#gotta edit the previous ones | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

bunnisari · 1 year ago

Text

❥MONDAY — c. springer

seven days a week.

PAIRINGS ✩ — plug!connie x fem!black!reader

WARNINGS ✩ — both are under influence, spitting, usage of 🍃, hair pulling if you squint, fuck idk i suck at warnings just smut at the end leave me alone i can’t deal rn + i’ll come back to edit

CONNIE has been unfocused more than usual. He has high energy usually and is bouncing from task to task but today, he can’t seem to grasp reality.

“Bro is you good?” Onyankopon says in between a laugh. He had been calling Connie’s name for about a minute. Connie looked up from the counter, multiple packs of weed sitting on the counter. Ony was looking back from his spot on the cream colored couch, his dark green tracksuit making him stand out.

“…Yeah” Connie nodded his head at him, continuing to place weed on a scale. “Yeah ight…i’ve been calling your name” Ony walks around to the kitchen island. “Well I didn’t hear you” Connie snaps back at him.

Ony smacks his teeth, bucking at Connie. “Yo sassy ass be around Sasha too much”. Connie shook his head. “You remember that one drop we did at Marco’s yesterday….” Connie suddenly brings up.

Ony looks up, thinking back to the previous day. The party was big, he gave a couple college girls a 3.5 then left by himself. “Yeah…why?” Ony asked in confusion, now wondering if something happened to make him bring it up. Ony and Connie were like brothers, they had committed to this game together. They protected each other all the time.

“Do you remember seeing Sasha with a girl wearing pink beside her?” Connie specifies, thinking back to his first time spotting you.

“Yeah you talking about Y/N?” Connie nods his head, Y/N

“What about her?”

“Nothing, jus asking” Connie lies to Ony. There was something. Connie’s mind had been suffocated by the thought of you. He remembers how you smiled at everyone Sasha introduced you to. He also remembered how you looked up into his eyes, yours red and low.

He told you his name and you told him his– atleast he thought you did. The music was playing so loud he didn’t hear you. But that was the last thing he was worried about, he was focused on the way you were staring him down.

Since he woke up this morning he’s been thinking about the mystery girl who sucked the soul out of him. The mystery girl who’s pussy was the wettest and warmest he’s ever been in.

He cried everytime he came that night, that’s never happened before. He hoped you didn’t notice, not wanting to creep you out. He also wondered if you enjoyed it as much as he did, and if you were thinking about this particular hookup all day as well.

He’s never felt anything like you before. You had to be a crystal bitch or somethingggg like pussy putting spells onna nigga🫃🫃

He just hopes he can meet you again, for a proper introduction.

❥

You sip on your Starbucks Frappuccino, two small Tiffany and Co. bags in your other hand. You were walking down a shopping outlet, deciding to spend your free time shopping. For the past couple of days, you’ve been straight partying. The most recent one was a bit memorable though. You were pretty cross faded and had some of the best sex in your life. You couldn’t exactly remember who it was with though. He was wearing light blue and white, you can accurately remember. Tattoos all over and he smelled amazing. But his name?…..can’t exactly remember that one. You just brushed it off though, maybe he’ll come around again but you weren’t worried.

Your phone started to vibrate in your back pocket. You grabbed it before reading the contact name, ‘Sash🫶🏾🤍’

You pressed the green icon, Sasha’s face appearing on the screen. “You gotta come to this kickback” She says before you can speak.

“Girlll, i’ve been out for days. I think I still have a hangover” You whined, looking up at the Coach sign before walking in. “Well it’s not like an actual kickback. Jean is just throwing a get together,” You sighed, looking down at Sasha as she was munching on some chips. “Pleaseeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!! It’s gonna be like fifty people max” She pleaded, bringing her face super close to the camera.

“Okay fineee,” You groan, sipping the last of your Frappuccino. “What’s the dress code?”

“Mmmm… sexy casual” Sasha nodded her head. “Kk, I’m gonna finish up shopping babe. Send me the addy” You said your goodbyes before hanging up.

❥

Connie laid back on Jean’s couch manspreading. He had a blunt in one hand, the other resting on the couch. He had no tasks for the rest of the day and decided on stopping by Jean’s, a mutual friend.

His eyes were already red and low, he could start to feel his munchies kick in. He smoked the last of the roach before putting it out. There’s a good amount of people here. Maybe about 30 or 40.

Some people smoking hookah in the corner, some outside just chatting. The vibe was calmer than what the house parties he usually attends are.

“Ay Con!” Connie looks back from his spot on the couch. “Come take a shot!” Eren called him over,holding up a shot glass. Connie wasn’t much of a drinker but did every once in a while. It simply wasn’t for him. Standing up and walking over to the island, he hears a familiar voice speaking from the door.

“Wowwww shots without us?!” Sasha walks over from the door, you trailing behind her. Connie can feel his heartbeat pick up. It’s you. Your now standing infront of him, looking 10x more stunning.

“Y’all remember Y/N” Sasha gestured to you while snatching the bottle from Eren.

“Hey” You flashed a smile that made Connie jr harden just a bit. Your eyes wandered around the room. Not too many people, but enough for you to have to raise your voice a little if you’re trying to have a conversation.

Your eyes stopped on a pair that were only staring right back at you. You could feel your breath hitch. Holy shit no way

❥

The night has been filled with pure tension. Sexual tension at that. You’ve come to find out that ,mystery boy with a huge dick, name is actually Connie. The entire night he’s had his eyes on you, both of you keeping eye contact. A part of you kept wanting to look back from your spot on the couch. You’d only immediately find his eyes. It was as if you were silently conversing. You both wanted more of eachother, but how do you approach your “one” night stand asking for just another round.

“Imma go get a refill” You say to Jean, passing him the hookah. He nodded before continuing to converse with Sasha.

You walked into the kitchen, holding your red cup in one hand. Much to your surprise, Connie was the only one in the kitchen. He was sitting on the counter, his head down and all his attention focused on the blunt he was currently rolling.

You walk over to where all the bottles were, Connie’s head immediately lifting as he gets a whiff of sweet perfume. You smile to yourself when you feel his stare on you. You pour a little hennessy in your cup before turning around.

Connie’s looking at you with his eyes low and redder than before. You keep eye contact with him as you sip from your cup. Your gloss staining your cup.

Connie watches you closely, focusing on every single detail about you. He’s wondering what makes you so different from any other girl he’s been with.

“Why aren’t you with everyone else?” You decide to speak first, breaking the ice. Connie can feel his dick twitch at the sound of your voice, a slight rasp from the burning of the alcohol.

Your thighs clench together as you watch Connie lick his lips. “Shit…..guess I was waiting for you to come to me.” His voice coming out low and deep.

The tension in the kitchen is so high right now, even Ony who’s sitting on the couch can feel it.

A lazy smile breaks out on your face, Connie’s too as he licks the blunt. His eyes never look away from yours, dragging his tongue across the wood. You can even see his tongue piercing that was deep in your pus-

“Mhmm, well i’m here now so…” You trail off, walking a bit closer to him. You can smell his cologne from where you stand. Your intoxication was making this no better for you, as well as the PartyNextDoor that’s playing in the background.

You watch as Connie lights his blunt. He brings it to his lips before puffing twice, just to make sure it’s lit. He sucks in a breath before blowing the smoke out. He reaches his hands out, holding out the blunt to you.

You hesitate before moving closer, taking it from him. You reach for a napkin to wipe your lipgloss off but Connie only grabs your wrist. “You don’t have too, i’m okay with it”

“Oh…okay” You bring the blunt up to your lips, the smoke immediately making you cough. “God damn, strong ass…” You can’t finish your sentence through a fit of coughs. Connie lightly laughs as he reaches to grab an unopened water bottle on the counter.

You could already feel like you were baked off of just one hit, your eyes looking a little sleepy. “I’m already high what the fuck…” You blinked up at Connie.

“I guess i’m just used to it” He hits it again. “You’re literally smoking the devils lettuce. That shit came straight from hell” You take a gulp of water.

Connie could tell you were a lot less tense. For some reason you trusted him like a lot… even though you’ve never had a full conversation with him.

“I enjoyed last night a lot” You lean against the counter, head tilting. You know that you’re being bold all of a sudden but fuck, this man was too fine.

Behind his faux chill demeanor, Connie was freaking out. He wanted to feel you again. He never wanted you to stop talking and he could look at you for hours.

“Yeah, me too” He’s fighting his anxiety, trying not to seem to excited to be talking to you. He was praying, even crossing his toes that he would be able to get another look at your naked body.

You bit on your lower lip, contemplating on whether or not you should keep making the moves.

“I’m gonna…go to the bathroom” You trail off, not giving Connie another word before walking off with your cup.

Connie almost jumps off the counter, fighting the urge to throw his rolling tray to the side and follow you right to the bathroom. He wanted you to keep talking to him. Connie watched you walk up the stairs, he couldn’t miss this opportunity.

❥

“Fuck, talk to me mama” Connie breathes into your ear, your hair roughly tangled around his fist. You can feel him in your stomach, punching your cervix over and over.

“Ah-mmph..I can’t” Your hands hold onto the sink, grasping it harder than you can grasp reality.

Connie feels a bit bad that he wishes he didn’t have on a condom right now, wanting to feel you raw.

“Yes you can, you are now —fuck— aren’t ya?” Connie taunts you, his hand reaching down to rub your clit. “I don’t want p-people to hear” Your head rests on Connie’s shoulder.

“Why not? Don’t want anyone to know how much of a slut you are?” Your eyebrows furrow, you were pretty sure you saw tears falling down Connie’s eyes the first time you hooked up. You clenched around him purposely, earning a whine from him.

“Oh i’m a slut?” You lifted your head back up to look at him in the mirror. You used Connie’s vulnerable state to push him off of you, giving him no time to be confused before you drop to your knees.

“What the– fuck” Connie groans out. You watch as this grown man literally slaps his hand over his mouth. Your tongue runs up his cock, licking up all your wetness. You rise up, peeling Connie’s hand off of his mouth. He watched you intently. You squished his cheeks together before spitting your wetness in his mouth.

A part of you feels really really slutty. No man has really made you feel like this. Yeah sure you wanted him but you wanted him to chase after you, not the other way around.

You watch Connie swallow with no hesitation. “You’re cool and all Connie, but I don’t even know you. It’ll take a little more than a blunt.” You watch Connie’s mouth open agape.

He was very very confused. He thought you wanted him just as bad as he wanted you. You let him eat you out before letting him put his dick inside you. Then you suddenly stop him? What the fuck-

“Just letting you know, i’m a bit expensive” You fix your clothes and hair in the mirror.

“Bye Connie” You sweetly say, before exiting the bathroom, leaving Connie with a rock hard erection.

“Fuck i’m too high for this” Connie face palms himself. No way he just let a girl edge him.

@getoscrybaby @ginger4sugar @cybercandy1 @rintcrous @conniesministallion @junevenile @yourrfavzxri @reinerszn @lowkeysumgyall @nerdiel-has-no-braincells @royalty-cashinout @lovelytayy @starpdfs @syarblu @urmotherswhor3 @simp4tenko @emery-333 @hopefuloperaangelnerd @pinkfqiry @donutsrsweetbagels @katymae12344@urivl @mdibby @dezibou @dramaticOflwer @animeloverzx @y3rn4y0n yOn @honeyxluv @jupittterrrrr @iikatsukii @glossygirrll @severenswife @h3v3n1y + many more beautiful people <3

Please message me to be removed or added to my taglist🫶🏾

3K notes · View notes

nicksbestie · 6 months ago

Text

Nightmares - M. Sturniolo

Summary : the one where your boyfriend struggles with sleeping, but one night you find out why.

Warnings : nightmares, anxiety, panic attacks. read at your own discretion.

Word Count : 1364

Pairing : Matt Sturniolo/Reader (romantic)

A/N : gotta love a little angsty fic every now and again! <3

Matt didn’t sleep much.

Well, he slept, but it wasn’t at the time that he should be sleeping, and it never seemed like he slept well. He always seemed to be tired, dragging, and there were permanent dark circles and bags under his eyes. He always insisted that he was fine, but he was never able to hide the truth from you, as you saw the consistent yawns when he thought you weren’t looking. You had also seen the clips that Nick had no other choice than to edit out of car videos where Matt had nodded off in the front seat. You both knew if those had gone onto the Internet, their fan base would have gone inside, and none of them wanted to deal with clearing up the rumors that would start flying, or seeing all the edits of a sleepy Matt to soft or sad audios, complete with a load of pity.

Matt hated being pitied. It was one of his least favorite things in the world. He wasn’t someone who genuinely believed that he was too tough to have feelings, or that he never needed help, but he hated when people felt bad for him just because they felt like they had to. Matt was strong, mentally. Growing up as a kid with a lot of anxiety had shaped him that way, but he wasn’t someone who thought that they were impenetrable. Unfortunately, this didn’t mean that he easily asked for help. He did try to hide it for as long as he could, because normally a side of pity came along with the help that he needed to receive. So, whenever you pointed out that he was yawning, or that he had slept incredibly late into the afternoon, he brushed it off by saying that they were out late filming the night before.

He used this excuse even when Nick confirmed that they had been home the previous night, the video for that day having been pre-filmed last week. You never called him out on the lies, wanting him to trust you, and come to you with whatever was wrong when he was ready. Your relationship was new, and you didn’t want him to feel pressured by you or uncomfortable with you in any way. You were always there for him whenever he needed anything, and he knew that better than anyone, so you firmly believed that when he was ready, he would come to you. You were taking baby steps in your relationship, both of you learning about the other person every day, having a few wobbles but always getting back up, the strong attraction between the two of you being enough to make you keep working towards a happy, stable, and long term thing.

You couldn’t deny that you were in the honeymoon phase right now, and while you were enjoying the happiness of being with someone who cared for you so deeply already, you were worried about him. The bags under his eyes were only getting worse, he was only sleeping later and later into the afternoon, and oftentimes, he was still awake and texted you back immediately when you texted him your usual good morning text. You were beginning to grow extremely concerned, feeling like this was more than just his bad YouTube filming schedule causing the lack of sleep. You talked to Nick and Chris first, making sure that you weren’t going crazy and imagining it all, and they confirmed your concerns, telling you that Matt had refused all of their help as well. They were worried, but at this point, there wasn’t much more that they could do without him opening up to someone.

Nothing happened until your first night staying over with Matt. You hadn’t spent the night with him yet, your schedules were not lining up, and you had declined one night because you were so nervous about it. You didn’t want any expectations to be there, because you weren’t ready for some things that could be implied from the first night together, but you felt like you were comfortable around Matt, and your nerves eased. It wasn’t planned, you had just been curled up with him after coming over for dinner, and when you had yawned against his shoulder, Matt had simply suggested that you stay there for the night. When you brought up the fact that you didn’t have clothes, he offered his own, and since you were tired and didn’t want to drive back home, you agreed.

It hadn’t taken you long to curl up against Matt, his warm presence, comforting touches, combined with being wrapped up in silky soft sheets, and being in your boyfriend’s clothes, ones that smelled like his cologne and laundry detergent, caused you to fall asleep in his arms within only a couple of hours. As usual, Matt was still awake when you fell asleep, since he normally didn’t rest for many more hours, often waiting until the sun was rising and peeking through his window blinds. But this time, Matt fell asleep a lot earlier than he intended to. He felt comfortable next to you, being in your presence calmed him down, and it was only another hour or two before he fell asleep. He caught the time before he fell asleep, just past midnight, and that was the last thing he processed as his eyes slipped shut. Unfortunately, they didn’t stay closed for long.

You woke up, eyes slowly blinking open as you tried to process the scene in front of you. You heard muffled cries next to you, and panic immediately coursed through your veins. Your eyes raked over Matt’s body, facing away from you, his shoulders shaking. You gently laid a hand on his shoulder, and he jolted away from your touch, his head turning and eyes snapping to see you. When you made eye contact with him, you noticed that his eyes were bloodshot, and they were full of fear. His forehead was coated in sweat, and you had no idea what was going on. You pulled him into a hug, noticing the way he clung to you, before speaking.

“Baby, what’s wrong?”

He just shook his head against you, the slow rolling of tears beginning to stop as he was wrapped up in your presence.

“Nightmare.”

You frowned, kissing the top of his head as you kept him close to your body.

“I’m so sorry, baby. It’ll be okay, it was just a dream. Everything is okay now, I’ve got you.”

Matt furiously shook his head, denying your statement.

“It isn’t okay. I can’t go back to sleep. It’ll happen again.”

Laying there in the dark, holding your boyfriend in your arms, you connected the dots. His poor sleep schedule, how he always seemed tired, how he never slept without being able to see a peek of the sun. This was a recurring issue.

“This happens every night, doesn’t it?”

You could feel the nod against your chest, and your heart broke for him.

“Oh, love. It’s going to be okay, alright? I’m not leaving, I’ll stay up with you, or I’ll hold you so you can sleep. If it helps, I’ll stay over more often.”

He didn’t verbally respond, nor did you feel him move against you, but you knew he had heard you. You laid there, comforting him, rubbing his back, hoping to help lull him back to sleep, and after about another twenty minutes, you heard him yawn. You gently coaxed him to close his eyes, staying up for another hour after he dozed off again, and held him tightly. You fell asleep after about an hour and a half, feeling confident enough that he wouldn’t wake back up, or at least you hoped he wouldn’t.

You woke up about five hours later, around eight in the morning, to the sun creeping through Matt’s open window blinds. You noticed that Matt was still sleeping peacefully, so you slipped out of bed and closed the blinds, before getting back into bed with him. You were going to let him rest as long as possible, and you’d do anything to help keep his nightmares at bay.

taglist : @blahbel668 @mattsgirlfrieeend @69isabella69 @mayhem-72 @iculdstealurgf @iluvm4ttsturni0l0

@sturnioloslife @heartsforkarina @nervousrebelglitter @sturniclo @elliegrace-7 @mattsturnioloisbae @strnilo

@dazsha19 @patscorner @hailee22sstuff @tworosesblackthorn @h3arts4harry @getosuckers @knhxa @scoobydoosnack

@tapesmatts @st7rnioioss @st7rnioiossblog @jamiesturniolo @sofie-1 @muwapsturniolo @graysturns @certifiednatelover

@bitchydragonparadise @haunted-headset-alt @skyslondon @matthewsturniolosgirlfriend101 @alivzstuff

@satvisfavetoodles @zivall @elliesturniolo1 @elliewrites1

~ if you'd like to be added to my taglist, click here!

~ my inbox is open, come chat!!

520 notes · View notes

girlgenius1111 · 11 months ago

Text

key to recovery

edit: young reader and platonic barca femeni + platonic leah

r wakes up from surgery, goes home, and is sad. she misses Leah but knows she can't come. her friends try to fix it.

The light of the room filtered through your eyelashes as you blinked your eyes open, just slightly. Everything around you was blurry, and you could just make out a few shapes sitting around you before your eyes drifted shut again. Your head felt heavy, and you weren't quite sure if you could move any part of your body. You tried anyway, shifting slightly, feeling a dull pang of pain in your arm. You got the feeling that the movement should have hurt a lot more, but the way your head was swirling, you were on some serious drugs.

Groaning slightly, incredibly confused, you worked harder to open your eyes, feeling someone release their grip on your hand. You brought what you assumed to be your good arm to rub at your eyes, but your movements were all thrown off and you ended up just wacking yourself in the face.

"Easy there, buddy," a voice came from farther away in the room, as someone else grabbed your hand, pulling it away from your face. You groaned again, and a few chuckles echoed their way through the room.

"Y/n, can you open your eyes for me?" a different voice asked, much closer than the previous voice. You opened them again, and this time they focused on the form sitting next to you. Alexia smiled when you looked at her, and she brought a cup of water up to your mouth, letting you sip from the straw.

The water did a lot to revive you, and the length of your blinks was growing shorter. Alexia took the cup and you looked around the room, seeing people scattered across many different chairs. Lucy was leaning up against the wall, next to a chair that Keira was asleep in. Mapi was asleep in a chair on the other side of the room, leaning heavily against Ingrid, who was smiling at you. All of them were still in their kits, and you were still pretty confused.

Your voice was gravelly when you tried to speak, and you cleared your throat, trying again.

"Why am I in the hospital?" you rasped, looking to Alexia.

"You don't remember?" she asked frowning slightly, and you shook your head. "You got pushed to the ground pretty hard during the game and dislocated your elbow. They had to put it back in place surgically."

You looked down at your arm, then, taking in the heavily wrapped limb. You could just barely see your fingers, and they looked swollen. It was resting on a pillow next to you, and you tried to pick it up, before crying out as a jolt of pain shot through your arm.

"No, no, don't move it, you've gotta keep it still," Lucy said, moving closer to you. She stood at the edge of the bed, crossing her arms, and she inexplicably reminded you of a dad at that moment, frowning at your arm. You nodded slowly, feeling like everything they were telling you was taking much longer than normal to process.

The sound you'd made had woken up Keira and Mapi. Now everyone was staring at you, as if waiting for you to speak. About what, you weren't sure.

A nurse entered then, asking you questions about your pain level, before asking you if you were hungry. Thinking for a few second, you nodded your head enthusiastically. She handed you a bag of animal crackers, before leaving the room. You stared at it for at least a full 60 seconds, before you began to tear up.

"What is it?" Alexia asked, leaning forward, concerned.

"I can't open it and now I don't get animal crackers," you murmured, valiantly fighting to hold back from crying. You really wanted them but you only had one arm.

Alexia laughed, and you looked up at her with wide eyes, confused. She took the bag out of your hands, and opened it before handing you the bag. A smile appeared on your face, and you began to eat the animal crackers. Everyone was still staring at you, and it was beginning to annoy you.

"Why is everyone looking at me," you grumbled, and everyone averted their eyes, almost comically.

"We were just worried about you, pequeña," Mapi said, staring out the window, but looking at you out of the corner of her eye.

For a minute, you were confused. Why were they worried about you? You couldn't remember. Then, glancing down, you did.

"Because my elbow fell off," you said knowingly, and this time the whole room erupted into laughter. They all looked back at you, only laughing harder at the perplexed expression on your face. You didn't think it was very funny that your elbow had fallen off.

"No, buddy, you dislocated your elbow, but I promise it's still attached," Lucy told you, trying to keep a straight face. She pointed at your arm, and you looked down.

"Oh. Right," you said. They must have reattached your elbow to your body. "Can I go home soon?" you asked, looking around. The girls all exchanged looks, before Lucy cleared her throat.

"You can leave the hospital pretty soon, but you can't go home by yourself. You're gonna stay with Mapi and Ingrid," she said hesitantly, not really sure how this information was going to go over.

They'd had a long debate about who you should stay with. Both Lucy and Keira were adamant that you come home with one of them, but neither of them had an extra bedroom. Alexia campaigned for custody of you too, but eventually she was overruled, as it made more sense for you to go with the couple. They had an extra bedroom, and there were 2 of them.

"That's cool," you replied, eyes suddenly starting to slide shut again. "Can I go back to sleep?"

"Si, nena, we'll wake you when it's time to go," Alexia stated.

-----

They tried to wake you. It didn't really work. Instead, they changed your half asleep form into the sweats that Ingrid had brought from your apartment, and all but carried you from the bed to the wheelchair. Mapi wheeled you to the car, until her privileges were revoked after pushing and letting go in the parking lot briefly. Alexia slapped her on the arm, and Ingrid took over pushing.

You don't really remember the car ride, or arriving at Mapi and Ingrid's. They gave you more painkillers before you left the hospital, and you were practically comatose as Ingrid gave up trying to get you to walk, carefully picking you up and carrying you into their house.

When you woke up again, you didn't feel like you were orbiting the earth anymore. Instead, your arm ached, you weren't at home, there was a black cat laying practically on your head, and you had realized you were going to be out of playing for a while. You looked around the room, not seeing your phone near you, wondering what time it was. The sun was filtering in through the window, lighting up the room with a warm glow. The bed you were in was incredibly comfortable, and you dreaded having to get up and out from under the cozy duvet.

You wanted coffee though. Unsteadily, you rose from the bed, already annoyed with the sling holding your arm close to your chest. You shuffled out into the hall and into the living room.

"Pequeña! You're awake!" Mapi called, standing up from her spot on the couch. You only frowned at her, looking around for Ingrid to make you coffee. "How are you feeling?" she asked, thinking you were grumpy because you were in pain.

"Like someone cut into my arm with a knife," you retorted, before sitting down on the couch and glaring at the coffee table. Mapi took in the look on your face for a minute, before deciding that she was not the best equipped person for grumpy y/n.

"INGRID!" she called, ignoring the look you gave her at her loud voice.

"Yes, mi amor?" Ingrid responded, walking into the room. Her face brightened at the sight of you. "Y/n! How are you feeling?"

"Can you make me coffee please?" you asked in a monotone. Ingrid and Mapi exchanged looks, and Mapi mouthed someone's grumpy at Ingrid, who made a face and nodded.

"I'm not grumpy." You grumbled. Ingrid rolled her eyes, walking into the kitchen to get you the aforementioned coffee. Mapi took a cautious seat on the couch next to you, and handed you your phone. You made no move to open it.

"Do you want to call Leah?" she suggested. An unreadable expression flashed across your face.

"No, I'll call her later," you said, and Mapi could have sworn your voice wavered slightly. Ingrid returned with your coffee, and sat down in one of the arm chairs across the room. Both girls were looking at you intently.

"When can I go home?" you asked, because your worst nightmare may have been being forced to impose upon your friends, stay at their house, and make them take care of you.

"Not for a while, nena. A couple weeks, until your stitches are out and you're out of the sling." Mapi replied. "Do you not want to stay here?

Your frosty exterior cracked slightly at that, never wanting your friends to feel like the problem was them.

"No, I just hate bothering you guys. I'd be fine on my own," you started, but Ingrid interrupted you.

"You're not bothering us, we want you here, and we want to make sure you're okay," she insisted, looking at you softly. You didn't reply.

Instead, you picked up your phone, and began scrolling through the many, many, messages you'd received from friends and teammates. Your heart panged when you saw several texts from Leah. You replied quickly, not giving her much information. The longer you thought about Leah, her cozy home in London, the room she still kept there for you, the closer you got to tears.

"Pequeña? Are you okay?" Mapi asked softly, and you turned your head to see her and Ingrid both looking at you.

"Yeah, I'm good. I think I'm gonna go take a nap though," you replied, even though you'd just gotten up. They didn't really know what to say as you rose and headed back to the guest bedroom.

You crawled under the covers, and into a little ball, as best you could with one arm in a sling, and let yourself cry into the pillow. You missed Leah. It had been a while since you'd been homesick, having settled well in Spain, and you talked to Leah so often, you didn't ever really have a chance to miss her. Now, though, you were in pain, you were sad about your stupid injury, and you just wanted Leah.

She'd been with you through it all, everything with your parents. She'd seen you at your worst, and maybe that's why you needed her so badly right now; because letting anyone else in would be too hard. You couldn't ask her to come though, not now, not while she was on the cusp of her return. You cried until you wore yourself out, eventually falling back asleep.

-----

In the living room, Mapi and Ingrid discussed your odd behavior. They'd frankly never seen you this grumpy before, and whatever you had been looking at on your phone had almost brought you to tears right in front of them. They weren't really sure what to do, as you didn't seem like you'd open up to them.

They were just deciding to call Lucy and Keira, and see if they would come try to talk to you, when they heard a cry of pain from the bedroom. They were off the couch and running down the hall in seconds, throwing the door open to find you on the bed, breathing deeply through tears, your one good fist balled tightly.

"What happened?" Mapi questioned, both girls moving closer to hover next to you.

"I rolled over in my sleep," you said through clenched teeth, waiting for the wave of pain to pass.

"I'll get you some ice, and some medicine. You're due for more anyway." Mapi said, heading out of the room. Ingrid took a seat next to you, on your good side, and wrapped her arm around your shoulder, pulling you into her. You let her, leaning in to her warmth as she rubbed your back softly. You took deep breaths, willing the pain away, resting your head on her shoulder.

"How does it feel now?" she asked, after a few minutes had passed.

"Better. I don't think I messed anything up in there." You pulled away from her suddenly, wiping at your eyes. You wanted Leah. You loved Ingrid, you really did, but you just wanted Leah.

Ingrid let her arm fall from around your shoulders, looking at you sympathetically. It was clear that something was really bothering you, more than the pain in your arm.

By the time Mapi returned, with ice, medicine, and a sandwich, you'd reverted back to the grouchy version of yourself, all evidence of tears wiped from your face. They didn't take it personally, the way you barely answered their questions, really only opening your mouth to thank them every time they did something for you, no matter how small it was. They knew it wasn't about them.

-----

Everyone was surprised when Keira and Lucy failed to get you to talk; in fact, it seemed like they'd only made you more upset. They came over later that day, and you wouldn't look at either of them. They tried for a while, getting very little in response. Lucy got fed up pretty fast.

"Kid, I don't understand. Are you upset about your arm? Does it hurt? Why are you acting like this?" she questioned, staring at you hard. She thought that perhaps being firm with you would work. She knew she'd picked the wrong path when you finally looked up, just to glare at her.

"Obviously my arm fucking hurts Lucy. I'm not upset about anything, and I'm not acting like anything. I don't understand why everyone can't just leave me alone," you spoke sharply. Lucy was rather shocked at being spoken to like that.

"Y/n, something is clearly going on. You've been in a bad mood all day. Just tell us what's up." Keira pushed, trying a softer approach.

"Nothing is up. I just want to be alone."

Neither Keira, nor Lucy were Leah. You just wanted Leah. Eventually, you knew, that feeling would pass, and being around other people would be easier. Until then, everyone just needed to leave you alone.

"Leah said you haven't called her yet..." Lucy started, only to be cut off by you.

"Please, for the love of god, just leave me alone Lucy." You interrupted. It seems they'd struck a nerve by bringing up Leah, which neither of them missed. Exchanging looks, both girls got up, each giving you as much of a hug as they could, without crushing your arm, whilst you completely ignored their movements.

They left the room, bumping right into Ingrid and Mapi, who had been shamelessly eavesdropping. They walked back into the living room, and Mapi sighed.

"We're gonna have to call in Alexia," she said, knowing that if anyone could get you to talk, it was your captain. The other girls agreed, and Lucy and Keira left, defeated, as Mapi called the blonde woman.

-----

You were in the living room when Alexia arrived, having been convinced by your hosts to come watch a movie with them. When she entered the house, they gave a random, flimsy excuse about going to get ice cream, before leaving you alone with Alexia. You stared at the TV, stony faced, even after she'd flicked it off, and taken a seat next to you on the couch.

"Nenaaaa," she said, poking your cheek. You shifted your gaze to scowl at her.

"Oye, don't look at me like that," she said sternly, and you dropped your gaze, but the frown didn't leave your lips.

"Are you going to tell me whats wrong, or am I gonna have to force it out of you?" She asked.

"Nothing is wrong, Alexia."

"Well I know that's not true. You've been snapping at everyone, you look like you want to cry constantly, and you've barely spoken. And you've refused to call Leah. So I know something's wrong, and I'm going to sit here until you tell me what it is." She said firmly, settling down into the couch for added effect.

"Fuck off Alexia," you mumbled, immediately regretting it. Alexia was staring at you, jaw dropped. You'd never spoken to her like that. She'd never heard you speak to ANYONE like that.

"Y/n, we've been patient, but we're just trying to help you, and there's no reason for you to be rude," she scolded, her tone very angry. You felt so guilty for being so rude, and you were so frustrated with yourself for being so pathetic. They were just trying to help, and because you missed Leah, you were acting like a brat. Tears, of frustration or sadness you weren't sure, began pooling in your eyes.

"I'm sorry," you murmured, your voice cracking. Alexia watched you carefully, scooting closer when you began to cry, and rubbing her hand up on down your good arm.

"Nena, please talk to me," she pleaded, "maybe I can help."

"You can't help."

"Why not?"

"You just can't," you replied bitterly. "No one can help, there's nothing anyone can do, she can't come here, she has to focus on her recovery." You were too caught up in your emotions to realize you'd given it away.

"Is this about Leah, cariño?" Alexia asked carefully. You nodded, finally letting out a loud sob. Alexia moved forward, and you buried your face in her chest, sobs wracking your whole body. "Oh, nena, why didn't you say something? You don't need to be embarrassed about missing her, she's important to you, and she's always taken care of you," Alexia soothed.

You didn't respond, continuing to cry into Alexia's sweatshirt, and she held you tightly, but gently, careful not to jostle your elbow. "It's okay, y/n, it's okay to miss her, and want her when you're hurting," she reassured you, but you weren't showing any signs of calming down, and she knew she needed to do something before you started panicking.

She grabbed your phone off the couch, without you noticing, and called Leah, holding the phone up to her ear.

"Y/n? Why've you been ignoring me!" Leah complained as she answered. Your tears slowed at the sound of her voice, and you leaned back, shakily holding your hand out. Alexia handed you the phone, and you brought it to your ear.

"Lee?" you asked, voice sounding broken.

"Hey buddy, what's going on?" Leah asked, voice much gentler than it was before.

"I really miss you," you said, your voice almost a whisper.

"Oh, y/n, I miss you too. Are you having a hard night?" she asked.

'I guess. Since I got hurt, I just want to see you. It's stupid," you replied.

"No, it's not stupid. I want to be there more than anything, I really do. Is this why you've been ignoring my calls?" She asked, heart hurting for you.

"I didn't want to make you feel bad for not being able to come."

"Y/n, you should never worry about that. I want you to talk to me when you're sad, when you miss me, even when I can't come to you."

"Okay, I'll try."

"Good. Now tell me about your day. Is everyone taking good care of you?" She asked.

You settled back against Alexia, nuzzling close, trying to express your thanks to her. She simply wrapped you back up in her arms, and texted your friends, telling them you were doing better. She expected the call to take a while, but she didn't mind staying with you through it, as it was clearly what you needed. She did wonder, however, if she could manage to get you to England during your recovery; seeing Leah would definitely speed the process along.

-----

do we want a part 4? or perhaps a prequel?

#woso #woso imagine #woso x reader #barcelona femeni x reader #mapi leon #ingrid engen #barca femeni #barcelona femeni #alexia putellas #keira walsh #lucy bronze #leah williamson

767 notes · View notes

imwetforyourmom · 9 months ago

Text

gotta save every last drop.

summary: y/n and chris had just gotten done with dinner and now were putting away the leftovers, simple words were exchanged, but chris apparently, thought they were quite dirty.

warnings: smut, praise, kissing, swearing, unprotected sex (dont do that shit), dom!chris, fuck bro idk

alrighty, lets get this show on the road! (edit: this issss hellaaaa old, stg im a better ((hopefully)) writer now)

y/ns tongue poked out from between her lips in focus as she poured soup into a container, very carefully and slowly.

chris put away a container in the fridge and shut it, then looked at her. he glanced down her body. checking her out before walking next to her and wrapping his arms around her waist from behind.

y/n relaxed into her boyfriends touch, lightly leaning her back into his chest. but keeping her attention on not spilling any of the soup.

he placed a kiss on her temple before whispering into her hair “what’re you doing?”

she furrowed her eyebrows in focus and muttered back a small “putting the food away, gotta save every last drop.”

chris’ cheeks turned a light pink, he chuckled and smirked into her hair. “alright.” he kissed her temple one last time before removing his arms from her waist and walking to his room. leaving y/n in her focus and unaware of how apparently dirty her previous sentence to chris was.

time skip.

y/n opened chris’ bedroom door and was immediately greeted with a very needy chris.

he pushed her into the door, as he pressed his body into hers and his lips onto hers. his hands roamed her body, starting at her neck, then traveling down her shoulders, sides and landing at her hips.

no one needed to know, and no one did know, but y/n always, always got wet from either experiencing or even thinking about chris acting like this with her.

y/ns eyes widened and a small gasp left her mouth, giving chris the opportunity to stick his tongue into her mouth.

their tongues almost immediately fought for dominance, which— chris, obviously, won.

chris pulled away, just far enough to break the kiss but close enough for their lips to graze one another. “are you okay? with- with this?” he asked, they’ve had sex multiple times in the past, its just always better to ask instead of going for it.

chris always asks for consent, and thats one thing y/n absolutely adores about him. she loves how he doesn’t just go for it without asking, he asks and thats one thing shes so very grateful for.

“yes, im okay.” she breathed, lust overtaking her “are you okay?” she exhaled. chris nodded his head and connected their lips again, immediately returning back to the steamy makeout they had earlier.

chris’ hands grabbed onto the hem of y/ns shirt and lightly tugged, silently saying he wants it off.

y/n obliged and broke the kiss before throwing her shirt off and across the room. chris immediately dove for her breasts, touching everywhere he possibly could without her bra getting in the way, consisting of the top of her breasts and only the top.

he huffed at the restriction and moved his hands so they were no longer touching her breasts, but instead at her back and fiddling with the clip.

after a few moments and few failures of getting the bra undone, he finally unclipped it and took it off y/ns body. finally, finally giving him the view he wanted.

y/n hissed at the cold air hitting her bare breasts, her nipples hardening and begging to be touched of some sort.

chris looked at her eyes for a moment, and y/n looked into his aswell. lust filling both of their eyes. chris then looked down at her chest and muttered “you’re so beautiful..”

y/n immediately felt her cheeks heat up and butterflies erupt in her stomach.

chris wasted no time and immediately attached his mouth to her left nipple, lightly tugging it while his hand found her right nipple and pinched, squeezed and massaged.

y/ns mouth dropped and moans exited her lips from the pleasure she was receiving. chris smirked at this and switched from sucking on her left nipple, to now sucking and tugging at her right nipple, while his hand repeated the same actions to her left nipple.

chris pulled away from her breasts and connected his lips with hers again.

the kissing intensified into sloppy, wet and opened mouth until chris parted their lips and mumbled “jump.” y/n followed his words and jumped, wrapping her legs around chris’ waist.

chris walked to his bed and threw y/n down so now she was laying on her back. chris acted quick and pulled down her shorts, then pulled his shirt over his head before grabbing onto the waistband of his pants, then pulling them down.

y/n couldnt help but admire at how much of a rush her boyfriend was in to be inside of her, even though they both knew they had all the time in the world.

her eyes glanced down from his blue eyes, to his broad shoulders, his muscular biceps, veiny arms and onto his chest. she didnt stop there, but looked down at his stomach, her eyes trailing his happy trail, v-line and lastly his pelvis.

he left his boxers on before crawling overtop y/n, he immediately attached their lips once he was face level with her and dug his hips into her.

their clothed crotches grinding into one another, and moans filling the air, before y/n sucked in a breath and muttered “chris- please”

chris smirked then pulled away from y/n and ran his hands down her body, then he grabbed onto his boxers and pulled them down.

there he stood, in all his glory infront of his girlfriend, who stared at him, in both awe and lust.

chris looked at her blushing cheeks, before placing one of his hands on the bed, near her head. his other hand traveled to the base of his cock and pumped himself a few times, before pulling y/ns panties to the side — not even bothering to take them off.

he ran his tip through y/ns folds, collecting all her arousal. both his pre cum and her arousal spreading down his cock, acting as a lube.

he took in the view for a moment, his beautiful girlfriend lying under him, all hot and bothered while waiting for him to give her her needs.

“chris-“ she whispered, he took this as his que and positioned his tip at y/ns core.

he slowly pushed in, looking at y/ns face for any signs of discomfort or pain.

y/n breathed heavily as pain and a burning sensation spiked throughout her body, her and chris had had sex a few days ago, but she always needed to adjust to his size.. cause fuck, was he big.

while pushing further in, chris groaned out “fuck- you’re tight.” y/n bit her lip and whimpered in respone.

chris bottomed out moments later and groaned at the feeling of his length being engulfed inside his girlfriends wet and warm pussy.

he waited inside her, giving her time to adjust to his cock inside her.

y/n screwed her eyes shut, before muttering out a small “move, please.” beginning to feel herself needing more.

chris pressed a gentle kiss to her cheek almost as if he was bracing her for his next action. he pulled almost all the way out, but slammed himself back into y/n.

she quite literally screamed at the sudden roughness. chris pounded into her ruthlessly his eyes trained on her face as her face contorts into pleasure. her eyebrows furrowed and her eyes rolled back.

y/ns mouth dropped but nothing came out from the overwhelmingly amounts of pleasure she was feeling.

“fuck! fuck! fuck!” she moaned out, she threw her head back as chris pushed into her once again, just as fast and hard as his other thrusts.

“taking me so well baby,” he cooed, one of his hands grabbed onto hers and held it, interlacing their fingers together.

the only noises in the room was skin slapping, moans, groans and heavy breathing.

chris’ other hand grabbed onto y/ns knees and pushed them into her chest. giving him a better angle at her and deeper inside her.

from the deeper angle y/n let out a cry and felt a knot form in her stomach, “mmhgg- chri- ‘m close” she cried out, her voice shaky and breaking.

“just wait for me baby, im- im close too- fuck.” he said breathlessly. a moan escapes his lips as he thrusted into her faster, needing to get closer to his high.

the hand that wasnt holding chris’ hand gripped onto the bedsheets, her knuckles turning white from how hard she was holding onto them.

“you’re- you’re doing so good for me sweetheart,” he moaned out, his thrusts became sloppier, signaling that he was close.

chris glanced down from y/ns face to her belly, watching as his dick thrusted in and out of her. his dick making an evident mark in her belly.

he watched in awe before his hand carefully added pressure onto her lower belly, causing y/n to cry out in pleasure and let out breathless moans and incoherent sentences.

y/n clenched around chris’ cock, sending him over the edge. he moaned loudly as he felt himself release his cum into her.

she felt the knot in her stomach snap and she too also came, moaning out swears and his name. chris slowed down his thrusts, but kept them steady in order to ride out both their highs.

chris slowed down to a stop and pulled out of her, he watched as his and her cum dripped out of her.

he smirked and stuck two of his fingers in her heat again, pushing the cum back into her, y/n moaned and attempted to move away from him, as she was sensitive.

“gotta save every last drop.” he said, before pulling his fingers out of her and lying down next to her, he then pulled her into his arms and cradled her, letting her relax into him and recover.

1669 words.

tags for my favorite ppl

@luverboychris @hysteria-things @gamermattsgf @lovingmattysposts @inlovewithmattstur

#sturniolo #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo smut #christopher owen sturniolo #chris sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo x reader #chris x reader #chris #smut #you need jesus #the sturniolo triplets #sturniolo triplets smut #sturniolo triplets

670 notes · View notes

jen-with-a-pen · 2 months ago

Text

(In Your) Arms Tonight - 2/2

summary: Wade tests out his previous hypothesis with great success. Might experiment more later.

pairing: Logan Howlett x Wade Wilson / Worst Wolverine x Deadpool

word count: 3.6k

warnings: MDNI 18+, Wade's POV-ish, blowjob, itty bitty blood mention, slight angst, nightmares/PTSD, pining, cursing, claws, crude humor and language, fluff, touching, *cue start of something new from high school musical*, Wade's a little shit, cum drinking bc i guess that's what happened, deepthroating, lowkey face fucking, bad flirting but it's kinda reciprocated, wade is the throat goat next question, wade kissed his roommate and they both liked it

a/n: here she is :') thanks yall for the patience and all of the magnificent love and comments for part one ❤❤❤ means the world to me, especially since it's my first time stepping out of stucky territory as a whole. also got a little away with the tags 😅 hope yall enjoy this !

Not beta'd. Half-written on my phone, edited and revised in ellipsus + gdocs. Please let me know if there are any spelling or grammar mistakes!

If I've missed any tags, PLEASE let me know!

gif by @tomshiddles | dividers by @saradika-graphics | warning banner by me ❤️

My AO3 | My Masterlist

Read this fic HERE on AO3

❤️ Reblogs and comments are appreciated, as always ❤️

PART ONE | PART TWO

Wade forgot to turn the AC back on.

It's his turn to sleep in bed tonight and he's got the worst case of swamp ass you can get this far from a fucking swamp. He's already thrown the covers, sheets, pillows, and his boxers off; he swears if he gets up there will be a sweaty version of a goddamn chalk outline on his mattress.

He stretches. Notices he can feel both hands now, fully grown and everything, fingernails and all. Smirks to himself as he flexes his new fingers before reaching over to the nightstand– it's actually a really sturdy cardboard box, but it works just as good– for his phone. The screen responds with a bright 3:02AM overlayed on a photo of him and Vanessa.

There's a pang in his heart for a moment. The same type of twist and pull he felt when Logan got up to leave after their big adventure (AKA saving their universe.)

“See you around?”

Wade tried to swallow the hard lump of desperate hope that had been bubbling inside of him the entire time they ate their shawarma. Hopes it wasn't obvious in his voice. Not a total cry for help, but definitely more of a solemn whimper and puppy dog eyes.

No matter how many times he was used to it– the people he loved leaving or dying or what have you– it still stung like a bitch.

“Probably not.”

And Logan didn't mean for it to come out so harshly, but that's what happened when– and if– he got too close. To anyone. To everyone.

With that, Logan rose from the bench, gathering his cowl and TVA jacket up from the place on the bench separating him and Wade and started walking. Dogpool whined and scratched at Wade's arms to chase after him.

Wade had to do something. Anything. He couldn't let this one– this Logan. His Logan– walk off into the sunset.

No.

Not without him.

“Logan!”

And then he turned around.

And now they're here.

He feels a similar yank and tear elsewhere in his body– lower belly, groin area– whenever thoughts wander back to that glorious time in the Honda Odyssey; Adamantium stabbing in and out of his chest cavity, puncturing his lungs and literally taking his breath away. The tight feeling of multiple seat belts holding him down to the second row passenger seat and the sickeningly happy grin adorning Logan's face when he tied the last knot. Wade remembers smiling just as bright under his mask.

That one definitely got filed into ye ole spank bank for safe keeping.

Sighing, Wade remembers he's sweating like a hog and drops his legs over the edge, planting two clammy feet onto the creaky floorboards. He throws on his previously discarded pair of boxers just in case Logan has a case of insomnia. Gotta take a man out to dinner before you show him your dick, like a gentleman.

Wade peaks his head out into the living room, TV glow assaulting his pupils like a flash bang. The door creaks open wider and Wade steps further out. He doesn't want to wake either furball– you'd be surprised how grumpy Dogpool gets when she doesn't get her beauty sleep– as he tiptoes out in front of the couch.

His breath catches in his chest.

Logan lies propped up on the couch, head resting on the arm with a throw pillow behind for support, arms crossed over a bare, hairy chest rising and falling slowly. A sheen of sweat coats his skin that reflects the changing colors of the TV. Half a snuffed cigar smolders on the coffee table ashtray. The semi-permanent crease between his brows is softer, perfect pink lips parted as he snores quietly.

And to top it all off, he's in his fucking boxers; his jeans are discarded on the opposite end of the couch, kicked off in his sleep to beat the heat.

Wade can't breathe. He can't help but stare, committing the heavenly scene to memory. A knowing smile slowly spreads across his chapped lips.

He's happy. Happy at how peaceful his roommate looks. Happy that Logan is finally feeling safe enough to sleep here. Genuinely. Wade knows first hand what it can be like to be constantly on the run, chasing peace and release, rest and safety.

Tip toes make way to the thermostat, Wade presses the 'on' button to the AC when there's stirring behind him. Head turning slowly, he catches the tail end of Logan mumbling something in his sleep.

“...Wade, please.”

Wade freezes like a carjacker caught in an impound lot. Surely he didn't hear Logan, his roommate Logan– The X-Man, The Wolverine– fucking whining Wade's name in his sleep.

What were the symptoms of heat stroke, again?

Wade shuffles back over to the couch. Feels like a creep watching his fucking roommate sleep, waiting another moment to see if he needs to take a power drill and give himself a DIY lobotomy or not.

“Mm… No, Wade…No, please, don't–” Logan murmurs softly. Struggling, brow furrowing, Adam’s apple bobbing. “Ngh… Don't hurt ‘im… please.”

Logan begins to shake. His head whips from side to side against the pillow, hands dig into the couch cushions, grunting, fists clenching as his claws itch to defend from the phantom threat. Muscles tensing and chest heaving, his breathing grows harder, faster, more frantic.

He's having a nightmare.

Wade recognizes the signs immediately. He knows where Logan's at: some distant memory with talons and sharp teeth assaulting his brain without him knowing. Hell on earth on the worst nights, a light ego beating and insomnia on the better ones.

Wade knows– his stopped two months ago. When Logan came home.

Without another thought– one in which he probably should’ve given– Wade climbs onto the couch to straddle Logan’s hips in the most non-horny way he can make it. Hands press into the center of Logan's chest. He gently calls his name, preparing for the sharp stab of Adamantium through an appendage and/or organ. Nothing he isn't used to at this point, but he secretly prays it isn't something totally major.

“Logan. Peanut, hey,” Wade whispers. He presses further into Logan, heat radiating off rough, hairy skin into Wade's tingling fingers. “Logan, it's me, Wade. You're having a nightmare, you’re scaring the kids–”

SHNK. Intestines. Ten or fifteen points, depending on if it's big or small. Wade's thankful it wasn't a kidney or his stomach– those are a bitch and a half to grow back.

“Okay– that was maybe warranted,” Wade grunts. Both sets of claws penetrate straight through his lower abdomen as Logan jolts awake, sitting up as much as he can while pinned under Wade. A gnarled scream catches in his throat. White-hot knuckles graze the skin of Wade's stomach, who is really, really trying his hardest not to get a boner right now.

“Th’fuck's goin’ on?” Logan slurs, face inches from Wade's bare chest. He blinks. Once. Twice. His brow returns to its permanent crease as he adjusts to the scene before him: bright TV glow contrasts with dark shadows Wade casts over him.

Wade is on top of him and his claws are inside of Wade.

Face scrunching– not inherently in disgust, Wade hopes– claws retract with a muted grunt. Wade can breathe again while his body begins repairing itself. His hands are stuck to Logan's heaving chest, fingers fanning out over each delicious pec. Thick arms rest on either side of him, elbows bent and resting on Wade's thighs.

Wade swallows, praying the man currently underneath him either A. doesn't know where his hands are at the moment or B. this is going exactly the way he wet-dreamt it a few weeks ago. Completely unprompted too, by the way– he's no stranger to the sick side effects of PTSD, he wouldn't knowingly exploit that in order to get into his roommate's pants. He's got more class than that.

Well, most of the time, that is. Again, completely unintentional. Coincidence, if you will.

Maybe he does need that DIY lobotomy.

"Where th'hell am I?" Logan asks, voice less threatening and more alert. His eyes flick from the TV and travel up Wade to meet sympathetic chocolate eyes already on him. Wade peels each finger off Logan's chest and sits back on his knees. Gaze softening, hands fall into his lap inches above the chiseled V pointing to down under Logan's boxers. He doesn't dare move a fucking muscle.

His pinky finger twitches.

"You're okay. You're here, in my world, Peanut. Twenty-first century. New York. We use fifty-cals now, not muskets. You were having a nightmare–"

Wade's throat hitches. He's not gonna cry, no– he's not that much of a fucking empath, for chrissake– but what he wants to say versus what he probably should say get lodged together on the way down to his mouth from his brain.

"I– I did the pressure thing Dogpool does with me, sometimes. Except I thought you'd wanna wake up to this pretty face 'nd not one with drool."

Logan looks skeptical, searches Wade to see if he's actually telling the truth for once, features relaxing once he mulls it over in his head. Wade's gnawing at the inside of his cheek when Logan's thumbs subconsciously start rubbing slow circles over the toughened skin of his upper thigh. Upper-outer, to be exact, but right now Wade doesn't really want to dwell on the minute details.

"So," Logan starts, "you woke me up… 'cause I was havin' a nightmare…?"

"Well, not exactly because you were having a nightmare, no." Wade runs a hand over the top of the couch, distracting himself. "Al really likes this couch. Antique, actually. Vintage find. Be a shame if some man with claws–"

Logan's palms press into Wade's thighs. A warning.

"Mouth."

Wade sighs. Hands fall into his lap once more and he is absolutely not fighting to gawk at Logan's V that lights up like a road work sign pointing to a detour. The semi-hard abs just above definitely do not make him want to run his fucking tongue across them like a cheese grater.

He looks back to Logan, clears his throat. "Look I– I've been there. Am there, honestly. Didn't want you t'be alone whenever you woke up, but I also know how hard it is to wake up. So," he shrugs, voice lowering, "thought I'd help. Help you come down from it, I mean."

Logan stares back in response, eyes trained on Wade like a hunting dog and a downed fox. Wade swears the corner of his lip twitches along with the meaty hands on his legs.

He's gotta get the fuck out of here.

"So!" Wade starts, "Seems everything's in working order. The doctor will be in soon–" Wade starts to scramble off before realizing Logan's holding him down. Sharp claw stubs poke into scarred skin and a deep growl rumbles out of Logan's chest. Not necessarily threatening, no, more of a 'you're not goin' anywhere.' Wade gulps, hands raise up jokingly, forcing his racing mind to think of a naked, cross-country skiing Al to stave off the blood violently rushing to his stubborn cock.

Logan sits up, closing the space between him and Wade. Hazel eyes study wide brown ones. Logan takes a breath, shaky but sure.

"Don't want y't'go. Not– not yet."

It's hesitant. Unsure but curious, quiet enough Wade thinks he's hallucinating again. Wade mulls it over, leans forward with hands back on Logan's chest, skin and muscles taught underneath with tactile tension.

Wade sucks in a breath, moves his hands higher to Logan's collarbone and it's grossly apparent how tense Logan is. Hostile to any sudden movement, untrusting of touch to the point his fists shake against Wade's legs. A slow, tender hand inches up Logan's throat and onto his cheek. Wade feels through the rough facial hair and unkempt stubble, a thumb finds the shaved spot at the point of Logan's chin and strokes gently. Fists start to unclench, but there's a hesitancy still lingering in the air, under Logan's skin. Wade thinks it smells like fear. Inches away, face to face, breaths fan eachother's faces.

There's a shift in the air and Wade leans forward.

Logan doesn't stop Wade from connecting them together, lips touching lips in the softest manner possible. Almost feels like there's nothing there, Wade's too gentle. Nobody moves, breathes, at first; they're each trying to make sense of what the fuck exactly is happening. Logan isn't saying no, isn't sawing through Wade's skull and Wade isn't pushing himself on Logan.

Okay, maybe leaning in to kiss his roommate might be pushing himself on Logan to the logical bystander, but in the moment it just felt right.

To Wade's surprise, Logan's the first to move.

His lips start molding into Wade's. There's pressure, a little pushing, chapped skin and the remnants of tobacco on his breath when his lips part and his tongue pokes ever-so-slightly through. Wade pushes back, hoping his breath isn't as abhorrently delicious as leftover cigar. He tilts his head, nose poking into Logan's cheek as his does Wade's, and lets his tongue explore a little more. Logan allows him in, meeting him at the tip and hungrily welcoming him. Breaths turn heavy, panting, while hands begin to roam, more comfortable now that they've crossed the line into 'spit swapping' territory.

Wade drinks him in. Greedily swallows the choked-back groans Logan keeps holding in his throat that come out as muted mewls. Fingernails wantonly dig into one another and leave temporary marks that disappear under rapid replacement cells.

It feels like forever when Wade finally comes up for air, unable to focus with the growing hardness digging into his thigh.

"I–fuckin' shit– I think I have an idea." Wade pants like a dog in heat– and fuck, he might as well be at this point. Logan pulls back with lidded eyes and kiss-swollen lips.

"'s that?" He's hesitant. Hands tense slightly over Wade's back, his whole body stiffens.

"Do you– do you trust me?"

Wade holds his breath.

Logan only nods. Adam's apple bobbing, lips part in anticipation and curiosity.

Wade strokes Logan's cheek in reassurance, shoots him a wink before shimmying down his body to the other end of the couch, keeping Logan's legs in between his thighs. Fingers hook around Logan's boxers, in turn causing Logan to jolt up immediately. A set of claws unsheathe an inch away from Wade's throat.

"Th'fuck are you doin'?"

Wade only smiles, taking a hand away and kissing the tip of the middle claw, gently pushing it back into Logan's fist and coaxing him to lay back down. What he's about to do would be easier with an in-tact esophagus.

"Relax, Peanut," Wade coos, "'m not gonna hurtcha."

Logan stares at Wade. Eyes pinch, still suspicious.

"…Promise?"

A sharp pang ripples through Wade's heart.

"Promise."

Logan hesitates, relaxes, gives another go-ahead. Wade's fingers curl once again around the waistband of his boxers and slowly, but surely, pull them down and off him. He can't help the immediate salivatory reflex upon seeing Logan in all his glory; the deep V lights up like a fucking Vegas sign pointing straight to the jackpot.

Logan's big– like, big big. Biggest Wade's ever seen (and Wade's seen a LOT.) An automatic response, Wade's asshole clenches, mistakenly preparing to take Logan. Wade forces himself to relax– that's not happening tonight. He promised Logan he'd go slow, no surprises, no whipped cream or leather cuffs.

Not yet, at least.

His own cock weeps happy tears through his briefs. He cannot believe how perfect– how beautiful– how fucking huge Logan is.

"What're you gonna do?" Logan whispers, hesitant eyes hooking on Wade and every little movement he makes.

"If it's alright with you, 1972 Burt Reynolds, 'm gonna suck every ounce of tension out of your perfect, hairy body and make you feel the best you've felt in a looong time."

Logan scoffs a laugh, brow furrowing as he shakes his head slightly. "Don't know who–"

Wade shushes him. "Don't worry, baby girl. I'll be your Sally Field."

Wade smirks at Logan's confusion and mentally makes a note to his future-self to show Logan the glory that is Smokey and the Bandit.

A gentle hand steadies the base of Logan's cock while another slowly wraps around his stiffness, standing at attention and beginning to cry, begging for Wade's touch. Heavy breathing and bitten-back grunts fill Wade's ears. It's a heavenly symphony he's lucky enough to have a front and center seat for. Free ticket, too.

"Ngh– Red, whatever you're gonna do– ah–!"

Wade presses his lips to the base, bush of hair tickling his nose and lips while he kisses his way up to the head, tongue poking out to lap up the precum. Before siccing his lips around Logan, Wade looks up once more, mostly searching for permission to help him feel pleasure for once instead of pain.

Logan reads Wade's mind and sends a small nod in response.

With a shit-eating smirk, Wade welcomes Logan into his mouth, flattening his tongue and curving his lips over his teeth so as not to scratch the sensitive, velvety skin. Drool spills out the corners of Wade's mouth and swallows a gag when Logan jams into the back of his throat, digging into his uvula. Squeezing the base and cupping the balls, Wade begins to bob his head to the rhythm of Logan's mess of 'fuck's, 'shit's, and–

"Mmm–Oh–oh, my god," Logan moans. A calloused hand runs over Wade's bald head, scars and grafts rippling under his touch while another hand grips tightly onto the side of the couch. Wade slurps up every drop of precum, relishing in the sweet musk of Logan's scent, head bobbing and tongue swirling in tandem. Logan's hips buck up into Wade, fucking his throat without meaning to. No amount of lozenges or peppermint tea will be able to cure the sore throat Wade knows he'll have come morning.

"F–fuck, Wade, baby– shit– that feels so–!"

Another lengthy dive down onto Logan hits the very back of Wade's throat, pulling a long, strenuous 'fuck' from the deepest part of Logan. He bucks harder into Wade who stalls, choking on Logan's cock while his own strains against his briefs. Another swipe of tongue, another gag and seeping drool, and Logan is officially done for.

"F–fuck! Motherfucker! Oh my, god, Wade–!"

Curses and chants and shaky breaths fill the living room as Logan spills into Wade with an 'O' on his lips and a hand on the back of Wade's head. There's a sharp shngk and a sting at the tip of Wade's ear as red warmth drips down onto Logan's thigh; his claws unsheathe into the couch this time, not Wade, who slurps and sucks every last drop of mutant cum from Logan's softening cock like it's the Fountain of fucking Eden.

He comes up for air, finally, lungs gasping against a swollen, fucked throat. He sits back panting on his thighs and Logan's legs underneath, a mix of cum and drool and the slightest bit of blood running down his cheeks and neck. Wiping away the mess with the back of a hand, blurry vision focuses back into reality and onto his roommate.

His roommate. Logan. Wolverine. Who's dick he just sucked the ever-living hell out of.

Well this is awkward.

Wade swallows, offers a crooked half-smile to the man who he just sucked, fucked, and milked dry.

"How 'bout them Yankees?"

Logan barks a laugh. A real, genuine laugh, one with teeth and spread lips and legitimate amusement. Wade preens.

"That was–" Logan wipes beads of sweat off his brow, "Fuck it. That was fuckin' amazing, Wade." He stuffs a hand behind his head, blinks a couple of times to recalibrate. "Didn't know that mouth did anything else 'sides talk."

Wade shrugs cutesily. "It impresses me sometimes, too. Helps when I have a willing participant. Just hope you signed the paperwork."

Logan shakes his head. Arms reach up to grab onto Wade, pulling an ear to Logan's lips.

"Now how 'bout we take care of you next, baby? Hm?"

\|/ \|/ \|/ \|/ \|/ \|/ \|/ \|/ \|/ \|/ \|/ \|/ \|/ \|/ \|/ \|/ \|/

Morning sun and a weight on his chests wakes Logan from probably the most peaceful sleep he's had in… well, ever, honestly.

There's a wetness and mix of smells wafting into his nostrils that make him stir next; combination of what feels like a tongue on his cheek making way towards his lips, dog breath, and the sweet smell of something cooking in the kitchen. Eyes fly open when a whine vibrates on his chest, finding himself greeted by Dogpool wagging her rat-tail with eyes bugging out of her little head.

"Gah– get off me, mutt," Logan scolds, sitting up and gently shoving Dogpool onto the couch cushion next to him. He runs a hand over his face and into his hair, the crick in his neck a little less noticeable this morning.

"Gooooood morning, sunshine!"

Logan looks up with tired eyes still adjusting to the morning light to find Wade in his robe covered in flour with a mixing bowl cradled in his arm as he stirs. Last night comes screeching back to Logan as soon as he locks eyes with his roommate, mouth going dry and dick twitching in his boxers.

Wade only smiles, not at all hiding his obvious glance at Logan's crotch. "You want chocolate chips or blueberries in yours?"

Logan shakes his head. "In my what?"

"Pancakes, Peanut. In your pancakes."

"Oh. Yeah." Logan blinks, then scoffs a laugh to himself. "Yeah, Mouth. I'd, ah– blueberries. I'd like blueberries."

186 notes · View notes

bloodcasket · 3 months ago

Text

“ BLOOD BOIL ”

PAIRING: DI!Jill Valentine x Fem!Reader

WARNINGS: NSFW! (Death Island Jill), age gap relationship (not as specified as my previous fic), female described reader, dominant Jill Valentine, submissive reader, manhandling, rough intimacy, mentioned use of strap-on toy, words used to describe toy such as “dick” - etc, hair tugging (ive tried my best not to specify hair texture), pinch of degrading, concept of power-play dynamic, jealousy & argumentative situations, use of “gaslighting”. LIGHTLY PROOF-READ!

WORD COUNT: 6.4K+

DESCRIPTION: Jill’s jealousy is like spitting fire, just from one simple glance of a man speaking to you. Perhaps she’ll use her words against you. Force you on your knees to make you understand.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: Sigh. Not my best work, but here we are my friends. I acknowledge this is lackluster, but I missed writing for Jill, and so I at least want to do something for her. My apologizes! I will edit later if there are any mistakes. And hopefully, my brain will be ready to write again.

You’re invested thoroughly, thumbs bending into the hardened wheel, and your pink tongue wiggling in place, caught between your two front teeth, canines gnawing down amongst the moist muscle, all whilst you remain burrowed into a blanket of concentration.

So close, and nearly there. The banner sign is spread wide just up ahead, the crimson finish line taunting you, and the wheels of the vehicle skidded against the road, engine humming as the speed heightens. The countdown is in white bolded numbers in the upper right corner of the screen, approaching the last few seconds, there’s only a few more feet left-

That is, until an all-too-familiar ringing soon began to vibrate beside you. Perhaps it’s been the fourth time that she’s answered a phone call today. You couldn’t exactly give an explicit or precise answer, you had lost count a few hours back. Nonetheless, it drew your attention away all the same, hands loosening against your wheel.

“Gotta answer this, just give me a sec.”

A gruff response is heard from your right, and you watch from your peripheral vision as the other woman sits up from the false car seat. She trudges along the neon star-patterned carpet, her calloused thumb tapping with haste against the brightened screen of her phone as she sauntered over to the exit door. Clearly leaving no chance of objection from your side, too quick on her feet to even spare you a mere glance.

The car seat rumbles from below, the vibrations resembling a mini earthquake just against the flesh of your thighs, signaling your loss. Your softened eyes peer upwards and flicker toward the games’ screen. “Last place” taunts you in a pixelated format, the letters spinning around in repetitive loops. You had lost, and now the game was finished. The taste of triumph now blemished and dulled. An abhorrent sink of your heart weighs down in your rib cage, strong enough to plummet into your stomach.

You’re almost beginning to question whether this was all worth it or not. The plans, the date, the broken promises she always manages to cultivate off the tip of her tongue. You hadn’t forgotten the way the older woman’s rough hands circled your waist earlier this morning, pulling you close. Velvety lips tracing your cheekbone; leaving chaste kisses in its wake.

All about you, today. That’s what the middle-aged brunette had ensured. But ruined plans were practically habitual when it came to such a relationship with a woman of her degree. Ensnared in her work. Drowned in stacks of reports and hour long meetings. Body battered and aching by the time she’s finished training. It’s always “saving civilization” and “eradicating bioterrorism” first— and, of course — you came second. The way she has been so adamant on abandoning you today makes that point even more crystal clear, with each individual call she’s making, more words exchanged about sudden work relations rather than her own girlfriend on a well planned date.

It takes all your willpower not to let it dilute your mirthful attitude. With a shrug of your purse’s strap over the arch of your shoulder, and the shimmying of your hips out of the vibrating car seat, you begin to stand. Make your way over to a different game across the expanse of the arcade room. The area is dimly lit, save for the intensely hued lights flashing from each individual game screen.

Whilst you stay immersed by mashing blue and red buttons inside, a grin over your youthful features, Jill Valentine is much on the contrary. She’s stood outside, a scowl cast over her pink lips as she speaks with her colleague about information she could, quite literally, give two shits less about. Her boot is kicked up against the wall of the building, an expression of irritation clouding over her already-hardened features, wrinkles of age twisted around the flesh of her waterline, smile lines curling downward against her frown.

“Tomorrow, alright? I’m busy today. No more calls, got it?”

She warns, swallowing down the hiss that nearly pounces out from between her lips. She wants to say something worse than that. Maybe even a good, ‘go fuck yourself and stop calling my number’ sounds more appealing, but she diverges from actually saying that venomous remark. Doesn’t stop her from muttering a few curses under her breath once she’s hung up the phone, though.

There’s two sides of the story here, but at the end of the day, both of you are unsatisfied with how today's events are being twisted. The older woman is aggravated that she's being interrupted from her time with you. The younger, you, becoming rather solemn over the fact that your girlfriend is constantly being taken away.

The short-haired brunette rubs a palm across the stretch of her forehead, long fingertips and wide knuckles bumping up against her pale skin, and she breathes in before exhaling a hefty amount of air.

“Alright”, she shrugs, saying this more to herself in reassurance than anything else, mentally preparing herself for that look of despair in your pretty eyes that she’ll soon be faced with. God, she felt terrible.

She shoved her phone back into the small pocket of her jeans and pivoted on the heel of her shoes, hand grasping for the door handle. She brought herself back inside the arcade. She almost smiles at the sight of you. All excited and giddy, practically bouncing on the balls of your feet. ‘Like a kid in a candy shop’, she’s chuckling to herself, boots shuffling along the soft trim of the patterned carpet.

Almost.

But seeing another form pressed up against your side sours something deep inside her. Large hands guiding yours to certain buttons on the machine, hip brushing up against hip, boisterous laughs echoing in the air, all whilst the cartoonish music and spirited sound effects synthesize in the background.

The woman can feel the pumping organ within her chest palpitate, it’s warm and uneasy, a maelstrom of heat broiling at the pit of her stomach and seeping into the pores of her skin. Her flesh is set aflame, fists clenched, and her jaw tensing; her teeth grit inside her mouth, white canines squeaking and clashing against each other in a slow grind.

Jealousy is the easiest way to describe the scorching sensation. Seeing what’s rightfully hers — melt under the presence of another?

‘I left her alone for one goddamn second.’

Jill Valentine scowls as she feels her blood singe. ‘The hell does he think he is? What gives him the right to just fuckin’ walk right up and get into my girlfriends personal space?’

She tries to be bitter, tries to find a reason for her unreasonable irritation. Beaming brightly, the apples of your cheeks uplifted and shimmering, round eyes focused on some stupid fighting game that resembles Mortal Kombat. Jubilant and content, obsidian pupils dilated. This beautiful display, and yet, it wasn’t for her to indulge in, was it? It’s as if a hand had reached into her chest and squeezed her heart.

Her ego has deflated, and like a dejected child, she glumly sits herself down close nearby, slumped in her seat as she watches you chatter with the male stranger.

Her phone vibrates. Another message. She ignores it purposefully, thoroughly imprisoned into the wreck of her own insecure psychology.

The evening has improved, for the most part. At least, it’s more appealing for your half rather than the middle-aged woman. The two of you eat at a nice restaurant just downtown, settled into your seats at a wooden table, a view of the lively city; just outside the wide casement windows beside you, a serenic display.

Not even a nice meal can save the grimacing brunette's mood. Not when you’re rambling on and on about the new combos and tricks that you’ve learned today, or about how much you’ve improved on a specific fighting style game. It only seems to tamper with Jill the more she’s listening to you.

You speak with tones of exultation and glee, fascinated and bewildered from the mere fact that something you once were intimidated by is now mastered by a smash of your finger against a button. So many clashing statements of ‘he taught me this,’ and ‘he taught me that’ had been eagerly pronounced amongst the opening of your lips and the click of your wet tongue.

Jill tightened her hold against her cutlery, her fork scraping along the edge of her porcelain plate. Watching your facialized jocundity does nothing but dampen the warmth she once envisioned for today.

“Yeah”, she hums in response, nodding her head, her discouragement concealed by a pleased facade, “I’m glad you had fun, baby.”

Veins bulge, and her body heats up. She can feel her blood grow scalding hot once more, that air of vexation and covetousness swirling around her head and mixing her brain into mush.

The car ride home is no different. Her skin has grown white around the bulbs of her knuckles, hands gripping firmly on the steering wheel. It’s a silent drive, unpleasant. Even more-so when the two of you return to the comfort of your shared apartment.

That’s when everything unwinds. Now away from the curious eyes of the public, finally concealed underneath the roof of your own home. You make an attempt to speak again, but are silenced immediately.

The middle-aged woman kicks the door closed with the heel of her boot, sending it slamming behind her, the lock on the knob jittering as it connects into place. You had acknowledged that perhaps she was upset, but to this length of such physical force? She was damn mere seconds from breaking the door. You really couldn’t read her as well as you always thought.

You had winced, crumbling into yourself at the sudden act of outrage. Shoulders hunched up so far that you felt them brush up against the outer shell of your earlobe. You cowered and trembled, bones threatening to just melt into jelly, and shrink away into a meek puddle of nothingness. An image of a mouse, so small and fragile, standing in the shadow of a warlike fiend.

“Can’t shut your goddamn mouth for one second, can you?”

The seasoned agent scowls, her jaw tightening up and falling stiff. When in a moment of anger and fury, rationality seems so far from the field of vision, and right now? The blue-eyed older woman was blinded. Jaded from her own sense of possession and childish jealousy.

“Do you think I really give a shit about how much fun you had with some stranger? I leave you for one second-”, her pink lips are pruned and falling agape as she spits out words of poison, eyes widened and nearly bulging from her sockets, “one fucking second, and you’re letting some dickhead breathe down your ass? His hands all on you?”

Evocation crosses her, a vision of the man in the arcade. His eyes descend upon you just behind the gleam of his rimmed glasses, lanky fingers drawing against your wrist. Staying firm and still, his body just adjacent from yours. Both faces painted in frames of magenta and indigo, pearly whites showcased from behind the curve of his thin lips; admiring every crevice and curve of your physique and womanly structure.

That’s all that it took for the older woman. She gave it time to marinate in her past memory, but the inner ache had failed to dissipate. Her blood boiled.

“You-”

An immediate expression of confusion unveils, drawing over your quivering features. You’re intimidated by her sudden hostility, the tailbone of your spine colliding against the marble surface of the kitchen counter in a cowardice attempt to escape the situation.

“You looked fine earlier- you said it was alright- I just-”, you’re trembling over each word, you’re beginning to ramble, “I don’t understand why you’re so upset? I didn’t mean to do anything wrong- me and him were just playing together, it wasn’t anything like that. I didn’t even know him, Jill.”

The brunette's lips curl into a cruel, and nearly incredulous smirk at your response, her head shaking whilst she draws her hand out in a physical gesture of her own exasperation. Her face, creased with age and experience, now flushed crimson. She looked crazed.

“Oh, save the bullshit. You liked it, I saw you. Talked about how much fun you had with him all day. Should have just gone home with him.”

“You should have told me!-”

You pipe out, voice drawn out squeaky and timid, your words drowned by the booming shouts she’s hissing out, seething as she dares not face away from you. Determined to win this argument.

Having the audacity to convince you that you’re in the wrong here. As if your innocence and sweetness toward passersby meant that you were unfaithful rather than enjoying simple pleasures. Your one interaction with a man deemed nothing but cheating, and all because he versed you in a mortal kombat game.

“Oh, what? I’m supposed to tell you not to go out and fucking flirt with other people?”

Jill has never acted like this before. Had always bathed you, her beautiful and prized girl, in dollops of sugary sweet words and reassurances. She’s the older woman here. Shouldn’t she be more understanding? But so stuck in her old-fashioned ways, brain clearly riddled with arrogance and self-righteousness.

An argument had never been formulated, emotions never stirred. Maybe a few huffed words were exchanged over which groceries to buy, or what dinner to eat — but such verbal abuse was nonexistent. Had never happened in your “tranquil” relationship. Except for now, that is.

So much effort, all for the middle-aged woman’s tender facade to be burnt down into smithereens, and her jealousy is like spitting fire, making your eyes well up with liquified warmth. You harshly remind her of her mistakes prior. Your planned date with her, the arrangements and proposed ideas. All for her to be entwined in her cellular device, making calls and sending out texts for the whole day.

“What about earlier? When you ignored me, and were glued to your phone all day? Clearly your job is more important than me.”

The waterworks threaten to spill over the dam that is rightfully your rounded eyes, glistening tears mounting in transparent pearls along your rows of onyx shaded lashes. Something in Jill’s face twists at the sight, her stomach churning. Realization, but it’s blurred away quickly.

“You couldn’t care less about me, could you? You promised me— promised you’d spoil me today and give me your undivided attention. I guess I don’t matter?”

You swallow mid-sentence, heart thumping against the structure of your rib cage. Each word of yours is so weak and broken, resembling a sickly and puny hiccup. Your trembling palms are grasping for the counter behind you, nails clutching for the cool surface. You were tired of the accusations. Exhausted from being denied her love and affection, and instead being faced with taunts and insults. You deserved better than this.

“I don’t understand why you’re so mad at me. Because he gave me a better time? Because he didn’t toss me aside for hours and avoid me? Break promises?”

The way you bit back was unexpected, but the moment you let it sink it, regret soon molds over.

The air surrounding the two of you is thick and heated, so sweltering that it threatens the capability of breathing. Your words had struck Jill deeply, aiding the maddened concoction that bubbles in the blackened abyss of her belly. The acidity rising up the tube of her esophagus, bile trapped inside her throat.

“I’m done with this conversation, Jill. You’re just- you’re not being fair. I’m not going to argue with you over this.”

And when you turn to face away from her? Daring to flee, even in such a time like this — strict actions soon come after the exchange of harsh words.

Jill crosses the room, a large hand stretching to reach you. Her calloused hand circles around your wrist, clutching you firmly and with much purpose, thumb dipping toward the head of your ulna bone. She pulls you in a sharp and precise yank, not caring about how she manhandles you, even after the exaggerated yelp that is pushed from your plush lips.

The rough pads of her fingertips dip into your smooth flesh, her blunt and trimmed nails digging crescents along the velvety surface, forcing you to succumb to her forced authority. So many years she’s spent using those fingers to wield weapons and train in combat, now abusing their force of power by bending you into a cage of submission.

“The hell do you think you’re goin’?”

Another tug, and your shoulder blades collide against her chest, your figure taut and almost held in a paralyzed state, not daring to move an inch. Nor a bare centimeter. Your face grows pallid, knees wobbling beneath you and nearly failing to stay balanced.

“Don’t ever walk away from me when I’m talking. Do you understand me? You listen when I speak to you.”

Moist heat fans over the stretch of your nape, and your neck hairs curl up in response. Goosebumps prickling up along your arms and legs the moment you are subjected to the humidity of her breath blowing out along your ear, her robust anatomy pressing rigidly against your own limbs.

You can hear the clack of spit draw atop her gums, echoing along the press of her tongue whenever she’s vocal. Her voice is gruff and deep, yet feminine and rich all the same. Drawing out sentences of dominance and command that make strange waves of heat lap at your tummy, pooling in the center of your cotton panties. You mistake the sudden dampness for a burst of anxiety.

“Do you have any idea…”

She pauses, as if holding back from lashing out on you entirely. She’s being cruel. Scowling as she stands behind you. Her breasts flush along your back, and her firm hands trapping you down. Making sure you don’t run away this time. Not that you’d even contemplate it.

“Do you have any idea how I felt? How I feel? The shit I do? I’ve got a job. Risk my life every fucking day. I’ve been in this mess probably longer than you’ve been alive, you know that?”

A gulp resounds from your mouth, tastebuds along your wriggling pink muscle now wrought with parchedness, lacking any formulation of moisture. Valentine continues after taking a sharp breath, each syllable she pronounces is rough and gnarled.

“So I can buy you stupid shit, like a ticket to the arcade. So you can sit around, and let some shithead drool over your head. And now you’re blaming me? Because I had some calls to make? Because you couldn’t be patient for a split second?”

Her calloused digits release the grasp along your wrist, now shooting upward to thread through the roots of your hair, curling into the locks and giving a firm tug. Controlling the position of power so tortuously. She pulls so hard that a squeak is forcedly erupted from you, stars swimming in your vision.

“And the funniest thing?”, she grimaced, still scowling beside your ear, “you haven’t apologized once. You didn’t even try.”

She yanks along the strands as if your tresses are some sort of personalized leash, nails scraping along the slope of your scalp, bringing you so far back that the arch of your throat is craned downward. The crown of your head pushed into her pronounced collarbone, doe-like eyes peering up at the older woman.

“Do I have to teach you how to apologize now, too? Have no goddamn manners for your age. Always want everything.”

Warmth floods your tummy once more. Something runs slick along the square of your gusset. You feel it whenever you wobble and shake, the sensation of stickiness webs elongated strands across the bridge of your puffy labia. It’s not your self-proclaimed anxiety. It’s your undeniable arousal.

“I’m sorry”, you sputter out a hoarse response, your supposed apology that the older woman demanded. She doesn’t seem to let up though, but of course she wouldn’t. Jill Valentine has never been the type to easily succumb — or sugarcoat, either. And with the current events? Consider her praise and sugary sweetness gone for tonight.

“You’re sorry”, she grunts out mockingly, condemnation swirling in the depths of her obsidian pupils. “I’m sure you are.”

With your hair still firmly gripped between her fingers, she presses her hips into the softness of your rear, propelling you forward with a quick shove.

You stumble on your clumsy feet the moment she ushers you into the kitchen, steps unpurposefully misplaced, and soon enough — your right cheek is smushed along the crisp white marble countertop. You find yourself bent over the kitchen’s island, memories of dicing vegetables along cutting boards, and preparing supper for your lover have been eradicated. Replaced by an image of sheer wanton destruction.

It’s filthy the way you writhe along the hardened surface, thighs spread apart and separated by Jill’s intruding knee. She wedges her toned leg in-between, the warmth of her kneecap placing cruel pressure against that specific swell that hides inside your undergarments. You have to bite back the urge to grind your hips downward; the temptation is so intense that it makes your brain fog.

“If you’re so sorry, you know what you did wrong, I take it?”

Both of her slim and scarred hands abandon your hair and slide down the bend of your spine, digits rolling up your pretty little skirt in each palm, crumpling the cotton material into an irrelevant lump of creased fabric. Jill shrugs the hem of the garment to the top of your hips until it’s shriveled and stiff, baring your back-end to her hungry eyes.

“So”, she begins to speak, the trace of her hands along the suppleness of your right cheek was nice and simple, her voice devoid of any real emotion, “tell me

what you’re apologizing for.” She cups the soft flesh, her fingers dipping into your ass as if it were dough. “And what you did wrong.”

What you did wrong? The hilarity of it all was tremendous.

You can’t find the words to speak, no reasonable way to reply to her command. You nearly huff from the audacity, but your words grow choked up, and your voice is drained due to the spreading ache that suddenly engulfs your rear. She’s spanked you, quick and sharp, the edge of her calloused palm dragging against your soft flesh like a whip, the texture like dry sandpaper as it strikes you.

A cry bursts from your lips, a wail so pitiable that Jill can’t help but chuckle with dastardly amusement. Any other moment, and she would have soothingly brushed her fingers against the crimson welt that shapes into your ass, offering cherishing caresses in replacement of a verbal apology. But In her current belief? Your lack of response challenges her patience, nearly ready to land a firm hit against your flesh for a second time.

“I’m- I’m sorry for talking back-”, words tumble out in a clustered mess, your speech impaired due to the throbbing ache that courses up along your hip. You grit your teeth once the same treatment spreads to the surface of your adjacent hip, Jill’s hardened blows lashing along the unmarred skin, leaving no patch of muscle unattended.

“And for speaking to him-”, three spanks she’s planted, and yet you’re already a quivering mess, shrunken and beaten against the solid countertop. There’s no doubt in hell that she’s not being easy with you, and the experience behind her proficient hits proves that.

“Jesus Christ.”

The older woman mumbles out, and the way she hisses under her breath is akin to something of judgment and surprise. A blunt nail curls into the hem of your underwear, tugs it, and stretches the flimsy and sheer fabric upward.

It’s only then that you realize what she’s scrutinizing. Especially after you feel the drag of her thumb dipping toward your clit, rubbing slow circles against the cloth in a devilish tease. Your teeth clash and bump against each other, a pathetic whine almost escaping, and all due to the older woman’s perverted touch.

“Your panties,” a boisterous laugh bellows from the pits of her stomach, and you flush with embarrassment as you understand what she means, “you’re soaked.”

Lo and behold, you indeed were “soaked” (as Jill had quoted). A patch of wetness soils the gusset of your undergarments, arousal seeping past the threads of fabric, darkening the material that’s clung against the swell of your cunt. To make matters worse, you’re bare and vulnerable, right in front of the older woman’s eyes. She won’t live that down, you just know it. Not until the day you die.

A grunt resounds in the kitchen, her form separating from yours to stand upright, lengthy fingers lazily threading over the zipper of her pants, tugging it downward, hearing the sound rip its way loose.

“So goddamn mad at you right now”, she mumbles under her breath, glowering at your crumpled figure. “Can’t fucking believe you. First, you’re arguing with me — and now this?”, the scowling brunette's fingers finish plopping open the last few buttons of the jeans she’s wearing, navy blue boxers snug underneath. Her pants slither down the hardened muscle of her thighs, undressing herself with impatience.

“Get to the room. Now”, she demands of you, and with that mere order, nothing else needs to be said. There’s no need to delay the inevitable. “And take off that skirt, while you’re at it.”

Your heart lurches in your chest, each thrum of the frenzied and wild organ so heavy that you feel the weight of it sink into the depths of your body. With every singular step, you risk stumbling against the wooden floor; your shoes barely touch the ground as you practically race and scramble just to reach the bedroom door. Like a delicate flower, you are — carried by the gusts of wind that are Jill's oppressive instructions.

With clammy palms and trembling fingers, you grasp for the steel knob and swing the door open, wasting no second to wobble forward and seat yourself off the edge of the mattress.

Metal collides and clinks together in warning, telling you she’s coming. Undoing her shirt, and wrapping the belt around her hand. The processed leather screeching and creasing underneath the grind of the older woman’s digits. She follows your shadow in leisurely strides, turning the corner with measured composure and a solemn expression. As if she hadn’t already planned on how she was going to fuck you dumb.

It only makes the thickened heat between your thighs dribble further into its cotton bed, as each crisp and rough stomp of her boots along the solid floorboards makes you warm with want. Eager. Anticipating. Thighs grind together once you manage to slither your heels off, toes curling into the carpeted material below the bed.

And when you finish unzipping the top of your skirt, allowing the fabric to lower from the dip of your waist, and pool around your ankles — a figure of dominance and control stands in the doorway, the hall devoured by darkness.

Over the course of time, love and intimacy came in their own, individual ways. Between the two of you, that is.

The middle-aged woman found herself to be consistently busy, her nose always pointed and buried into the stack of reports she needed to finish, wrists tight and strained from how long she’s spent scrawling notes amongst the white sheets of torment.

Sex wasn’t as common. Lovemaking being quick and rushed, soft words spoken, honeyed kisses exchanged between bated breaths and velvety lips that speak words of encouragement and devotion.

Nights spent wasting away by the creaking wood of Jill’s office desk. The one she has propped away in some messy room of the apartment. Cork-boards filled with maps and pinpoints, a few pictures of you propped up in irrelevant areas. Atop the cabinet — framed photos of your beaming face furnished along the white walls. She’s got you everywhere, along with her crumpled balls of paper that are strewn around the floor, obvious that she grew too tired or lazy to throw them into the trash bin. She loves you so much that it’s sick.

The brunette finds herself arching her spine into the back of her rolling chair, bony fingers threading through your tresses, curling into it as she grunts. Her head is thrown back as she huffs out sequences of sultry content, your tongue laving bundles of spit over her clit, dipping near her entrance and tasting the drip of her cunt, humming as you feel the press of her fingertips along your skull.

Another night you’ve searched for her, desperate and deprived and begging on your knees. Another night she orgasms, groaning and gasping as she spasms against the lap of your tongue. It repeats like a record, over and over. Until the next day she goes back to work, and refuses to make time with you all over again.

It’s different today. Where everything tumbled down the rabbit-hole.

The sight of her now is so rare, you’re sure you’ll never forget such an image. Obsidian shaded silicone protruding from her pelvis, tilting toward the ceiling as if it’s some striking weapon, foreseeing a prophecy of impending doom. A toy she purchased months before, buried in the past. Clearly forgotten about, and never used — unfortunately kept tucked away into the bottom of her wardrobe. Sleek and shiny. Brand new, and ready for a good breaking in. Tonight’s the night, you suppose.

Her almond shaped eyes bore into yours, rich-colored cerulean swirling around dilated pupils, speaking words without volume. She’s as enchanting as she is daunting, threads of syrupy strands curling down the stretch of her sharpened cheekbones, hair falling as she keeps her gaze on you. The portrait is so beautiful and provocative, you’d never wish this memory to diminish.

“Open your mouth.”

Jill drawls, low and raspy as she waits with her palms laying flat on her hips. Glancing down at your feeble figure which kneels before her, staying balanced whilst you clamp your hands against her thighs.

Poor thing you are, so cautious and wary when your mouth opens, your jawbone taut and rigid, feeling like weighted stone as your quivering lips press forward.

You’re new to this, inexperienced to the bulbous head that is welcomed into the accommodated warmth of your mouth. The plastic has no taste, just the scent of its artificial realness drifting past your nose hairs and swirling around the dizziness in your head.

You clamp tighter around her thighs, swallowing waterfalls of anxious drool down the well of your esophagus, your timid tongue curling up and hiding beside the security of your tonsils. Too nervous to thoroughly take her in.

Like an infant against a pacifier, suckling the tip further into the wetness of your gums, keeping your eyes closed all-the-while the rubber like-plastic protruded from your right cheek. Terrified to be face-to-face with her snarling and haughty judgment.

“You think that’s good enough?”

A calloused hand soothes across the hairs of your nape, laid to curl and rest there as she draws you near. A reminder that she’s in charge. The hardened press of her thumb into your neck confirms that.

“Stick your fucking tongue out. Blow me like a big girl, yeah?”, her tongue runs over her enamel and she sucks, swallowing dryly against the glistening whites of her teeth. “Do it how I want”, and so you try.

With you kneeling, bare and naked, tits hanging below you, and your cunt squeezing around thin air between your legs — you comply. Your cheeks hollow out as you take half of the length into your waiting mouth, plopping the heavy silicone amongst your writhing tongue, allowing the pink muscle to curl around the mushroom-shaped tip. With the rough and warm hand guiding you, you bob your head to a steady rhythm, spit and gargles conjoined.

“Yeah, that’s it. Just keep quiet and put that pretty mouth to good use.”

Slick draws cold over the flesh of your lower lips, arousal potent and thick like molasses as it drips between each pulsating fold. A piteous mewl reverberated in your throat, sweet eyes flitting up to catch Jill’s gaze, and she swears to the heavens she could come from that innocent look alone. The salty tears brimming along the corners of your waterline, mere seconds from spilling — the flush of your skin. You take her so well, you always do. It almost makes her want to croon, and to apologize for being so filled with contempt.

That’s not to be easily given, though. Especially not with the way you gag when the rubberized cock dips past your tonsils and tickles along the slimy walls of your throat, reflexes causing you to choke. You're quick to gain composure, though, too cock-drunk to allow the show to end. You’re back to bobbing your head, nails digging crescents into Jill’s thighs as you clamp tighter and tighter.

You want this. It’s a fact that aids in inflating Jill’s ego.

The bedroom mirror captures the image just across from the both of you, and the older nearly groans at the vision. Watching your pebbled nipples fatten and swell within the reflective glass, breasts swinging as you brought your mouth down with every push. Imitating the way Jill ruts her hips carelessly into your mouth, matching your rhythm. Jesus, it was a sight.

A hand fists into your hair, halting your desperate movements and dragging your mouth off her spit-lathered dick. A sheen of drool pearls along the plastic veins that wrap around the black shaft, glimmering and glistening under the wax and wane of the yellowed lighting. Leaving with an obnoxious pop — you gasp for breath after the separation, spittle soiling your pretty face and coating your lower chin in patches of saliva — all in which had gushed out when you were too busy blowing Jill’s length.

“That’s enough”, the brunette says, respiring heavily, “lay on the bed.” The harness strapped to her hips rattles, the toned muscles in her abdomen rippling with every sharp inhale she takes. She directs you with the point of her chin. “On your back, legs up.”

Spots of black speckle your vision for a second, your sight blurred from the liquid pooling in your eyes, and pearls of sweat lining in columns within the pores of your forehead. It’s hard to almost process what she says, but you understand after a moment of catching your breath, your palms separating from her thighs.

Your knees wobble once you physically begin to stand on your feet, and you internally chastise yourself for not being quicker and more precise. You totter over a couple of feet, crawling atop the silky sheets without much complaint, and she’s in your peripheral, right behind you.

The comfort of the bedsheets surround you, cushioning your form and laying you like a princess amongst her throne. It’s necessary, of course, due to the older woman’s authoritative press of her hand into your chest, sinking your naked body further into the comforter. Might as well get snug before your brain is fried from sex, which leaves you as nothing but a pile of sizzled, meaty mush.

“Atta girl”, Jill coos with a salacious glint in her eyes, her hips meeting the backs of your thighs the moment she grasps onto your legs and keeps you held upright.

She slants her head to the side, brunette strands falling astray as she examines your pussy, calloused hands kept firm around your ankles. A few seconds of examination, and then a shit-eating grin becomes pronounced over her features. Thoroughly complacent after acknowledging that you’ve grown so wet that she doesn’t even need to prepare you.

“Don’t even move an inch”, she warns, “Just like that.” A hand slithering down from your ankle to her pelvis, taking a moment to stroke her silicone dick for a moment, a palm wrapped firmly around the thickened shaft; making haste to rub the head up against your cunt. She lubricates herself in your juices by rocking her hips to a steady rhythm, the toy dipping back and forth beneath the cushion of your lower lips, watching the moisture disperse. A generous coat of your sloppy spit and arousal scillinates over the deeply shaded rubber.

A whine escapes your lips, head thrown back as she teasingly stimulates your clit just from the gentle prod of her cock slotted up against your pussy, and you sob, hands clamping down on the sheets with desperation. The friction is delicious and brutish equally.

But nothing in this universe compares to the euphoria of when she fills you. Guiding the toy with one hand, watching the girth fill you with ease. It’s a tight fit, your cunt swallows her up within mere seconds, squelching cervix walls wrapping around her length. As if never wanting to let go, mirthful at her forceful entry. You’ve never felt so stretched before, it’s almost indescribable how big Jill Valentine is.

“Jill….”, you cry, but it’s with bliss rather than pain. The sound of your high-pitched squeaks are enough to make her rasp out a moan, scarred hands pressing your legs up to your chest, basking in the submissive portrait you’ve painted. The brunette feels her own heat build up beneath the restriction of her strap harness, salivating whilst she watches your adorable little bud grow erect. No longer thinking about the guy from earlier, now, are you? Neither is she.

The older woman drives her dick further within you, in and out, in and out — all with a precise rock of her hips, her muscles relaxed. Beads of salty sweat slip down in rivulets, the lines of liquid traveling past her neck and in between the supple dip of her cleavage. Consumed by the ample swell of her tits hiding beneath the gray fabric of her sports bra.

She fucks you until you orgasm too many times to count — and what else is there to do? With you, so weak and whorish beneath her, always bent from her instruction. She’ll continue until you’ve learned your place.

#jill valentine smut #bloodcasket #jill valentine x female reader #resident evil x reader #resident evil smut #resident evil fanfiction #jill valentine fanfiction #jill valentine x reader

178 notes · View notes

harryslittlefreakk · 11 months ago

Text

we could hide away

(late night talking part 4)

Summary: when a photo of you and harry is leaked, your relationship suffers. can you manage to mend it despite hurt and miscommunication?

Warnings: pure angsty, fluffy goodness, smut (oral, f and m receiving)

A/n: thank you as always for everyone’s support on the previous parts 😭🫶🏼 it means the world to me , especially for the very idea that inspired me to start writing again! please let me know if there’s anything you want to see from our babies, any requests etc in general. i don’t know how much i like this part, my head is sooo fuzzy but i wanted to get it out, so edits may be made in the next few days !!

part one

part two

part three

my masterlist can be found here!

The first thing you heard the next morning was the incessant buzzing of a phone. Notification after notification, call after call. You woke up groggy after passing out in Harry’s arms, still fully clothed on top of the duvet. A headache hit you instantly, a cruel reminder of your perfect night. Harry woke up as you peeled yourself out of his hold, stretching your arms above your head before padding over to the kitchen for some water. His eyes were glazed over, still half asleep as he reached over to shut his phone off.

Harry scrolled through the notifications silently, eyes wide as he clicked on screenshots and messages. You placed a glass of water on his nightstand, crawling back on the bed beside him and wrapping an arm around him from behind. He placed a strong hand over yours, fiddling with the giant S ring you were still wearing. “Fuck, I’m sorry baby, gotta take this,” he mumbled, voice raspy and dry, as he slid off the bed and strode out to the balcony, phone to his ear immediately.

You watched as he shut the door behind himself, placing his phone on the table as he paced around the small space, hands dragging through his messy hair. Your phone was tucked under your pillow, completely drained of battery since you hadn’t managed to charge it. You leaned over to plug it in, eyes still fixed on Harry. Whatever he was talking about, whoever he was talking to, it seemed heated. He was fiddling with anything he could find, jaw tensing up as he breathed in and out. “We can talk about this later,” he said, slamming the sliding door behind him as he re-entered the room. He marched immediately into the bathroom, banging and crashing as he went. You walked over to find him slumped over the sink, cold water dripping off the end of his nose and the point of his chin.

You had no idea how to act. You didn’t know whether to comfort him, stay out of his way, share his anger. Whatever this was, was it even any of your business? It was in your nature to comfort, however, so you walked over and placed a gentle hand on his back. “Hey,” you said softly, pushing his hair out of his face with your free hand. “What’s happened?” Harry turned around and gave you a small smile, pulling his phone out of his pocket to show you. You were totally blindsided, your mouth falling open. It was a couple of grainy pictures, Harry and you in the hotel hallway yesterday morning. You in just his robe and some socks, walking down the hallway with his hand pressed against your lower back. You walking into the room, your hands laced together. The photos were captioned:

exclusive: harry styles pictured with a mystery woman in london

He scrolled to the next screenshot, the same pictures, now captioned:

who is harry styles’ rumoured girlfriend? we’ve narrowed it down!

He continued scrolling, showing you at least 25 posts and news articles about the pictures. They were taken from behind, so it wasn’t even obvious it was him, let alone you. Even still, your perfect, private little bubble had burst. “Harry I- I didn’t even know someone was there, how did this happen?” you looked into his eyes as you spoke, searching for some kind of answer or clue as to how he felt. Just as his lips parted, his phone rang again. He listened to the voice on the other end for a few minutes, nibbling at the skin around his fingers. One strong hand pushed through his hair once the call ended, grabbing a thick fistful of curls as he threw his head back, eyes closed. Harry still hasn’t said a real word to you since he woke up, and seemed to be holding a lot back from whoever called him. Truthfully, he didn’t know what to say. It hurt him that people sought to invade his privacy. It angered him that your relationship was at risk of being exposed because people couldn’t resist selling stories about his life. It infuriated him that he now had to spend the day dealing with his management instead of nursing a sore head with you.

Harry strode into the living room to pull his trainers on, grabbing his trademark Pleasing tote bag from a hook next to the door. He slipped sunglasses onto his head, pushing his unbrushed curls out of his face. You lingered on the opposite side of the room, arms wrapped tight around your chest. “Harry, where are y-,” you started, teeth clamping down on your bottom lip as he interrupted you. “Need to sort this out. Y/n, I don’t want to ask but I need t’know. Was this anything at all to do with you?” He asked. You couldn’t believe he was pointing the finger at you. “Harry, no! No. I wouldn’t- I’d never,” you told him, hurt at the accusation. He nodded curtly, then disappeared out of the room, leaving you wounded and alone.

—

You’d decided to head to Joanie’s after Harry left, needing quality time with your best friend. “I’m so sorry I haven’t been around much,” you rushed into your best friends arms as she opened her front door. She pulled you inside, thrusting a pre-made cup of tea into your arms as you slumped in the corner of her ragged sofa. “I’ve been seeing someone,” you started to explain. “He’s been here in london with me, but I think that’s all over now.” You spilled as much as you could to your best friend, twisting the story slightly to keep Harry’s identity secret.

Wiping your hands against your thighs, you stood up, grabbing a pack of cigarettes from your purse. “Do you have a lighter?,” you asked Joanie, scanning the room. You’d never particularly enjoyed smoking but it was just habit for you to have a couple of ciggies when you were sad or stressed. It started when you and Joanie were much younger, newly 18 and enjoying pubs, clubs and boys far too much. Every time one of you had your heartbroken, got rejected at the club or simply drank too much, you needed to share a pack. Now 6 years down the line, it was a dirty little secret you shared, one that Joanie’s long time boyfriend and new husband didn’t even know about.

You sat on the little brick wall outside her house, talking about your plans for the show tonight. “I want to be where we were on Tuesday,” Joanie sighed dreamily, flicking the ash from the end of her cigarette. You smiled meekly in response, dreading even being in the same venue as Harry, let alone so close to him again. “Did you see he was spotted with someone?” Joanie gasped, slapping her hand down on your knee. “I wouldn’t have married Tom if I knew Harry was dating.”

“Oh yes, your marital status is the one reason he’s gone for somebody else,” you scoffed, the pair of you collapsing into each other in a fit of giggles. You were so glad you had your best friend by your side through all of this, even if you couldn’t be totally honest with her. Joanie had always been the perfect opposite to you - the smart to your silly, the rose-tint to your pessimism, the light to your dark. Or whatever way it needed to go. She always managed to oppose your views and feelings, but in a way that gave both of you exactly what you needed. She lifted you up, mellowed you out, always opposite sides of the same coin. You had even spent your teenage years trying to convince school friends that you were destined to be best friends. Joanie was born on the hottest day of that year, and you on the coldest. It took fourteen years for life to bring the two of you together, but you felt as though you’d known her from birth. She was your soulmate, and it was eating up at you that you couldn’t tell her everything about Harry.

—

On the other side of London, Harry was sprawled across an armchair stuffed far too firm to be comfortable, though he knew that was the point. His long fingers were tapping a rhythm across his thigh, his eyes glued to the empty space left by his still-missing S ring. The tan line left behind sent a twinge through Harry’s chest. He regretted questioning you as soon as he’d said it, though he really didn’t know you well enough to be sure you weren’t involved. For all he knew, this could have been your plan all along. Get friendly with Harry Styles then sell your story to make a quick buck. Truthfully, he felt as though he could trust you, wanted to trust you, but he’d been burned too many times to fully count on his instincts.

“You best start explaining this, H.” Jeff’s voice was kind but stern, a cloud of frustration hanging over his head. Harry held his hands up in surrender, telling his manager, “it’s just a girl I’ve been seeing. Didn’t realise I had t’tell you and the world about it.”

“Harry- I’m your manager, for fucks sake. If you’re out doing things that could make a good story, it’s wise to tell me first. You know we need to get on top of things before anything like this happens.” Jeff’s words were now laced with annoyance. Annoyance with Harry, with the situation, with the media. When Harry failed to say anything further, Jeff pushed again. “So? Tell me what there is to tell and I can find a way out of this for you.”

Harry explained as much as he could, leaving out the raunchier details. He started to speak about ‘kiwi girl’ (as twitter had affectionately nicknamed you), when Jeff held up a hand. “I’m gonna stop you right there, H. Do not tell me this girl is a fan.” Harry’s silence and hanging head was a dead giveaway that you were, in fact, a fan. “And I’m assuming this is the same girl you upgraded the night after?” Harry nodded this time, standing from his seat to pace the length of the room instead. Jeff’s head was in his hands, sighing as he half-yelled “rule number one is you do. not. sleep. with. fans,” slamming the tip of his pen into the table with every word.

“It’s not-“ Harry started. “Not like that, I know. It’s never like that, mate.” Jeff finished for Harry, eyes finding the back of Harry’s head. “Listen, let’s set up an opportunity for more photos with a different woman. Make out you’re having a bit of a phase. Takes the heat off, means you can keep playing with your little fuck-toy in private.”

“She’s not my little fuck-toy,” Harry growled, his irritation threatening to explode out of him. “And I’ve been fucking doing it in private. All of it. Haven’t been with her outside the hotel, not since the first night. Haven’t entered and left at the same time, done everything to keep it fucking private.”

“And no one knows it’s this girl?”

“No, mate. No one else.”

The frosted door swung open, Glenne’s high heels tip-tapping across the marble floor with every step. “Harry!”, she beamed, pulling him in for a lingering hug. “Has my lovely husband been tormenting you?” She looked Harry up and down, eyes full of love and care. He chuckled bitterly, his tired eyes following her back across the room to where she perched on the edge of Jeff’s desk. “This isn’t such a big deal, you know.”

“No, seriously!” she insisted as both men scoffed. “It’s hardly a scandal. ‘Young single man spotted with woman’. It’s not exactly the headline of the century.”

“It is when the world finds out she’s a fan. He’ll be tormented by young girls for the rest of his career now,” Jeff told his wife. “So we don’t let that part get out - not unless you’re serious about her, H. Her family and friends might know if you’re spotted together again, but by the time it has to come out, you’ll be off the market. If you’re not serious, not seeing her again, how you met never has to leave this room. Besides, you’ve been tormented by young girls for years already.”

Harry had no idea how Glenne did it. She always managed to find the best solution, easy fixes that passed right under his and Jeff’s noses. “That works for me,” he sighed, the rubber band snapping from around his chest, finally able to breathe fully and deeply. His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he pulled it out quickly, praying it would be from you. It was Anne.

mum: Just got to the station. Think you have a bit of a situation so will see you later !! Xx

“Mum’s here. I need to go, Jeff. Thank you, Glenne,” Harry muttered as he fled the office, holding his hands up in a prayer position. He sent you a quick text as he left, having not heard from you since he’d left you this morning. Harry was relieved to have a plan, but his heart was still heavy. He should have warned you how quickly things can get real when you’re associated with him. He was so used to fooling around with other women in the industry, women who already knew the ins and outs of life with a celebrity. If the world learned your name, your life would be changed irreversibly. He’d seen what it had done to others, how the media had shared their private details, their families details. You might have known it was a risk, but neither of you had seen this coming so quickly. You hadn’t even discussed it, it was far too soon to even think about what would happen when the bubble burst.

—

You and Joanie had ended up in almost the exact position you were for night one, just as she wanted. You were wearing your red outfit today, wishing you’d worn that on Tuesday to match with Harry. Everything came back to Tuesday. A white denim skirt hugged your hips, carefully hand-painted red hearts dotted all over the material. You’d paired it with a bright red off the shoulder top, and Joanie next to you was wearing the same but in inverted colours. You were glad to have her close by your side tonight, glad to have been able to tell her the bare minimum about your aching heart. She’d insisted on bringing a funny sign tonight, desperate to catch Harry’s attention and make you smile. ‘my bestie had her heart broken, can you cheer her up ?!’, the sign read. You would keep your fingers crossed for the rest of your life if it meant Harry didn’t see the sign, didn’t notice you at all tonight.

He seemed more muted than usual, his dances and energy toned down in comparison to his usual self. You wondered if he’d tried to contact you at all today. Your phone had barely charged before you left for Joanie’s, then died again on your way over. You hadn’t bothered to charge it up since, preferring to ignore the internet for today at least. Harry knew where you were if he wanted to see you.

Joanie’s fingernails were digging into your arm, her screams bordering on nutty as Harry pulled his guitar strap over his head, mere feet in front of you once again. His eyes had glanced over you a few times, but he hadn’t noticed you. Either because he didn’t want to, or his mind was elsewhere. “Don’t tell me he’s going to-“, Joanie started, screaming again as the opening chords to ‘boyfriends’ echoed through the stadium. You couldn’t help the tears that immediately welled in your eyes, threatening to spill down your blushed cheeks. You hadn’t even thought about crying all day, hadn’t felt as though you needed to and now it was all pushing to the surface.

Boyfriends

Are they just pretending?

Joanie wrapped an arm around your waist, using her thumb to wipe a tear from your eye. You rested your head against her shoulder, giving a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. You weren’t even sure what made you so upset, but your heart couldn’t stop aching now that you thought about what had happened that morning- then it hit you. Harry hadn’t even asked you how you felt this morning, thought for a second how these pictures could affect you. After how attentive he’d been for days, it felt like a slap in the face. Had he been pretending? Did he only want you in his bed, only care when it was your secret?

They don't tell you where it's heading

You kept your eyes fixed on Harry, his dark pupils scanning the crowd in front of him through heavy eyelids. They lingered on you for only half a second, not long enough for anyone to notice but long enough for you to watch his breath catch in his throat. His eyes clouded over, blinking rapidly as he cleared his throat and looked away from you.

And you know the game's never ending

He stepped back from the microphone, signalling to the crowd to sing for him as he turned his back, the gut-wrenching glisten of tears in his eyes visible for a split second.

He whispered something to Sarah as the song finished and stepped closer to the microphone, his rich voice suddenly crooning, “baby, you were the love of my life”. Harry’s eyes looked anywhere except for you, hurt and shame written all over his face. He knew he’d acted like a dick today, from the way he handled the situation with you, to the way he spoke to Jeff, to the way he made almost no time for his darling mum and sister before the show. He needed to make it all alright, most of all with you. He silently prayed that you’d know these songs were for you, feel what he was trying to convey.

He moved over to the opposite side of the stage, turning to point at Jonny’s place when he mentioned it. Yours and Joanie’s faces flashed up on the screen, Joanie waving her sign around like a mad woman while you wiped your teary eyes. You laughed at the sight of the two of you, you made an insane pair. Harry was watching the screen as he sang, desperate to let his eyes linger on you without actually doing just that. He blew a kiss to your general area as the band played out, girls around you screaming. He walked past you on his way back to the main stage, watching you subtly catch his kiss with the hand still trying to dry your eyes. That soothed him a little, lifted his mood just enough to get through the remainder of the show.

—

Harry explained everything to Anne and Gemma after the show, head in his hands as they sighed and groaned at his story. “Harry Edward, you’re a very bad man sometimes,” Anne gasped, swatting at his knee. “You got this poor girl obsessed with you, then you ditch her at the first sign of trouble?”

“Oi, I didn’t ditch her!,” he said, his vibe not too far from that of a petulant teenager’s. “I needed to deal with the business side, needed t’sort out Jeff.”

Gemma placed a hand on Harry’s forearm, “have you spoken to her? Explained it all? Y/n is probably going out of her mind right now, H.”

“I think her phones off, we haven’t spoken all day,” Harry sighed. He didn’t have the words to explain to himself, or his family, why this felt like a much bigger problem than it was. Why his heart was so much heavier than it should have been for someone he’d only known for 4 days. “It’s getting late now, go and get some rest darling. See if you can reach her tonight, you’ve got us all day tomorrow.” Anne rose from her seat, tugging on Harry’s wrists to get him moving. She pulled him in for a cuddle when he stood, knowing a mother’s hug can make the biggest problems seem smaller. He held her tight, taking a deep sniff of her floral, earthy scent. She smelled like home. It always seemed to calm him down.

“You did amazing tonight, my special baby boy. Love you so much, we can’t wait to get some proper time with you tomorrow,” Anne said, a radiant grin spreading across her face. She never wanted to see him torn up about anything, hated watching him fall in and out of love every so often, healing the hurt and heartbreak he wore so well. But having her little boy in her arms was more than enough to warm her heart.

—

Harry knocked on your door, feeling sheepish. He was usually far too stubborn to trail back with his tail between his legs so soon, but this was different. You hadn’t done him wrong, hadn’t bought him anything other than joy. You were the innocent pawn in someone else’s game, a game that he hadn’t realised could, and had, hurt you both. He let the gift bag he held fall to his side when you didn’t answer, his clenched wrist going limp.

He knocked again after a few minutes, and again a few minutes after that. He couldn’t hear anything inside, but that didn’t mean you weren’t in there. He turned on his heel, deciding to head back upstairs, hoping he’d at least get a text from you before he slept. Then he saw you, trudging towards the door, eyes fixed on your phone screen. Your hair was hanging down your back in a messy braid, the t-shirt Harry had loaned to you on Monday night engulfing your slender frame. You looked up as you got nearer, brown eyes locking onto his. Stopping in your tracks, you felt the wings of a thousand butterflies knocking against the inner walls of your belly, heart beating like a ticking time bomb. The hallway was silent, the weight of a thousand things you wanted to say to each other but couldn’t find the words to say hanging over your heads. “Hey,” you smiled, reaching for your keycard. “I just went to get some food, is everything okay?”

Harry let out a breath he didn’t even realise he was holding, stepping forward to wrap you up in his arms. Your bodies melted into each other, your hands splayed against Harry’s back, cradling him so tight you thought you might never let go. “Everything’s okay,” he mumbled, pink lips spreading into a warm smile. Holding onto each other, just being close, was enough to make it right.

You let the two of you inside, unpacking your food onto the countertop as Harry lingered behind you. “I got sushi, there’s enough for two if you want to stay,” you offered.

You both sat on the bed to eat, giggles cutting through a peaceful silence as you watched reruns of the Office. Harry’s fingers found yours after a while, his thumb tracing shapes on the back of your hand. “I got you something,” he told you, standing up to grab the gift bag from where he’d left it.

Your eyes were wide with curiosity as you untied the white ribbon, pulling a handwritten note from a tiny envelope.

‘heard you got your heart broken. thought this could cheer you up’.

You shook your head as you read it, a deep blush creeping up your cheeks. “I told her not to take that sign,” you laughed. “I tried to tell her a bit this morning but it’s a little hard to explain.” Harry grinned, “it was sweet. Though I bet she’ll be mortified if she knows she told me I broke your heart.”

A dark green velvet jewellery box sat in the bottom of the bag, slimline and dainty. You looked up at Harry, as if unsure this was for you. “Open it,” he smiled, words coming out small. Inside was the most beautiful necklace you’d ever seen. A tiny chain, the perfect shade of gold to complement your other jewellery. At the bottom of the chain sat a tiny H, studded with imitation diamonds. You bought the box closer to your face, fingers tracing delicately over the elegant design. “H,” you whispered, totally taken aback by the gift. “For Harry,” he smirked. “Do you like it?”

You were stunned, your mouth trying and failing to form words. All you could do was keep tracing over the pendant, eyes glancing between the necklace and the man sitting in front of you. “I love it, Harry. I really do,” you eventually managed, grateful tears filling up your eyes. You set the box down beside you, closing the distance between you and Harry. He held a warm hand to your cheek, pressing a gentle kiss to the end of your nose. “Turn around, let me help you put it on.”

He secured the chain around your neck, peppering soft kisses across your back. “It’s beautiful Harry, really. I can’t thank you enough,” you sighed, fiddling with the H as you spoke. You leaned back against his chest, turning your head slightly to nuzzle against the crook of his neck. “I’m sorry baby, I really am,” he spoke. “Didn’t mean t’rush out on you in such a hurry.”

“Harry, it’s f-“, you interrupted, wanting to put the whole day behind you now that you had him back. “It’s not fine. Didn’t like you seeing me so pissed off, I wanted to get away and sort it all out. But I hurt you.” He was speaking softer now, his voice gentle. “You didn’t Harry, I was confused that’s all. I didn’t know what any of this meant, for you or for us.”

“And I should’ve spoken to you, got on the same page so we could handle it together.” You pulled away from him as he spoke, turning your body around to face him again. You could see the shame etched into every line on his face, the way he’d beaten himself up all day showing in his eyes. You rested your hand on the side of his neck, thumb stroking the sharp edge of his jawline. “You got it sorted though?” you asked. “All sorted, princess. Had to tell everyone everything though. Even told my mum,” he smiled meekly. “Yeah? Told her how pretty and perfect I am?” you grinned, fluttering your eyelashes. “Told her you’re the prettiest girl in the world. After her of course.”

He really did think you were the prettiest girl in the world. Especially now, in his t-shirt, wearing his initial around your neck. Your hair was messy, your skin fresh. The evening light seeping in from the window was illuminating you from behind, giving you an angelic glow.

“Have you showered?” you asked him. “Yeah. But I’ll have another one if it means more time with you,” he grinned, already yanking his hoodie over his head.

—

You were taking turns under the water, laughing and joking as you manoeuvred around each other in the small space. “Give me a kiss,” Harry smiled. “Since when have you asked for kisses?” you laughed, poking at his chest. “Don’t know if I deserve one today.”

“Lucky for you, I can’t deny you any,” you said as you leaned towards him. He held onto the back of your head as his lips met yours. His lips were as warm and as soft as they’d ever been, the tickle of his hot breath sending sparks down your spine. Your tongue darted out of your parted lips, licking a trail across his bottom teeth before slipping into his mouth. Harry moved his mouth to your throat, suckling on your wet skin. “Gonna mark you up, show everyone you’re mine,” he whispered. He ran his tongue over the bruise he left behind, before continuing to kiss down your body, pausing to nibble on your perky nipple. He licked a circle around your belly button as your hands found his wet hair, shifting your body to lean against the tiled wall.

“Open up for me,” he asked, nose nudging into the space where your thighs met. He rested back on his heels, admiring your pussy. “So perfect, my sweet girl,” he drawled, fingers tracing up the inside of your thigh. His warm face was so close to right where you needed him, mouth so close that his tongue could reach out and have a taste. His mouth was watering at the sight of your arousal wetting your folds. He couldn’t take it anymore, he needed to taste you, wet his face with your juices, have you screaming as you came on his tongue.

You were whimpering as soon as Harry’s lips made contact with your pussy, his tongue lapping into your folds. He was eating you like he’d been starving, like your pussy was the first and only thing he’d ever be allowed to enjoy. His nose grazed over your clit as he licked at your entrance, sending your hips bucking into his mouth as the bundle of nerves lit on fire. He chuckled at your body’s reaction, murmuring a slurred, “need daddy to give you more?” You tugged on his curls in response, breathless and unable to speak. He moved immediately to focus on your clit, his lips wrapping around your button as he sucked and popped. He moaned against you, the vibrations shooting pleasure deep into your core.

You’d never found much pleasure from someone’s mouth, yet Harry’s was taking you to places you’d never been before. Your back was arched off the wall, fingertips buried so deep in his hair you could pierce his scalp. Your eyes were grainy, the hot steam from the shower swirling around your head. You felt like you were in a trance, moans and incoherent words slipping out of your mouth uncontrollably.

Harry gripped onto the back of your thigh, steadying himself as he pulled his mouth closer into your entrance. His tongue was licking deeper into you, one finger rubbing circles around your clit. “Harry,” you whimpered, feeling your legs begin to buckle beneath you. Your orgasm rolled over you in waves, your body so limp yet so tense under his touch. His tongue kept fucking into you, his hard cock twitching between his legs as you screamed out a strangled moan. You pulled one hand out of his curls, gripping onto the shower caddy to keep yourself from collapsing. Your head was spinning, stars all you could see as Harry rode you through your high. Between the water dripping from his hair, and your juices drenching his face, Harry thought he could drown. He’d die happily here, nestled between your legs, lips attached to your perfect pussy for eternity.

He pulled away after a moment, pressing a kiss to your sensitive clit before standing, pulling your weak body into his arms. “Always do so good for me, baby girl,” he cooed, pushing the wet strands of hair off of your forehead. He could get drunk off the way you looked post-orgasm, your cheeks flushed and pupils blown. The way your mouth never fully closed and your breasts jumped as your chest heaved. Harry got a kick out of knowing he did that to you, he bought you that pleasure.

His cock bumped against your hips as he helped you out the shower, your hands all over each other as you pushed him towards the granite countertop. “What’s bought this on?” Harry smirked, not used to seeing you take such an active role. It had been established pretty early on that Harry was a giver, all he wanted was to pleasure you, and you had no problems being a taker. But his cock had been calling out to you for days, begging you for a taste. “Where you going?” he asked you, head tilting to the side as your hands slithered down his body, your knees hitting the tiled floor. You stayed silent, pressing kisses up the inside of his thigh. You bit down into the fleshy part near the top, quickly licking over the teeth marks. Harry shuddered as you nipped at his skin, repeating the move up and down both his thighs. You suckled at the skin next to his base, leaving your mark. A perfect little purple bruise, a matching tattoo.

You looked up at him as he reached down to swipe his thumb over your bottom lip, his butterfly tattoo seemingly flapping its wings as he breathed in and out. “Gonna stuff daddy’s cock into that pretty little mouth?” he rasped, his thighs tensing as you hacked spit into your palms. You stroked his member up and down, up and down, again and again as you pressed swollen-mouthed kisses to his thick tip. Holding a hand at his base, you licked a line down the underside of his shaft, then took his tip in your mouth hungrily. He was far bigger than you’d ever had, and you were unsure of how well your usual tricks would work on someone his size.

He whimpered as you took him further in your mouth, your warm cheeks tightening against his length as you sucked. Your hand moved up and down the inches of him you couldn’t manage to take, swirling your heated tongue around his head as you pulled him further out. “Knew you could be a good little slut for daddy,” he drawled, gathering your dripping hair and using it to guide your head up and down his cock. He kept his free hand steadied on the countertop, mouth dropping open as you popped off of his head and moved your mouth to his balls. Harry threw his head back as you suckled at his sack, rolling your tongue against the soft, sensitive skin. Your hand continued tugging against his length as you worked, your nose bumping the underside of his foreskin. “Fuck baby, give me more, please,” he groaned, wrapping your long hair around his fist. You switched your hand and your mouth, fondling his balls while you stuffed his cock back into your mouth. You looked up at him through heavy-lidded eyes as you took his member further than you had before, reaching as far as you could before gagging against his head. His hand tugged at your hair somewhat involuntarily as your throat closed around him, a choked moan squeezing out against his tip. Your eyes were red, tears brewing above your lower lashes. “Taste so fucking good daddy,” you told him, mouth moving up and down faster now, humming in appreciation as his cock twitched in your throat.

Harry had never seen you look so sexy, not when you took his cock so well, not when you were coming on his tongue. Like this, stark naked on the bathroom floor, his cock lodged between your perfect swollen pout, this is what he wanted to remember. Have the image etched in his brain forever, see you like this every time he closed his eyes. His balls felt heavy in your hand, loaded with the cum he couldn’t wait to shoot down your pretty little throat. “Fuck, princess. I’m gonn- gonna come if you keep doing that,” he warned, his voice deep with lust. You moaned against him, keeping your lips wrapped tightly around his girthy member, your perfect H pendant swinging against your chest as you bobbed back and forth. You splayed your free hand against his thigh as it started to shake, looking up his body to see his abs tensing, his pecs twitching as you bought him close to climax. “Come for me daddy,” you whined against him, words muffled by his cock taking over your throat. He pulled his head down to his chest, eyes screwed tight and jaw slack as he came violently, thick cum splashing against the back of your throat. You swallowed around his head, ribbons of cum flooding your cheeks. You moved the hand cradling his sack to stroke his length, riding him through his orgasm. His hips jutted towards you, your hair wound tightly around his clenched fist.

His grip eased up as he came down from his high, darkened eyes opening to look down at you as you removed your mouth from him completely. You had his juices dripping out of your mouth, eyes threatening to spill over as you wiped them with the back of your hand. “Never seen anything so pretty in my whole life,” Harry smiled, rubbing the curve of your neck.

You dried yourselves off, fluffy towels soothing your aching, exhausted bodies. Crawling into bed still naked, you and Harry faced each other, whispering sweet nothings as you kissed over each others faces. He fell asleep before you, one arm draped across your chest, hand still cupping your jaw. Your phone lit up with a text from Joanie,

J: everything ok? you happy?

You snapped a selfie, Harry’s strong hand barely visible in the pitch black room. You sent it to her, captioned simply, the happiest

part five

taglist: @ameerakane20

you can join my taglist here 🫶🏼

#harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #harry edward styles #harry styles x fan #harry styles x y/n #harry styles series #harry styles masterlist #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fic

864 notes · View notes

kitsuga · 1 month ago

Text

Loading Screen. {Leviathan x Reader/MC}

Description:

A fic in which Levi tries to express his feelings but MC makes the move.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Tags: fluff, kissing, not beta'd, not edited, gender neutral reader, leviathan/levi x reader/mc, obey me!/obm/om, leviathan/levi

Word Count: 1,086

A/N: Written on: June 27, 2021

I just felt like writing this one day for my best of all friends and I have nothing else to say beyond that, really. Also, nervous levi agenda thank you

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

“Woo-hoo! Another series: done. Hurry up MC, I’m gonna start the next one!”

“I’m coming, I’m coming.” MC called, rushing over to plop onto the floor-bound makeshift blanket fort with an arm full of snacks to restock their supply. “Don’t hit play yet!”

“Too late! No time! Gotta play it now!”

“Levi!” They whined, pushing him over and rewinding the previous 10 seconds they missed just to prove a point while he laughed.

He bounced back up, pretending to have done it too hard and bumped into their side, causing them to fall over a bit as well. The two of them fought back and forth for a short while, laughing comfortably with each other until their new show’s opening ended—that was when they settled down. MC leaned their head against his shoulder, and Levi suddenly realized the position he was in and stiffened up; he started to get nervous and shy despite being in the same situation time and time again.

Once the show actually started, it was easy for him to get lost in it and forget the warmth of MC cuddling up beside him, wrapping their arms around his waist and mindlessly feeding him snacks as time went on. As the episode came to an end, however, the cursed black loading screen reminded him once more of his (epic!) predicament. MC nuzzled against him for a bit before sitting up, noticing his nerves plain as day on his face in the very same reflection.

“I think this one’s going to be good; what did you think about it?”

“The premise is good but the executions a little slow. If they had used proper elements of a magical girl anime instead of trying to fake it and make their own, it would hold more attention of the viewers but instead they made it seem more like an off-brand mecha and that--”

He continued on his rant relentlessly, MC wasn’t sure he ever took a breath within it. He spouted off a lot of explanations, most of which they picked up a few words from, but mostly just nodded in silence with a smile on their face. They looked content, happy to listen to him and pretty interested in what he had to say—whenever it was cohesive, at least. Their gentle smile is what caused Levi to pause and stare at them.

“You know,” he started, “I’m glad you’re here. I’m pretty happy that you’re willing to do this with me.” His face started to heat up, and his face contorted to a pained look as though he were battling with himself to get words out. “I mean, I have no one else to do this with. I’m just--”

“Aw, Levi,” they teased, a small smirk growing on their lips, “are you trying to compliment me?”

“No!” A lie. “Let me talk!”

MC threw their hands up in defense, nonchalantly twisting their lips to the side and eyes following suit as they pretended not to care. Levi took a deep breath before launching back into his speech.

“I’m just, glad that you like me—and that you like me enough to sit here and do all that gross couple stuff with me, and that you listen to me even if you’re a bit of a normie and don’t understand the golden depth of my reviews, and--” he quickly started to spiral into a nervous, embarrassed fit and fidgeted with his hands, “and you know I just, I... I lo- lov- I lo-”

The more Levi stuttered, the worse he felt. As his heart started to leap out of his throat, he could feel it breaking into pieces; this wasn’t how he wanted to do it. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. Now he looks like a complete fool—MC wouldn’t like him back after this! Even if they were already dating—they'd definitely want to leave after this, he certainly did. His eyes shot up from his hands to their own eyes as their hands covered his. Their smile was so gentle, he almost shattered into pieces under the sheer intense pressure he found himself under.

“Hey,” their teasing tone replaced with something he’d describe as angelic, “if you can’t say it out loud, go ahead and use this.”

It was only then that he realized they dropped his phone in his hands. They tilted their head and smiled even brighter, knowing just what would make him feel better. His hands shook as he typed out a text message to them at lightning speed, thumb now hovering over the send button; he closed his eyes shut tight as he hit send and groaned, throwing himself backwards and laying on the floor. He complained to MC that they insist on making his life difficult, when all he wanted to do was watch anime.

‘I love you. I wanted to say it without stuttering, or in some cool like, shojo-style way since it was the first time, but I ruined it.’

Levi was almost too afraid to look at his phone whenever it went off.

‘Sit up.’

Reluctantly, he did as he was told and had already opened his mouth to complain, apologize, deflect, anything he had to do to save face but instead of needing to save it, MC held it instead.

Gently, they cupped their hands around his face and leaned in slowly, only kissing the tip of his nose. The small kiss was so full of affection, Levi wondered if he was going to cry; his body relaxed a bit, his face melting into their hold as he looked at them through his lashes and a pout on his lips to offset the look of love in his eyes and blush on his face.

Words didn’t need to be said. He didn’t need to say it again, they didn’t need to say it to him. He didn’t need to ask them to kiss him again, they leaned in again and gave him a deep, loving kiss. When they pulled away, he stared at their lips until they leaned in again and again. His heart was racing and he felt as though he were on Cloud 9; he didn’t know what he did to deserve this, but he thanked whatever god may have had a hand in it.

The anime played through episode after episode, long forgotten in the background; their love reflected on the black background between them. He’d definitely be able to tell them the right way next time.

#obey me x reader #obey me x mc #obey me leviathan x reader #leviathan x reader #kitsu.writes #kitsu.om #kitsu.om levi #obey me leviathan #om leviathan #obm leviathan #obey me #obey me fanfic

113 notes · View notes

lavendergalactic · 1 month ago

Text

☆ 　lavet's 4k + 2k event !

both @llocket & i have hit big follower milestones and have been wanting to make an event so we've decided to make one together to celebrate the occasion!

info under cut

☆ 　rules / info !

this event will last from the 2ND OCTOBER - 10th OCTOBER there are only 4 days of prompts but it'll last more than 4 days just incase anyone needs extra time, you can join late too! we don't mind

please @ me and @llocket & also tag #lavet event so we can see your submissions!! and also do not be shy to @ us again if you think we didn't see it, we might accidently miss it!

all types of edits will be accepted! graphics, layouts, moodboards / stimboards, psds, etc as long as you're creative! go wild

☆ 　prompts !

just like our previous events, you'll have two options per day! (you can do both if it fits, or if you just want to)

day 1﹕remake one of your old edits OR ﹕ an edit based off your most looped song

day 2﹕an edit based off the character you're using as your layout OR ﹕ a character that reminds you of your friend

day 3﹕use the colour scheme from your favourite media's logo to make an edit OR ﹕ an edit of your childhood fictional crush

day 4﹕an edit of a character from media you recently seen OR ﹕ a character that would love your music taste

☆ 　prizes !

if you complete all days you will be entered into a raffle! when the event ends we will pull randomly for 3 winners

since both me and locket will be making the prizes together, there'll be quite a few prizes to win!

✧ 　FIRST PLACE:

2 graphic sets, IMVU badges / shiny buttons (up to 5), 1 layout, icon set

✧ 　SECOND PLACE:

IMVU badges / shiny buttons (up to 3), 1 graphic set, icon set

✧ 　THIRD PLACE:

IMVU badges / shiny buttons (up to 2), 1 graphic set

☆ 　tags / may i get a promo?

let me know (in dms or ask) if you want to be removed

@moonstar-edits ⠀ @lovesick-level-up ⠀ @gwosted ⠀ @necroangelz

@puppetfaced ⠀ @ethereabun ⠀ @peachisodaz ⠀ @gotta-edit-fast

@necromanticzz ⠀ @morriganorisis ⠀ @frilliette ⠀ @ipcventurine

@ddenryu ⠀ @angelesse ⠀ @ryxiepawzies ⠀ @villyth

@lenqkeju ⠀ @invader-mothisback ⠀ @fuwadoll ⠀ @nikkori-kori-kori-kori-koriandaa

@dollrelicz ⠀ @d3ardesiree ⠀ @betafigure ⠀ @sicklyiinlove

#☆ ◟ event !#lavet event #my event #editing event

101 notes · View notes

eddiernunson · 1 year ago

Text

Really Drives Me Mad | Older!Eddie x Reader | 18+

Previous Part | Master List | Next Part

Big thank you to @forget-you-morelike-fuck-you for editing, you really are the best!

Thank you to @bebe07011 for all your encouragement

Thank you to @names-were-taken ... you know what you did.

Word Count: 10.3k

Warnings: road head, breeding kink, daddy!kink, family awkwardness

Authors note: Guys I appreciate all your patience, truly I do. I was so damn busy these last two months, and I barely had the time or the motivation to write. It's more of a filler chapter, we get some good stuff next one. I'm still quite busy, but I got a fire in me to continue this story. Don't worry, I plan on continuing to the end. There's about two or three more chapters planned. As they say: life happens when you're busy making plans.

You sit on the couch cross legged, watching a movie under a big blanket with Eddie right next to you. He’s relaxed in the corner, arm sitting on the back cushion as he half pays attention to the movie. You’re telling him about work, some drama between two co-workers that has the entire workplace turned on its head.

Eddie wipes his hands of the butter from his popcorn, finishing a handful before he speaks. “Oh, yeah, one of my apprentices just quit, so I’m interviewing a few guys next week.”

For some reason, it doesn’t occur to you that because Eddie owns the shop, he’s also their boss, and therefore, has to hire and interview people. “Cool.”

Something in your tone forces Eddie’s head to tilt towards you. You see this out of the corner of your eye and break into a wide smile, giggling. “What’s…what’s this about?”

“It’s nothing.” You insist, way too fast for it to not be nothing.

“Ok, now you’ve gotta tell me.” Eddie insists, turning his entire body to face you.

“You’re gonna think it’s dumb.”

“What?” Eddie yelps out in surprise. “Of course I won’t think it’s dumb!”

“Promise you won’t laugh?” You pout.

Eddie sighs, you’re just hopelessly adorable to him. And he’s hopelessly in love. So of course, he says “I promise, I won’t laugh.”

“I just didn’t really think about you owning the shop, meaning that you’re their boss, and you have to do interviews.” You admit, aware of his brown eyes on you. “I never imagined you on the other side of a desk. But…” you stutter, clenching your thighs. “…then I did.” You laugh, embarrassed. “Then I became aware of how fast it took for me to picture it and I smiled.”

It’s a lot for Eddie to process at once. “Wait, so you thought of all of that in those two seconds?” Eddie asks, as an eyebrow rises in astonishment.

You nod, continuing to munch on your popcorn. “Yeah…”

“…So what did you think of me behind that desk?” He asks, biting his lip as his voice gets real low. One part of him wants to rile you up, but the other is genuinely curious.

You giggle, watching through half lidded eyes as his lips lean in to kiss you. Your tongues meet sweetly, his darkened stare making you feel drunk on love. “I—” The feeling of your phone buzzing underneath your thigh interrupts you, Eddie sighing as he reluctantly pulls back. “Wait!” you whine.

He chuckles. “Answer your phone. I promise, I’ll be just as curious after.”

Somehow it hasn’t gone to voicemail, yet. Your hand fishes it out from under your leg, the word Mom and her picture illuminating the screen. Fuck. You wince, wishing for three minutes ago when you were breathing in Eddie’s intoxicating scent. Your thumb hesitantly presses the answer button, “Hi, mom.”

“Oh, well you do answer!” There’s a sass in her voice right out the gate, and you instinctively cringe, understanding the type of phone call you’re about to have with her.

“I do work, mom. You happen to keep calling when I’m at work. Then, when I do call you back, you never answer!” You answer, watching Eddie’s brows furrow. It’s the first he’s hearing about this round about game you have with your mom when it comes to phone calls and you’ve never brought it up because the topic alone causes an abundance of stress for you. “Please tell me why you called, or was it to just yell at me?”

“Oh I’m not yelling.” She dismisses you, not unusual for her, yet you still roll your eyes and grit your teeth in frustration. “I would, however, like to meet your boyfriend…looks like you two are getting serious…your aunts have found your page.”

“So they’ve seen…what? His ankle tattoo?” You ask, referring to the photo where Eddie is just stepping out of frame on purpose. Nothing about your Instagram account is a mistake for the moment, if anything just to spite his ex.

“The walk-in closet.” Your mom answers, and you gotta admit, that arch of a full body mirror in his (your) walk-in has become your favorite place to take a photo for the moment. “Even if I don’t approve, I just want to meet him. Bring him to supper. He can bring some family, if he wants. The more, the merrier!”

This sounds like your own personal version of hell. Judgemental aunties, drunk uncles, annoying cousins, and your mom all with Eddie? Throw him to the wolves, why don’t you? “Mom, why don’t we hold off your sisters for now? Let’s just introduce him to our family, and he can introduce you to his.” You suggest alternatively, barely holding in a laugh as Eddie’s shoulders relax, unashamedly eavesdropping on your conversation, not that you mind.

“You know, they’re not patient women.”

You laugh, nodding your head in full agreement. “Yeah, I know. Neither are you, and neither am I, neither is Viti. Runs in your family.” You roll your eyes.

Eddie nods in agreement, thinking of the initiative you took when he first met you and laughing silently to himself. Then his nose scrunches. Who’s Viti?

You turn to face Eddie as you talk on the phone, trying to make out what he’s mouthing to you. “Just send me a date and a time and I’ll try to get them over there.” What? You mouth back to him.

“Who’s Viti?” He whispers, still confused.

Wait, who’s Viti? You stare at him blankly, holding up a finger to finish the conversation with your mom as she responds. “Uh, I’m working Friday, and Eddie’s working Saturday…is middle of the week undoable?”

You hold the receiver, getting an answer that starts with “Well” is always going to be long-winded before getting to the point with your mom. “Viti is my little sister!” You whisper to Eddie. Upon seeing the genuine look of surprise you can tell he never knew about her.

You put the phone back to your ear, catching the end of “I suppose we could do Wednesday…”

You cover the phone receiver. “Can you get Steve in the state on Wednesday?” Eddie nods wordlessly, no doubt in his mind. “Wednesday works!” You cover the receiver again and remove the phone from your ear as she finishes with a long-winded goodbye. “How did you not know I had a sister?”

Eddie shrugs, also wondering. “Never came up, I guess?”

You consider this answer, recalling any acceptable times to bring it up. “That’s true, I suppose.” You put the phone back to your ear, “So, I’ll see you next Wednesday?”

“See you then! 7pm, don’t be late!”

You hang up your phone, falling backwards on the couch in frustration. “Ugh!”

“Would it be ludicrous to say that that did not kill my boner at all?” Eddie asks, slightly surprised himself.

You laugh, shaking your head as he makes his way back to where you sit on the couch. “Still wanna hear about it?”

He lays you down, nodding as he leans in for a kiss. “Tell me everything, baby.”

It’s Wednesday, unfortunately, and you make your way over to your parents’ house, a twenty minute drive down the highway. Yesterday it became evident how nervous Eddie is, dancing around the subject and being more lovey with you than usual, as if that were even possible. Now, he sits with his shoulders locked and face staring dead ahead as he gulps through his nerves. “Baby, are you okay?” You hesitate to ask, but can’t help it.

“Oh, just terrified.” Eddie admits, knowing just how much rides on this one supper. “Something just occurred to me…how…how old is your dad?”

“Oh…” you shift in the passenger seat into a more comfortable position. “I think he’s 53 or 54. I don’t remember which one he turns this year.”

“Oh, thank god.” Eddie sighs, relieved, closing his eyes momentarily. “If your dad was younger I could only fucking imagine…what a shit show that would’ve been.”

“My mom is the same age as you, now that I think about it.” You say, wondering how that was a detail that hadn’t occurred to you before. “She graduated in 94’, which, correct me if I’m wrong, is the year you would’ve, too.”

“Well, shit.” Eddie mutters. He hasn’t done a meet the parents dinner where he was the one meeting the parent in fucking forever. So long ago, in fact, it was borderline humorous.

For some reason, Eddie seemed to look extra scrumptious, dressed to impress and smelling fantastic. Even as he looks nervous, he looks ten times better than any confident man. “You know what would help you feel better?” You ask, placing a hand on his knee.

You think you might have to be more upfront about it, but just from your tone alone Eddie is tenting his pants. “What’s that sweetheart?” He asks anyway, playing dumb, wanting to hear you say it.

“If I sucked you off on the way?”

Eddie huffs his lips out, pretending to consider it. Honestly, he can’t even pretend. He breaks into a chuckle. “Put those pretty lips on my cock.”

You smile in satisfaction as you immediately move to unzip Eddie’s nice slacks and slip his cock out. “You’re already hard” You accuse him playfully. It’s such a damn compliment to you.

You’re in a lusted-out haze as you bend over to take him in your mouth, your shoulder awkwardly colliding with the steering wheel. The possibility of anyone passing in a car big enough to see you in Eddie’s clear windowed vehicle was too much of a turn on for you not to dissect it eventually. His cock reaches your throat, the sounds of you gagging on him repeatedly and your muscles twitching around him make him want to tilt his head back and close his eyes.

“Oh she’s just letting herself be fucked in the throat where anyone can see, huh?” Eddie mutters, his free hand moving through your hair. “Showing everyone how good of a slut you are.”

The words certainly help your ambition, and you start to bob up and down on him, sucking the life out of him with your wet slurps.

“Everyone gets a view but no one gets to know but me.” One of your hands start to play with his balls, moving them around as you lick and slobber all over him before pulling back, taking a breath break. Eddie lifts eyes up momentarily, smirking. “Oh you just gave that semi trucker a fucking hard on, baby I hope you know that.”

You glance sideways, your hand still wrapped on Eddie's cock, seeing the tail end of a white semi truck. You smile up at him and continue, the thought of some random dude being jealous of Eddie because of you was cool. You were only the cool girlfriend who likes to give road head because he’s a good boyfriend, anyhow. You hope he knows that.

“That turn you on?” You shake your head, the nuance too much to discuss while his cock still sits in your mouth. “Does him seeing it turn you on?” You smirk at him, taking a breath as your hand moves up and down his length. Now, for the big guns. You accept him to the back of your throat easily, the deep throating becoming one of your favorite past times with him. “Oh I’m gonna—"

You swallow every last drop that he has to offer when he spills into your mouth, almost too much as some dribbles down your chin. No, not too much. Never too much. You collect the dribble and put it in your mouth, licking your fingers clean. You hum in contentment over the salty taste, sitting back in your seat.

“Jesus christ.” Eddie mutters, still gripping the steering wheel with an iron fist. “That certainly made me feel a lot better.”

In hindsight, Eddie was right to feel anxious for it, just not for the reasons anybody could ever reasonably guess.

When you get there with five minutes to spare, Dylan and Steve are already in your parent’s driveway, both bearing smiles on their faces as they laugh about something.

Eddie finally finishes buckling himself up once the truck pulls up and you get out right away to distract (and to hug, of course), thanking Steve for making it on such short notice. Out of view, Steve’s SUV passenger door slams shut. “Dad, do you think her parents are as stuffy as she says they are or—” Arlo Harrington stops the moment he notices you’re there.

Eddie was hesitant to extend the offer to Arlo, but after he asked you with the disclaimer that Arlo is his god child and he considers family…it was hard to refuse. While you knew Arlo was going to be there, you just didn’t expect him to be a carbon copy of the version of Steve you saw in the photo on Eddie’s facebook.

Whatever genes are in those Harringtons, those curls run deep, every one of his kids had them from the photos. “Hi, Arlo. Nice to meet you.” You hold out a hand, diffusing the tension.

“Thanks for letting me tag along.” He pulls you in once he grabs your hand to shake it, muttering, “Couldn’t resist a show.”

You pull back, seeing a younger Steve in him. “Damn. This is your kid alright.” You confirm to Steve, letting go of Arlo’s hand.

Steve laughs, rolling his eyes. “Yeah, that’s my son.”

Eddie jogs up behind you, wrapping his arm around your shoulder as he carries a bottle of white wine. “Look who finally showed up.” Steve announces, wondering if he’s picturing the flush in Eddie’s face.

“Sorry, I needed a minute to gather my courage. We’re 3 minutes past 7, let’s go.” He mutters to you, causing you to roll your eyes.

“God, I’m not going to hear the end of those three minutes, she’ll hold them against me next time she needs something, I just fucking know it.”

Eddie chuckles as he holds your hand and you walk the stone path up to your front porch. Three knocks land on the door and you hear the small dogs barking and your mom brushing them away from the door. Your mom opens the door with your dad and your jaw hurts from the painful smile on your face as you watch the color in your mom’s face drain. “Mom…?” You ask, waiting for her to say something. “Hello?”

“Oh…sorry.” Your mom gulps, shaking her head. “Of course, come on in, everyone. There’s food on the table for snacks and supper is almost ready.”

Your parents’ tiny dogs yap and jump at you as you take your jacket off, watching as Eddie looks around your childhood home. “Quaint.” Eddie comments, noticing the frames on the wall and the little seasonal décor accents.

“Fuck off.” You tell him, a little self conscious.

“Good quaint.”

“You boys wanna watch the game?” Your dad asks, offering seemingly to anyone but Eddie. “Come on, let’s go sit.” He leans into Eddie as he turns to the living room, muttering, “My wife has got a bucket of questions, so don’t be scared by her inviting you to the kitchen.”

“Dave?” Your mom asks, still not having said much since you got there, which, frankly, is unlike her. “Can you meet me in the kitchen?”

Your dad’s eyes widen, the irony of his last statement not lost on him. “Shut up.” He tells you, his eyes kind behind his round glasses. A grin creeps up your face and you hug him tightly, wishing him luck as he opens the door into the kitchen.

For the next five minutes, nothing suspicious seems to happen in the kitchen. Steve asks if there are any bottle openers for the beer as you sit next to Eddie on the couch, a dog landing on your lap as you direct him to said kitchen. Nothing too awful seemed to be happening, anyway.

Steve sighs as he just gets comfortable. Even with Eliza gone he can’t get fucking comfy. He trudges on to the door of the kitchen when he overhears the reason your parents were quietly bickering.

“—and Eddie fucking Munson!”

“Are you sure it’s the same men? Maybe they just look the same.”

Your mom hesitates, “I know Steve the Hair Harrington, Dave.”

“Yeah, I know you know him.” Your dad answers, Steve picks up on the bitterness in his voice.

You and Eddie are approaching the kitchen now, both going to grab a drink from the fridge when Steve stops you. “Listen.” He whispers.

“I don’t know how, but my daughter is shacked up with Eddie the Freak Munson!”

“And your high school crush is here as family…” Your dad adds, sounding tired.

High school whatnow?

“Oh, I could barely say two words to him! I went into Family Video once and ended up not getting anything because I was too flustered!”

“I’ve heard this story before, Cheryl, why exactly are you still flustered now?”

“Oh, don’t condescend me, don’t act like if Penny Rogers showed up at our doorstep you wouldn’t be tripping over yourself.”

“Penny has nothing to do with this!”

Once it starts getting heated, you look up at the two men and leave the door quietly to give them some time and hash it out. “Was that what I thought it was?” You ask Steve, afraid of a yes.

Steve nods, his eyes wide. “I think so.”

“Do you remember her?”

Steve shakes his head solemnly. “Sorry, can’t say that I do.”

Your little sister, Viti makes her way down the stairs, passing you without a second thought to the two men she has never met. “Hi, sis.” She greets, about to head into the kitchen.

“I wouldn’t go in there!” You warn her. Viti observes you, looking next to you as the two men shake their heads in tandem.

“What, they fighting? Not unusual, nowadays, sis.” She answers, walking into the kitchen brazenly.

Eddie can’t resist. He really should. With you right there, he knew he’d get hit. He texts it to Steve, instead. Might not have missed your shot.

Steve pushes Eddie over, rolling his eyes. “You’re terrible!” Steve snaps, wishing the world would envelope him whole.

You hear your parents shooing Viti out and she returns, eyes wide and her pretty braids moving in tandem as she shakes her head. “Nope. I was wrong. They’re way worse. Whatever has them fighting has dad’s neck vein popping out, yeesh. Let’s go wait it out, it’s what I do, anyhow.”

Viti plays host and you sit by Eddie, listening to the boys talk about the game. You’re not particularly interested in stats and players but it’s fun cheering for the other team. Eventually you notice your sister has stopped talking altogether. She’s not even watching the tv screen.

You follow her line of sight to Arlo, and the irony of the situation hits you tenfold. “Nope. I can’t. I can’t.” You go upstairs to your told high school bedroom, Eddie following you inquisitively.

“Hey, what happened?” He asks, following you into the room that’s stuck in 2014.

“I noticed my sister paying a little too much attention to Arlo. That’s a little too fucking weird for me.”

Eddie chuckles, sitting with you on your bed. “We’ll get through this, don’t worry. Steve won’t even mention he doesn’t remember her.”

“He’d better not” You grumble, leaning onto his shoulder.

Eddie now observes his surroundings and how it’s so clearly a teenager’s bedroom. Your bedroom from high school. He adjusts as his hard on comes unexpectedly, yet fast. Something about the suggested innocence… Eddie shakes his head, kicking himself out of it. Your mom calls your name and you sigh, getting up from the teal bedspread. “C’mon. Let’s go face this shit show.”

Your mom has seemed to calm herself down, directing everyone to the extended dining table when it comes time. Your sister, 21 and in college, eagerly asks for the chair across from Arlo. By now, he’s caught on and he’s playing nice, much to Dylan’s teasing. However, neither of them have any idea how truly humorous it is.

“Sorry for the delay on supper.” Your mom says as you all sit down. “Some malfunctions with the food, all cleared up.”

Conversations carry on like normal, Eddie getting the interrogation treatment from your mom. Dylan feels defensive of his father’s honor but bites his tongue. She even asks Dylan if it was weird for him. “It’s my new normal.” Dylan answers easily, taking a basket of buns from Arlo next to him.

All conversations go politely, Eddie seemingly passing with flying colors. (Truth is, her mind was already made up before this dinner, and with her distraction, what Eddie said really doesn’t make a difference.) As the channels open up from getting to know Eddie and how he takes care of you and other points, your mom brazenly passes in favor of wanting to get it out there. “Uh, so I don’t know if you are aware, but I went to highschool with you two.”

Arlo, Dylan, and Viti are all thrown, of course. You, Steve, and Eddie all do your best to be surprised, Steve a much subtler actor than Eddie, but the smirk on his face is a dead giveaway. Eddie’s just dramatic.

“No shit, eh? Were we in any classes together?” Steve asks, making conversation.

“Yeah…chemistry and geometry. It was kind of hard to miss The King.” Dylan and Arlo pick up on it simultaneously, both sets of eyes jerking around in disbelief. Was this really happening?

You saw the kick in Steve’s confidence as he was called The King. You lean into Eddie. “The king of what?”

“You don’t wanna know.” Eddie lets you know, shaking his head.

“Don’t blame ya, I was loud.”

“I think I was louder, to be frank.” Eddie says, chuckling about his dramatic flair in the cafeteria.

“Oh my god, I remember that.” Your mom looks up, you envy, wanting to see young Eddie, too. From what you’ve seen of him, if you knew Eddie back then you couldn’t have been held responsible for pinning him down in a high school cafeteria. “The cheerleaders called basketball balls into laundry baskets because it pissed them off so much.”

Eddie chuckles, amused by this. “Cool.”

“I used to go to Steve’s ragers all the time.”

“Ragers? I’m sorry, this old man, father of four, dad joke extraordinaire, was a Rager Party thrower?”

Eddie nods, solemnly. “There’s a reason we didn’t get along. He was a douche.”

“Okay, I don’t think I was that bad.”

“Dad, when I was 17, you said you were glad you didn’t have a daughter because you were a raging dick in highschool. Actual quote.” Arlo speaks up, watching this shit show go down.

“If she was a cheerleader that answers why I don’t recognize her.” Eddie mutters to you, pretending to lean forward to speak low.

“Oh, fuck, yeah! You were Chrissy Cunningham’s friend, right?” Steve answers, tapping his brain.

“Yes! I was!” The relief that radiates off your mom after Steve remembers her is a little uncomfortable.

Steve makes eye contact and mouths the word No to Eddie, signaling he still doesn’t remember her, but if they were on the cheer squad, they definitely knew Chrissy.

An hour later, you’re washing dishes as Eddie comes up from behind you. He’s nervous as ever, for reasons he shall not share, but has something to do with the ring in his back pocket and a question for your parents.

“Hi, baby.” He mutters, thumbs slowly caressing the exposed skin on your hips. “Your mom asked to talk to me…should I be worried?”

“I wanna say no, but I don’t wanna give you false hope.” A sharp pain on your shoulder as he bites it causes you to jump, hitting your hips against his harshly. “I’m just being honest!”

Eddie chuckles softly, kissing where he bit you while rubbing your shoulder softly. You hum into him, your head leaning over in content. “Wish me luck, my love.”

As Eddie turns the corner towards the dining room he hears you mutter, “You’ll need it.” He rolls his eyes at you fondly, mentally reminding himself to get you back for that.

Truth be told, Eddie told a small fib. Your mom had gotten all her questions out during the dinner. Eddie was the one who had requested to talk to her and your father. The ring in his pocket has burned a hole in his back pocket all night, and he could finally get to the reason he was so eager to join your family for dinner.

If he was gonna propose, he’d at least do it right. (To be honest, if your parents don’t approve he’s gonna do it anyway, at least he’ll have made the attempt.)

Your parents are already ready and waiting, in the middle of an unimportant conversation. It dies as soon as he crosses the threshold to the dining room, the air in the room suddenly coarse. Has it really been nearly 30 years since he had to talk to a girlfriend’s parents? “Hi, thanks for agreeing to meet with me.”

“Sure, Eddie.” Your mom politely responds, her voice clearly uncomfortable despite her good manners.

“We were just curious as to why you asked us to have a conversation, is all.” Your dad admits, much more nicely, but still hesitant.

Not that Eddie blames them. If Dylan one day came to him with a much younger girlfriend he’d probably have some concerns, as well.

“I’m sure you are. Uh, to be honest, I was rather eager for a meet-the-family dinner…I have a question for you.” Eddie admits, rubbing his back pocket self consciously. “Listen…I love your daughter very deeply.”

He pauses and assesses their reaction, sitting as he twiddles his thumbs.

“We appreciate the sentiment. I can tell you really care about her.” Your dad admits, a soft smile on his face. He already feels a sense of affection for Eddie, despite only being a handful of years older than him. Anyone paying attention can see that your relationship was by no means superficial.

“However, you’ll have to forgive us if we’re a bit hesitant. Our daughter dating a man that’s literally old enough to be her father is a tad concerning for us.”

Eddie bites his lip, doing his best to stop himself from being defensive. It was his best intention to be on their good side. Flaring up seems like a bad idea.

“Totally understand where you guys are coming from.” He says, his hands anxiously rubbing against his jeans. “As I said, I love her. She’s the best person for me, and I don’t think I’ve ever been happier with anyone. I’m so happy… And considering I’m not getting any younger, I can’t wait any longer. I’m hoping you’ll give me your blessing to ask her to marry me.”

Any hope for a blessing dies as soon as your mom opens her mouth. For the record, it starts in abrupt laughter. “Yeah, no, that’s not going to happen.”

Eddie is unable to hold back the look of astonishment that lands on his face. He wasn’t expecting a blessing, but laughter certainly isn’t what he thought would happen. “Uh, care to explain the laughter?”

“Cheryl, while I was also going to refuse his blessing, laughing was a tad unnecessary.”

“Oh, Dave. If you knew Eddie Munson in highschool you would understand. It has nothing to do with the age difference and everything to do with the kid who made dramatic speeches on anarchy.” She laughs, placing one side of her hair behind her ear.

Eddie is stunned by her answer. How the hell was she still thinking like a high school cheerleader this many years later? “I…I have matured quite a bit since highschool.” Seems like you haven’t, bitch.

“While I’m sure you think that’s true, I just can’t see past the screw up. When she gets over how Attractive she finds you, she’ll find her way again.” She says absentmindedly, and even Dave seems to be astounded at her sheer audacity.

He chuckles deeply, arms crossed as he realizes he’s not going to win her over any time soon. An aura of confidence bursts through him, and it's almost refreshing to not be concerned with her opinion of him. “Okay. Got it. Your message is clear.” Eddie laughs.

“Good.” She stops and looks to her husband and says something clearly Eddie wasn’t supposed to hear. “Almost brought up the two years of highschool he repeated.”

That hit Eddie hard. She just went to a place that when Brooke shoved in his face he finally realized how shitty of a person she is. It hit a place that grabbed his heart and squeezed it harshly. “Okay, that’s too far. Don’t make me say it.” Eddie warns, jaw set hard.

She laughs. “Oops. Sorry. Didn’t mean for you to hear that. You gotta admit, it’s true.”

“Seriously. Don’t make me say it.”

She rolls her eyes in a way he hasn’t seen since a bratty girlfriend Dylan had about ten years ago. “Say what, drug dealer?”

“Cheryl!”

“No, I warned her.” Eddie answers, unbothered at this point. If he has to marry you without your mom there, so be it. “Steve doesn’t remember you. Not the faintest idea who you are.” Eddie takes pride in her crestfallen face. “I respect your lack of blessing, but I’m gonna ask her, anyway. Then, when we get married and you’re not invited, don’t be surprised, Cheryl.”

Without another word, he walks into the living room where everyone is sitting watching a football game, including you. He comes in wearing a smirk, you almost fear the look on his face.

“C’mon, time to go home.” He holds his hand out, a tone in his voice informing you that you have no choice in the matter.

“Is…is everything okay?” you ask hesitantly, getting up from where Steve sits with his legs on your lap.

“If you consider your mom being stuck in high school good, then sure.” Eddie tells you, holding your hand. “Besides I think she’s about to get—”

Eddie is interrupted by your mom marching into the living room. “Alright, get out, family supper over.”

With that, you, Eddie, Dylan, Steve, and Arlo are out the door within the minute.

“Jeesh, what happened?” Steve asks, partially looking accusingly at Eddie.

“She insulted me a bunch, so I told her you had no idea who she is.”

Your hand slaps over your mouth, sharing a stunned look with Dylan and Arlo.

“She insulted you?” You ask, anger swirling in your stomach as you turn on your heel. “I’ll be right back, baby.”

“Wait—!” Eddie can’t even finish his thought; you’ve already started your walk back into your house to give her a piece of your mind.

Your mom starts flying off the handle the minute the front door slams. “I thought I told you to leave my house!”

The look on her face tells you she’s only attempting to be intimidating with her stern expression, but all you can do is laugh at the absurdity of it. “That was before you decided to go and insult the shit out of my boyfriend.”

“Excuse me?”

“Oh, you’re excused. Frankly, it’s embarrassing that I have to defend him from you because of whatever notion of him you’ve kept all these years. It’s also embarrassing for you to act like some moon eyed teenage girl with a crush when your husband of 30 years is literally right there!”

Your mom’s expression flares up defensively. “If you had heard what he said—”

“You realize how patient that man is right?”

She blinks confusedly. “Pardon?”

A huff of laughter escapes you before you continue. “Do you know how patient he is? Because for him to fire a shot back at you that severely means he must’ve endured far too much verbal assault before finally saying something to you. Which means you spent the better part of ten minutes insulting him for whatever reason until he snapped!” You look to your father who had come to witness the whole debacle. ”Am I correct in assuming that?”

He just nods solemnly, arms crossed as he looks on with furrowed eyebrows.

“Thought so. So here’s what’s gonna happen. Next time, you will not insult the man who has been nothing but nice to you and actually gave you no reason to hold a grudge this late in life other than being slightly alternative. If something like this happens again, I will not hesitate to cut contact with you.” A flick of worry crosses his face. “Oh, don’t worry, dad. I only mean her.” You allow your words to sink into her skin. “Am I making myself clear?” You don’t even wait for her response as her mouth gapes. “Good. Because I will be damned if I allow anyone, especially my mother, to mock the man I love. See you next time, where I expect you to act like my mom, and not this insecure and needy cheerleader I see before me.”

The silence is loud as you leave the front hallway entrance and slam the door shut behind you. The sight of Arlo, Steve, and Eddie standing near their vehicles greets you, their eyes synchronously moving to you as the sound of the door slam echoes in the neighborhood.

Eddie jogs over to you, his face concerned. “What was that about?” He asks, observing your mood.

“Yeah, like I’m ever gonna sit idly and watch when someone insults you. That’s unacceptable, I don’t care who it is.” You tell him, your mouth in a stern line, without a hint of humor in your voice.

“I—what?” He asks, his voice soft, his pupils jerkily assessing your face.

“I’m sorry you had to deal with that, that’s so unfair of her.”

“No, baby, I don’t care about that.” He dismisses it, the last thing on this mind. “Did you just stand up for me? To your own family?”

Suddenly the mist in his eyes becomes much clearer. “Of course! I can’t stomach that crap.”

A small “umph” leaves our throat as he tugs you into his chest with more force than you think he intended to. “I love you so fucking much.”

A sense of pride takes over you, smiling into his chest.

“So, we have a long drive back to Hawkins, so we’re gonna get going.” Steve mentions, suddenly realizing the two of you probably won’t be in the mood for any company tonight.

Eddie lifts his head to respond, you curl into his chest as one of his hands drop. “Of course, dude. If I’d known…”

“I don’t think any of us could’ve predicted that.” Steve laughs, letting the two of you off the hook.

“Oh shit,” Arlo stops himself from getting into his passenger side door. “You know your baby sister gave me her number, right?” He asks you, holding out a little folded piece of paper.

You wince in embarrassment. “Oh god. Don’t feel obligated. She’s just a girl with a crush.”

Arlo shrugs, not making a big deal out of it. “No, I know. Just making you aware.”

You watch him carefully. “…Hey Arlo?”

“Yep?”

“Why are you putting her number back in your wallet?”

He hesitates. “No reason...”

“Arlo?” You ask, your voice raising.

“What? No harm no foul.” He shrugs, putting the wallet back into his pants pocket.

You roll your eyes, shifting your attention to Steve. “Keep an eye on him?”

“I make no promises.” Steve laughs, holding his hands up in surrender.

“You laugh now, Steve, but just wait until Eliza is giving her numbers to men like Arlo.”

Steve stops laughing.

“That’s what I thought.”

Dylan can’t help himself from chiming in the thought that’s been eating at his brain. “Hey look at it this way.” He says, swinging an arm around your shoulder. “If they get married, your sister will have succeeded where your mom failed to.”

“Oh? And what’s that?” You ask, arms crossed with a skeptical smirk on your face.

“Becoming a Harrington.”

The bass beat echoes through the house as you dance around, mop in tow as you perform for no one. The Twilight soundtrack plays, specifically Super Massive Black Hole as your hips swing playfully, mopping the living room. Eddie is at work for the day until later in the evening, a rarity, but you plan on surprising him by earning your keep as a freeloader. As you continue to work 40 hours a week, the only thing you have to pay is your phone bill and car insurance, but you feel bad as Eddie continues to pay for everything else.

So, to make up for it, you’ve decided to clean his already clean house and do some laundry for him. Once the last of the living room has been mopped, you put it aside and return to the laundry room to switch the loads over. As everything is moved over, you lift the basket of hot clothes onto your hip like some sort of busy mom and make your way upstairs to the closet to put it away.

At the top of the stairs, you swear softly as you trip over a box Dylan has laid outside his bedroom door. He’s packing to leave, slowly moving his boxes over to his new place one trip at a time. Eddie had offered the same thing he had granted you: a moving truck with men to move it for him, but Dylan outright refused it. You know why, Dylan is a stubborn person, something you realize he got more from her than from Eddie. If Eddie acts stubborn, it’s usually for something he believes very strongly. Dylan is just plain ol’ stubborn.

You lightly kick at the box and walk through your room into your closet. The closet has certainly gotten messier since you moved in, most of the clothes are strung about when you’re done with them at the end of the day…much to Eddie’s dismay. One thing Eddie has learned about you after he moved you in was that you are not an organized person. His constant picking up behind you makes you smile, staring at him dead in the eye as you place the plate in the sink instead of the dishwasher. To Eddie, it’s like you want to watch the world burn.

Based on the look he gave you, you might be facing some repercussions for it, later.

Today is an attempt to make up for it, finally having the time to place your sweaters on the hangers and putting the pants back in their drawers. Eddie has a system, and you have to admit, it works. Your fingers brush the cooled off fabric as you fold each item, placing them in each perspective pile before starting to put them away. You hadn’t even realized the sheer volume of clothes you had put in the load. The detergent only vaguely smells like him, missing his essence, shampoo, and his cologne to top it all off. Still, the smell of it as you take a big inhale is intensely comforting.

Each pile is designated, so you move through them one at a time, the music blaring from the living room still used as a soundtrack. Pants, in the drawers. Shirts, hung up by type. Pajamas, put into a drawer. Your last pile is Eddie’s boxers, you fold them delicately by style and open the drawer to place them in, when a peak in the bottom of the already neat pile grabs your attention. Eddie is notorious for keeping piles meticulously organized so you grab the pile to start over when a soft thud hits the carpeted floor, grabbing your attention.

The object rolls out of sight, so you peer around the center console and the breath gets sucked out of your lungs when you see it. A small black velvet box sits upside down next to the white console, acting like it didn’t just bring tears to your eyes upon the very indication of what could be inside.

You pick the box up, Eddie’s underwear forgotten. You turn it over in your hands, thumb smoothing over the velvet as you contemplate opening it. Your hand itches for it, moving to open and backing out as soon as the seal is broken. Your teeth are grinding so hard as you place it on top of the center console and move to put Eddie’s underwear away, distracting yourself from doing something crazy.

The drawer closes, nothing else to do. The kitchen is done, living room is done, Dylan isn’t around for you to bother him and distract yourself. Mentally, you make a list of things you could be doing instead as you pace around the closet, the little box growing a big presence in the closed-in space. Your phone in your back pocket buzzes, you take it out, grateful for a distraction.

Shit, just someone you’ve spoken to once adding to their story. Your phone goes back into the pocket, and you stare at the box. It’s too tempting. It’s like Eddie staring at you with his dark brown eyes when he’s seducing you. How could you not give in to something when it tempts you so?

“Shit.” You whisper, walking slowly towards it. Finally, you let yourself open it, and your eyes well up as you see its silver and intricate design. It’s just what you envisioned for an engagement ring to be; you couldn’t have picked out a better ring even if you’d tried. How the hell did he find this? How did he know? Your hands are moving before you can even register. The music is still loud downstairs, but it’s muffled to you as your heartbeat takes over. The ring slides easily onto your left ring finger, and it fits perfectly. A tear falls down your cheek, an involuntary smile takes over your face.

Fuck, he does want to be with you forever, enough to go and get a ring. Your hands shakily move to remove it and it feels like torture as the ring lingers on the ridges of your fingerprint. Words can’t convey how hard it is to take it off. Who knows how long Eddie’s going to wait to propose? You don’t want to wait another day, let alone months. The idea of knowing but never knowing when he’s going to do it somehow feels worse than not knowing he has a ring to begin with.

No, you can’t even wait another hour. Your thumb hits the call button on Eddie’s name, top of your favorites, the recent calls, and your text messages. Doesn’t matter, if your thumb hits the top of your screen it’ll lead to him somehow.

He picks up on the second ring. “Hi, baby.” He greets you so warmly, a smile radiating in his voice.

You stare at the ring now sitting in your hand and nearly cry just from his tone alone. “Come home.”

“Wh-what, why?” Eddie asks, sounding alarmed. “Are you okay, did something happen, or--?” You can hear him moving around, he’s already getting ready to leave.

“I really need you right now.” You tell him, watching the silver band catch the fluorescent lighting of the closet. “Just come home.”

“Okay, sit tight, be right there. Love you.” Before you can respond, he hangs up, and you suddenly realize you have mere minutes to go and turn off the blaring music.

When Eddie bursts through the door, you greet him in the front entrance, the music turned off as you stand there with one hand behind your back, concealing the box in your hands. It lasts only a second. “Ask me.” You tell him, forgetting to show him the ring.

Eddie stops in his tracks; unsure he heard you correctly. He appears deeply concerned, his brow deeply furrowed and lips in a tight line. “I’m sorry?”

“Oh.” You let out, bringing the ring into his sight. Eddie’s eyes widen as he sees the box within your clenched grip. You shove it into his chest, eyes welling up as you tell him again. “Ask me. Get down on one knee and ask me.”

“A-a-are you sure? I had a plan, I was gonna make a whole romantic evening out of it—”

You interrupt him, happy tears shining in your eyes. “Edward Munson if you don’t ask me right now, I swear to god—”

“Okay, okay!” He chuckles, relieved his worry was all for nothing, yet his heart races as he shakily takes a breath and slowly lowers onto one of his knees. “Y/N L/N,” he starts, licking his lips as he smiles up at you. He holds out the tiny box you spent the last hour fidgeting with and opens it. “Will you marry me?” It couldn’t have looked any better…the shine in his eyes as he looks up at you, how the heavy breathing of his chest signals his nerves, his fingers fidgeting around the little black box.

You giggle through a teary yes, meeting him halfway as he rushes to his feet, grabby hands pawing at his face to yank him into a kiss. You’re both smiling too much to truly lock lips, feeling the top row of his teeth against your own gnash in the best of ways. “Put it on, put it on!” You mutter, your left hand tapping his chest impatiently.

His hands move quickly, stumbling as he slides it on. You can swear you see his eyes well up as he admires how it looks on your finger. “Back where it belongs.” You whisper to yourself, tapping your fingers on his chest.

The sentence takes a minute for Eddie to register as he smiles down at you, lovelorn. “Did you try the ring on?”

Your eyes widen, your face breaking into a wide smile. “I mean, with a ring as perfect as this one, how could I not?”

“Perfect, eh?” He asks, one hand moving up to caress your cheek. “I’ll take it.” He leans down to kiss you, all his emotions he fails to put into words conveying in the deep and lush kiss. It takes your breath away. “You sure? You wanna wear a pretty white dress and walk down the aisle to little old me?” Eddie ignored the subtle strain at his cock as he pictured you in a white dress at the opposite end of the aisle. Well, that’s new.

“Yes, I’m fucking sure!” You tell him, lightly bonking him as you continue to kiss him. “I wouldn’t have stared at the box for twenty minutes if I wasn’t sure.”

He separates from you, a smirk on his face. “Twenty minutes?”

“Yeah. If it wasn’t a ring, I think I would’ve died.” You confess easily, and the truth always comes so easy to you when it comes to Eddie. “Now kiss me some more.”

He laughs, leaning in for a slippery wet kiss. His breath is delicious, he tilts his head to deepen the kiss while his fingers trail along your side and rest on a patch of skin that’s exposed on your hip. It tugs the littlest of whimpers out of you, hands resting on his broad shoulders. His tongue licks along the bottom lip, asking for permission in a way he usually demands. You grant it, your foot taking an accidental step back on the hardwood.

Eddie’s hand that rests on your face moves down your neck, his rough fingers are tense as they seem to memorize every inch of your skin. Your neck tingles in its wake, a sigh of contentment leaves your lips. Eddie responds with a dirty exhale into your mouth and your jaw falls open in a sudden need for him. A sudden charge in you appears out of thin air, wanting more. “Ed.” You whimper out, clutching onto his jacket he’s still wearing.

He hums in response; you can feel his lips turn upward into a smirk as his hands continue their journey to your waistline. Your thighs clench together, craving friction on your heat that for whatever reason he hasn’t granted yet. You become impatient, moving the jacket off his shoulders and you’re happily greeted by the muscle shirt he’s wearing, his gorgeous arms on full display. His lips kiss down your neck, his hands spread out as if to touch every inch that they can, lifting your oversized t-shirt to expose the skin. You move to assist him, lifting your shirt above your head. It’s not going fast enough for you, there’s too much clothing on you.

Your feet unconsciously move toward somewhere you can lie down, the couch, the counter, the stairs, anywhere to prevent your knees from buckling embarrassingly. “Where you going?” He mutters, yet still allowing you to lead.

The back of your thighs meet the armrest of the couch. “The couch, apparently.” You answer, sighing as he continues to devour your neck.

Eddie inhales the perfume you spritzed that morning and lets out a chuckle. Before you can even ask, he pushes you by the shoulders, making you fall backwards onto the couch. “Fine by me.”

Your back hits the cushions, a rough landing as you bounce. Eddie crawls on top of you, tongue meeting your leg in a trail of wet kisses as he makes his way up to your pelvis. A whine leaves your throat, eyes closing in bliss as each kiss contributes to the blindingly hot need for him in your pussy.

Eddie reaches your crotch, and as he lifts his mouth from you, you expect him to take your shorts off. Instead, he puts his face in and inhales, moaning when your aroma hits his nose. Just from your smell he can tell how wet you are. “Baby you are soaked, aren’t you?” His brown eyes meet yours, lust overwhelming his eyes.

“Always.” You answer, not a hint of shame behind it. “Always ready for you.”

Eddie’s eyes roll into the back of his head at your answer, groaning. Fuck, doesn’t that deserve a reward. His hands easily hook around the elastic band of your grey shorts, moving them swiftly off your legs. His original plan to tease you through your panties goes to shit, your eagerness driving the need to devour you like an arrow into his chest. The glisten of your folds is a sight to see– as always– as he makes himself comfortable on the couch, situating your legs over his shoulders. A squeal of giggles escapes your throat as he tugs your body to where he needs you. Your knees meet your torso, toes already curled at the anticipation as his hot and heavy breaths send jolts of pleasure and he hasn’t even touched your dripping cunt yet.

“Eddie.” Your voice comes out desperate.

Eddie smirks at it, it’s barely been a full minute since he tugged your shorts off. “I know.” One hand that rests on your thigh reaches forward for your left hand, toying with the ring that hasn’t been on your finger for more than five minutes. Your hand shakily grips his tightly and you clench your thighs around his head tightly in anticipation.

After what feels like ages, he finally leans in to devour you, using his tongue in one long stripe along your folds. The release it gives you is both not enough and everything you need. Your hips grind up to meet his mouth, heels digging in, and his deep chuckle vibrating against your pussy is too fucking good. Moans leave your mouth at your breathing rate, every breath being a whimper to let Eddie know how fucking good his mouth feels against you.

The hand still on your other thigh travels to play at your clit gently, and your moans go silent as your thighs fucking quake against him. Eddie can’t stop the satisfaction that purrs through him in the form of laughter. “Fuck, baby. Barely touched you.” He mutters, low enough he’s not even sure you hear him.

Halfway through a sigh, it turns into a laugh. “Mouth feels so good.”

Eddie hums in response, mouthing at your folds again before his tongue makes its way into you, his nose nuzzling your clit. He fucks you with his tongue and you grind against him, the grip on your left hand harsh and his nails now digging into your right thigh. “Cunt smells so fucking good.” He says, rutting his nose against your clit and knowing damn well what it was doing to you. “Tastes…” he pauses fucking you with his tongue again, “…tastes like fucking heaven, fuck, baby.”

Eddie is driving you to the edge quickly, your thighs tense against his head as your hips continue to grind up against him. Your free hand lands in his hair, pulling at the roots at every wave of pleasure he gives you. Eddie could swear the pulls feel like a heartbeat at his roots, not that he minds. As he continues and drives you faster to that high, he notices the tugs get faster and he moans when he realizes something you do not.

He slides two fingers in, moving them back and forth, listening to the sinful wet sounds your pussy makes as it weeps for him. As your slick makes a mess on his chin and hands as he smirks up at you, hooking his fingers against your g-spot. Your thighs clench even harder as the heat expands, radiating through your body and you barely have a second to think to warn him. “Ed, I, I—” He feels you flutter around his fingers as you cum, your legs shaking as you lose all control of your extremities. He saw it coming from a mile away, as the tugs on his hair became more frequent.

He continues to lick at the slick of your folds and finger you gently as you come down from your high, your entire body going limp. He gives one last kiss to your clit and kisses his way up your body, you watch as his wide smile comes closer and closer to you. “How’s my girl?”

A giggle leaves your mouth, smiling up at him gleefully. “I’m alright.” Eddie tickles your hip bone, and you squirm underneath him, giggling harder. “Okay, okay! Fuck!” Your legs wrap around his hips, and you tug his growing tent down to meet your exposed pussy. “Need you.”

“Need to feel that pussy wrapped around my cock, baby.” Eddie grinds himself into your heat, teasing himself, but admiring the way your eyes roll into the back of your head.

Your heat is throbbing at this point, begging for more. “Need your cock in me, Ed. Want you to fuck me open.”

Eddie’s eyes widen, as he’s the one that usually does the talking. “Yeah? Need this big cock in that tight little pussy?”

“So fucking bad, Ed. Please give it to me.”

“Oh I’m gonna give it to you.” He leans forward for a wet and slobbery kiss, one that you embrace at tenfold. Your hand goes to his jeans where they’re laying now on your pelvic bone to undo the button, shakily attempting to with only one hand, the other still in his grip.

“Ed…” You whimper, tugging on the waistband wordlessly. “Get these fucking jeans off.”

Eddie chuckles as he climbs off you to take his jeans off. You sit up to watch him as his gorgeous figure gets undressed. Your hands move to your back to get rid of the bra that still hides your chest. He walks up to you sitting on the couch, placing a finger to tilt your chin up. You peer up at him with wide doe eyes, his cock only inches away from your face.

His thumb gently swipes at your bottom lip, admiring the shade of them. “So pretty.” He mutters, about to ask you to lay down.

“Wanna fuck it?” You ask, his cock mere inches from your face, you’re suddenly craving his balls up against your cheek and the weight of his cock on your tongue.

“Weren’t you just begging me to fuck your pussy?” He asks, searching your eyes for the sudden change in you.

Your mouth opens obediently, pulling a gasp of disbelief from Eddie. His cock literally twitches, and he realizes there’s no reason not to let you if you’re so eager to. He slides his cock in your mouth, watching as he slowly moves to the back of your throat, your doe eyes still looking up at him.

“Oh, my good girl.” He rubs at your cheek, feeling the length of himself against it. “Such a good girl for daddy.”

As much as you resist, your eyelids flutter shut, moving your head up and down, your cheeks hollowing out as you suck on him. You hear a groan of contentment out of him, and it only encourages you. One of his hands weaves itself into your hair, using it to guide you. You take yourself off his cock, breathing heavily as you take a long lick at a vein along the side of the shaft. Your left hand wraps around the length, jerking him off as you lean forward to take one of his balls into your mouth.

“Oh fuck, that’s so pretty.” He mutters, causing you to stop.

“Hmm?”

“Look, baby. Your ring on my cock…wanna take a picture…fuck.”

You don’t answer, just continuing to jerk him off as your mouth resumes its journey to his balls. You take one in your mouth, the hair on them smelling like sweat. You take a big inhale of them, sighing happily as you suck at the flesh. Eddie’s knee almost buckles as he sees what you’re doing, the idea that you were inhaling his raw scent too much for him to comprehend.

“Oh Jesus, trying to kill me.”

“No.” You mutter, hand still jerking him as you move to give the other side the same treatment. “Just blow you stupid.”

Eddie moans at your nonchalance, and as you finish with the second ball you move back to his cock, spitting on it and taking it back into your mouth. You give no warning as you take in as much as you can, focusing on getting him to the back of your throat. Before he can instruct you, you relax your throat and allow your nose meet his pubic hair, taking in the damn whimper that leaves his mouth, relishing in it.

“Fuck, if you keep going like this I will fucking blow.”

At his insistence, your mouth leaves his cock with a pop, still on your knees, completely naked as your eyes stare up at him. Eddie nearly loses his mind as he looks down at you, hands combing through your hair. “Lie down, baby.”

You need no more instruction, lying on the couch, your legs open as you wait for him. He sits himself in between them, hands framing your head as he looks at your face. “I can’t believe I get to marry someone so fucking beautiful.” Your eyes well up at the sentence as it fucking sucks the air out of your lungs.

Eddie barely gives you a chance to recover, sliding himself in you. Your jaw drops at it, eyelids growing heavy as you watch him carefully. “You can’t…you can’t just say something like that.” You whimper, gasping for breath. “It’s not fair.”

“I’ll say it because it’s the fucking truth.” Eddie states, watching for the signal when you’re ready for him to move. “God you in a fucking white dress, looking all sweet n’ shit…”

“Gonna be your wife.” Eddie’s hips buck into you in response, and a gasp falls from your lips in surprise. “Fuck!”

“Gonna be my fucking wife.” It comes out of him in a growl, a sense of pride runs through Eddie as he is elated he gets to share the discovery of his love of calling you his wife with you, finally. “Oh baby, pussy is so tight, just suckin’ me in.”

“Want that. Want you. Want us.” It babbles out, Eddie gaining speed as he watches your cocked out expression looking so adoringly up at him. You hold onto him, nails scratching down his back. He bucks harder, head buried in your neck as he attempts to calm himself down. “Want you to put a baby in me.”

A fucking growl leaves his throat and his head perks up to look at you. “Oh my god, I almost just came.” He says lowly.

“Really?” You ask him, eyes shining bright at his confession.

He nods, gulping. “Y-yeah.” Your legs tug him back down, lifting your hip to get him to fuck you more. A grunt of acknowledgement escapes his throat, back to business. “Gonna put a baby in you.”

“Oh fuck, Ed, just like that.”

“Gonna marry you and get you fucking pregnant, you’ll be my hot little housewife!”

“You’re in my fucking stomach Ed, fuck you’re so deep!”

Eddie cannot help the swell of pride he feels at this. “Gonna fill you up, baby.”

“Fuck…Ed,”

The moment your pussy flutters around him he cums into you, white sticky ropes filling you up. His weight collapses on you, your legs gripping on his torso tight, holding him in. Your eyelids feel heavy as you look up at him, holding his face. “You know, I really can’t wait to marry you.” Eddie tells you, his thumb toying with your ring, his hand resting on yours.

You gulp, the sentiment the same. He knows it by your expression and by your impatience, you can’t wait either. “How long—” you yawn, “how long have you had it?”

“Uh…since Harrington was here.” Eddie refuses to say Steve’s name while he’s inside you.

“What!?” Your eyes pop open in disbelief. “You’ve had this for weeks? And you haven’t asked me yet?”

“I knew I wasn’t fucking crazy.” Eddie mutters, and you peer up at him, eyebrow raised in a question. “I’ll tell you later.”

“Ok.” You yawn again, clutching onto his back. “We have all the time in the world for you to tell me, anyway.”

Eddie’s chest swells with emotion, clutching onto you like his lifeline. “I love you so much, sweetheart.”

You nuzzle your nose into his hair, letting yourself get into his tangled curls. “Love you too.”

You fall asleep within seconds, Eddie texts his employees he had an emergency and can’t return for the day. He had a full day, but that was before you decided to take over his proposal.

Thank you so much for reading! I love to read your comments, replies, and reblogs. As always, reblogging is the best way to support your fic writers on tumblr.

taglist: @pinkcowracing @yourthebrokengirl @skrzydlak @thirddeadlysin @sammararaven @bebe07011 @prettylovley @josephquinnschesthair @forget-you-morelike-fuck-you @names-were-taken

taglist for Really Drives Me Mad: @yunnie-f1 @josephquinnsfreckles @corrodedcoffincumslut @daisyridleyyyy @daniellabrandt @lail1010 @spencerssareid @bl4ckt00thgr1n @ali-r3n @tlclick73 @vintagehellfire @hellfirefiend @kittydeadbones @luumunson @uncxmfxrtablex @eddiesgfffffffffff @hkurbsjundebi @eddies-puppet @joantje @novelnovella @shady-the-simp @lma1986 @mischieftom @strangerfan3691 @crayongirl-linz

if your url is in red it means it did not let me tag you

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

486 notes · View notes