#halloween dance with new directions | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lynbichiots · 3 months ago

Text

𝐄𝐲𝐞𝐬 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬!

pairing: Satoru Gojo x Fem!Reader

tw: hate sex, abuse of power, manipulation, shower sex (stimulates you with the showerhead), dirty talk, spanking, dehumanization, (incorrect use of curses), sadism, misogyny, light choking, age gap of 21 (reader) and 28 (Satoru), (reader has 0 survival instincts)

wc: 7,1k

The night fell heavy, laden with a dense air that barely left room to breathe. The shadowy streets stretched toward the horizon, but Satoru's footsteps echoed with a steady rhythm, each one soaked in a restrained anger that had matured over time. Under the waning moon, his silhouette cast dark shadows that seemed to take on a life of their own. As a special grade sorcerer, his power over curses was beyond imagination.

And you… you had awakened his wrath.

Two months had passed since a special grade curse had taken the life of his best friend without mercy, and now he had been assigned a special task: to watch over the person who had unleashed that curse.

You.

You were the one who had killed his best friend.

And the most sinister part?

You didn’t even realize it. You did it just for fun.

Sighing in exhaustion, his heart heavy, Satoru straightened up, momentarily closing his eyes as he tilted his face toward the sky where the moonlight was kind to him, illuminating his face. Halloween night wrapped the city in a shroud of shadowy mystery. The lights from jack-o’-lanterns lit his path, casting dancing figures on the walls of the buildings.

The laughter of costumed children echoed like an enchanted chorus across the sidewalk, but even their joy couldn’t calm the storm that raged within Satoru.

As he opened his eyes and took one last glance at the sidewalk, his teeth clenched in fury as new curses emerged from unexpected places, embedding themselves in the small bodies, oblivious to the demonic entities. Each laugh, each joyful scream, was a dagger stabbing deeper into his resentful heart.

Seconds passed, and with them, new curses sprouted, one after another, like cockroaches crawling out of the sewers, infesting everything in their path.

And all of them, provoked by you.

He knew it.

He could see you, smell you, and sense you from miles away. Thanks to his six eyes, which burned with unquenchable hatred in your direction.

He could feel your energy expanding like pheromones in the air, trapping him without escape despite his resistance to your charms. Each beat of his heart was a reminder of the betrayal, of the darkness that consumed him.

Satoru, the embittered villain who swore he wouldn’t rest until he saw you fall, until every curse you had unleashed was repaid in full. His obsession with revenge had transformed him into a shadow of what he once was, a being whose only purpose was to see you suffer.

A few weeks before Suguru’s tragic death, the two friends had shared a secret conversation, filled with topics so dangerous that they could have been executed or silenced by the higher-ups. Being the strongest had led them to question why they practiced sorcery. In those moments of confidence, Satoru revealed the depth of his hatred, a hatred that had grown over years of feeling used and betrayed.

They were always seen as monsters, weapons meant to protect the defenseless souls of humans. But why should they, when the world was full of humans like you? Humans who, in their eyes, deserved nothing but contempt.

To Satoru, all humans were cursed, sinful apes.

And he wanted to exterminate them all.

You were first on his list.

With his long arms reaching towards the sky, Satoru closed his eyes one last time, letting out a breath as he stretched. Every muscle in his body tensed and then relaxed, releasing his pent-up fury. A satisfied smile spread across his face as his eyes focused on the distant house at the top of the last mountain in Weverpoond.

There, in the distance, he saw you.

His gaze filled with a dark determination, a silent promise made the moment he met you, and his hatred turned into obsession.

Resuming his steps with a twisted joy, Satoru crushed each of the curses in his path, swallowing them and making them disappear instantly, his eyes locked on your figure as you sat on the black carpet of your room.

He watched you, completely mesmerized, his mind focused on a single purpose:

Revenge.

•

"Come on!" you laugh with a mix of defiance and nervousness, rolling your eyes and bringing your index finger to your chin, tapping it lightly as you slowly make your way toward the shelf filled with stuffed animals from your childhood. "I know you're here, stop hiding."

Without taking your eyes off the shelf, you furrow your brows in a mix of frustration and confusion, glancing sideways at the black wooden board lying on the floor. The small quartz triangle remains motionless, and with a contained fury, you return your gaze to your stuffed animals.

"If you don't show yourself by the count of three," you say with a trembling but firm voice, biting your lower lip to hold back the laughter bubbling in your chest, "I'll say goodbye tonight and won’t play again until tomorrow."

The threat hangs in the air, thick and palpable, but not a single curse stirs.

Feeling disheartened and disappointed, you complain with annoyance and begin to count.

"One...”

Nothing.

"Two..."

The wind howls and wails, filling the quiet room with an unsettling noise.

"Don't make me reach the end," you whisper with desperation, holding your third finger with your thumb, giving the curse one last chance to appear. But seeing nothing, you exhale in defeat, feeling your hope fade into the darkness of the night.

Silence took over your room, interrupted only by the whispering wind that seemed to mock your frustration. You remain still, your gaze fixed on the stuffed animals, waiting for movement, a sign, anything to break the tension squeezing your chest.

Suddenly, a faint creak broke the stillness, and your eyes widened with a mix of excitement and terror as your heart began to pound. The sound came from the black wooden board on the floor, and you quickly ran toward it, freezing as you witnessed the scene unfolding at your feet.

The small quartz triangle began moving rapidly, tracing letter by letter to form a sentence. Your eyes anxiously followed its movements, and you nervously swallowed as the triangle slowed down, finally completing the sentence.

“Be careful, he’s watching you.”

You shivered.

“Who?” you murmured, feeling a spark of excitement as a chill ran down your spine.

The triangle pointed to the letter “S” and then stopped. You cracked your fingers in anticipation and raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms in boredom. You stared at the Ouija board for a few seconds, and nothing happened. You even leaned toward it, letting the cool October air brush against your bare thighs under your short skirt.

With the wood and quartz in your hands, you examined them closely, searching for any imperfections but finding none. Everything seemed to be in perfect condition, but an idea crossed your mind, and an ironic smile formed on your lips as you let out a scoff.

"You’re messing with me," you muttered, directing your gaze toward your stuffed animals. You squinted, watching for any movement, any sign of life in those inanimate toys. "Come on, it’s Halloween. Don’t make me think there aren’t spirits in every corner of the house."

The silence grows heavy, and you wait, but nothing happens.

Pouting, you glance back at your Ouija board, hoping for some response, some hint of the supernatural. But the board remains still, inert. Frustration wells up inside you, and you're about to throw the Ouija out of sight when, suddenly, a dull thud behind you paralyzes you.

You quickly turn your head toward the shelf, and there, on the floor, is one of your favorite stuffed animals. The old bear, Berry, with its missing eye, stares at you from its position on the ground. A chill runs down your spine as you drop the Ouija onto your startled feet. You blink, your lips parting, and your tongue feels heavy and dry in your mouth. Swallowing with difficulty, you straighten up, sensing an ominous air, different from the curses you invoke every night.

With determination, you ignore the fallen Ouija and step toward the affected stuffed bear. Each step you take toward the bear echoes in the room, and with them, you feel a thousand eyes following your every move.

As you pick up the bear, a more intense chill runs down your spine, as if an invisible presence were watching you. The atmosphere thickens, charged with a palpable tension that makes you want to vomit.

With the bear in hand, you feel trapped in a macabre game, where every shadow and every sound seems to conspire against you. Reality and the supernatural intertwine, and for a moment, you doubt your own sanity.

You spin around abruptly, but see no one. The room seems empty, the only thing moving behind you are the sheer purple curtains, stirred by the breeze from outside. With determined steps, you rush to close the windows, feeling the hairs on your body stand up in fear. With the window now shut, you feel a little calmer, but the sensation of being watched doesn’t go away.

“Who’s there?” you ask with a trembling voice, trying to keep calm.

You scan every corner of your room, leaving no spot unchecked. You see nothing, but fear still pulses through your veins like a poison without an antidote.

The sensation of being watched lingers, and a shadow in the corner of the room seems to move with every blink.

Perhaps you’ve already gone mad. A side effect of playing with spirits.

Silence is your only response. Your room feels cold, though no cool air is circulating inside. You close your eyes, trying to let it go, and once again, you bend down to where the Ouija board lies on the floor. The black, fluffy carpet tickles your legs as your fingers quickly move to close the game.

When it’s finally over, you breathe a little easier.

You sit, chest heaving, trying to calm your breath. Suddenly, the silence is broken when the record player on the small table near the window begins to spin, emitting an eerie crackle before the song Run, Rabbit! Run fills your room ominously. The sound seems to wrap around every corner, making the air feel heavier, thick with mystery.

Your eyes snap open and your heart pounds, stuck in your throat as you slowly rise, your eyes fixed on the record player. Every step you take toward it resonates in the silence, as if the house itself were the only thing listening.

With trembling hands, you try to turn off the record player, but the task is impossible. A broken whimper escapes your throat in anguish, and in your fear, you end up smashing the player. But to your horror, the melody continues, growing louder as if the lyrics are offering you the solution to this horrific mess that’s driving you mad and making you want to wet your panties.

Desperate and with your body turned to jelly, you clench your fingers together into a tight fist and begin pounding on the broken device. Yet, none of it helps, and you only succeed in hurting your hand, drawing blood, while the song keeps playing, making your eyes well up with tears.

Biting your lips and backing away from the record player, you take a few steps back until a playful laugh brushes against your right ear, prickling your skin. Your eyes widen in terror and you scream, spinning quickly in the direction of the laugh.

But when you turn, there’s nothing there again, and this time, you’re truly frightened, knowing that whatever is causing the disturbance is not a simple curse like the ones you’re used to.

So, with your mouth dry and fear gripping your voice...

You speak.

“Who’s there?” you repeat, this time in a firmer tone, though the tremor in your voice is still evident.

You turn slowly on your heels, scanning every dark corner of your room with wide eyes, stopping abruptly when you see a shadow dart past. You blink, squinting to focus on the figure, but fail, as the fast-moving entity disappears from your view again.

Then, it passes right in front of your nose, and when you turn your head, your hands tremble, for there is nothing. Fear mixes with a strange sense of curiosity that makes you break out in a cold sweat.

Snapping out of your mind, your senses return, allowing you to hear and pay attention once more to your surroundings, where you realize that the song is still playing, repeating over and over. Frustrated and with fear buried deep in your chest, you approach the record player again, and just as you’re about to touch it, the music stops abruptly, leaving an unsettling echo in the air.

Staring blankly at the ruined player, your shoulders sag with less tension in your body, and your lungs fill with air again. But as soon as that feeling of relief arrives, it vanishes when you feel a cold breeze on the back of your neck, as if someone were breathing behind you.

You spin around quickly, but once again, find nothing behind you, only the oppressive sensation of being watched by millions of eyes that burn painfully against your skin, sending a shiver down your spine.

“T-This...” you whisper, your voice barely audible. “It’s not fun anymore.”

Silence is your only answer. The room, now plunged into an eerie twilight, seems to take on a life of its own, a life that threatens to swallow you whole, leaving nothing but your bones behind.

Finally, accepting your fate, you realize that you’re not alone, and whatever you summoned with the Ouija board is still here, lurking in the shadows.

Or maybe...

Your mind flashes images from the past few weeks, where you’ve encountered that man more times than you’d like to admit; they no longer even seem like coincidences. His appearances had become borderline stalking. But no, there was no way that mysterious man could be some kind of weird stalker.

He’s far too handsome for that.

Returning to the present, you reach one of your hands to the back of your neck, which still tingles from the entity’s breath, and scratch it hard. Nothing answers your pleas, and with your heart pounding wildly in your chest, you decide to leave your room to take a breather and try to ignore your new curse.

Your legs tremble with fear, but you force yourself to move forward. Your hands reach for the doorknob, which slips due to the sweat covering them, but you manage to open the door and stumble out of your room. Finally in the hallway, you walk towards the bathroom just a few doors away, each step echoing through the silent house as you head for the last door at the end of the hall, hoping to find some refuge in the familiarity of hot water.

Standing before your goal, your hands tremble again, but you manage to open the door. As you enter, you close your eyes for a moment, sighing with relief, though the invisible eyes still make you shiver with fear.

At this point, you’re unsure if you’re imagining things.

It’s not as if you could confirm you weren’t crazy—your skin burns from the sensation of a hateful gaze over your entire body, a gaze that multiplies several times, leaving a pair of eyes watching every move you make, ready to turn into fangs that would swallow you whole if you took a wrong step.

Finally opening your eyes, you let your fear subside just a little as you approach the large pearl-colored tub in the center of the bathroom. Your fingers brush against the golden taps, and with a subtle motion, you turn them both, letting cold and hot water slowly fill the tub where, after washing your body, you plan to relax for a while.

The sound of water flowing provides a moment of calm, and without further thought, you head to the shower just a few steps away from the cold porcelain beneath you. Inside the glass enclosure surrounding the shower, you find yourself silently wishing that when you turn on the faucet, the water will wash away not just the cold sweat clinging to your skin, but also the fear gripping you.

With one final, shaky sigh, you quickly strip off your clothes and step under the showerhead, placing it against the wall above your head. The hot water envelops you, relaxing your tense muscles, and for a brief moment, you allow yourself to close your eyes, letting the steam wrap around you like a blanket.

But then, a dull noise echoes inside the bathroom, causing your eyes to snap open. Breathless, your gaze darts around, struggling to focus on anything through the steam.

Until, amidst the artificial mist, you see something. And when you do, the urge to cry has never been stronger. Your mouth opens and closes like a fish out of water, your legs buckle, and you cling desperately to the bathroom tiles in a pathetic attempt to find comfort.

You hesitate to blink, afraid that if you do, the entity will disappear. But even so, you blink involuntarily, and when you see nothing has changed, you remain frozen in place, staring into the fogged-up bathroom mirror, where a large, blurry figure stands behind you.

You turn your head quickly, but no one is there.

Fear grips you once again, and you feel the air grow heavier. The figure in the mirror fades, but the sensation of being watched intensifies.

With your heart pounding loudly in your ears and your pulse racing, you hurry to finish your shower, knowing even the water offers no comfort. But despite the lack of comfort, you’re terrified to leave the one place where the entity hasn’t fully manifested.

The water runs down your body, turning cold as the seconds pass. You realize you’re not alone, and whatever you’ve summoned has no intention of leaving you in peace.

The room, now shrouded in unsettling gloom, seems to take on a life of its own. Shadows in the corners shift with every blink, and the water in the tub continues to fill, nearing the point of overflowing. The sound of water falling onto you mingles with the frantic beating of your heart.

However, you can’t shake the feeling that someone else is in the room with you, watching from the shadows like a predator, waiting for the right moment to reveal themselves.

The silence becomes oppressive, each passing second heightening the sensation of thousands of eyes on you. You turn slowly, scanning every corner of the room, hoping for a logical explanation. But logic seems to have abandoned this place.

Suddenly, a barely audible whisper breaks the silence, sinking your stomach. You can’t make out the words, but the tone is unmistakable: someone is there, and they’re speaking to you. This time, fear takes hold of you with no intention of letting go.

“Is s-someone there?” you ask, trying to keep your voice steady.

The whisper stops, and for a moment, everything falls into absolute silence, allowing you to take one last breath. Then, you feel a presence behind you, and you know you’re done for—a large, strong shadow looms over your back, grabbing both your hands and pressing them against the cold tiles on either side of your head. You try to turn your face to the side, but your body won’t respond, as if you’ve gone into shock, leaving you paralyzed.

You’ve never encountered a curse this strong, let alone one that could physically touch you.

Sure, a few weeks ago, you released Sukuna, but even he couldn’t touch you or do anything against you.

This was new, and it scared you.

But before you could process what was happening, he sifted through your memories, and a spark of curiosity surged through you, making the blood in your body flow with more force, tinged with excitement.

“Hmmm, riddle me this,” you say mockingly, closing your eyes, still feeling his cold skin against yours. Those unmistakable blue eyes ran nostalgically through your mind with every furrowed line. “Are you who I think you are?”

The room seems to breathe with you, every corner filled with a palpable tension. And then, you open your eyes, and finally, you see him.

It’s that man.

His tall, ominous figure barely visible in the shadows. His terrifying eyes glow with a strange light, and an enigmatic smile spreads across his face, followed by a low chuckle as he presses his body closer to yours.

“Smart girl. I’ve been watching you,” he says, his voice soft and melodic, yet laced with an implicit threat.

His rough fingers massage your hands, and his mouth descends on your exposed neck, sinking his teeth into your pulse, making you scream. Your body jerks involuntarily as his hot tongue laps at the wounded spot, and you sigh when his lips brush against your ear as he speaks in a low voice, “I’ve been waiting for this moment.”

His body trembles against yours, as if holding back thousands of years of frustration. His erratic breath falls on your ear, and you swallow a gasp as you feel his bulge pressing against your bare buttocks.

“Why?” you ask, trying to stay calm.

He pulls away from your neck, where he had found a comfortable spot, and his blue eyes lock onto yours, hypnotizing you. Seeing the effect he has on you, he smiles—a smile both comforting and terrifying.

“I just want to play,” he replies, and with one hand, he gathers both your wrists, pinning them above your head, while his free hand begins to playfully trace your neck, his thumb brushing against your pulse as you inhale sharply, doubting everything.

You look at him with fear, and his smile widens. His face lowers toward yours, and his sweet breath brushes your lips. “Will you play with me?”

He pressed his body even closer to yours, and his hand tightened around your neck. Your eyes widened, staring at him in terror as his eyes scanned your face with a mixture of interest and frustration. His smile grew more enigmatic, with a hint of frustration, making it harder for you to breathe.

“Play?” you repeat with effort, barely able to draw in the little air left in your lungs. You close one eye in discomfort from the choking, trying to understand his intentions.

“Yes, play,” he replies, his voice soft but filled with restrained emotion, as he releases your neck and moves his hand away from the affected area.

You lower your head, gasping for breath, careful not to let the water still running down your body enter your nose. You stay still, unsure how to respond.

“Why are you doing this?” you ask, trying to remain calm. “I don’t even know you. What is it that you really want?”

The figure lets out a low, almost mocking laugh, and his eyes narrow as something dark flickers through them.

“I want many things from you,” he says, his tone shifting from the hatred it once held to something more seductive. “But first…” His thumb and forefinger pinch your nipple hard, and you gasp, feeling his lips once again on your neck. “I want you to pay attention to me.”

A shiver runs down your spine. There’s something in his voice that both draws you in and terrifies you at the same time.

He takes a step back, his expression shifting to one of mild irritation.

“It’s not that difficult, you know?” he says, his tone now more serious. His hand strokes your stomach, moving lower until it reaches your mound. His fingertips begin to tease the area, while his lips place soft kisses along your collarbones, and you moan, unable to move your body. “I just want you to answer a few questions. Nothing complicated. I know you already know the answers.”

Dizzy in an inexplicable way, you stop paying attention to his words, focusing instead on the way his fingers feel so close to your heat. You realize you’re playing a dangerous game, one where the rules aren’t clear.

But there’s something in his gaze that captivates you, something that makes you want to know more about him.

You must have definitely lost your mind.

“And if I don’t want to play?” you ask, challenging him.

He smiles, and his eyes gleam. But this time, his smile is colder, more calculated, and finally, he lets you see the hatred and rage that he can no longer hide.

“I’m afraid you don’t have a choice,” he replies, his voice low and threatening, as his thumb begins to circle your clit. “Because you’re already in the game, whether you like it or not.”

With those words, and locking eyes with him, you know there’s no way out.

But it wasn’t like you were really looking for one.

That was your biggest mistake.

You really should have run when you had the chance.

_______

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’m sorry!”

You screamed one last time before another slap landed on your already red and bleeding buttocks. Your voice was just a whisper after so much time spent crying out. Still in the shower, the water had stopped long ago, and your arms remained pinned to the tiles, held by shapeless dark curses that burned your skin, while Satoru continued punishing you for your recklessness.

You wanted to protest and hate him, but that was impossible. After all, you were the one who freed Sukuna.

Sukuna killed his best friend, and now, Satoru was determined to make you pay for it.

“Did you think you could pull that shit without consequences?” His voice was barely a whisper, but it echoed in your ears like thunder. Satoru’s eyes, cold as steel, were fixed on you, and in that moment, you knew there was no escape.

“It wasn’t personal,” you mumbled, more to yourself than to him, but you knew it was a lie.

You had unleashed those curses out of curiosity, for fun, and the chaos they caused had taken lives, left irreparable scars. Satoru had witnessed it all, and now he was here to balance the scales.

“It wasn’t personal…” Satoru repeated, a bitter smile curving his lips. His cold hands began to knead your wounded buttocks, and you hissed in pain, pressing your cheek against the tile in front of you.

Suddenly, his hand moved down to your sex and began rubbing it slowly, bringing you pleasure. His calloused fingers expertly found every spot you liked, as if he already knew where they were.

“Do you feel that?” His voice was low, almost calm. You glanced in his direction and let a tear of frustration fall when something flickered in his eyes, momentarily erasing the hatred there. Then, with a tense blink, he clenched his jaw and slapped your heat as punishment, leaning into your ear to whisper, “That desperation and pain are nothing compared to what Suguru suffered.”

The pain coursed through you like an electric current. It was as if every shadow, every creature you had summoned, was claiming a piece of you, hungry for vengeance over your betrayal. You could feel them, an unbearable weight crushing your body and soul, whispering promises of destruction in your mind, while their master tormented you sexually.

“Did Sukuna also torture Suguru sexually?” you laughed tiredly, smiling triumphantly inside when you saw Satoru tense. “If so, I don’t think he suffered as much as you’re making it seem.” A pout crossed your face. “I could even admit that he probably enjoyed it.”

The bathroom fell silent, the only sound being the water droplets falling from your body onto the slippery floor. Your gaze remained locked on Satoru’s, your neck beginning to ache from the uncomfortable position you forced yourself into just to connect with his eyes. His eyes, full of frustration, shimmered with the reflection of hurt tears.

You immediately regretted what you said, but the apology forming on your tongue had no chance to escape. Satoru’s hand shot out in fury, grabbing a fistful of your hair and yanking it harshly, arching your back. Your hips jerked upward, and your neck strained painfully from the forced stretch.

A moan escaped your lips as you felt his heavy erection press against your heat. His hips moved with force, making his presence undeniable. Even with one hand pulling your hair, his free hand gripped your jaw roughly, his thumb brushing over your lips before he crashed his mouth onto yours in a messy kiss.

And when you tried to keep up with his disordered kiss, an unbearable pain erupted in the soft flesh of your mouth.

The sharp pain of his teeth sinking into your lip shook you like an electric shock. Satoru pulled back just enough for you to feel the warmth of his breath but not enough to free you from his hold. The metallic taste of blood filled your mouth, a blend of pain and desire that confused you even more.

In the darkness, his eyes gleamed with a mix of challenge and something darker, something you couldn’t quite decipher.

You could have pulled away, could have tried to escape, but deep down, you knew it would be useless. Satoru had you exactly where he wanted, and every move he made seemed designed to destabilize you even further. You stayed still, your breathing uneven as you struggled to regain control of your thoughts.

“Owww,” his long fingers tangled in your hair, pulling with the intent to leave pain in their wake, waiting for your response to his questions. “Does it hurt?”

He whispered against your skin, his voice laced with cruel softness. The question seemed sincere, but behind it, you sensed a twisted satisfaction, as if he was savoring every second of your confusion.

You didn’t want to give him that satisfaction. You forced yourself to swallow the pain and keep your gaze fixed on his. “I’ve felt worse,” you replied, your voice coming out more firm than you expected.

Satoru let out a low chuckle, barely a murmur escaping his lips as he locked his eyes on you again. “I hope so,” he replied, as he ran a finger over the spot where he had bitten you, lovingly wiping away the blood with an unsettling calm. “Because this is far from over.”

The tension between you was palpable, like a tight rope that could snap at any moment. And though part of you felt the urgency to act, to do something to regain control, another part of you recognized that he was playing a far more complex game than you had anticipated.

Your body still trembled under the weight of his proximity, but you forced yourself to stay calm.

“You’re filthy, pet,” a smile tugged at the corners of Satoru’s lips. Then, without another word, he stepped away from you, allowing the invisible curses on your arms to tighten their grip, bruising your skin. “I need to clean you off so I don’t dirty myself by touching a filthy monkey like you.”

“What are you—”

Your eyes widened in surprise, and your legs buckled. If they hadn’t been held in place by two curses beneath them, you were sure you would have collapsed onto the floor. A moan escaped your lips, and you bit them to stop your traitorous mouth from betraying you.

Pleasure surged through you as you felt two of Satoru’s fingers spread the lips of your sex, giving it a judgmental look. His lips clicked together in disapproval. You lifted your head and glanced at him over your shoulder, shuddering when you realized he had already been waiting for your gaze. With a cruel smile, he gave a teasing flick to your clit, making you squeeze your eyes shut as you lost control.

“How pathetic,” he said, his thumb quickly massaging the swollen nub, followed by a sadistic chuckle echoing through the empty bathroom.

Before you could respond to his insult, your toes curled, and your hands clenched into fists when the showerhead above you was ripped from its place and positioned over your clit, releasing a strong, warm stream of water onto it.

You were left weak and speechless as small moans betrayed you, escaping your lips.

“Mmm, just like that, good girl,” Satoru said, his voice filled with more mockery than anything else. His eyes gleamed with amusement that made you want to growl. But then, he lifted the showerhead again and aimed it directly between your legs, silencing all the protests in your mind as the stream of water hit your clit once more.

“Ahh… shit,” you groaned in frustration, incoherently screaming as you tried to cling to the slippery tiles, your hands grasping at nothing.

“Wait, please!” The water beat against your sex mercilessly, the pressure so intense it was about to numb and burn your skin alive.

But then, Satoru started moving the showerhead in small circles, massaging your clit from all angles, and the pain quickly transformed into pleasure, making you grit your teeth in frustration.

Somehow, he made you feel dirty and unworthy, made you wonder if you truly were a horrible human being like he had told you so many times. After thinking about it for a while, with your mind turned to mush from the pleasure, a few tears escaped, falling onto the floor, mixing with the water that was spreading across the room.

Satoru, seeing your pitiful state, paused for a moment, allowing you to breathe again. The two of you exchanged glances, with thousands of emotions swirling in your hearts—emotions and feelings neither of you were willing to let out.

But unlike you, Satoru wasn’t swayed by the fleeting connections of a single night.

He had come seeking revenge, and he wasn’t going to leave your bathroom until he got it.

So, pushing his left hand between your folds once again, he tugged at your clitoral hood, exposing the sensitive tip. With one last look of pity in your direction, the water fell onto the exposed spot, and a tremor ran through your entire body, igniting your nerves as if you were being electrocuted.

Your scream echoed in the bathroom, followed by Satoru’s delighted laughter.

“Stop!” you sobbed, shaking your head frantically as you involuntarily tried to spread your legs wider and raise your hips. With shame coursing through your entire being, one last plea left your lips, with nothing left to lose. “Stop, it’s too much, too much…”

Satoru didn’t respond, and you couldn’t open your eyes enough to see his expression. For some reason, the pleasure flooding your body made your eyelids contract, preventing you from keeping them open.

Your mouth hung open, letting gasps and cries escape without shame, blending with Satoru’s satisfied laughter as he continued to stimulate you from behind. Soon, the showerhead wasn’t the only thing stimulating you, as his thumb returned to your abused clit, rubbing it slowly, mixing pain and pleasure in a confusing swirl.

“Please…”

“Please what?” The water stopped falling onto your swollen heat, and relief washed over you.

Your heavy tongue worked hard to answer Satoru’s question, but the words struggled to form in your mind. Still, he noticed your effort, and with an exasperated eye roll, he released the curses from your body, causing you to collapse onto the cold floor like a rag doll.

From your pathetic position, lying on the cold tiles of your bathroom, Satoru made you turn to face him. Your tired eyelids opened, and for the first time that night, you could see him clearly.

It was a sin for someone so twisted to possess such a beautiful face.

His white hair clung to his fine, delicate face, and his unique eyes stared at you, filled with a whirlwind of emotions. But you didn’t pay attention to the details. You just wanted this torture to end. You didn’t even care if he killed you.

You just wanted to be free of his control.

“Finish this,” your naked body, compared to his fully dressed and imposing figure in his rolled-up black shirt and black dress pants, only highlighted the power imbalance between you two.

Satoru didn’t respond to your request. Instead, with adoration in his features, he ran his hands over your weak body, his fingers trembling as he held back from breaking you. You gasped at his touch, too corrupted to care about how sick the situation was.

“Do you want me to finish this, pet?” His hand moved up to your cheek, caressing it the way a master would pet their favorite dog, and you simply leaned into his touch, lovingly pressing your cheek into his palm, smiling softly in response.

“Yes…” you swallowed when his fingers wrapped around the hair at the nape of your neck, pulling you up and pressing your face to his. Frustration was all that filled his eyes, while in yours, there was only one word.

“Mercy”

His fist tightened in your hair, and with a curse slipping from his lips, he pulled you toward him, kissing you fervently. Each time his lips clashed desperately with yours, he made sure you felt, in every kiss, just how much he hated you, how much he despised you for making him obsess over you when you were the one person in the world he was supposed to hate until the end.

When you returned the kiss with the same intensity, crossing your hands behind his neck, Satoru let out a desperate moan against your lips. His arms wrapped around you, pulling you closer to his body as he stole your soul with his kiss.

Both of you became a mess, you pulling on his hair in desperation, drowning in the kiss, while he clawed at your body, clinging to it as if he might die the moment he let go.

“I hate you,” he whispered against your lips, and you smiled.

“I know,” you said, looking at him, stroking his cheek, planting one last kiss on his swollen lips.

You closed your eyes when you felt his teeth sink into your already wounded mouth, but you accepted it all, even as you bit him back, and both of you began to kiss again, tasting each other’s mixed blood.

Then, the situation shifted completely.

You gasped when you felt your chest touch the cold tiles of your bathroom. You couldn’t explain or analyze the moment Satoru had you on all fours, your upper body collapsed while your buttocks were left exposed to his intentions.

Feeling exposed and with your cheeks flushed, you tried to lift yourself onto your arms, but his foot on your cheek stopped you.

With his long leg stretched out, Satoru smiled in satisfaction from behind you, pleased that he didn’t need curses to have you at his mercy. And the last warning he gave of what was to come was the sound of his belt buckle being unfastened.

“You’re so fucking perfect, pet,” he said, and without another word, he fully entered your heat, making you scream from the brutal stretch.

“Aghhh… wait!” your voice broke, and you frowned as his foot pressed harder into your cheek, leaving a dirty imprint before he stepped away and returned to a comfortable position.

To your misfortune, Satoru being comfortable behind you only made his massive erection bury itself completely inside you, bringing tears to your eyes.

“Shit…” Satoru let out a growl of pleasure, his hands intertwining with yours, stretching your arms out in front of you still pressed to the floor, your buttocks in the air being pounded fiercely, the sound of slapping the only melody within the four walls enclosing you—“So fucking perfect, pet.”

“Satoru…” your mouth could only release the albino’s name, mixed with your ragged moans each time the man thrust into you hard, intent on causing pain.

“Yes, pet?”

His hands released yours, and you clenched your fists as he assumed a new position.

Everything was wrong. Everything was incorrect.

Both of you were breaking your own moral codes for each other.

And still, neither of you cared.

His arm coiled around your neck, choking you, while his free hand began to stroke your wet hair lovingly, giving you light slaps on the face whenever you closed your eyes. With his free hand, he held your chin, forcing you to look at him, and with all your attention on him, he shoved three of his fingers into your mouth, invading the small space without permission, making you gag as his thrusts became faster.

Each of his thrusts was a painful punishment you received with pleasure.

Oh, both of you were so fucked up.

Your moans and gasps were muffled by his hand in your mouth, while his loud, unabashed moans echoed throughout the bathroom, especially in your ear, which he nibbled whenever he felt like he was losing control over you.

“Nghhh,” you closed your eyes before they could even roll back, feeling everything you couldn’t express coming all at once.

“Owww,” his fingers left your mouth to give you a slap, forcing you to look at him. When you did, Satoru began to stroke your hair lovingly, the mockery evident in his words—“Are you gonna come, pet?”

“Mmmhm,” you nodded eagerly as his thrusts quickened.

“Then come, pet,” his lips pressed a kiss to your salty cheek, and you cried out in pleasure—“I give you permission.”

That was all you needed.

When his hips trembled, signaling his release, his moans mixed with yours, growing louder and more intense as you both came hard, soaking each other. His mouth latched onto yours, and once again, he bit your lips in promise, in a messy kiss filled with blood, betrayal, and hatred.

For a moment, neither of you moved, only your rapid breaths escaping your noses and mouths while both your hearts beat so hard they seemed ready to burst at any moment.

But the need for analysis was unnecessary for either of you.

Not when Satoru sedated you and dressed you, opening a portal in the middle of your room, a portal that took both of you to his house outside the city, far from the sorcerer’s school.

He didn’t stop to analyze things either when he locked you in his basement, chained you there, and placed a gag in your mouth so that when you woke up, you wouldn’t hurt yourself screaming for help.

Because no help would come.

Even with his heart still beating wildly in his chest, Satoru gave one last look at your sleeping, bound figure in his basement. Then, with a satisfied smile on his face, he turned around, closed the door, and left.

There was nothing left to restore his morality.

He had succeeded in corrupting you.

But you had nothing to fear.

Because you had corrupted him, too.

And the scream that echoed through his mansion once you awoke…

Confirmed it.

#jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu gojo #gojo x reader #jjk smut #jjk gojo #gojo satoru #gojo smut #gojo x y/n #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu satoru #jjk fanfic #jjk x reader #jjk

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abibliophobiaa · 1 year ago

Text

Summary: You’ve never been one for love. Especially after your last round with it. Halloween rolls around and in comes Eddie Munson. He’s only in town for a couple days, you’re looking for no strings, and chances are you’ll never see him again anyway.

Easy, right?

That is, until you end up with an unexpected party favor.

mini series masterlist

next chapter

——

warnings: alcohol; smut; unprotected p in v; unplanned pregnancy and associated symptoms; major miscommunication. eddie munson x afab!reader(7k words)

——

“You’ve been staring around for hours. No one is catching your eye? Not even slightly? You’re not doing brain surgery, you’re just trying to get your toes wet.”

You knew this. But the music had been too loud, the room too heated, your body tucked away against the bar as you sat beside your best friend, sipping on a watery margarita that the ice had long since dissolved into.

All around you people bobbed and swayed to ‘Monster Mash.’ Cliche by all means, and yet it felt fitting when you appraised the crowd once more and noted the mummy dancing with his zombified partner. Further out you caught a werewolf in a particularly compromising position with a vampire, and a group of clowns crowded together hosting what looked to be a meeting.

“What about that Westley guy?”

Right — the one everyone had been talking about all night. The man who had the nerve to dress up as the direct counterpart to your own costume. With a huff, you hiked your leg up, crossing one over the other against the stool. The red dress around you shifted and moved, fingers reaching to adjust the belt around your waist.

“I haven’t seen him.” You shrugged, taking another sip of your drink. “For all I know, he doesn’t exist.”

Micah glanced about the room once again, her makeshift halo wobbling on her head. Somewhere in the distance her boyfriend, Jeremiah, was invested in a deeply riveting conversation about football with some of his friends from college. All of which had dressed in their old football jerseys, dark lines drawn haphazardly under eyes, helmets covering heads. She lingered on him for a moment, and then glanced further over your shoulder, lips tugging upward into a devilish grin. Oddly fitting for the girl dressed as an angel.

“Actually, he’s right there.”

Gravity sent your heart tumbling into your gut. Silly, when you’d thought about it. Just because he’d worn a costume from one of your comfort movies didn’t mean he’d be anything special. Multiple pirates, doctors, and the occasional Michael Myers and Freddy Krueger had already attempted to rouse a conversation, only for it to fall flat. This could very well end up the same, and this night was lost to the turmoil of the inner workings of your mind, still reeling from the sting rumbling in your chest over the past few months.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

But it wasn't a joke when you swiveled around on your stool and faced him. Not at all. In a dimly lit bar, packed too tight with too many bodies bumping you to and fro even as you presently sat, you spotted him. Found the guy people had been mentioning all night as the other half of your ‘couple’s costume,’ saying you both looked amazing together, despite the fact none of them knew he was quite literally a stranger to you.

He sat at a lonesome table. Leaned on an elbow with a cheshire grin spread across the prettiest set of pink lips. His dark curly hair was tied behind his head, tucked into the mask that covered the upper half of his face. Even partially obscured like that, he was handsome, freezing you in place with those piercing brown eyes that were locked unwaveringly on your silhouette.

So he’d noticed you too. Inwardly, you were beaming. After two months of couch surfing and feeling sorry for yourself after a failed relationship wherein you’d walked on your partner of two years with someone who most definitely wasn’t you, you’d decided tonight was the night you’d get back out there. A night of fun, a night to meet someone new, to let loose a bit.

“What are you waiting for,” your friend Micah asked, shoving you forward with a hasty push. “He’s your Westley. If this isn’t some weird ass fate, I don’t know what is.”

Your Westley’s smile grew wider as you approached. Corners dragged upward to form that broad grin, bracketed by the sweetest set of dimples you’d ever seen on a man. Heart pounding a bit, you leaned up against the table, letting out a noncommittal huff. Puffed out a deep breath that caught his attention and had those chocolate brown eyes solely on you.

“Is this space taken?” you asked, and he dipped his head in greeting. “So you’re the guy everyone has been talking about all night.”

“Ah, yes,” he laughed, and you couldn’t help but to smile at the very sound. It’s a lovely, hearty sound. The kind of laugh that seemed dangerous, because you might like it too much. “And you’re the girlfriend I didn’t know I had.”

“You too, huh?”

“Yeah,” he echoed, taking a step closer. “Though it’s all very flattering. Prettiest Princess Buttercup here.” He dropped the lowest part into a whisper, “Definitely a compliment because, if I’m being honest, you’re way out of my league.”

Your cheeks burned with the compliment, feet fidgeting beneath you where you stood. He reached over and slid a chair beside his hip, patting the surface so you could hop on up and join him, a hand of his reaching out to steady you when you wobbled a bit. Another round of drinks were ordered and you learned quickly his name was Eddie and he’d been in town only for a couple weeks now. Had a few gigs in the city for the band he played in and would be off in another two days. Blew in and out like the storm that presently raged outside, wind howling, rain splashing against sidewalks, lightning painting the night sky in a shock of white before leaving it dark once more. He’d grown up in a small town, but realized he’d only ever had dreams that were too small for the walls he’d been raised in.

So he’d ended up on a short tour and would head off to California to start laying down tracks for the band’s first ever album. He sounded so hopeful and eager, so rejuvenated and excited about life, and it had you endeared to him. Drifting closer as the night went on and he asked you about your own life. Learned you grew up here in the city but craved something quieter, very much unlike him. You’d studied creative writing and English in college and wanted to write the stories people would one day know and love and shelve in their homes, but in the meantime you worked at a library. It wasn’t the most thrilling job, but it kept you abreast, and he regaled you with the endless fantasy titles he’d known and loved through the years.

It wasn’t long before the hours trickled on by and Micah approached the two of you with a sulking Jeremiah in tow. The latter of the two a little too inebriated based on the slight sway in his form and the hand Micah kept firmly planted around his forearm.

Her blue eyes flickered up at Eddie’s face, then drifted back to yours. “I’m taking this idiot home. He’s in time out —”

“Noooo,” he moaned, forehead pressing into the crook of his girlfriend’s neck.

“Are you coming back with me or…?” Micah’s eyes trailed back upward to Eddie once more, brows arched curiously.

Eddie looked at you and shrugged. “Up to you, Buttercup.”

“I’m gonna stay…actually.”

Micah nodded, giving you both one last glance over before tugging her boyfriend along behind her in the direction of the door. As she passed, she leaned up against the hollow of your ear and said loud enough over the music, “Be careful. Have fun. You’re beautiful and I love you and you deserve to enjoy yourself tonight, okay?”

Once they were gone your attention returned to the man swathed in black standing before you, shoulder bumping his. “It's too loud in here,” you shouted for emphasis, insides nearly rattling from the music booming from the speakers positioned about the room. “Is there somewhere we can go that’s a little more…”

“Private?” he asked, leaning down toward your ear. Chills skittered along your arms as his lips nearly brushed your skin there, gooseflesh pimpling in its wake. “I have a hotel room two blocks over. How do you feel about running?”

“Let’s go.” You grinned.

“As you wish.” He beamed, holding out a gloved hand for you to take.

Outside, the two of you huddled up beneath the small awning growing smaller by the second with the other patrons who had similar ideas of waiting for their rides and cabs or braving the fall storm head on and taking off into the soaked streets in their full Halloween costumes.

Laughter bubbled up from your lips as a particularly hard jolt against your back sent you tumbling into his form, a quick hand of his reaching out and curling low around your back. He tensed, eyes locked on yours, awaiting your response and you leaned further into him, relishing in the heat of his form.

Moments skittered by under the awning. His eyes roamed your form, dark and beautiful, ringed with those little crinkles that appeared in the corners whenever he smiled. He’d been smiling all night — at you, a thought that has little butterfly wings quivering low in your belly, and lower still at the suddenness of the desire ramping up in your bloodstream.

The glowing lights from the bar filter out onto the street. Flashed orange and red across Eddie’s features, painted him in vibrant color, highlighting the plushness of his lips, the curve of his jaw, the bump of his chin. Hesitant fingers reached up to brush at the curls tied behind his head, curled one of the ringlet strands around and around a fingertip, your forearm spreading over the space between his shoulders, around his neck until he pressed in closer to you. Those chocolate brown eyes flickered southward. Lingered on your lips briefly before traveling back up, asking that question without words. Your only answer was the upward tip of your mouth, leaning into the space, waiting to feel him warm against you.

Electricity danced in the moments shared between you. In the fingertips that pressed into his shoulder and gripped tight as his nose nudged at the space beside yours, your mouth tipping up closer to his. From here, you could smell the mint he’d tossed in his mouth on the way out, could feel the tremble of his breath against your sternum, feel the heat of it fanning over your lips.

But the kiss never came. Behind you, a group of friends pushed and shoved toward the front door, nearly sending you and Eddie into the sidewalk and out of the shelter provided by your awning. It dawned on you then, however begrudgingly, that maybe you should move, give others a space to wait for their vehicles, and start to head in the direction of his hotel room.

He seemed to agree, sliding his palm down your forearm to twine his fingers between yours. “Guess that’s our cue, huh?”

“Bet you’re glad you wore the equivalent of tights for pants today, huh?”

“Suppose it makes it easier for me to whisk you away in the night, now doesn’t it?” He barked out a laugh, and clutched your hand tighter, dragging you out onto the street and into the rain.

——

You were presently in the midst of what was officially the weirdest, most endearing hook up you’d ever had. Moments after rushing out into the busy city streets and getting absolutely drenched from head to toe, Eddie tugged you toward a grocery store, suggesting he had nothing back at the hotel. Had looked a little bashful about it, even when you reassured him it was fine and you’d manage without, though he wouldn’t hear any of it.

As a result, you trailed behind him, dress sopping wet and clinging to every inch of your body, helping gather some things you might need in between what you hoped would be an eventful afternoon. Water, snacks, and the like. He seemed so giddy with it, and you hated the way his dimple in his cheek had your heart and thighs clenching. You preferred only the latter of the two, and couldn’t afford yourself the emotional aspect that came along with the former.

Eventually you had both found yourselves in the frozen food aisle, his shoulder bumping yours, your fingers dancing in the spaces between the two of you, the anticipation of after burning brighter with every minute that passed.

“How do you think they know what…oh, I don’t know…Moose Tracks taste like?” Eddie asked, turning his head over his shoulder.

Fortunately for you, he’d removed his mask, revealing more of his features. Those curls that dangled along his brow line, the smattering of freckles along high cheekbones, the crinkled corners of his eyes whenever he smiled at you.

“What?” you asked, once more reminding yourself of just how differently this night was going than you’d originally anticipated.

“Like what makes a Moose Track a Moose Track?”

“I think it’s just a…mix of things that remind them of…you know what?” His eyes twinkled, and you shifted a little closer. It really sucked that he was cute — obnoxiously so. “I actually don’t know. But, I do think we have more than enough stuff here to feed an army. And I think the rain finally let up.”

“You want to head out?”

“I think we should,” you agreed, tugging him along behind you down the aisle, in search of the nearest check out line.

The walk to the hotel room reminded you both of what you’d intended for that evening. The curious glances you would catch him shooting your way, the way you’d do the same when he focused his attention ahead. It increased with every step closer to the looming building, the desire for closeness, to feel, to touch, to taste.

Burned brighter when he swiped his key card and you started shoving the things he’d brought inside of the mini fridge, before snatching two water bottles and placing them down on the bedside table. He whistled as you walked around the room, fingers snapping, one of his curls tucked against the fullness of his mouth.

“You know, we don’t have to do anything,” you reassured him, sensing the nervousness radiating from his form.

Those dark eyes settled on yours as you approached, palm coming up slowly to rest against his sternum, right where you could feel his heartbeat clanging against his ribs.

“It’s been a while,” he settled on, voice softer than it had been all evening, a tremorous quality catching your attention.

“We’ll go slow,” you promised, leaning up to finally, and happily, close the space between the two of you.

It felt like a long, shared exhale. The way he immediately knew which way to turn his head, how you liked for his calloused fingers to rest against your cheekbone, that you wanted to be as close as possible, pressed flush against his form. Your head swam as he turned you around and walked you backward until your backside thumped against the edge of the dresser positioned against the wall opposite the bed. Grunted as he reached a hand up the back of your neck and sought out that pesky zipper you wanted so badly pulled down.

As if he’d read your mind, the man in question gave the zipper a nice, hard tug and the fabric shifted and dropped around your shoulders, baring the similarly colored bra beneath. So maybe you’d gone shopping for your first foray back after your break up? Based on the darkened eyes honing in on the lacy fabric, you’d picked correctly.

“Such a shame,” he groaned against the curve of your collar bone, fingers pushing the dress down and onto the floor, “really liked that dress.”

“My turn,” you mused, fingers reaching forward to tug the tunic free from his obscenely tight pants.

He helped you with ease, arms lifting just enough to help pull it over his head, giggling as his endless mane of curls sprang free. Tattoos jumped to life before your eyes. The multiple on his arms and torso, some looking faded and older, likely done in someone’s house, and others freshly inked, leaving a tapestry of stories he’d likely tell you if you’d only had the time.

“Fuck it.” He reached down and cupped your jaw, bruising kiss after bruising kiss laid upon your mouth, your toes digging into the carpet below as pale fingers trailed down the center of your chest, and then lower still, pausing at the hem of your panties. “Can I touch you?”

You might burst into flames if he didn’t. “Please.”

“Never have to say please with me, Buttercup,” he said, fingers pushing past that lacy barrier until they met your flesh, knowing exactly what he’d find there. “Sweetheart…this all for me?”

“Don’t tease.”

A broken sigh spilled from your lips, fingers clutched tight around his forearm as those expert fingers dragged a slow circle around your clit before sliding back to your center, pushing in. Your head rolled back against the wall, heat blooming anew as he stepped closer into the circle of your thighs, watching the rapid rise and fall of your chest, enjoying the sounds made only for him, the slickness of your center practically pulling his fingers back in with every perfect thrust curled in that spot right where you needed him the most.

“Fuck, just like that, sweetheart,” he panted, mouth pressed tight to yours, grinning against your skin as you keened high and tight, creeping closer and closer to your edge.

And just when you’d thought you were about to explode into dozens of tiny stars like in the night sky above, Eddie stopped. You nearly cried out his name in your frustration, only to find him dropping down onto his knees in front of the dresser, capable hands tugging you closer to the edge, before he pushed the dainty fabric back to the side and swapped his fingers for his tongue.

One long stripe from center to clit was all you'd needed for the rubber band to snap. For the shaking to start, the chanting of his name like a mantra or a prayer to rouse the neighbors likely next door and alert everyone in the building to what magic Eddie had worked between your thighs.

“Not,” you gasped, leaning your head forward to rest against his heaving chest, “fair.”

“What’s not fair, sweetheart?”

“Too good at that.” Another rasped breath pooled from your lips, quieted by the sound of your lips pressing to his chest. Hazy eyes lifted to his face, a satisfied exhale slowing the rise and fall of your chest. “Get on the bed.”

“What do you —”

“On the bed,” you repeated, grinning wickedly as he backed up just enough so his kneecaps hit the mattress. “I want to look at you.”

And god, what a sight he was. Once you’d finally managed to tug his pants down, revealing the boxers beneath, you were rewarded with the fullness of Eddie Munson in the flesh. The narrow waist, the smattering of hair you kissed along his abdomen, the curve of his chest, the freckles along his chest and shoulders. Traced along the tattoos on his chest, the sides of his ribs, the one on his upper thigh, before dragging upward to slide over the increasingly — and massively impressive — hardened cock peeking out from the waistband of his boxers.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck,” he blew the words out on a shaky exhale as you squeezed a little tighter, gauging what he liked.

Your grin grew as you wiggled the remnants of his clothing off his hip and cupped the weight of him in your palm. Perfect. He was absolutely perfect, and you wanted so badly to show him just how much you thought so, sliding down further onto the edge of the bed, tongue dragging a long line up the underside, along that prominent vein that had him bucking upward off the bed.

“Can I, Eddie?”

He watched through hooded lashes as your eyes zeroed in on his leaking tip, thumb sliding over the pre-cum there, before gliding your palm in a slow downward motion around him. He nodded, breath nearly cutting off completely as you finally, and blessedly, welcomed him into your mouth, immediately knowing nothing would compare to this moment and this girl.

Ruined. You’d ruined him for others, your pretty smile around his cock driving him too swiftly to a precipice he didn’t want to see the end of. Not yet. “Wait, wait, wait. Fuck. Your mouth is perfect, sweetheart. But — mmm — I need you.”

He pulled you upward with a gentle hand on the back of your neck, rolling you over beneath him, tongue marking a path along your chest, the peaks of your nipples, the delicate skin of your abdomen. With each pass of his lips over your flesh, you sank deeper into the mattress, knee bent, foot digging into the space above his hip, drawing him close enough that you could feel his glistening, wet hardness brushing your abdomen.

“Someone’s impatient,” you teased, moaning as his finger circled your wet entrance. “Want you inside me.”

“Patience, Buttercup,” he practically purred, reaching over into the bedside table to find…nothing. “No. Oh shit. We didn’t get condoms. I’m such an idiot, I —”

“Shit,” you whimpered, jolting upright and nearly smashing your skull into his as he double checked the inside of the drawer. “What about your suitcase? Wallet?”

“I told you I don’t exactly do this often.”

Those dark brows knitted together on his forehead, fingers pinching at the bridge of his nose. You remembered then the fortunate and recent development of starting birth control after Micah suggested she could never live without it, and suddenly you wanted nothing more than to clasp your hands together and thank the heavens for the little pills you had back home in your friend’s bathroom.

“I’m on the pill,” you told him, swallowing the nervousness that grew with every beat of your heart. “And I’ve been tested recently. I’m clean.”

Maybe it was stupid. Maybe you should have known better.

“I’ve been tested since my last time too. I’m good,” he said, unmistakable desperation filling his voice.

“I don’t want to stop,” you whispered as he rolled onto his back.

“Me neither,” he agreed as you clambered over his lap and bracketed his hips with a thigh on either side.

Lured with the wonderful bliss that was Eddie Munson’s lips warm and plus against yours, you gripped him in hand and slowly lowered yourself down onto him, completely bare. There was something so raw about the moment. About the shuddered breath you both released, the way his hands cupped your hips as he pushed in deeper than you ever thought possible, his voice a broken mix of ‘that’s a good girl,’ ‘taking me so well,’ ‘look so good full of my cock,’ as you move over him.

You wanted to hate that you end up doing something between fucking and making love. For something so casual, it feels almost too intimate, the way you collided together like two pieces fitted together of a puzzle that had only been missing those parts.

And it wasn’t gentle, his fingers clutched in your flesh, feet planted on the bed as he eventually pounded up into you — but it was also somehow tender. A complicated mess, just like the shattered pieces of your heart as he groaned one last time and urged you to come with him, pulling you closer in his arms. His fingers circled your clit until you cried his name and clenched down around him, whimpering at the warmth of him spilling inside.

As you both drifted back to reality, he maneuvered around the bed and washed himself from between your thighs. Cooed when you winced at the cold contact, dropping a kiss against your forehead and telling you that it had started storming again. He could either call you a cab or you could stay the night, he’d suggested. You hadn’t anticipated spending the night with him, but after he dug around for the ice cream and M&Ms you got from the supermarket, you found you couldn’t say no to him.

Especially when he turned on the television and, funnily enough, The Princess Bride was on. Fate, or something more, seemed to laugh in your face. Gleeful as you sprawled out beneath the covers naked as the day you were born beside the man who you quickly learned enjoyed handfuls of popcorn mixed with his sweet chocolate treats.

It didn’t take long before he’d grown hard again, the lights dimmed and the food forgotten, your soft sighs and pleasured peals filling the room as he pushed in and watched as your eyes rolled back and back arched prettily for him.

And later, after you were both satiated and satisfied, you fell asleep to the sounds of Inigo Montoya’s famous speech, and the gentle inhales and exhales of the man sprawled out beneath you.

——

Daylight streamed in through the olive curtains positioned against the wall across from you. You hadn’t noticed them last night. Hadn’t noted the wooden walls, the pale ceiling above, nor the cream bedspread across your hips. Hadn’t noticed a lot of things, it seemed, other than the man who dozed behind you, tattooed arm slung low around your waist, keeping you in close.

Fallen asleep — you’d both fallen asleep watching The Princess Bride, much to your grunted amusement as you shifted up and into a sitting position. Eddie’s arm thumped onto the bed, leaving a wrinkled mess around his sinewy forearm. Sparing a glance over your shoulder, you took in the curve of his jaw. The way he looked more boyish than his nearly thirty years, lips parted in a sleepy breathing pattern, curls strewn all about his face. A smile graced your lips, fingers of yours rolling over the curve of his back, the heft of his shoulder, the breadth of his bicep.

Part of you craved curling back up beside him. Wanted to feel his mouth roving over yours, across your skin, between your thighs once more. Would probably dream about the way his face had scrunched up in pleasure before he came apart beneath you last night for weeks to come. But your eyes noticed the time ticking on the far wall, alerting you that work started in two hours. Some weekend reading activity for the children in your town you’d volunteered to work weekend hours for; hindsight, as they say, was twenty-twenty.

“She’s running away in the night,” he grumbled beside you, mouth rolling over to press into the pillow you had slept soundly on for a shocking eight hours, letting out a loud yawn. You couldn’t recall the last time you’d done so. That curly head of hair lifted, too-long strands falling into his gaze as he pinched one eye shut and glanced toward the giant bedroom window. “Or…morning, I guess?”

“I have work,” you said, reaching over to snatch your underwear from off the floor.

He watched with rapt attention as you whirled around and clasped your bra into place, cheeks burning despite the fact he’d seen every inch of you merely hours ago. The man propped himself up onto one elbow, your eyes catching the bat tattoos on his arm as his fingers reached over to curl around your hip, dragging you back down into bed.

Soon enough it was loud giggles, his fingers dancing along your sides, noisy kisses against your own. But it didn’t take long before you were reduced to breathy sighs. His fingers against the span of your hips, his chest pressing yours into the mattress. Lips over yours, against your cheek, the curve of your throat, the hollow between your breasts, the valley of your abdomen. He stopped with a nip along your hip bone, tongue laving over the sensitive skin there.

“Do you have to go?” he groaned against your stomach, placing a final kiss there before crawling back up your body and cradling the back of your head with one hand, his body weight perched on the other elbow, face hovering over your own. Pretty, he was so damn pretty and you wished you could hate him for it.

“I guess I have a few minutes,” you suggested coyly.

And it was all Eddie needed before he had you beneath him once more singing a tune he knew he’d never forget.

You dressed in silence after. He pulled on a fresh pair of jeans and a thin sweater while you glanced at the wrinkled heap of your dress from the night before. It hadn’t dawned on you the complications of getting your feet wet on Halloween — at least, not until now.

“I can’t walk back to Micah’s in that,” you groaned, pointing to the messy ball of fabric on the floor.

“Wait — I have an idea!”

Eddie rummaged around a box in the far corner of the room and tossed a tee shirt your way. Across the front was ‘Corroded Coffin’ in a messy font that reminded you of how your brain often felt after one too many cups of coffee in the morning.

“Your band?” you asked, turning the shirt around to show him.

“Yeah.” He nodded, white teeth flashing with his smile. “You know, you could see us some time.”

You quickly slipped the dress over your head and let the skirt ruffle messily along the floor, then moved to roll up the billowy sleeves to your shoulders.

“I can’t say that I’ll be in California any time soon,” you told him, pulling the tee over your head next and draping it over the belt. Like this, it looked more like an oddly fitted skirt and a top. You already decided that was much better than a Halloween costume, so it would do until you got home and could change.

He nodded rapidly, like he knew that, but hadn’t realized that you’d be coasts apart in only a couple of days.

“Well…” he trailed off, searching around the bedside table for a moment.

Once he procured a pencil and a piece of paper, he scribbled down a string of numbers you immediately knew were the hope for something more from a boy with kind eyes, a beautiful smile, and a heart of gold. Your chest ached. If only you’d met him two years ago, at a better time, in a place where you were more open to whatever this could not be.

“My number — for the place I’ll be staying at for the next couple months,” he explained, tucking it into the exposed circle of your palm, closing your fist within his fingers. “Maybe, I don’t know…we can talk?”

“I can do talking,” you conceded, already hating the fact you knew you wouldn’t be utilizing the number.

It was better this way; he was better off this way.

You both parted with a kiss in the doorway. With his arms looped low around your waist in a way that felt too familiar. A way that suffocated, heart twisting at the soft smile that graced his pretty mouth when he wished you a good shift and you wished him a safe flight.

The walk home was all inward grins that flowed on your face until it hurt. Waves to random strangers passing on the street, curious gazes from onlookers at the billowing sleeves you kept shoving up into your tee shirt as you passed. Memories of the night before flashed in your mind. Of his fingers tugging the zipper on the dress, tossing your underwear alongside his on the floor, mouth on yours, hands learning the contours of your body, the way he fitted perfectly inside you.

Another time, another place, another day maybe.

And that day was not today.

Micah was sprawled across the kitchen island when you entered. You shut the door as quietly as possible behind you, only to find she’d already been awake anyway. A cup of likely long gone cold coffee rested beside her along with a bottle of painkillers, her forehead pressed against the cool tile, nursing what you imagined had to be the headache from hell.

“You’re home late,” she grumbled, pushing her head up into her hands. Blonde hair spilled around her forearms, face covered behind her palms. “I’m assuming you had a good time. Which will at least make one of us. Jere passed out as soon as we got home and snored all night.”

“Sorry, sweetie,” you apologized, stepping further into the kitchen, opening the refrigerator immediately for some water. “I…we had fun.”

“I’m going to need you to spill, because he was cute even with the mask. Don’t think I didn’t notice,” she mused, suddenly healed of her headache, what with the way she looked at you like she’d received the best news of her life.

“I accomplished exactly what I wanted to. I got my toes wet.” You shrugged, lathering some butter onto a freshly toasted bagel.

“You like him,” she screeched, making her own self wince at the sheer volume of it.

You did. You do. But those feelings would fade. Your resolve had already hardened because he wanted romance and flowers and you needed no strings. He deserved that much — he deserved so much.

“We had sex, that’s all. And he’s leaving for California in a few days. I’m never going to see him again. So it doesn’t really matter, now does it?”

——

It hadn’t felt real. For days, you’d doubted every symptom. Every inkling that might have alluded to your present condition.

First, it had been the realization that your period was late. Not even the one or two days you would have pushed aside as a result of stress, the extra hours you’d taken up at work to try and save a little money here and there for a new apartment, or your severe lack of sleep. Then, the nauseousness started. In waves, most days, and definitely not only in the mornings like you’d been led to believe your whole life. Your chest ached next; a fullness that felt unlike your normal, monthly symptoms. Chalked it up to your oncoming period. The same period by that point was nearly two weeks delayed. There was also the fact that no matter how much you slept, you’d still felt like it wasn’t enough. Found yourself dozing off at work, yawning standing in the line for groceries, losing focus while out with friends.

There was also the fact statistics were on your side. You’d done all the right things and were on birth control at the time. So it couldn’t be…that, right? Statistically improbable, unlikely, unwarranted. At least, that was what you had chosen to reassure yourself with, quieting the shouting in your skull that suggested otherwise.

It wasn’t until you were sprawled out against that obnoxiously crinkly white paper in the doctor’s office a little over a month after Halloween that you’d even allowed the thought to enter your mind. It also happened to be the first moment you wondered if you were about to have the entirety of your life changed by a night with a boy in too tight pants you’d definitely not thought about even once since you’d spent the night with him. And you most definitely didn’t picture his dark pupils expanding in the night as you rolled over him, his palms gripping your hips, your hands on his chest, heads thrown back in shared ecstasy.

No.

Not at all.

Six weeks, they told you, with sympathetic looks and uncertain smiles as you exhaled shakily and stared up at the ceiling to stop the room from spinning out of control around you. Six weeks pregnant and undoubtedly so, based on the rapid thrum of the baby’s heartbeat on the screen before you. Strong, they’d said. Perfectly healthy for someone at this point in your pregnancy. They printed pictures up for you of the tiny gummy bear with arms and you held it in trembling hands as they began to speak. Words strung together to form sentences you’d barely understood. Options for next steps, vitamins to take, habits to stop, foods to eat and foods to avoid, how much caffeine to drink, how much weight you could lift and what activities you should start to limit—your head spun with it and continued the whole quiet walk home back to Micah’s place she shared with her boyfriend, Jeremiah.

She welcomed you with open arms as you entered their apartment with a pamphlet on pregnancy in one hand and your pocketbook in the other, whimpered cries of not knowing what to do soaking through her knitted sweater. She’d accepted it without hesitation, just as she always did and would. Held you close to her chest — and hissed at Jeremiah to leave when he’d eventually poked his head in — as you processed the emotions swirling like an endless kaleidoscope in your mind.

And later, when your tears had dried and she’d plopped a freshly opened box of ice cream in your lap and demanded you eat, she asked, “Please just…tell me it’s absolutely Westley’s and not Paul’s.”

“Six weeks,” you sighed, watching her shoulders relax. There was no mistaking who the baby’s father was, and at least that brought you some comfort, “Definitely Westley’s.”

Though you weren’t sure if that made it any better.

“I just want you to know it’s going to be okay,” Micah reassured you, reaching over to rub at your forearm. But did she really know that? How could she? Because to you, it felt like the earth had fallen out of orbit, spinning dizzily now with no signs of stopping any time soon. “I know we don’t have the most space right now, but the couch turns into a futon. It’s yours until you find something otherwise, you know that.”

Telling Eddie his world was (potentially) about to change happened two weeks later. You needed some time to process, is what you’d told yourself was the reason why you’d delayed. After hours of debating, you decided to keep it, and knew that there was always the chance Eddie didn’t want kids — always the chance he’d want to pretend it never happened and that he didn’t want to be a part of its life. Regardless of what he chose, you’d set your mind on being a mother, and you’d do it alone if you had to. But he at least deserved to know; deserved the option of choosing them, even if all you’d had was a night fueled by lust, because you weren’t interested in anything more than that.

Fear had clamped your mouth shut, preventing you from forming those two words for fourteen days. Just two simple words that would have opened the dam to let in the floodgates for the conversation that needed to happen.

Eddie, I’m pregnant.

I’m pregnant.

You’d rehearsed it all afternoon, pacing a certifiable hole in the ground from how rapidly you’d moved. Had even stood in front of your friends and had them listen to it until you felt confident enough to do it for real. Gripped Micah’s hand tight as you swiped the man’s number from your pocketbook and dialed. It rang once, then twice, and you worried he wouldn’t answer or you’d caught him at a bad time when the line exploded with sound. Voices. Dozens of voices spilled through the other line, and music along with it.

You winced. “Uhm, Eddie? Is this the right number?”

A long pause extended, drowned out by guitar strings and drum beats. “Uh — uh, yeah. This is him.”

He sounded gruffer than you remembered — voice tinged with a smokier quality that seemed almost unfamiliar to you now. Not that you’d spoken much that night. Maybe he’d caught something, maybe he was sick. Maybe it was merely the weeks that had grown on since you’d seen him, and he'd become another person in the crowd already — someone you knew if only for a night. Heart pounding, you gripped Micah’s hand tighter and wound the phone wire around a pointed fingertip.

“Hi…I’m sorry I’m only calling now. Busy, you know?” A lie, because you’d never intended to call. It had been one night; that was all it was ever meant to be. “It’s the…girl from the party. The Buttercup to your Westley costume on Halloween.”

He chuckled in reply, and you wondered if maybe he was shy. He’d been looser the night you met — louder. Boisterous and passionate. Carefree and fun. But you wondered briefly if that was the glass of whiskey he’d drunk before you slipped away to his hotel room hearing him now. But you remembered that next morning, too; his splendid affection, the kissing, the exuberance of his persona, the way he’d made you fall apart around him again.

It seemed…strange now. Cut off, cold even.

“I’m…pregnant. I just —” You swallowed the knot of fear forming in the back of your throat and continued, “I just thought you should know…because it’s yours.”

There was another prolonged pause.

Nervousness welled up in your throat the longer it continued. Joined that roiling nausea that had become your friend and foe these weeks. Swallowing thickly, your fingers pressed over the span of your abdomen, over the knitted sweater and skin protecting your tiny secret — still not visible to others yet, but wholly your own all the same. You’d already decided you would love them fiercely enough for the both of you if he didn’t want anything to do with it, just so they’d never feel like they were missing out.

Then, after what felt like decades, he asked, “Who is this again?”

You repeated your name, nervousness rattling your bones, fingers trembling in Micah’s. Micah mouthed out ‘Breathe,’ even though you were doing anything but.

The line went dead, and your heart along with it.

——

let me know what you think! 🩷

#lunaloveseddie #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson fanfiction

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poisonlove · 1 year ago

Note

can you write a fem reader x tara fic where reader is anika’s best friend or sister or something and anika wants to introduce reader to the group

Oh yes, I really like the idea, haha. I just hope you like what I've come up with. Sorry for the delay, but sooner or later, I'll write every request. 😊

The night we met | t.c

tara carpenter x reader

"Excuse me, sorry," I uttered with difficulty, trying to navigate through the crowd.

I found myself at the fraternity party in New York, immersed in the atmosphere of loud music and an air filled with a mix of sweat and grass. It was Halloween, and the guys were dressed up, adding a touch of eccentricity to the party. The noise of laughter and music served as a background as I struggled to make my way through the crowd, eager to reach my destination amid the festive chaos.

I released a sigh of relief as I made my way through the crowd, and finally, in the center of the party I saw a familiar scene. My best friend, Anika, was sitting on a small couch with a girl. It was clear that she was Anika's girlfriend considering how Anika had her legs stretched over hers, and the girl's hand was absentmindedly caressing Anika's leg.

I approached with a smile, happy to have found my destination amidst all the festive chaos.

"Hey," I said smiling at my best friend. Anika gave me a beautiful smile as soon as our eyes met.

"Mindy... this is y/n, my best friend," Anika introduced, pointing in my direction. "y/n, this is Mindy, my girlfriend," she announced, smiling broadly and giving a playful look to her girlfriend.

"Pleasure to meet you," I said in a loud voice, trying to make myself heard amidst the party's noise.

"The pleasure is mine," Mindy replied with a smile, looking at me with curious eyes.

"Cute costume," she noted immediately, looking me up and down with a mischievous smile. "Certainly... frightening," she added laughing under her breath.

"Thank you," I replied, slightly embarrassed. Perhaps Harry Potter wasn't the most suitable choice for this situation, now that I think about it.

"I'm going... going to get something to drink," I said, leaning toward Anika, who nodded in agreement.

I made my way through the crowd again, heading towards the drink counter a few meters away. While walking, a girl who was dancing accidentally elbowed me, making me lose my balance and collide with someone.

"Oh my god, I'm sorry," I immediately said after regaining my balance, looking up to apologize to the person I had bumped into.

When my eyes met hers, I was mesmerized. Before me stood a girl dressed as a pirate, with brown hair cascading to her shoulders.

"Don't worry, it's fine," she said calmly, indicating that she was unharmed by our collision. Her eyes, glazed from alcohol, analyzed me more closely.

I responded with a slightly embarrassed smile.

The girl with a smile on her face approached me even more causing my heartbeat to quicken. The height difference between us became evident as we looked into each other's eyes. Her presence, heightened by the festive atmosphere and the effect of alcohol, created an aura of curiosity and excitement.

The pirate, tilting her head, raised her hands to my face. With a confident and gentle gesture, she adjusted my round glasses.

"There you go, much better," she said laughing softly.

"TARA!"

The voice resonated in the chaos of the party and I immediately turned my gaze towards the sound. I saw Tara turning, revealing her well-defined jaw, upturned nose, and full lips.

"Everything okay?" Mindy asked, directing the question to Tara and showing a slight concern as I turned to see.

Tara's brown eyes turned back in my direction, radiant with brightness and fascination. "Let's go get something to drink, Pottah," she said, smiling widely, and a slight giggle escaped when she pronounced "Potter" with an English accent.

"That's what I wanted to do, Elizabeth Swann," I replied, amused.

Tara raised an eyebrow with curiosity, her scrutinizing gaze fixed on me. "Swann?" she asked with genuine curiosity. "Oh... it was a reference to Pirates of the Caribbean, you know... like a matching costume to your pirate outfit,"

I was grateful that the room was relatively dark, allowing me to conceal my embarrassment.

Tara chuckled softly. "Got it, I was teasing you." She raised a hand, shaking it timidly while she spoke.

"Could I have another?" she asked the person behind the counter, genuinely smiling. It was only then that I realized Tara already had a glass in her hand.

"There's none left," the guy behind the counter replied.

And that's when a certain guy approached with a flirtatious smile. "Hey beauties... I'm Edward," the guy said, but he only looked at Tara. "Y/n," I said, annoyed. "Tara," the girl replied with a smile on her lips.

My eyes rolled slightly without making a sound.

"In the kitchen, there's something to drink... if you want," Edward affirmed, giving me a dazzling smile t

Tara and i along with Edward, made our way to the kitchen to get something to drink. As I took a sip, the strong, bitter taste of alcohol made me scrunch up my nose. Meanwhile, Edward was openly flirting with Tara, creating a tense and uncomfortable atmosphere that made me wish I were elsewhere.

The guy put an arm around Tara's waist, causing clear discomfort to the brunette.

It was clear that the guy wanted to take Tara upstairs. With a pleading look, Tara asked me to help her in that embarrassing situation. Her expression reflected a mixture of discomfort and hope as she sought a way out of that embarrassing situation.

"Hey!" I said seriously, putting my hand on Edward's arm.

The guy, obviously tipsy, looked at me confused, smiling mischievously. "If you want to come too, I won't complain," he chuckled quietly.

"Let go of Tara," I said seriously, tightening my lips at the disgusting proposition. "She doesn't want to," I added, shooting a glance at the pirate.

"Potter..." Edward muttered weakly. "I'll make her change her mind," he concluded, smiling.

"Tara! Let's go home," Anika intervened, looking at the guy attentively.

"He won't let her go," I said nervously, noticing how Tara looked at me with bright eyes, perhaps trying to hold back tears.

"Tara stays here," a guy intervened. Mindy was next to him.

a statuesque cowboy.

I raised an eyebrow in confusion thinking that maybe he was the pirate girl's boyfriend.

"Come on, Chad... we just want to have some fun," the guy said, his face red from alcohol.

"She stays here," the guy reiterated seriously, approaching the stairs.

Edward, climbing two steps, made Tara lose her balance, clearly not wanting to follow him. The sudden movement surprised her, and her expression reflected a combination of fear and disorientation as she tried to maintain stability. Edward's firm grip on her arm seemed more like an attempt to drag her than a supportive gesture, adding an element of constraint to the embarrassing situation Tara found herself in.

Tara grimaced, trying to hide the pain as Edward insisted on dragging her up the stairs.

In the blink of an eye, the situation escalated as Chad grabbed Edward by the shirt, attempting to force him to step down. Edward, trying to retaliate, eventually let go of Tara. With a swift motion, the pirate sought refuge in my arms, trying to regain balance after the unexpected turmoil. The tension in the air was palpable as gazes clashed, with Tara still a bit disheveled but clearly grateful to have escaped from that unwanted aggression.

"Take her outside," Anika said seriously. Without saying anything, I found myself walking with Tara against my body toward the exit of the house.

Outside, silence reigned supreme, broken only by the occasional passing car. The starry sky shone, and the full moon illuminated the night. The cold made Tara shiver slightly, enveloped in the quiet of the evening.

"Are you okay?" I asked with concern.

Tara looked at me, smiling and nodding.

I decided to take off my tunic, a sort of jacket I was wearing, and offered it to her. In short sleeves and jeans, I noticed the cold was starting to be felt a bit.

"Take this, it might help you warm up," I suggested, offering my tunic to Tara in the hope that it could give her at least some comfort.

Tara raised the corners of her lips, putting on the coat I had given her and looking at me with a grateful expression.

She swayed slowly towards me, resting her hands on my shirt. Her gaze was directed at me with her chin slightly lifted. A mixture of vulnerability and gratitude reflected in her eyes.

"Thank you," she said timidly.

My cheeks tinged with red due to the proximity, and Tara smiled sweetly. With a sloppy attempt, the girl tried to stand on tiptoe, causing a laugh from me for her effort.

Tara pouted, but it was amusing to see the slightly tipsy girl.

Tara's hands moved gently on my face, removing my glasses.

With a smile on my lips, I watched as the girl pushed her glasses up on her head, looking at me curiously. My smile faded when I saw Tara lean forward, eager to press her lips to mine.

"Tara... you're drunk," I said, smiling amusedly. "And I'm a girl," I clarified, not wanting Tara in her state to overlook the situation.

For heaven's sake, I was gay, but I didn't want to kiss a drunk straight girl.

"And so what? I've noticed," she replied, smiling, biting her lower lip. "I just want to kiss you," she affirmed, amused.

Her hand caressed the lightning-shaped scar on my forehead. "You're extremely sexy with this costume," she murmured.

"You have a boyfriend," I said with a slightly irritated tone, remembering a certain Chad. Tara gave a wide smile, shaking her head. "I don't have a boyfriend," she said amusedly.

"In any case, you're drunk," I reiterate, amused, sensing how Tara smelled of alcohol and most likely a perfume."Maybe you can give me a kiss when you're conscious of your actions," I whispered, brushing a strand of hair from her forehead.

"Pottah, kiss your Hermione," she blurted out with a smile on her lips, and I rolled my eyes at her comment. "Actually, it's Ginny," I said, smiling slightly. "Whatever it is," mumbled Tara.

"Another time," I added, smiling at her amusing behavior.

Tara sighs loudly and leans against my chest, wrapping her arms around my body in search of warmth. My eyes curiously scanned the exit of the house, but the smile faded from my face when I saw Anika's eyes looking at me mischievously from a distance. Her girlfriend did the same, and the only one confused was the guy next to them.

Oh, crap. I'm in for an unpleasant interrogation.

#jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega #jenna ortega x you #jenna ortega x fem!reader #jenna ortega x y/n #tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter #scream 6 #party dress #drunk #Tara drunk #jenna marie ortega

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dixonsbrat · 1 year ago

Text

𖥔 𝐓𝐄𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 𖥔

𝐢𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 ; steve has been admiring you for some time now, and you’ve been wanting him too, but one halloween party finally pushes you both to make a move.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 ; steve harrington × fem!reader, nsfw, pet-names (baby), self-fingering and female orgasm, mentions of bodily fluids, cussing, dirty talk, mentions of alcohol (let me know if i forgot any)

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 ; 2.9k .ᐟ

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 ; posted from my old acc x

droplets of sweat gathered on the nape of your neck, pooling in the valley between your breasts, as you danced in the middle of the crowded room. the music was loud, almost too loud, but there was an undeniable electricity in the air. not from the atmosphere or the array of eyes on you from people you had never met. not even the alcohol that coursed through your system, but only between you and him.

him, steve harrington, the only person whose attention truly mattered.

you could feel his deep, lust-filled gaze boring into you from across the room, watching you so intently you were sure you were going to combust. he stood leaning up against the wall in the far corner, one arm raised to steady himself while the other held a cup to his lips. he adorned a recycled halloween costume as robin remained by his side, talking about who knows what, but despite the little nod here and there, all he could focus on was you.

steve loved watching you. he loved watching the way your body moved to the music. he loved watching the way you would meet his gaze, the slightest glint of a smirk tugging at your lips before continuing to pretend that he wasn't even there. he specifically loved watching the way your skirt would hitch up your thighs the same way it would whenever you went into his work.

he was sure he was the reason behind it. no, he knew he was the reason behind it. that you would purposely pull your skirt higher just for him, and even more so when you would bend over in the aisles pretending to look for something on the bottom shelf. being well aware that he was the only one that could see you.

he knew what you were doing — that you knew what you were doing — stringing him along and playing hard to get. you were challenging him. you weren't giving in to him like every other girl that looked his way recently.

you were making him work for it - for you.

except tonight he had other plans. tonight, he was finally going to get what he wanted. at least, so he thought.

"listen, i know it was my idea to crash this party, but it's kinda lame," eddie joins you, disrupting your dancing and slowing down your movements. "y'wanna find the others and get out of here?"

eddie was right. the party itself was lame. the only thing giving you any sort of entertainment was the free alcohol and the look on steve's face; steve who had now disappeared from where he stood only a moment ago as you peer over your friend's shoulder.

the munson boy waits for you to answer, your attention now absent from the conversation as you scanned the room rapidly but there was no sign of him anywhere. eddie repeats his question, but it's not until he snaps his impatient fingers in your face that you finally return to him.

"c'mon, let's find steve and robin and we'll go back to mine. can finally show you that new riff i learnt on the guitar," he imitates playing his sweetheart, hair bouncing in an unruly mess, as more bystanders begin to stare.

you laugh, giving him a slight nudge, "okay, munson. i'll search upstairs, you search downstairs."

the two of you pan off in different directions, you heading for the staircase by the front door as he began in the kitchen. as you pushed your way through the crowd, weaving yourself to the entryway, you spot robin at the bottom of them, but still no sign of steve.

you call her name, but your voice falls on deaf ears over the music. she twirls around, hands fidgeting with the hem of her shirt when she finally spots you and a relieved smile bestows upon her lips.

"we're gonna go back to eddie's. where's steve?" you raise your voice, leaning towards her ear so that she could hear you.

"he went upstairs. something about needing a moment away from the music,” she gestures upstairs where there were far less people. "i'll go get him."

she turns to head up the stairs but your hand catches her arm before she can so much as put her foot on the bottom step, "it's okay, i'll get him. you go find eddie and we'll meet you at his van."

robin nods, though there seems to be a knowing look in her eyes, a hint of a smirk as if there were some obvious secret only you didn't know about, and she traipses off toward the kitchen in search of eddie.

once alone, you take one look up the large staircase and let out a deep breath. this was it, this was the moment you were finally going to tell steve that if he truly wanted you so bad, it was about time he did something about it.

with each step, your heart seems to beat a little bit faster. the top of the stairs growing further away and when you finally get to them, there are only a couple of small groups of people scattered along the balustrade. you weave your way through the crowd once more to find the bathroom and just as you're about to knock, it opens before your hand can graze the wood with your knuckles.

steve stands on the other side, eyes widening when he sees you, but the sight of him causes the breath in your throat to catch. his dishevelled hair, deep pink lips and dark eyes entrapped by a red tinge - he was truly a sight for sore eyes.

"y/n," your name falls off the tip of his tongue like sweet honey, sending an immediate wave of bumps across your skin. "are you okay?" he looks almost concerned, brows furrowing when it takes you a moment to answer.

"uh, yeah. we're going to ditch the party and, um, and..." you pause for a beat, words turning to a jumbled mess inside your head and all the confidence you had tried to bestill had disappeared. "... um, head back to eddie's. we're going to head back to eddie's." you repeat it a second time for safe measure.

he nods, slowly, his eyes purposely falling to your lips as he exhales and leans back against the doorframe, "yeah. i mean, we could do that..." his words are even slower, pulling you in with each syllable. "or... we could talk about what's really going on here?"

this was it. this was the moment he was finally going to do something about it.

"i have no idea what you're talking about." you lift your right shoulder into a shrug, pursing your lips before gazing up at him through your lashes.

his lips part as he leans in closer, his face so close you could feel his alcohol-saturated breath on your cheek. "so, i'm just imagining you pulling up that pretty little skirt of yours on purpose, huh?"

you almost gasp, throat tightening with need. need for him. "apparently... though, it's nice to know you've been thinking about me."

the devilish grin on your face now infuriates him because, once again, you were in control.

a breathy chuckle leaves his lips, fingers raking through his hair, "what am i going to do with you?"

"i don't know. what are you going to do with me?" a moment of realisation passes through his eyes. you want him to do something about it, want him to finally give in to the urges. all this time, he had been waiting, and now, here you were, allowing him to have what had been torturing him.

while his head races with a million thoughts, in reality, only seconds had passed by, but those few seconds were more than enough to build a wall of tension. his gaze falls to your lips once more, and in a heated movement of passion, he finally takes the leap and presses his to them.

soft moans reverberate through his neck, daring to carry you away as your fingers curl through his hair. you press yourself against him, almost knocking him over, but he answers your neediness and pulls you into the bathroom to close the door and lock it.

all the tension, flirty looks and suggestive gestures that had been building up over the past few months had finally started to unravel in a matter of seconds. igniting you both so much so that you were sure to catch fire.

the kisses seem to last forever, despite feeling rushed, and when he starts to trail his lips down the side of your neck, you're left a hot mess as you try to regain your breath. your core was already aching for attention, throbbing within your underwear, as his hands ran rampant all over your body.

he glides his tongue across your skin, hair tickling your face as he begins to suck lightly, "you've no idea what you've done to me. how badly i've wanted this." he mumbles against you, sparking thought in your mind, and at this, you gently push him away and slide yourself back on the counter.

"is that so?" you breathe heavily. "tell me about it."

there's a glint of confusion in his eyes, brows slightly furrowing, as he stands between your legs. you had so much power over him and you planned to keep it that way.

if you gave in to him so easily, all the long months you had spent teasing and hinting at him would've been for nothing. he needed to know that you weren't going to give yourself up to him just because he wanted it - he needed to earn you.

"d'you really want me, harrington?" your words are low, breathy, sending shivers down his spine as he gazes into your eyes.

"fuck," he nods, the word shakily falling from his lips and he swallows hard. "i want you so bad."

your lips quirk up once again, heart beating so fast it was thrumming in your ears. you lean forward, lips barely grazing his, and whisper, "tell me what you want... while you watch me touch myself." before planting your teeth around his bottom lip and tugging on it.

"w-what?" there's a hitch in his voice as you feel yourself growing wet within the confines of your underwear. he's stunned. eyes wide and jaw taut.

"tell me what you want, and i'm yours, but... touch me, and you lose." your words are barely above a whisper but they're enough to send shivers down his body.

his breath catches in his throat, letting out a small gasp, as his dewy brown eyes bore into you once again. only this time, there was determination clouding them. he wanted you. he wanted you so bad, and he was going to do everything he could to get you - to finally feel you.

he opens his mouth to speak but stops when you lean back against the mirror, hitching your skirt up and spreading your legs before him. revealing the black lace underwear you had worn in anticipation. the same pair that he had only ever caught glimpses of.

"what's the matter, harrington? you like watching me... don't you?" you ask, coyly, batting your lashes.

he groans, lulling his head back to reveal his adam's apple bobbing as he swallows once more. you lift a finger to touch the tip of his chin, letting it trail down his chest before landing between your legs. he watches your hand as if his life depended on it.

you slowly trace the edges of your underwear where your core was barely covered. lips poking out around the thin material, gathering up your wetness when your finger starts to rub small circles over the top of them.

"are you wet?" steve asks, and you nod, brows arching from the touch already.

he shuffles nervously on his feet, pulling at the material around his crotch to give himself more growing space, but his eyes never leave you. not for a second. and they only double in size when you finally move your panties to the side, confirming your answer - your sweetness glistening under the dim bathroom glow.

"holy f-fuck, y/n," he retorts with astonishment, almost falling to his knees at the sight of you before him. "you're killing me here."

"tell me more," you press the tips of your fingers to your tongue, collecting the saliva that had gathered, and gently start moving them across your sweet little bundle of nerves.

"you're so fucking pretty, baby. i bet you're so warm too. i bet your pretty little pussy is so fucking warm," his words caress your ears as your movement starts to speed up, building up the sensation in your core. "i want you so bad. i want to feel you wrapped around my cock. every fucking inch of you."

a small chuckle falls from your lips, as you now press your middle finger into your hole. moaning at the feeling and slowly you begin to fuck yourself, all while steve's eyes remain trained on you. catching a glimpse of you fingering yourself but focusing on your facial expressions and the way you're making your own mouth fall open with ecstasy.

"fuck your little hole, baby," he says, almost demandingly, which again makes you want to prove that you were still in control. so you add another finger. "fucking hell, i want to taste you so bad."

"mmm-yeah? you wanna taste me, harrington? you wanna know what my pretty little pussy tastes like?" your words are slightly muffled, as you continue to penetrate yourself. fingers gliding in and out of your goodness with ease, hitting just the right spot as the top of your palm rubs your clit, causing your hips to buck up a little.

his hand involuntarily falls to his crotch, he didn't think you noticed. but it was a little hard not to when he begins palming himself through his pants as his eyes burned with so much desire. desire for you.

you can feel the coil within your core on the verge of breaking, ready to snap as you near your end. the pleasure of it all becoming too much, as your hips buck more rapidly, face contorting and mouth falling agape. you grab onto steve's jacket with your free hand, gripping the material and bringing him closer.

"f-fuck, i'm gonna cum," your breathing is unsteady, all over the place as you get closer, wrapping your arm around steve's head to grab a fistful of his hair. “make me cum, harrington.”

“show me how you cum, baby. show me how pretty you look when you let it all go. you do that and i’m gonna fill you up so good,” his voice is low as he presses his head to yours. “you want me to bury my cock in you, don’t you?”

"mmm- fuck yeah," your moan is cut off by steve's mouth as he presses his lips to yours once more. immediately gliding his tongue across them for permission and you give it to him, letting his tongue enter.

and just like that, you're overcome with stimulation. a wave of sensation coursing through you but steve doesn't pull away, instead, he muffles your cries with kisses as he takes in the sight of you. completely vulnerable as you chase your high. chest rising and falling at a dramatic pace as your hips twitch and buck, eyes glazed over and brows arched. to hear the sweet noises you made, muffled or not.

it was a sight he had only seen once, but, oh boy, did he want to see it again.

"oh, fuck," you sigh, words split by your panting as you try to regain your breath. you still hadn't stopped fingering yourself, only slowed down the movements as your creamy goodness collected along them.

"i'm that good of a kisser, huh?" steve chuckles, staring down at you still slowly pumping your digits into yourself, eyes unwavering from the wetness that covered them.

"whatever makes you sleep better at night," you smirk, finally pulling your fingers from your pussy at the same time someone knocks on the door. "i guess that's our cue to go. eddie and robin will be waiting for us."

you both slide off the counter, your underwear slipping down to your feet as you quickly wash your hands. but rather than pulling them back on when you’re done, you gather them and scrunch them into a ball.

"what are you doing?" steve asks, confused when you pull the pocket of his jacket open and slip them inside.

"think of it as a parting gift," you smile, patting it closed then lean up to place a soft kiss on his lips, "plus, it's easier access for later."

#— 𝐯𝐞𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐲𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐬 .ᐟ ᡣ𐭩 #— 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐨𝐧 ᡣ𐭩 #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fic #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington oneshot #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington drabble #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fluff #— 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐬𝐟𝐰 .ᐟ

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mommybard · 2 months ago

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Happy Halloween~

TW: Identity Erasure a bit, gaslighting, kinda drugging adjacent, bit of breathplay mentioned at the end. As always if these are triggering for you, please avoid <3 Oh sweet dear, you can’t trick or treat in that. You’ll freeze to death with this chill in the air! Why don’t you come in and warm up? I have some treats I made you can help yourself to.

There we go. Isn’t that better? Go on, drink up. I have plenty more tea where that comes from.

I’ll admit, I’m kind of surprised you came up this way. Most people avoid this old house, with all the rumors. About it being haunted. About it being cursed. About the ‘spooky witch’ who lives here. Don’t act so surprised, I know what they say. But really, do I seem like a witch to you?

Of course not. Afterall, if I was a mean ol’ witch, wouldn’t you expect me to chase you off while shouting about cursing you? Give you the evil eye while pointing a finger menacingly at you. Or just start throwing potions or whatever's in my cauldron brewing in your direction.

I would never do any of that, don’t you worry none. No, if I was a witch I’d invite you in to warm up. Get you a nice hot drink. Feed you some snacks. Let you relax and feel comfortable…not even realizing that I slipped a curse into your tea.

But of course that’s not happening right now. You’re not feeling a tingling sensation in your lips. Feeling your thoughts slipping out of your head like sand falling between your fingers. Definitely not finding it harder to think. To remember why you came here. To remember who you are.

Go, take another sip. Doesn’t that taste good? And that feeling. Nothing really like it is there? Having something warm pressed against your lips. Feeling flavors dance on your tongue. That sensation of the hot liquid pouring down your throat and filling you with that heat.

Now, about that spell you wanted me to cast. Hmm? Poor thing, you don’t remember. See, you came up to visit me again, wanting something special. Life can be difficult. Hard. Stressful. Lots of big brain thinking out there. And you…well, sweetie, you’re a bit of an airhead. I swear half the time there’s nothing between your ears except maybe some bubbles.

You were very specific. You wanted something to help you relax. Unwind. Not have to deal with all that nonsense out there. And, well, who am I to turn you down? Hmm? A curse? No no, I’d never do that. You can trust me. Why don’t you take another sip and I’ll help you remember.

So I made a very special one, just for you. Something to take advantage of your oral fixation. Oh now don’t blush like that. You can be open with me. I know all about it darling. Don’t you remember? You told me all about it. All the times you accidentally caught yourself daydreaming about sucking someone off and drooled all over your top. The moments when you’d catch sight of someone’s camel toe or girl bulge and have to rush to the bathroom to touch yourself thinking about servicing them. The hours spent edging yourself stupid as you let a machine fuck your throat relentlessly as you dreamed of working up the courage to handle a gloryhole.

There there sweetie. That warmth in your head is just the memories coming back to you, that’s all. They might have to push out some of those weird thoughts you had about me cursing you, but really that’s for the best, don’t you think?

With your fixation…no. Not strong enough. Obsession? Yes, with your obsession in mind, I made a very special spell for you. To enhance your lips. Your tongue. Give your taste buds a boost. Although it does have some side effects. Your toys and fantasies just won’t be enough to satisfy you I’m afraid. You can certainly try, but you’ll end up playing with yourself for hours unable to cum. You’ll have to get more from another person.

So, I suppose, if you really wanted to, you could leave. Go back out there and have to deal with all that scary big brain stuff. Have to worry about people taking advantage of your new sensitivities. Pulling you into bathrooms and making the suck slut drain their balls. Sneaking you under the desk and making you eat them out over and over again until you can’t get the taste of fresh pussy off your tongue. Humiliating you in public by letting everyone see how drooly you get just from them finger fucking your mouth.

Or, you could stay here I suppose. I could use a good little cum hungry oral toy to help me out around the house. A good pet who’s throat I can core out and reshape to fit me. Trained to take down every last drop and beg for more. An oral addict who can only get off when they’re on the cusp of passing out because they value my cock more than their ability to breathe. Don’t you think that’s a good idea~?

#nsft post

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writing-reference-redux · 4 months ago

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Halloween Prompts

60 ideas for writers and artists!

Either choose your own prompt, or ask your followers to choose for you by sending you a character or ship and the number or emoji. Also, let people know if you welcome combos (combining two prompts into a single story or art piece)!

🎃 - Pumpkin carving time!

🍭 - Candy eating contest!

🫣 - Let me tell you a scary story...

🙅 - In support of the Halloween-disliker

💬 - I'm scared, and I'm going to text you all about it

🤒 - What do you mean you're sick? It's Halloween!

😳 - I have never been so embarrassed in my life

😱 - Don't worry! They're just wearing costumes!

🍷 - A little tipsy, a little spooked

☕️ - Pumpkin spice and everything nice

🍁 - The leaves are lovely this time of year

🌙 - A stroll in the moonlight

💃 - Dance the fright away

💔 - Halloween heartbreak

❤️‍🩹 - Halloween heart-mending

💍 - A Halloween proposal

🛏️ - Getting spooky in the sheets (always practice safe hex)

📖 - An armchair, a bathrobe, and a good creepy book

📺 - Let's stay in and watch scary movies

🍿 - How about we go see that new horror flick?

🛒 - What do you mean I bought too many decorations?

🪡 - Adventures in costume making

💅 - Trust me, you're going to look great!

👥 - The perfect couple's costume idea

🧼 - Your makeup really won't wash off?

🥸 - They can't tell that it's me in this costume!

🍬 - We're (not) too old to go trick-or-treating

😈 - No treat, all trick

🏚️ - Two tickets for the haunted house, please

🕯️ - A little bit of candlelight

🔦 - Are you afraid of the dark?

👂 - Did you hear that?

👀 - I'm probably just seeing things

👻 - Do you believe in ghosts?

🧛 - Vampires aren't real... right?

🧟 - The dead walk (or run, or mosey, or swim...)

🐺 - Werewolves and other fuzzy menaces

🧙 - Are you a good witch or a bad witch?

🤡 - Clowns aren't THAT scary

🪓 - Didn't you hear there's an axe-man on the loose?

💀 - Is that skeleton rattling in this direction?

🐙 - It came from beneath the waves

🧠 - It's all in your head (no, really... it's in there)

🎭 - Possession for fun and profit

🤫 - Shh! It will hear you!

🕷️ - Eight-legged guests

🐈‍⬛ - Black cats need love, too

🐦‍⬛ - An unkindness of ravens, a murder of crows...

😴 - Nightmares can't hurt you

🧸 - Children shouldn't play with creepy things

👩🏽‍💻 - An online presence

📦 - What's in the box?

🪦 - We'll just take a quick shortcut through the graveyard

🔤 - Tell me that isn't a Ouija board

📜 - An unfortunate artifact

📕 - Volume of the damned

📼 - I wonder what's on this old VHS tape

🖼️ - A portrait of very bad things

🚪 - A strange door to... somewhere

🎶 - The reanimation of the ancient being known as a "songfic"

#writing #writblr #fanfiction #ask game #prompts #halloween #the spooky season #writing prompts #art prompts #shipping #halloween ask game #halloween prompts #fanfic

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kaybreezy3000 · 3 months ago

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Forever Five

(see below for a clue of what Five is up to now days and for why this drawing got made.😜)

Here's one version of many starter sketches that I didn't go with. Turns out that drawing a dog dancing with vampy Five is very hard, so I trashed this one fairly quickly. But it's still sort of funny, and you get the idea I was rolling with. They are having fun, which is what I wanted for him when he finally found his happy. Just slather on the SPF 1000 and he's good to go. Screw The Cleanse-that shit didn't happen, and if it did, he survived. 😂

Vampy Five.........@badkitty3000 sent me this picture of a very interesting bottle of Bordeaux the other day and then this art project above happened.😄 Now I have this whole, 'Five owns a winery in his retirement,' and it's the new alternative ending in my head for him, and since Halloween is coming and I love vampires, he gets to be immortal too. ~They can't kill him, dammmit! I'll never stop finding ways to keep it going.❤️

Link to my other Tumbler Five art and stories

Link to my Master List

Link to visit me direct on A03

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imaginesandsmut · 1 year ago

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You Sweet Dumb Thing

Ethan Landry is a family orientated guy.

He fucking loves his family, he would do anything for them, he would kill for them. Correction, Ethan was going to kill for them.

Him, his sister and father had it all figured out, their plan to kill Sam and Tara for the death of Richie was something they had planned for the past year. They had all the cogs in the right place and everything was moving smoothly.

That was until he met Y/N.

At first, the new girl in the group who managed to be loved by everyone didn’t change his mind at all. He still went about sharpening his knives and training secretly in the gym to make sure he was powerful enough to take someone down like Chad.

But then she started to weasel her way into a friendship with him, and in turn, his mind.

He hated it. The way she would smile at every single fucking person on the street, how she would offer to help anyone in the group with whatever they needed, how she would smile so widely when she laughed that her eyes squeezed close. He hated it and he hated her.

But that didn’t stop him from fantasising about her during class, at work, with Chad, at night, in the shower, in his bed, in his dreams. Every time he watched a romantic movie, he thought of her. Every time he read a book, he couldn’t process the words because she was covering his thoughts. Even when he had the apartment to himself and got the opportunity to touch himself in peace, she was still there, whispering his name and moaning as he stroked himself.

She consumed his mind that he started to forget about his plans with his family.

Slowly, Chad started to catch on and even began teasing Ethan about his crush on her. Poking his ribs with his elbow whenever she joined the group at their study table, raising his eyebrows whenever she directed a question at Ethan. Chad even went so far to try and wingman him at the halloween party.

~~~~~~~~~

“Look at you man! You’re a snack!” Chad yells over the music, alcohol affecting his system. “Practically an entire meal!”

He was being genuine and kind, but Ethan felt a little ridiculous in his handmade cardboard robot costume that he didn’t feel like anything but a child.

“Now look over there, see Y/N?” He’s pointing to the makeshift dance floor, the girl is question swaying her hips to the music. “How do you think she looks?”

“She’s gorgeous.”

Ethan used to hide his feelings for Y/N from Chad, scrunching his nose and shaking his head whenever Chad questioned him about why he would stare at her for so long. But now, he can’t hide it. Even Tara and Sam knew about his crush.

“Perfect!” Chad shouted, handing another shot to Ethan. “Go ask her out.”

“No, I can’t do that.”

“And why not?” Chad’s tipsy demeanour was making Ethan annoyed, the frat-jock stereotype didn’t even realise how far above them Y/N was.

She was dancing with some random girls she just met 20 minutes prior, laughing at what they were saying whilst trying to keep up with the beat of the song. Her short Princess Peach dress left little to the imagination, her hips moving seductively as she danced to the song.

“We’re friends, I can’t ruin that with her!” Ethan wishes they would stop talking about this, the music pounding on his ears that he has resorted to shouting so Chad could hear him. “And she’d say no.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I do.”

~~~~~~~~~

Ethan’s father killed Jason and Greg that night, those Ghostface killer wannabes had it coming and Ethan was annoyed they didn’t get to the boys earlier. Then Ethan’s father attacked Sam and Tara in the bodega, with a shotgun of all weapons.

Ethan, his sister and father were together in his father’s apartment, going over the next part of their plan. Quinn was frantic about who to kill next and that she wants to be the one to do it, Ethan stayed quiet.

“Ethan?” His father spoke up, softly punching his son's knee in an effort to gain some attention back to the conversation.

“Hmm?” Ethan looked up from his position hunched over with his elbows resting on his knees, hands clasped and eyes trained on the floor.

“What do you think?” His father questions, confused as to why his son, who was once obsessed with their plan, now was silent and mentally absent.

“Think of what?” Ethan tried to shake himself back to reality, sitting back on the sofa and crossing his arms over his chest.

“Quinn killing Y/N?”

It was like ice water was dumped over him, his heart stopped beating and his hands grew sweaty. He forced his face to stay neutral, trying his hardest to not give away any emotion.

“Why are we killing Y/N? She’s not an official member of the group.” Ethan’s voice wavered slightly, he hoped that his family didn’t notice. “And why as a solo kill?”

“We can’t have too many people in the apartment tomorrow night when you attack them.” Quinn spoke slowly, twirling her hair around her pointer finger. “Plus I think it’s best to get her out of the way before you try killing the group, you know, in case you freeze up when you see her.”

“Why would I freeze up?”

“Cause you’ve had a hard-on for her for months,” Quinn laughed, “it’s better if I do it tonight and get her out of the way for you.”

“No.” Ethan’s voice was harsh, fueled by anger and fear. His father and sister looked at him, their faces as confused as ever.

“No?” His father wanted desperately to try and understand his son in this moment.

“Quinn can’t kill her.” He knew that he would need to give a good explanation, a reason as to why he was messing up their plan. “I should kill her.”

“You don’t have the balls to do it.” Quinn scoffed, brushing off her brother’s attempt at being tough.

“I’ll fucking do it,” Ethan was looking at his father in the eye, “I need to have this.”

Somehow it worked, a mere hour later Ethan was turning the key Y/N gave him in its slot and pushed her apartment door open, creeping through the living room and towards her bedroom, and towards the sound of running water.

His Ghostface mask obscured his vision slightly but he could still take in the scene around him. Printed posters of her favourite movies covered the walls, colourful decor scattered the hallway. He entered her bedroom, knife in hand as he took in the scene.

Her bed was messy, some soft teddies thrown over the purple floral sheets. Ethan took off his mask to see the room better since this is the first time he’s ever been in it, he felt like he was walking on holy ground.

The brown haired boy pushed his curls from his eyes to look at the pictures she had on her walls - lots of her, Tara and Mindy, some of her and Chad, even some of her and his sister, Quinn.

The ones he stared at were the many pictures of himself and Y/N, a lot of them candids but some of them posed. He felt a surge of pride as he outranked Chad when it came to how many times he was featured on her wall.

The Ghostface mask and knife in his hands grew heavy, as if they were trying to actively fall out of his hands.

He can’t do this.

His thoughts here growing wild and anxious, overloaded with fear as to what he was preparing himself to do. Ethan can’t kill her, he would rather slit his own throat than do it to her. He even realised that he would rather kill someone for her.

The sound of the shower had stopped and Ethan began freaking out, it was now or never. But in that moment, he backed out. He was happy that he took this job from Quinn, but now he needed to find a way to get out and keep his family away from her.

The bathroom door began to open and Ethan knew it was too late for him to run, either she would catch him or someone else would. Instead, he stuffed the mask and knife under her bed haphazardly. The boy struggled with the black robe that covered his body, pulling it roughly over his head and also shoving it under her bed.

Then, quickly trying to find a way to explain why he was in her room, he walked over to her desk and started looking for her Econ notes, his cheeks were hot in anxiety and fear.

“Ethan?”

Her voice was soft and nervous, as if it wasn’t going to be him. Ethan’s shoulders tensed as he slowly turned around, an embarrassed smile on his face.

“Hey?”

“What are you doing?” She was dressed in a small top and even smaller underwear, the flimsy fabric of her top showed her nipples through the fabric whilst her underwear were dainty little lacy things that made Ethan feel hot.

“Why are you in my room?”

He realised he was ogling her, just staring at her body and she used her arms to cover her chest, not moving from her spot on the other side of the room.

“I’m so sorry.” Ethan pushed himself to say, darting his eyes down as he played with the paper containing her Econ notes in his hands. “I just needed to run in and grab your notes for Econ, I didn’t think you would be here.”

She didn’t say anything, just stared at him whilst trying to cover herself with her arms. He gulped in the silence, just staring down at his hands. She was probably doubting his excuse, wondering why he didn't send a text or ask for them the next day. Ethan’s mind was swirling with his stupidity, he should've just ran.

Ethan has imagined so many times being in Y/N’s room whilst she was wearing that exact outfit, but also in those dreams, he’s much more confident and makes a fucking move.

Now, he can’t even look at her. Too scared that if he takes in her body once more, he’ll get a boner and embarrass himself even further. Even thinking about the fact that she’s standing only 5 steps from him in a see-through top and lace underwear was making him hot and flustered.

He looked at his feet and saw his Ghostface mask poking out from underneath her bed, the knife next to it gleaming in the soft warm light of her bedside table lamp. Y/N was so stupid to be so defenceless, if only she knew how he had protected her from being stabbed to death by his sister, if only she knew of all the things he does for her. If Ethan wasn’t around, Y/N would be so lost, like a little kitten begging for shelter, and Ethan was the only person who could be that for her.

Y/N should be thankful for him.

A new feeling came over Ethan like a cloud rolling over the hills, powerful and daunting as the new darkness showed in his eyes. Confidence began to pump through the blood in his veins, giving him a new aura that even Y/N noticed.

Y/N’s demeanour changed from confused to scared, she had never seen Ethan like this. Her feet started to shuffle back, but the more distance she made between them, Ethan matched her steps and kept the distance.

“Ethan?” She sounded lost, it was like his name was the only word she knew. “Are you feeling good?”

The boy started to grin, closing the distance between them whilst Y/N tried to move further away. He could see it in her eyes, the soft glow of not just fear, but of heat that was spreading all over her body, Although she was stepping away from him, her chest was rising and falling rapidly in anticipation, her eyes were heavy and lidded, and her cheeks were blooming with splotches of red.

She wanted him.

“Do you have any idea how badly I've wanted to be alone with you? To see you like this?” Her back hit the wall and her hands broke apart from her chest to feel the wall behind her. “I’ve been so stressed out lately, please help me?”

“Help you how?” Y/N’s voice was deathly quiet, Ethan had almost missed it due to the blood pounding in his ears almost making him deaf. His brown eyes were pouring into hers, causing her to melt inwardly and her knees were starting to buckle.

“Be a good girl and let me touch you, yeah?”

He could see the range of emotions cross over her face, most of them were confusion and intrigue. Ethan will admit, the nerdy virgin facade he puts on isn't completely false, that definitely was him a year or so ago. But after Richie died, something snapped in the Kirsch family and Ethan grew out of the geek he used to be and became someone completely new, someone sure of themself and hollow.

But the nerd is who Y/N knew, who she was comfortable with. This new person in front of her wasn't the Ethan she was friends with, but he could tell she was turned on nonetheless. Ethan’s body was now pressed up against her, his hands on either side of her head whilst he lowered his lips to ghost over her skin. Her breath hitches as he knows she can feel how hard he is against her, her hips involuntarily bucking.

“You need to tell me you want this.” Even though Ethan was putting on a cool demeanour, he couldn’t help the anxious pumping of his heart at the idea that she’ll say no and push him away.

He waited with baited breath until she nodded her head, it was slight and nervous but it was all he needed before his teeth sunk into her neck, pulling at the skin and hoping to leave a mark.

Y/N moaned loudly into the still silence of the room, her hands flying to pull on his hair, either to pull him away or urge him on, Ethan didn’t know. His brain was foggy from the lust, acting on his primal instincts with the need to own her. Y/N’s panting filled his ears, her hips moving softly against his own.

“Keep going.” Ethan was boarding on being domineering and demanding, to being whiny and pathetic. “Please let me feel you.”

The girl took his words and began grinding herself onto him, heavy and lusty pants. The friction was making Ethan needy and it was making Y/N beg for more. Ethan’s lips were biting the skin on her shoulder and neck, hands reaching underneath the top to tug at her boobs.

“Please,” her head was thrown back as she was desperate for air, “please, Ethan.”

She could feel his smile against her skin, “what do you want, baby?”

“Please.” Her lips were brushing against his temple, the curls tickling her. “Kiss me, touch me, do something.”

“Anything for you.”

Ethan’s mouth crashed onto hers, his tongue already slipping past her lips. It was breathy and hot, teeth clashing as the kiss was too fast for them to even understand. God, Y/N was such a pretty thing but Ethan knew she was trying hard to keep up.

“Take your time,” his right hand left the wall beside her head and started playing with the lace at the border of her underwear, the little bow sewn into the pink fabric gaining some attention from his middle finger. “Let me show you what I can do for you.”

His middle finger moved from the bow and down, touching her through the fabric of her underwear. His fingers reached her pussy through the soft and thin fabric, her wetness already soaking the fabric. It made Ethan laugh; how easily she could get wet for him and he hadn’t even done anything.

“Do you need me here?” Ethan already knew the answer, he just wanted the ego boost of her saying it aloud.

“Mhm.” Her voice was soft and her eyes were screwed shut, but he wanted more.

“Say it.” Ethan’s tone was darker, almost like a yell with how quiet they had both been previously.

“I need you to touch me, Ethan.” Y/N pulled his hair and dragged his face closer, sealing their lips together in a heated his once more before panting out, “please touch me, baby.”

Ethan felt like he could have made her cum through her underwear with how desperate she was for him, but he wasn't that cruel. The boy dipped his fingers past the waistband and dragged them through the wetness between her folds, earning a short and stifling gasp of air from Y/N. She felt so soft, like nothing he’s ever touched before. He moved his two fingers through her slick, his thumb coming down to circle her clit and being awarded with a moan from her, still pressed to his lips.

Ethan pulled away from her lips with a groan, realising how lightheaded his baby was becoming from the kiss, only clumsily moving her lips against his. A soft smile graced his features, spit covering his lips as little heart eyes replaced his pupils.

Y/N panted as she waited for him to say something, but then his index finger pushed into her. He curled it slowly, pumping it in and out before filling her with another one. Y/N’s hands moved from his hair and held onto his shoulders, pulling him closer as her legs were starting to give out. He groans, revelling in the way she reacts to him.

“You’re so pretty, baby.” Ethan whispers, more for his own ears than Y/N’s as she wasn’t even paying attention to him. Instead she was pressing open mouthed kisses to his neck, a physical plea for him to continue.

Her breathing was heavy, whining in pain as his fingers picked up the pace as he stretched her out. Her brain was foggy and numb from the feeling, Ethan can tell from the way she only moans as a reply. She’s clawing at Ethan’s neck as she kisses him, begging him for more than what he is giving her.

“You’re doing so good, pretty girl.” The words of affirmation stirred a need inside her, pushing her to buck her hips and match the movement of his fingers. “Taking me so well.”

Ethan curls his fingers and quickens his pace, fucking her harder with just his fingers. He looked at her face and began ingraining this moment in his memory of how she looks - the way her eyes were glazing over and her jaw went slack with each thrust, his lips so pillowy and wet that he could imagine them taking his dick.

Just when Y/N began tightening around Ethan’s fingers, he pulled them out and caught her with his other arm as she practically fell to the floor. Her body hot and sweaty but not satisfied. She looked up at Ethan just to witness him put his fingers in his mouth to taste her, holding eye contact sharp and steady.

“Want you to finish around me.”

It was all the explanation Ethan gave her before walking backwards so his legs hit the edge of the bed, sitting down and pulling her underwear down before placing her on top of him. She moaned at the friction of her being bare against his rough jeans, mindlessly rubbing herself over his crotch that was now growing and straining against the fabric.

“You like this, don’t you?” Ethan asks her, using his hands to guide her desperate and sloppy movements. “Bet none of the words I’m saying right now are getting through your pretty little head, huh?”

Ethan’s eyes darkened as the image of Y/N getting herself off on his lap was not only something he constantly daydreamed about, but was now a reality. His dick, now frantic to be touched itself, pushed Ethan to turn them around and lay her on the bed.

He took his time taking off his clothes, watching as she squirms on the bed in anticipation. His awkwardly tall body cages her in as he hovers above her, she’s so delicate and pliable, something that he needs to protect.

Ethan holds himself at Y/N’s entrance, rubbing his head through her folds and gathering enough of her slick that he could’ve came right then and there. He held eye contact as he pushed himself in, both groaning at the sensation and whimpering from how good they both felt.

Y/N was like a dream, so easy and manipulatable, she would let Ethan do anything to her right in this moment. His trusting, darling girl.

Ethan started moving with fervent need, her boobs rubbing against his chest with every motion, causing him to become whiny. She tightened around him so good, her small gasps of air and kisses to his neck were so loving. All he wanted to do was pound into her so fast, to hear her screaming of pleasure and ruin her for any other man.

But she deserved sweet, sticky and hot sex to keep her in a daze whilst he killed her friends in a few hours. Then he can come back and ruin her for good, fucking her whilst she cried - about her friends or because of what he was doing to her, Ethan didn’t care. He controlled himself by gripping the sheets, squeezing the flower patterned fabric until in threatened to tear.

“So good.” She moaned, one hand tugging on his hair and the other scraping down his back. “Please, Ethan.”

It was obvious Y/N wanted something, her mind just too cockdrunk and dumb that she couldn’t form words properly.

“You sweet, dumb thing.” He groaned into her neck, one hand in her hair whilst the other dipped down to circle her clit. “Nothing is going through your head but me, yeah?”

She just nodded, mumbling incoherent words and crying to some higher deity. Ethan’s hips started snapping with a newfound speed, pulling in and out of her so quickly that even he was starting to grow stupid from how good she felt, how well she was taking him. His groans turned into whimpers as he buried his head in her neck and continued his previous assault, biting her and marking her up.

Y/N’s hips were bucking to the same rhythm of his, matching his speed whilst squeezing around him in anticipation for her release.

“That’s a good girl.” Although Ethan’s words were confident, his delivery was breathy and submissive. “Taking me so good.”

Y/N started to tear up, the feeling of Ethan touching all over her body was almost too much. His mouth came to her face to kiss her tears away, pressing his lips to hers so she could taste the salty liquid as they kissed, soaking up her moans and whimpers with his mouth.

Ethan broke apart from the kiss and let his head fall back into the crook of her neck, catching a glimpse of the Ghostface mask and knife under her bed. The mask looked back at Ethan, a symbol of the rules he was breaking in this very moment. His father and sister would be livid if they found out what Ethan decided to do when he promised he was going to slit Y/N’s neck.

But the way she was squeezing around him, tugging at his hair and clawing at his back, legs wrapped around him and pinning his body close to her, the small sounds of pleasure that forced its way past her pretty plush lips. More importantly, the feeling of himself inside her, he could even see it, the bulge in her belly showing itself every time he pushed in, then disappearing when he pulled back out.

It all felt better than any kill has.

“Ethan,” Y/N huffed, “I’m gonn- I’m close.”

The lovesick girl had her eyes screwed shut so she couldn’t see Ethan push the Ghostface mask further underneath the bed so he could continue his assault on her, quickening his pace and bending down to take one of her nipples into his mouth, swirling his tongue around and biting on it.

Tears rolled down her face harder, pouring out of her eyes and she could barely get any words out. Almost as if he found a button within her, Y/N gasped and tightened around him, walls convulsing as she came around his cock. Her face in a state of bliss with her contractions around him have Ethan following not so far from behind, his moans and whimpers of pleasure hot in her ear.

And in this moment Ethan had realised that if it came to it, he would kill everyone, including his own family, to keep her.

#ethan landry #ethan landry smut #scream #scream 6 #scream smut #scream 6 smut

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familiarscars · 1 month ago

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Lost In Control | Bad Omens | CHAPTER 13

adult content | minors do NOT interact.

⋆ 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆. Bad Omens X ex-girlfriend and singer!Reader.

⋆ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. You and Noah had a difficult ending, but you still need to support each other for the band.

⋆ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆(𝐒). melancholy, ex-boyfriends, difficult relationships, alcohol abuse, swearing, drug addiction, violence.

It's okay to not agree with the characters' attitudes during the fic. It's good to remember that the story is fiction from the author's sick mind, and of course they will make dubious decisions according to my fantasies. Nothing is done to be compared to reality.

Michigan, October 31, 2019

“Hey, we’ve landed.” He said softly, leaning close to your face while nudging your side. “You can open your eyes now.”

You cracked one eye open to check if you were still alive and in one piece after that flying machine had shaken so much on the way from Los Angeles to here. You felt his body shift with a faint laugh. Once you were reassured of your mere safety, you opened the other eye. Finally, the plane had touched down, and you could let go of Noah’s arms, which you’d been clutching onto like a monkey on a branch.

Bad Omens had released their second album just a few months ago. Finding God Before God Finds Me was the perfect blend of everything they’d worked on while locked in the studio for nearly two years, experimenting with new paths until they achieved the final result. The band had crafted a set of tracks that combined melodic elements with heavy riffs. They managed to balance the sound, carving out their unique identity, and leaving behind the comparisons to other bands from their debut album.

Since its release, the critics’ reviews couldn’t have been more positive.

The band’s rapid growth since their debut, along with the approval of both old and new fans, secured them a spot at another festival. A gathering of bands celebrating Halloween and the famous Devil’s Night—a local tradition, as you’d researched online.

“That was awful. I never want to fly again in my life!” You grumbled, adjusting in your seat and crossing your arms. “I can’t believe anyone still has the energy after surviving that turbulence that almost killed us!”

“GOOD MORNING!” Folio shouted, standing on the seat behind you, his high-pitched yell shaking your eardrums. “BAD OMENS IS GONNA DESTROY DEVIL’S NIGHT, BABY!”

You and Noah exchanged a glance and simultaneously rolled your eyes.

“Of course, he’s happy. He snored through the whole damn flight!” Your tone threatened to turn sharp as you were still annoyed, but it softened as you threw the neck pillow you were using at your friend, a smile tugging at your lips. “Pipe down, will you?”

Folio tossed the pillow back, hitting you in the neck with the fluffy object. Your mouth opened as if that action were a direct invitation to war. Once again, you hurled it at his face. While all the normal adults were lined up to exit the plane, you two were playing as if you were at home.

In one of your attacks, the pillow hit Noah’s face. The way he grabbed it, slammed it onto the other seat to end the game, and turned his attention back to his phone was enough to tell you something was wrong. Folio pursed his lips and abandoned the battlefield, retreating to his seat like a well-behaved child after a scolding.

He’d decided it was better to bother someone else.

Maybe Matt.

“What’s wrong?” you asked, nibbling on your lower lip as you tucked your leg under yourself and leaned back into the seat.

“Look at this…” His voice was filled with indignation, and his eyebrows drew together. Noah shoved his phone into your hand, and you took it slowly, seeing a single post on the screen. It was the lineup announcement for the Halloween festival, and initially, you couldn’t spot anything wrong.

“Sorry, but what’s the issue?”

“Gerard said we’d be the headliners of the night, but Landon’s band’s name is bigger than ours.” His eyes narrowed, his expression tense. Noah’s lips thinned, and his perfectly sculpted nose flared slightly.

“And this is a problem for us?” You squinted, puzzled. Maybe it was the lack of sleep or the time zone change, but you genuinely couldn’t grasp where he was going with this.

Noah had always been the first to say you were too critical of Gerard, seeing problems where none existed.

“It’s a problem for me when they use my band’s name to sell tickets but place us on the same level as an inferior band on the poster. In what world does Landon’s band, which has only one viral song, deserve to have their name above mine?” His tone hardened. “In the initial announcements, the festival didn’t even mention their name in the banners, and now, after tickets sold out quickly, a new band magically appears on the lineup?”

“I think you’re putting too much energy into an issue that’s not that deep.”

Noah laughed bitterly, slapping his thigh in disbelief and shaking his head. It wasn’t news that out of all the members, he’d developed a bit of an ego issue over the years. Sure, Bad Omens had more hit songs, more listeners, and were better known than Landon’s band. But from an outside perspective, his tirade honestly sounded identical to a case of inflated pride.

“Hey!” Tapping his arm lightly with your fingertips, you managed to grab his attention again. It broke your heart to see him upset, but the little pout he made, puffing out his cheeks, was unbearably cute.

Slowly, you leaned over him, resting your chin on your hands on his broad shoulder covered by his hoodie. Like a needy puppy, he tilted his head and accepted the string of kisses you planted along the warm, soft skin of his face.

“If the problem is the font size they used for our name on there, I’ll make a new poster where Bad Omens will be the biggest name of all, and the other bands will be so small you can barely read them. How’s that?” Your question came with raised eyebrows, and it was impossible not to smile when he gave in, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye, trying to suppress a grin.

“The biggest of all?”

“Yep.” You followed up with another kiss on his cheek. “And you can stick it on your wall as a keepsake.”

Your fingertips traced a slow path from his neck to his face. Noah chuckled reflexively from the ticklish sensation and startled you when he suddenly turned around, pulling you into his arms and pinning you near the window. Hovering over the divider between the seats in an awkward position, he refused to let go.

With your faces close enough to share the same breath, you felt warmth bloom in your stomach again as his expression regained its usual light. Some days, peace seemed to bless you both like a divine gift, and seeing him radiant was enough to make your body react.

In a shamelessly unfair move, he attacked you with a flurry of quick, loud kisses all over your face, finally stopping at the tip of your nose and pressing his forehead against yours.

“Will I get your autograph on it?” he asked in a hushed tone, as if sharing a secret.

“Have I ever said no to you?” you whispered against his lips, which then brushed yours in a tender kiss.

“Thank you,” he murmured with a soft smile, grazing his nose against yours. Knowing him as well as you did, you could tell from his low tone that a slight emotion was laced in his voice. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Your life would definitely be a total bore,” you teased, watching his smile grow.

For a moment, it felt like you weren’t on a slow-disembarking plane but rather caught up in one of your silly, casual conversations in a park. The way he tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear sent shivers through your skin, stirring your flesh and igniting your veins to pump furiously toward your heart in an almost unbearable rhythm.

“Sometimes I feel like I don’t even remember what life was like without you,” he confessed, his bright eyes tinged with melancholy, and his brows knitted in a pained expression. “I caught myself thinking about it last night for no reason, and I couldn’t shake it. I know for sure that without you, I’d be nothing more than a breathing body, living on autopilot, just waiting for the next day. You’re part of me—you guide everything—and I’d never know how to do that without you. Without you, I wouldn’t even be Noah.”

Wrapping him in your arms didn’t feel like enough. You silently begged some divine force to merge the two of you into one at that moment, so overwhelming was your need to shield him from his fears. With the touch of your skin, you promised to always be there; with your lips on his, you vowed never to let anything tear apart what you had.

You found it equally terrifying to imagine life without him. You knew you’d be no more than a breathing body too. You wouldn’t be anything. You’d much rather self-destruct than endure being separated from the one thing that saved your life when even you didn’t believe in it.

He was as much yours as you were his, and nothing in heaven or hell could change that.

“I love you, little storm,” he whispered against your lips, his eyes still closed.

“I love you, my love,” you replied with a smile that always blossomed whenever those words left your lips.

“Jesus Christ, I can’t believe we’re running this late, and you two are making out on the plane instead of moving! Do I have to babysit you all the time?” Matt bellowed, smacking Noah’s back. You and Noah exchanged glances, rolling your eyes as you muttered something incomprehensible before standing up. “I don’t remember getting paid for this! Move it! Move it! Let’s go!”

The show was in full swing, adrenaline running high. You and Noah couldn’t have been more in sync with the audience, which was the largest you’d performed for to date. Everyone screamed, shouted lyrics, and responded well to the interactions.

It felt cliché to say, but you felt even more alive up there, as if the stage’s euphoria sustained you. Every break between songs to catch your breath and take a sip of water filled your lungs with air and gave you the energy to keep giving your best.

They deserved it.

You focused on keeping your tone steady during the penultimate song, gripping the microphone tightly with your eyes closed. It was impossible not to wear a smile every time you heard them finish the lyrics for you.

In a swift motion, you opened your eyes to keep moving across the stage, but something in the crowd caught your attention, freezing you in place. Your voice faltered, and the smile disappeared instantly as the drums continued to beat feverishly in the background. Amidst the sea of faces, you saw only one—his. It was as if the others were dimmed, and his presence was the only one reflecting the light.

Wearing a cap, dark sunglasses, and a turtleneck, he seemed to be trying to blend in. But you would recognize him anywhere, even in a crowd of millions, even if your vision was impaired. Your body reacted instinctively. Your hands grew cold and clammy, making it hard to grip the microphone, your right eyelid twitched faintly, and your jaw locked so tightly you feared your teeth might crack.

Snapping you out of your hypnotic state, Noah took over the rest of the song, his voice gradually becoming a distant noise as the walls seemed to close in around you. Dark and claustrophobic, you felt like you were swimming against the current when, in reality, you were in the middle of a whirlpool pulling you down by the legs. Slowly, your breathing grew erratic, and your heartbeat pounded in your ears at a frantic pace.

The microphone slipped from your trembling fingers, and with hurried steps, you left the stage behind without even checking if what you saw was a delusion or if he was truly there. It didn’t matter—this time, you had the choice to run, and you took it.

Panting, you gripped the sink tightly, splashing water on your neck as you stared at your reflection in the mirror. Nothing seemed to calm the agony his presence in the same space caused—a mix of fear and despair that paralyzed your body. It didn’t matter how many years had passed or how far you had traveled; he still felt so alive in your skin that you could sense every memory as if it were yesterday.

The years hadn’t masked the torture of living in a body like yours. After being violated, it was never the same. No matter what you did to erase the traces of your former self—tattoos, surgeries, nothing could remove what was beneath your skin, coursing through your veins, lighting up every time something reminded you of him, no matter how small.

Your first reaction, after staring at your flushed, red reflection for what felt like an eternity, was to trigger an endless wave of vomiting into the cleaning bucket nearby. Everything in your stomach melted into a green liquid. The disgust was so overwhelming you kept inducing the next wave with your fingers until the acid from your stomach was the only taste on your lips.

You were desperate to cry, but the tears wouldn’t come. The absence of release led you to lash out at yourself, scrubbing your mouth aggressively, scratching your face with the tips of your nails. The memories tangled, blurring the line between past and present. Both hurt so much you pressed your chest with all your might, your fingers clawing at your scalp, yanking your hair mercilessly. Low, hoarse screams tore from your throat.

You couldn’t make noise. You couldn’t forget this was your problem to bear.

After erasing the streaks of powder from the sink, you raised your face, breathing heavily as your heart pounded fiercely in your chest, heating the blood coursing through your veins. Slowly, you wiped the smudged makeup from the corners of your eyes and forced a smile, tucking your hair behind your ear. But your eyes remained sorrowful.

Pain.

Something hurt.

You just wanted to go home.

“Finally found you!” Noah said, placing his hands on his hips when he saw you leaving the bathroom. He was leaning against the couch in the dressing room, eating an apple. “What was that? Were you still feeling sick from the flight?”

From a distance, you observed him in silence. He didn’t seem angry about you leaving the stage or for being here. His bright eyes only showed concern, but the walls of your mind were compressed under such intense pressure that you wished he would disappear for a few seconds.

Before you realized it, Noah approached. In your peripheral vision, you saw him reaching out to touch your arm, but you sidestepped him, walking to the other side of the room.

"Okay, I got it!" He raised his hands with a smile, treating it like a joke, and something about that made you feel even worse. "We've got some people outside wanting to take pictures. Let's do a quick interview, and it’d be nice to talk to them on the way."

"What people?" You turned to him, stopping the massage on your neck. Noah narrowed his eyes slightly, analyzing the hesitation in your voice. "Where did they come from?"

"They’re fans who came to see us. I don’t think I can memorize every face..."

He could be among them. He could be among them.

Your mind repeated the thought as your hand moved from your neck to your hair. Your gaze fixed on a spot on the floor, and it was as if a projector replayed the scene in your head. He was there in the crowd, watching you, and now he wanted to pass himself off as one of your fans.

"I’ve told you before, I don’t like when you do that—you’ll hurt yourself." Noah startled you by gently pulling your fingers away from your hair at the back of your neck, where you had been tugging at it.

Carefully, he positioned himself beside you, lifting your chin with his finger. Softly, his hand wiped the dampness under your eyes, and you looked at him with something stuck in your throat, words failing to escape.

"Please, don’t make me go out there and take pictures with them," you whispered, clutching Noah’s torso so tightly your nails dug into his shirt. "Please, please, please... I don’t want to go."

Desperation and disorientation. Your eyes couldn’t settle on a single point, and your voice came in gasps as if you were running a marathon.

"Alright, but Gerard won’t let us leave without doing the interview. It’s part of the event coverage, and he thinks it’s important we talk to them." Noah explained, running his fingers over the top of your head as if the gesture might calm you. Something landed there—a kiss between your hair. He rested his chin on your head and sighed deeply. "Think you can handle it? Three or four questions, and then we’re free to go back to the hotel."

"Promise?" You asked, lifting your head after sniffing. Noah smiled and kissed the tip of your nose, resting his forehead gently against yours.

"I promise."

Facing yet another woman with dyed hair and fishnet tights. Interesting.

Since arriving at the makeshift studio where a camera and sound equipment sat on a table, the interviewer had only said a brief "hi" to you. You could tell she genuinely cared about the band, but that interest was entirely directed at one vocalist.

"This is Bad Omens’ first time as a headliner at a festival like this, and I wanted to know, what were your expectations, Noah?" The girl with the red-dyed hair and microphone in hand directed her sixth question to him. "Were they met?"

It wasn’t surprising anymore that they ignored the fact the band had five members, including two vocalists. Most interviews only requested one of you, and when the label forced you to accompany the poster boy, it was obvious you’d be overlooked.

To them, Noah was the centerpiece, and in their minds, everything Bad Omens had achieved was thanks to him alone. As if you and the other members were merely the crust of the pizza.

"I thought it was amazing!" He began. "From backstage, we could feel the energy of the crowd, and it got us pumped to get on stage. It’s the first time we’ve played for such a large audience, and I won’t lie—I was nervous."

"Do you usually have any specific preparation for that?"

"I like to take a few minutes alone to focus. I think it helps me stay grounded," he replied, and you rolled your eyes.

Playing with the microphone cord was already becoming tedious.

"We have to talk about the new album! It definitely has a different vibe from the last one, and people say you did that to put an end to online comparisons with another famous band. Is that true?"

He hated discussing it that way, and you noticed his discomfort as his smile faded slightly.

"It’s normal to compare—we were newcomers, and no one knew what the hell Bad Omens was." You jumped in, cutting Noah off before he could answer. "But this album truly shows who we are and what we’re here to do, putting an end to any comparisons by those who can’t tell the difference between styles. Without identity, we’re just another small-name band on a festival flyer, and we’re definitely not that kind of band."

Maybe you sounded arrogant. That’s what being around him does.

"That’s really cool!" She responded, nodding in agreement. "But Noah, how was the creative process for the softer songs, considering you guys weren’t used to that?"

It couldn’t just be your imagination, but something about her gaze said otherwise. Sure, you were used to being ignored in interviews as though you were a production assistant, but she not only directed all her questions to him but smiled sweetly and looked at him with a glimmer of fascination that made your chest throb.

All that irritation doubled as you gripped the microphone handle tightly, letting out a heavy sigh.

"Maybe your question would be answered if you directed it to the songwriter who worked on every soft track alongside Jolly." You interrupted again. "I don’t recall Noah announcing a solo career."

"Hey," he murmured, trying to calm you.

Of course, he didn’t want you to say anything. Something stroking his ego was still appealing, but you weren’t in the mood to play a supporting character today. You didn’t even want to be there, not when your heart pounded so hard it felt like it might consume your entire body.

"I’d really like to be seen as a vocalist in the band I’ve worked in for five years, and I’d appreciate it if you acknowledged me here to ask questions about the album I helped create instead of asking dumb questions to my pretty boyfriend!"

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Noah chuckle softly, quickly composing himself. The interviewer shifted in her seat, trying to smile discreetly to mask the blush spreading across her cheeks.

"I’m sorry..."

"But I won’t be sorry next time when I rip your eyes out for focusing too much on someone else’s boyfriend instead of doing your job. Misogynistic bitch."

In a fit of anger, you stood up and hurled the microphone at her face before storming out like a furious thunderbolt. For the first time, something felt off as you marched back to the dressing room, hearing the girl say the cut on her brow was minor. You felt rage, discomfort, like being trapped in clothes far too large for your body.

For the first time, you started to hate all of it.

⭑ @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard ; @iluvmewwwww75 ; @anarchydomainglory ; @foliosgirl ; @lma1986 ; @chey-h ; @supersquirrel1996 ; @zozaline ; @just-randomm-stuff

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mrsstarkey1 · 2 years ago

Text

it must be fate - jj maybank

SUMMARY: the three times that fate pulled you and JJ together ; very loosely based on Invisible String by Taylor Swift - requested by @willowpains

WORD COUNT: 3.3k

WARNINGS: curse words

a/n: i absolutely adore this fic and i have an idea for a part two, so lmk if u want it

—

THE FIRST TIME: the meeting

The minute you walk through the classroom door, all eyes are instantly on you. Your tiny hands tighten around your backpack straps and you take in a deep, shaky breath.

“What’s your name sweetie?” the teacher at the front of the room asks you sweetly, after you’ve been silent for a couple moments.

“Um- y/n. I just moved here,” you mutter, feeling a familiar burn on your cheeks as you try to avoid eye contact with all of the kids staring at you.

“Hello y/n, welcome to OBX Middle School,” she glances around the room, searching for a place to direct you to. “I think we have a full class, but Zoe isn’t here today, so you can go ahead and take a seat there. Right next to JJ,” she points to an open seat, and your eyes find the boy she’s talking about.

The boy in question turns around in his seat, eyes meeting yours. You take a moment to look at him. His blonde hair fell over his forehead freely, and he wore khakis and a red t-shirt stained with what you can only imagine as dirt; he looked disheveled in almost every way, but he wore a smile on his face that made it almost impossible for you to look away.

You realize, far too late, that you’ve been staring for awfully too long. You shuffle over to the seat, a shy smile on your face directed at the boy- JJ. You liked that name. You wondered what it was short for.

You put your bag next to your chair, shuffling through it to find your pencil bag. Your hand grips it, and as you pull it out of the bag, it slips out of your hand and falls to the floor with an audible thud. You close your eyes for a short moment in embarrassment.

You open your eyes, ready to reach down and pick it up, but JJ already has it in his hands, holding it out to you. “Here,” he says simply, the same kind smile on his face.

“Thank you,” you breathe out, a slight chuckle leaving your lips. “I’m y/n,” you say quietly, only wanting the boy to hear and not the rest of the class.

The boys smile widens, “I’m JJ.”

“Anything you’d like to share with the class, Mr. Maybank?” the teacher questions, her voice raised.

“No, ma’am,” JJ says with a small smirk, sending one last glance your way.

“Alright then. Pay attention, and stop corrupting the new girl,” she says, a slight joking tone in her voice.

Your cheeks turn red at the mention of you, but your lips twitch into a smile when you see the look on JJ’s face.

Five minutes ago, you’d walked into the classroom terrified of being in a whole new town and school. But now, for some reason you couldn’t possibly explain, as you looked at JJ, you felt calm.

In that moment, you felt like maybe being the new kid wouldn’t be as terrible as you’d thought.

THE SECOND TIME: the halloween dance

Your hands fiddle with the hem of your skirt as you stand on your tiptoes, scanning the room for your date. Your nose scrunched up when you said the word in your head, ‘date’. You were only in 7th grade, and you’d never dated before. You didn’t even like Johnathon like that, so you didn’t know why your heart was clenched tightly and your eyes welled up with tears when you couldn’t find him.

It had been nearly an hour since the dance started; since you were supposed to meet Johnathon at the front doors.

You let an irritated, embarrassed, and sad sigh escape your lips as you sit down on the bleachers, as you finally realized that Johnathon was not coming. And you’d worn this extremely uncomfortable cowgirl costume for nothing. Dressing as Jessie and Woody for the Halloween Dance had been Johnathans idea; he’d said it would be the perfect couples costume. It had excited you, if you were being honest, to be a part of a couples costume. But now you’d desperately wished that you’d never said yes in the first place.

You stand up off of the bleachers after mentally coming to the decision that you needed to leave. When your gaze directs toward the double doors of the gym, your eye just barely catches the back of a brown cowboy hat. Woody’s cowboy hat.

Your eyes widen in surprise, and your feet begin to move before you can let another thought enter your mind. You reach Johnathan, tapping him on the shoulder excitedly. He turns around, cowboy boots slapping against the wood floor and you take a step back when you see the cowboys face. Your eyes trail over the boy’s outfit, eyebrows furrowing together. He was woody, all right, but he was not Johnathan. “JJ?”

JJ’s eyes narrow for a split second, giving your costume a once over. “Y/n?” he asks, a shocked smile developing on his face. “Wow, I haven’t seen you in forever.”

You nod in agreement, still a little rattled by the strangeness of this moment. JJ Maybank - the boy you sat next to in 4th grade and hadn’t talked to since, was standing in front of you wearing the costume that coupled with yours, and the original owner of the costume idea was no where to be found. Strange, you think.

“I’ve never seen you at a dance before,” you say, shifting on your feet.

JJ sighs, “yeah, I didn’t really want to come, but some of my friends convinced me, and now I don’t know where the hell they went,” he says, irritated as he looks around the gym aimlessly. His eyes shift back to you after a moment, “I like your costume,” he says with a small smile.

Your cheeks turn pink, you’re not sure why. “Crazy, isn’t it? That we’re matching. I was supposed to meet Jackson here; he was supposed to be Woody too, but I haven’t seen him.”

JJ frowns at the disappointment in your voice that you were trying to cover up. “Well, it’s a good thing you have a back-up Woody,” he says with a smile, gesturing to himself.

You chuckle, “you’re offering to keep me company?” you ask, a hopeful smile playing on your lips.

JJ nods, stepping toward you a little and extending his hand. “Well, we do have matching costumes,” he says with a smile and a small shrug.

Suddenly, with one touch of your hands to JJ's, every thought about Johnathan had left your mind. Matter of fact, every thought that didn't have to do with the blonde boy in front of you, had left your mind.

Maybe this dance won't be so bad, you thought.

THE THIRD TIME: the party

You were absolutely fucking plastered.

The realization hit you when you tripped over literally nothing and slammed into the wall, the wind being knocked out of you. All you can do is laugh hysterically as you push your body off the wall, attempting to steady yourself.

You lean your back against the wall, giving into your exhaustion a little. You’d been at this party for hours, you think. You don’t actually know how long you’ve been here, all you know is that you’ve had a drink in your hand the entire time. And when a drink is in your hand, you drink it.

You normally didn’t drink this much at parties, you swear. Multiple factors went into this night being… different. Your friends who had invited you were absolutely nowhere to be found, and you’d really been looking forward to going to this party for weeks. You hadn't gone to any social event in what felt like forever, so getting back out there was exciting - at first. Now, you were absolutely wasted and alone, at a party where you didn't really even know anyone.

You notice the lack of weight of the red solo cup in your hand, frowning at the sight of the bottom of the cup through the tiny bit of clear liquid that was left.

On your way over to the drink table, you run straight into a tall figure, and two arms reach out to steady you. “Woah woah- watch where ur going,” he says harshly.

“My bad,” you slur, involuntarily laugh leaving your lips.

The guys eyes land on yours, noticing your clear intoxication, “Hey, y/n, right?” You nod lazily, only humming in response. “I’m Jackson, if you didn’t already know,” he says, cockiness in his voice evident to you even in his drunken state.

You smile anyway, holding out your hand, “nice to meet ya.”

He chuckles, shaking your hand tightly. “Whatchu drinkin’ there?” he asks, peeking his eyes over into your cup.

You look at it too, swirling the small amount of liquid around a couple times. You shrug, “dunno. It’s good, but it’s almost empty.”

The boy chuckles, eyes scanning over you one more time, “I hear Cameron hides some top shelf shit up in his room,” he said with a shrug of his shoulders. “Wanna go check it out?”

Alarm bells go off in your brain - the part that’s still somewhat aware of what’s happening. You stay silent, but you shake your head a little. Your mind says no. Your body also says no. But the strong hand suddenly wrapped around your wrist says ‘you don’t have a choice.’

—

“Come on, JJ,” John B says, putting the twinkie in park.

JJ groaned, “why the fuck do I have to go in? Didn’t you say it would take ‘literally two seconds,’” he mocked him in a deep voice.

John B rolls his eyes, “just come the fuck on. You can grab a couple free beers,” he said with a slight smirk, knowing that would get him.

JJ huffs, shaking his head as he opens the passenger seat door, then slamming it shut.

“I just have to drop off Sarah's bag she left at my place, then we’ll be out of here. 5 minutes, tops.”

“Whatever,” JJ mutters, leaning against the wall and sipping a beer. He lets out an irritated sigh, eyes mindlessly scanning around the party. Maybe he’d find someone with something better than shitty beer.

His eyes go past two figures on the stairs, immediately doing a double take. His eyes narrow at the scene, and then he recognizes you. You, who he hasn’t seen in years. His eyes stay on you for a couple moments, but once the shock leaves him, he notices the other figure. A guy, a kook he barely recognizes dragging you up the steps.

“Ouch,” he reads your lips from across the room, unable to hear over the music and voices around him.

That’s all it takes for JJ to snap out of his trance of shock, pushing himself off the wall and rushing toward the stairs. He pushes his way through the crowd, bumping shoulders with everyone in his way. “Hey!” he calls out, finally in range of you and the kook dragging you up the stairs. He moves up the stairs, placing himself in between you and the douche bag. “Get off of her,” JJ says through gritted teeth, eyeing his grip on your arm. You look up at him, the look in your eyes grateful even though you’re not entirely aware of the situation.

“The fuck’s your problem, Maybank?” the guy barks out, letting go of you to use both his hands to shove JJ’s chest.

JJ doesn’t flinch, the only movement in his body being the clench of his jaw. “Leave the girl alone,” he says lowly, eyes flickering to you just for a moment.

Jackson chuckles, “this is none of your business, pogue. We were just heading upstairs to talk, right y/n?”

You gulp, leaning against the wall for support, your head spinning. “I-” you start, before realizing words won’t make it past the tip of your tounge. Your eyes meet JJ’s, and all you can do is shake your head and hope he knows what to do.

“Son of a bitch,” JJ mutters. He pulls his arm back, only a second before his fist makes contact with Jackson’s face, his body immediately making contact with the wall.

Small gasps are heard from all around the room, but the intrigue of the scene only lasts a moment before people go back to how they were before.

Your eyes trail down to Jackson’s practically limp body slumped up against the wall. Relief floods through your body, and suddenly you feel even dizzier than you did before. “Hey, hey,” JJ’s hands are suddenly on your hips, supporting your weight. “Are you alright? Did he hurt you?”

“No,” you manage to croak out, your throat closed up tightly and tears welling in your eyes unwillingly. “I wanna- I wanna go home, JJ,” you say, your voice lower than a whisper.

JJ nods intently, “of course. I’ll take you, okay?” he asks for confirmation.

You simply nod, slinging your arm around his neck. JJ keeps his arm tightly around your waist as he guides you down the stairs and toward the front door. He practically carries you all the way out to the Twinkie, and he helps you into the passengers seat.

“I’ll be right back, okay? Just gotta get the keys,” he says, giving your leg a gentle squeeze.

You nod lazily, your eyes squeezed shut and your head against the headrest.

JJ comes back a few minutes later, keys in hand. “I’m sure John B won’t mind staying the night there,” he mumbled as he slides into the drivers seat. He glances over at you, “you still doing alright?”

“Mhm,” you hum softly, eyes opening to meet his, “thank you.”

JJ smiles a little, the look in his eyes still filled with worry, “let’s get you home.”

You nod, shutting your eyes again in attempt to stop the headache you can already feel creeping in. On the drive home, you go over the events that just took place in your head; what you remember of them, anyways.

Your hand traces over the red mark on your arm, and you can practically still feel Jackson’s hand wrapped tightly around it. Along with that, the ache in your stomach came back, the terrified feeling that you’d had had you were pulled up the stairs; as with every step, you lost a little more of your free will.

You hadn’t realized that your breathing had become deeper-more scattered, until JJ’s hand was on you, just above your knee. “Hey,” he said softly, lightly shaking your leg. “Are you okay?”

You let out a shaky breath, placing your hand over his and squeezing tightly. “Yeah, yeah I think so,” you breathe out, looking out the window and only then realizing that’d you’d made it home.

JJ’s eyes stay on you, rapidly searching your eyes to see if you were telling the truth. The look he finds in your eyes is the same one he could see from all away across the room at the party: scared. “Let’s go inside, okay?” he says softly, the look on your face making his heart clench.

You nod slowly, moving to open the door. “I got it, I got it, I got it,” JJ said quickly, jumping out of the Twinkie and running to open your door for you.

You let out a laugh for the first time of the night, your chest feeling a little less heavy as JJ scooped you up in his arms and carried you all the way to your bedroom.

JJ grabs you some comfier clothes, after being told which drawers to look through. He helps you take your makeup off, and run a brush through your hair so it won’t be tangled in the morning.

By the end of your long routine, the effect of the alcohol is wearing off slightly, and now you just feel sick. And oh-so tired. “M’gonna sleep now,” you say with a yawn, lying yourself down on your bed under the covers that JJ had moved over for you.

JJ nods with a small smile, looking over you one more time. “I’ll head out, then. Anything else you need?”

Your heart clenches at the thought of being alone, “could you-” you take a breath, “could you stay, maybe? Just until I fall asleep.”

JJ’s eyes soften, instantly nodding. “Course,” he says simply, kicking his shoes of and lying on the bed next to you, on top of the covers.

You try to sleep, you really do. But your thoughts keep you wide awake. You replay the events of the night in your head, over and over again. And no matter how many times you do, you can’t get over how lucky you were that JJ was there.

“Hey, JJ?” you ask softly, unable to stop yourself as the thoughts in your still slightly drunken mind became too hard to ignore.

“Yeah?”

“Do you ever feel like..” you pause for a moment, searching for the right words. “Like there’s something that pulls us together? Like me and you?”

JJ’s body shifts toward you at your words, “what do you mean?”

You take in a breath, “I dunno, like-” you shift on the bed, body now facing him. “Remember when we first met? On my first day of 4th grade?” He nods. “I was so petrified of starting at a new school. I was positive that it was going to be the worst experience of my life. But then, Zoe Lambert happened to be sick that day, and I just happened to have to sit in that seat next to you. And something about you, JJ, I don’t know what it was, but it made me feel like maybe everything would be okay. It was like meeting you in that moment was exactly what I needed,” you spoke softly, not meeting his eyes. His silent intrigue made you go on, “Then at the 7th grade Halloween Dance. Jackson Brantley stood me up, and I was devastated. Sitting on the bleachers, all alone in my Jessie costume, I was fully ready to leave the dance and go cry myself to sleep. But then, I saw you who just happened to be dressed in a Woody costume. What was about to go down as my most embarrassing night, turned into one of the most fun nights I’ve ever had. Just because you happened to be there in the other half of my couples costume. And then…tonight,” you finally looked up to meet his eyes, which were already looking at you intently. “JJ, I don’t know what would have happened if you weren’t there,” you were whispering now, not trusting your own voice.

“But I was,” he says softly, hand reaching out to the side of your face. “Nothing happened, okay? You’re safe,” he reassures, eyes scanning yours rapidly.

You offer him a small smile, “I know,” you say, bringing your hand up to tighten around his. “Because you just happened to be there,” you add.

JJ smiles a little, mind going back to what you were saying before.

something pulling you together

“I never realized how weird it was, the ways we’ve run into each other over the years. It’s almost like-” he starts, only stopping when his eyes came back to yours.

“Like what?” you breathe out, voice barely above a whisper.

“Fate?” he offers, a questioning tone of his voice.

“Fate,” you repeat softly, a smile playing at your lips as you think about it. “That must be it,” you come to the conclusion aloud.

You let out a breath, relieved that you’ve finally spoken to JJ about the thought that’s been poking at the back of your mind for years now.

Your previous exhaustion comes back to you quickly, and before you can stop yourself, you lay your head on JJ’s chest. You feel JJ’s fingers comb through your hair, his steady breath hitting your forehead.

Before you drift to sleep, your last lazy thought slips out of your mouth, “kinda like an invisible little string.”

taglist(lmk if you want added!): @rafes-bae @willowpains @housekeeperjjswife @addisbooks @sofiatheseconf @rafecameronsofine @rosie-anne

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suraemoon · 8 months ago

Note

Could I please request jealous Rosie hcs or Rosie reaction when you are the initiate the first move hcs. Thank you 😊

I’ll admit right now that the turn out time for this is embarrassing. You’ve caught me in…I think the most stressful week of 2024 so far buttt here we are. My deepest apologies. I’ll be better. Here’s some Rosie. 🌹

Jealousy, Jealousy:

Rosie is very protective of his girl but not overbearing. He knows how secure the relationship is and trusts you to make good decisions. But, of course he notices when another man is getting a little too friendly. When at public places, Rosie doesn’t usually get far enough away for stuff to like this to happen, but due to how drop dead gorgeous you are (the pretty smile that can brighten up anyone’s day, the sparkling eyes that resemble a steady pond, the million dollar legs that give Betty Grable a run for her money) the bold men stay bold. Laughing at things that aren’t meant to be jokes, getting a little too close, etc. He is the king of passive aggression and snark. It’s so obvious that he’s annoyed. Just by the tone of his voice, anyone with common sense can tell he isn’t amused.

An arm wrapped around your waist, interlocking fingers, a random kiss to the temple.

Increased use of the words “us” and “we”

Just plain out saying that you’re his ____ (girlfriend, fiancée, wife, etc)

He’s not subtle but that’s because he has no reason *to* be subtle. He’ll happily let the whole would know he’s yours and you’re his. He’ll redirect conversations, end them as soon as possible, whisk you away into the crowd.

The next day he casually comes across the same man while you’re at home, safe and absolutely clueless of the intersection. That talk isn’t pretty, I’ll tell you that. He’s a lawyer, he has a way with words. It’s direct, serious, and straight to the point. It’s in his job description to argue but it isn’t really an argument, due to the fact that the other man is left terrified of Rosie. Stood frozen in place, shocked. It’s like getting yelled at by a stern parent. Let’s just say…you never see that man again and if you do, he steers clear of your path like you’re a black cat on a halloween night.

A Feminine First Move:

Anon, you’ve got the thought of Rosie’s reaction to a girl making the first move stuck in my head and it’s so adorable. I’m thinking it happens when he first comes to Thorpe Abbotts and is so awkward and dorky. (Talking about flying planes in underwear, you know…the usual) His nickname is Rosie for more reasons then one, he has the prettiest blush. When you walk up to him offering a drink at the bar followed by a slow dance to the romantic jazz of the band, his cheeks are a shade of pink for the whole rest of the night. He’s taken back over how a girl as pretty as you can be so invested, so quick. Imagine his awkward conversation fillers; your siren eyes are so distracting, staring deep into his soul. You listen intently to every single word, a trait that’s appreciated but nervewracking at the same time. He stutters as he talks, trying not to bring up anything embarrassing that would bring it all to ruin.

He tries to keep up with your flirting by replying with some romantic remarks of his own. Soon he gets into the groove and you two have such a magnetic energy. It’s dazzling, it’s exciting, it’s everything. He really gets into his element once the surprise wears off. That doesn’t stop him from reverting back to his dorky, adorable self once you give him a kiss goodnight, your red lipstick on his pink cheek. He waits until your out of sight to dance his way to bed. You two dream of eachother that night. It’s the blossoming of something new, something special.

the dancing i’m talking about lol

#rosie rosenthal #mota #masters of the air #robert rosenthal x reader #robert rosenthal #masters of the air fanfiction #masters of the air fanfic #mota fanfic #mota blurbs #mota fanfiction #rosie x reader #rosie rosenthal x reader

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malakaiiswriting · 28 days ago

Text

Stay By My Side | L. Tomlinson

A/N | Hi, I'm Malakai! I've never written about real people properly before, and wanted to give it a go. Since the passing of Liam Payne, bless him, my childhood obsession band, One Direction has become a new fixation, so why not try my most admired member? Thanks for reading, my lovelies <3

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Summary | Louis and Y/N have been together for quite a few years, engaged, with the soon to be Mrs. Tomlinson pregnant. They go on a night out with the band and a couple others, only for Y/N's adhd to become distracted, and leading herself and sister away from the group.

Warnings | Sexual harassment. Over-protective Louis. Possessive Louis. Cigarettes. Alcohol consumption. Adhd and autistic aspects (I have adhd and autism, comfort >) not proof read :|

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"Stay by my side." Louis had always been wary of you're attention span in crowded places, how your anxiety can cause your brain to wonder, and you end up going off left while he is still walking forward. He guided you, and often helped you find coping skills to keep you in sight within public spaces. He loved you too much to allow you to face the challenges alone, and you loved him for it.

"I know Lou, I'll do my best. You got my location?" You and Louis after your first year together added each to Life 360, giving a good idea of where the other was, and making it easier for phone calls when he is touring, so you could see if he was on the road. Or in a plane. And he could often check if you have left him to go into a quiet cafe, or book store. Or just a simple shop that caught your attention and you forgot to mention it to him.

He held your hand as you left your shared apartment complex, feeling the flow of her thighs length black dress dance around your skin from the light breeze, tickling the gasp in your fishnets. Louis loved your style, edgy, but but cute, with lush pale blushed skin, and nice thick eyeliner, making your almond shaped orbs really pop. "Niall is bring Emily, so you get to see your sister too!"

Niall Horan and your sister, Emily met two years ago when she joined you to Louis birthday get together with close family and friends. They got on like a flurried love at first sight. "Yay, need to nag her about visiting mother with me." you chuckled gently, kissing Louis knuckles as he helped you into the taxi, shutting your door and making his way to the other side. Your hand found it's way to your stomach, a four month old pregnancy slowly showing through, and you wanted to surprise you're mother with the news sooner rather than later, with your sister and Louis. The band knew of it.

The taxi pulled from the curb and Louis hand was quick to be placed over top of yours, feeling the small bump forming, singing softly. "So excited." He grinned, sky orbs lighting up at the thoughts of seeing you in that hospital gown, holding your little bundle of joy within a blue or pink blanket, your hair sweaty and down, loose, messy, eyes tired, yet full of love.

"As am I. Will have to get them a one direction onesie." You teased the band member, who's eyes rolled, leaning over to place a kiss upon your cheek and moving your hand over to his thigh, holding it there. The drivers eyes focused on the road ahead, city lights of London gleaming down on you and the Yorkshire male through the black tinted windows. Eyes eyes, slightly hazy from nerves of going out in a crowded area, glimmered at the sights of Halloween decoration plastered around, with cute pumpkins, and green witches on brooms.

It made you excited for when your little one would arrive into this world, to explore, to play and to be protected, and grow up loved.

The cab pulled up next to a night club and Louis paid and left the car, coming around to you're side and helping you out, slinging your arm with his. "Cheers mate." you both waved the driver off, then entered the club, music filling you're ears like a needle pierce to you're eardrums. Suddenly, arms engulphed you from the side and a small gasp left you're lips, Louis arm tightening around yours until you're sisters voice filled you're ears.

"Eeee! Haven't seen you in a while!" she giggled as your arm left Louis to wrap around you're sisters torso, pulling her close. She worked as a fashion designer, so travel was normal for Emily. You were an author, so you didn't have to travel, but often you'd join the band on their tours and what not.

"Hi! Love your hair!" you complimented her as Niall walked over with Liam and Harry, leaving Zayn to buy the drinks from across the room. After greeting with the other, including Liam gifting you a gift as a congratulation on the pregnancy, you all made you're way over to Zayn at the bar, merging through herds of people dancing. Or, spotting the boys and squealing excitedly. However, guards were spaced around to ensure nothing would happened to them.

The night was going well, the boys sat at the bar chatting, while Emily had somehow managed to drag you're shy ass onto the dance floor, moving together with many chuckles and shakingly taken selfies together with silly and cute snapchat filters. "We still need to visit mom, you know?" you bought up, making the girl before you groan, sipping from her tequila.

"You can't keep avoiding it, Em. She misses you." you could remember the argument Emily and your mother had many months ago, the screaming, the slamming of doors, and Louis arms protecting you from the loud noises that were becoming increasing overstimulating.

"I know, I know.." she replied while your lips met the rim of the glass of your pink lemonade Louis brought you. "I just.. ugh, come to the bathroom." she took your spare hand, pulling you with her. Your eyes flashed to Louis, his back towards you, being dragged into a selfie with Liam and Harry. He wasn't controlling, no, but just liked to know if you were to the toilet or not, mostly to keep an eye on you're drink to save having to take it with you.

As the girls to the women's toilets close, the break from blasting music became a blessing, hearing it in the background, with ringing from you're eardrums. "Look, I've tried calling mom,, but she won't bloody answer me." Emily explained, "You know she's petty, and I just can't handle that. I've apologized for what I did, and she won't meet me halfway."

You understood, your mother had always been that way really, never truly taking blame for anything she ever did. "I know Em... but maybe if we both go there? I could always have a word with her?" Emily reached over, brushing your fringe behind your ear and smiling softly.

"You shouldn't have to do that though. One, you're my baby sister,, it should be me caring for you. And two, I don't want you to feel the wrath of our mother over something that isn't your fault." she thought for a moment, finishing her drink and casually leaving the glass on the sink side. "Look, if we both go, I'll try okay? But I'm staying in a hotel?"

You accepted her offer grinning happily and joining her for a few mirrors selfies before you both walked back to the main club room. But there was a problem. The boys weren't anywhere in sight. Or more, between you're sister being almost drunk, and you not remembering where the bar actually was, you both ended going the wrong way, now finding a different side of the club, more filled with large men watching the football and playing darts.

"Oops,, wrong side. Come on." Emily grasped you're wrist, but another voice interrupted you both, a large barrel chest blocking you're way from going back down the hall towards the bathrooms.

"Where are yer' two pretty things goin'?" a faint accent, possibly scouse and suddenly, just from the look of this mans dirty beard, and bad beer smell, you felt something was off. Emily, being the brave one of the two of you, answered how she usually would, placing herself in-between the both of you, looking up at him fearlessly.

"Back to our boyfriends, and friends. Excuse you." Emily shoved her way passed him, but as she tried to pull you, he got back in the way, causing her grip on your hand to break and leave. "Hey, move your ass." she spat, while the other men in this quieter, more duller side of the bar just turned their heads blindly, as the barmen was not there, possibly grabbing more bottles from the backroom.

Your heart began to pound, wishing you had just paid attention. Curse it. Feeling your eyes sting, you attempted to soft talk this man. "Please, can I get passed you, sir?" you're gentle tone and doe like eyes allured him, and he advanced towards you, still keeping you're sister blocked who began to panic, pushing on his shoulder.

"Dude, shift it!" she commanded, but he just ignored her, eyes glued to yours.

"Mm.. let me buy yer' a drink first, babe, then yer' can go, hm?" he grinned at you, that strong, god awful beer smell coming from his mouth. You could feel you're hands beginning to shake, becoming overstimulated and honestly quite annoyed. Slowly, you placed you're drink down on the side, making sure both hands were free to use, however, unlike your sister, fit and carrying quite a good hair of fists, you did not.

"Sir, please, I..I need the toilet." purposely, you placed you're left hand over you're small bump, but it only made him smirk wider, eyes moving to the clearage of you're breasts from the lowish cut dress. He shook his head, pointing to a different women's toilets on the other side of the room you where in.

"Go over there, bird." Bird. You hated that term. And apparently so did Emily as she smacked the back of his hand, and you could see his fists balling.

"Get. The fuck. Out. Of. Her. Way." Emily's voice was threatening, but not as threatening and as the three other men who crowded around you. An idea came to mind, and you looked over at you're sister, her eyes meeting yours.

"Em." you spoke, and she shook her head at you, but you nodded back. 'Get the boys' you mouthed silently, and she frantically shook her head, but you nodded again. "Please." you spoke, making the men's heads look down towards you. Emily practically groaned, and quickly moved back,, pulling out her phone and frantically searching for a phone number, while the men's attention fell back onto you.

"Want us to yer'self girl?"

"What's your name?"

"Where you from? Lovely voice." all of them were scousers, except one with more on a London accent, and quickly you felt small, reaching into you're purse in search of you're phone. However, a large hand on you're shoulder made you flinch, and you quickly gasped, turning around to face the other three men.

"Go on babe, you said you needed the loo,, didn't you?" he smirked, a smell of whiskey hitting your nostrils. Your world began to spin, and you could see your sister hurriedly walking back towards the girls toilets belonging to then nightclub. You realized there was probably no service, and she was going to fetch a guard close by, but was there really enough time?

Another hand came, grasping your chin and suddenly a small tear fell down your face, causing one of the men to coo at you. 'Where the hell is the barman?' came to mind, before an idea sprung, a stupid idea, but an idea no less. Quickly, you ran towards the women's toilets, the smell absolutely awful and quickly locked the front of the door, eyes scanning all three stalls for any windows.

However, with your ears ringing, lips trembling, knees becoming jelly, and mind spinning with a thousand questions of 'why me?', 'where's Emily?', 'I want Louis.' you just could not focus. Loud bangs came from the other side. "Unlock the door, bird."

"Come on, we ain't gonna hurt ya." You covered you're ears, sinking down to the fall and crying into you're knees, breathing quickly and envisioning just what would happen if they managed to bang down the door. They definitely weren't far off, as you spotted the rusted lock. The door rattled against you're back, and you could feel you're feet becoming numb with pins and needles beneath you. "Louis... please..." you hushed softly to yourself, needing your fiancé, you're comfort person.

Another bang, now the barman's voice could be heard faintly, asking them what they were doing. They lied, saying "Sorry mate, me' wife's gone and got mad at me. She's locked herself in. Come on, bird, come out please." his tone, holding a tone of threat yet fake love, came through, while you could feel the pit in you're stomach growing. Those chicken wraps you and Louis ate earlier threatening to make a reappearance alongside the pink lemonade, and non alcoholic gin you had.

"Louis... Zayn.. anyone.." you mumbled, the lock rattling with each bang on a large fist. This is what you did to yourself, you thought, your the one who forgot which way the bloody nightclub was from the run down pub behind it. Curse you. Fuck you. You could feel yourself crumbling into tiny pieces. Louis told you to stay in sight, he told you to tell him when you were going to the toilet.

"Stay by my side.'' replayed in your mind, more tears flowing down you're face, heart clenching. As soon as this lock broke, it was over. any things could happen, so long as that barman didn't believe you're tears were cause by these men, not by one of them being 'Husband'.

"Louis.." you sobbed. Then suddenly, voices. Many voices. Guards, Louis's voice, Emily, Niall, Liam, Harry, Zayn. They had come You could hear the guards taking the men away by force, while Louis's voice, full of rage basically growled at the barmen, asking where the hell you were.

Emily however, knocked on the locked bathroom door. "Y/N?" she asked, and as much as you wanted to speak, you couldn't, that urge to become you're overestimated nonverbal self taking over in one of the worst possible moments ever. So, quickly, you knocked twice on the door. Then again a second time. A knock you always did on you're sisters front door when visiting.

"She's in here!"

"Y/N? Y/N, open the door, baby! It's me!" Louis banged on it a couple times, and a few from the lock fell, making a sharp noise against the dirty concrete floor. That broke you, realizing just close those men were from breaking in. Slowly you moved, standing to you're feet and cracking the door open, peeking out with red, puffy orbs. Louis basically crashed into you, almost knocking the pair of you over if it wasn't for you're hand gripping the door handle, as he forced you into his chest, head burying into his neck.

His arms caved you in, being only a couples inches taller them you, and you welcomed it completely, breathing in his scent and warmth. Niall's hand found you're shoulder, giving it a tight squeeze, his other arm around you're trembling sisters shoulders. "I got you... bloody hell, I got you..." you could feel him shaking, from anger,, from fear. It felt awful to make him feel that way simply because you forgot.

Suddenly you pushed you away, but grasped you're cheeks in his palms. "I-I told you to stay by my side! Where- what?" the panic in his tone caused more tears to fall from you're eyes. Harry tried to calm him down, but suddenly Louis moved the pair of you further into the bathroom, and shut the door, gently pushing you against it.

"What even.. you know what- I- ugh..." he buried his face into the crook of you're neck, holding you closely to him and taking in you're perfume. His lips met your skin, kissing up your neck and feeling the taste of you're tears of his buds. "Doesn't fucking matter, tell me later. Just let me.."

You welcomed him, parting your thighs in order to give the man space to possess you, the comfort of his mouth sucking in your skin and marking it purple. "Mine.. fuck sake... why couldn't you listen to me...? Trying to give me a heart attack.." he mumbled against your jaw, coming up and catching your lips before your mind could even think of a reply. His tongue swiped across your bottom lip and you gladly gave him access, needing to erase where those men touched you. Said to you. Intended to do to you."

It seems Mr. Tomlinson read your mind, grumbling against you, "Where did they touch you...?",, and your eyes gestured to your shoulder,, which he quickly followed. "Shoulder's? Yeah darlin'? Okay.." he moved down the left strap of your dress, kissing across the skin, and nipping at it gently, his hands moving to hold your, rubbing your knuckles soothingly. "No need to talk, love, just show me." he knew you so well, and made you feel safe.

He moved to your other shoulder lowering the straps and placing soft kisses and nips across the tender skin making the shaking of both your bodies, drowning out all the words those men said to you, all the times they laid their dirty fucking fingers on you. He moved back to face you, redoing your dress straps and cupped the back of your head, playing with a few strand of hair.

"Now, you and I, are going home. First, you having something to eat, baby needs growing after all that stress, and then secondly, I am going to completely erase those fucking bastards from you." he then glanced around at the space you both stood in. "And before all that, we're takin' a goddamn shower." you could only nod, clinging to his arm as he began to open the bathroom door.

"Stay by my bloody side."

"I know, my love.." you whispered, placing a kiss to his cheek, letting him guide you.

#louis tomlinson #first post #louis one direction #louis x reader #writers #fanfic #fanfiction #xreaders #louis tomlinson x reader #adhd #autism #reader insert #one direction #love #love story

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darlingsfandom · 1 year ago

Text

Little Lamb

AU: Priest Cillian x Fem Reader!

Father Murphy x Fem Reader!

Warnings: Angst! Religious themes, loss of virginity, age gap, p in v, raw sex. Priest kink!

It burned, the bitter taste of jealousy dancing on your tongue as you watched your priest simply talking to one of the church moms. Jealousy and lust have been running through your veins for years. Your family moved to town when you were only six years old and at the time church was fun! All the stories about Noah's ark and all the animals but you're not a child anymore. You grew up in this church watching all the new babies be blessed, all the family picnics, trunk or treats over the years and when you reached puberty it was terrible. You only had one person in mind, Father Murphy. He was double your age, a man of god! He watched you grow there was no way he'd ever look at you in the devils light. He was always sweet to you, thanked you for all your time involved with the church, he'd even let you take some extra candy during Halloween for your help, but you'd refuse because you were worried about your soul.

Soul? You scoffed at the memory while you stood in the cafeteria of the church helping clean up the tables after everyone else left besides a few goers that liked to have a silent prayer up by the alter. You were convinced you had no soul. You were old enough to decide on your own who you wanted to be and now that you were living on your own you were trying to figure new things out, but one thing never changed: your feelings for father Murphy. You stood there clenching a tray tightly as you watched Father Murphy talk to the church mom, your nostrils flared when her hand ran over his arm. Something snapped inside of you causing the metal tray to fall to floor with a loud clank. Both of them looked in your direction making your face heat up with embarrassment. The air became thick as you quickly picked up the tray and tossed it to its correct spot before sprinting off towards your safe spot in the church.

Bubbles of jealousy stirred in your stomach as you hid in the storage closet that kept all the decorations for the holidays. A soft knock came on the door making your body freeze out of fear.

"Y/N? I know you're in there? Are you okay?" Father Murphy spoke softly as you moved around the decorations to slowly open the door. "Oh my, what's the matter?" His hand gently grabbed your cheek. His scanned every black stained tear on your cheeks, darkened pupils and redness bursting on your cheeks.

"It's non of your concern father!" Your words spit out like venom as you removed his hand from your face before turning your face back into the room.

"You are in the house of God! You do not speak that way to your priest." Father Murphy grabbed your arm, pulling you forward and stumbling on your feet.

"I'm in the house of sin!"

"And what does that mean my child?"

"Ask that whore you were just all over!"

Before you could speak a sharp sting came across your face as father Murphy had slapped you in the mouth. You grabbed your face in shock.

"I'm sorry to have done that you my child.. but..

"I'm not a child!" You blurted out before stomping your foot. Father Murphy straightened himself out before grabbing your hand and taking you back into his office. His office has not changed once in over fifteen years everything was the same. You sat down on the old leather cracked chair as he sat down at his desk with his hands folded.

"Would you like to explain yourself for dat little outburst?" He leaned forward with stern eyes lingering over you while you sat there with your exposed legs crossed over each other while slightly swinging your black heel off your foot and arms crossed under your chest to push your breasts up out of your yellow sundress. You chewed on the inside of your cheek while looking out the window of his office before he cleared his throat to make you look back at him.

"I already told you!" Your words were lashing out and he couldn't believe your attitude. This wasn't you. Not his sweet little lamb. Father Murphy had watched you grow. He even gave you the sex talk when you were seventeen because your parents had caught you almost kissing a boy when you were studying. He couldn't understand how you've become so twisted.

"Lashing out, stomping your feet, calling people names, tats actin like a child. Now tell me, wats ta matter wit ya?" His voice was filled with concern this time.

You huffed. "Like you actually care."

"Of course I care, if I didn't I wouldn't have ya in here. Why'd ya tink I didn't care bout ya?"

You unfolded your arms and placed your hands on your lap before smoothing your dress. Blood was pumping like crazy through out your veins when you straightened up and looked dead into his eyes.

"Ever since she showed up at the church, you've acted like I don't exist! You've tossed me aside like a cheap whore! Well I got news for you father , I'm not a whore! I've been saving myself for you since you gave me the sex talk years ago! I've never even touched myself not once! Never even kissed a boy because of you! And she waltzed right in here and suddenly I'm not yours anymore! I'm not special to you anymore! I'm nothing to you!" Your eyes bursted with stinging tears as your heart ripped out of your chest. Father Murphy quickly shot up of his chair before he wrapped his arms around you.

"None of that is true my little lamb! Well at least the last part. Of course you're special to me. I watched you grow into a beautiful young lady. I've always been there for you. Just because we have a new member of the church doesn't mean I'd forget you !" His fingers trailed down your back slowly while you hid your face in his chest. Father Murphy moved his hand up to your hair and stroked your hair making you calm down until you were breathing normally.

Father Murphy pulled away slowly to look at your face. His thumbs wiped away your tears as he held your face in his hands. Both of you stood there silently searching for something in each others eyes. You sighed softly before he cupped your chin and lifted it upwards. His eyes scanned over you again before stepping away to grab something from his desk. He grabbed your hand while holding his prayer beads and walked out of his office until you two were standing at the altar. No one was around , even she had left which made you happy, but father Murphy pulling on your hand brought you back.

"Kneel before me." He had his head held high.

You kneeled before placing your hands in your lap with soft eyes glancing up at him until he placed the beads around your neck like a necklace.

"Y/N , you have admitted to the sin of jealousy and lust. Ta lord has heard of your sins. As your priest I may cleanse ya of yer sins if you ask for it. I shall take away yer sins and re bless your soul if ya dedicate yerself ta me and only me. God knows yer dedicated him days why were asking for his blessing for us!" His hand stayed placed on your head as he spoke. "Do you child, truly wish ta be mine and only mine? To be me only love?" His voice broke a little which made you place your hand over his and pull yourself to up.

"Father Murphy, I poured myself to you. I don't want you to pity me. Do you truly have feelings and urges for me?" Your eyes were pleading as he looked into yours.

"As God as our witness, I have. I have wanted ya for a long time but being a priest ... and you being so young!" You placed your fingers over his lips before standing up straight as his hands cupped your face, his lips connected to yours slowly. Your noses bumped against each other making you giggle which made him smile.

Something took over in you as father Murphy kissed you again. Your hands ran up his chest before clutching onto it. His hands gripped onto your arms making you whimper against his lips. "Take me father, please." Both of you had just declared each other as yours before he grabbed your hands and took you back into his office. He looked through his stuff before grabbing a set of keys. He took you to a room that you had never seen before, the door lead down into a basement that was surprisingly in excellent condition.

"Father? What is this ?" You asked following him down. When he flipped the light switch on you seen that it was fully furnished with a queen sized bed, simple black and white bedding, a statue of the Virgin Mary and lots of candles.

"Tis is where I live sweetheart." Father Murphy walked you over and sat you down on the edge of his bed before sitting next to you. His hand rested upon your knee giving it a squeeze which made you tingle.

"Take me father, please?" His hand rubbed against your cheek, pulled you in closer and kissed you gently. His tongue pushed against your lips which you open your lips slightly so he could slide his tongue in. He tasted like coffee and toothpaste. Fever rushed over your body making you climb into his lap. Father Murphy held your hips while licking your tongue before pulling away. You leaned back into him and wrapped your lips around the tip of tongue, sucking gently his hands ran over your back while pulling down the zipper on your dress. The fabric fell down exposing your white silky bra to him. Father Murphy pushed you off carefully and stood you up so your dress could pool around your ankles.

"Wow, my little lamb, ya really did blossom into a beautiful woman!" His hands ran down your curves giving your love handles a squeeze before turning you around to look at your ass. Your cheeks turned pink when you felt his hand gripping your ass. "Such a beautiful woman." His lips attacked the back of your neck. Your knees felt weak making you grip his arm as he wrapped it around your waist. Father Murphy continued to kiss your neck while groping your breasts from behind and pressing his hard on against your ass.

In a matter of seconds Father Murphy had your bra unhooked on the floor and you laying on your back on his bed.

"Yer a goddess, I know shouldn't say tat but tis true!" He unbuttoned his pants slowly while you laid there biting your bottom lip. His pants were on the ground before he climbed back into bed with you. His fingers trailed over your thighs while looking into your eyes. The air was thick again , your heart was going to burst into a million pieces . How is this real life? How is this happening when a few moments ago you were pouring your heart out.

Father Murphy kneeled above you grabbing your plush thighs and pulling them up to look down at your sex. It was glistening with your arousal as he looked at in awe before looking into your eyes. He leaned into you brushing his dick against your pussy so he could kiss you gently. His fingers laced with yours while he looked at you again. You were below him with such pink kissable lips, your neck covered his small bruises from his kisses, the way his prayer bead hung on your neck and laid between your breasts, you were his personal porn star. The only thing he left you in besides his beads was your heels.

"Tank ya Lord fer me little lamb. She's been a holy girl til now, she's mine. She's da perfect woman tat I've always needed and wanted. May ya bless her lord as we act in sin, she might be da devil ta others but she's perfect fer me." Father Murphy prayed above you. His words struck your core making your thighs clench before he opened them again.

"Just tell me if ya need me to stop sweetheart!" Father Murphy grabbed your hand and placed it over his heart before he slid the head of his aroused cock inside of you slowly. Your nose scrunched up as a tear dare shed from your eye while he pushed into you. "I have ya darlin, just relax." His cock twitched inside of you.

This was all new yet familiar to you. Your nails dug into his shirt pulling the fabric a little you felt the sting slowly disappear. The room suddenly felt full like everyone was watching the two of you, but when you looked back into Father Murphys eyes you felt safe, loved, protected. His free hand pressed against your cheek and stroked it gently as he gave one final push because now he was all the way inside of you.

"Oh! Fuck!" You cried out as your hips flew up making him moan at the sudden motion.

"It's okay darlin, I'm all the way inside of you." His fingers traced along your jawline before moving over your nipples giving them each a pinch before he slowly started thrusting into you. It was a little weird and messy as he held your hips making sure to get an angle that felt good since you laid there whimpering. Once he held your hips up and slightly twisted his fat cock was hitting you just right making you moan his name while dragging your warm hands over his sweaty chest.

"Yer so pretty like tis , yer always pretty but us actin in sin together ! Ya really could be a little devil!" Your lips curved into a smirk while he thrusted in and out of you at a faster pace making the smirk turn into an O! Your eyes locked in on his as a weird feeling waved over your body.

"Stop stop stop! Father I feel funny!" You tried to push him away when he grabbed your wrist and slowly stopped.

"Wat are ya feelin?"

"Like my insides are going to burst, my nipples are sore ... I ..

"Yer gonna cum honey! It's your first orgasm! It's gonna be okay. I got ya, just relax and let go!" His words went right to your core! Your body jolted forward and with a cry of his name you were dragging your nails into his arms while squeezing your eyes shut. You collapsed into his chest while his own orgasm hit him hard. He filled you with his cum making your eyes widen as he groaned into your ear.

Father Murphy pulled out of you slowly while gently laying you back down on the bed. He disappeared for a second before coming back with a wet wash cloth and slowly cleaned you up before getting into bed with you. "Don't ya worry honey. It's us now. No one will come between us. Yer me girl from now on."

"I thought priest couldn't have girlfriends." You curled into his side while he wrapped his arm around your waist. His fingers played with your hair while you laid your head on his chest.

"No priest can have girlfriends, I just waited for mine to finally get it out there." Father Murphy kissed your head gently before he gave you another kiss. This is all you ever wanted and you finally got it.

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