#i try to get to everything even though i get overwhelmed occasionally
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I love your caged lungs series so much but I had to take a break cause family stuff. Sorry for not commenting on every single chapter as they come out anymore 😔. I know you probably dont care but I felt as though we had a bond
HEY HEY NO BIGGIE!!! i completely understand!! miss you over here though <3 love all of my consistent commenters we do fr have something special
#ask#even if its not on every chapter i remember people who comment a lot#especially if they leave long comments and really interact with my work!!! i am very parasocial with them#they mean everything to me LMFAO#i try to get to everything even though i get overwhelmed occasionally
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Headcanon: When You're Having His Child...
Pairings: Dean Winchester x F. Reader, Beau Arlen x F. Reader, Soldier Boy/Ben x F. Reader
AN: This one is requested by @cevansbaby-dove, and is kind of a continuation of this imagine: When you have morning sickness.
Tags/Warnings: Potential fluff overload.
HC: How Dean, Beau, and Soldier Boy (Ben) would act while you're in labor.
Dean Winchester
Oh, sweet man...
Dean does the thing where he pretends he has his shit together.
He's really trying, for your sake, for his own, and to save face around Sam and Eileen and Jody and everyone else in the hospital waiting room.
They can see it, and he knows it: he's freaking the hell out.
When he's in the room with you, he's either helping you, holding your hand, waiting for you to be dilated enough to start the whole "having a baby" process, or pacing around on those bowlegs, occasionally dragging a hand over his mouth in that telltale nervous gesture.
"Babe, come 'ere," you say with strain. That last contraction really took it out of you. "You're making me even more nervous than I already am."
Dean goes to you and smooths a hand over your hair.
"Sorry, sweetheart. I'm sorry. How're you holding up?"
Tears well up in your eyes, but you try to breathe through it. You're overwhelmed, you're in pain, and you've been in labor for several hours already.
"We're ready for this, right?" you ask, squeezing his hand. He sits on the edge of your bed and makes sure you look him in the eyes.
"We're about to find out," he says, with a bit of teasing. But his gaze is steady when he brings your hand up to his lips. "You don't gotta worry about anything. I'm gonna be with you, come whatever, okay?"
You smile, because you don't just believe him. You know.
Because after years of fighting together, surviving together, living together, you know that this is just one more adventure you get to go on with him by your side.
Now, Dean would rather not see all the gritty details of the birth, but he stays in the delivery room, letting you squeeze the shit out of his hand. He's not going to leave your side. He's wiping sweat from your brow and encouraging you, being whatever kind of support you need.
After the baby's born and the nurses bring her back all cleaned up, Dean holds his daughter for the first time.
He has tears in his eyes. For a long moment, he doesn't even blink. He stares down at that small, perfect face. Already he sees some of your features in her.
He can't put into words how he feels. It's overwhelming in his chest. But one thing is certain...
Dean's never been more grateful to be alive than in this moment.
He blinks, and the first of his tears fall. He brings her to you, sitting down carefully on the edge of your bed again so you can hold her. You're beyond exhaustion, sweaty, and weeping, but one thing is certain...
You've never been more grateful for Dean than in this moment.
You turn to him, giving him a small smile. He returns it, and he leans in to give you a gentle kiss.
"Do you have a name picked out yet?" one of the nurses asks.
You and Dean share a look: his imploring, yours knowing.
"We're not naming her Baby," you warn him.
"Aw, come on."
Beau Arlen
Round 2! 🫡
Beau runs the gambit from excited, to anxious, to freaking the hell out, and back to excited.
This is "Round 2" for him. His second child. But he's had reservations about being an "older" father to a new baby. (He's pushing 50 at this point. No matter how much he keeps in shape, he still feels his age in his bowlegged knees.)
You've assured him that plenty of men have children at his age.
Regardless of his insecurities though, you know he's still over the moon. Beau has always wanted more kids, deep down, and now thanks to you, he's getting his wish.
He's the man who's "prepared for anything."
When your water broke, he already had your to-go bag ready with everything you might need.
But he continues to ask you questions from the moment he's got you out the door to the drive over to the hospital, and even in the lobby.
"You thirsty? You comfortable like that? How's the pain? Just breathe, baby. I gotcha. Watch your step now. You hungry? We've got protein bars in the bag, unless you're cravin' something else. First things first, let's check in. Oh, I hope we can getcha in a private room. Let's see--oh damn, they sure are packed today, huh? Okay, how're you holdin' up? How's the pain, level of 1 to 10? Yep, got it, hold my hand. Just breathe through it. I gotcha."
Bless him. The man means well, but he's driving you freakin' crazy.
"Beau, I know. If you don't take a breath, I'm gonna pop you in the damn nose."
He tries not to smile at your grumpiness. "...Okay, I hear ya. Let's just get you into your room."
He rarely leaves your side during the entire labor, just to get you anything you might actually need. The radio at his belt occasionally goes off for work, but he apologizes, having forgotten to turn it off. He put Jenny in charge while he's gone.
"Let's just hope the precinct's still standing when I get back," he jokes. He finally turns off the radio and takes it off his belt, to your relief. And he returns his undivided attention to you.
Beau witnessed the birth of his daughter Emily, so he's no stranger to being in the delivery room. He even ventures past the curtain when your son is born, breathing air into his little lungs and letting out a powerful cry.
Beau laughs with tears in his eyes. "That's my boy."
When the nurses place him into your arms first, Beau supports your hold and brushes your sweaty hair back from your face. "Good job, honey. Good job."
"I know," you tease weakly.
Beau chuckles. He presses a lingering kiss to your forehead and looks down at the small bundle in your arms and his.
"We have a son," Beau says. His eyes are red and shining. "I have a son."
"You have a son," you nod. You look over at him and lean in for a kiss. He obliges you, and rests his forehead against yours afterwards.
Life is meant for moments like this, he thinks.
He's damn grateful it's with you.
Soldier Boy (Ben)
Readers of Strong as Blood in the BMD-verse will recognize some of this HC...
This day has been a long time coming, for both of you.
He smells like cigar smoke when he comes back into your recovery room. For which you have no doubt, Ben had been puffing away with Butcher and M.M. outside the hospital.
Ben was with you for most of the lead up to the birth, but you actually agreed that having him in the delivery room wasn't a good idea. He never did well with you in pain, and with his temper, he might just scare the shit out of the doctor and nurses.
He strides toward you though, when he enters the room. He lays a hand on your head and another on the baby's tuft of brown, downy hair.
"We have a daughter," you tell him, with a watery smile.
Part of him still twinges with disappointment. He didn't react well when he found out you weren't carrying a boy, his future son.
(You'd given him enough hell that he never brought up the subject again.)
But that all fades away when he looks down at his daughter's face.
He carefully sits on the edge of your bed, but he's suspended in time. His chest tightens in a way he's never experienced before.
It's almost like pain, but not. Not at all.
He brushes a thumb along the baby's soft cheek. He's almost hesitant to touch her, knowing how fragile she is.
"Beautiful, like her mother," he says at last. And he means it.
He earns your smile.
"Flatterer," you accuse. You know you look as wrecked as you feel. Somehow, none of that matter's whenever you look at your child's face.
You look over at Ben with a shining smile. His lips twitch. He leans in and meets your lips with a kiss, slow and deep and intimate in this quiet little room.
“You okay?” he asks you, after he pulls away. “Got everything you need?”
He’s become even more protective, of course, but also more attentive to you. Especially in the last few months of your pregnancy, seeing how uncomfortable you've become.
It warms you every time, when you consider how rough, how stoic, and how damn-near emotionally repressed he can be.
It seems that fatherhood is beginning to soften him, even before he begins. You quirk a smile at the thought, and at his question.
“Imagine pushing a super melon out of your dick. That’s how I’m doing,” you say cheekily.
He snorts a bit loudly at that, and you shush him, as if it wasn’t your fault he was laughing. He expects nothing less from you.
“But I’m okay,” you answer his second question. “All I need right now is you.”
Ben considers you, a slightly gentler smile curving his lips, and he nods.
“All right,” he says. In this moment, he realizes that his entire world is in this room.
He’d never admit it, but it's a terrifying thought, for a man who once had everything and nothing.
You unknowingly stop the path of his thoughts when you ask him, "Want to hold her for a while?"
Ben perks up at attention. He's a bit uncertain on how exactly to hold the baby, but he can't lose face and tell you that. So he just accepts the bundle when you place her in his arms.
As he looks down at a small face that already has some of his features, he inhales a faltering breath.
It's the first time you ever see true tears in his eyes, despite how much he resists. One manages to draw a path down his cheek.
“You know, you’re blessed to have my genes, sweetheart,” he says. It elicits a knowing scoff out of you. “But you’re also lucky as hell to have your mom.”
Ben looks up and finds the predictable well of tears forming in your eyes. His smirk softens around the edges.
“She’s the best damn woman you’re ever gonna meet,” he says.
AN: All right, I'll stop. 😭 I hope you enjoy this one, fluff overload and all! Who was your favorite this time: Dean, Beau, or Ben? 💜
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#When You're Having His Child#Headcanon: How Dean Beau and Soldier Boy/Ben react#dean winchester#dean winchester imagine#dean winchester x reader#dean winchester x female reader#dean winchester x you#dean winchester fanfic#dean winchester fluff#beau arlen x reader#dean x reader#supernatural#beau arlen x you#beau arlen#beau arlen imagine#soldier boy x reader#beau arlen x female reader#soldier boy x you#soldier boy#soldier boy imagine#soldier boy x female reader#spn#big sky#the boys#dean winchester fanfiction#soldier boy fanfiction#beau arlen fanfiction#jensen ackles#zepskies writes
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Master ; Eddie Munson x Reader
summary: [PART ONE HERE!] It's been a few days since Eddie Munson and reader had their little hookup in the back of his van, and she's jonesing for more. After a D&D campaign, Eddie invites her back to his trailer.
word count & w a r n i n g s: 4.8K | female reader, smut, use of pet names (princess, sweetheart, baby, etc.), light bondage, no use of y/n, fucking to music (because he would), eating out, p in v, slight cockwarming at the end.
a/n: i am so overwhelmed by the response to my first eddie fic!!! you guys are CRAZY! thank you though, from the bottom of my heart. i hope this part lives up to the last part! ps: i've never played d&d, so just ignore how bland that section is. thanks. ps #2: the album that eddie puts on is Ride the Lightning, so if you wanna' listen to that while you read.... please do. not beta-read, yada yada yada yada. divider by @/strangergraphics!!
full fic under cut! ↓ / ao3 link here! / I don’t have a taglist anymore, but please turn on post notifications if you’d like to be notified of future fics!
For the most part, everything had returned to normal with the very welcomed exceptions of a few heated glances, some knowing smiles, and the occasional touch when he passed by you. All of which had you reeling, viciously fanning the embers of your desire for him. Many times throughout the week, you’d considered approaching him for one reason or another, but you were holding out for reasons unbeknownst to you.
In other news, Jason had requested a new lab partner - or tried - but Mrs. Cowan didn’t bother entertaining his request, much to your dismay. So the last period was spent with him, trying to remain cordial, but silently cursing everything he did.
That morning, you’d woken up with a fiery craving for Eddie. It couldn’t be sated by merely thinking of him, or watching him from afar. You need to feel him again. Out front of Hawkins High, you bend down to retrieve your backpack, nestling your patterned Trapper Keeper in the crook of your arm.
And as if on cue…
“I’m your turbo lover! Better run for cover!”
You freeze and straighten up, a chill shuddering up your spine. There’s no way someone is just playing that song. Your thighs press together tightly, as if doing so is inhibiting anything. You spin around, searching for the source of the music. And boy, do you find it. Eddie’s van screeches around the corner, just in front of you.
You watch as Eddie then pulls into a parking spot, his arm hanging out the window of the van. He lifts it, giving you a casual wave, even though that gesture is anything but casual. For a moment, you’re almost mad. He’s all but ruined that song for you, because now all you can think about is him fingerbanging you in the back of his van. You let out a frustrated huff as the music dies off and the door creaks open.
“Hey, sweetheart.” He says as he passes, his voice dripping with nonchalance. Your mouth gapes open, appalled that he didn’t tackle you in kisses right then and there. You watch, wordlessly, as he takes the steps two at a time and march after him, adjusting your bag on your shoulder. He wasn’t getting away from you that quickly. Thankfully, this semester, you had two classes with him; English in the morning and History after lunch. The little game he was playing was vicious and mean, and you hated it.
“Eddie, wait!” You call, trotting down the hallways. He slows his pace and gradually turns, a sly expression on his face.
“Yeees?”
“What are you doing?”
“Uh.. y’know… just going to class.” He answers coolly, nodding his head towards Miss Tipton’s door. You steal a glance at his body; he’s wearing a Metallica shirt with his go-to black jeans, and he’s got a black backpack slung over his right shoulder. His hand is clamped around the handle of that lunchbox he always carries, his rings clanking together as he adjusts his grip. You remember what those rings felt like, entangled in your own fingers. At the lewd thought, you have to withhold a sigh. He’s so… you dig your nails into the plastic of your binder, growling slightly.
“You can’t just…” You stutter, looking at him with big, pleading eyes. “I’m going crazy over here.”
“Yeah? So what do you want me to do about it?” Suddenly walking you backwards, he urges you against someone’s locker, his belt buckle pressing hard into your stomach. Your breath comes out in a rush. “You want me to do it right here?”
He brushes the backs of his fingers along your jawline, teasingly. Your eyes drift behind him, watching people’s eyes flit to you and widen as they pass. A few people snigger and make some comments, likely disparaging in nature. Of course, they must be thinking, who would want to be that close to the Freak of Hawkins? You groan inwardly and lean your head back against the slotted metal.
“No… we can’t.”
“Then you’re gonna’ have to be patient, aren’t you, sweetheart?” His voice is husky and low, his breaths washing over your face. You frown slightly, but nod. You’d gotten something… the warmed, lingering sensation of his hips pressed against yours was enough to get you through the rest of the day, at least. He backs off, smirking, and reaches for the door, pulling it open. With eyebrows raised, he holds the door for you, letting you duck underneath his arm.
Once in the classroom, you pick a seat and settle in. After a few moments, Miss Tipton turns to the chalkboard to write something and in doing so, turns her back away from the class. A few seconds later, something hits your shoulder, bouncing off of it. You look down at your feet and spot a folded up piece of notebook paper. Making sure that the teacher is still occupied, you bend down and scrape your fingers against the floor, scooping it into your grasp. You quickly unfold it, your eyes scanning over the scrawled letters.
Today after last period. Meet me in the theatre.
EDDIE
PS: I miss the way you taste.
Your stomach tightens. Tucking your face into your shoulder, you sneakily peer back behind you. To your right, a few seats down, Eddie meets your gaze and feigns innocence, widening his eyes at you before casually scratching the side of his face with a capped pen. You withhold a smile and turn back around, tucking the note into your binder. Class continues without a hitch. In fact, it goes by surprisingly quickly.
After class, you hurry to the payphone outside, dial home and bring the receiver to your ear. It rings twice before you hear your mother’s voice.
“Hello?”
“Mom, it’s me.”
“Honey, is everything okay?” You can hear the worry in her voice.
You smile, leaning against the nearby brick wall. “Yes, I’m fine. I just wanted to call you and let you know that I’m going to be home later today. I’m uh… thinking about joining a club.”
“A club? At school? Honey, that’s great. Just be careful, okay?”
You straighten up, hunching over the payphone again. “I will, I promise. Love you.”
“Love you too. Bye-bye.”
Every class speeds by, having been spent fantasizing. You’re in deep, too deep maybe. Short of drawing hearts around his name, you’ve allowed yourself to become completely wound around his guitar-calloused fingers, you’ve imagined every scenario possible and succeeded in riling yourself up throughout the day. Prepwork, you’d call it.
So, later that afternoon, when you make it to the theatre, quietly opening one of the double doors, you’re almost disappointed that it’s a room full of boys. Sure, Eddie’s there, sitting at the head of the table, but it’s a room full of boys all the same. Foolishly, Hellfire Club wasn’t a frontrunner in your thoughts, you hadn’t even considered it or the fact that he had invited you to one of the sessions, and you’d agreed. You grimace and take a few steps forward, bringing yourself out of the shadows.
“Ah, she arrives.” Eddie’s voice booms, echoing in the acoustics of the theatre. He’s oozing confidence, and you bite your lip, silently talking your own arousal down.
“Hey guys,” you say, trying to mask your nerves with a casual wave. “Eddie invited me.”
“Indeed I did.” He’s perched on an ornately carved chair, his elbows resting on his knees, fingers laced together. Eddie then jumps over the arm of the chair and bends down, retrieving something from his backpack. Casually, but almost theatrically, he strolls over. Once he’s in front of you, he reaches for your hand, pulling it up and carefully lays the item in your hands, his fingertips grazing the edge of your palm. It’s a Hellfire Club shirt, just like the one he wears. A smirk crawls across your lips; you were now technically in possession of two of his shirts.
After changing behind the heavy velvet curtains, you get situated in one of the empty seats, and Eddie explains the campaign, setting the scene with all of his elaborate, fantastic descriptions. This guy was a natural born storyteller, and you could tell he had a passion for this silly little game. Too quickly, it came to be your turn. You had no idea what you were doing, and you realize that you haven’t been paying attention at all. Your attention was… elsewhere the entire time. Panic grips your throat as everyone’s eyes are on you, waiting for your roll.
“Uhhh,” You look apprehensively at the dice in your palm. Unlike regular dice, they have way too many sides and you don’t know what you need to achieve. Eddie assured you that you’d get the hang of it, but so far… you haven’t. “I have no idea but roll a one-hundred to charm the DM?”
“One-hundre— WHAT! That doesn’t even make sense. She’s not even playing!” The kid with the curly hair – Dusty? Dustin? – sounded frustrated. He took this very seriously. They’d all briefly introduced themselves as you’d sat down, but your attention had been on and still was on Eddie the entire time, so you hardly retained any of their names. You are enchanted with his energy tonight; the way he masterfully navigates the campaign, engaging with each of the rolls and weaving an intricate story that none of the other players can predict, but adore all the same.
You two make eye contact. Eddie withholds a smile. You can see it — the middle of his plush lips start to spread across his teeth but he reels it back in. It takes an immense amount of self control, but you don’t make finger guns at him. Instead, you toss the dice back onto the table, not bothering to watch what you’d rolled. With a groan, you lean back in the chair, which creaks in protest. “Fine,” you lamented, lacing your fingers behind your head. “I’ll just watch. I don’t understand this anyway.”
“Lady Terowyn,” he starts, saying the name that he’d given you at the start. He holds your gaze strongly, leaning forward in his chair and gripping the sides of the table, his rings clanking against the wood. “You seem to have acquired a ferocious malady. You can roll again in hopes that Blossom Tealeaf will assist you with a cure…”
“Who was Blossom Tealeaf again?” You ask, almost exasperated and look around at the other players. Dustin rolls his eyes, slumping down in his chair. “Alright, alright. Sheesh. I’ll accept this… illness and just watch this time.”
“Alright, then. Lady Terowyn succumbs to the vicious curse and perishes. What shall you do?”
The boys fall into a heated discussion and Eddie’s eyes find yours again. Without saying anything, he’s saying a lot. He’s smiling like he did before he kissed you, and the thought drives you insane. You have half a mind to climb across the table and go sit in his lap, sweeping your hips back and forth until his cock hardens underneath you, but you wouldn’t dare interrupt his campaign; it means too much to him and the others.
So, you sat. You sat, commenting, cheering the boys on when they figured something out, and gasped when their fearless dungeon master bested them yet again. Eventually, they warmed up to you, the coldness gone from their responses, even going so far as to involve you in some of the discussions. This went on for a few hours, until finally, they lost against the merciless beast that they’d been fighting. After the group dispersed outside, Eddie towed you to his van, promising he’d take you home.
He pulls you into a kiss, his tongue dancing along your lower lip and slipping inside to wrestle with yours. You moan into his mouth, and slide your hands into the warmth inside his leather jacket. Never breaking the kiss, he gently pushes you against the side of his van, the metal cool behind your back. One of his hands moves to your leg, hitching it up around his waist to bring you even closer to him. He bucks his hips into you once, and your breath hitches.
“It really is fun,” he starts, brushing his lips against your neck, trailing delicate kisses down the length of it. “Y’know… if you’d actually try playing it.”
You whine, tilting your head to the side and allowing more space for him to kiss. “Listen, I was distracted, okay?”
“Oh, by what?”
“Like you don’t know.”
Eddie chuckles, a breathy sound just underneath your earlobe. His lips ghost down your neck, stopping at a place between it and your shoulder, and he sucks the skin into his mouth. You wince at the sudden pressure, but don’t protest. It’ll inevitably leave a mark, and it seems he knows it. Smiling at the reddened skin, he leans back to look at you, to gaze into your half-lidded eyes.
“You wanna’ go back to my place? Wayne’s outta’ town…”
You aren’t sure who Wayne is… but the implications of that hang heavy between you two. For a moment, you say nothing, letting your gaze drift back and forth between his eyes and his lips, but finally, you nod. Eddie grins and is dragging you around to the passenger side before you have a chance to change your mind. He throws open the door and circles his hand in front of it, beckoning you inside. “Your chariot awaits, m’lady.”
You can’t help but smile – the theatrics of his campaign are clearly still lingering. Once you’re in, Eddie shuts the door and hurries back around to the other side, retrieving his keys from his pocket. Tossing a confident smile your way, he stabs them into the ignition, turns them and the engine of the van roars to life.
The drive from the high school to the trailer park takes about ten minutes, but feels like twenty. Every time he pulls up on a stop sign, his hand drifts over to your thigh. He kneads it, his rings bumping together. Just when it starts to get good, just when his hand starts to drift up your skirt, he pulls it away, and accelerates.
Once you’re inside, Eddie flips on the lights and turns to you, expectantly. He knows what’s coming. He’s been riling you up the entire ride. The second the door is shut, your lips are on him, smearing hot, wet kisses all over his neck and jawline. Eddie’s laughing breathily, his hands roaming around your waist and ass. “So needy,” he says.
“I’ve been thinking about this since we….” Your voice trailed off, meeting his mouth in a sloppy kiss. Eddie keeps you there, holding your face tightly. He walks you backwards past the kitchen towards his bedroom until the back of your calves hit the mattress, and you wrap your arms around his neck. His hands trail up your waist, winding around the front of your body. It’s warm to the touch, and Eddie smiles as his large hands cup your breasts, giving them a gentle squeeze.
“Fuck, Eddie, oh my god…”
You claw at his leather jacket, trying to push it off his shoulders. You can’t get enough of him, and want him naked on top of you immediately. Enough teasing, enough foreplay. You’re desperate for him.
“Someone’s grabby. We’ll fix that.” He pushes you lightly backwards onto the bed, your ass bouncing against the mattress, the springs squeaking in protest.
He reaches around, pulling the black bandana from his back pocket, and shakes it out from its folded state. The heat that blossoms between your thighs is only worsening, becoming unbearable. One knee pressed into the bed, his body tilted slightly forward towards you. “Hands together, m’lady.”
At first, you stare, dumbfounded, up at him. He was… so cute. The dim, yellow lighting of the table lamp behind him creates a halo around his fluffy hair, akin to a renaissance painting. Some artist had to have painted an angel from this point of view… but there was nothing angelic about what was taking place. Nothing, because you were about to —
“Hello?” You blink once, twice. Had he been speaking the entire time? He quirks a brow, very obviously waiting for your response. His warm, chocolatey eyes hold yours in a death grip as he wraps the bandana around your wrists, tying it tightly in a knot. He hadn’t told you to look at him, at least not verbally. Deep down, you knew that you couldn’t look away if you tried. He knew that too. “Hands to yourself until I say so.”
“Yes, master.” He freezes, with his fingers still on the buckle of his belt and raises his head back up to look at you.
You try to speak, to undo what you’ve said, but only squeaks and a nervous string of ‘Uhhh’s come out. You drop your bound wrists into your lap with a dramatic huff, and roll your head back, staring embarrassed at the ceiling of his trailer. Truthfully, you hadn’t even known where that came from; you’d never called anyone ‘master’ in your entire life, and even mocked the concept. Master and Servant was a Depeche Mode song, not something you practiced in the bedroom.
“I don’t knoow — dungeon master? I don’t know where that came from, I’m — Eddie, please — PLEASE!” Your head snapped back up.
“Hey,” He cooed, brushing your bangs from your eyes. “It’s okay. I liked that. I just couldn’t tell if you were being serious or not.”
Eddie brings his face close to yours, nuzzling his nose against your cheeks. “Lay back for me, sweetheart.”
You do, bound hands resting on your stomach. Eddie shrugs out of his jacket, and pulls his shirt up from behind his back, tossing it onto the floor to join the rest of the clothes. You haven’t seen him shirtless before; the visual has your cunt clenching as your eyes dance over his tattoos, memorizing them.
You watch him with hearts in your eyes as he strolls half-naked over to his stereo, pops in a tape, shuts the door and hits play; the heavy sound of Metallica fills the small room. You smirk. He would. As the song builds, Eddie returns to the edge of the bed, creeping closer, walking his hands on the mattress until he’s close enough to press a kiss to each of your kneecaps. Just like before, he unzips your skirt and peels down your tights, taking his time with the action. Your breath catches in your chest when you feel his calloused fingers ghosting along the outside of your thighs, sweeping along the flesh as it prickles with goosebumps. It’s not cold by any means, but the sensation of his fingers has your skin reacting.
“Now that’s a sight for sore eyes…” he says, admiring the way you look, pantsless but still wearing the Hellfire Club shirt. “God damn… you should be on the cover of an album or something.” He tilts his head, staring for a moment longer before he’s pulling the shirt over your head, and yanking your panties over the wide curve of your hips.
The rest of your clothes join his on the floor of his bedroom, and you’re naked, lying on his stained sheets, writhing in anticipation. Eddie pulls your thighs apart carefully but forcefully, like he’s opening the jaws of a lion. He slots himself underneath your legs, hoisting your thighs onto the curve of his shoulders. As soon as you realize what’s about to transpire, he feels the sudden tension in your body and slides his hands up your waist tenderly.
“Just relax. I know what I’m doing.” His voice is commanding and heavy with desire.
Your eyes roll back in your head, teeth clamping down on your bottom lip; you feel your cunt clench at his lusty tone. You can feel your face flush with heat. Something about him makes you trust him, turn to putty in his grip – in fact, you’ve never trusted a man more in your life. You nod, inhaling a deep breath as he presses a kiss to your cunt. Some of your pathetic, shuddering whines are lost in the heavy guitar and drums of Metallica, which you’re grateful for. The feeling of his lips against her makes your whole body jerk violently, and Eddie’s hands are suddenly pressing down on your hips, holding them tight to the mattress.
“Easy, baby…”
You clench your jaws and shut your eyes, trying to slow your breathing, but that does little to pacify the feelings and how deeply he’s turning you on. His lips hover, his breath washing over her in small, warm gusts before he kisses her again, nuzzling his nose against the soft mound before his tongue slips in between the folds, flicking upwards. Still tied together, all you can do is lift your hands and wad them into tight fists. You could reach forward and push his head further into you, but he’d specifically ordered no touching. You whimper and writhe against the mattress, to which Eddie softly shakes his head against your cunt, muttering a ‘Mm-mm’, and again grips your hips tightly again, holding them in place.
“You like that?”
He swallows hard, before his tongue juts out again, toying with your clit, mercilessly flicking it back and forth and up and down. He encircles the swollen bundle of nerves and hums into your cunt, pleased at the visceral reaction from your body. Even over the music, you can hear the slick, suckling and slurping sounds he’s making, and above all, how wet you are, which is slightly mortifying, considering he’s only just started. Your juices leak onto his mattress, leaving yet another stain on his sheets.
“Words, sweetheart…” He pauses to say. One hand drifts between his legs, where he palms himself over his dark jeans. Eating you out has his cock achingly hard, and he wants nothing more than to sink it into you.
Words? You don’t even know what those are. You can barely form a single word, let alone an entire sentence as his tongue laps at you again, flattening out against your sensitive flesh. It takes you a few tries, but you finally manage to squeak out: “Huhhh- mmm-yeah. Gonna’... gonna’...”
Eddie pulls back slightly, pressing a single slick kiss against your inner thigh. “Yeah? So soon?”
You whimper, nodding. “Mmmh…. So…. so good…”
Bringing his hands underneath your ass, Eddie hoists your hips up, giving him a better angle to suck on your puffy clit. That does it – you’re unable to stop the floodgates. You cry out, bringing your bound hands to your face and pressing the balls of your palms against your mouth, pinching your bottom lip between them. Eddie swallows down your orgasm, bringing the tip of his tongue to your entrance as it squeezes.
As Eddie stands up and wipes the slick from his chin, the song changes, a single reverberating bell rings throughout the room. It brings a smirk to his lips. “For whom the bell tolls…” He says, running a single finger along the length of your quivering thigh. “The bell tolls for you, sweetheart.”
Completely spent, you lift your head weakly, brows peaked together in question. “Wh…what…”
Eddie palms himself again, stroking the swollen shaft through the fabric. His gaze is heavy, sweeping over your naked body as your chest heaves with laboured breaths. His long fingers move quickly, working to unbuckle his belt and unzip his jeans. The jeans fall loose at his hips, just enough for you to catch a glimpse of a lewd outline and a spot where the blue plaid fabric has darkened with pre-cum. He kicks them off and steps out of the circle, smiling at you.
“Nothin’, baby. C’mere.”
Eddie gets onto the bed with one knee first, and walks his way over to you. You turn your head to look at him and heave a shaky sigh as he reaches underneath your torso, twisting you so you’re laying rightways on the bed, your head on a pillow.
“You ready?”
“R-ready for what?” You breathe.
“To have your world rocked, sweetheart.”
“Again?” You coo, looking up at him with big, dreamy eyes.
Eddie hooks his finger around the bandana and twists it around his index finger, tightening the fabric around your wrists. He yanks your hands up over your head, pressing them against the wall above. With his other hand still free, he pulls the waistband of his boxers down over the curve of his ass, allowing his heavy cock free. It slaps against his tummy, bobbing dangerously in front of your core. It occurs to you then how turned on he is over eating your pussy… his cock is leaking and twitching in front of you, begging for release.
Fuck.
At first, Eddie leans down, pressing his cock against your tummy as he kisses you. The kisses are sweet, tender, but passionate with a lingering hint of animalistic demand. He’s being gentle now, but you can feel the unbridled want behind his actions.
“Do it,” you say. “Fuck me.”
Eddie runs his tongue along his bottom lip and grins, taking hold of his cock with his free hand and giving it a few long strokes. A bead of precum oozes from the tip, stringing down to your stomach. He lines the tip up, and a warning pressure builds at your waiting entrance. You clench around the velvet soft head, and Eddie lets out a deep groan.
“Holy shit…” he says.
He tries to be gentle, but as soon as the tip breaches your slick hole and he feels how wet, how warm you are, he can’t help but sink every inch deep into you. He bucks his hips once, forcing his cock deep inside, and halts, allowing you a moment to adjust to the feeling of fullness. You gasp and tighten around him again, pulling a throaty sound from him.
He begins rocking his hips back and forth, his shaft sliding wetly out of you. It doesn’t take him more than a few seconds to find a mind-shattering rhythm that has you gasping and clawing the wall above you. He holds onto your bound wrists still, pinning them tightly against the wall. The power in his thrusts come from his core, bucking relentlessly up into you.
You lift your legs slightly, scooting up and pressing the roundness of your ass against his torso. As he thrusts, his palm presses low into your stomach, rings denting the flesh.
Over the drums and guitar, the slick, hollow slop slop of his cock hammering into you fills the room, and your vision goes blurry as your lids drift shut.
“F-fuck, Eddie… fuck!”
His wanton, concentrating gaze drifts between your legs, watching as he impales you over and over again. You moan loud, much louder than James Hetfield was singing. Eddie shudders and groans, making a deep, almost pained sound.
“You’re gonna kill me, you know that? Those moans are gonna’... Jesus Christ.”
You smile devilishly and meet his thrusts, rutting your hips against his. You see him clench his jaw, the muscles fluttering on the side of his face. The feelings are tantalizing him, and each jerk of his hips brings him closer to an orgasm.
“Jesus Christ,” he repeats, looking down at your sweat-glistened body, watching as your breasts rock back and forth with each movement of his hips. You strain against his grip, wanting so desperately to touch him.
“Master,” you whimper. “Let me touch your body… please….”
The singular word makes his cock twitch inside you. His other hand joins the right, and quickly undoes the knot of his bandana, tossing it behind him. Your greedy fingers immediately snap to his torso, clawing their way up his toned abdomen. Your digits trail over his tattoos, tracing them absentmindedly as Eddie keeps fucking into you, his jaw hanging slack, expression completely blissed out.
“Harder, Eddie,” you moan, pressing your head back into the pillow.
He obeys. Happily. He takes hold of your thighs, pressing them back against your body, exposing more of your cunt to him. His cock leaves you for a moment before he’s slamming back into you, heated and heavily.
It doesn’t take him long to reach a climax at this angle, or for you to reach your second one. You scream out, clawing at his abs as you clench around his dick, squeezing it in a vice-tight grip.
“Shit-shit-shit—” Eddie curses, looking down at your pussy. You feel the swelling throb of Eddie’s cock inside you as he paints you insides white. Your own orgasm has you shuddering against him, crying out his name.
Eddie collapses atop of you, his cock still inside, and nuzzles his nose into the crook of your neck.
“That was…”
“Yeah,” you echo. “Yeah. It was.”
After a few minutes, you turn your head, and press a single kiss against his plump lips. “Soooo, can I sit at your table now? I’m tired of sitting at Jason’s preppy table.”
“Absolutely.”
#praying that this lives up to the first part lmao#eddie munson#stranger things#eddie munson fanfiction#eddie munson smut#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x you#eddie munson x y/n#eddie munson x female reader#stranger things fic#stranger things fanfiction#stranger things smut#myfics
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📄 𝐌𝐚𝐠𝐧𝐞𝐭
Kenji Sato x Fem!Reader
𝐀𝐎𝟑 | 𝐌𝐲 𝐖𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐬 | 𝐔𝐥𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭
𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 5.3k (FUUUUUUU)
𝐓𝐖 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐂𝐖: One sided pinning (or that’s what Kenji believes), Reader is a daddy’s girl (me) and Kenji has daddy issues :,) brief harassment from a drunkie, Kenji saves your ass though, insecurities from Ken, Friends to More (?)
𝐀/𝐍: First Kenji fic I’m posting. If this does flop uhhh no one saw that 🫣🫣
𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Kenji tells himself that he only frequents the local restaurant because their food is always the best, made with the freshest ingredients. Definitely not because he enjoys finding excuses to chat with the owner’s attractive daughter, who often helps out as an unofficial waiter.
Kenji rarely found a place to eat without being overwhelmed by baseball fans who knew nothing about personal space. While he appreciated the admiration, it was increasingly frustrating having to sit down for a meal and being disrupted.
But that wasn’t his main concern. He knew that if fans saw him dining at a certain restaurant, it would soon be flooded, limiting space in the establishment.
Fortunately, he found Kokochi Tei, a small family-owned restaurant run by a widower and occasionally his daughter, who helped as a waitress. The place quickly became his sanctuary, offering both privacy and delicious food.
Initially, Kenji frequented Kokochi Tei for its food and respect for privacy. But everything changed when you started helping out at the restaurant.
He found himself looking for you the moment he entered, hoping you were working that day. He didn’t understand what it was about you that piqued his interest.
But he knew that the hidden gem of the establishment seemed even brighter when you were there—or maybe that was just the sun reflecting on the window.
At first, he thought at all stemmed from his envy of your relationship with your father, as self-projecting as it sounded.
It never crossed his mind that he might actually be interested in you as an individual until you started interacting with him more one-on-one while serving the other patrons.
His brows creased from carrying the day's weight as he sat behind the shoji screen, though he was hopeful that coming to Kokochi Tei would turn things around.
He noticed your figure behind the screen getting closer as you headed to his table, menu in hand. Your strides always seemed to carry some grace.
“Are you sure you don’t want the menu this time?” You asked, clutching onto the menu against your chest.
“Yeah, no.” Kenji shook his head, his lips tugging up in a small smirk. “Your father is like a maestro in the kitchen, I think I’d rather take the chance,” he leaned back in his seat with his broad arms crossed over his chest.
Eating at Kokochi Tei meant expecting the unexpected, especially when it came to your father’s cooking. He was always experimenting with different dishes and Kenji would accept it, even if it was something he never had. “So, what’s special for tonight?”
“Well…Dad’s been experimenting with some Vietnamese dishes, and he nailed a chicken pho ga recipe,”
“Pho, really now?” He arched his brow, interest piqued. “How can I pass up on some chicken pho? Sounds good.”
“Alright, one bowl of pho it is,” you said.
“You’d dad was practically busting his ass in the kitchen before I got here. Is he…doing okay?” The question lingered for a moment, Kenji’s gaze drifted towards the kitchen at the far back.
“Ah…he will be once I run him a bath after,”
“Oh is that so?” He responded, his lips curled to a full grin. “Looks like you’ve got your hands full then, huh?”
“Mhmm I think he’s trying to keep himself distracted after Mom’s not around anymore…” your voice trailed off at the end. It was a sensitive topic that you wouldn’t elaborate on. You blinked and spoke again, “So…pho ga?”
“Yeah. Oh, and a glass of your dad’s homemade green tea if he’s got any,”
“Of course…should be ready in 15.” You turned your heels to leave.
“Oh…and by the way,” Kenji called out, making you halt in your tracks before you turned back to look at him. There was something about the way you perked up when he called after you that sent a flutter through him. “Did you happen to catch the game today?”
“You know I always do. Dad’s always a fan.” You responded. He held his gaze at you, watching your every expression as you spoke.
“So, I assumed you saw my little fight with the catcher, too.”
“Yeah…what’s with that?”
He sighed, ranking a hand through his hair as he recalled the event. “Long story short: the guy had a smartass comment he just needed to say.” He said, a hint of irritation evident in his voice. “And, I’m sure you know me. I don’t tend to stay quiet when I get riled up,”
He wondered what you were thinking when you watched him tussle with the catcher live on television.
Shifting in his seat at the thought, he continued, “You uh…probably saw how the coach pulled from the game after that…”
“Heh—” you stifled a laugh before covering your mouth, clearly amused by his compromising anecdote.
“What’s that sweet giggle for, huh?” He said with a tease before adding on “Don’t you have tables to wait,” he pointed out with a huff, though he couldn’t hold back his smile that gave away his unseriousness. You always found a way for him to bring out his more relaxed side.
“Uh huh,” You managed to compose yourself before you left his table to attend to the other patrons.
“Yeah…that’s what I thought,” he watched you walk away with a shit-eating grin plastered on his face. A few silent moments passed by, his eyes darted around the restaurant, observing anything that could keep his attention.
There were a few paintings hung on the wall with contemporary art pieces and a few plants dotting the space. He leaned over to look past the shoji screen, trying to get a quick glance of you.
He couldn’t help but take note of you as you walked around and served the other patrons. The restaurant wasn’t busy tonight, so your movements were more fluid, with a smoother flow, rather than rushed and on your toes when the restaurant was packed.
It was enticing, even though he knew he could never be in that position— but you always made it look so easy with your welcoming demeanor.
Eventually, you headed over to his table at the back with a tray in hand.
“Here’s your pho go. I got dad to add extra chili just how you like it.” you placed the bowl of hot, steaming pho on the table in front of him. The delicious aroma was irresistible.
“And tea!” You placed a teapot with a cup next to the bowl, along with some cutlery and napkins.
“Thank you,” he said, glancing up at you with a smile. He knew the tea would be divine as always. “Pass along my compliments to your dad, yeah?”
“Always,”
“Perfect,” he started taking a spoonful of the pho, blowing the steam away before he brought it up to his lips and took a sip. He let the pho sit on his tongue to savour the flavour; it was definitely something different but still incredible. “You’re a damn good waitress, you know that.”
“I’m just…doing my job when I can,” you said meekly.
“Well, you do it damn well, if anything,” a thought erupted in his mind, wondering about your love life. He never saw you with a partner, even if he saw a glimpse of your life.
Even if it felt a little invasive, he was conflicted on whether he should ask you or not, especially with the small relationship you’ve built over the months of talking.
He knew he should hold his tongue about it, but he took the risk and asked anyway, before his doubts overtook him. “You got a boyfriend or anything,”
“Sorry?”
Oh God, don’t make him repeat himself.
“Come on, a boyfriend? Any guy at all that you’re seeing?” He always imagined asking the question with a better, more smooth delivery— not like this. Nevertheless, he was glad the question was out of the way now.
“Nope,” you said. Despite the newfound revelation, a part of him made him doubt that you would even give him a chance, given his status.
You probably only saw him as the famous baseball star who was a regular at your father’s restaurant with a big ego. Although the latter wasn’t completely wrong, he knew he was more than that but he was unsure if you were curious to explore more, like he was.
“Ah, single then, are you?” Even with his lingering doubts, there was still a sense of satisfaction with your answer, maybe some underlying hope now that he knew you weren’t seeing anyone. “I was starting to believe you’d have line of guys at your feet,”
Whether it was true or not— and he really hoped it was the latter— he didn’t want to further broach the thought of other men trying to flirt with you. He was aware of how selfish that must’ve sounded, hence why he tried to keep his feelings in check.
“Yeah…heard of that one before,”
“Heh, just trying to compliment you,” he quipped. “No need to shoot down every word that comes out of my mouth,”
He caught a playful eye roll from you as he resumed eating, taking another spoonful of the pho and relishing its taste.
He could taste the slight kick from the chili just the way he liked it. It made him wonder if you remembered other small details about him, but he quickly brushed it off before he started speculating other scenarios.
After another spoonful, he asked, “So, when do you close?”
“We’re not closing until another hour,”
“Right, right. Just another hour,” he said with a hum, continuing on the pho in front of him. “And I’m guessing you’re aren’t gonna sit down and keep me company,”
“Yeah, probably not…”
“Ouch, you’re breaking my heart here.” He teased, clenching his chest to add emphasis to his feigned hurt. “You’d rather run around catering to other people than keep this baseball player company.”
“Well you've got your tea to keep you busy,” you shot back, your teasing words matching his wittiness.
He chuckled at that, giving the tea that was sitting besides his bowl a pointed gaze. “Yeah, ‘cause it’s a great listener,” he said sarcastically.
“Oh, for sure. Totally silent and won’t interrupt you and such.”
He let out a scoff, but his amused smile was still present on his face. “Yeah, smartass. Keep it up and I might decide to stay here all night.”
You arched a brow at that. “We’ll see what dad has to say about that.”
“Please,” his lips curled into a smirk. “If anything, he’ll probably beg me to stay. The tips I give are probably the only reason this place is still in business.” He knew full well how much your dad loved serving him and having him around, and not just because of the hefty tips he gave everytime.
It’s not often that Kenji let his insecurities get the best of him. Matter of fact, it was so rare, the feeling was almost foreign to him.
He wouldn’t let them overshadow his confidence, especially when he needed it the most on the field when there were hundreds and hundreds of eyes on him in real-time or when he’s doing his Ultraman duties with the citizens relying on him to keep them safe.
But being in a situation like this felt like navigating a complex maze where he has no sense of direction. Whenever he was with you, Kenji felt like the doubts in his head were a little louder than usual, and he was worried that one day, his blasé mask would slip away.
“You know, he was on my case last time when I was hanging around your table.” You commented.
“Oh really? You think he’s afraid of losing his regular customer to a pretty waitress? I won’t ditch him anytime soon. Gotta show my appreciation to these heavenly meals, you know,”
“I think he’s more concerned about me hitting on you,”
Kenji froze momentarily, the spoonful of the noodles halfway to his mouth, before he looked up at you with genuine surprise. “Wait wait wait— he seriously thinks you’d try making a move on me?” The thought alone seemed too baffling for him to comprehend.
“Yes, he does,”
A small chuckle escaped him before it morphed into a full blown laughter. He noticed through his teary eyes that you still held your serious expression. “That’s-” he began, taking a deep breath to compose himself. “Oh wow…your old man actually thinks you’re after me?”
Although the claim sounded comical hearing it out loud, Kenji hoped that there was some truth to it—even if he did disguise his hope with his laugh just now.
Just the thought of him catching your eye like that made something in him stir with a spark of excitement and nervousness.
“Unfortunately, and that’s all he talks about,” you finished your sentence with a groan. Kenji wondered how you really felt about the situation. Were you truly denying any interest, or was there something you’re holding back?
“He’s been talking to you about me, then, has he? About how you’re all falling for my charms and such?”
“Urgh, I don’t even want to feed that idea into his head,”
“But why not?” He leaned forward on his chair with his arms resting against the table. “I’m sure this whole thing is giving him a good laugh,” It was quite charming seeing the dynamic between you and your father and how your father felt about your interaction. Though he really hoped that he wasn’t temperamental about it.
“More like another reason to be on my case���I’ve already stressed him out for giving the wrong order to a few customers this week alone,”
He recalled one incident that had been going around the dining area. “Right…didn’t you give a guy beef noodles when he was supposed to get pork instead?”
You pressed your lips together in mild annoyance at the reminder, and he chuckled at your quiet response.
“Yeah. Poor fella probably had a fit once he realised what happened. I’m sure you had an earful from your dad after that,” he add
Just at that moment, another customer entered the restaurant, and you were already on your toes to serve them a table.
There was a flicker of disappointment in his eyes at the interruption; he was really enjoying your conversation, but of course, your job comes first.
“Duty calls, huh?” You nodded in silent response. “Go on then, go play nice and serve your customers.”
The male customer trotted over to an empty table, trying to hide the clumsiness in his steps. Kenji was never superstitious, but something about that man just at first glance rang all alarm bells in him.
He couldn’t pinpoint what it was, but his instincts were telling him to keep a close eye on the interaction and stay on high alert.
The longer he watched the the conversation between you and the newcomer, the more he could pick up on his behaviour.
His crooked smile, his relaxed yet provocative body language, and his slight slurred speech all pointed to him being intoxicated.
The man’s presence disrupted the calm atmosphere in the room, and Kenji couldn’t help but find himself on edge.
As you left for the kitchen to fetch his order, Kenji didn’t miss the man staring at your backside. It was obvious that he was eyeing your body like a shark sizing up it’s prey.
Kenji’s protective instinct kicked into overdrive, making him clutch the spoon in his hand hard enough to leave a dent on his palm.
He continued to watch as you returned from the kitchen, only to be met with the obnoxious patron who was getting more unruly by the minute. Kenji couldn’t hear the conversation from where he was sitting, but he could tell that you were uncomfortable.
You maintained your forced smile through your nervousness, and he could only seethe from his seat.
It took every ounce of willpower not to step in and cause a scene.
But something in him snapped the moment the man reached out and tried stroking her leg. All the tension he had held back boiled over.
In a swift motion, he stood up from his seat, the chair scraping against the wooden floor with a loud screech. He strode over towards the table, each step fueled with purpose and irritation.
He placed a hand on your shoulder and felt you jolt from the sudden contact.
“Come here,” he muttered, his voice gentle yet firm.
“What?”
“Just come closer,” he urged, the grip on your shoulder growing slightly tighter. Despite his calm exterior, his eyes betrayed his irritation.
You did as you was told and moved towards him. Immediately, he pulled you close and wrapped a protective arm around your waist, making sure you were behind him, shielding you from the man’s lecherous gaze with his athletic frame.
In the deepest pit of his gut, he felt a tinge of nervousness having been this close to you and having his arm around you. He always imagined what it would be like to be in this position but not in a situation like this.
But he brushed that thought aside as he looked down at the man, his eyes narrowed into slits. His voice instantly dropped to a dangerous tone, dripping with menace. “You got a problem?”
The man didn’t seemed fazed, still maintaining his lopsided grin, which only fueled his irritation further. “Nah, just having fun with the waitress here,”
Kenji felt his gut twist as the man’s spoke. ‘Fun.’ The word echoed in his head “Well, your fun ends here.”
“What, you got a problem with a guy just having a good time? Look at her, she loves the attention.” The man tried to lean to the side so he could take a look at you, but Kenji immediately blocked his view.
“She clearly doesn’t want anything to do with you,”
“You her boyfriend or something?” The customer sneered.
Kenji felt you tense behind him at that question. A part of him wanted to claim that title— not only to get the man to back off, but also to finally say it out loud, just to see how it felt like on his tongue.
But feeling how you tensed up made him second guess, so he kept his answer vague. “It doesn’t matter if I am her boyfriend or not, you’re going to leave her alone now.”
The man was completely oblivious to Kenji’s mounted annoyance. Kenji was surprised he didn’t recognise him, but that could be the alcohol completely skewing his judgment. Kenji leaned in so he was forced to focus on him.
“Eyes on me,” his voice sharpened, a hot razor blade. “She's not for you to touch or ogle, do you understand?”
The drunk man’s bravado evaporated under Kenji’s intense glare. He realised that continuing to provoke him would only lead to more trouble. He shifted in his seat before standing up unsteadily.
“Fine, fine I get it. She’s yours. No need to get all territorial, man.” The man muttered before staggering out of the restaurant, his balance wavering as he walked.
Once he was out of sight, the restaurant slowly resumed to its usual buzz and the patrons turned their attention back to their food. Though there was still a lingering awkwardness in the room that was hard to ignore.
Kenji’s attention shifted back to you, his fury melting into concern. You still look shaken and he could feel your muscles still taunt from the encounter.
His voice lowered to a softer tone, a mix of concern and protectiveness. “You alright?”
It took a moment before you could respond, your voice barely above a whisper but still audible enough for him to hear. “Y-yeah…I think so,”
Kenji could still send the remnants of fear lingering in your eyes and notice the slight tremor in your frame. The shock of the incident was still fresh and you were still trying to process what had just happened to you.
“I think I might close up early for the night,” you said, and he nodded in understanding. The whole ordeal must���ve taken a toll on you and you probably weren’t in the right state of mind to continue serving.
“Let me help you,” he offered.
“You don’t have to. Your pho…” you started, but he waved off your concern. His only focus was to make sure you were comfortable.
“Forget about that, it’s cold anyways. I’m helping you, no arguments.” He insisted firmly, leaving no room for debate in his tone.
Without waiting for a response from you, he reluctantly let go of you, wishing he could hold you a bit longer.
Fortunately, the place was quiet tonight and there were only a few customers scattered around finishing off their meals. He approached them one by one and politely asked them to finish up and head out, explaining the place was closing early.
As he waited for the place to clear out, his gaze lingered back on you as you started cleaning up the counter and counting the tip jar. You were uncharacteristically stiff and mechanical. Seeing you like this made his chest ache.
He wondered how often these things happened to you while you were on the clock. This was the first time he had witnessed anything like that, and he hated that some jackass ruined your night after seeing how relaxed you were earlier.
A few minutes later, once the last customer had walked out, Kenji returned to you, vigilant. “They’re all gone now.”
You didn’t meet his eyes, too stunned to focus on anything other than the floor. His chest tightened at the sight. “My dad’s gonna be pissed,”
“Why would he be pissed? It’s not your fault some drunk guy was harassing you.” He took a step closer, trying to study your expression.
You let out a solemn sigh, enough for him to feel the weight of your worry. He wanted to reach out and comfort you, but he knew you probably didn’t want to be touched right now.
“Hey, look at me.”
You glanced up at him briefly, then quickly interjected before he could speak, “You should uhm…finish off your pho. Don’t want it to get wasted, huh?” You quickly added, “Do you like dorayaki?”
He paused, surprised by your sudden change of topic. He couldn’t tell if it was a coping mechanism from your distress, but he appreciated your attempt to lighten the mood. “Dorayaki? Yeah, I love them,”
“Let me give you one…it’s on the house for helping me.” Before he could respond, you were already heading to the front counter where the dorayaki were displayed.
You wrapped one in a napkin and handed it to him. He accepted it gracefully, wrapping his large hand around the treat. “You sure your dad won’t get mad at you for giving away free food,”
“I don’t think he’ll notice anyway,” you said. “Plus, he’ll probably do the same, being his favourite baseball player and all.”
“Oh, so I’m the favourite, huh?” He unwrapped the dorayaki and took a bite. “Well, I had to admit, your dad’s got good taste in baseball,”
“Yeah…don’t see why he’d have an issue with me hitting on you, if that was the case, considering how much he admires your game play and such.”
“Can't blame him for being protective of you. I wouldn’t want some cocky bastard hitting on you either,”
“Oh, so you admit that you’re a bastard,”
“Guilty as charged, but I’m the kind of bastard that knows how to treat a girl right. Unlike those idiots that only see you as a piece of meat,”
He paused, recalling the incidents from earlier. He didn’t want to mull over what could’ve happened if things turned out differently. “I’m just glad I was here tonight. I wasn’t going to let some asswipe take advantage of you.”
A sudden outburst could be heard from the kitchen before the back door slammed open, revealing your father’s hardened face.
You stood upright, preparing for the confrontation. “Baba…”
You dad eyed both of you and he could almost feel the suspicion rising from him. His voice was gruff with a protective anger, “What is going on here?”
“It’s not what it looks like. I had to close the shop half an hour early,” you said quickly.
“And what’s the reason for that?”
Kenji took this opportunity to step in before things escalated further, not wanting you to revisit the story again. “Because some drunkard was harassing her. She felt uncomfortable and decided to close up early for safety reasons.”
Your dad’s attention darted at Kenji, a flicker of surprise crossing his face. He was used to people recognising him along with the shocked and awestruck look on their faces when they see him. But the way you dad was looking at him was something new, and he didn’t know how to react in the situation.
He quickly looked back at you and asked, “Is it true? Someone was messing with you?”
“Yeah…he touched me,” you said before gesturing to Kenji, “but Kenji stopped it from escalating,”
Your father still seemed guarded as he asked, “You stepped in?”
“Yeah, I did. I wasn’t going to stand by and watch her get harassed,”
You father’s gaze flickered between the two of you, his earlier suspension giving way to grudging respect. He was aware of Kenji’s reputation, both on and off the field. If the pro-baseball player had intervened, it must’ve meant the situation was serious enough to warrant it.
You picked up on your dad’s hesitation. “Baba, I was never trying to make a move on Kenji. You can even ask him,”
For some odd reason, Kenji felt his heart quicken at your words. Hearing you actually mentioning it to your father felt almost cathartic.
Kenji felt his eyes on him again, almost looking for confirmation from him. Kenji nodded, keeping his voice level, despite his senses going haywire right now, “She’s telling the truth, nothing inappropriate is going on between us,”
The room seemed to relax as your father’s tense demeanor faded. Perhaps after hearing it from Kenji himself was enough to convince him.
“Alright, I just wanted to make sure that nothing is going on behind my back,” he said. “Looks like I have to pack everything away in the kitchen,”
“I’m sorry, Baba.”
“It’s not your fault, don’t apologise. I’m just glad you’re okay,”
Your father looked back at Kenji, his expression more sincere now. “And I guess I owe you a thanks for stepping in and saving the day,”
“I gave him free dorayaki,” you chimed in.
“Ah, rewarding him with food, huh? That’s my girl.” He turned back to Kenji and stuck his hand out.
“I appreciate you looking out for her, son. Thank you.” He gave Kenji a firm handshake, though the word ‘son’ had struck him more than he let on, sending an odd feeling through his body. He didn’t think hearing another father calling him that would affect him.
Though he simply nodded, his expression was sincere, “No problem. I wouldn’t have let anything bad happen to her,”
He was still taken back by the unexpected term of endearment from your dad, cutting through his usual confidence. Memories of his own strained relationship with his father flickered in his mind, something he hadn’t confronted with for a while.
Your father gave you both a final nod before he headed back to the kitchen to finish off the last bits of closing.
Kenji maintained his gaze on the back door where you dad just exited, his mind now racing. He started speculating on how different things would be now, and more importantly, how you felt about the situation.
“What’s with that face?” You voiced snapped him out of his deep trance. He didn’t realise how silent he had been until you spoke up.
He turned back to look at you, “I just can't get over the fact that you dad seems to consider me a hero for saving you today,” he said jokingly, though there was some truth to it.
It was refreshing to be seen as more than just a star player; your father saw him for his character and actions. Even if it was just a brief glimpse, gaining your father’s trust and respect felt like a significant accomplishment— something he hadn’t achieved with his own father.
“I can’t believe he called you son, eugh.” Kenji couldn’t believe it either, still hung up on that moment. The gratification still felt fresh, and he hoped that feeling would last.
“Yeah, that too. Seems like he’s accepted me into the family,” he smiled.
“Oh God…” you groaned, massaging your temple to emphasise your feigned exasperation.
“Don’t worry, I won’t take offense to it. I actually find it entertaining.”
“Yeah, that’s one way of putting it,” you said.
It was definitely more than that to him, given the gravity of the situation with his own father.
But he wasn’t going to admit that to you. Maybe one day he’d share more of his family life with you, now that he seemed to be more than just a customer here.
“You know, it’s actually kind of amusing how you’re so bothered by this,” he mused.
“I think you got on his good side, so good for you.”
“Oh, I think I’ve got more that just his good side,”
“What do you mean?”
His smile morphed into a full grin, “Well I just saved his daughter from being harassed. He’s probably thinking of seeing me as a potential son-in-law.”
Shit, why did he say that. Did he sound weird?
You grumbled. “Don’t get excited now,”
Seeing your grumpy expression gave him some relief. It was better than seeing you disturbed. Then again, you were probably used to his teasing by now, so he couldn’t be too surprised.
“Relax, I’m not getting my hopes up…”
Lies.
“…I know you’re not swooning over me like your dad thinks,”
“But I’m pretty sure he’s noticed the way you freeze everytime I look at you when you come into the restaurant,”
He almost choked on his own saliva when you said that. He didn’t think that you’d notice, but now that you had, he wondered how obvious he was.
“I…don’t do that. I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he mentally cursed himself for stuttering. No one had this much of an effect on him, and he didn’t know how to act.
“Just the other day, a man scolded at you for holding the queue,” you commented. Of course you would remember that.
“Alright, fine. I admit it. Maybe I do get a bit distracted sometimes when you look at me. But can you blame me?”
You covered your mouth to hide your snickering, holding back from laughing too hard. “Wow…I didn’t think you were that whipped,”
He huffed at that but he wasn’t going to deny it, even if it did hurt his pride. He knew he was more than just whipped; with those pretty eyes and beautiful smile, you could make him do just about anything.
“Yeah, okay. Laugh it all you want,” he muttered. He didn’t expect you to lean in towards him, invading his line of sight.
Oh no…you were more breathtaking up close.
“Hmm, I might be tempted to drag this out a little, just to see how far you’ll go.” You said, a small smile hinting a tease.
He swallowed thickly before he spoke, mirroring your tone, “Oh, really? You’re gonna make me work for it?”
He wouldn’t mind that if it meant spending more time with you. Every interaction with you was exhilarating and he would take the chance if it meant taking things further with you outside of your work.
The positive interaction with your father gave him a much-needed boost of confidence. If your father trusted him, maybe you would, too.
“Well…what if we start things slow and I asked you to dinner then? I’ll do you good and take you somewhere fancy since you have good taste in food,”
Seeing the way your eyes light before you answered made his chest warm with gratitude. “That sounds nice actually….yeah, I’d like that,”
𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐬: @lovingyeet @aise-30 @moonjellyfishie @dear-detested @nommingonfood
@luneariaa @ittomain1 @slushycoookie @roserfz27 @starriestarlight
@lily-337
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OMG HI I LOCW UR WORKS U ARE SO TALENTED THAT MEGUMI KNW WITH THE GUN?? JAW DROPPED SCREAMING DLENCHING THE TOES WANT TO LICK THE SCREEN
anyways i love you and everything you write <3 was thinking about ex babysitter jujutsu kaisen guy.. envisioning geto or sukuna or gojo (???) idk but they like used to make fun of u and be a little angel for the parents n stuff but seeing them again but ur all grown up and a little spicy reunion !! n they’re like 5-7 yrs older so yum
got so so so carried away as usual but this was so fun to write.. i made it satoru and suguru bc i thought it would be fun :3
warnings: 18+ MDNI, slight dubcon, fem!reader, age gap (reader 20s + them 30s), childhood crush to lovers?, alcohol consumption, love bites, tit sucking, praise, slight cucking?, double penetration (one hole), spanking, hair pulling, squirting, slight pussy eating, creampies, snowballing, pet names (sweetheart, baby).
words: 2.3k
It’s been months since you got to see a movie in the theatre. You don’t even remember the last time, or what you saw. But you’ve been counting down the days until you and your best friend finally had a day off work that lined up with each other. Why you’ve been craving seeing a movie, you’ll never know. But what you’ve been most excited for is the food.
Nothing has caught your eye, but your friend points out a cheesy sounding horror movie that you’re happy to see.
“Satoru? Is that you?” you ask, a familiar head of white hair catching your eye as you and your friend walk closer to him, seeing him leave the cinema screen you’re about to walk into. “Oh my God, I haven’t seen you since I was…”
“Wow,” he chuckles. “Look at you, all grown up. Yeah, it’s been a long time.” he continues. Your eyes meet the stare of the woman on his arm.
She smiles, but you see it’s disingenuous. Her body language is clingy and affectionate, desperately holding onto Satoru’s arm as she urges him to leave with her. You aren’t surprised that she’s trying to lead him away, but you are taken aback that someone has managed to tie the Satoru Gojo down. He was always popular with girls back when he used to babysit you, but he was never one for commitment or staying faithful.
“You two make a cute couple.” you smile at them both, trying to put the girl at ease. It doesn’t work, however. Instead, it seems to make her more nervous.
“It’s our first date.” Satoru informs you. He sighs a little as she pulls at his t-shirt, and it’s less than discreet. “We’re going to dinner later, so we better get going. It was nice seeing you though.” he smiles.
“Wait,” you stop him. “Um, are you still in touch with Suguru?” you wonder.
He smirks at that. He always teased you about having a crush on his best friend after the first time he brought him over for babysitting duty. They didn’t come as a pair every time after that, but it was more often than not. He made your heart race and you lost all ability to form a coherent sentence. You knew he’d never be interested in you; he was older and cooler than you’d ever hope to be.
“Of course. You know what? Here, give me your phone.” he tells you. The girl’s eyes fill with water, a look of defeat in a battle you weren’t even participating in overwhelms her. He quickly types his number into your phone and texts himself so that you can exchange contact information. “We can arrange a little reunion, yeah? See you around.” he winks before leading his date away.
A whole fortnight has passed before any plans come to fruition. That cinema trip is a distant memory that has been replaced with flirty texts in the group chat Satoru decided to make with you and Suguru.
It’s like being a teenager again.
Satoru’s teasing is ceaseless. Everything is so casual and generic in the group chat save for the occasional comment about your crush on Suguru back in the day. But it’s worse in the private messages. Now that you’re older and wiser he sees no point in holding back. He’s so flirtatious and grotesque and vulgar all at once.
Your conversations with Suguru, however, are a lot more reserved. Your fingers tremble whenever he texts. And the conversation is a lot sparser in comparison to how you talk with Satoru.
He’s sweet and kind, but you wonder if he’s just tolerating you for Satoru’s sake.
Satoru: are u cooking for us?
You: we’re getting takeout 🙄
You smirk at your phone as you continue to read the bombardment of heartbroken messages from Satoru, disappointment from the lack of a home-made meal. You can’t even tell if he’s being serious or kidding. You laugh, nonetheless. Though you’re easily startled when hear your doorbell ring.
As you open the door, you have to will yourself from allowing your jaw to drop. Pocketing your phone as you look up at Suguru. That handsome youthful face ageing into a more mature and chiselled one. It makes your heart skip a beat, but you try to downplay it.
“H-Hey!” you smile. “Nice to see you, it’s been forever.”
“It has, hasn’t it?” he smiles too, walking into your home when you move aside. He follows you to the kitchen, watching your every move as you pour two glasses of wine for yourselves. “I’m glad you got in touch.”
You continue to converse as you lead him to the front room and sit side by side on the couch. Neither of you seem to notice how time flies as you chat and reminisce about the days he used to come over to keep Gojo company while he babysat you.
As if you weren’t old enough to stay home without a sitter. That hardly helped your ability to seem cool for your age. And Satoru didn’t fail to tease you about that either.
“I always thought your little crush on me was sweet.” he laughs. “But I was too old for you, then.”
“I know.” you nod, taking a sip of the red liquid sloshing around your glass. “Do you remember that time Satoru invited two girls over?” you ask, face filling with heat as you recall the embarrassing incident.
“Oh,” he chuckles lightly, like a memory has been unlocked in the back of his head. “You locked yourself in your room and wouldn’t come out all night. Even after we sent them home.”
“I was jealous!” you try to defend yourself. “I was such a lame little pre-teen and then these gorgeous girls with perfect skin and perfect hair came over and you guys were hooking up and I was just… heartbroken!” you clutch your hand to your chest dramatically and begin to laugh as you try and make light of the memory.
He breathes, a soft smile prominent of his face as he thinks about it some more. The girls in question were the pretty, popular, cheerleader types. Everything you wanted to be, everything you wanted Suguru to see you as. And yet, you weren’t even close to achieving that reality. And still, he told them to go. Satoru felt bad for upsetting you, too. So they didn’t hesitate to tell them they had to leave.
“I remember sitting with Satoru outside of your bedroom door the whole time. You didn’t even use the bathroom.”
“Oh my God,” you laugh. “I ran to the bathroom after you left. And then I cried to my mom all night about how devastated I was.”
He thinks to himself, putting down his glass of wine on the coffee table before he looks at you. Your body freezes, worried you’ve offended him or creeped him out. A slew of words run rampant in your mind as you try and formulate an apology.
You’re taken aback, however, when he cups your face and slowly tilts his head before kissing you. It’s everything your teenage self had ever dreamed of. You want to drop your own glass to the floor and cup his face in turn as it deepens. But he pulls away, leaving you breathless and longing.
“We’re not kids anymore.” he whispers.
You put down your glass beside his, before lunging in for another kiss. He lets you push him back against the couch, stripping yourself of your sweater so you’re down to just your bra. He smooths his hands over your hips, watching you eagerly as he awaits your next move.
“We’ll have to be quick.” you tell him. “Satoru will be here soon.”
You bend down to make out with him again, keening as he expertly unhooks your bra. His lips latch around your nipple before you’ve even realise he’s tossed your bra halfway across the room. Your hips roll against his clothed bulge, still in a state belief that this is even happening.
“I always wanted you to be my first.” you confess, and he halts his actions momentarily. “But I’m glad… I can fuck you properly instead.”
He allows you to help him out of his own shirt, neither of you capable of keeping your hands off each other for more than a second. Even less than that for your lips. Each sentence is hushed and hurried as you try and navigate this new and exciting development in what was meant to be a casual, friendly, reunion.
“So you’ve got experience now, huh?” he asks, kissing your neck greedily as he thinks about how much you’ve grown in the last decade. “You know how to fuck like a good girl?”
You nod, dumbly, kissing his neck in turn before traversing down his sculpted body. You both freeze, however, when the doorbell rings again. Your eyes widen in horror as you realise all of your clothes are scattered across the front room. There’s no way you can get dressed quick enough. Maybe it would be better to pretend you aren’t home. That you ran out because you forgot something at the store.
“It’s open.” Suguru yells, your heart pounding even faster than it had previously.
Satoru swaggers in as you sheepishly look in his direction with your arms across your chest, doing all you can to preserve your modesty.
“Wow.” he sneers, a teasing lilt in his tone as he looks at you both. Sweaty and dazed, though one of you seems to look less embarrassed than the other. “I knew this would happen.”
“It’s not what it looks—”
“Your tits are in his face and I can see a bruise forming on your neck, sweetheart.” he interjects, getting closer to you both. “I’m not judgin’. Why would I?” he smiles.
You can’t help but feel like you’ve been set up.
“Oh fuck,” you moan, “It’s too much Satoru. I can’t. I can’t. Y-You’ll have to wait your turn!” you protest as he prods at your already occupied cunt. But despite your whining he continues to push himself inside of you, determined to stretch you to your very limit. He shudders at the sight of your pussy swallowing his tip and doing all it can to spit it back out.
He’s been watching on the sidelines, patiently, as Suguru fucks you in the comfort of your own bed. Palming himself as he gets off to the image of his best friend’s cock drilling into your perfect little cunt. He thought he could be patient, but he was sorely mistaken. He’s seen with his own two eyes how well you can ride cock, but he wants to see how well you can handle getting railed.
He pushes you down towards Suguru has his palm splays across your back. You’re soon comforted by the feeling of his lips on yours, though you break away to moan as Satoru inches in further and further. His cock flush against his best friends without a single care, revelling in the sounds of your ragged breath and desperate whimpers.
“I can’t wait, baby. You’re swallowin’ this cock so good. Just take it, yeah?” he tells you, slapping your ass as he starts fucking you slowly.
“You look so pretty full of cock, sweetheart. Does it feel good?” Suguru asks as he plants his feet down onto the mattress and starts to fuck you in tandem.
You nod as a response, yelping as you feel Satoru’s fingers interlace with your hair and yank you up towards him. Your sweat coated back pressed flush against his chest. His free hand holds your hips while he uses your hair to his leverage as his pace becomes brutal. Your pussy oozes and gushes as they each poke and prod and fondle you through their eager assault.
Suguru’s hands wander to pinch and slap your tits, his lip bitten raw as he gets off to the sight of your flesh jiggling and bouncing in all of the right ways.
You squeak, unable to utter a single word or even so much as moan as you begin to squirt from the pleasure. The feeling is enough to have Suguru tumbling over the edge right after you while Satoru wraps his arm around you to play with your clit.
“Again.” he orders, pulling you away from Suguru so that he can kneel in front of your twitching pussy.
The pleasure builds again. Harder, slower, but finally you snap. Your cunt gushes divinely and Suguru savours every last drop. Satoru finishes deep as his balls tighten and he moans pathetically in your ear. But he doesn’t give you or himself a second to relax as he hooks his arms under the bends of your knees, spreading you open wide so that your combined coupling drips out of your hole.
Suguru buries his face in your cunt, slurping up the mess created by the three of you. He sticks his tongue out to show you the lewd combination of your fluids, before looking at Satoru with lust filled eyes. Satoru leans in to kiss him, accepting the tangy tasting mixture into his own mouth before looking down at you.
“Your cunt tastes beautiful, sweetheart.” Suguru tells you as he lightly spanks your clit.
Satoru forces you to look in his direction as he holds your jaw, prompting you to open your mouth wide for him. He kisses you passionately, encouraging you to follow his lead and welcome to lewd fluids onto your own awaiting tongue. You gasp as the taste hits you, but before you can object, he covers your mouth and pinches your nose with one hand.
“Swallow it like a good little girl.” he orders, and you do.
He lets you go after that, though your body just goes limp in his arms. He helps you lie down next to Suguru as he spoons you, and your childhood crush peppers you skin in delicate kisses as you begin to drift off.
“I’m glad I went to see that shitty movie the other day.” Satoru smirks.
© 2024 rinhaler
@enchantedforest-network
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building off of this platonic yandere batfam headcanon where they're slaves to your moods and whims...
I also kind of enjoy the idea of batfam revering and fearing batsib. Not enough to lesson their control over you (or back off their affection in any way), but they want your love so badly / think you're a jewel among rubble / cling to your every thought... I can see them freezing up when they know they're about to make you mad, or when you give your opinion.
Tim's like, "*shaky sigh* hi... we need to upgrade the tracking chip in your neck :) itwasbruce'sidea." (his idea actually)
or they know your triggers by heart (mentioning your past family, your aspirations of travel, lost career goals, etc) and immediate silence falls over them as they wait for your reaction.
This works especially well for Darlings that withdraw into themselves. It's impossible to NEVER give a single opinion or extra explanation, so on the rare occasion when you divulge something about yourself, they're like oh god its happening JOT THAT DOWN
Dick is good at talking around your pointed silence, even if he gets nervous under your glare. He has stars in his eyes when you finally engage with him, even if it's only a sentence more than your usual "yes/no" responses.
Dick is unpredictable too because you never know where his limit is. It's fine, it's fine, it's fine, then he comes back from patrol with broken knuckles and the scariest look on his face because he couldn't take the stress anymore. The only one in the house who will match your anger (rarely happens, though), and he apologizes through actions, not words.
Jason, who always has some shitty remark to make, finds himself at a loss for words when you're not talking. You two sit with your arms crossed in silence and look sour for two hours, then he walks away thinking it was a relatively good visit.
He gets overwhelmed the easiest when you're mad. When you're in a bad mood, very slight disturbance in the house sets him off and he needs the rest of the day to cool off.
Tim has no clue how to handle you. He doesn't fit the reliable older brother role and he can't fool anyone with the doe-eyed baby brother act, so I think he'd take the "best friend sibling" approach.
He's always trying new ways to curry your favor, despite it occasionally pissing you off from how obvious his attempts are. Tim's the least likely to be deterred by your rejection, despite how deeply it hurts. He sulks in the shower for an hour then gets out to cause problems only he can solve.
Kind of like how Damian absorbed Dick and Bruce's moral code because it fit his end goal of being Batman, I feel he would do the same to you but for slightly different reasons.
Damian walks around like your mirror. He unconsciously mimics everything you do, absorbing your behaviors and speech like a sponge. An outsider wouldn't be able to see past his trained neutral expression, but on the inside he thinks you're so cool.
He also copies you as a coping mech in order to limit upsetting you, and gets VERY embarrassed when he says something that contradicts your feelings.
Bruce, ever the scapegoat, has resigned himself to the brunt of your anger. He can't weasel his way into your heart like the boys can, so he's the most transparent about his bonding efforts. His gifts and attention are steady and unrelenting, no matter the response.
I think he's the sweetest... He's definitely the best listener in the house, and genuinely wants nothing more than for you to be safe and happy. Yes he wants you to accept the child/sibling role, but he won't manipulate you to get there (unlike some of the boys). Your anger gives him stress, but he takes it in stride.
for more yandere batfam content, visit my masterlist!
#platonic yandere batfam#platonic yandere#yandere batfam#yandere dc#yandere batman#yandere x reader#yandere damian wayne#yandere bruce wayne#yandere dick grayson#yandere jason todd#yandere tim drake#platonic yandere dc#yandere headcanons#yandere imagine
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Another Lucifer Rant | Lucifer x Reader
I'M BACK BABY
Give this man a dorky partner ffs.
Lucifer Rant (Pt. 1 kinda)
Warnings: SMUTSMUTSMUT +18, Fluff, Some mentions of overstimulation
○○○
Imagine Lucifer at his best. Sure, when you first get together, it's rocky. He needs someone to help him rediscover himself, and that takes a lot of time and energy from both of you. But after a few years, you start to see who he used to be; When he was an elder angel, daring to break the rules and pursue his dreams no matter what. It occasionally led to some destruction, but seeing him now able to recover from it so easily? It melts your heart. You were sure he wouldn't withstand the failure, but he can handle it. He can handle it because of you.
You praise him for branching out into other inventions and creations, but you'll always love his little ducks more than anything. That being said, you're not the only one seeing his creativity thrive. Hell managed to become a brighter place, with golden decorations and structures that were purely made for public enjoyment. Maybe Charlie's rubbing off on him, but he's finally taking charge of his realm and focusing on his subjects. Seeing Charlie at her best only fuels him more. She's living the life he wanted to when he was her age, and now, he had some catching up to do. He was determined.
PDAs:
With his confidence growing, he starts becoming more comfortable with PDAs. You never minded them, but it was nice to see him letting out his emotions in any way. He started off by holding your hand around others. Even though he would always become a blushing mess, even pulling away if he got too embarrassed by you smiling so geniunely at him, it was progress. It then became something he almost whined about when it wasn't happening. He wants you to hold his hand until it's uncomfortably sweaty and even after.
Lucifer would give small pecks to you as well, on your cheek when you walked in the room, your hair if you were sitting and he had access to the top of your head, and when he was in an especially good mood, a sweet peck on the lips before he'd leave.
Truly, the hardest part was saying I love you. In public and in private. What a strange phrase to get so flustered over when youve been with someone for years, and it did take years, but when he said it to you for the first time you damn near cried. After that, you would try to pepper it into conversations casually, in hopes his embarrassment or shame in the phrase would dissipate. Eventually, it did, and he grinned every time you'd say it, eager to return the phrase.
Now, you do your best to respect his boundaries, but one day it just slipped out of you, in front of a few residents and staff, one of them being Charlie. You didnt realize what you had done wrong, and honestly most of the others in the room didnt either, but once you saw Lucifer's overwhelmed expression it clicked that you may have messed up. You looked around to gauge the room and casually walked over to his shrinking form.
"I'm sorry, my love." You leaned in a bit to whisper to him," Do you need to step out? Should I say anything?" You did your best to stay calm, to be his anchor in this situation, but he cleared his throat and picked up his voice a little louder than your previously hushed tone. "L-Love you, too..! Sweetheart.." it was a small intimacy, but dear lord, were you proud of him. You could tell he struggled to do that, even if no one else paid attention to it. His eyes darted to Charlie, who was suddenly meeting his gaze from the other side of the room, and her eyes were absolutely wide and full to the brim with pride.
You had a few conversations with Charlie about everything. She didn't want too many details, just an update on how he's handling himself when she's not around. As he would get better with confiding his feelings to others, he would eventually talk to Charlie about issues and concerns, but for now, you were happy to relay the news to her.
He's her father, of course she wants nothing more than for him to be happy. It's not like she didn't see his struggle, so she couldn't help but feel pride for this little affection and any of his progress. She was quickly pulled away by Vaggie to avoid an outburst of happy tears in front of everyone, which Lucifer didn't mind. You gave him a quick peck on his forehead after looking around the room and took your seat next to him, continuing a conversation that you barely remember starting.
There were some situations where he would let you perform the PDAs. Sometimes, you would push his limits just to see how far he'd go. He wasn't super into movie nights, but Charlie really loved the idea of watching and discussing movies with wholesome values; an exercise to get people to know eachother amd have healthy debates on certain topics that definitely wouldn't turn into arguments. It happened about twice a month, good movies becoming harder to find in Hell.
You sat next to him close enough that your plush thigh was against his leg. He didn't seem to care too much, I mean, he loved it, but he didn't get too flustered. You would reach your arm around the back of the couch to simulate wrapping your arm around his shoulder, brushing your fingertips across the back of his shirt every now and then. The first time you did it, it took him by surprise, but after that, you could see the enjoyment of your touch.
You made sure to sit on the couch behind everyone else. Otherwise, he would feel the need to constantly look over his shoulders. You would try a few things, like placing your hand over his, then interlacing your fingers, then bringing it to your lips whenever the screen would go black and plunge the room in darkness. He seemed to handle it pretty well.
One night, you'd start off by leaning towards him and sitting on your legs, resting your head on his shoulder. He would respond by hesitantly placing his hand at your waist. You snuggled into him a bit more, making him redder in the face, but also giving him a subtle you're doing great.
If he did ever get too uncomfortable, he'd pull a blanket up and around both your shoulders, giving him a sense of security. On another night, you tried to pull him into you. It happened throughout the movie. You would pull him in by his waist, and he would scooch closer to you, then he would prop his arm up behind you and press his cheek against your shoulder. This was definitely a favorite position of his. Some tiring days, he would nod off. You made sure to wake him before anyone noticed.
Privacy:
After a while, he'd especially love touching you in private. When you would sit on his little couch and work on your own things in his office, he would take breaks and come over to lay his head in your lap. If he's lucky, you'd be reading or doing something where you only needed one hand, so your vacant fingers could be used to lightly comb through his hair.
He would take any chance to be above you, leaning down over the couch when you were sitting and giving you light kisses, or wrapping his arms around you while he stood on the elevated platform his workbench was set on.
With all the issues he had to overcome, you noticed he never really seemed too upset over his height. He was an angelic all-powerful beast, it's not like he was forced to look that way. I mean, you saw him shapeshift, he could easily add a few feet to his height. Actually, sometimes it seemed like he enjoyed the height difference. Whenever you would have to bend at the hips to give him a level kiss, he would make the goofiest grin. Or when you'd wear heels, he would constantly offer to fasten them on your feet and shower you with affection, then in public, he'd place his hand around your hips instead of linking your arms like usual.
Goofy Stuff:
His overly confident mask that he would use to intimidate others and laugh off serious situations was finally becoming more sincere. You loved seeing him that way, bringing smiles to everyone in the room when he spoke. When it was just the two of you, all his energy went into making you smile. And it always worked, he would make you giddy.
He loved to simply be around you. When you had to get ready for some kind of event, he would sit next to you at your vanity, simply watching you doll yourself up. He'd praise you, "you look so beautiful, darling~" then he'd tease you, "you know, i think that color would look much better on me." And you weren't one to back down, applying a thick layer of gloss to your lips and pulling him in to transfer as much as you could onto his lips. You pulled away, unphased, and went back to your makeup. "Hm! I agree! I'll let you wear it more often, then." He'd stammer out some sort of angry reply and cross his arms over his chest, having to admit defeat.
When you'd come home and would need to wash your face, you'd repeat your skin care routine on him. He didn't need it, but he loved to feel your hands touch and massage his face. In exchange, you'd force him to let you groom him (preening his wings, maybe cleaning up his eyesbrows, styling his hair in new ways, etc.) If you had the energy for it, that is. It was like clipping a cats nails. But the reaction and the outcome were so worth it.
You'd do his makeup on occasion, sometimes going far too dramatic for his taste just to watch him struggle to admit it wasn't his style without insulting you. You'd admit it was on purpose, and he'd tackle you playfully. Like before, you both ended up with the same lip color afterward.
You loved to get eachother flustered, sometimes youd pat him on the bottom when moving past him just to see him dramatically gasp." My love, we're in public! Right in front of Keekee??" He'd dramatically gesture to the cat who quite literally left the room while he was talking.
He'd blow into your ear when you were distracted, sending a chill down your spine. You'd knock your head into his on purpose, and he would swoon, crying out about being mistreated. Truly a theatric man.
Overall, he was finally bringing a geniune confidence to the table and you couldnt be prouder of him.
18+ Intimacy:
He was quick to discover he liked all the fluffy, cuddly stuff, but it took him years to rekindle any kind of sexual attraction to anyone. It was another big insecurity that he had, wondering if it was one of the reasons he drove Lillith off. It's not like he had anything to compare his work to, but he definitely didn't need to worry. Practice makes perfect. (And he was with Lillith for thousands of years.. so... plenty of time for practice.)
At first, you'd take the lead. You didn't mind. You loved taking care of him. After he'd suggest you two become more intimate, you'd still have to stop after some deep kisses and light grinding. Not that he would finish so soon, he just didn't have the stability to even imagine going through a night with your intimate gaze on him for so long. After a while, you'd start sitting on his lap, constantly reassuring him and giving him praises for doing so good. "If you need to stop, let me know, my love. Tap me -" you would lead his hand to the top of your thigh, " - if you can't find the words, okay?" He would let out a nervous chuckle, subconsiously giving your thigh a soft squeeze at the motion before nodding his head.
You had to talk him through everything, and dear lord, did he love hearing your voice. As ironic as it is, he would melt at any praise you gave him." You're doing so good, sweetheart," "You like that, love? You look so beautiful right now~", "Mmm, keep that up, you're doing so well." No matter how much you tried to keep your voice calm and sultry, he really enjoyed and almost preferred your hitched breath and sweet words directly by his ear. The phrase that got him going more than anything? "I love you, Lucifer." The combination of those words and hearing his name slip from your lips almost always made him whimper quietly.
When you first heard him whimpering, you would subtly check on him, making sure he was doing okay without embarrassing him and calling it out. Oh, he was doing okay. More than okay.
You would usually proposition him, but sometimes, he would blatantly ask you if you two could be intimate. It was always so cute when he did that. But one day, he asked shyly for you to sit, then he hesitantly sat on your lap. Your rosie cheeks grew even redder, and you placed your cool hands on your face to try and calm yourself. It took you a second to finally look up at him, his expression even more embarrassed than yours. You hated to admit that it made you feel better, but it really did. You took your hands and placed them on his cheeks, which were much hotter than yours. He rubbed his face into your palm, his hand holding your wrist to keep your touch close.
After a moment, he'd lean down to kiss you, it was just bliss. The rare view he had, looking down to meet your eyes, left him happy to give in to his more intimate desires. After being seated on your lap for so long, and finally adjusting to the unconscious grinding that would go on, he'd start to reach for the edge of his pants without much thought. Once he had pulled out his shaft, your eyes would quickly widen and break away from the kiss to assess the situation. Before you could, he lifted your head back to look into his eyes, suddenly glowing red. "P-Please, can I.. i don't know if im ready for, b-but- I need - " his eyes were a threatening color, but you noted that he was still struggling with this decision. He still needed some time before letting you touch him that way.
You pulled him in for another kiss, "I won't look or touch, okay? That's what you want?" You clarified, running your hands through his hair. He nodded shyly, his hand still holding onto himself. You smiled and reconnected your lips. "Okay, love. I don't mind at all - " you reassured him, taking his free hand and kissing his palm. Looking up at him through his fingers, you grinned into his hand, grazing your teeth down his wrist." I would be honored, actually." You say bravely, the situation giving your boldness a boost. He would let out a nervous laugh that seemed almost too loud, then follow it by sucking in his lips to not embarrass himself anymore than he already has.
Keeping up with his speed, you did only what he was comfortable with. Doing only what he wanted from you. It made you almost arrogant to feel him stroke himself and whimper into your lips, getting off just from your kisses alone. You would break away only to leave some soft kisses on his neck. You attempted to leave a hickey or two below his jawline, but he quickly tapped your thigh, wordlessly telling you that was too much. "Good boy~" you'd breathe against his neck, seeing his chest heave at the words. You moved down to his collarbone and chest, slowly beginning to suck in and bite his porcelain skin there. He let out a muffled agreement and nodded his head, more accepting of somewhere that would be easier to cover. You left almost too many bruises on him after that. To be fair, any blossoming mark was exentuated against his sensitive, white skin.
It didn't take too long for him to finish after that. He let out a gasp, then a muffled moan as you felt some of his fluids leak onto your stomach. He didn't even let himself get over his high before pulling a tissue out of thin air and cleaning you up. You let your head lean back, looking towards the cieling as he situated himself, keeping your promise to not look until he's ready. "O-oooh dear.. That was... Gross, right? Sorry.." You quickly look at him and scoffed, holding onto his face and pulling it close. "Don't say that, Lucifer..! Thank you for trusting me with this..." You brushed your thumb across his cheek, his expression still disheartened." I wouldn't have let that happen if I didn't want it, you know that. Besides, if you're really concerned, i'll just have to join you next time." You teased a sly smirk across your face. His eye twitched, and you could feel the heat in his face return." Good lord, I don't deserve you." He squeaked out before standing up and almost tripping over himself, complaining about his stiff legs right away.
Side note: I feel like when he would complain about being sore at all, you'd joke at him and say things like, "Oh, don't be a baby." And he'd reply with a joke, "Woah there, save the dirty talk for the bedroom." And that's what triggers you to start calling him baby any chance you could get, especially in the bedroom.
Going all the way was a big step. He was more comfortable starting on top of you, but just like before, he realized how much he preferred, loved, to have you ride him. You made sure he had the tapping system in effect, but he would constantly check on him the first time he asked to try it this way. You were almost ashamed to admit you got a bit carried away. With you almost hitting your high, you probably took on more than he could handle. You didn't realize until you looked down at his face. His eyes were shut tight, a tear or two rolling down his heated face, and his lips were parted and letting out pathetic little noises. A face that some might see as a demon drunk on sex, but you knew you had taken him a little too hard. You slowed down, his breath finally becoming lighter." I-I'm sorry.. I-I -" his voice was raspy as his began apolgizing." No - don't be. I'll be gentle." You finally started back up, a slow grind, after letting him catch his breath. "Remember to use your words, baby - " You took his hand and planted it on your thigh as another reminder to communicate his thoughts. He nodded, a slight hitch in his breath as you spoke. You went on to cherish a more intimate night with him.
That's how it started, but as time went on, your playful relationship came to the bedroom. Lucifer would be in the middle of grinding his hips into yours, attempting to say something flirtatious in your ear when his voice would crack, or he'd say something that didn't come out right. You'd cover your mouth in an attempt to not laugh." Oh, cmon! I'm trying to be sexy here." He'd waggle his eyebrows at you and youd bring him into a smiling kiss. "Well, i'd say you're doing a great job, babe." You spoke so sincerely afterward that he'd become a little flustered. "O-Oh.. you.. think so..?" You hummed against his ear,
"Nope~"
He'd let out an aggravated groan and start to get off of your lap." No-no! I'm sorry, i'm kidding! You're sexy, come back!" You'd laugh out, reaching for his hips and planting him back onto your lap." Damn right, I am." He'd grumble, smashing his lips against yours in a suddenly intense kiss. In all honesty, probably to shut you up.
---
You love him so dearly. You barely realize how much he loves you, maybe due to how badly he struggles with his words. As time goes on, all Lucifer wants is to give himself to you. Give every little bit of his love to the one who's spent so much time caring for him and helping him become a better person. He'd sometimes consider that he could never be able to return the favor.
But he would. You knew he could.
○○○
I'll still take requests for some Luci prompts if anyone's thirstin'
Also, I have over 100 followers?? Which i wasn't expecting to happen when I first made this account (literally made it just to look at Hazbin smut if i'm outing myself) So thanks for all the support! This is such a great community 🥹
#hazbin hotel#hazbin#lucifer hazbin#lucifer hazbin hotel#lucifer magne#hazbin hotel fandom#hazbin hotel smut#lucifer morningstar#hazbin lucifer#hazbin lucifer morningstar#lucifer morningstar x you#lucifer my beloved#lucifer x you#lucifer x reader smut#hazbin hotel lucifer#lucifer x reader
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Could you do.....maybe Sofia canceling a date with Rafe because her paycheck got delayed, and she feels to embarressed to go on dates in the same clothes and had plan to buy new things. She tells him that she is sick, but then he sees her at a bonfire party. He feels heartbroken thinking she lied because she is tired of him while he is head over heels, he walks off, she runs after.....ANGGSTTT <3
˚⊱🪷⊰˚ date night
{a/n: sorry for taking so long to get to my requests but I hope it was worth the wait!!}
{summary: sofia can’t make it to date night, and rafe’s not happy about it…}
꣑ৎ˚⊹ 🍥 。𖦹꣑ৎ˚⊹ 🍥 。𖦹꣑ৎ˚⊹ 🍥 。𖦹꣑ৎ˚⊹ 🍥 。𖦹꣑ৎ˚⊹ 🍥 。𖦹꣑ৎ˚⊹ 🍥
“You really like that dress don’t you?” Ruthie said with a slimy smirk across her face.
Those words echoed through Sofia’s mind as she stared at her closet trying to figure out what to wear with her date with Rafe.
She hadn’t even thought twice about the clothes she wore in front of Rafe and his friends before– having enough confidence in her sense of style. Sofia had carefully curated a wardrobe from lucky thrift store finds and the occasional designer splurge when she had some of her pay check left over.
So when Ruthie had teasingly poked fun at her favourite dress (a satiny, floral slip that she adored), her cheeks flushed red with embarrassment.
“It’s so cute though, if you like that sorta thing, I can understand why you wear it so much,” Ruthie had continued, hiding her bitchy words under a guise of tooth-aching sweetness.
She hadn’t thought about it again until Rafe had asked her to come out to dinner with him a couple nights later. Sofia enthusiastically accepted– it was only when she got home to get ready, seeing her limited selection of clothes, did the stirring regret begin to overwhelm her senses and Ruthie’s words begin to engulf her brain.
She still had time to go out and buy something new, something Rafe would like (and something that would shut Ruthie up), but when she checked her account balance, she realised she didn’t have enough. After the bills for her siblings tuition and the chunk of her wage she’d spent helping her parents fix the car, she was left with nothing. And she wasn’t getting paid again till a couple weeks.
Sofia huffed exasperatedly, sinking into her bed. She hated feeling like this…feeling inferior. What if Rafe through the same thing? That he was taking her to all these flashy places, driving her around in his shiny car and she couldn’t even dress up a bit for it?
With a sinking heart, Sofia grabbed her phone to call him.
It went through instantly.
“Hey baby, everything ok?” He asked, his voice eliciting somersaults in her stomach.
“Hi Rafe, I just…I don’t think I can do dinner tonight, I’ve got this horrible headache and I think I’m just gonna go to sleep,” she fibbed, biting her lip.
“We don’t have to go out, I can pick you you up and we can just chill at mine– order from that place you like?”
Sofia didn’t like lying to him, it almost physically pained her, gnawing at her bottom lip and playing with the dead skins around her thumb. “I think I just needs some rest.”
“Ok then, get well soon yeah? And text me if you need anything alright? Goodnight Sof,” he said, disappointment toning his words.
“Night Rafe.”
She ended the call quickly, burning hot with guilt– she hated lying. Especially to her boyfriend of all people.
And now she had nothing to do for the rest of the night all because she was too embarrassed to wear the same thing twice…it was honestly so stupid. Sofia huffed and turned around in her bed.
As if sensing her impending boredom, her phone buzzed with a text from her friend, talking about a bonfire party at the Boneyard.
Sofia smiled too herself, slipping on her worn trainers and getting ready to head to the beach.
She didn’t have to worry about what to wear there.
꣑ৎ˚⊹ 🍥 。𖦹꣑ৎ˚⊹ 🍥 。𖦹꣑ৎ˚⊹ 🍥 。𖦹꣑ৎ˚⊹ 🍥 。𖦹꣑ৎ˚⊹ 🍥 。𖦹꣑ৎ˚⊹ 🍥
Rafe, along with Topper, Kelce and Ruthie drove down to the Boneyard. He wasn’t supposed to tag along, but with Sofia cancelling their plans, he had nothing better to do.
As they rolled down the rocky beach in Topper’s jeep, Rafe pulled out his phone, sending Sofia a quick text.
R: Hope that headache goes away soon then maybe we can reschedule? :)
Rafe was surprised at how disappointed he felt after she said she couldn’t make it. All he could think about sitting in the back of the car, watching the Stygian waves roll onto the coast, was how much he’d rather be with her right now.
“Yo Rafe, I thought you were busy tonight?” Kelce pestered with a smirk.
Topper chuckled lowly, “oh yeah, wasn’t it date night tonight? What happened to that?”
“She wasn’t feeling too good so now I’m stuck with you idiots.” He muttered.
“Oh come on, you’ll see her again the club. I’ll make sure to ask for doubles so she’ll come by our table twice, yeah?” Ruthie goaded, twisting her body around so she could see him.
Rafe brewed with a dull anger– he always thought Ruthie was a bitch.
“Two drinks Ruthie? You sure about that? Aren’t you a lightweight?” He scoffed.
“Hey hey hey, let’s have fun tonight yeah?” Topper mediated, parking up the jeep next to the arsenal of vehicles.
The four of them hopped out, heading to the kegger, quickly getting pulled in by their kook friends, enveloped in the heady flow of gossip and conversation. Rafe just stood quietly, sipping at his third cup, enjoying the warmth of the fire on his face and salt of the air on his tongue.
His vision strayed over to the other side of the beach, where all the pogues had congregated. And that’s when he saw her. Dressed in her favourite shorts and sunset coloured hoodie– she looked gorgeous bathed in the glow of the bonfire.
Rafe felt his heart sink into the cavern of his ribcage. She lied to him.
Settling his solo cup down on to the kegger, he pulled out his phone and rang her number, watching her like a predator eyes its prey, his dilated pupils honed on to her unassuming figure.
She excused herself from her friends, walking off to a quieter area before she answered his call.
“Hey baby,” she cooed with a smile, Rafe seething in silence as he watched.
“How you feeling? Still got that headache?” He asked bluntly, his molars grinding down on each other.
“Yeah- yes, still hurts.” She said. Rafe saw her eyebrows furrow as she bit her lip furtively.
“You at home? It sounds kinda loud over the phone?”
“Yeah my siblings have the TV on,” she blatantly lied. Rafe breathed in deeply through his nose.
“Oh so you’re not at the bonfire at the boneyard?”
Rafe watched her face drop, her gaze darting around the beach as she stayed silent on the phone. She locked eyes with him from across the sand, her mouth parting slightly, lips forming a little ‘o’ shape, something that he usually found cute, but now it just irked him.
“Rafe,” she said, voice bordering a whisper.
“You fucking liar,” he hissed, before ending the call, and heading over to the cars, ready to call an Uber for himself and head home.
He tried to regulate his lurching breaths, anger beginning to flow hot through his veins, but it was hard to do when a heart rending sadness slammed into his nervous system, catching him off guard.
Sofia? A liar? No. She wasn’t like that. She wasn’t like everyone else.
His fingers struggled to order an Uber, shaking with the aftershock at seeing her deceive him with such disregard.
“Rafe! Wait please I can explain.” He whipped his head back to see Sofia approach him.
“Stop it Sofia, explain what? Huh? How you lied to me?”
A pang of regret reverberated through him when he saw her glassy, tear filled eyes, her quivering lip. Was he being too harsh? No. She was the one who was in the wrong– not him.
“I’m sorry, I just, it’s ugh it’s going to sound so stupid Rafe, but I promise I didn’t mean to hurt or lie to you.”
“What’s going to sound so stupid? Why you made an excuse to get out of being with me? You hate me that bad huh?”
“No no! Of course not. Look, Ruthie said something the other day…” she began, her cheeks red and tear stained.
“Ruthie? What the fuck does she have to do with this?” He yelled. They were on the outskirts of the party, away from the crowds and crackle of firewood.
“She was making fun of how I wear the same thing all the time, you know? And it made me get self conscious…and tonight when I was getting ready, I just got in my own head, thought you would want me dress up more, not just wear the same things every time.”
Rafe’s face contorted in confusion. She couldn’t be serious right now?
“And I can’t just buy a new dress like that, I have bills to pay and stuff so I was just feeling sorry for myself and lied because of my own stupid feelings.” Sofia’s lips began to quiver, another bout of tears quickly approaching, before she shrouded her face with her hands, muffling her soft cries.
“Sof…” he said, tone gentle and kind, feeling like shit for shouting at her. He should’ve know Sofia had a reason for lying and he should’ve know Ruthie had something to do with it.
“Ugh it was so stupid, and I feel like an idiot.” She laughed mirthlessly, as he pulled her into a hug, letting her cry against his chest.
“Baby, you know I don’t care right?”
“Yeah I know. I care though.” She mumbled against his warm embrace.
“Come on, let’s get out of here yeah?”
“Yeah, ok. I’m sorry again, I feel terrible.”
Rafe slung an easy arm around her shoulder, leading her up to road where their taxi was going to meet them, “well don’t, otherwise I’ll feel like shit for shouting at you.”
“Fine. Truce?”
Rafe chuckled softly, looking down at her with a soft smile, as she gazed up at him with her glossy eyes.
“Yeah, truce.”
꣑ৎ˚⊹ 🍥 。𖦹꣑ৎ˚⊹ 🍥 。𖦹꣑ৎ˚⊹ 🍥 。𖦹꣑ৎ˚⊹ 🍥 。𖦹꣑ৎ˚⊹ 🍥 。𖦹꣑ৎ˚⊹ 🍥
A couple days later, after Sofia had slept over at his place, she woke up to the birds singing on Figure 8, a sound lost amidst the cacophony of building work and barking dogs on the Cut. She sighed contentedly, turning around in the sumptuous sheets ready to nestle up against Rafe, to find the bed empty. She hummed in dismay, forgetting it was Sunday, the day he needed to go down to the office.
Eventually, after letting her eyes flutter shut for a couple more blissful minutes, Sofia rolled out of bed, slipping on Rafe’s shirt, a habit she was getting increasingly used to.
She pattered across the hard wood floors ready to get into the shower, before her eyes snagged on something resting on the drawers. It was a cream coloured bag, one from those fancy stores in Kildare Town Centre, the straps made of black silk.
On it was a sticky note, Rafe’s familiar scratchy writing scrawled across the paper.
Now you don’t have an excuse to miss dinner with me :)
Sofia’s eyebrows quirked up in curiosity as she read the cryptic note, rifling into the bag.
Inside was maybe a dozen items of clothes, from satin dresses to cashmere shirts, all in shades of her favourite colours– blooming pinks, soft oranges, cherry reds. She adored every single one.
Her heart soared with excitement and warmth, her cheeks tinged with a rosy blush. Rafe could sometimes be so sweet it left her weak-kneed and gooey, her insides alight with joy.
A creeping sensation of guilt arose– these must’ve been expensive. Sofia noticed he’d removed all the tags off them, probably anticipating her qualms about the price. But she put it aside, ready to first try them on. She’d pay him back, she told herself, running her hands over the silken fabric.
Carefully unpacking each item, she laid them out on the bed, until her fingers skimmed the final one.
Pulling it out, she rolled her eyes with a small smile when she saw the two piece lingerie set Rafe had nestled at the bottom, comprised of black lace and gossamer.
Sofia laughed softly, as she put the piece along with the rest of her gifts– maybe she already had a way to pay him back, one that was much more fun than working double shifts at the club.
꣑ৎ˚⊹ 🍥 。𖦹꣑ৎ˚⊹ 🍥 。𖦹꣑ৎ˚⊹ 🍥 。𖦹꣑ৎ˚⊹ 🍥 。𖦹꣑ৎ˚⊹ 🍥 。𖦹꣑ৎ˚⊹ 🍥
#outer banks#rafe and sofia#rafe x sofia#sofia outer banks#rafe cameron#sofia obx#drew starkey#fiona palomo#rafe cameron and sofia fanfiction#rafe cameron fanfiction#rafe cameron angst#rafe cameron fluff#outer banks 4#༊*·˚syren
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This thing had been rotting in my files for a year (minus three weeks but that's basically a year). It was a redraw of one of my first ever pieces for this fandom, and I still find it quite okay if a little stiff in places, so I thought I might as well share it since I don't draw that much anymore.
And then I had second thoughts, which obviously led to me posting it anyway, as you can see, but I realized I've almost made it a point not to draw anything related to Sasi anymore. As in at all. I can't, and I don't want to, and even sharing old art feels a bit 'meh'. It's too directly linked to my long going art block.
What I mean by that is that if I took all the followers I have out there and asked them what they know me or initially followed me for, you might have a fair amount of Lis 2 and the occasional Desert Bluffs afficionados, but you'd get an overwhelming majority of Sanders Sides. Sanders Sides fashion posts even. I was by no means famous for it or anything, but at my small artist scale, it was the biggest success I had.
And it makes it much harder to go back to it at all now. One, because I don't give a damn about the show anymore. Two, because I haven't been properly obsessing over anything in a while (there was a series early this year but given the actual emotional distress I get thinking about it I'm ruling it out). I haven't had real engagement from my own brain, nor real engagement from a broad audience -which makes sense, I'm not posting for anything that will reach a broad audience. But it takes its toll regardless.
Even when I finally finished writing a long fic, I couldn't help but feel 'all this for what ? Ten people or so and two hundreds have dropped it ?'. Which is a bad way to think about stuff you write for your own enjoyment but, you know, the brain gets happy with external validation even if you pretend really hard you don't care.
And so it feels tempting to go back to the golden goose just the time to get the creative juice pumping back, and I try, and I always end up frustrated and angry and feeling even less like making art that before. I'm not having fun with Sasi. Like an old friend you have nothing to say to and yet you have so much to say otherwise, so you get a bit frustrated, you know ? Not sure I'm making much sense, but that's how it feels. I want to have something like that again, but it won't be with Sanders Sides, and I somehow just want if off my radar.
It was left hanging, then lost its spark, and then I stopped caring altogether and I most likely won't even watch the finale when it does come out. I'm over it. I wish I wasn't though, because it does feel like the artistic spark won't come back all on its own this time, and the buzzing community made it so much easier to bounce back and do shit when your brain got wired all wrong.
It sounds like I'm just bawling after love and likes and stuff, and I guess that's part of it, in a way ? Like I'm in no place to do things for myself, and seeing the one thing I used to use to get back in the flow giving me a bored sense of dread doesn't feel too great.
Yet this drawing is still good ! I find it good ! I don't remember everything, but I can tell from the looks of it that I spent a while on it ! It's nice ! I should celebrate that. So I'm sharing it. I think it will be the last piece of Sasi I ever share, though. I'm not watching the finale when it comes out. I don't care about it. I'll just keep doodling my OCs and characters from cool books every once in a while. I'll write little things.
I just really, really need to stop trying to go back to it when it's clearly not working and not even for good reasons. It was a fun ride though ! So yeah. Basically. A whole ass rant for a one year old piece of art. I'm in my bi-annual depresso mood, nothing too surprising there.
#I don't know how to put it into smart words really#it's just. yeah it's like that.#there's a lack of sharing for me I guess#bouncing off people's ideas and all#I consume quite a bit still#but it's not the same#Sasi was my golden age in that matter and it's been years#end result I lowkey hate it now#sanders sides#you can reblog it btw the rant isn't the most personal thing#it's more of a thing about sharing and art and community and engagement I guess
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Nightmare Comfort with Negan
Summary: just a quick drabble about Negan comforting you after a nightmare
Pairing: Negan x f!Reader (established relationship)
Tags: comfort, 100% fluff, some suggestive language, pet names
Word Count: 1.6k
You can’t remember anything.
The world is shrouded in darkness, your eyes unable to focus. The only thing you can make some sense of is the heavy and oppressive heat that envelops you, making every breath a haggard struggle.
Reaching out, your hands feel the soft plush of the duvet.
Acting on impulse, you kick your legs out frantically in a desperate attempt to break free from its smothering embrace.
Despite your efforts, something dense stays around your torso, its grip like a vice. The hammering of your heart echoes loudly in your ears, the initial confusion of your sudden awakening now being overshadowed by the anxiety of your nightmare.
The world nowadays is much scarier than anything your brain can conjure up into a nightmare and yet, nothing manages to scare you more. It can be quite the conundrum when you think about it; your brain, the very thing that has kept you alive and surviving in this world just so happens to be the source of the most horrific thoughts that plague your dreams.
With a slight tremble in your hand, you gingerly reach for your stomach and grasp whatever is around you. Your fingers dig into skin that isn’t yours, sparse hairs tickling the tips of your fingers. It’s an arm.
His arm.
Even with your jolt awake, Negan remains asleep. The only movement he makes is a slight shift in his position as you gently pry his arm off of you. A sigh of relief falls from your lips.
Unfortunately, the overwhelming heat persists. Your t-shirt sticks to your back, the fabric damp with sweat, while your scalp feels slick and clammy.
“Shit,” you curse though your voice sounds hollow, as if it’s a struggle to speak.
Trying not to disturb Negan, you carefully swing your legs over the side of the bed and stand. You try not to move too much, shuffling along in the hopes of avoiding the sensation of your drenched t-shirt clinging to your skin.
Get a new t-shirt, go back to bed, relax.
Those three simple tasks echo in your mind, a mantra to soothe your racing thoughts. You repeat them silently, trying to force your mind to focus on anything other than the nightmare.
With a shaky breath, you make your way across the room, the cold floor in stark contrast to your body heat as you search for a clean t-shirt. The soft rustle of fabric and the occasional squeak of the floorboards under your weight interrupts the silence of the night but you’re sure it’s not enough to wake Negan.
Quickly ridding yourself of the sweat-soaked shirt, you cast it aside without a thought as to where it lands. That mess can wait until the morning, not now.
The new t-shirt feels cool against your skin, a respite from the heat. You take a moment to appreciate the sensation, a small comfort in the midst of your distress.
“Y’can leave it off if you want,” a deep voice slurs with sleep.
The darkness obscures your view, making it impossible to see Negan's face. But you can sense his fixed gaze on you. It almost feels like he has some sixth sense that jumpstarts when you start removing clothes.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you,” you manage to say, whispering despite it being just the two of you. Negan grunts in response, dismissing your apologetic tone.
“Everything ok?” he queries, Negan’s low voice tinged with worry.
He can sense your hesitation. You look elsewhere and begin fidgeting awkwardly, trying to delay the inevitable.
Negan doesn't rush you, patiently allowing the silence to stretch for a few moments before you finally admit it, the words slipping out with a sigh "Nightmare".
His voice softens “You coming back to bed?”.
Although you’ve grown accustomed to sharing a bed with Negan, an unexpected sense of shyness washes over you. Padding back across the room, you quietly crawl into his waiting embrace.
Ironically, the unbearable heat that clung to your skin only a couple of seconds ago subsides as you press your body against Negan's chest, seeking refuge in his arms.
You let your forehead rest against his chest, as if you’re trying to smother yourself in him. The rhythmic rise and fall of his breath helps you with your own breathing as you subtly mimic his steady pace.
Despite his boisterous nature, Negan has always been an anchor for you in moments like this, when even words seem to fail. But, true to form, Negan doesn’t let the silence stretch on for too long.
“Wanna talk about it?” he gently probes, his voice somewhat playful as he adds “or, I can think of one or two things we could do to take your mind off of it”. He draws lazy circles on your back, skimming the edge of your t-shirt as he does.
You try to find the right words to say but in the end, you simply opt for mumbling “Not really”.
He hums in understanding “You been awake long?”.
“Not that long,” you reply vaguely. He lets your answer simmer. You focus on the small puffs of air that you can feel hit the top of your head. When you don’t say anything else, he pokes your side, gently prodding you for more.
You resist, staying quiet.
Negan lets out a faint chuckle, his lips brushing your hair as he plants a small kiss on your head. His voice is a warm rumble against you. “C’mon, baby,” he coaxes, his tone teasing yet affectionate “I’m gonna need a little more than that”.
It’s not fair.
Why is it so difficult to open up?! Opening up should be simple, especially when it’s to Negan of all people. This is the man who knows you better than anyone else, and all he wants to know about is a nightmare, he’s not asking you for your deepest secrets!
Yet the idea of delving into the fears that come with a nightmare make you hesitate. The world is scary enough as it is, you don’t need him worrying about what’s going on in your head on top of it all.
“I just–” you immediately cut yourself off, your throat tightening. A wave of emotions overcomes you, a strange sense of fear and uncertainty closing in. “I don’t want to fall back into that dream o-or have another one. I don’t even think that makes sense but I just, I can’t, it was too much, it is too much-”.
Negan shushes you as your voice gets higher and higher as you fight back the sudden tears. “It’s alright,” he comforts you, his hand cupping your cheek as Negan’s thumb automatically swipes at your cheek, trying to clear away any tears that may have fallen “you wanna get up? Pretty sure I still got some leftovers if you want some”.
“No thanks… I don’t think I know what I want to do,” you sigh, knowing full well you probably sound like an overtired toddler as you try to keep your tears at bay.
Looking down at you, Negan thinks for a few moments. “You’re pretty shit at sleepin’, you know that?” he makes the observation of the century.
That breaks some of the tension and you scoff out a laugh. “C’mere,” both of Negan’s hands go to your waist as he gently manoeuvres you from laying on his chest to a spooning position. His lanky body comes around you, his legs pressed close behind yours, his chest against your back and his head close to yours on the pillow.
Despite your comfy position, a weary huff escapes your lips. The tension in your head stubbornly persists, hellbent on preventing you from succumbing to sleep.
Sensing your hesitation in an instant, Negan responds in a soothing tone. “We’re just cuddling, no need to start thinking about sleep just yet” he effortlessly draws you away from your overactive mind and puts you right back into a state of calm.
As much as you try to fight it, a yawn escapes your lips.
"Relax, sweetheart. Close your eyes and count some sheep or something. If I feel you thrashing around in your sleep, I'll kick you right out of that nightmare," he promises.
As much as you want to take his words at face value, you always are one to push back. "But how can you know for sure?" you whisper, worry creeping into your voice "If you fall back to sleep too, how will you wake me up?".
Negan lets out an amused scoff, his sleepy smirk widening into a grin. "Oh, sweetheart, you best believe all of me will be wide awake if I feel your body writhing against me in your sleep," he assures.
Somehow, that does the trick. That lewd Negan charm you thought you were immune to by now soothing you nonetheless.
And yet a part of you want to resist the influence of his smooth talking. Defiantly letting out a soft "hmph" in protest, you playfully push back against Negan's crotch. He responds with a chuckle, his lips touching the back of your head as he quietly orders "Behave".
You let out a soft laugh, finally able to relax as you feel Negan's warm breath against your ear. His presence being the comforting reminder that you yearned for. He's here, you're not alone.
Negan peppers your head with a series of gentle kisses, the tender touch you would have never expected when you first met the man. As you begin to drift back to sleep, you feel the soft press of his lips against your skin, each kiss a silent pledge of protection.
With a final kiss behind your ear, Negan holds you close, sending you off to a peaceful, dreamless slumber.
#twd negan#negan smith#negan smith fanfiction#negan x reader#negan twd#negan x you#negan fanfiction#jeffrey dean morgan x reader#negan x female reader#the walking dead fanfiction#negan#jdm x reader#jdm oneshot#negan imagine#twd x reader#twd fanfiction#twd fic#negan fic
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By Your Name
Part One
Pairing: Wrecker x fem!Reader / Wrecker x Jedi!Reader
Words: 7,998/19,226
Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! fluff, good-natured brotherly teasing, smut, this is mostly just smut actually, unprotected sex, fingering, oral (f receiving), size kink, aftercare, dirty talk, Wrecker being a sweetheart that is a given
Summary: You and Wrecker are still figuring out exactly what your relationship means, and a month apart hasn't helped. Now that you're reunited again, nothing is going to stand in the way of the two of you getting what you want.
A/N: Greetings from horny jail! I didn't proofread this one that much so if you see any mistakes no you didn't.
Previous Work | Next Work | Masterlist
Keeping your relationship with Wrecker a secret is easier said than done. There's no denying the spark between the two of you, and it only seemed to grow stronger in the days following your confession. To you, Wrecker is the sun, and you're a planet caught in his orbit, drawn in by his warmth and light.
It's become increasingly difficult to keep things professional when all you want to do is pull him into a kiss, or spend every waking moment touching him in some way. Every time his fingers brush yours, or his hand finds the small of your back, the desire to kiss him, to hold him, to simply be with him is nearly overwhelming. And it's a feeling that only grows stronger the longer you're away from him.
Saying goodbye to Wrecker at the end of your tour with the Batch had been almost unbearable, and the distance has been agonizing. The weeks apart had dragged on, and the only solace you had was in the late-night calls and the occasional text. The longing had been a constant companion, and it had left you irritable and on edge.
But now, finally, the two of you will be reunited, and the excitement building in your chest is impossible to ignore. Even though it's been weeks since the two of you were last together, it feels like a lifetime, and you can't wait to be near him again. To feel his arms around you, his hands on your skin, his lips on yours.
The two of you had barely had enough time to figure out what exactly you are to each other before you left, and with the others around, there was little else you could do beyond a few stolen moments. But now, after weeks of anticipation and separation, you're finally getting the chance to explore things further.
And you know Wrecker is intent on making the most of the opportunity.
It was no secret that the man is incredibly tactile, and the fact that he'd been unable to touch you the way he wanted to, the way you both needed him to, had clearly taken a toll. His texts had grown progressively bolder, and the calls had lasted well into the night, and you'd spent hours on the comm with him, trying to keep your voice down while he told you everything he planned on doing to you once you were alone.
And now, you're on the same planet, finally, and the thought is enough to drive you crazy. You're already waiting in the hangar bay when the Marauder arrives, and the sight of it, the sight of him, sends a thrill of anticipation through you. The moment the ship touches down, the ramp lowers, and Wrecker comes barreling down, his arms outstretched.
"Hey, General!" he shouts. "Get ready, 'cause I'm gonna—"
You don't wait for him to finish. Instead, you throw yourself into his arms, and he catches you with ease, his arms wrapping around you, lifting you up off the ground. He spins you around, the two of you laughing and grinning like fools, and you're so happy you can barely breathe.
"Miss me?" you ask, breathless, your arms around his neck.
"Kriff, yeah," he says. "Wasn't the same without you."
"It wasn't the same for me, either," you murmur. "I didn't realize how much I would miss having you around."
"Me, neither," he replies.
He sets you down, but his arms stay locked around your waist, holding you close. The urge to kiss him is a physical ache, and the closeness is almost unbearable. But you can't, not here, not now, and so you settle for the feel of his arms around you, his hands stroking your back.
"I'm glad to see you," he says, his voice soft.
"I missed you, too," you reply, smiling up at him.
"I can't wait to show you how much I missed you," he whispers. The look in his eyes, the heat in his voice, sends a rush of desire through you, and you shiver. "Been thinkin' about it every day."
"Have you?"
"Yeah," he breathes. "And I've got a few ideas."
"Oh?" you ask, unable to keep the smile off your face. He's practically radiating energy, the excitement rolling off him in waves, and it's infectious.
Before he can respond, the sound of someone clearing their throat snaps you back to reality. The two of you turn, and you spot the others standing a short distance away at the end of the ramp. Crosshair and Tech look mildly amused, while Hunter looks vaguely uncomfortable, and Echo's expression is one of long-suffering annoyance.
"Uh, Wrecker," Hunter says, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. "You mind putting her down so we can go?"
"What?" Wrecker asks. "Oh. Yeah, yeah. Sorry."
He lets go of you, his hands trailing over your waist as he steps back. You brush your hands across your tunic, trying to quell the butterflies in your stomach, and Wrecker grins down at you.
"Sorry," you say, unable to keep the smile off your face. "It's been a while."
"Just save it for the ship,” Crosshair drawls as he passes by.
"Don’t worry, we will," Wrecker fires back, throwing an entirely unnecessary wink in his direction. Crosshair rolls his eyes, but the corner of his mouth quirks up. Tech follows, shaking his head with a small smile.
"I am glad that the two of you have reconciled your differences," he says, his eyes flicking to yours. "But please keep such displays of affection to a minimum in our presence.”
"Sorry, Tech.”
"We'll behave," Wrecker adds, but his tone is teasing.
"I doubt that," Echo mutters, but his eyes are crinkled at the corners. You flush, but can't help but return the smile. He's not wrong, after all.
"We'll try," you amend, and the others chuckle as they follow Crosshair out of the hangar toward the barracks. You and Wrecker walk a short distance behind them, keeping pace, and the silence is comfortable, the two of you walking shoulder to shoulder. He leans over and nudges your arm, and you glance up at him, catching the grin on his face.
You smile back, unable to hide your excitement, and the look in his eyes is almost enough to make your knees give out. You have no idea how you're going to get through the rest of the day, knowing that he's within arm's reach. Knowing that tonight, when the others have gone to sleep, the two of you will have the ship to yourselves. And the thoughts running through your mind are enough to have you squirming in place, eager for the day to end.
"Welcome back, by the way," you say, trying to ignore the flutter in your stomach.
"Glad to be back," Wrecker says. "And ready to start celebrating."
"Oh, is that what we're doing?" you tease.
"Mhm," he replies, his voice low and rough. "Gonna celebrate the kriff outta you."
You bite back a gasp, and your face heats up. You'd known Wrecker was forward, but the way he talks about wanting you, the way he openly stares at you, is still startling. No one has ever been so open with their feelings before, and while you're still getting used to the idea, it's nice. Reassuring. It's a reminder that this is real, that he wants you, and it's all you can do not to melt on the spot.
"Sounds like a good plan," you reply, your voice hoarse, and you resist the urge to fan yourself.
"Knew you'd see it my way," he says, and the look he gives you is enough to send a jolt of heat straight to your core.
The two of you continue on in comfortable silence, and you can't help but glance at him, taking in the sight of Wrecker finally back by your side. You can't deny that the past few weeks have been...frustrating. Being unable to be near him, or touch him, or even speak openly about how you feel has been agonizing. And the constant teasing and flirting via holo hasn't helped.
There are so many things you've wanted to say, to do, but haven't had the chance. Now, with the privacy and space, the temptation is nearly overwhelming. And the look on Wrecker's face tells you that he's thinking the same thing. You just need to get through the next couple hours without drawing too much attention, and then...
As expected, the celebration is a simple affair, a meal and a round or two of drinks at 79s. You've gotten used to the squad's traditions over the past year, and it's a relief to know that the evening won't drag on for hours. As it is, your patience is wearing thin, and you can tell that Wrecker feels the same.
"So," Hunter starts, his eyes fixed on the two of you. "Did you have a chance to talk about things while we were away?"
"Yeah, a bit," Wrecker says, shifting in his seat. His leg brushes against yours, and the contact sends a jolt of electricity up your spine. "Still workin' things out."
"I see," Hunter says. He takes a sip of his drink, his gaze flicking between the two of you, and he raises an eyebrow. "Just try not to make it too obvious, okay?"
"I'm not making any promises," Wrecker smirks, and the words are directed at his brother, but the way his eyes burn into you is unmistakable. You bite your lip, the heat on your cheeks nearly unbearable. The fact that he's so brazen, so shameless, is doing nothing to help your growing desire, and it's all you can do to keep a straight face.
"Wrecker, please," Echo groans, his eyes squeezed shut.
"Sorry, sorry," Wrecker chuckles, and his hand finds your thigh beneath the table, his fingers squeezing gently. You resist the urge to jump, trying to ignore the warmth of his palm seeping through the fabric of your pants. You can tell he's teasing, testing the boundaries, and the look on his face is almost smug. "I'll behave."
"No, you won't," Tech says, his eyes locked on his datapad. "But I suppose we will simply have to accept that this is your current reality."
"Guess so," Wrecker says, and the smile he gives you is blinding.
The rest of the meal is relatively uneventful, and the conversation is light, mostly centered around the mission, and what's to come. The Republic is preparing for another offensive, and you and the Batch have been assigned to gather intel on a possible Separatist stronghold in the Outer Rim. It's not an ideal mission, but it's better than sitting around doing nothing. And with Wrecker by your side, it will certainly be more bearable.
You listen as the others share stories, laughing and talking like they always do. Wrecker's hand stays on your thigh, his fingers tracing absentminded circles on your leg, and it's enough to keep you distracted, the anticipation growing with every passing minute. By the time the meal is finished, you're all but squirming in your seat, and you're desperate to get out of the crowded room.
"What about you?" Crosshair asks, and the sound of his voice pulls you back to the present. "Did you sit around doing nothing this whole time?"
"No," you reply. "I was training, mostly."
"Boring," Crosshair sneers, but his eyes are soft, and the look he gives you is teasing.
"I did manage to get a new scar, if that counts," you say, pointing to the healing cut above your eyebrow. "Had a run-in with a particularly unpleasant bounty hunter. She was faster than she looked."
"Ooh, lemme see," Wrecker says, and his hand finds your chin, tilting your face up. The gesture is casual, but the way his fingers stroke your cheek is not, and you shiver at the touch. He turns your face, his thumb brushing the healing skin, and the heat of his palm sears into your cheek. "Pretty nasty. You gonna live?"
"I think so," you manage, and his eyes sparkle with amusement.
"Good," he says. "Don't want anything happenin' to that pretty face of yours."
Someone makes a noise of protest, but you're too busy trying not to melt under Wrecker's gaze to notice who it was. His eyes flick over your features, his expression intense, and his fingers trail down the line of your jaw, coming to rest on your shoulder.
"Alright," Hunter cuts in. He slaps his hands on the table and stands, giving the two of you a pointed look. "Let's call it a night."
"But—"
"No buts," he says. "I can't watch this any longer."
Wrecker grumbles something under his breath, but he pulls his hand away, and the absence is nearly enough to make you whine.
"Fine," he huffs, rising from his seat. "See you all tomorrow."
You stand as well, your legs shaking. You're not sure how you're going to make it back to the ship, and the smirk on Wrecker's face tells you that he knows exactly what he's doing.
"Later," Crosshair says, his tone bored.
"Have a good night," Echo calls after you, his voice tight with discomfort. You glance back at him and offer an apologetic shrug, but he just waves you off. Tech is still buried in his datapad, oblivious, and Hunter gives you a long-suffering sigh as the two of you leave.
The walk back to the ship is agony. The sun has long since set, and the streets are dark, but the lights of the city are bright enough that it's not difficult to navigate. Still, the journey feels like an eternity, and every step sends a thrill of anticipation through your veins. You can feel Wrecker's presence behind you, his hand occasionally brushing against your back, his body close enough to touch.
"You're enjoying this, aren't you?" you ask as the two of you round the corner, putting some distance between yourselves and the others.
"Enjoying what?" he asks innocently.
"Teasing me," you reply, elbowing him in the side.
"Maybe a little," he grins, and the heat in his gaze makes you blush. "You know, it's hard not to be when you react like that."
"React like what?
"Like this," he murmurs, his hand sliding down your spine, coming to rest on the curve of your ass. His palm is hot and heavy, and the pressure is enough to make you gasp.
"I can't help it," you mutter, trying to ignore the desire that's pooling in your core.
"I know," he says, and his fingers squeeze, pulling you into his side. "And it's kriffing adorable."
"Shut up," you say, pushing against him. He laughs, the sound low and husky, and the way his eyes gleam in the dim light is more than a little distracting.
"Make me," he says, and his voice is teasing, but there's a note of challenge in it, and the implication sends a shiver down your spine.
You turn to face him, and before you can second guess yourself, you reach out, taking hold of his armor and pulling him towards you.
Wrecker's lips meet yours in a searing kiss, and the force of it knocks the wind out of you. He backs you up against the wall, caging you in with his body, and his hands find your hips, lifting you up onto the tips of your toes. You moan against his mouth, and his tongue slips past your lips, his fingers digging into your flesh. The kiss is bruising, full of heat and want, and the way he moves against you, his body hard and solid, leaves you gasping for air.
He breaks the kiss, and his teeth nip at your lower lip, his hands wandering down, squeezing the swell of your ass. His breath is hot on your skin, his chest heaving, and the desire in his eyes is all-consuming.
"That shut you up," you whisper as his lips move down the column of your throat.
"Mhm," he mumbles. His tongue drags over the delicate skin, and you tilt your head back, giving him better access. "Keep doin' that, and I'll be quiet the rest of the night."
You laugh, the sound turning into a groan as his teeth sink into your flesh, biting down. His hands slide around to your back, pulling you flush against him, and his knee slips between your legs. The pressure against your core is enough to make you moan, and he chuckles against your skin.
"That's a dangerous game you're playing," you whisper, trying to catch your breath.
"Not the only one," he murmurs, his eyes finding yours. The hunger in his gaze makes your blood sing, and you swallow, trying to steady your pulse.
"True," you say, reaching up to cup his cheek. "But I'm not sure we should keep playing it. At least not until we get back to the ship."
He leans in and presses a gentle kiss to your lips, his tongue teasing the seam of your mouth. You open for him, and his hand comes up to cup the back of your head, holding you steady.
"Good point," he whispers as he pulls away, his nose brushing against yours.
"Come on," you say, and you nudge him backwards. Wrecker goes willingly, stumbling back a step, his eyes never leaving yours. "Let's go."
The two of you pick up the pace, and it's not long before you're making your way through the hangar bay towards the Marauder. There are a few people milling about the hangar, and a group of technicians working on a nearby ship, but none of them pay the two of you any attention as you approach the ramp.
The moment the door closes behind you, Wrecker pounces, pinning you against the wall, his mouth finding yours in a hungry kiss. You pull him closer, and he wraps his arms around you, lifting you up with ease. Your legs lock around his waist, and his hands slide down to grip the underside of your thighs, his fingers digging into the sensitive skin.
You break the kiss, your lungs screaming, and he moves down, pressing hot, wet kisses to the line of your throat. His mouth is warm and slick, his tongue leaving a burning trail along your collarbone. His hands find the hem of your shirt, and he pushes the fabric up, exposing your stomach.
"You really gonna keep quiet the rest of the night?" you ask, your voice hoarse.
"Do you want me to?" he murmurs, his nose brushing against the skin beneath your ear.
"Not particularly," you reply.
"Didn't think so," he says, and his teeth scrape against the shell of your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. "You wanna know what I think?"
"What?"
"I think you like it," he growls. His hands slip beneath your shirt, his palms sliding up the curve of your waist. "I think you like it when I tell you how pretty you are, or how much I want you."
"Maybe," you whisper.
"It's okay," he murmurs, his fingers dancing across your skin. "I like it, too."
You moan, the sound soft and needy, and he laughs, the vibrations tickling the sensitive spot below your ear. Wrecker's mouth finds yours again, his tongue plunging past your lips. He tastes like the liquor the two of you were drinking earlier, and the heady mixture is enough to make your head spin.
He breaks the kiss, and the next thing you know, he's carrying you down the hall, his pace hurried. Within a few steps, the two of you are falling onto the bunk, a tangle of limbs.
You land on top of him, straddling his waist, and Wrecker groans, his hands coming to rest on your hips. You grind down against him, the movement sending a rush of heat through your body. The contact is dizzying, and you do it again, relishing the way his eyes flutter closed.
"Kriff, cyare," he breathes.
"I thought I was cyar'ika," you murmur.
"Both. Either. Doesn't matter," he says, his hands slipping beneath the hem of your shirt.
"I think it matters" you say, leaning down and pressing a kiss to his lips.
"You really wanna talk about Mando'a right now?" he asks, and the amusement in his voice makes you laugh. You pull back enough to let him pull the shirt up and over your head, leaving you bare save for your breast band.
"I guess not. I'd rather do something else," you whisper, and Wrecker's eyes darken, his pupils dilating. His gaze trails over your chest, and his hands follow suit, tracing the line of your ribs.
"Me too," he murmurs. His fingers ghost across the band of fabric covering your breasts, teasing the edges. You give a slight nod, and he hooks a finger underneath the material, pulling it up and over your head.
Your breasts bounce free, and his eyes lock on them, his gaze burning. His hands slide up your sides, cupping the swell of flesh, his palms hot and rough.
"Mesh'la," he murmurs. He leans forward, his lips finding the slope of your shoulder. "So kriffing beautiful."
The praise makes you blush, and he kisses his way down the length of your chest, his lips trailing over the curve of your breast. You tilt your head back, closing your eyes as he licks a circle around your nipple, his tongue leaving a hot, wet trail.
"Wrecker," you whimper, and the sound seems to spur him on. His mouth finds your breast, his lips closing around the tight bud, his tongue swirling. You moan, the feeling electric, and he hums in response, his teeth grazing the sensitive flesh.
He sucks and bites at the stiff peak, his fingers rolling the other, and the twin sensations send a rush of heat through your body. It's almost too much, and you can't help but squirm, the desire pooling in your core. Wrecker’s armor presses against your thighs, the pressure almost painful, and the need to feel his skin on yours is overwhelming.
"Take it off," you pant, tugging at the shoulder plates.
"Bossy," he chuckles, and the sound sends a jolt of excitement through you.
"I think you like it," you say, throwing his own words back at him, and the wicked grin he gives you is all the answer you need.
"You're right," he replies. He reaches behind him, unclipping the pieces of his armor and setting them aside. The process is painstakingly slow, and you can't help but pout. But when you try to move his hands out of the way, he lifts you off his lap and sets you down on the mattress.
"Hey!"
"I'm going," he says, a grin on his face. "Don't worry."
Wrecker stands, and the sight of him towering above you, his broad frame blocking out the light, is enough to make you tremble. He strips off the pieces of armor with practiced efficiency, revealing the black undersuit beneath. You stare at him, your eyes roaming over the thickly corded muscles of his arms and chest, the taut fabric stretched across his abdomen.
"See somethin' you like?" he teases, and the sound of his voice draws you back to reality.
"Yes," you say, clearing your throat.
"Yeah?"
"Yes," you repeat with a smile.
"Good," he says. He kneels before you, his fingers finding the hem of your pants. He undoes the button, and you lift your hips, letting him slide the fabric down.
He takes a moment to admire you, his eyes trailing over the curves of your body. He hums in approval, his hand sliding up your leg, his fingers stroking the inside of your thigh.
"Beautiful," he murmurs.
You watch as his hand slips lower, and his thumb finds the edge of your underwear, the touch light and teasing. The sensation is enough to make you gasp, and he does it again, tracing a line along the seam. Your legs part instinctively, and his hand cups the apex of your thighs, his palm pressing against the damp fabric.
"You want more?" he asks, and the huskiness of his voice is enough to make you ache.
"Yes," you breathe.
He pulls the underwear off, and you lie back, spreading your legs, giving him a clear view of the most intimate parts of you. He groans at the sight, his eyes raking over the soft flesh, and his hands grip your knees, pushing them further apart. You feel exposed, but the look on his face is nothing short of reverent, and the desire in his eyes is enough to take your breath away.
"Mesh'la," he whispers, and then his head is between your legs, his tongue finding the sensitive flesh. The contact is electric, and you moan, the sound muffled by your fist. Wrecker chuckles, his eyes locking on yours as his mouth continues its work. His lips and tongue are soft and warm, and his fingers grip your hips, pulling you closer.
"Stars, Wrecker," you whimper, and he hums in response, the vibrations sending a jolt through your body. You gasp, and he smiles, his mouth never leaving the apex of your thighs. His tongue traces circles around the stiff bud, his fingers stroking the delicate skin.
You squirm under his ministrations, the sensation nearly overwhelming, and he holds you steady, his hands like steel. You grip the sheets, trying to ground yourself, but it's a futile effort. Wrecker is relentless, his mouth devouring every inch of flesh, his tongue probing, his teeth scraping, and the heat pooling in your belly threatens to consume you.
"Wrecker, I can't—"
He stops, pulling away with a wet smack. His face is glistening, his eyes burning, and the sight of him is enough to steal the words from your lips.
"Tell me," he growls, his hands tightening on your thighs.
"I can't—"
"Can't what, cyar’ika?" he murmurs, leaning in, his breath warm on the skin of your neck.
"Can't wait," you manage. "Please."
He laughs, his fingers stroking the sensitive flesh of your thighs. He presses a kiss to the side of your neck, and his hand slips between your legs, his fingers finding the apex of your folds. You groan, the contact almost too much to bear, and his fingers tease the edge, sliding along the slick skin.
"I'm gonna take my time with you," he says, his voice rough. "Gonna learn every inch of your body, every place that makes you feel good. And I'm gonna do it until you're a kriffing mess."
The words send a rush of heat through your body, and you can't help but arch into his touch, your hips rising off the bed. He grins, his fingers parting the slick folds, and you bite back a moan as he slides the digits along the length of the slit.
"So wet," he says, and the pride in his voice is obvious. "Mesh'la."
He leans down, his tongue darting out, tracing the same path his fingers had just followed. Wrecker takes his time, his mouth exploring every inch of the exposed flesh. By the time his tongue reaches the sensitive bud, you're trembling, the pleasure almost unbearable. His fingers press against your entrance, and you nod, giving him the go-ahead.
He slips a finger inside, and you clench around him, the feeling almost foreign. It’s been so long since you've done anything like this, and the stretch is unfamiliar, the sensation a strange combination of pleasure and discomfort. He moves slowly, his lips and tongue distracting you from the intrusion, and the discomfort fades, the pressure turning into a delicious fullness.
"You okay?" he asks, looking up at you, his lips still pressed against the apex of your thighs.
"Mhm," you reply, and you roll your hips, letting him know you're ready for more. He grins, and he presses another finger in, his tongue swirling around the stiff bud. The stretch is almost too much, and you gasp, the pleasure making your head spin.
Wrecker moves slowly, his fingers curling, probing, searching for that spot inside you. When he finds it, he rubs the tips against it, and the jolt of pleasure is enough to take your breath away.
"Fuck," you gasp.
"Yeah?" he asks, his eyes glinting with mischief.
"Yes," you whimper.
"More?"
"Yes, please," you beg. "Please."
He complies, his fingers pressing deeper, and you groan, the pleasure almost too much to bear. Your thighs shake, and he hooks his free arm around one of them, pulling you closer, his lips closing around the bud.
It doesn't take long before the heat coiling in your belly becomes too much to bear, and you can't hold back the moans spilling from your lips. Wrecker keeps up the pace, his fingers pumping, his mouth devouring, and it's only a few moments before the tension snaps.
You cry out, the sound swallowed by the bulkhead, and your thighs clamp around his head, trapping him. The air seems to ripple around you, the Force flowing through you, and the room fades, replaced by blinding white light. You're weightless, drifting in the current, the pleasure rippling through your body.
When you finally come down, the room has returned to normal, and the pressure of Wrecker's mouth is nearly too much. You push him away, and he looks up at you, a smirk on his face. His lips are wet and swollen, and his eyes are bright with lust.
"That was somethin' else," he murmurs, his voice hoarse.
"What did I do?" you ask, your voice shaking.
"Not sure," he replies. He presses a kiss to the inside of your thigh, his tongue darting out, licking away the remnants of your climax. "But I liked it."
"Oh," you manage.
"You good?"
"Yeah," you breathe. "Really good. Stars, Wrecker, that was...”
"Just the beginning," he says, his hands finding your waist and flipping you onto your stomach. He pulls you up onto your knees, and the next thing you know, his tongue is on your folds again, the sensation making your legs tremble.
"Wrecker, what—"
"Told you I'd take my time," he murmurs, and his fingers slip inside you again, the pace agonizing. You groan, burying your face in the pillow, trying to muffle the sounds spilling from your lips. His hand slides up your spine, his fingers tangling in your hair, pulling your head back. "I wanna hear you."
"I can't," you whimper.
"I'll stop if you don't," he threatens. "Wanna hear how good I'm makin' you feel."
"Fine," you groan. "Don't stop. Please."
"Good girl," he says, and the words send a rush of heat straight to your core. You feel yourself clamp down around his fingers, and his other hand grips the curve of your ass, squeezing hard. "Fuck, that's hot."
You moan, the sound loud and needy, and he rewards you by sliding another finger inside. The stretch is almost painful, but the pleasure is worth it, and the thought of him inside you, filling you, sends a thrill of excitement through your body. You can't help but push back against him, grinding your hips against his face.
"Look at you," he says, and the awe in his voice is enough to bring tears to your eyes. "Fuck, you're perfect. So fuckin' perfect."
His mouth returns to its work, his tongue licking and sucking and teasing. Your legs tremble, and his arm wraps around your waist, holding you up as his fingers plunge deeper. The pleasure is overwhelming, and the room seems to fade around you, the only thing remaining the feeling of his mouth on your sex.
You can't think, can't breathe, can't do anything except take whatever he gives you. And the thought, the knowledge that you're completely at his mercy, is intoxicating. You surrender to the feeling, allowing yourself to let go, and the release is almost instantaneous.
You cry out, the sound torn from your throat, and the force of it threatens to knock you over. But Wrecker is there, his arms steadying you, his mouth coaxing every last ounce of pleasure from you. When the waves of bliss finally subside, you slump forward, the mattress soft against your cheek.
"Holy shit," you mutter, unable to form a coherent thought.
"Yeah," Wrecker says, his hand stroking the length of your spine. He leans over you, his mouth finding the soft skin behind your ear. His tongue darts out, licking the shell, and his breath is hot on your neck. "Still with me?"
"Barely," you whisper, and the sound of his laugh sends a shiver through you. You roll over slowly to find his face inches from yours, his smile wide and wicked. You reach up, cupping his cheek, and the softness in his eyes is enough to melt your heart.
"Hi," he murmurs.
"Hey."
He leans in, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips. The tenderness is unexpected, and the taste of yourself on his mouth is more arousing than it has any right to be.
"I'm glad we're finally alone," he whispers, his nose brushing against yours. "Was about to explode."
"Mm," you reply. "Well, let's fix that."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah," you say, pushing him back. He sits up, and you move with him, swinging your leg over his waist. He watches you with hungry eyes, and the desire in his expression is enough to stoke the embers of your own. You can feel his cock straining against the fabric of his suit, the thickness hard and insistent, and the realization of just how badly he wants you is almost too much to bear.
You lean in, your mouth finding the side of his neck, and he groans, his hands coming up to rest on your hips. You nip and bite at the exposed flesh as your hands slip underneath the hem of his shirt, and you peel the fabric up, revealing his chest. He lifts his arms, and the two of you work together to pull the garment over his head, tossing it aside.
You run your hands over his broad chest, your fingers tracing the line of his muscles, his scars, his tattoos. The expanse of his skin is a map, a landscape, and you want to explore every inch. He sighs, his eyes closing, and the contentment in his expression is beautiful. You kiss him again, and he groans, his hand reaching up to cup the back of your head.
"I could kiss you forever," he murmurs.
"That would be nice," you reply, your lips moving down his throat.
"Mhm," he hums. "But right now, I really, really wanna fuck you."
The words send a shiver of desire through you, and you pull back, giving him a smirk. You slide back, and his hands move to the closure of his suit, undoing the catches with ease. The fabric parts, revealing the thick shaft beneath. The head is dark and swollen, and a drop of precome glistens at the tip.
"Kriff," you breathe. "You're—"
"Big?" he says, grinning.
You swallow, nodding. You've felt him through his clothes, the evidence of his desire more than clear, but the reality is something else entirely. He's larger than any partner you've ever had, and the thought of taking him, of feeling him inside you, is both terrifying and exhilarating.
"That's putting it mildly."
"We can wait," he offers, his hands finding your hips, his fingers stroking the sensitive skin. "Or take things slow. We don't have to do anything you're not ready for."
"I appreciate that," you say. "But I really, really want this."
"Yeah?"
"Yes."
He smiles, and his hand slips between your thighs, his fingers finding the slick skin. You gasp at the touch, rising up on your knees to pull his blacks down further. His cock springs free, the length curving up against his belly. He helps you pull the rest of the suit off, leaving the two of you bare before each other.
He sits up, his eyes raking over the planes of your body, his gaze hungry and possessive. He pulls you towards him, and you wrap your arms around his shoulders, his mouth finding yours. His hands slide down your spine, cupping the swell of your ass, his fingers digging into the soft flesh.
"You sure about this?" he asks, his lips moving against yours.
"Very," you reply. You reach between the two of you, your fingers wrapping around his length. He groans, his head falling back, and his hips twitch, pushing into your grasp. Your fingers don't quite meet, the thickness impossible to fully encircle, and the size of him is daunting.
"You can change your mind," he says, and the words are choked, strained. "Just say the word."
"I won't," you say. "Trust me."
"Okay," he breathes, and the faith in his voice is enough to take your breath away. He leans back, and you raise yourself up on your knees, positioning him at your entrance. You take a deep breath, and then begin to lower yourself onto him. The head presses against the tight ring of muscle the sensation almost foreign. You press down, and the tip slips inside, the thickness stretching you.
"Shit," he mutters, his fingers gripping your hips. "Fuck, cyar'ika, you're so—"
The words turn into a loud, unrestrained groan as you sink down, taking him inch by inch. It takes time, the fullness overwhelming, but you persevere, the feeling of him inside you more intense than anything you've ever felt. The way his length fills you, stretching and stretching, the slight pain, the ache, the feeling of being whole, it's enough to drive all thoughts from your mind.
By the time Wrecker is nearly fully seated inside you, the both of you are trembling. He's panting, his eyes squeezed shut, his chest rising and falling in rapid breaths. You watch him, the sight of his reaction sending a rush of excitement through your body. It's the first time you've seen him lose control, and the knowledge that it's you, that you're the cause, is exhilarating.
You shift in his lap, grinding down on his cock, and he hisses, his teeth clenched. The pressure against the walls of your cunt is almost too much to bear, and it takes everything you have not to collapse. You lift yourself up slightly, testing the limits, and his grip on your hips tightens.
“Stay still,” he growls, and the command in his voice sends a thrill through you. “Don’t move.”
"Or what?" you ask.
Wrecker opens his eyes, his gaze burning into you. There's a dangerous glint there, and the promise in his expression is almost too much to take. You swallow, unable to look away. He smirks, and his hand comes up, his fingers wrapping around the back of your neck, holding you steady.
"Or I'm gonna have to fuck you into the kriffing mattress," he says, his voice rough. "You think you can handle that?"
"Maybe," you reply, and the confidence in your voice is surprising.
"Really?" he says. He shifts, his hips lifting off the mattress, and the movement pushes him deeper. The stretch is almost too much, but the sensation is exquisite, and the moan that escapes your lips is unabashedly desperate. "Sounds like you can't."
"I'm not convinced," you say, and the words come out more as a whine than a statement. Wrecker laughs, his lips curling into a smug smile. The expression should annoy you, but instead, it only adds to the heat pooling in your core. You like seeing him like this, confident and commanding, and the thought of letting him have his way with you is more than a little arousing.
"You're adorable," he says, and he tilts his head forward, his lips meeting yours in a searing kiss. You wrap your arms around him, and he pulls you closer, his other hand sliding down to the small of your back. The pressure is intoxicating, and you can't help but squirm, trying to find purchase. But he holds you steady, his mouth devouring yours.
He lifts you up, his hands gripping the curve of your ass, and his cock nearly slips out, the sudden emptiness jarring. But before you can complain, he's lowering you back down, sheathing himself inside you again.
"Oh," you whimper.
"Yeah," he murmurs. "You feel so good."
He lifts you again, and his pace is achingly slow, the movement careful, controlled. He's clearly holding back, and the knowledge that he's doing it for your benefit sends a rush of affection through you. You cup his face in your hands, pressing a kiss to his forehead.
"Wrecker," you say. "Please."
"You sure?"
"Yes," you hiss, your head tilting back as he slides home. "Please, I want—"
"Tell me what you want," he growls.
"You," you say, and the confession is more difficult than it should be. "All of you. Hard and fast and— Fuck!"
The breath leaves your lungs as he flips the two of you, his weight pinning you against the mattress. He slides a hand beneath your hips, tilting them up, and his lips find the curve of your neck, his teeth scraping against the sensitive skin.
"Don't say I didn't warn ya," he growls, and then his hips snap, driving him into you. The movement is quick and powerful, and the impact reverberates through your entire body. The thrust is accompanied by a wave of pleasure, the feeling intense and all-consuming, and it takes everything you have to hold on.
"Holy shit," you mutter, your eyes squeezing shut.
"You good?" he murmurs, his hands finding yours, his fingers intertwining with your own.
"So good," you whimper. You wrap your legs around his waist, trying to anchor yourself, but the motion seems to have the opposite effect. The slight shift in position is all the invitation he needs, and he drives into you again, the force enough to push you up the bed. The pleasure is almost blinding, and the room blurs, the edges of your vision darkening.
"More," you beg, the word torn from your throat.
"Anything," he breathes, and then his mouth finds yours, swallowing the moan that spills from your lips. His hips set a relentless rhythm, his cock pounding into you, the friction delicious. You wrap your arms around him, pulling him closer, and his mouth never leaves yours, his tongue plunging past your teeth. The taste of him, the smell of him, it's enough to send you reeling, and the world around you fades, replaced by a single, searing point of pleasure.
You lose yourself in the moment, the feeling of his body pressed against yours, the warmth and strength and power of him. He surrounds you, engulfs you, consumes you, and the intimacy of the act, the connection between the two of you, it's unlike anything you've ever felt. The sensation is overwhelming, and you're powerless to do anything except take whatever he gives you. You let go, surrendering yourself completely, and the feeling is almost euphoric.
"You feel so fuckin' good," Wrecker pants, and the words seem to echo, his voice distant. "Can't believe you're—fuck, cyar'ika, you're perfect."
The praise spurs you on, and the next thing you know, Wrecker is kneeling before you, pulling you towards him. His hands grip your waist, his fingers digging into the sensitive flesh, and his cock plunges deeper. You cry out, the sound echoing around the room, and he groans in response, his movements becoming erratic.
"Fuck," he grunts. His hands slide down, cupping the curve of your ass, and he lifts you off the mattress, impaling you on his cock. The angle is intense, and you can feel the tension coiling in your belly, the pressure threatening to burst.
"I'm close," you gasp, and he nods, his face twisted with pleasure. He's lost control, the steady rhythm giving way to desperate, frantic thrusts, and the knowledge that he's close to coming undone is intoxicating.
"Touch yourself," he manages. "Come on, cyar'ika, wanna feel you come on my cock."
You do as he says, reaching down and sliding your fingers through the wetness between your legs. The contact is enough to push you over the edge, and you come hard, the orgasm tearing through you. The room goes dark, the pleasure nearly blinding, and the air seems to vibrate, the Force surging through you. You can't breathe, can't think, can't do anything except let it wash over you.
You feel yourself clamp down around Wrecker's cock, the walls of your cunt spasming, and he gasps, the sound raw and primal. He thrusts once, twice, and then his hips stutter, and he drives himself deep, the force of his climax making the bed shake. You feel his cock pulse inside you, filling you, and the warmth of his seed sends another wave of pleasure rippling through your body.
It seems to go on forever, the two of you riding out the aftershocks. You're trembling, and tears are spilling down your cheeks, but you can't bring yourself to care. You pull him close, your mouth finding his, and the kiss is sloppy, needy, the two of you too far gone to do anything except cling to each other.
When it's over, Wrecker rolls the two of you over, pulling you into his arms. His chest is rising and falling in rapid breaths, and his heart is pounding, the beat so loud you can hear it. You rest your head on his shoulder, your arm draped across his chest, and he pulls you closer, his nose buried in the top of your head.
"Holy shit," he breathes.
"That good, huh?"
"Good doesn't even cover it," he says. "Stars, that was...fuck, cyar'ika, that was somethin' else."
"I'll take that as a compliment."
"You should," he murmurs. "Fuck."
You laugh, the sound muffled by his skin. He chuckles in response, and his hand strokes your back, his fingers tracing circles on your spine. You sigh, the touch soothing, and you close your eyes, letting the tension leave your body. You're exhausted, and the thought of moving is nearly unbearable. You’re more content than you can remember being in a long, long time.
"Don't fall asleep," he says. "Not yet."
"Too late," you murmur, the words slurred.
"Hey," he says, and his tone is gentle, teasing. "At least let me get a towel or something."
"Fine," you grumble.
He laughs, and the bed shifts as he gets up, the loss of his body heat jarring. You shiver, curling into yourself, and the next thing you know, he's pressing a damp cloth between your legs. The contact is enough to wake you up, and the realization of what's happening is both embarrassing and endearing.
"Wrecker," you say, pushing his hand away. "I can do that."
"Sorry," he mutters. "Should've asked."
"It's okay," you say, and the sincerity in your voice seems to reassure him. "I just don't want you doing all the work."
"I don't mind," he says, leaning down and pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth. "I like takin' care of you."
"And I like taking care of you," you reply. "Which is why I want you to come back to bed."
"Okay, okay," he says, smiling. He tosses the towel aside, and the bed dips as he climbs in next to you, his body pressed flush against yours. The feel of his skin on yours is soothing, and you can't help but melt into his touch. He's solid and warm and real, and the knowledge that he's here, that he wants you, is more comforting than anything else.
"Mesh'la," he whispers.
"Hmm?"
"I love you."
You turn, burying your face in the crook of his neck. His arms wrap around you, his body enveloping yours, and the words come easily.
"I love you, too."
Taglist: @baddest-batchers @covert1ntrovert @stellarbit @bruh-myguy-what @qvnthesia
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#wrecker x reader#tbb wrecker#wrecker#tbb wrecker x reader#wrecker wednesday#the bad batch#clone x reader#the bad batch x reader#the clone wars#roy writes#another one i feel meh about but i do love me some wrecker#particularly of the cocky and feral persuasion
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I hope you know you've given me puppy hybrid Bakugou brain rot, so you get another ask as a repercussion u3u
Whats the scenario or head canon of why we had to start putting a muzzle on hybrid Bakugou when going out? Did he bite, start a fight, did something out of spite? (Yes, that was a purposeful rhyme)
Gimme the tea 🫖
Blue? Wolf? Angel? 01? However you wish to be referred to, I LOVE YOU AND YOUR BIG SMART BRAIN MWA MWA. Also this got long hehehe
Warnings: bratty kid, animalistic Bakugou, wounds, reader passes out
I imagine Katsuki would have to start wearing the muzzle as soon as he left the shelter. In my AU, he was in a fighting ring (original, I know), so he still snaps when he gets frightened or angry. He doesn’t mean to, not in the slightest. But when you have to fight to the death for scraps, or a ratty blanket to keep you warm in a cramped and filthy dog cage, it becomes a nasty habit.
You try to keep it off him as much as possible unless you’re going out. It was a very long process to get him to relax even slightly with you, which was honestly a feat in of itself.
You listen to his body language. He comes to you when he has a problem. If he tenses when you’re petting him, you retract your hand and wait for the signal for you to continue, if any. You leave his food alone, because it’s his. You allow him to nap, knowing the poor creature needs some proper sleep.
It’s easier in the privacy of your own home, in a comforting environment that Bakugou can explore a million times over and never find anything new. In public though, when the screaming child demands to touch his sensitive tail, or when the shih tzu hybrid is sniffing him, it can be so overwhelming for the pup.
“Are you all ready to go, sweet thing?” You smile at your new puppy boy.
Katsuki growled lowly, his collar and leash loose on his neck. The muzzle was wrapped around his lower face, protecting himself from a future lawsuit. He tugged at the metal bars irritatedly. You sigh in empathy.
“I know, sweetpea. I’m afraid that until the padded muzzle comes, it has to be the one provided by the shelter. On the bright side, you can come outside for a walk! It’s a lovely day outside and you can meet the neighbours!” You explain happily.
Katsuki chuffs and rolls his eyes, walking ahead and pulling you on the leash as you squeak in surprise.
“See, I told you it was nice! How’s your collar feeling, honey?” You ask him gently, not wanting to overwhelm him. Katsuki’s pupils were blown with all sorts of new smells and sounds.
He never knew what squirrels sounded like. They scurried in the trees a lot more delicately than the rats in the compound. The screams of children were from fun as their parents chased and played with them. The new pups in the compound were snatched from their mother and sold or… Katsuki shook his head. He didn’t want to think about that place any more.
It was all so bewildering for him, but he seemed to be enjoying it as he threw you a nod.
“Aw I’m so glad!” You laugh softly. You stop near the local convenience store, the thought of a cold ice cream tickling your fancy. You call out to Katsuki to stop as he obeys.
“Do you fancy an ice cream? It’s such a hot day today, and you’ve taken everything in so wonderfully,” you ask him.
Katsuki cocked his head, not knowing what “ice cream” was. He had sometimes heard his old handlers talk about it, but he’d never been able to try any. You felt a pang of guilt at the realisation that he’d never had the sweet treat.
“Let’s go and get you one. I’m sure you’ll like it,” you promise him softly, allowing him to walk in first. He jumped slightly at the little ding-dong of the door, growling at it as you explained what it was.
Despite his grumbling and the occasional bark, he was behaving himself remarkably.
The ice cream freezer was thankfully stocked full to the brim, with flavours of nearly every description.
“Ah, here they are! I hope they have some that’s hybrid friendly. Katsuki, why don’t you come take a look and see what you want to try,” you encourage him. Katsuki froze a little. You were… giving HIM the choice? Was this some sort of trap? Your soft smile made him feel slightly at ease.
Plus, you would never hit him in a store, right?
He takes a look at the flavours in the freezer, entranced by the huge red strawberries and slabs of chocolate. He was about to grab an ice lolly with a motif of a raspberry when a shriek pierces his ears.
His hands slap to his head, covering the fluffy things as he snaps his head at the source. He lets out an automatic growl as his teeth curl back. A small child, not much older than 6 is staring back at him with a delighted look. In his sticky hand held a melting ice lolly.
“Doggy!” He shrieks excitedly, jumping up and down. A woman, whom you presume is his mother, is taking a phone call further down the aisle.
Katsuki pressed further into you when the kid tries touching him with sticky fingers. You immediately stand in front of him, trying to calm the puppy boy down and deal with the kid.
“Hi there sweetie, I’m sorry but Katsuki doesn’t like being touched,” you try to explain carefully, getting on the child’s level. You’re taken aback when the little monster’s face goes red and he lets out an ear-piercing scream that has Katsuki starting to hyperventilate a bit.
“NO! WANT TO PET THE DOGGY! MAMAAAA!” The kid wails, the woman walking to her son. She looks you up and down as she holds her son by the shoulders.
“What seems to be the problem here?” She sneers. You make sure Katsuki has space to cool down as you try to explain.
“Your son here is trying to pet my hybrid, but that is not something that he is comfortable at all with, so I’m trying to explain-” you were cut off by the woman.
“So? The beast is muzzled and leashed, why can’t my angel pet him?” She gave you a dirty look, as if she could look past your puppyboy who looked like he would rather be anywhere else.
“Katsuki is really not comfortable with that. It’s his first time out of the house in a long time and-” you were once again cut off by the woman’s snooty laughter.
“Well if he’s such a ‘rabid beast’ then he shouldn’t be out of the house,” she snarls viciously. You didn’t even notice the kid sneaking behind you until Katsuki lets out a vicious growl, and the sound of 2 screams fill the air.
Katsuki waited for the paramedics to bandage you up as they took you to hospital. They found you bleeding in Katsuki’s arms, his claw marks identical to the ones in your chest.
Turns out the little bastard had snuck behind you and yanked on Katsuki’s leash. Being already wound up and anxious, the sharp leash tug threw him into a frenzy as he instinctively went to claw the threat. You pushed the kid off in time, taking the blow instead.
Katsuki could only stare at you as cotton filled his mouth. His mouth twitched as he started trembling. He had … hurt you…
Your shriek of pain could never leave his head, him not even registering that he had made you bleed until the metallic smell hit his nose. The kid started wailing after being shoved on the floor, the mother picking him up and running away.
You look at him, then at the blood and you try to smile. You swallow, the shock of the pain making it difficult to see.
“D-don’t worry K’s’ki! I do- I don’ blame you,” you start to slur out, the shock and blood loss making you woozy. You slump against your pup, breathing shallow and light. Katsuki whined anxiously, looking for help.
A witness in the same aisle came forward slowly, aware of Katsuki’s hyperventilating and anxious state. He clutched you close to him, sitting on the ground as he trembled and nosed your face. Blood was everywhere, staining everything.
The customer slowly made his way to Katsuki, clicking her tongue softly to get his attention. Katsuki looked wild as he snarled savagely, pulling you tighter. She held her hands up slowly, demonstrating she wasn’t a threat.
“I’m going to call for help. I need to make sure that your owner is okay. I’m going to be super duper careful to make sure I don’t hurt them any more. You can still hold them, I just need to make sure their pulse is still there. Is that okay?” She spoke slowly and calmly, getting emergency services on her phone.
Katsuki snarled, but the claws digging into you relaxed slightly. The customer let a small smile out as she checked your pulse and referred everything back to the emergency services. She was slow and methodical, careful not to move too quickly and scare the trembling pup.
“There we go, all done. I saw everything you know,” she said quietly, kneeling near the two of you. Katsuki whined quietly, chuffing your hair.
“You were scared, and that monster of a boy didn’t listen. There are cameras everywhere, so I’m certain nothing will happen,” she said firmly.
Her hand slowly lifted up, paying close attention to his body language. Her hand slowly found refuge in his hair, slowly petting his ears. Katsuki could feel his heartbeat slow down, just for a moment, before it spiked again at the sound of the siren of the ambulance.
The paramedics filtered through with animal control, surprised to see a muzzled hybrid already collared and leashed holding on to the patient. The lead paramedic slowly approached you, the uniform and sterile smell making Katsuki snarl loudly and pinning you back to him. His eyes were like pin pricks as he held you tight.
“Heyyy, there you go buddy. Is that your owner there?” The paramedic questioned him quietly, bringing the cart to carry you beside her. Katsuki snarled as they got closer.
“I know, I know. It must be scary being in this situation. The lady on the phone told me what happened. You didn’t mean it, did you?” the paramedic prayed her words were getting through to him.
It seemed her prayers were answered when his grip lets loose slightly.
“You were frightened, weren’t you? The kid yanked on your leash? That must have hurt,” she murmured to him, getting more on his level. She was making slow progress to you, getting anxious when she sees the amount of blood lost.
“But now your owner is hurting. Can we take them to get all fixed up? You can ride with us in the ambulance,” she promised, holding her hand out. Katsuki growled, but with a small whine, relinquished his grasp on you.
The paramedic smiled at him, slowly picking you up as she dashed you to the cart, strapping you in as she rushed you to the ambulance outside. Katsuki whined and followed you, desperate to keep your pained face in his vision.
He rode with you the entire way to the hospital, whining when he couldn’t see past the curtain of the emergency room.
The next few hours were hell. He sat next to the curtained room, jumping up when the nurse talks to him.
“You’re very lucky. The wounds were relatively deep, but it was the shock that made them pass out. We stitched up the wound, so now we’re going to monitor your owner in a different room. Would you like to come with?” He asked. Katsuki nodded frantically.
He couldn’t help the whimper when he saw your bed being wheeled out, the bandages reaching a good way across your chest. You were docked into your new room. All Katsuki could do was wait for you to wake up.
Katsuki was a mess. He couldn’t stop whimpering to himself, scared shitless. You were the only person to ever treat him with such kindness, to talk to him like a person and not a dog. You were kind, and gentle, and-
Probably gonna hand him back to the shelter. He knew what that meant though, considering this was his ‘saving grace’. He wouldn’t get any more chances. He tried to toughen himself up, beating his leg in rage as he prepares himself for your rage.
The rage, however, never came. Katsuki must have fallen asleep, since he was awoken by the gentle call of his name. His head snapped up, mixed emotions when he sees your confused orbs.
“What… happened?” You slurred out, sleep still overtaking your system. Your eyes snapped open at the recollection of events.
“Oh god! Are you alright?!” You gasp. Katsuki looked at you dumbfounded. His body trembled. Even when he had hurt you… made you pass out… you still wouldn’t say a bad word against him. Your eyes softened as tears breached his waterline, making his beautiful lashes clump together.
“No no no no, sweet thing! What’s wrong?!” You coo at him, sitting up. He looks pointedly at your chest. You let out an “oh”.
“Katsuki, this wasn’t your fault. That little boy wouldn’t leave you alone, completely ignoring that I said to leave you alone. He still did, despite you being clearly upset and went to yank on your leash! I couldn’t have them take you away from me, so I chose to take the blow instead,” you said firmly, placing a gentle hand on his clenched fist.
“I would do it a million times over for you,” you murmured to him, softly wiping his tears. He flinched slightly, before shakily nuzzling his hand into your palm.
“You’re my good boy, my sweet Katsuki,” you preen, rubbing your thumb across his cheek. His chest rumbles as he slowly ambles into your bed. He makes eye contact with you, something within him trying to force himself to stop. Your warm eyes don’t however, simply shifting along to make room.
He cuddles into you, careful of your wound as he licks your neck gently.
“M-miiiine,” he tried, the word new as it rolled on his tongue. Your head snapped to him, amazed at his first word. Your eyes watered as you pressed a kiss to his head.
“That���s right, puppy. You’re mine.”
@archer-fb had to expand the first word babe 🤭
#🥀 rambles#pretty flower bluewolfangel01 🌷#bnha x reader#bakugou x reader#bakugou#bakugou fluff#bakugou x reader fluff#hybrid bnha#hybrid bnha x reader#wolf hybrid bakugou#wolf hybrid bakugou angst#bakugou x reader angst#bakugou angst#bnha angst
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Can we have bestfriend headcanons for rollo please???? i need to be friends with this guy so bad you don't understand
***Warning: Glorious Masquerade spoilers in the final few headcanons!***
Curiouser and Curiouser...
The best way to sum up this relationship is that Rollo is the mom friend, and you are his child. (If you were to ask Rollo, he would say you're an idiot, but you're his idiot.)
From an outsider's perspective, it's hard to tell that you're friends at all. He always has that hard-to-read face on him, plus those grimaces he gets whenever the slightest annoyance or inconvenience makes itself known.
You've gotten used to his quirks though, so you can read his emotions a lot better than most. When the corners of his mouth twitch, that's him trying to smile! When he taps a finger against his arm? He's thinking hard about something.
He dislikes it when you call him "bestie" (so, of course, you make sure to do it often). Rollo corrects you with his name each and every time.
He finds physical affection just as repulsive. Rollo's constantly shying away from your touch, insisting that it's unhygienic and immodest to even so much as brush shoulders by accident.
There was an incident when you hugged him once and he got oddly quiet, then asked "... What is this?" to which you had casually responded, "Affection."
"Disgusting," Rollo had declared, handkerchief to his nose. "... Do it again."
He's one of those old-fashioned people who insists on keeping in contact via letters and cards instead of text messages, email, and/or social media. Rollo claims that stuff "rots your brain cells" and "promotes a vain, degenerate lifestyle".
You thought it silly and inefficient at first, but over time you've come to appreciate the time and thought that comes with each letter. Receiving a note from Rollo is the best part of your day--you love catching up with him and sending him back updates of your very own.
He's a busy guy and follows a strict schedule, so more often than not you're the one that's following him around as he does his various tasks. You lend him a hand too, though Rollo takes care to not burden you too much. These are his responsibilities, so he should take charge of them.
You occasionally climb up the bell tower with him (the view up there is amazing!) and all the gargoyles clamor to greet you. Rollo has to remind them not to overwhelm the guest.
When there is time, you sit down at a cafe and share a meal. Rollo introduces you to his favorite places and makes recommendations (though he usually gets the exact same thing). You try to push him to vary up his diet a bit more, tearing off pieces of your own lunch or offering him bites of whatever it is you're having (even though he insists he'll have none of that).
One day, you caught Rollo parading through the streets on horseback. He introduced his steed to you, instructing you on how to safely pat it and feed it an apple from your hand. The horse seemed to like you, so Rollo hoisted you up and let you ride it around the city for the rest of the day.
He's still not very good at expressing himself. When you sense that he's feeling down in the dumps, it takes quite a bit of coaxing to get him to talk about it with you (if at all). In his mind, he shouldn't be troubling others with his own matters.
Sometimes you're not successful at convincing him to open up, so you settle for giving a gentle reminder that you'll be there for him no matter what. You wouldn't want to push him to talk when he's not ready to!
... On the other hand, when Rollo wants to talk, he'll rant and rave for what seems like forever. You patiently nod your head and listen to everything he spews out, from his express hatred of a certain lizard to how the local goats almost ate his stationary set.
There are rare times, though, when Rollo shares his passions and ambitions with you. The relaxing gardening he has been doing as of late, how beautiful the Bell of Salvation is today, his plans for the future... It's in these moments that you can truly appreciate how solemn and thoughtful he can be.
Rollo often nags you for little things: there's a crease in your shirt, your room is slightly messy, there's a hair out of place, etc. But hey, it's fine. You know he does it lovingly, even if the comments come with a slight frown.
He also tends to lecture you about your own safety, often warning you to keep away from "suspicious individuals" (and, of course, mages). Rollo lets you know that if anyone gives you trouble, you should inform him right away and he'll come storming over to give them hell. Yes, he's the overprotective friend that will throw himself into the crossfires to defend your honor--
This man comes to hangouts with everything you could possibly need in case of an emergency. Got a scrape? Boom, first aid kit. (He even patches you up personally.) Hands dirty? Hand sanitizer and wet wipes for the rescue. You start calling him “dad” as a joke every time he produces exactly what you need.
Rollo has the tendency to (sternly) speak up for you, especially in cases when you're too meek to speak up for yourself. It has big "EXCUSE ME! They asked for no pickles" energy.
Once a year, you join Rollo for a very special trip. You always stop by the same florist's shop, always watch him select the same bouquet of white lilies, always walk quietly alongside him down to the local cemetery. You don't follow him to the grave, but you let him know he can take as long as he needs with the visit, that you'll wait for him at the gates.
You watch the clouds slowly pass by and the sky change colors from cornflower blue to the shades of sunset. Night has started to trickle in when you hear his approaching footsteps. The flower bouquet is gone, deposited as an offering to a boy that has become one with the stars.
Rollo emerges, and you pretend to not notice the wetness to his eyes, the silvery shine upon his cheeks. You know if you point it out, he'll only become defensive and deny it.
"Ready to go?" you ask every year.
"... Yes," he replies, just the same as always. (Rollo will then try to subtly wipe away at his tears.) "Thank you for accompanying me. I do apologize for imposing on your time."
"Don't," you tell him. "I've always got your back, just like you've always got mine. That's what friends are for, right?"
#twst#twisted wonderland headcanons#twisted wonderland#twst headcanons#Rollo Flamme#Reader#self insert#disney twisted wonderland#Rollo at the Writing Desk#curiouser and curiouser#spoilers
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my man my man my man
pairing: dom!tsu'tey x bimbo!reader
genre: smut, 18+
notes: I wrote this a while ago and posted it here, but took it down again bc I HATED IT. Anyway, here is Tsu’tey having a soft spot for his dear, needy, bimbo mate.
warnings: mature and explicit themes, face sitting , marking, like some begging, overstim, v penetration (tongue), oral (f receiving), light spanking, use of good girl bc i cant get over it.
Tsu’tey was a serious man, renowned for his stoic and cold demeanor. He didn’t budge for anything, his face always wearing the look of a bored man. However, there was but one who could bring out the person in him. You. He usually despised people who could not be left unsupervised, hated the fact that they were so dependent on other na’vi, couldn’t grasp why they couldn’t fend for themselves. But you were his exception, he would do anything for you, everything.
And he did. You were the clan's beauty, but not brains. Not very good at hunting, nor healing, nor collecting. Your job consisted of walking around the forest, looking pretty. And Tsu’tey, unexpectedly, loved it. He couldn’t get enough of your cluelessness, your innocence. His want, no his need to be the one you relied on, counted on, came to when you needed something was overwhelming. It was easily noticable in the way he was so overprotective of you, so set on doing everything for you, all that you asked.
Well, tonight you had stood before him with a single request falling from your plush lips, your blue skin hot and sweaty, indicating that your heat had finally started. Yours and Tsu’tey's relationship hadn’t been going on for very long, you hadn’t even mated yet. Partly because you didn't really know what it was, but also because you hadn’t been in heat since the two of you got together. He had though, multiple times, and each time you had offered to help him so obediently, completely oblivious to how vulgar the actions the two of you indulged in were. So obviously, he was going to help when you stood before him, pretty doe eyes staring up at him, asking him for a simple favor.
Now you hovered over him, not daring to put your full weight on his awaiting mouth. This was new to you, you had never experienced anything like this before. And when Tsu’tey had asked you if you wanted to try, it had taken you a good while to understand what he meant.
Grunting into your soaked cunt, his large hand dealt a smack to your ass. He mumbled into your pussy, sending vibrations through you.
“Sit down, yawne.” His tongue ran over your clit, hands settling on the plush of your hips. He gently pressed you down. You finally sat down on him, though hesitant, but the groan emitting from his chest reassured you.
“That's a good girl.” Now he could finally do what he wanted. He slipped his tongue into your cunt, flat, big nose rubbing your puffy clit with each roll of your hips. It felt good, too good. You swore you had never felt anything better than this. Your mind was hazy, clouded with a feeling you had never experienced before.
You closed your eyes, soft lashes fluttering with each wave of pleasure your lover's tongue sent through you. Tsu’tey watched as your beautiful face contorted in pure bliss, the way your cheeks dusted with pink, the way your canines gently bit into your plump lips. You were so beautiful, so pretty, yet so oblivious.
You sucked in a breath as an unfamiliar feeling began building in your lower stomach, freaking out, you looked down to Tsu’tey. His eyes were already on you, hungrily scanning your entire body. The feeling grew and you subconsciously grinded your hips harder against your lover's eager mouth.
The wet sounds of Tsu’tey’s mouth on your sopping cunt filled your shared hut, forcing a deep purple to settle on your face. A last suck on your clit sent you over the edge, arousal gushing from your cunt. But Tsu’tey didn’t stop, his tongue continued toying with your, now sensitive, bundle of nerves, occasionally lapping up your juices.
“‘Tey plea-” A rough flick to your clit interrupted your sentence. “Please, t’hurts ‘tey” you pleaded, trying to lift yourself off him. But he was stronger than you, and he easily pushed your hips down towards him again. His tongue invaded your insides, ravaged your velvet walls as they spasmed around his wet muscle.
He moaned into you as a series of whimpers and mewls fell from your plush lips. The moan sent a wave of vibrations through your throbbing pussy, ripping another orgasm from your overstimulated body. When Tsu’tey felt your walls flutter around him, he pulled away.
“There you go, yawne, feel better now?” He asked as your body fell limp against his own. You nodded tiredly as he cradled you, praising you and complimenting your good work. Your eyes shut themselves, your tired body soon dozing off in the arms of your soon-to-be mate.
#tsu'tey x reader smut#tsu’tey x reader#tsu’tey fanfic#tsu'tey x female reader#tsu'tey x fem reader#tsutey#tsu’tey te rangloa ateyitan#tsu’tey#tsu'tey x reader#avatar 2009#avatar#tsu'tey fic#tsu'tey avatar#tsu'tey oneshot#avatar james cameron#james cameron avatar#james cameron#pandora avatar#tsu'tey smut
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𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬; best friend!harry x fem!reader
𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲; time apart helps both Harry and Y/N learn more about themselves and their feelings.
𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭; 3.1k
𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬; slight angst? i’m pretty sure that’s it!
𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬; hi hello! here’s the long awaited part two! part one is linked here for anyone who hasn’t read it yet! i hope you all like it <3
- - - -
Heartbreak is always one of the worst pains, but Harry thinks the absence of someone that’s been in your life for as long as you can remember hurts worse. It’s been a week since Y/N said she needed space after confessing her feelings for him and he’s just miserable. He’s not as happy as he normally is, and it seems as if everything reminds him of her. Even the things his girlfriend Liv does reminds him of his best friend, he’s found himself comparing the two.
He doesn’t mean any harm honestly, just sometimes Liv will do something and his mind will go back to how Y/N would do the same thing just differently. For instance, Liv is on her way to bring him some tea in hope it’ll cheer him up at least just a little bit, Harry’s excited to try her tea. It’s one of his favorite drinks if he’s being honest. A knock comes from the door and he tells his roommate that he’ll get it, he’s already standing up and making his way to the door. When he opens it, Liv is standing in front of him sporting a bright smile and happiness.
“Hi, hon. I brought you that tea I was talking about!” She says and he smiles back, a little hesitant but excited nonetheless.
“Thanks, babe. Come on in, I hope you don’t mind that my roommate’s here.” He says and she shakes her head, his mate’s never been a problem with Liz, the one thing he notices is different from Y/N. Liz is more natural hanging around in the boys’ dorm whereas Y/N tended to not want to come over. Something about the smell and how loud the halls are, he doesn’t blame her most of the time though. Liz walks over and makes herself comfortable on the arm rest of the chair Harry was sitting at before, ushering him over excitedly. He chuckles as he makes his way over, reminding him of how Y/N would act whenever she’s excited to show him something.
He sits down and she hands the cup to him, it's warm but not too hot, he’s assuming the walk here helped cool it down. He takes a hesitant sip, he doesn’t want to take too big of a sip just in case he doesn’t like it. It’s good, sweet but still has that leafy taste and it flows nicely. It’s not overwhelming with any of the tastes and it’s just.. good. He smiles as he stares at the cup, his mind wandering back to Y/N. He always enjoyed her tea, she always managed to create the perfect balance and temperature. Y/N makes the perfect tea, will always be better than anyone’s, better than Liz’s.
He shouldn’t be thinking about Y/N right now though, so he blinks twice to clear his head and turns to his girlfriend.
“It’s good, thank you. I appreciate you doing this for me, I know you didn’t have to.” He says and she just laughs.
“I know, I wanted to, H. It’s no big deal really.” She says. He feels bad, ever since he and Y/N stopped talking as much, he’s found himself comparing the way Liz cooks and acts to Y/N.
Y/N likes to wear more cozy clothes unless it’s actually going out, where she feels like she needs to impress someone whereas Liz tends to dress up all the time. She’s always dressed in nice looking clothes and adorned in jewelry and smells nice. He likes that Y/N always felt comfortable with him and didn’t feel the need to impress him, not that he doesn’t like that Liz puts forth all this effort into her looks because he does. Whenever he and Liz go to watch a movie, she normally wants to watch something with romance but occasionally she’ll tell Harry to turn on whatever he wants if she’s coming over for a nap.
Y/N usually put on a comedy movie and sometimes they ended up being a rom-com but they always alternate days so Harry can feel included. He misses that, he misses Y/N. He’s not sure if they’ll ever talk again, he thinks her dramatics are rubbing off on him. He just hates the absence of her, he never realized just how happy she made him feel. She made him feel warm and sometimes he’s got those silly butterflies whenever he looks at her, but he just assumed that was normal for how close of a friendship they had. He never realized just how much time they spent together, how special she was and how different from his other love interests he’s had.
But he’s never considered Y/N as a love interest, she’s always just been his best friend. Sure enough, he did like to flirt with her a little bit whenever he was drunk but that was only because he liked seeing her all flustered. He thought it was cute and it was hard for him to get her like that. Yeah, he loved her but in the same way friends love each other, it’s normal for them to say it before leaving or just because. They’ve always been just friends, the best of friends and that’s how they were supposed to be.
He feels a tap on his shoulder, a soft touch to bring him out of his mind, he’s been doing that almost daily.
“You’re thinking about her again, Haz. Can’t we just hang out without her taking your attention? This is good, it allows you to be your own person now.” Liz says sweetly, genuinely. She tries to be supportive, she really does but there’s just so long you can watch your boyfriend be heartbroken over a girl, especially one he never dated. They haven’t even been dating long, but they had only been dating for a couple of days before Harry told her she had to meet his best friend. Ever since Y/N shut the door on them and he had ushered her back so he could try to talk to his best friend and figure everything out with tears beginning to fill his eyes, it’s just been a repeat of the same days over and over again.
- - - -
When Harry walks the halls, he can’t help but to hope that he’ll be able to see Y/N on her way to class. He admits that it’s weird not walking her to class and being around her, it was their norm for quite a while. A part of him hopes that when he sees her that she’s just as miserable as him but he feels bad about that, he wants her to be happy. He wants to see that she’s doing well and that she’s happy. He always loved to see her happy, it just looked so good on her. So when he sees her sporting a bright smile as she talks with two people he hasn’t seen before, it makes his heart skip a beat and hurt a little at the same time. He’s happy that she’s doing well, he really is, it just hurts that he’s not the cause of the bright smile on her face.
He hopes that she’ll look over here so he can wave, just a small acknowledgment would hold him over he thinks. The halls are crowded and loud, he can’t help but to sigh as he accidentally bumps into someone. She always had this magnetic aura to her, always had his gaze being pulled to her. Ever since she called for a break, she’s all he’s ever been able to think about, the main thing he looks at and for. He wants even the smallest attention from her, it helps the pain in his heart.
He watches as her head turns just the slightest and their eyes meet, a warm feeling enveloping Harry as he smiles and waves at her. She just gives him the same smile she’s always given him, warm, friendly and loving, and waves back. The pain goes away leaving a happy feeling in his chest, he doesn’t feel bad about bumping into students in the hall. He watches as she walks away before making his way to his own class.
- - - -
Y/N doesn’t miss Harry as much as she thought she would. That’s a lie, she misses him terribly but after a couple of days moping and several streams of tears shed, she thinks she’s doing okay. He stays on her mind but she’s able to tune those memories out by doing the activities she likes. She joined some book club on campus and made a couple of friends that enjoy some of the same stuff she does, which is such a relief. While Harry listened and tried his best to participate in things she enjoyed but some stuff he just never got into the way she did.
The past week she’s been attending the book club and talking about the books they’re reading, she’s cut back on some of the stuff she used to do. She dropped out of two of her classes that she did just for fun and stopped volunteering every week to give herself more time to relax. She walks with them to class when she can, and they talk on the phone sometimes. She’s happy for the most part, happier than she thought she would be.
Don’t get her wrong, she still gets upset over the fact that Harry isn’t around all of the time, it’s usually late at night or early in the morning when she misses him the most. She misses him when his favorite song plays and when she sees him in the hallway. She feels bad then, seeing him all heartbroken and moping around. She’s never seen him so down, and she wishes she never said anything to begin with in those moments. She hates the fact that he’s heartbroken over her.
She’s happy for the break, as much time as the two spent together, the break allows her a chance to know who she is outside of Harry. She’s found ways to cope with this ache for him, playing songs he’s never heard before distracts her from thinking of him. Finding new books to read, new shows to watch. Not letting her look at him for too long whenever they pass each other in the halls, hide his clothes (minus the one hoodie she sleeps
in, she can’t bear to part with it because after all it’s not a complete end to the friendship.
She spends a little (a lot) of time telling herself that just being friends is okay, her feelings will go away and they’ll go back to being best friends. She knows they won’t go back to being where they were before she confessed, but hopefully it’ll be somewhat the same as before. She hopes with everything in her that she’ll be able to get over her feelings for him in a reasonable time, and doesn't want to drag this out any longer than what’s needed. She’ll remind herself when she starts thinking of him randomly, when she sees a picture of them in her phone. They always should’ve been best friends, nothing more and nothing less. That’s how the universe wanted them to be.
Everything was fine the way they were, now she has to get over her feelings for him in order to get him back. She sees him everywhere it seems, hard to avoid him even though she doesn’t necessarily want to, in the halls at school or passing by on the sidewalks. She’s nice to him, doesn’t want to make him feel even more upset. She can feel his eyes on her every time, a tingling feeling on the back of her neck before she turns around to face him.
She’s met with the same hurt expression, his eyes full of emotion and telling her how much he misses her. He waves subtly as if he doesn’t think she’ll see it, won’t want to see it but of course she does. She always sees it, how could she not see it when anytime they’re in proximity of each other gems all she’s able to look at. Of course she waves, even gives him a warm smile, one that has and always will be reserved just for him. She still wants to be friendly with him, to keep that door open for the two of them and their friendship.
They don’t really talk other than saying hi as they pass one another in the halls, or if they happen to need to copy notes. They got partnered once after everything, a sense of awkwardness filled the air between them and Y/N hated it. Hated that she felt like she didn’t know what to talk about, didn’t know what limits were with this weird boundary set by her. She feels like she should know, she should’ve known since she was the one who drew the line.
Their conversations were awkward and pointed, pain lingering in their voices as they mentally decided not to talk about anything personal. It’s better that way honestly, it keeps her from breaking and allowing him back when she knows she’s not ready. The wall built between them shows her just how much he’s hurting, shows her how much she hurt him. She never meant to hurt him, she knew breaking it off would cause a toll on him. She never thought it would be as bad as it is, never expected to see the bags forming under his eyes.
She never expected him to be so…torn up about it, to cave in on himself and go quiet. She can feel his eyes on her all of the time, and can see whenever he fights back tears. She watches as Liz tries to cheer him up, hugs him and runs her fingers through his hair. She watches as Liz brings him cups of whatever drink is in them, watches as he thanks her with a smile that doesn’t meet his eyes. She thought that maybe he’d continue partying like he always did, ignore her or something of the sort. He should be giving all of his attention to Liz, not moping on about losing her. His mind just always seems to be elsewhere, his gaze is always sad and unfocused.
- - - -
Two months later the two are doing just fine on their own. Y/N found out from a classmate that’s on Harry’s soccer team that Harry had broken up with Liz about a month ago. They wouldn’t say why they broke up and Y/N wasn’t going to be the one to ask. The two of them have gotten more friendly with one another, there’s no awkwardness whenever they’re paired up and they’ll sometimes sit together at lunch. Y/N thinks she’s able to be his friend again, and doesn't get the intense butterflies in her stomach whenever she looks at him.
She doesn’t want to kiss him as much as she used to, although the urge still comes up whenever she thinks he’s being the cutest boy ever. She decides to bring it up as they sit together during lunch.
“Hey, Harry?” She asks and he hums in response to her.
“I think I’m ready to be your friend again.” She asks and watches as his face lights up. His eyes brighten and a huge smile appears on his face.
“Really?” His voice is full of excitement and she smiles as she nods.
“Yeah, I think so.” He immediately wraps her in a hug and she melts into it.
“I missed you, honey.” He says and she smiles as she responds.
“I missed you too, Haz.” He squeezes her tighter, as if he wants to remember the feeling of her body pressed against his.
“Those three months without you were absolutely horrible. I want to apologize again for leading you on unintentionally, but these three months have shown me something.” He says as he pulls away.
She stares at him confused, he’s already apologized numerous times so she’s not sure what else needs to be said.
“What’s that?” She asks and he smiles.
“I can’t imagine a life without you by my side. I missed you so much and hated not being able to just come over and talk to you. I like you. I’m sorry for not realizing it sooner and I know it’s a terrible time to say it now that you’re back in my life. It’s perfectly okay if you don’t feel the same way anymore, but if you do I’d love to ask you out and take you out properly.” He says and she almost wants to scream.
She spent so much time getting over him and now he just wants to spring his feelings on her now? She thinks the whole situation is absolutely absurd and the two of them have terrible timing of their feelings. She sighs tiredly as she stares at him.
“When did you figure this out, you dummy?” She asks and he shakes his head, as if he’s in disbelief.
“Uh like a month and a half ago, I think? I’m not quite sure when exactly it happened. All I know I spent my whole relationship with Liz comparing her to you and I missed you entirely too much to ever risk losing you again. The whole like high school years up until three months ago, we acted like a couple unknowingly. I know we just labeled it best friends, but normal best friends don’t act like we did. I’m sorry once again,” Harry says as he watches her in hopes he’ll be able to read her.
She just smiles softly at him, her eyes so full of emotions that it’s hard to read which ones are in them.
“You better be glad my feelings for you didn’t go away completely. Yes you can take me out, Harry. It’s okay, I’ve missed you too.” She says and immediately his hands make his way to her face and he slowly begins to move closer. He wants to allow her time to say no, to change her mind but it never comes and he smiles briefly before their lips meet in a soft tender kiss. A kiss so full of love and warmth, making up for all the years missed and tears she cried unknowingly. It fills both of them with happiness as she giggles into the kiss and pulls away.
“Does that mean I can call you my boyfriend now?” She asks and he nods.
“Baby, you can call me anything you want now,” He says and she laughs, a mischievous flickers passes through her eyes.
“Even my best friend?” He immediately shakes his head and laughs.
“Anything but that.”
#harry styles#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles x reader#harry styles imagine#harry edward styles#harry styles fic#harry styles one shot#harry styles fan fic#harry styles au#harry styles fanfic#harry#harrystyles#harry styles oneshot#harry styles angst#harry styles fluff#best friend!harry#my writing
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Jeff the killer general + relationship headcanons
_I did Jeff headcanons before but they were ass, so here’s my second attempt.
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General 🩶
Veeeeery reclusive
He’s thin and agile, even if he’s literally just standing in a room staring at the wall, lost in thought, he’ll hide or slip out of the room when he hears someone coming in easily
He doesn’t even really mean to, but it’s just some instinct that kicks in he doesn’t bother to fight
Doesn’t like people all that much anyways, so he’ll do what he can to avoid everyone
Loneliness isn’t the loveliest feeling though
Occasionally he’ll go find one of the other creeps, awkwardly ask them a simple question
I see a lot of stuff where he’s really loud and obnoxious, also a total jerk, and although I agree, his whole life went to shit pretty early on
So he lacks social skills, he barely knows how to take care of himself, and doesn’t have good emotional control
Of course he has outbursts, he doesn’t know how to make friends, he thinks because he’s so damn amazing everyone who “acts” like they hate him just wants to be him
But it begins to get to him after awhile, never having someone
He is sort of friends with Ben, but it flip flops from fun and easygoing to strained and frustrating
Survives on randomly selected energy drinks, beer and junk food alone
Cannot cook, cannot remember what a warm meal tastes like
Has a lot of energy, so when he can’t find anyone to bother, he goes on walks
Mostly during night to help hide his face, but because of that it’s pretty enjoyable
Wears a mask too so he can grab some food before finding whatever abandoned park he can, sitting on the swing set while he eats
Prefers the colder months
I’m not sure I wanna add he has smile dog as a pet on my version of him… but he is a big dog person. Runs into a stray every now and again and spends maybe a solid hour just petting and talking to it
He kills when he feels overwhelmed, but regrets it from all the guilt after
Sleeps a lot to try and forget about everything
Relationship
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You two probably met in a rather absurd way
Maybe it was the classic you both just murdered someone and found eachother, dripping with a stranger’s blood
Or he walked into your home at random, surprised and intrigued by your lack of fear
(you were just too tired to give a fuck)
He’s real rude at first, calling you names, making fun of basically the way you breathe or walk, trying to poke and prod for a weak point
If you tough it out and keep being kind or neutral towards him, eventually he’ll stop and slide into a weird mood of observing you
It’s like his eyes never leave you for a second, and it gets real creepy
He studies your movements, your face, your words, your mannerisms
You’re still here despite his lack of…maturity at the beginning
Even if it’s a little begrudgingly, you’ve let him stay
It’s weird and he can’t help but question if it’s some scheme to hurt or kill him
But he’ll be damned if he misses the chance to have the first genuine human connection he’s had in years
Kind of follows you like a cat when he can
Like to watch you from his own spot in the room, occasionally piping up to say whatever comes to his mind
And, it would take a bit longer, but eventually he warms up to being more affectionate, rather than the previous friendly coexisting
Doesn’t show it, might even scowl at you for being quote unquote cringe, but adores when you compliment him. About his beauty, his talents, his intelligence, he wants it all
But what he really adores is your touch
Late nights in, watching some show while he lies on top of you
Your nails running up and down his back, occasionally tangling into his hair to twist and brush it makes his heart beat faster than any night when he’s drenched in sweat and blood
He’ll still refuse to show that kind of weakness in front of anyone else, but when it’s just him and you, he’s pathetic for your attention and affection
Likes to hold you from behind, tracing every curve, every scar, every inch of your skin he can reach
Dangerously possessive
You’re the first good thing that’s happened to him in a long while, he cannot stand even the thought of you being ripped away from him
And as I said before, he doesn’t have the greatest control of his feelings
Instead of voicing his fears or concerns, he lashes out at you, especially if he knows you’ve been spending time with someone else
Tries to force you to stay by his side, threatens to harm you if you dare to leave
But once he calms down, he leaves, and your left scratching your head wondering why he had done all of that
He’ll come back when you’re asleep, watching you as he traces shapes onto your arm
He’s so fucking scared you’re gonna realize how truly shitty of a person he is
Wakes you up, wrapping you into a hug as soon as your blearily blink your eyes open
He won’t apologize, he’s still a bit of a narcissist, but you can feel it in the way he clings to you in the darkness of the room
You’ll cuddle him to sleep, and wake up in the morning to him acting like nothing has happened
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_ughhh still don’t rlly like this it is SO messy, but also idc lol. Hope my version of him is enjoyable… might work on nsfw headcanons next, but I’m kind of just going with whatever right now. requests open, and sorry for my previous inactivity (⇀‸↼‶)
#creepypasta x reader#x reader#sorrowrites#creepypasta headcanon#creepypasta headcanons#jeff the killer#jeff the killer x reader#jeff the killer headcanons#i forgot how to tag
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