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nereidprinc3ss · 2 months ago

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belladonna

in which you have to get your tetanus shot, and spencer is there to hold your hand. and… tease you. just a little bit. (bandages universe)

fluff warnings/tags: needles/r has needle phobia, flirty!reader, idiots in love, teasing, not established relationship yet, anxiety, Spencer makes a joke abt his addiction, did I mention IDIOTS IN LOVE a/n: works as a standalone, as do all the bandages fics I believe. anyway hope u like! <3

“Spencer, I don’t think I can do this.”

He sets down his shoddy hospital coffee and grabs your knee to stop your leg from its rapid bouncing, exerting a gentle pressure when you don’t immediately comply.

“Yes, you can. Just breathe, okay? Try to relax. It’s much harder for your brain to remain in fight-or-flight if your body is relaxed.”

“No, it’s—I feel like I can’t breathe right now,” you say, chest constricted in a vice of panic. “I think my heart is beating too fast, I—”

Footsteps approach from the hallway and your head snaps up, cold dread filling every vein in your body—but they continue past your door.

“Oh my god, I’m losing it. I’m going to die here,” you rave, digging the heels of your palms into your eyes. The gauze wrapped around your hand presses against your brow and beneath it a cut throbs dully—a cruel reminder of what it is that you’re doing here in the first place.

Spencer gives up on trying to make you stop bouncing your leg, and instead the hand travels to your jaw to find your pulse. His fingers feel cool against your warmed skin, accentuating the constant thrum of your heart. You watch his face anxiously as fifteen seconds go by.

“Your pulse is pretty high,” he admits gravely, returning his hands to his pockets. Your brow knits at his sudden solemnity as you look up at him. “I’m not a medical doctor, but… we might have to take you to the hospital.”

Any trace of worry withers from your face. “Truly hilarious.”

The corner of his mouth turns up a little.

“See? You’re calm enough to make a sarcastic joke at my expense. If you were actually going to die I doubt you would be able to do that.”

“Wanna make a bet?” you snap.

“Definitely not,” he smiles, warm eyes alight and not at all fazed by your attitude. “You’re the last person I’d bet against.”

“Ha,” you say bitterly, eyes darting to the door again. “In that case I might just take my chances with tetanus.”

“I just watched you slice your hand open on a rusty fence, take down a man twice your size, and get ten stitches without flinching. Needles should be afraid of you.”

At least now your face is warming from the compliment and not the anxiety.

“It’s... different. Like, stitches and shots. Shots really fucking freak me out. I don’t know if you could tell. I’m sure I seem really chill about it.”

He nods sagely. “Trypanophobia. It’s among the most common phobias in the world, next to Arachniphobia, Ophidiophobia, Acrophobia, Aerophobia. You have Astraphobia, too, don’t you? Fear of storms?”

“Spencer.”

“I also used to struggle with needles, actually.”

You look back at him, suddenly curious.

“Used to?”

“Yeah, but I pretty much got over it when I got all the vaccines for my clearance at the Academy. Becoming addicted to intravenous drugs helped, too, but I wouldn’t recommend it,” he muses, examining the art on the wall behind you and taking a sip of his coffee.

At that exact moment, the door opens and a very professional, very exhausted-looking nurse hurries in. You hardly even register her because you’re staring at Spencer, trying to figure out if you just heard him right. He’s looking right back at you over the rim of his cup, eyes dancing with what looks like suppressed mirth.

The nurse says something, and you bless her with an ‘uh-huh’, unable to take your eyes off of Spencer.

“I must be hallucinating,” you say.

“What? You’re the only one allowed to make off-color jokes at inappropriate times?”

“I didn’t even know you could make a regular joke, honestly.”

“You ready, dear?” says the nurse, swabbing your upper arm with an alcohol wipe.

“Ah! Spencer!” You yelp, thrusting out your hand for him to take. He quickly sets the cup back down on the window sill and takes your outstretched hand, stepping closer.

“Relax,” he laughs upon seeing how your shoulders have risen to meet your ears. “Don’t look over there. Look at me.” Gently he brushes a loose strand of your hair behind your shoulder, redirecting your focus toward him. At this point you’ve gone catatonic anyway, so you don’t resist, although it doesn’t seem to matter much because you’re basically blacking out. “Literally relax your arm. I'm serious. It will hurt less.”

“Small pinch, darlin’,” the nurse says, and you clench your jaw so hard you’re afraid you might break a tooth, and maybe some tetanus-induced lockjaw wouldn’t actually be so bad, and she’s touching your arm now, and who made that extremely undignified squeaking noise, and— “And you’re done.”

You frown.

“I’m done?”

“You’re done,” the nurse repeats. Logically she has no reason to lie to you about this, but you look over to check anyway because there’s simply no way you’re done just like that. Sure enough, she’s smoothing a band-aid over your shoulder and pulling your sleeve back into place.

You look back at Spencer as if searching for a second opinion, utterly baffled. He carefully frees his poor hand of your bone crushing grip and grabs your discarded FBI jacket from the chair, handing it to you.

“That’s it?” you say, taking the jacket and absent-mindedly folding it on your lap.

“That’s it. You did it.”

“Really? That’s all? I feel like it can’t be that easy. I don’t even think I felt anything,” you ramble, rolling your shoulder around, and finding just a bit of soreness.

“You were so brave,” he nods, stepping closer to wipe something warm and wet away from under your eyes. “Americans can rest easy knowing they’ve got someone like you in the FBI.”

“Shut up. Am I crying?”

He laughs, and the twinkly sound fills you with even more joy than normal. Everything seems a little brighter, a little warmer—probably another adrenaline rush or a result of your brain releasing a trace amount of opioids in response to the pain.

“Just a little bit.”

“You two are FBI?” The nurse says, like she can’t quite believe it.

Before you can tell her that you don’t very much like her tone, Spencer nods.

“Behavioral analysis unit.”

“Oh! You guys catch all those serial killers?”

He nods politely, giving her a flat smile. “That’s the goal, yes.”

“Wow. There’s a meet-cute to tell your children.”

You snort and immediately clap your good hand to your mouth, looking up at Spencer to see how he’ll react. Of course he’s already red and stammering.

“Oh, no—I—maybe I misled you, we’re not, uh… we’re not together. Not like that. We are partners in the, in the sense of our job, not—we’re not romantically involved. Just—co-workers. Friends. We’re, I’d say we’re good friends. I mean, she’s great. She’s very nice, and, well—maybe nice isn’t exactly the right word, but she’s, you know—”

“Spencer,” you interrupt.

“You ready to go?” he says immediately, looking very grateful that someone finally cut him off. Works like a charm, every time.

You stand, and to your surprise, wobble a bit on your feet. Spencer steadies you with a hand to your waist. “Woah,” you mutter, trying not to look too disoriented.

“You need to eat,” he says. “With how anxious you’ve been you probably completely burned through whatever calories were in your system. It’s a parasympathetic nervous system response to adrenaline.”

“I know what it is.” You grab his hand and turn to the nurse, who is looking at the two of you with a bemused, slightly clinical interest. “Um... thanks? Right?”

“Okay,” Spencer says. “We’re leaving now. Come on. Go.”

As he’s herding you out the door, you keep trying to look at him over your shoulder. “Is it weird that I kind of liked it? Does that, like… point to something?”

“Never repeat that,” Spencer says, shaking his head, but you can hear the strain of a hidden smile in his voice.

You smile up at him as the two of you walk down the empty hallway, swinging his hand in yours.

“She thought we were together,” you say, and it’s almost a gloat, though Spencer can’t quite wrap his mind around what that might mean. Instead, he relishes the weight of your hand in his. He doesn’t exactly remember when that became commonplace, but he never takes it for granted. He can’t help the smirk across his face which always lets you know he’s going to say something snarky.

“She just doesn’t understand that you need constant attention or you’ll die.”

Luckily, you’re used to each other. Quips are just one prevalent dialect in your vast love language.

“Yup. I’m a delicate, rare flower.”

Spencer scoffs lightly.

“Yeah. Like deadly nightshade. Or water hemlock.”

“Those ones are pretty, right?”

He squeezes your hand. Imagines telling you that he’s in love with you and has been for a very long time.

Instead, he thinks about dinner.

“Gorgeous. Where do you want to eat, Belladonna?”

for more of these two, check out the bandages universe masterlist!

#spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid fluff

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okwonyo · 5 months ago

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GENTLE MONSTER, 或 𓈒𓈒 seeing you in glasses.

𝒾 ⠀⦂ ⠀ 엔하이픈 ୨୧ f ╱ r! 8OO fluff established relationship ── jake being very dramatic.. kissing skinship ⠀ ｡｡ ⠀ ( 𝑜𝑜𝑒𝑢𝑣𝑟𝑒𝑠 )

지아 ⠀⦂ ⠀this is shorter than my other reactions but the love is still there ^^ enjoy, my loves 🍀

rblgs♥︎fdbcks & C𝑙𝑖CK

HEESEUNG

from the moment you put your glasses on, most of the things you say would fall into deaf ears.

would gawk at you, full adoration shining in his eyes, mouth falling agape the more he looks at you. it would be like you keep on getting more and more beautiful as the second passes.

“why are you looking at me like that?” you would ask him as he steps closer to you.

in lieu of an answer, would cup your face in a gentle motion. your eyebrow would shoot up as you watch his face get dangerously closer to yours.

his lips would delicately and swiftly rest on your cheeks, then nose and all over your face and over, “never take these off,” he would say and you would only hum.

JAY

would be hit with the whiplash of your visual when you open the door of your apartment in a rush after he knocked a few times.

like a scene from the most beautiful romance drama out there, the sudden opening of your door would create a wave of wind, your hair would fly along it just as his. your chests would heave: because you would have run to the door and because you would take his breath away.

“wow,” he would state, breathless.

you would smile sheepishly, “hi,” and from the moment he puts his hands on you, there is no way he would let you slip away from his grasp— for the sake of looking at you properly.

JAKE

surprisingly, would go silent for a hot minute. his eyes would be blank as if there was nothing behind them. except the sound of his heart beating louder and louder in his chest echoing in his whole being.

stepping toward him, you would start to question if he is even breathing at some point. your hand would rest on his shoulder softly, which would make his heart explode, “are you okay?”

and this guy would fall all the ways to his knees. his cheek would be pressed to your stomach as he would hold you— his palms would cling to your back— “oh my god,” he would mumble.

the vibrations of your giggles would almost make him tear up because: he made a beautiful girl laugh. “you are such an idiot,”

(and he would smile, with a face like that, you can call him anything you want.)

SUNGHOON

it would just start as a harmless gesture.

you would see your boyfriend wearing glasses once again. one of his new habits you would never complain about (look at him, seriously!).

naturally, you would want to try this new style as well, starting by taking the glasses off his face directly. he would watch you in a daze with his mouth slowly open and his hair following the movement of the glasses leaving them.

would have to close his eyes and take a deep breath when you put them on. not only are you wearing something that is his but it being glasses that make you look this beautiful? he would try to contain as much as he want, he would end up kissing you anyway.

SUNOO

would not be prepared for the impact it would have on him when he told you to try wearing glasses.

a soft pink shade would appear on the surface of his face whenever you make eye contact— the said shade would proceed to get darker and darker.

would wrap his arms around you and hide his face in the crook of your neck. his giggles would tickle you and his breathe would be warm on your skin as he talks, “i really give good ideas,”

then, would admire you, with his chin on your shoulder and his hand holding yours sweetly. he would not leave you alone for the rest of the day.

JUNGWON

there would be no shame in the way he would look at you.

his eyebrows would shoot up slightly, charming and attractive. his eyes would narrow a bit while his gaze drags all over your face, teeth sinking into his lower lips gently and feet walking toward you.

would hold your waist, caughting you off of the card and cutting you off. against our lips, he would whisper, “you are very pretty, y’know?”

the blush on your cheeks would make him think that you are even cuter. “shut up,” you would say and push him away with no strength or any willpower.

RIKI

this would be terribly unfair.

how can you expect him to focus on studying and fighting his instincts when you sit right in front of him wearing glasses, looking very much kissable, being very much gorgeous.

would not really realize that he would be staring at you with his head in head, hearts in his eyes and a bunch of others floating all around him— would really be daydreaming about someone who is sitting at an arm length.

you would explain the mathematics exercise to him but the only thing he would hear would be : ‘blabla algebra, numbers and stuff’ while visualizing you flipping your hair and giggling.

ㅤㅤ𓈒ㅤㅤ𓈒 taglist open.

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toxicanonymity · 11 months ago

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The Spread

PAIR: Thomas Hewitt x f!Reader

WORD COUNT: 3.5k | SERIES | MAIN MASTERLIST

SUMMARY: You hide and don't get slaughtered. Tommy secretly keeps you. He's kinda sweet if you're good.

WARNINGS: I8+ Canon-typical violence (implied) & setting, captivity, dark caretaking, manhandling, sleeper hold, oral f receiving, noncon unsafe piv, finger gagging, dark fluff, tommy has a praise kink, stockholm syndrome vibes. NO human skin mask: leather partial mask shown in photo. He is feral and naive due to his family. No use of Y/N. Divider by gasolinerainbowpuddles.

SIZE KINK - Reader is much smaller than Leatherface, can be carried and maneuvered. He is 6’5”, thicc and STRONG.

You barely escaped the so-called law man, and your friends weren’t so lucky. They got chased right into the lair of a chainsaw-wielding giant.

“C’mon, Tommy,” the Sheriff encouraged the giant, “Just like the slaughterhouse.”

Heavy chains thrashed, and one of your friends groaned.

“Attaboy,” the Sheriff praised.

While they were distracted, you ducked into a nearby woodshed. You didn't dare go far – you had encountered too many hazards on the property to trust your footing, and couldn't risk calling attention. Instead, you sat there in the shed, paralyzed, listening to your friends get butchered. One by one, their squeals turned animalistic until a wet thwack or rev of a motor cut them off.

Finally, there were no more screams.

Huddled in a corner of the woodshed, you tried to keep your wits about you. The shed was about the size of a small dorm room. There were stacks of wood all around–some freshly cut, some rotted–and hay covered the floor.

You were in a tank top and Daisy dukes with cowboy boots that made you feel like an idiot. You had sap on your knees from crawling over the wood. Taking deep breaths did nothing but fill your nose with cedar - it was only a matter of time before you’d meet your fate. You picked splinters out of your hands as you replayed the chase in your mind. You began to feel sure “Tommy” had seen you run into the shed. If that was the case, you didn't know why he let you go. You could only guess he already had his hands full.

“Think we got’em all, son?” The Sheriff asked.

Tommy grunted.

“That’s my boy,” the Sheriff concluded.

The door frame would’ve been tall enough for most men, but Tommy had to duck on his way in. He carried an ax. Each step he took shook the entire structure. His breathing was loud, his mouth hanging open below the leather that covered his nose. The partial mask didn't cover his mouth. It was fastened with two straps behind his head nestled in thick, chestnut hair that came down around his shoulders.

Dusk was approaching. Not long after the Sheriff left, heavy footsteps crunched louder and louder toward the woodshed. Your heart pounded harder with each step.

The rickety door busted open with a plume of dust. Tommy’s silhouette consumed almost all the daylight that remained.

He approached you cautiously and paused when he was an arm’s length away. You whimpered, knees held to your chest. He sniffed around like an animal. Then he brushed a stray section of hair out of his eyes, and you saw a glint of uncertainty in his gaze. You tried to compose yourself, wondering if your fear could trigger him.

He knelt down to get a better look at you. He reached for you, and you jumped. He grumbled and held up a massive finger less than an inch from your mouth, telling you to be quiet.

Something possessed you to reach for his hand. He let you move it.

You put his palm on your cheek and watched his chest heave in confusion.

He tilted his head and stayed crouched there for a moment, staring at you with his brown eyes softening above the leather.

“Attaboy,” you whispered, repurposing the Sheriff’s words.

Tommy huffed, then abruptly stood. He left the shed, ax slung over his shoulder. He ducked again on his way out.

He didn't return for a while. You finally dared to open the door just enough to look out, but not for long, startled by an older woman’s voice calling, “Tommy!!! Time for supper.” You shrunk back into your corner, afraid you had been spotted.

You sat there frozen, afraid to run.

Sometime later, you heard a squeaky wheel approach the shed. The door opened more quietly than it had the first time. The hulking silhouette was backlit by a buzzing floodlight in the yard. The man seemed to be more careful and quiet this time. He had brought a few blankets. One of them was tattered, pale yellow bordering what used to be white, and it had Care Bears on it. He put the blanket over your body, coming all the way up to your neck, and patted your head. Then he took a bundle of newspaper out from under his arm and handed it to you like an offering. It smelled like barbecue.

As he turned to leave, you whispered, “Tommy.”

He dropped his head and looked back.

“Thank you,” you said.

Looking at the wall, Tommy offered a short nod before leaving. Then he locked the door from the outside.

After he left, you opened the newspaper. It was too dark to see, but the contents felt like a charred bone with bits of flesh hanging to it. You weren't hungry anyway.

You wrapped yourself tight in the blanket, and to your discomfort, your heart fluttered at the man’s softness with you. You replayed the day’s harrowing events in your mind’s eye and saw him differently than you had at first. Maybe he was nothing but an attack dog. You began to doubt he would've hurt your friends at all if not for the older, more wicked man in uniform.

Maybe Tommy was as much of a prisoner as you were. You wondered if he could talk. You felt sure he could listen.

After sunrise, you awoke to some commotion and heard a vehicle drive away. After a period of silence, you tried to open the door to the shed, but it was securely locked.

Soon, Tommy came back and unlocked it. He moved swiftly toward you with purpose in each heavy step, crouching slightly. The mass of his body strained his shirt. You'd never seen forearms like his. He could surely snap you like a twig, but something told you he wouldn't. Still, your heart raced when he lunged toward you. He reached over a wood pile and used both massive hands to force you onto your feet. He wrapped you in the blanket, then put you over his shoulder like a potato sack.

He put you into his wheelbarrow, then nestled some firewood around you. He looked around furtively as he did it. Then he covered you with another blanket and wheeled you across the bumpy ground, onto a smoother surface. He rolled a garage door down behind you and left you covered in the wheelbarrow as he rummaged around the garage.

You peeked out from the blanket and saw him placing shackles on a table. Your heart raced. You glanced behind you. The garage door was still lifted by a small margin. Maybe big enough to fit through.

You watched in terror as he brought out a mallet. Finally, your body unfroze.

You lowered yourself out of the wheelbarrow as carefully and quietly as you could and crawled toward the narrow opening. As you began to wriggle under it, your ass hit the door, making a noise far too loud to go unnoticed.

Within a split second, his massive hands were firm around your ankles, pulling you toward him, dragging you roughly across the concrete.

He manhandled you like a doll. He forced you onto your back and shook you, then wrapped a massive hand around your neck. Your life flashed before your eyes, and you kicked him. He grunted and grabbed you roughly by the shirt, then sat back on his knees. He held you with your back against his enormous thigh. Your Daisy dukes did nothing to protect your ass from the cold concrete. You thrashed, and he put the crook of his elbow around your neck, then everything faded.

When you woke up, you were chained to the table, with cold, metal shackles on your wrists and one ankle. You were bottomless, and the air was cool between your legs. Your feet were bare. All you had left was your tank top, which you wore without a bra.

You didn't dare move. A foul dust in the air made you sneeze, then Tommy came into view. He was wearing a butcher’s apron, and the sleeves of his dingy, button-up shirt were rolled up to expose those big, hairy forearms. He held the mallet. His eyes were industrious.

“Please don't hurt me,” you begged.

He laid a heavy hand on your shin, and you flinched. He gently placed your free ankle in a shackle, then nailed it shut.

“Please,” you begged.

He laid a hand on your thigh and looked you in the eyes.

“What are you going to do to me?” You asked.

He huffed and put the mallet away.

You were relieved until he returned with a meat cleaver. You tensed and squirmed. He laid a hand on your stomach and his searing eyes told you to stay still. He slid the cleaver under your tank top, and you held your breath and looked at the ceiling. Your nipples hardened at the feeling of his knuckles between your breasts.

He violently sliced upward through the fabric, turning your wifebeater into a vest which burst open, freeing your breasts. He inhaled sharply at the sight and discarded the meat cleaver with a metallic clatter on a nearby shelf.

“Please,” you begged again, then he stuck his fingers in your mouth and peered in. His thick digits tasted like charcoal and salt. Three fingers were enough to stuff the orifice completely. When you stopped whining, he abandoned your mouth.

He cupped a breast, then cupped both of them. He hummed a curious “mm,” Then dragged his thumb down your sternum before stepping away to survey your body.

You felt like a cadaver sliced open for examination. As he slowly stalked around the table, it dawned on you that's what he was doing. He was studying you.

He stopped at a long side of the table – your left side. He brought his face–his leather mask–to your skin, just below your ribs. His hair fell onto your body, and the light brush of it tickled. He paused to loosen the strap at the back of his head. Then he dipped his face to your abdomen again. He turned his head and dragged his cheek, and the leather, over your bare stomach, to your breast. You could hear him desperately sniffing and wondered why he didn't take that thing off.

Lips, hair, and smooth leather dragged across your skin as he wiped his face along your chest. Then his face made its way into your armpit, where a dart of his tongue made you flinch and shiver. His tongue darted out again. He sucked the delicate skin slightly into his mouth before releasing it with a soft grunt.

He paused and pulled away. He pivoted to stand behind your head, then brought his hands to your breasts. Helowered his mouth to your neck and licked you. His hair fell on your nose and smelled like smoke and metal.

He seemed to savor the taste of your skin. He licked longer, harder, the strong slippery muscle of his tongue nudging your jugular. You felt a rush of arousal and shame. He tasted the other side of your neck and hummed in satisfaction. The throbbing between your legs made you wince.

He dragged his tongue down over your chest to lap at your breast. He flattened his tongue to lick your nipple, then began to suckle at it. One thing was clear - this was not for your enjoyment. He was entirely absorbed in what he was doing. He didn't even glance at your face. Whether it was for his pleasure or curiosity, you couldn't be sure. He moaned into your nipple and you knew you must have been gushing onto the table.

After a few seconds, he pulled away from your tit and began to sniff the air. He stalked around the table some more and paused at your shackled feet, staring up between your spread legs. He found the source. His hands dwarfed your thighs as he pushed them further apart. Then he dabbed a thick finger, only grazing your folds as he picked up just a taste of you from the table and brought it to his mouth.

“Mm,” he hummed quietly, staring between your legs. He licked his finger again and his eyes searched the air curiously. Then he grabbed your upper thighs and anchored his thumbs on your outer lips, spreading you open. His heavy gut rested on the table between your feet as he leaned forward. As he lowered his mouth to your cunt, you twitched and felt another rush of shame.

His breath was hot on your cunt, then he dipped his tongue, and you tensed.

He lapped at your entrance, and the physical pleasure made you exhale and relax, while your fear remained. He licked and sucked, and your moan echoed before you could try to cut it short. Your chest was hot with embarrassment, but if he heard the sound, he ignored it.

He fed on your juices like a starved animal. He sucked and slurped, and dug his lips and tongue in, searching for more. The squelching and gurgling sounds were obscene between your legs. He closed his eyes and dug his fingers into your hips as he feasted.

The leather mask nudged your clit and made your hips lift into his mouth. He brought a hand to your lower belly to hold you still. Then his tongue plunged into you. You whispered, “good boy,” and your whole body felt weak with shame.

He paused and glanced up, then repeated the action. It was true, some part of you welcomed this, as afraid as you were. In any case, the heat and pressure building in your gut would have to release at some point.

He fucked you with his tongue, nudging your clit with the smooth leather, and you had to remind yourself to breathe. You'd never been eaten so voraciously. He moaned into your cunt and the tension was too much to hold. You whimpered as you began to pulse and twitch. His tongue paused as you clenched around it. Then he continued. Your back arched as he sucked it all out of you, swallowing every drop he could find. As your climax waned, you took slow, deep breaths.

Finally, he slowed down. He looked flustered for a moment, then his hand disappeared from your thigh. He pulled his face away, and the leather mask was soaked and shiny. Then he took his apron off. When he stood to put the apron aside, the protrusion in his pants made your breath hitch and your asshole flutter.

Your cunt spasmed once around nothing, and your insides churned as though making room for a massive guest.

You couldn't peel your eyes away. He adjusted himself, then palmed the bulge. His shirt had come untucked. The bottom button wasn't fastened, and his midsection strained the other buttons as his whole torso heaved. He eyed the mess between your legs as he palmed himself.

He seemed to be considering the possibility of stuffing your cunt with whatever monstrosity hid in his pants. He could take anything he wanted, but he didn't look proud of it. This didn't feel like something he did every day.

You decided not to fight back. You told yourself it was for survival, but you also twitched at the thought of him wrecking you. You looked at his crotch, then down between your legs, still gushing at the sight of him barely contained by his pants. The way his whole body wanted to bust out of his clothes made you weak in the knees. He was so solid and strong. You looked again from his crotch to your own, as though your eyes were instructing where to put it in defiance of your better judgment.

He grumbled as he picked up a hammer and approached you, making your heart nearly stop.

He pried the nails out of the shackles, and you cursed yourself for the way your heart fell. Your disappointment was quickly replaced by relief. A man this size, with these capabilities – he could have done serious damage to your body.

“Thank you,” you whispered. You laid on the table patiently looking at the ceiling as he went down to your feet and unshackled your ankles.

Then he grabbed you by the thighs and yanked you toward the end of the table, making you yelp. Your naked crotch came to rest flush against the bulge in his pants, making you ache with arousal. Your thighs trembled in fear.

You looked down toward him and he forced your chin upward, making you look at the ceiling. You pinched your eyes shut. You were at war with your body’s desire. He might kill you. He might actually split you in two. The dying squeals of your friends echoed in your mind. But his hardness swelled against you, and oh, fuck.

His hips backed up and you twitched at the loss of his warm package against you.

With your eyes still pinched shut, you heard his clothes jostling, then he spread your lips apart while he notched his tip against you. It was too big. He held your thighs again and pulled you toward him with a forward thrust and a grunt.

Being impaled with his cock felt like being split open. The girth burned as it stretched you, and you whimpered as your body tried to accommodate him. He stayed inside, and he sighed. You'd never felt so stuffed. He leaned forward, and the contact with your clit provided some relief as your body spread itself more. But still, your heart raced at the prospect of him moving. You prayed he would be gentle.

When you didn't stop whimpering, he stuck his fat, smokey fingers in your mouth again. He placed his other hand on your chest to hold you still, with the crook of his thumb close to your throat. You gagged on his fingers and he removed them. He wiped your saliva onto your nipple before kneading your breast.

Thankfully, you were wet and getting wetter. He held you down and slammed into you. The fullness pushed your thoughts out of the way along with your guts. You kept your eyes shut as he speared into you again.

His breathing and grunting seemed to echo through the room with every snap of his hips. His unholy girth twitched against your walls. He grabbed onto your hips and brutally pounded you. He used you like a sleeve until his moans were drawn out and his breath became ragged. He pulled you back hard and leaned forward, the weight of him resting on your lower abdomen. Your cunt fluttered in anticipation of his climax, but he paused. Your hips lifted, seeking friction for your front.

He pulsed once, making your chest flutter with pleasure, but then he swiftly slid out. He left you twitching for more as he finished coming outside. His cum painted your folds and inner thigh, and he grumbled and turned around. You lowered your chin to look just in time for him to release onto the wheelbarrow and floor. Then he stood there with his broad back heaving as he looked around.

You closed your eyes again and opened them when you felt fabric on your inner thigh. He was wiping you off with the bottom of his shirt. His face and neck were blotched pink, and he had fixed his pants. He was looking at you, chest still heaving when his ears perked up at the distant sound of tires on gravel.

He quicky put your shorts back on and gathered you off the table, nestling you in the wheelbarrow once more. He swaddled you in the old blanket, now wet with his cum, and opened the garage before quickly wheeling you back to the shed.

He placed you in the corner where you had been, just in time for the truck to park. As he turned to leave the shed, you said “Tommy. Can you bring me some water?”

He hesitated then gave a short nod before locking the shed again behind him.

He came back later with a jar of water and a metal bucket. You were shivering in the corner when he came in. He set the bucket down next to you, then placed his hand on the crown of your head and gently moved his fingers as he looked around. Then he abruptly began to unbutton his shirt. He pulled you up from the corner to put the shirt on you. His chest was hairy and broad, and his entire torso was thick, just massive.

“Good Tommy,” you said as he finished putting the shirt on you.

He paused and left it unbuttoned. His eyes were big. He held you by the sides, looking you up and down in the oversized shirt and Daisy dukes. Then he put you back where you were and locked the shed behind him.

The shirt was filthy, cumstained, and reeked of sweat, but it didn’t smell as bad as it should've. It didn't make you sick like it should've. When he left, you wrapped it tight around yourself, then looked in the bucket. There were apples.

Thank you for reading and engaging! Love you guys 🖤 please consider commenting even if this is old. It helps to know what you liked.

If you want more, good news - I have more thots! Feel free to send yours, too.

#thomas hewitt #thomas hewitt x reader #leatherface smut #thomas hewitt smut #slasher smut #slasher fucker #tommy hewitt #leatherface x you #thomas hewitt x you #slasher x you #slasher x reader #tw noncon #dark fic #toxicanonymity ☠️#slasher fandom #tw rape #texas chainsaw massacre #leatherface #leatherface x reader

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6okuto · 2 years ago

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WEDDING MOMENTS

gn!reader | kuroo, bokuto, akaashi, hinata, atsumu, osamu, ushijima

hello everyone i'm back 🫶 these are more reception moments than wedding but y'know. give me a break man...

KUROO leans in and whispers in your ear as you dance, “is it bad i want to go home and just lie in bed with you now?” “why are you whispering as if someone can hear you?” you snicker back. tetsurou shoots you a cheeky smile. “so it looks like i’m saying something romantic.” you hit his shoulder, and he only laughs before pulling you into a tight hug. you wait for him to let go before replying. “idiot. but no, it isn’t. my back and feet hurt.” he hums, and you can feel his fingers tapping your back. “do you think it’s possible for newly weds to sneak out of their own wedding reception?”

BOKUTO is walking down the aisle again as everyone disperses to talk or get ready for the reception. you walk up to him, curiosity piqued as he bends down. “what are you doing?” “huh?” he drops a few petals that he was clutching. “crap—hi, baby. i’m just, uh, picking up some of the flowers to take with us. i saw someone do it online, and i thought we could press them or put them somewhere,” he explains softly, as if a little embarrassed. your heart flutters at the thought, and you smile before reaching down yourself. “we better get some flowers, then. and a ziploc bag or something.”

AKAASHI relaxes and rests his head against yours while you watch your guests mingling and dancing. you reach for his hand and intertwine fingers. “you okay?” he nods in response and presses a chaste kiss to your jaw. “yeah, i can finally calm down and not worry about something terrible happening.” “mm, something terrible could still happen.” “love of my life, can you please give your husband a break?” keiji blows air against your skin, eliciting a laugh from you. his tone is light, and you can feel him smiling even while you apologize.

HINATA takes one of the polaroid cameras that you got for the guests. you watch as he poses and takes a picture of himself before handing it to you. “do you want me to take a selfie?” he nods with a grin. “yeah! and also sign it so i can put it in my wallet, or maybe the back of my phone?” his sentence ends as a question to himself. you get your phone so you can check your appearance before mimicking your now husband’s pose. “sho, i swear if mine is bad i want a redo,” you say. he sputters as he looks at his forming photo. “well that’s good because i definitely screwed mine up. i’m like half in the frame.”

ATSUMU’s knee bounces as the video of your relationship the both of you got done nears its end. you shoot him a look, but he doesn’t seem to notice, gaze fixed on the scene. that’s when you hear a familiar voice, but unfamiliar clip start to play. “it’s, fuck, what day is it? november 13, and i’m pretty sure i need t’look for an engagement ring,” your now husband says into the camera. you gape, shock evident across your face. atsumu’s voice is soft as he says your name. “i love you, really. and if you’re seeing this then i didn’t fuck this up, and you decided to marry me, and i’m probably ‘bout to have a heart attack,” he nervously laughs. you turn to atsumu next to you, whose face is flushed red. “don’t look at me, the video isn’t done yet.”

OSAMU keeps holding your hand, and if he isn’t holding it he’s probably thinking of doing so. you don’t mind, finding comfort in the way he rubs the back of it. you’re sitting together when he silently reaches for it again. “i’m pretty sure you’ve held my hand more today than this entire week.” osamu rolls his eyes but smiles. you stare as he gently takes hold of your ring and fidgets with it. “sorry, can’t stop thinkin’ about how we’re actually married now.” you stare at each other, and he rests his chin in his palm. with his other hand, he brings yours up to press gentle kisses against the ring and your skin. “just another excuse to stay close t’you.”

USHIJIMA looks over when you poke his shoulder, and quickly realizes you’re trying to feed him some cake. “say ahh,” you sing song. it’s a half-joke, and you don’t fully expect him to accept, but he leans forward and opens his mouth, hand underneath the fork to catch any crumbs. despite his serious expression and stature, you can't help but think he looks cute. “i know we picked this flavour, but does it taste good?” you ask. wakatoshi nods. “it was a good choice.” he gets a forkful for who you assume is himself. but instead he lifts it toward you. “do you want to try now?”

@devilgirlcrybabiey @lordbugs @smiithys @xfangirl-trashx @passionateuchiha @scaramouchesfootstool @fifteenshadesofpinkk @lotus-sukimono @chloee0x0 @kenmaslov3r @bakugosgrenade @semifilms @sakusasdirtyragdoll @dai-tsukki-desu @Thathoneybee3 @momoewn @aintgeluh @dazaisfavgf @simpforerenn @crystal-lilac @vhenis @omiigad @kur0-kawa @semispilledcoffee @ksyhmm @idontlikeyourjob @sparrowb3nscloset @awkwardaardvarkforever @rory-cakes @prblmtic @dimslover @kuroaka @vampyrkookie @sunaslay @the-midnightskies @h0n3ysgh0st @lackey-laufeyson @bontensbabygirl @dira333 @Kamukayakmonyet @danyisapingu @isentsworld @lilithlunas @anime-ships-gay @todorokiskitten @kellesvt @scill-a @curiouslilbeast @fiona782 @cvhenia @mitskiologist

#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #kuroo x reader #bokuto x reader #akaashi x reader #hinata x reader #atsumu x reader #osamu x reader #ushijima x reader #kuroo tetsuro #bokuto kotaro #akaashi keiji #hinata shoyo #miya atsumu #miya osamu #ushijima wakatoshi #haikyuu multi chara posts u mean the world 2 me #when no one has my back...i know u do.. can i get an amen ?!

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joequiinn · 6 months ago

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The Dos & Don'ts of Fake Dating | E.M. x reader | pt. 14

[chap thirteen] | [all chapters here] | [chapter fifteen]

Summary | You propose a crazy idea to the resident freak of Hawkins, Eddie Munson. But maybe he was even crazier for agreeing to it…

Warnings & Notes | fem reader, slooow burn, faking dating, opposites attract, bratty rich bitch reader, super minor revenge plot, dysfunctional family dynamics, idiots-to-lovers, smut & nsfw themes

Author's Note | Weeell not to give anything away, but I've brought us all a lil treat with this chapter, so eat up my lovelies~~

WC | 6.9k

Chapter Fourteen

“Fu-uck--!” You moaned loudly, head lulled back, mouth hung wide open, eyes rolled into the back of your skull.

A wet-hot mouth ravaged you, tongue swirling your clit as a single finger slowly, tantalizingly worked in and out of you. Your thighs trembled uncontrollably, clenching vice like around the head buried between your legs. Your hands desperately grabbed at the bedsheets, your nails pressing into your palms through the thin fabric.

The mystery man moaned eagerly against your clit, his mouth sucking and nipping in just the right way to drive you absolutely wild. His free hand sent a shiver up your spine as dexterous fingers traced their way up your thigh, your hip, your waist, cupping your breast with a needy squeeze. He teasingly rolled your peaked nipple between his thumb and forefinger, causing your back to arch with a gasp.

In the next breath, his palm pressed firmly between your breasts and forced you to lie back down, his mouth becoming impossibly more insistent and passionate as he lapped at your throbbing wet center. You couldn't help but squirm and writhe, moaning uncontrollably with pleasure; it's as if your body was being both unraveled and wound tight at the same time, sending you into a salacious spiral.

A pathetic, primal sound escaped you as a jolt of pleasure rocked your body hard, forcing you to desperately grab at the man’s mop of curls, tugging as if his mouth was too much for you, as if you were about to spill over. Your eyes were hooded and crossed as you looked down the expanse of your body towards him, gaze focusing on the calloused, flexed hand pressing firmly against your torso; the fingers were adorned with rings, the metal warm against your sweaty, sticky skin.

As the man's rhythm grew frantic, he inserted another finger, a surprised mewl leaping from your throat as you once more threw your head back. Your hips rutted with jerky, raunchy motions against his hot mouth, knees twitching and toes curling as he guided you directly towards your climax. The uncontrollable and desperate sounds leaving your mouth were pornographic, a mess of swears and moans and high-pitched panting. Your thighs were like a bear trap around his skull once you finally reached your peak, hips stuttering against his unrelenting mouth as you threw your head back, vision going black.

He continued to tease at you for a few torturous moments, extracting his fingers only to lap his tongue slowly along your folds. You struggled to catch your breath, weak sighs falling from your lips as his mouth pleasured you.

Finally, he relented, his breath hot between your legs as he slowly pulled back, tracing his lips gently along the inside of your thigh. Your hands fell limply from his mess of hair as you looked down at him, a goofy, satisfied smile spreading across your lips as your chest rose and fell heavily.

When Eddie looked up at you with a devious, lustful grin, your heart dropped as confusion quickly overtook your features. He slowly wrapped his lips around his cum-soaked fingers, sucking them clean as he held your gaze, the dangerous look on his face utterly captivating.

“Fuck, you taste like sin, princess…”

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

It was utterly startling to wake up from a wet dream about Eddie, your eyes shooting open as your alarm clock blared loudly from the nightstand. Disoriented and uncomfortably aroused, you lay there staring at the ceiling for a few long moments, ignoring your clock as the lusty image of Eddie seared itself into your memory. This was not what you needed to start your Friday, but evidently your subconscious had other ideas.

Mouth agape and eyes wide with surprise, you blindly slapped at your bedside table until finally you hand haphazardly turned off the alarm; you were nearly too stunned to move, limbs heavy as you throbbed between your legs.

Fuck, that was far too realistic, it had your head in a tizzy. The feel of Eddie’s hands on your body, of his mouth on your clit… You gasped smally while clenching around nothing, the sensations all the more potent thanks to your sleep-heavy brain. With an annoyed sigh, you closed your eyes as your jaw tensed, but that only made it worse, as behind your lids you could perfectly visualize the carnal gleam on Eddie’s features as he licked his own fingers; the profane imagery made you shudder and squeeze again.

How the hell were you supposed to function for a whole day following a wet dream like that? How were you supposed to look Eddie in the eye or simply exist in the same vicinity as him without thinking of how hot it would be to have his head buried snuggly between your legs?

Considering that the two of you had spent the entire week pretending your impromptu kiss on Monday hadn’t happened, this was a cruel trick for your own mind to play on you. Both you and Eddie had been avoiding any and all discussion regarding that kiss, as if eventually the memory of it would fade away into obscurity. And you thought that had been going well, considering that you could finally behave normally around him as the week progressed.

But that pesky subconscious of yours clearly had other plans.

You huffed loudly, as if that exhale of breath would also rid you of your dream, but to no avail. God, you couldn’t believe this - rarely had you ever had a wet dream before, and now you just had to have one about Eddie? That was just fucking cruel.

At odds with yourself, you were very nearly tempted to take an extra couple of minutes and work out the pent up desire stirring between your legs - that wouldn’t be such a bad thing would it? Just let your hand wander south, so long as you don't take too long, you’d still have enough time to get ready for school…

No, you couldn’t do that, not when less than savory images of Eddie plagued your every thought. You could not touch yourself while picturing his handsome face - you were supposed to be getting over this crush, you couldn’t cave thanks to a sex dream. A really, really hot sex dream that felt a little too good and a little too real…

You abruptly sat up, resisting your urges with every fiber of your being. With a determined glare, you kicked away your blankets and stomped from your bed to your bathroom, hellbent on not thinking about Eddie or that dream. All you needed was a shower to freshen up and forget, that would surely get your head back on track.

But apparently you were far more weak willed than you gave yourself credit for. Within a few minutes of stepping into the steamy shower, your hand snaked between your legs before you could stop yourself, your fingers swirling your clit and dipping between your folds. With your opposite hand, you had to muffle the sound of your whimpers, Eddie’s wanton gaze appearing in vivid detail behind your closed eyes as you moaned for him.

It was the fastest you’d ever made yourself cum, and for a minute you were swept up in just how damn good it felt. But all too quickly, frantic regret set it - now there wasn’t a chance in hell that you could look Eddie in the eye today thanks to the fact that you masturbated while thinking of him.

What was it that you’d told yourself earlier this week? That you didn’t like Eddie? That this crush on him would pass?

After this morning, you knew you were royally screwed, and there was no hope that you’d get over it just like that.

Thanks to the dramatic fight you’d had with your family this past weekend, you ended up grounded yet again. This time it was for real, your father hiding your car keys and your mother begrudgingly chauffeuring you to school and the ice rink - Wednesday was the first time you’d been skating in over a week, and although you missed the sport that used to be the center of your world, you were also coming to loathe it very, very quickly.

Your mother was always running late because she had no concept of time - you’d show up at school at different times every single morning, you’d be stuck there waiting for her for about half an hour every day. More than once, Eddie offered to drive you, but you insisted that neither of you tempt fate at the moment - things were bad with your family right now, and given how exhausted you were by everything, you weren’t currently in the mood to push your luck.

And, so, you were late again today, luckily able to run to your English class with only seconds to spare - your teacher glowered as you darted through the door just as the bell rang, collapsing into your seat with a huff, fixing your hair as you caught your breath.

Within the first ten minutes of the lecture, your mind began to wander despite your best efforts - as the class discussed the writings of Hawthorne, the only thing you were able to think about was the way Dream-Eddie’s tongue worked against you, the way his hands so easily and gently controlled your body.

All through class, your thighs were clenched tightly together; at one point in a particularly good part of your daydream, a small, desperate sound escaped you, and you frantically looked around in the hopes that no one else heard it.

Today was going to be a long fucking day.

You were able to calm down for at least a couple hours, able to briefly forget about Dream-Eddie’s sultry eyes and skilled mouth for a few minutes at a time, though the images of it would always inevitably come back to you. And then, of course, your dreaded fourth period class rolled around, and realizing that you’d have to sit next to Eddie for a whole hour was utterly terrifying. Hell, the closer you got to that suddenly ominous classroom, the slower you walked, as if somehow that could spare you the shame and uncomfortable titillation you’d been feeling all morning.

As you walked, you tried your best to hype yourself up - it was stupid to be nervous about seeing Eddie, so very stupid to be made a nervous wreck over a boy. Were you not the ice princess, the girl who was too rigid and bitchy to feel intimidated by boys? You never got nervous like this about Duncan, or the ex-boyfriends before him, or any other boy for that matter, so why Eddie?

With a resolute expression, you straightened your shoulders, raising your chin high in confidence - you weren’t going to get nervous around Eddie and you weren’t going to think about that damn dream. As you repeated this to yourself like a mantra, you began to feel better, began to feel your nerves slowly leaving you.

Until a familiar arm slung across your shoulders, body bumping into yours slightly as Eddie’s earthy scent immediately engulfed you. All that confidence came tumbling down as your heart jumped in your chest, body growing stiff as you tried to will yourself not to feel a wave of arousal merely from his presence.

“Missed you this morning, princess.” Eddie greeted, his voice all too charming, the sound of your nickname on his lips practically sending a shiver up your spine - was he laying it on extra thick, or were you just alert to the point of paranoia? Eyes slightly wide, you looked up, feeling your cheeks growing warm as you met his gaze; he looked back at you with that stupid warm grin of his, not yet catching onto your trepidation.

You’d better keep it that way.

You pressed your lips tightly together as you composed yourself, hoping that your expression was convincingly nonchalant. The corner of your mouth pulled up into a slight smirk, though you were certain the amusement didn’t even remotely reach your eyes.

“Late again.” You answered simply, your gaze lingering on Eddie’s lips for a long moment before you whipped your attention back to the hallway ahead of you. You could feel Eddie’s eyes still watching, as if he were assessing your mood; you could feel your own anxious heartbeat growing faster under his all too watchful stare.

Eddie simply hummed to himself, which made you curious, but you didn’t mention it. After a few tense seconds, he continued, “You still grounded?”

“Yup.” You popped the ‘p,’ chewing at the inside of your lip - god, you were doing a terrible job of acting normal and unaffected. Eddie knew you far too well now, he’d know that your short answers and distant eyes meant something. As if it would make the situation better, you looked back up at him with as casual an expression as you could manage, “Maybe if my dad’s in a good mood I’ll get my keys back.”

Eddie snorted, which made your heart flutter; why that of all things charmed you was utterly ridiculous, “Is your dad ever in a good mood?”

You gave him your first genuine smile of the day - one encounter with your father, and Eddie already had that man figured out. Eddie’s eyes twinkled at the look on your face, causing your nerves to spike again, the back of your neck hot as you looked down at your feet.

Hoping to keep up your charade, you answered, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen that asshole in a good mood my entire life.”

You two entered class and sat in your respective seats, Eddie setting his foot on the basket below your chair - it was a habit of his that you were always amused by, his stretching his long leg across the aisle simply because he could. You fussed with your belongings, digging out your notebook and pencil, absentmindedly flipping the pages of your math textbook. Anything not to look at Eddie, else you may give yourself away, and you’d already given away too much.

But his eyes still burned into you, you just knew it, and after a minute, the weight of his foot on the basket shifted, growing heavier as he leaned across the aisle; you knew he wanted you to look at him, so hesitantly you did. His brows were furrowed as he studied you, his lips pressed together as if he were trying to figure you out. You raised your own eyebrows at him, but the longer you stared, the more you were reminded of that sex dream; before you realized what you were doing, you clenched your thighs together while taking a careful breath.

“Is something wrong?” Eddie finally asked, and damn it, even his concern was making you horny in some annoying, ridiculous way that didn’t make any sense. You rapidly shook your head, to which he immediately narrowed his eyes - you were doing a piss-poor job at acting normal, “Are you getting worse at lying, princess?”

You pulled an affronted face, although the way Eddie was looking at you even now was making your knees weak. His expression relaxed a little, his eyes slowly lowering from your eyes towards your lips, pausing there for a moment before he looked you up and down as if to figure out what was going on in your head. Like some lovestruck fool, you sighed with a shiver thanks to his dark, attentive stare.

How the hell were you going to survive the rest of the afternoon if these past few minutes alone were getting you heated all over again?

“When you wanna talk, just say so.” Eddie met your eyes again, awaiting some show of accord from you; so, you nodded shortly with an agreeable hum, all the while trying to resist that pesky desire to launch yourself across the aisle and into his lap.

You were thankful to hear the bell ring, hoping that the mundanities of math class would keep your mind from wandering or your eyes from lingering.

Within just a few minutes, though, the sound of Eddie’s fingers drumming atop his desk drew your attention over - at this rate, today was starting to feel like a goddamn sitcom. He absentmindedly drummed out an unfamiliar tune, alternating between that and drawing invisible, nonsensical shapes with his fingertips on the old wooden desktop. His fingers moved easily and thoughtlessly, swirling across the surface, dancing nimbly to whatever music may be in his head. Fuck, his hands were so dexterous, his fingers long and calloused…

You realized that your mouth was hanging open as you watched his attractive hands, and abruptly you snapped your jaw shut and shook your head. Were you really that horny that just Eddie’s distracted movements were doing something for you? What the hell was going on with your hormones today?

For the remainder of class you kept your eyes locked on the blackboard, although you most certainly weren’t taking in any of the droll information your teacher was sharing. Nope, you just couldn’t allow your gaze to drift back over to Eddie, you couldn’t let yourself look like a desperate fool all because he had nice hands and knew how to use them.

God, even that thought immediately messed you up. You clenched your jaw even tighter while trying your best not to think about what Eddie’s hands might be capable of doing.

You wished you could just run right out of the classroom once the lunch bell rang, but that would only confirm for Eddie that something was wrong, so you refrained. You tried to keep your shit together as he scooped up your bookbag for you, as he rested his arm comfortably across your shoulder, as he smiled down at you with such ease. Why was he so damn good at this fake boyfriend thing? It was irritating how charming you found it, how hot you found it.

Once the two of you had collected your lunches and joined your group at the table, Eddie surprised you by tugging your chair closer to his, a startled sound escaping you as you were suddenly pulled along against your will. The table snickered at the noise you made, and you shot Eddie a confused, if not mildly irritated, look. He simply shrugged with a mischievous smirk - as you narrowed your eyes, you realized he was probably taunting you so that your mood might improve. Seemed silly, but it was also a very Eddie thing to do, a habit he’d picked up somewhere along the way.

He rested his arm along the back of your chair, his fingertips occasionally brushing lightly along your shoulder; the first time it happened, you jolted a little at the touch, drawing his attention briefly. You simply bit your lip and hoped you didn’t look too nervous. You were starting to get the crazy impression that somehow Eddie could read your thoughts and that he was doing this on purpose.

“You guys see that Silver Bullet movie yet?” Jeff eventually asked the table about halfway through lunch, focusing his attention mostly on you. It felt as if everyone was anticipating your response, considering that you were now the resident horror fan of the group; you hadn’t asked for that title, but it had clearly been bestowed upon you. With a glance around, you sighed and took the lead, knowing they were hesitant to say anything on the subject before you did. You still had to work on getting these guys comfortable around you.

“We missed it for the party, remember?” You began, “And now I’m grounded, so who knows when the hell I’ll get to see it. If I get to see it.”

“Which one is that again?” Grant also looked at you, certain that you’d have the answer.

“Stephen King werewolf movie.” You explained simply, thankful for the distraction that the rest of the group was offering; horror was probably the only subject that could take your mind off anything else, “Based on one of his books, you guys should check it out.”

“When did he write a werewolf book?” Dustin chimed in, ever eager to make some kind of connection with you. Although you had no interest in becoming friends with the freshmen, you couldn’t help but feel them growing on you, much to your chagrin.

“I thought he wrote a vampire one.” Mike added, and you rolled your eyes in anticipation of yet another match of bickering between the three stooges.

“He’s a horror writer, he’s practically written everything already.” You interjected, having the answers that everyone else clearly lacked.

So, you went into a tangent about Cycle of the Werewolf, Salem’s Lot, and the respective film adaptations. Once horror was brought up, the entire group would eventually shut up just to listen to you go on and on about the subject.

It was as you were rambling about werewolf lore - a particular horror subject you were fond of - that you had enough courage to finally glance over at Eddie again. You’d been avoiding his dangerous gaze through all of lunch, growing nervous each time you caught him staring from the corner of your eye. But you’d gotten into a groove with your impromptu horror lecture, allowing yourself to finally look at him again with renewed confidence.

But, damn, did you choose the wrong moment to do so.

Eddie was always so attentive when you went into these little tangents of yours - his gaze was almost unblinking as he took in each and every word you said as if they were of the utmost importance. And this time was no different, his expression relaxed and easy as his eyes watched you closely.

But Eddie’s unwavering focus meant he wasn’t paying attention to the shitty cafeteria cheeseburger in his hand; ketchup oozed onto his fingers just as you happened to glance in his direction. He looked down at his hand for only a moment to acknowledge the mess before promptly returning his eyes to you, way, way too invested in what you had to say about werewolf lore.

You were almost in a trance as you held one another’s gaze, Eddie slowly bringing his hand to his mouth, the action immediately causing your heart rate to increase in both fear and desire. It felt like the moment was in slow motion as he first swiped his tongue along his forefinger, then sucked ketchup off the tip of his thumb. Everything about the action was fucking tantalizing and nearly excruciating, his thumb resting against his lips, his tongue poking out from between his teeth as his eyes practically burned into yours.

Fuck, you taste like sin, princess…

You hadn’t realized that your words had trailed off, that your mouth hung open dumbly as you and Eddie stared at one another. It almost seemed as if he were trapped in the moment as well, lost in your hooded, lecherous stare. Your gaze went back and forth between his lips and his eyes, far too turned on by the way he licked his fingers clean.

“Hey, lovebirds, stop being freaking weird!” Dustin’s insistent shout drew both you and Eddie out of your trance, your eyes widening as you whipped your attention to the boy. The whole table seemed to be watching you two, and as your cheeks grew boiling hot, you wondered just how long you were staring, just how long you two were dumbly lost in your own world, just how long everyone had been watching you two make eyes at each other.

Clearly unphased by the awkwardness that had just transpired, Dustin continued, “What the hell were you saying about silver? You left us hanging because you were fucking ogling him.”

Your face grew even warmer, your entire body flush with shame - shit it was so fucking obvious that even a dumb freshman could see it. You blinked while trying to regain your composure, giving Dustin a provoked look, hoping that if you just acted bitchy enough it would distract everyone from the weird moment that had passed between you and Eddie.

You glared coldly at Dustin, leaning forward a little with a taunting tone, “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

“Yeah, I would, that’s why I asked.” He countered, which would have made you laugh were you not trying to mask your embarrassment. You clenched your jaw, eyes narrowing as you tried to think of a smart comeback.

“Too busy ogling my boyfriend to remember, I guess.” You nearly panicked even as you said it, but you thought it sounded convincingly bratty and unaffected.

You dared not look at Eddie as you rested back in your seat with crossed arms, hoping everyone would just move on and forget the whole thing. But you also suspected that they could all tell that you were mortified, that they’d all whisper later about the way you stared wickedly at Eddie with his fingers in his mouth. The mental image of it practically made you shudder all over again.

You were half tempted to jump from your seat and disappear from the cafeteria, desperate for some space from Eddie and an escape from your self-consciousness. But that would surely draw even more attention to the whole situation, and you really didn’t need that right now. So, you stubbornly slumped in your seat and looked around the table, your gaze menacing enough that Gareth took your cue and jumped into a new subject.

From the corner of your eye, you were certain Eddie was still watching you, but you weren’t feeling quite brave enough to look at him just yet.

As lunch carried on and the group jumped from subject to subject, you eventually felt Eddie’s hand ever-so-gently at your shoulder, his arm having been on the back of your chair the entire time; you couldn’t tell if he was doing it on purpose or not, but he seemed to be drawing shapes against the fabric of your shirt. You turned your head just enough to glance at his hand, but not enough to draw attention to what you were doing; for a brief moment, you watched his fingers in your periphery, feeling heat pool in your abdomen at the relaxed way his hand moved.

You allowed yourself to finally look towards Eddie’s face again, gazing up through your lashes carefully. He was watching his friends, but the minute your eyes were on him, he seemed to feel it; his eyes flicked to meet yours, the corner of his mouth pulling back when he realized he was being watched. Your heart skipped as you tried to smirk back, feeling stupid at how giddy you were because of a simple fucking glance.

Eddie shot you a quick wink before returning his attention to the conversation, which made you feel warm from head to toe, nervously casting your eyes down as your heart drummed in your ears.

God, was he doing it on purpose? Eddie had never been this flirty and teasing before, right? Or had you never noticed it? He couldn’t have known what was going through your head, so why did it seem as if he’d turned the charm dial all the way up to eleven?This was pure torture right now, but all you could do was smile and bear it, hoping that no one could tell how you were practically melting all thanks to Eddie. You couldn't wait for lunch hour to be over, for the whole day to be over - then you could bury your head in your pillows and hope for your embarrassment to go away… Or maybe you’d be plagued by more wet dreams. Both options sounded as if they’d only add to your torment, and you very nearly groaned dismally in anticipation.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

Once school wrapped up for the day and your mother eventually arrived to get you, you were brought back to the ice rink; thanks to your annoyingly tantalizing day, you’d all but forgotten that you’d be dragged back to the rink, groaning about it once you realized which direction your mother was heading in. You’d been chewed out by your coach on Wednesday, who reprimanded you for skipping your last Friday class without a word spoken to her. You had a feeling she’d be there waiting for you again, keeping an eye and ensuring that you were taking this responsibility seriously. Maybe if you just acted like enough of a bitch, she’d take the Friday classes from you - or maybe that was just wishful thinking.

So, you were once more skating laps around the rink, twirling amongst the kids who were struggling to keep up with you. You harshly barked directions, correcting postures and angles without a concern for how mean you may have sounded. You couldn’t tell if you were just in a foul mood, or if the kids were being extra annoying tonight. Either way, it was at least a temporary distraction from thinking about Eddie.

But life certainly had a twisted sense of humor - once you’d wrapped up your class and stepped outside, an all too familiar van was parked near the front of the lot, causing your brow to furrow as you quickly looked around you. Eddie was sitting on a bench with a cigarette between his lips, far enough away from the door that he wouldn’t draw any harsh glances from parents picking up their kids. Pulled between two reactions, you were both excited to see him and nervous as all hell to be near him.

He acknowledged you with an easy grin once you approached, scooching over on the bench to make room for you. When you didn’t immediately sit down, he insistently patted the seat with a tenacious look. You couldn’t help the little smile that graced your lips, and so you sat beside him, keeping a safe distance between you two. Eddie offered you the cigarette, which you happily took from his hand.

“What’re you doing here?” You asked him, crossing your legs on the bench and watching as cars entered and exited the parking lot.

“Checking on you.” Eddie answered simply; you held the cigarette back towards him once you took a hit, “You were weird today.”

A surprised, nervous laugh escaped your mouth, smoke floating out with it as you felt a shiver of anxiety roll through you, “Strange way to compliment a girl.”

Although you weren’t looking at him, you could imagine the face that Eddie made; you could almost hear the beguiled eyeroll in his voice, “Just wanna make sure you’re okay.”

Now, you glanced over at him, enjoying the look of his profile before he also turned to face you. You nervously dropped your gaze, staring at the cigarette between his fingers.

“See, like that.” He took a drag and leaned towards you just a little, dipping his head in an attempt to catch your eyes. Smoke slowly trailed out of his nose, and you watched its tendrils spiral out into the air before you let yourself look Eddie in the eye. His stare nearly made you shiver, reminded of your dream all over again.

In his usual way, Eddie grinned easily; he was clearly assessing your mood, and decided humor was the best tactic, if that mischievous glint in his eyes said anything. He dipped his head towards your conspiratorially, smile growing wider as if amused by whatever thought just crossed his mind, “Are you breaking up with me?”

The joke took you aback, and another laugh slipped out of you, your eyes finally relaxing as you shook your head and smiled wide. For that moment, your dream was forgotten, the two of you grinning at each other like little kids far too pleased with themselves.

You rolled your eyes with amusement, “Me? Never.”

“Good.” Eddie bumped your shoulder, relaxing back against the bench as he watched cars come and go, “So, then tell me what’s wrong.”

You eyed him again, lips pressed tightly together at his persistence. You had to come up with something if you wanted him to drop the subject, even if that something was a shitty little lie. Anything but admitting “I had a sex dream about you, Eddie!”

The answer was right in front of you, though it made you nonetheless nervous to discuss it - you had to talk about Monday. You two should have already talked about it regardless, but it would be a much easier subject to breach than the raunchy truth behind why you were being distant today. So, taking a deep breath, you caved.

“Monday.” You chewed the inside of your cheek, hoping you didn’t come across too nervous. Eddie’s eyes widened in surprise, taken aback by the response, although in the next instance there was acceptance in his face - it made you think that he’d been thinking about Monday, too, especially once he scratched the back of his neck in that nervous way of his, “I shouldn’t have done that; put you in an odd spot.”

He shook his head reassuringly, giving you a lopsided grin, hiding any nerves he may have had about the subject, “I mean, it surprised the hell outta me… but if I were you, I probably would’ve done the same thing. Stick it to the assholes, right?”

You smile back faintly, thankful that he wasn’t making a big deal of it, “Well, next time I want to stick it to the assholes, I’ll at least give you a warning first.”

Eddie made a look of agreement while dropping his cigarette to the ground, snuffing it out with the heel of his shoe.

You studied him closely for a few moments, thinking about not only the kiss on Monday, but the kiss that almost certainly happened at the party. You still couldn’t remember most of it, but maybe that was because you didn’t want to remember it either. Moments of it had come back to you throughout the week - little glimpses at memories that you think happened. You playing with Eddie’s hair; Eddie running his fingers along your arm; you kissing Eddie’s neck.

At some point during the week, maybe it was Wednesday or Thursday, Eddie caught you humming a tune and did a double take, asking with dread where you’d heard the song before - up till that moment, you weren’t sure if it was a real song or something made up in your head. But the question reminded you that at some point you had crawled into the front of the van for a cassette player, although you couldn’t recall what artist had played - something told you that’s where the song came from, considering it’d been in your head for days.

This week really had been a strange kind of torture for you.

“I wasn’t your first kiss, right?” You questioned, suddenly worried that that was the case. He laughed smally at the question, shaking his head with a smirk.

“No, that wasn’t my first kiss.”

You sighed with relief, “Good, I would’ve felt awful if it was.”

“Why?” His brow furrowed, attentively watching for your response. You gaped for just a moment, fearful of saying something stupid.

“Because I would hate to steal your first kiss, that’s all.” Eddie smiled, which should have put you at ease, and yet it didn’t.

“It wouldn’t have been so bad if you had - there are worse things.” Your heart skipped - why did Eddie keep doing this to you? Keep charming you and flirting with you, whether intentional or not.

Your cheeks grew warm, so you looked away from him, staring down at the ground. As you relaxed, your curiosity suddenly got the better of you; you debated for a moment whether or not to ask the question that crossed your mind.

“So, who was your first kiss?” You grinned to yourself, trying to spy Eddie’s reaction in your periphery; it looked as if he shook his head, maybe debating how to respond. You shuffled your body so that you were facing him, knees pressed lightly against his thigh as you gave him an eager look. It made Eddie smile, happy to appease you as he sighed in agreement.

“Mark Warner’s older sister.”

Your jaw dropped a little in disbelief, to which Eddie gave you a trepidatious look, as if fearing your reaction. You furrowed your brow, searching his face for a lie or joke, but there was none to be found. So, all you could do was laugh, leaning towards Eddie as you struggled to picture the girl he was talking about.

“Pru, right? No wait, it was Paige? Damn.” You tried to recall the girl’s face, but you came up blank - you’d only met her once before at one of Mark’s parties, but that was so damn long ago that you weren’t entirely sure what she looked like. No, the most you knew about Paige came straight from her brother’s mouth, and you hadn’t seen that kid in a couple years.

“Yeah, yeah, no one believes me.” Eddie grinned with a shake of his head. You were far too curious now, giving Eddie an eager nudge.

“Well, how the hell did that happen? You two meet at school? Wait, how old is she?”

“One thing at a time, princess.” He teased, taking in your excited expression with surprise, “We met at the Hideout a couple years ago, bonded over music, dated for a little bit.”

“You dated?” Despite your curiosity, you couldn’t help the pang of jealousy that hit you - they met at the Hideout? And they dated? Had he met other girls there, too? Did he ever take other girls to his gigs? This was something you should not have felt territorial about, and yet you couldn't help yourself. You hoped your face hadn’t given you away, because Eddie did not need to know you were jealous of his ex.

Eddie gave a simple nod before his expression grew conspiratory, “What about you? Who was your first kiss?”

You rolled your eyes at the memory that came to you, always finding the story amusing, “Oh, it’s stupid.”

“That makes it even better.” Eddie teased, now grinning wickedly in anticipation, which made you excited to share.

“I was in sixth grade - it was my first real party, there were older kids there, and everyone wanted to play spin the bottle. I ended up kissing Steve Harrington.” You blushed a little at the memory, looking away from Eddie as if embarrassed by it; he laughed with gleeful delight, “God, it was so dumb, I didn’t know what I was doing.”

“Harrington, huh…” Eddie mulled it over before laughing again, “I guess that makes mine better than yours; I didn’t have to kiss someone in front of a bunch of hormonal preteens.”

“Yeah, some of the other girls weren’t happy about it… So, I kissed him again later that night.” You shrugged as if you were innocent, causing Eddie to chuckle once more.

“Were you always a little asshole?” Eddie smiled from ear-to-ear, his eyes alight with utter amusement. You shoved him with a laugh, rolling your eyes.

“Why do you find it so funny?” He gave a noncommittal look in response, and you shook your head at the lack of explanation.

“You weren’t into Harrington, were you?”

“Hell no, he was so damn clean cut, it’s boring; so not my type.” Eddie fished out another cigarette, and briefly you wondered how long you two had been sitting here already. After he lit it, Eddie took a hit and handed it to you.

“Then what is your type?” He asked as smoke fell from his lips, “Duncan seems pretty clean cut to me.”

You gave him a snide look, “Okay, so my track record doesn’t add up.”

Eddie continued grinning as he watched you breath in smoke before slowly blowing it into the space between you two, “Yeah, you’ve always gone for pretty boys, haven’t you?”

Did he sound… defeated - jealous, even - or were you just imagining that?

“Well, most guys were too afraid to flirt with me, so I had limited options.” You stared at one another as if conveying something unsaid, nervously swallowing a lump in your throat. Putting on your best comedic smile, you added, “So, thanks for flirting with me, Munson, even if I had to bribe you to do it.”

Eddie grinned in good humor, leaning in as if he had a secret, “Is ‘the Freak’ more your type, princess?”

You inhaled nervously, anxiety suddenly weighing on your chest - fuck, he was asking that as a joke, right? This wasn’t real flirting, was it? You tried in vain to keep your expression calm, but you were certain Eddie had seen your falter, even if it was only for a moment.

But by some stroke of luck, you were saved by a pair of headlights illuminating the two of you, followed by the honking of a horn. Your mother’s voice impatiently called your name, to which you rolled your eyes in frustration, scooping up your gym bag with a heavy sigh. Eddie stood, tugging you to your feet and pulling you into an unexpected hug that was a little too tight - it took you a moment, but you realized it was a show for your mother, a little way to annoy her. He took a deep inhale as if smelling your shampoo, his lips grazing your temple as he pulled back.

“Catch you next week.” Eddie smiled at you softly before waving tauntingly in your mother’s direction. You tried to refrain from laughing while jogging to the car, taking a moment to shoot Eddie one last smile over your shoulder.

addt. Author's Note | Is it cruel to cold open with a hot little wet dream, or is it exactly the thing we all needed? Also, if you're missing from the taglist, lemme know, I was cleaning it up earlier, and now I'm nervous names are missing lol

@3rd-conchord @a-queen-blr @adelalaaa @adversary713 @avalon-wolf

@costellation-hunter @daisy-munson @daisyridleyss @damon-loves-pie @damp4eddie

@dreamerjj @eddiernunson @frogtape @fromasgardandback @fckyeahlames

@graciehams @kellsck @kthomps914 @littlexdeaths @lotrefcp

@love-anonymous-writer @marrowfrog00 @maskofmirrors @mewchiili @miaajaade

@miss-celestial-being @mmmunson @moonisu @munsonssweets @no-bueno-writer

@nxrdamp @rach5ive @rcailleachcola @sav12321 @seatbacksandtraytables

@sheneedsrocknroll92 @steeldaisies @stormgrl19 @swiftsgirlfriend @welcometohellsock

@whats-my-question @xxsxdghxstxx

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x you #stranger things #em #dos and donts

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writemekpop · 23 days ago

Text

Babymaker | Lee Taeyong

Summary: You're trying for a baby, so you have to have sex with Taeyong even when you're furious at him.

Genre: Suggestive, Husband!Taeyong, Angst

Word count: >1k

“Edgar?” you scoff. “You seriously want to name our baby ‘Edgar?”

Taeyong huffs. “I didn’t laugh at any of your baby names.”

“Yeah, because none of them were dumb,” you reply.

Taeyong rolls out of bed and stands up, his face turning bright red. “That’s it. I’m going to sleep in the spare room-”

He is suddenly interrupted, because your phone alarm goes off.

“Oh no…” Taeyong groans.

“Yep,” you say grimly. “Time to make a baby.”

You and Taeyong have been trying to get pregnant for the last three months. You are on a strict sex schedule. You haven’t missed one session yet, and you’re not about to start.

“Does it have to be tonight?” Taeyong says.

“It’s my last day of ovulation,” you say. “This is the best chance we have of getting pregnant for the rest of the month.” You sigh. “Look. I don’t feel like it either, but…”

Taeyong glares at the wall for a long moment, then sighs. “Fine. Let’s just get the damn thing over with.”

He gets back into bed. Instinctively, you smooth your hands over his shoulders, pulling him in for a kiss.

Suddenly, he pulls back.

“Look, I can’t keep kissing you,” he says. “I can feel that you’re still… judging me.”

“You can feel this, can you? With your spidey sense?”

“There! See? Judgement!” Taeyong says.

You roll your eyes. “Fine. You know what? We won’t kiss. Let’s just move on.”

Taeyong starts unbuttoning your pyjama shirt, but you swat him off. “No need for all that!”

Both of you quickly remove your trousers and underwear, and then the quick, mechanical work begins under the covers.

Despite your annoyance, the sight of Taeyong’s shining back, the muscles of his arms working under the skin, and the way his shaking breaths still manage to turn you on.

You hate that your body still answers to his. You still want him, even though you also want to slam the door in his face.

Taeyong huffs. “Why are you looking at me like that? So judgemental…”

“Fine, I won’t look at you at all. I’ll look at the ceiling,” you say.

Taeyong huffs. “Judgemental, judgemental, j-” ‘

“If you say that word one more time, I swear I’ll-” you say.

Taeyong looks pointedly at you. “You’ll what?”

“I’ll… I’ll…”

An intense wave of stimulation from Taeyong’s body is making it hard for you to remember what your point was.

A moment later, you both groan, as, almost painfully, you reach your climax.

You are both panting for breath, your bodies uncomfortably entwined together.

“Judgemental,” Taeyong mutters.

You shove your shirt and trousers back on and storm out of the room.

After an hour of aggressively pacing up and down the living room, you finally feel calmer. You can hardly remember why you were arguing in the first place. Edgar or no edgar, it doesn’t matter. You’re not even pregnant yet - there is no baby to name!

You pad back up to your bedroom, and knock lightly on the door.

“Honey?” you say.

“Uh-huh?” Taeyong calls back, but his voice sounds strange, so you push open the door.

Taeyong is sitting in bed, his chin between his knees. His eyes are red-rimmed, like he’s spent the last hour crying.

You crawl in to bed and wrap your arms around him. When he rests his head on your shoulder, you let out a sigh of relief. He’s not angry at you.

“What’s the matter?” you say, as you stroke his soft black hair, breathing in the scent of his cherry shampoo.

“I think… that was the one,” he says.

“What?” you say.

“I think we just got pregnant. I know it sounds stupid, but I have a feeling it just happened. And, like an idiot, I let it happen when we were arguing…”

His voice trails off. You hug him more tightly. Your body fits effortlessly into his, like a key finding its lock.

“What are we going to tell our kid when they ask how they were conceived?” he says, wiping his eye with his palm.

“Have you ever met a teenager?” you say, grinning. “Trust me, they don’t want to think about their parents having sex.”

Taeyong laughs despite the tears still running down his face. “Are you sure?”

You look at him. “Do you know how you were conceived?"

“Eww no, of course not!” Taeyong says.

You both start to laugh uncontrollably. It is a snotty, tear-stained laugh that comes right from your bellies.

Taeyong pulls you to him and kisses you with so much passion it leaves you lightheaded.

Taeyong looks at you under his lashes, toying with the top button of your shirt. “Did I mention that my girlfriend looks incredibly sexy tonight?”

You laugh. “How could you possibly be ready to go again?”

Taeyong bites his lip to stop himself from laughing. His fingers slip down your shirt and to the waistband of your pyjama bottoms. “I am not ready to go again, but you on the other hand…”

You pull him in for another kiss. “Ahh yes. The pleasures of not making a baby.”

Taeyong nods. “You understand my point precisely.”

—

MAIN MASTERLIST

Let us know what you thought in the comments or on anon! 💋

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soulofapatrick · 2 months ago

Text

"I’m your idiot" - Senami Shinazugawa x female reader

Summary: You get injured and Senami panics for once

Words: 4K

Warnings: blood; injury

Notes: I just finished Demon Slayer hehe

Y/N’s POV

The Butterfly Mansion is so close now. Its rooftops peek through the dense forest, like a distant promise, barely visible above the treetops. The faint clash of swords echoes on the wind, sharp and rhythmic, a sound that’s both reassuring and agonising. Every step I take feels heavier, as though my body is being pulled down by invisible chains. My legs tremble beneath me, struggling to carry my exhausted frame. Blood, sticky and hot, pools beneath my uniform, seeping through the fabric and staining my skin. It’s a constant, unrelenting flow, a reminder that I’m barely holding on.

Sanemi’s going to be furious.

The thought cuts through the fog of pain clouding my mind like a blade. His voice, sharp as always, rings in my ears: Why didn’t you call for backup? What the hell were you thinking? Those words will bite—harsh and unforgiving—but what stings more than the anger in his voice is the worry that always follows. It’s the worry that weighs heavier on me than anything else.

I stumble, my foot catching on a loose rock, and I barely manage to grab hold of a tree trunk to stop myself from crashing down. My knees threaten to buckle, but I force myself forward, one step after another, despite the waves of dizziness that threaten to swallow me whole.

The courtyard is so close now—just ahead, an open space where the Hashira train. My heart stutters in my chest, a jarring mix of relief and dread. I don’t want him to see me like this, vulnerable, broken. But I know I can’t make it much farther. I’m too far gone.

By the time I reach the courtyard, my vision is nothing but a blur of shapes and colours, spinning as if I’m caught in a storm. The sound of sparring fills my ears—Mitsuri’s laughter, light and infectious, Obanai’s dry remarks laced with annoyance, the sharp clang of steel meeting steel as Giyuu’s blade clashes against Sanemi’s. The noises are distant, muffled, like they’re reaching me through a thick veil of water, as though I’m standing at the bottom of a deep well.

I take one more step.

My body betrays me. My legs give way beneath me, and the world tilts violently. The ground rises up to meet me, hard and unforgiving, as I crash to my knees. My palms scrape against the dirt, rough and raw, and a sharp jolt of pain shoots through my side. I choke on the coppery taste of blood in my mouth, swallowing back a cry that threatens to escape.

For a moment, I can’t breathe. The world spins, my vision darkening at the edges. The pounding of my heartbeat fills my ears, drowning out everything else. But then, through the haze, I see them—the Hashira—training under the sun, their movements swift and fluid, their presence grounding me, even as my strength fades.

“Y/N!” Mitsuri’s voice slices through the fog, high-pitched and laced with panic. My head jerks toward her, and I catch the sight of her wooden sword slipping from her hands, forgotten as she freezes in horror. Her eyes widen in disbelief, her face draining of colour as she takes in the sight of me.

Her cry cuts through the air, sharp and unrestrained, drawing everyone’s attention in an instant. Giyuu’s movements falter, his typically serene composure briefly disrupted by a flicker of concern that crosses his stoic features. Obanai stiffens, his eyes narrowing as they fixate on me, sharp and calculating, the gears in his mind turning in silence. And Sanemi—

Sanemi freezes mid-swing, his body tensing as if time itself has slowed. His sword, once poised to strike Giyuu with practiced precision, slips from his grip and crashes to the ground. The clang of metal against stone echoes across the courtyard, the sharpness of the sound making my already fragile heart skip a beat.

“Y/N!” His voice shatters the tension, cracking with raw, unfiltered panic, cutting through the chaos like a blade.

I barely register the rush of his footsteps—fast, determined—as he breaks into a dead sprint toward me. My arms tremble, the last vestiges of my strength giving way, and before I can crumple entirely to the earth, his presence is there, like a storm rushing in to steady me.

Sanemi drops to his knees beside me with such force that the earth beneath us seems to shudder in response. His hands are on me instantly—rough, urgent, but somehow tender—as he pulls me against his chest, cradling me like I might slip away if he isn’t careful.

“Shit, shit,” he mutters under his breath, his voice barely a whisper but full of panic and disbelief. His eyes rake over me, taking in the blood soaking through my torn uniform, the tremors that wrack my body with every shallow breath. His fingers press against my side, and I can’t help the sharp intake of breath, a flinch of pain that I can’t hide. “What the hell happened to you?”

The words barely reach my mind through the haze of pain clouding everything. I try to respond, but my throat is so dry, parched, that all that escapes is a weak, rasping sound—an echo of a voice that feels like it belongs to someone else.

“Damn it, don’t talk,” he snaps, his voice harsh, but the fury in his words is quickly undermined by the trembling of his hand against my side, the softness that lingers despite the anger in his tone. “You’re bleeding everywhere—how long have you been walking like this?”

I summon what little strength I have left to lift my gaze to his, meeting his eyes—stormy and frantic, filled with a mixture of disbelief, anger, and something softer, something buried deeper that I can’t quite place. With great effort, I force my lips into the faintest of smiles, even though every fibre of my being aches in protest. “Didn’t... want to bother you,” I whisper, each word a struggle, each breath like shards of glass in my chest.

His expression contorts, his lips parting as though to say something, but no words come. For a moment, he simply stares at me, his chest rising and falling rapidly, as though he's at war with himself. He’s torn, and it’s painfully evident—torn between the fury that surges within him and the vulnerability that threatens to break through.

“Bother me?” he growls, his voice thick with emotion, his hand tightening around me, but not in a way that would hurt. “You’re—” He stops himself, inhaling sharply through his nose as though trying to calm the storm inside him, trying to keep himself from unraveling.

Behind him, Mitsuri hovers anxiously, her hands clasped over her mouth, her wide eyes filled with worry. Obanai stands a few steps back, his usual calm indifference replaced by a rare flicker of unease. The atmosphere around us is thick with tension, heavy and suffocating.

“Giyuu, go get Shinobu,” Sanemi barks, his voice cutting through the silence like a whip, his command sharp and unwavering despite the chaos swirling inside him. He doesn’t look up from me, his focus entirely on the fragile weight of my body in his arms. He’s shaking, but he won’t let it show—not yet.

I hear the rapid retreat of Giyuu’s footsteps as he races off to find Shinobu. His footsteps fade into the distance, and in the silence that follows, Mitsuri takes a hesitant step closer. Her voice trembles, barely more than a whisper, as she asks, “Is she—Sanemi, is she going to be okay?”

Sanemi’s jaw tightens at the question, and his lips press into a thin line, a flicker of something dangerous flashing in his eyes. He lifts his gaze to hers, the flicker of panic momentarily giving way to a controlled mask of determination. But when his eyes dart back to my face, the fear he’s trying so desperately to hide is unmistakable. It’s there, in the way his pupils constrict, in the way his hand—still cradling me—quivers.

“She will be,” he says, his voice firm, though the conviction falters like a thread pulled too tight.

His forehead drops to mine, and I can feel his breath—hot, uneven—against my skin. His presence envelops me, grounding me in a reality that feels dangerously distant. “You’re an idiot,” he murmurs, his voice low, cracking with restrained emotion. His words sting, but it’s not the anger that cuts deep. It’s the tremble beneath them—the rawness, the fear. “You could’ve died out there, and for what? To spare me a little worry?”

I manage a weak laugh, though it comes out more like a dry, desperate wheeze, and a bitter taste coats my tongue. “Figured you’d... yell at me less.”

His fingers tighten against my side—almost painfully so—and his shoulders tremble with the weight of emotions he’s fighting to suppress. “You think I care about that right now?” His voice cracks, fragile and breaking. “You think I care about how much I yell at you when you’re bleeding out in my arms?” His words are strained, raw with anguish, and the desperation that laces his voice sends a chill through me, more potent than the pain. “I just—” He stops himself, biting back whatever else he wants to say, his chest rising and falling as he draws in a shaky breath.

“Sanemi...” I whisper his name, my voice barely audible, but it seems to carry the weight of everything unsaid between us.

His lips tremble, and then, before I can even blink, he interrupts me, his forehead pressing harder against mine. “I’ve got you,” he says, his voice a fierce promise, though the cracks in his tone betray the fear that’s clawing at him. “You’re going to be fine. Just—just stay with me, okay? Don’t you dare close your eyes.”

Mitsuri kneels beside us, her hands hovering over me, as though afraid that the slightest touch will make everything worse. “Sanemi, I think—” she begins, but her words falter in the air, swallowed by the tension.

“I know,” he snaps, but then his voice softens as my breathing catches in a strained gasp. “I know,” he repeats, almost to himself, a mantra in the silence that follows.

The world around me tilts, fading further into a haze as the darkness creeps at the edges of my vision. But still, I feel him—his strength, his warmth—as he gently, but urgently, lifts me into his arms. The movement is careful, as if he believes that any jolt will shatter me into a million pieces. And still, his heartbeat pounds in my ears—loud, frantic, wild—but steady enough to hold on to. His arms are like iron bands, yet there’s a tenderness to them, a desperation that breaks through the tension.

As he rises to his feet, his voice drops to a mutter, too low for anyone else to catch, but not too low for me. “You’re everything, you idiot,” he breathes, his words laced with an agony so pure it almost cuts through the darkness threatening to swallow me whole. “Don’t you dare leave me.”

And even as the shadows tug at my consciousness, pulling me deeper into oblivion, I cling to him. To the sound of his voice, jagged and frantic. To the heat of his body, holding me together. To the promise buried in the depths of his words, a lifeline tethering me to the world, even as everything slips away.

——

The first thing I register is the sterile scent of herbs and salves, mingling with the faint scent of wood and fire. My body feels heavy, weighed down by exhaustion, but the softness of the futon beneath me is a welcome reprieve from the unforgiving battlefield. Each muscle aches as if I’ve been torn apart and stitched back together again, but for the first time in what feels like forever, I’m allowed to rest.

I try to shift, but a warmth at my side stops me, pulling me back into the stillness. Slowly, my senses sharpen, and I realise my hand is wrapped in something rough, something solid. A warm, unyielding presence. I blink, my vision blurry at first as the light filters through the window, and my gaze lands on him.

Sanemi.

He’s slumped in a chair beside the bed, his body curved toward me like a lifeline, his head resting gently on my thigh. His white hair spills messily over the edge of the blanket, soft strands caught in the light like streaks of moonlight. His grip on my hand is firm, almost desperate, as if even in sleep, he’s afraid I might slip away.

I blink back the sting of tears at the sight of him, his exhaustion written across every line of his face. His brows are furrowed even now, as though he's still fighting, still caught in some nightmare he can’t wake from. I feel a pang deep in my chest—this man, this warrior, so strong and unwavering, yet here he is, vulnerable, caught between the worlds of dreams and fear.

My free hand moves without thought, trembling fingers sliding gently through the mess of white hair, like I can anchor him to me in the way he’s always done for me. His hair is coarse, yet soft to the touch, like him—tough and unyielding, but full of unexpected warmth. I thread my fingers through it, offering a gentle, soothing stroke.

He stirs almost instantly, his head lifting slightly, his eyes blinking open slowly, groggily at first. The confusion on his face fades almost immediately, his eyes locking onto mine with wide-eyed shock. And then, a relief so intense it fills the room with the weight of it.

“Y/N?” His voice is rough, hoarse, as though he’s been yelling at the world for days, his throat raw from disuse. But the fear in his eyes, the way they soften when they settle on me, tells me everything I need to know.

“Hi,” I whisper, my throat dry and scratchy, the words barely leaving my lips.

For a moment, he doesn’t move. Doesn’t even breathe. His whole body freezes, like he’s afraid if he so much as blinks, I’ll vanish. Then, his hand tightens around mine, and he leans forward, his face hovering just above mine.

“You’re awake,” he breathes, his voice cracking, his face inches from mine. His hand drops from my hand only to cradle my face, his thumb brushing along my cheek in a gesture so gentle, it feels like the softest of prayers. “You—damn it, you’ve been out for four days.”

Four days?

I echo his words softly, my voice faint, barely audible. “Four days?”

He nods, his forehead dropping to rest against mine. His breath is shaky, uneven, and I can feel the tension in his body, the weight of everything he’s carried these past days, all of it pouring out in that single exhale. “Four damn days of you lying here while I—I thought I might lose you,” he mutters, the words laced with the kind of pain I’ve never heard from him before.

My hand moves again, resting softly against his cheek, feeling the roughness of his skin beneath my palm. His eyes snap open, and I smile faintly at him, the curve of my lips weak but genuine.

“I’m here, Sanemi,” I murmur softly, my voice a quiet assurance against the storm he’s been weathering. “You didn’t lose me.”

His breath hitches, and for a moment, he doesn’t speak. He only stares at me, his jaw clenching as if he’s fighting to hold back the flood of emotions threatening to spill over. And when his voice finally breaks the silence, it’s barely a whisper—so quiet, yet so charged with everything he’s been holding in.

“You scared the hell out of me,” he says, his voice low and trembling, the words laden with an intensity that shakes me to the core. His grip on me tightens, and I feel the weight of his heart pressing against mine, raw and unfiltered.

“Don’t,” he cuts me off, his voice sharp but his touch impossibly gentle. “Don’t apologise. Just... just promise me you won’t do something that stupid again. Promise me, Y/N.”

His words slice through the air with a force that makes my chest tighten. There’s a desperation in his tone that I can’t ignore, an unspoken fear that tugs at the deepest part of me. He’s trying so hard to be the brash, no-nonsense Sanemi—the one everyone knows, the one who wears his pride like armour—but here, in this moment, with me, he’s stripped bare, vulnerable and raw in a way I’ve never seen before.

“I promise,” I say, and the weight of the words makes them feel like a vow. I mean it—more than I can even put into words. I won’t put him through that again.

His shoulders sag in visible relief, and for a moment, he just holds me there, his forehead still pressed against mine, grounding me. It feels like time slows, the world outside of this room falling away until there’s nothing left but the two of us—this fragile moment, this fragile promise.

Then, almost as if remembering who he is, he pulls back slightly, his face hardening in the way only Sanemi can. But his hand doesn’t leave my face, his thumb still tracing idle patterns along my skin, a touch so soft it contrasts with his words.

“You’re still an idiot for not calling for backup,” he mutters, the sharpness in his voice still there, but it’s tempered with something softer, something more... tender.

I can’t help but smile at him, the corners of my lips lifting in a small, genuine way. “I’ll call next time,” I promise, the words coming easy now.

His brows furrow in mock frustration, but the softness in his eyes betrays him. “There better not be a next time,” he growls, and despite the threat, there’s a protective warmth in his gaze that melts something inside me.

I laugh weakly, the sound light, but enough to ease something in him. He lets out a breath, low and quiet, like he’s been holding it in for days, and then... he leans down. The pressure of his forehead against mine relieves some of the tension that’s been mounting in his body, but then, as if drawn by some invisible force, he presses his lips—barely a touch, a whisper—against my forehead.

It’s fleeting, a soft, warm caress that holds more weight than any words could. The kiss sends a spark racing through me, igniting something fierce and unrelenting in my chest. The fear, the pain, the exhaustion—it all fades into the background, leaving only one undeniable truth in its place: I almost died without ever telling him how I feel.

I can’t let that happen.

Before I can overthink it, my hand shoots up, fingers curling around his jaw. His eyes widen in surprise, and I see the shift—his guard goes up, just for a second, before I tug him down, closing the space between us. His lips are still warm from the kiss on my forehead, but this time, the kiss is mine to give.

He doesn’t pull away. There’s a hesitation, a moment of shock in his eyes before they soften, and then he’s kissing me back. The world outside of this moment ceases to exist—there’s only the feeling of his lips on mine, the pressure of his body against me, the taste of relief and longing. His hand moves to the back of my head, holding me to him like he’s afraid I’ll slip away if he lets go.

When we finally break apart, my breath is shallow, my heart pounding in my chest as if it’s trying to make up for lost time. His forehead rests against mine again, and I can feel his pulse—rapid, frantic—matching my own.

“You’re... you’re still an idiot,” he whispers, his voice a little more hoarse than before, but there’s something softer in his tone now. Something he hasn’t allowed himself to say, something I can feel through the way his fingers tremble lightly on my skin.

“I know,” I breathe out, my voice shaky. “But I’m your idiot.”

He huffs out something between a laugh and a sigh, his lips quirking into a small, lopsided grin. “Damn right you are.”

The weight of everything we’ve been through lingers in the space between us, heavy but comforting, as if we’re both silently acknowledging the unspoken bond that’s been forged through our shared trials. It’s a quiet understanding—one that only the two of us can fully grasp.

Then, without warning, he leans down again, his lips meeting mine in a kiss that’s softer this time, slower. There’s no rush, no desperation. It’s about something deeper, something more meaningful. Every brush of his lips against mine feels like a confession, a promise of everything he hasn’t been able to say. It’s a tenderness I’ve never seen from him before, and it catches me off guard in the best way.

But, of course, nothing can stay perfect for too long.

Behind us, there’s a faint cough—awkward, yet still loud enough to interrupt. Sanemi jerks back slightly, his body stiffening as he glares over his shoulder, his face flushing an impressive shade of red. Mitsuri stands a few feet away, her hands pressed against her flushed cheeks, eyes wide with an excitement she’s struggling to contain.

“I—sorry!” she squeaks, her voice high-pitched and practically vibrating with excitement. “I didn’t mean to interrupt! I just—um—should I get Shinobu?”

Sanemi’s scowl is quick to return, but the harshness of his usual tone is absent, replaced by something softer, more resigned. “Go!” he barks, though his voice is far from venomous. The slight embarrassment in his eyes gives away his true feelings. “Just... go.”

Mitsuri, clearly trying not to burst out laughing, nods eagerly before darting off, her excited giggles trailing behind her like a whirlwind. I bite back my own laughter, my hand still resting gently on Sanemi’s face as I meet his gaze again.

The shift in energy is palpable. What had been a tender, quiet moment now feels lighter, more relaxed, even though a faint blush still colours his cheeks. Sanemi’s scowl softens as soon as he looks at me, and I can see the weight of his emotions finally beginning to settle.

“We’re going to talk about this,” he says, his voice firm, though there’s no anger behind the words—just an undeniable sense of care.

I can’t help but smile, the corners of my lips twitching up as I stare at him. “About what? The fact that I’m still breathing?”

His eyes narrow in mock suspicion, and I can see the mix of affection and frustration swirling in them. “Don’t push your luck,” he mutters, though there’s a spark of amusement dancing in his gaze.

“I’m serious,” I tease, my fingers gently tracing the outline of his jaw. “I’m not going anywhere, Sanemi. Not now. Not ever.”

His expression softens again, and for a moment, it’s like the world outside of this room has stopped spinning. It’s just the two of us, wrapped in the aftermath of everything we’ve survived and everything we’ve yet to face. The unspoken words between us are more powerful than any argument or confession could ever be.

He finally gives a small nod, his thumb brushing across my cheek. “I know,” he says quietly. “I just... I wasn’t ready for it. But I’ll get used to it, I guess.”

I laugh softly, the sound light and free. “Good,” I say, my voice full of affection. “Because I’m not planning on going anywhere either.”

Demon Slayer Masterlist To be made TAG LIST - updated 12th Oct 2024

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heartfullofleeches · 9 months ago

Note

Fletchers reaction to foxboy willingly kissing him for the first time

Yan Farmer Rabbit + Fox Hybrid Reader

[Reader has no mentioned gender but they are referred to as wife]

"Damn it!"

The knife clatters to the kitchen floor with a dull thud. Chest heaving with each pain breath, you fall to your knees - shirt clutched painfully tight in your claws as wetness drips down your cheeks.

Three weeks... Three weeks you've lived with the farmer and he hasn't asked you to lift a finger. This is it.... isn't it? It's finally happening. You were a such an idiot to think it wouldn't. He's testing you... A trial to see how useful you'll be to him in the long run.

"Hey, Sweetness. Something came up down at the general store. Shouldn't be gone long, but- think you can cut up the potatoes for dinner while I'm out? It's not hard. I'll show you how to do it."

He made it look so easy. Each slice against the cutting board so neat, precise - perfect. Just like him. What does he want from you? Does he actually think you'll make for a good partner? You can't even cut up vegetables to save your own tail- Just what the hell does he want from you?!

"Hun? That you?"

Shit. "Fuck, fuck, fuck-"

You wipe at your eyes with the backs of your palms, scrambling to pick yourself off the floor before he sees you. He can't see you like this- The thunder of his footsteps fills you with a kind of terror you haven't felt since you got locked in that kitchen coop.

"Y/n?"

Your back hits the cupboard wall. Fletcher's large, imposing figure hovers at the door frame. Two steps into the kitchen is all it takes for him to march up to the table. To see your mistakes. Too thick. Too thin. Sliced indiead of cubed like he asked. The farmer takes a breath. He kneels down in front of you, hand perched on the tile a hairline away from your shivering legs.

"Hon-"

"Don't-" You bite. "Just don't..... I missed up. I always do. Why do you even want me here? I can't do anything right... I'm a terrible wife."

"Hey!-" Fletcher grips your shoulder, tugging you against his chest. "Don't you ever, ever talk about yourself like that. You're fine. It's okay. All you need is a little practice. Just calm down."

Liar- He's a fucking liar. "What if I don't get better with practice?! What if all I ever am to you is dead weight?"

Fletcher kisses the top of your head, voice small - crushed by the sounds of your sobs against his chest. "That's fine with me too, Sweetheart.... That's fine with me too. I didn't bring you here because I wanted a maid. I just wanted you. That's all I have ever wanted since I laid eyes on you. I love you- Always have, always will."

His hold on you lessens as your whines and sniffles crawl to a still. Your puffy eyes cross his as you lift your head from his chest. He tries to smile - delicately raising his enormous paw to the fuzzy flesh of your cheek. He rests his nose against yours - just like he always did when he was trying to comfort you or feel a connection, lips inches from yours.

"Whether you can dice up a thousand potatoes or not at all. Even if you make a mess of everything you touch. I'll always be here for you no matter what. I'll always love you - no matter what."

Your arms creep up to his neck, the space between you null as your lips ghost over his. Fletcher stiffens, unsure - fearful of scaring you off now if he takes the dive for you. And so you take it-

The kiss is hesitant. Gentle as the hand stroking at your back, washing away any doubts left of his conviction towards you. Tear drops fall at your skin, but you have none more to cry. Is he?... You pull away as the droplets drip from Fletcher's chin into his already stained tee.

"My bad." The farmer barks out a dry chuckle, pinching the bridge of his nose in an attempt to stop the flow. "Now's not the time to get emotional, but I just- I'm so glad to have you here. With me."

"I know... I'm glad to be here too now, but um... Fetch?"

"Yeah?"

Your ears lay flat against your skull as your stomach whines in hunger. "Can we... finish up with dinner now?"

The laugh Fletcher bellows is far less restrained. "Sure. What kind of man would I be if I let my wife starve? I'll tell you some more tricks will we're at it. You'll be a head chef in no time, sweetheart.... And even if you aren't - I'll cherish you all the same."

#Fletcher my oc #yandere oc #yandere imagines #yandere headcanons #yandere x you #yandere insert #yandere x reader #yandere scenarios #male yandere #yandere blurb #yandere #yandere fluff #yandere farmer #Yandere hybrid

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luveline · 10 months ago

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hello my love!! could you maybe show us what bedtime is like in the kbd universe? thank you, you’re incredible <3

kbd —dad!steve and mom!reader get their small family ready for bed. 3k

“She looks so pretty,” Avery whispers.

Steve struggles to pull the hem of his sock over his ankle, crossing his legs to match her as she snaps an apple slice in half with her fingers, the juice wetting her pyjama top, her torso swaying as his knee bumps into hers. “Who?” Steve asks, blinking.

“Wren,” Avery says, leaning back to let Steve see the baby where she’s napping in her bouncer. Avery shoves a chunk of apple in her mouth. “She’s pw-ery.”

“Try not to talk with your mouth full, you might choke.”

Avery nods, closing her mouth to chew up the rest of her food with chipmunk cheeks.

Steve draws a little heart into her knee. She has a bruise from falling up the stairs a few days ago like a purple ink blot just under her kneecap, but she hasn’t complained. She didn’t cry when she fell, she just got back up and asked for a Capri-Sun. Steve’s surprised she’s so hardy, but she’s getting older. He’d sort of been hoping she’d want him to kiss it better.

“She’s pretty like her big sister,” he says.

“I’m glad she’s stopped crying all the time.”

“Me too.” He takes one of the smaller slices from her plate to eat, wiping juice from her cheek as he does.

She grins. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. You all done?”

“Yep.”

“Not hungry anymore?”

“Nope.” She grabs her plate before he can. “I’ll put it in the sink.”

“Thanks, beautiful.”

She jumps up with her empty plate and does a spin, saying, “Who, me?”

Steve laughs like an idiot, still chuckling to himself as the sound of her plate hitting the kitchen sink reaches his ears. Wren, finally out of her sleep regression (for now), doesn’t wake. All good signs of a good night.

Steve lets his head fall back onto little legs. “What about you?” he asks Dove, the second youngest daughter, where she sits behind him on the couch.

She hums under her breath, her hands quick to weave into his hair, petting it away from his face. He waits for an answer he doesn’t get, closing his eyes and turning his face into her knee. Her giggles are treacle sweet. “Don’t sleep,” she protests.

“I’m tired.”

“It’s not bed time.”

She’s not gonna like what Steve’s about to tell her, if that’s the case. She had a screaming tantrum last night about bed time where she threw herself on the floor and whacked her hands until her palms turned bright red. He’s not wanting a repeat.

“It is bed time,” he says gently, though it’s not for another half an hour, “but, I was thinking, because you’ve been so good today you’d stay up extra. Maybe even have hot cocoa before bed.” Steve turns to meet her eyes. “How’s that sound?”

“Really?” she asks, her eyes blowing wide with excitement. Steve is starting to wonder if she’s not as mini-me as he used to think, growing into sweeter features as she leaves the baby-toddler stage and starts to look like a kid. He loves it.

“That sound fun or what?”

She dives at him. He has enough sense to have twisted and catches her before she can break any of his teeth. “You are the best daddy ever!” she declares seriously, almost tipping over his shoulder.

He lets her dangle for a second, then yanks her back topside. “You’re my best girl, that’s why. Let’s go make the drinks. Actually, we better go see who else wants some.”

You and Bethie are attempting some last minute crafts at the dining table, and you’re very interested in hot chocolate but Beth doesn’t like it and so, doesn’t want any. She does seem interested in a glass of milk with a couple of chocolate chip cookies, so it’s nearly the same thing. “Careful,” he says, putting the half a pint of milk down in front of her birdhouse cautiously, “you don’t wanna spill that, baby.”

“Who says she’s gonna spill it?” you ask.

“Don’t start with me,” Steve warns.

You smile to yourself. You’ve a spatula for PVA glue in your hand, skins of glue dried to your fingertips flecked with splinters of wood. Lollipop crafts felt like a good idea when he’d suggested it, but then he didn’t actually want to do it, and you’d been kind enough to step in. I’m sick of mess, he’d confided.

Well, you’d said, somewhere between a quick kiss pressed to his shoulder and your hand rubbing it away, you probably shouldn’t have asked me to have so many kids.

I love mess, he’d corrected immediately. Love to make more of it someday.

“We’re nearly done in time for bed,” you assure him now.

“I told Dove she could have an extra half an hour.” He winks at you clumsily.

“Oh, really? Well, maybe Beth and Avery should get some extra time too.”

Beth dunks her cookie into the top of her cup. “No thanks. I’m tired. Can I sleep with Avery again?” she asks, milk dribbling down the sides of the glass to darken the coaster underneath.

“You’ll have to ask her yourself,” Steve says. “Wait, where is she? I thought she was in here.” Something grabs him by the legs, a sudden clutching that activates a heat in his eyes and spine he can’t explain. He flinches sideways into a cabinet and almost steps on a rather small limb. “What the fuck.”

“Boo!” Avery says, laughing brightly as Steve rights himself on the counter.

“Avery! Did I step on you? I’m sorry,” he says, immediately bending down. “What were you thinking? I could’ve really hurt you!”

“Daaad, I was just pulling a prank,” she says.

He checks over the arm he was so sure he’d stepped on. “You okay?”

“She’s fine,” you say. “Yeah?”

“I’m fine!” She hugs his legs again. “You said a super bad word.”

He was hoping everybody missed that. “Dove–”

“Dad,” Dove interrupts, kicking her little feet exactly where he left her sitting on the dinner table by your left, “bad words make me cry.” She says it all clunky and clumsy, having heard it enough times. Her Aunt Robin has a potty-mouthed girlfriend, and Steve can’t do damage control quick enough sometimes.

“No, it’s when you say bad words daddy cries,” Avery says.

“I didn’t say one!”

“I know! I just mean it’s not when dad says it.”

“What?” Dove asks. “He did says it.”

You’re grinning. You love when Dove confuses herself, all kids go through it, where half the time they don’t know what they’re saying until you help them along, but you love Dove’s new phase especially because she’s always been so serious. “What Avery is telling you, baby, is that daddy doesn’t get upset when he says bad words because he’s a grown up.”

“So when we’re older we can cuss too?” Bethie asks.

Steve’s jaw drops. “No, Beth! No, none of you need to say bad words, and I don’t either, and I’m really sorry. Can we forget about it?”

Steve makes hot chocolate and helps you clean the sorry mess you’ve made on the table, and, after some light teasing, everybody forgets he’d reacted so violently to Avery’s surprise. Well, almost. Dove is the first to succumb to a case of the sleepies despite being otherwise reluctant to give in, sitting on his thigh, marshmallows still whole in her drink. She’d barely managed four sips.

Steve cuddles her to his chest, covering her ear where she nuzzles against him from the sounds of your and Avery’s giggling. “He went pale,” you’re saying.

Beth offers Steve half of one of her cookies. “You didn’t,” she says.

If he didn’t have his arms full of Dove he’d scoop her up. “Thank you, Beth. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“Alright,” you say, twining your fingers and sliding them behind your head, your neck and back clicking audibly in the quiet of the Harrington house winding down, “I think it’s bedtime. Are you done with your drink?”

You rinse the cups. Steve ferries Dove upstairs, has her down and tucked in in record time, soon enough to catch you as you and the rest of the girls make your way upstairs. Beth and Avery are beautifully silent, weary of their sensitive baby sister where she’s cradled to your chest.

You attempt to put her down in her crib in your room, but Steve gets the feeling you aren’t successful when a crackly cry breaks out.

“Oh, no,” Avery says.

“It’s fine. Let’s go brush our teeth, okay? Mommy has it.”

They brush their teeth. Steve wipes their faces down with a damp hand towel and has a moment of gratitude just touching their faces. They both look so loved, the way their eyes crinkle, the way they lift their chins, all too happy for Steve to do it. He loves these moments of being a dad most, he might say, second only to getting to talk to them, especially now they’re both holding conversation. They talk to each other none stop; Beth talks to Avery ten times as much as she does anyone else.

“Are you having a sleepover again?” Steve asks.

Beth turns to Avery pleasingly. “Can I? Please, please, please.”

“Yes!” Avery says, big sister extraordinaire. She wraps her arms around Beth’s shoulders, taller, more aware of herself as she presses her cheek to Beth’s and mumbles, “Of course you can. I love you. I want us to have sleepovers every night.”

You emerge from the bedroom victorious, heading into the bathroom as he and the girls come out. “I’m just gonna brush my teeth,” you say.

“Gonna get Beth changed.”

“Okay, I put her nightie on the foot of her bed earlier.”

It’s routine but not without enjoyment. He makes sure they’re both comfortable in the night's sleepwear and takes care of their hair, before giving Avery’s room a quick half-clean and shaking out the sheets on her bed. Avery has the second biggest bedroom, though Bethie’s is nothing to turn your nose up at, and it gets Steve thinking as they climb up into Avery’s single bed.

“I think it’s good for you guys to keep your separate rooms for now,” Steve says tentatively, “but what do you think about sharing?”

The plan was that Dove and Wren would share, but if Avery and Beth are getting along so well, it might not hurt to ask.

Beth gasps. “Our bedrooms?”

“Like, you and Avery could both sleep in here. You have a bunk bed, or we could get you a big one to share, and you could share teddies.”

“I don’t want to share my teddies,” Avery says.

“Well, you don’t have to. I’m not gonna make you.” Steve squints at them both. “Bad idea?”

“I want to share,” Beth says immediately.

Avery has a better understanding of what that will mean. “Maybe.”

“You don’t have to,” Steve says. “Your rooms are yours, okay? Maybe we can just get you a bigger bed anyways, Ave. You’re so tall now, in a couple of years you’ll be ten feet tall and we’ll have to bend you in half to get you to school.”

This is the funniest thing a man could say, apparently —both Beth and Avery burst into girly giggles that ring down the landing. Beth sounds like she might be sick. She laughs so much, falling into Avery’s side as her big sister says, “Dad, that’s silly!”

“I can show you, if you want. We’ll practise making you into an Avery flavour pretzel, c’mere.”

She squeals and climbs over Beth’s legs to huddle in the corner of her bed. Steve doesn’t so much as touch her legs and she’s laughing again, panicked, hyper laughter like she can’t decide if she wants to be folded or not. He presses his finger over his smile. “Shh, shh, we can’t wake the babies.”

“Sorry,” she laughs.

“My fault. Don’t be sorry.” He gives her leg a squeeze. “How about we start to tuck you in, girls? Do we have everything we need?”

Beth wants a few things from her own bed, but besides that, they’re ready. Well, they’re supposed to be ready, but Steve wound them up and it’s his own fault, he can’t even complain when they beg him to watch a movie. What’s the harm? he decides, turning on Avery’s TV and pushing their favourite tape into the VHS player.

“The effect FernGully has on the new generation is amazing,” you say, wiping your eyes. You’ve changed into pyjama pants Steve’s sure you’ve had since you met him and a tank top with straps falling down your shoulders. He wants to pull them back over the curve of your shoulder, but he’s trying to be less smothering.

He fluffs the pillows behind the girls’ backs. “It’s the boy. What’s his name? Dennis? Daniel?”

“Neither.” You put a fallen teddy back on the bed and turn on Avery’s star-shaped night light before flicking off the big light above. The TV glows green on their legs.

“Gonna lie down?” Steve says, gentler now, easing them in.

Avery flops back. Beth curls in on her side, and it reminds Steve of you and him. He can sleep any which way. You’re slightly more particular, but you’re happier curled on to him. He really loves how close they are as sisters, and he has to give Avery some credit, because while Beth is exceedingly easy to love, she’s a clinger, she worships her big sister, which must get heavy from time to time.

Avery pulls the blankets up over them before Steve can do it himself. He sighs, tucking them both in. Blankets pushed gently under their sides, hair brushed back from their little faces, he says, “Love you, Ave. Love you, Beth,” kissing their foreheads in swift succession. “I’ll see you in the morning, okay?”

“Love you, daddy,” they say at the same time.

You touch his arm gently before leaning in for your own kisses. You’re slower than he’d been, turning their faces in your hand one after the other to place identical kisses on their cheeks. “Love you, sweetheart,” you say to Avery, and, “Love you, baby,” you say to Beth. Steve holds your back as you do. “Have good dreams, okay? And don’t mess with the TV. One movie tonight is enough, you’ll wake up with sore eyes.”

He steals another kiss from both of them and then you’re closing the door behind you, the house much darker and quieter than it had been only ten minutes previous.

“You want a glass of water?” Steve says.

You catch his hand. “I got you one.”

Neither you nor Steve bother with anything but bed. He draws back the blankets and you climb in, only stopping momentarily to make sure that Wren’s alright in her crib. You curl in the middle of the bed and wait for Steve to force his way beneath you, which he does, your face resting on his shoulder, your leg stretched across his. Your hip is a lump in the blankets. He lets his hand fall atop it, whistling a tired breath through his teeth.

“Mm,” you agree, stretching out, curling in tighter.

“I know,” he says. Can’t forget his best girl, can’t not think about how much he loves you when it’s you and him alone. Mostly. “You alright?”

“Fine. Tireder than I thought.” Your eyes close, lashes brushing his chest. “H?”

“What?”

“You okay?”

“Fine, honey. Was just asking you,” he mumbles. His pillow feels like a cloud beneath his head, the mattress even better, and the sheets are a brushed cotton that’s amazingly soft on his skin.

He turns his nose down onto you for a not so secret sniff.

“Feels too good to be true.”

“My turn tonight,” he says.

“No, baby, it’s my turn.”

“That’s fine.” He’s not as tired as you, or at least not half as achy. If Wren wakes up crying (not definitely going to happen) or Dove has a late night startle (even less likely, though not impossible), he’ll take the burden tonight. “I wanted babies and I got ‘em.”

“I want them too,” you say.

“Of course you do,” he says, rubbing your forehead with the tip of his nose affectionately. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Less when they wake me up,” you joke.

Steve feels up your side to your shoulder for a sleepy cuddle. You don’t realise how soft you can be, how warm you are pressed against him like this, how grateful he is to hold you. Maybe you can read his mind, or maybe as just pure evidence of such a feat, you cup his upper arm in your hand and begin to draw shapes over his skin, breaking the pattern with fleeting scratches. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah, honey. I’m sure. You go to sleep now, okay? It’s Saturday tomorrow,” he whispers tenderly. “You don’t have anywhere to be.”

“‘Cept here,” you whisper back.

“Love you.” A brush of his lips to your eyebrow. “Goodnight, sweetheart.”

“I love you.”

“I love you,” he says. He swears he’s gonna stay up for a bit and count your eyelashes or something, maybe pen you a love poem, write a note about your lips and how they pout when you’re nearly sleeping, but he forgets to when you press your face into the curve of his neck and kiss it clumsily. You fall asleep at the same time, the girls laughing in whispers just a few feet away behind the wall.

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fuckmysuguru · 4 months ago

Text

Breaking the bed w; — Satoru Gojo !

18+ — drabble! smut, spit play, title! ♡.

Anya’s entries: I wrote this to celebrate I got 100 on my economics exam.

The large bed creaks under your combined weight, Satoru hovers above you, one hand holding your face, pushing it down against the pillow while the other grips the wooden headboard, his white teeth scrapping his lower lip. “That’s it, mama,” He pants, exhaling loudly. “Scream my name.”

Arching your back, your nails rake down his back, making him hiss, his pale skin decorated with red lines that won’t fade til next week. Satoru chuckles, squeezing your cheeks and twisting your neck so you meet his blue eyes. His large palm palms your cheek, a silent command. Hending his head slightly, he smiles as you open your mouth and stick your tongue out, your pretty eyes rolling back as he spits directly into your mouth.

“Good girl,” He praises, letting go of your face to grip your waist. “You gonna ruin my sheets with this wet pussy.”

“Shut up!” You yelp, embarrassed yet incredibly turned on. It’s true though; the lewd squelch of your walls swallowing his cock bounce off the walls, almost straight out of a cheap porno.

Satoru doesn’t seem to care, if any, he fucks you harder, ramming into your slick depths with a new resolve— see how long can you take it. Ignoring the loud creaking of the bed, his fingers squeeze the wood harder, creating soft indents on the material. The headboard slams against the wall with every push of his hips, pillows falling and moans increasing.

“Lift your legs, baby,” He requests, nodding in approval as you hook your arms under your thighs and lift them, struggling to keep up with his relentless fucking. “That’s it, fuck— can’t you get enough of my cock? I just feel you getting wetter. Your pretty little pussy is so hungry for me, just like always—”

Suddenly, the bed gives up; the wooden base collapsing and hitting the floor. A high-pitched scream escapes your lips, eyes widening with surprise— meanwhile Satoru bursts into laughter. He fucking broke the bed. Huffing, you slap his shoulder gently. “You are an idiot. We got this bed a week ago.”

Rolling his eyes, Satoru holds your knees, spreading your legs further and leaning down, his swollen lips brushing against your neck. “Stop complaining. I’ll buy another one, now… you need to make me cum, angel.”

#𓆩⟡𓆪 anya writes!#satoru gojo #satoru gojo smut #satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo x reader smut #satoru gojo x you #satoru gojo x y/n #satoru smut #satoru x reader #satoru x you #satoru x y/n #gojo x reader smut #gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo x y/n

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mischiefmaker615 · 1 year ago

Text

Touch-Starved

Rating: R

Summary: How long is to long for Loki when he can't hold himself back anymore?

Requester: @Laer111ee (wattpad)

Loki’s hands slowly glided along his thighs as he fought to hide his anxiousness. The scent of you was alluring, your body heat close enough to feel and your delicate laugh as a comical scene played out amongst the television was reason alone to have a grin tug at his lips.

Friends. Just friends. He had thought his flirtations and gentleman acts here and there would be enough to have you in his arms by now, but that just.. wasn’t the case. If anything, your shy and nervous reactions would send you trying to avoid him any chance you had. He knew, you knew. He liked you, you liked him. he wished to advance, you would blush and nervously retreat. Was he being to strong? Its not like he was being as cocky and annoying as Tony Stark.. and yet that iron idiot had women in his bed practically every night.

Was he not understanding something in this Midgardian life amongst the tower? The limited quarters perhaps not giving him enough chances to work on this relationship? Questions ran rapid in his head where most of the time he would find himself zoning in thought; not that he cared for any conversation the heroes would have before him. of course his attention would always come to when you would begin speaking.

His finger tips tingled, aching to touch you, to feel your smooth skin, to feel your silky hair, to feel your luscious lips, to taste your dripping c-

‘’where’d the remote go?’’

His thoughts snapped as he blinked and realized the credits were already playing through and he found you shifting in your seat beside him to find the control device.

‘’um.. perhaps it’s fallen somewhere?’’ he offered as he began to shift as well, finding no remote at his sides as his eyes watched you get up.

‘’it probably just dropped between the cushions like last time,’’ you sigh and get to your knees as you look under the couch for the remote.

Loki’s eyes instantly glued themselves to your back line that arched perfectly, a perfect display in your crop top. Your jean shorts framing your perfect ass as he found himself leaning a bit forward, licking his lips as he prayed for one taste of your fresh. By the time you sat up on your heels, he had quickly leaned back and eyed anywhere else as if he had continued to search.

‘’found it’’ you proudly annoyance with a smile and set it on the table. ‘’so what did you think?’’ you ask, resting an arm on the couch as you found your new position strangely comfortable enough where you didn’t sit beside him, rather looked up at him from where you were now.

Gods what he’d give to see her kneeling beside him like that every day of his life..

‘’it was quite.. interesting, though I’m unsure on why they gave up trying to reposition on the floating wreckage, do humans give up so easily?’’

‘’some do, but the smart ones would have done a lot of things differently. But if you get to annoyed, at least the characters themselves aren’t real. Just the unfortunate accident.’’ You sigh and rest your chin in your palm as your other hand rested on your thigh, your eyes gazing a little at him and not just his eyes slowly.

‘’accident? Weren’t those sailors distracted? It was out of poor negligence that cost the lives of thousands.’’ Loki scoffed, accidently showing how much he really was paying attention to the movie. Her slight roaming eyes had him hush his other comments and slowly raised a brow. ‘’you’ve only had one glass of wine didn’t you?’’

You merely waved your hand with a slight laugh. ‘’yeah but my tolerance kind of lowered after awhile, if anything it just puts me in a relaxed-feel good mood’’

The opportunity seemed to present itself as Loki leaned forward and rested his arms on his knees, his face a bit closer to yours as your demeanor started to slowly change into your cute, shy state. ‘’is that why you chose to sit next to me on the couch and not on the other side?’’

As much as he loved to tease you, perhaps this is exactly why you shyed away from him. he did this to himself.. despite it being his nature. If he could be straight forward with you, he would.. but he supposed he strayed away from that just as much as you shyed away.

Your cheeks reddened as he got closer and your eye contact faltered. ‘’..n-no it’s just.. better to see the tv at this angle’’ you lied, feeling stupid considering who were lying too as he grinned.

‘’I thought you’ve seen this movie a thousand times, as you said’’ his voice got noticeably lower, almost as if that alone would help you give him eye contact again as his hand began to ache. It was quite difficult resisting the urge to turn your face so you looked at him, the thought of your smooth chin on his finger pad made something ache as well.

‘’well-‘’

Just as you were about to speak, your phone buzzed and you were quick to pick it up. ‘’I’m sorry I have to take this-‘’ you said quickly and scooted back to your feet and left the room.

His first thought was to have you forget the phone, it could wait, but the name on the screen showed it was your mother and he knew better than to get in-between that. His eyes merely watched you leave and he sighed to himself. He would take any chance he could get with you, but things weren’t looking good in other departments.

Take what he could get.. what a silly sentence. Grateful as he was, he was practically being starved and teased at every mere movement of you. Thought, scent and sight.

He would walk close enough or pass by for your arms to brush up against each other. Drop things and pick them up at the same time so your hands would touch briefly. Sit or lean close enough to take in that scent he loved so much. As much as he hated being stuck in cramped cars, he was blessed enough for the close seats in the back you got together. It wasn’t enough..

You moved along the halls towards your room, having come back from a boring Avenger’s meeting that probably could have been emailed. As you entered your room, you took a few steps in to set your notebook down on your desk but noticed your door didn’t click shut when you had lightly swung the door. Grumbling, you go back to close it only to get startled when a hand landed on the back and prevented you from closing it.

A step back was your first move but only allowed the unknown being to open the door wider and revealed it to be Loki. A sigh left your lips in slight relief but your eyes turned in concern.

‘’I thought you were still in the meeting room, everything okay?’’

‘’we need to talk.’’ He said, not angry but scary calm as he took a step forward and closed the door inside. ‘’you’ve been avoiding me.’’

You played dumb as you glanced away. ‘’no- it’s just been busy.. we watched a movie though-‘’

‘’last week.’’ He said and took a step closer as she took a slight step back.

‘’Loki I don’t-‘’

‘’am I doing something wrong?’’

The concern in his voice had your eyes move to his in a second and you took a breath. ‘’..about what?’’

‘’I’m afraid I’m not to well adverse with Midgardian techniques but.. I’m afraid my advances only drive you away..’’ he said with a sigh, a deep one as the pressure off his mind finally could come to a close.

This had you shuck in a breath as your body stilled. Loki just admitted.. he liked you.. he liked you! you blinked at him almost as if to make sure he was really there and after a moment of him starring at you with a breath being taken in deeply, your cheeks reddened and you looked away.

‘’..you aren’t doing anything wrong Loki-.. I have feelings for you as well..’’ you voice was practically a whisper but he heard you perfectly fine and your eyes returned to make sure he was still breathing.

His lips parted but no words came out, staring at you as you had to him as he shifted in stance. ‘’then.. why avoid me?’’

You bit your lip, unable to admit that it was because your shy, that you are afraid to mess this up, to possibly lose a friendship, unsure how to go about the next steps. It was almost speaking through your eyes as your gaze slowly made its way back to his.. those gentle blue eyes with a smile almost giving the same sensation as a comforting hug would.

‘’I see.. I am to darling, but with the now freed information leaving our bodies, you have to admit you feel a little bit better, don’t you?’’ he asked, his voice just as low as yours as he slowly started to take steps towards you.

Your body stayed still, your hands and fingers almost twiddling as you didn’t know what to do with them. Your gaze held with his, holding it as he stepped close enough for your shoes to touch. Your body shook, not completely out of shyness.. but with anticipation.

‘’Y/n..’’ he asked, his hands in loose fists at his sides as he looked down at you, your heights making themselves known.

‘’yes?..’’ you whisper.

‘’I can practically smell your alluring anticipation.. I dare say you are just as desperate as I right now?’’ he asked with a whisper and your cheeks reddened.

Even with your rooms dim lighting you knew he could see your reddened cheeks and the shame in your eyes at the truth as your fingers began to tingle, feeling the strong urge to touch him.. to smell him.. his silky locks through your fingers.. skin against yours.. his hardened-

The feeling of his lips were enough to snap you out of your thoughts as he kissed you. your body was quick to participate as you kissed him with need and he kissed you with desperation. Your fingers tangled themselves in his hair, your suspicions being true as just how soft it really was. Your bodies pressed up against each other as he gripped your hips, bringing them closer to his own as your throbbing cunt felt his hardened length.

He backed you up until you feel backwards on the bed, Loki following in hot pursuit as your lips rarely left his own. His fingers laced with yours as he pinned them beside your head, his lips moving to your cheeks and jawline while you moaned with pleasure.

‘’of gods.. you are everything I dreamed you would be and more..’’ he breathed as he left open mouth kisses against your skin down your neck.

You bit your lip but your moans couldn’t stay quiet as goosebumps spread against your skin and you squirmed with need beneath him as he pressed his body down against yours. Gods you both practically moaned at how well you fit against each other like a glove.

‘’please..’’ you whimpered as your wrists tried to pull themselves from his hands to grip onto them, but against a god’s strength it was obviously useless. Though Loki seemed to enjoy your pleads as a grin spread across his lips and kissed below your ear where you were ticklish.

‘’you wish for me to touch you more? Perhaps.. elsewhere?’’ he whispered, his voice almost a growl as you fought beneath him.

You gave a shy nod as you whimpered but he nipped your skin delicately with his teeth.

‘’use your words darling..’’

‘’p-please.. touch me Loki..’’ you whimper, back arching against him as he sat up with a smirk.

‘’good girl..’’ he praised before he pulled your wrists up gently so you sat up.

Just before your hands could go to run themselves against him, his grip was at the end of your shirt and it was up and off before you could even blink. You had on a sexy black bra on as your hair fell down behind you, hands gripping his own shirt before he chuckled and removed it. your eyes widened at how toned he was, wasting no time to run your hands against his skin with your lips caressing his chest.

His hands gripped your hips while his cock pushed against you practically through his pants. You knew he could feel how wet you were even through your pants and you shifted with need as your fingers gripped his shoulders.

‘’P-ple-‘’

‘’patience darling, you’ve made me wait a very long time after all’’ he smirked before your wrists seemed to have some invisible force wrap around them before you were back being pinned against the mattress with Loki not even laying a finger on you.

Magic.

‘’no fair-‘’ you whined as he leaned back down to capture your lips with his own again, his tongue rewarding you for ceasing your fight as your own massaged his.

His lips slowly moved down again, kissing your cleavage as his hands ran up and down your sides with a soft grip here and there. ‘’hold very still darling..’’ he whispered as you lifted your head to see exactly his next move.

Just as you exhaled, you heard a snap and the pressure of your bra loosened as his dagger could be seen vanishing through thin air. Apparently, he had cut down the middle of your bra and his hands moved to cup each one. ‘’I’ll purchase you a new one..’’ he groaned as his eyes fluttered closed at how good your globes felt in his hands.

Your head fell back as you closed your eyes with a pleasured sigh, your body raising against his hands with need as he gripped and massaged. The feeling of his mouth on one made your eyes open against with a bit of your lip while your cheeks reddened at the lewd act. You felt his hand play with your other breast as he pinched at your nipple while his mouth sucked and his tongue flicked your other.

Gods she was like a dream.. as if her personality wasn’t enough, her body was matched exquisitely..

He never felt more blessed than with the one he loved before him, heart to heart and passion to passion. If he had been doing all this right all along and you had just been shying away because of the newness of it all, than he’d have too take things slow to now overwhelm you. would this mean you’d both become partners? Boyfriend and girlfriend as the Midgardians called it.. feelings were mutual so there’d be without a doubt a connect following after this one and he couldn’t wait to continue studying your mind and heart as passionately as he would your body tonight..

His mouth and hand switched places and by the passing time he had you practically a panting mess. Your wrists pulled at his magic but it remained intact as your legs tried to close, just to grip his waist. His fingers played with your zipper now of your pants and he raised his body up now to pay close attention to what he was about to do.

‘’I plan to worship you tonight darling, all of you, every single inch. i will be slow and gentle and by then when I have you a panting mess, we’ll see just how red those cheeks can be..’’ he teased with a grip as they began to redden already while his fingers gripped your pants and pulled them off as he stood before you.

You laid out before him like a feast as he eyed you hungrily, his gaze alone making you squirm as your fists clenched. ‘’touch me Loki.. I cant wait any longer..’’ you begged, your voice needy and desperate and music to his ears as his hands ran slowly up your slender legs and thighs until they came to grip your matching, silky panties.

‘’as the goddess demands’’ he whispers and slowly pulls them off of you as his eyes took hold of your glistening cunt. The mere sight made him slowly drop to his knees and breathed out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. ‘’darling.. you look absolutely magnificent for me.. all for me and only me..’’ his voice darkened as he reached and gripped your hips, pulling you forward just enough so you were close to the edge of the bed and he moved your legs over his strong shoulders.

His body was shaking, shaking with need, excitement, fulfillment.. pleasure.. he had been waiting for this for so long, for her love, her touch, the truth and now that they both knew were they stood, his heart couldn’t have settled if he wanted it too.

Your own body was shaking with the same desire and connection. You weren’t a virgin, but.. love was different for everyone, no matter how many partners. Your cheeks were red by your exposure, but your body and heart wanted this, so you made no negative movements as your body began to relax by how he gazed upon you.

‘’I want nothing more tonight than to worship you Y/n.. let me please you..’’ he whispered before he slowly gave you one stoke with his tongue that made you shiver, take a breath and for your mind to practically freeze with no thought, just feeling.

There was no room for thoughts as all you could do was feel as his tongue glided slowly up and down against your cunt. He was savoring, testing our reactions, enjoying every single moment of this as you lay helpless and at his mercy. Your fingers gripped the sheets beneath you and your legs shook upon his shoulders.

His fingers kept your folds parted as his tongue lapped while his other hand gripped and rubbed your thigh. Every so often he would leave open mouth kisses against your clit, almost sending an electrifying jolt through your body as you eased into his pleasures. He then proceeded to suck on your clit, having you gasp as he flicked his tongue and felt him grin against you at how well your body reacted to him.

Your back was arching as the pleasure was building inside of you and the way he was moaning was sending vibrations through you that just heightened everything that was building. Your hips would buck slightly now and again, Loki holding firm against you to keep you from moving away or closing your legs out of pure reaction.

You began to pant and his administrations began to get a bit faster, despite how he wished to keep you on edge for as long as he wished to keep this moment going.. but not tonight. There was going to be no teasing, you’ve both waited for each other long enough.

He slowly inserted one of his long digits into your pussy, curling it and stroking in the same rhythm as his mouth as he worked you into a panting mess. He wanted you wishing for more and denied you any more fingers so you’d soon be begging for his cock instead. His poor member was straining against his pants as he ignored it and sped up his work between your legs as your hands flew to his hair and gripped.

Your body erupted into pleasure as your orgasm ripped through your whole body. Your cunt clenched and fluttered around his finger as he slowed but didn’t stop his tongue nor his digit as you moaned his name repeatedly that imitated music to his ears.

Pleasure flowed through you as he helped you ride out your wave and despite your whining, slowed down all together as he lifted his head finally to let you catch your breath. His smile was everything you could ever want to see in this world and he wasted none of your essence from his face or his hand as he lapped it up with a grin.

‘’you are absolutely wonderful darling,’’ he breathed and stood to lean down to capture your lips in a gentle kiss.

‘’we’ve waited to long..’’ you breathed with a small grin as he chuckled above you.

‘’and we shall waste no more time,’’ he grinned and his hand gently pushed you back down on the bed from your chest at your attempt to sit up. ‘’ah ah ah darling, I’m not finished yet’’ he tsked and sank back to his knees between your legs again, your body already shaking with anticipation as he smirked up at you.

‘’I know you can give me a few more this way.’’

#loki x reader smut #loki odinson #loki fluff #loki god of mischief #loki laufeyson #loki x reader #loki smut #loki #loki fanfic #lokifluff

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sugarcoatedstarkey · 1 year ago

Note

for request ⊹ maybe someone makes a comment about how reader looks so rafe shows her just how beautiful he thinks she is.

I hope this was what you were wanting 🖤 thank you for requesting!

Beauitful -

warnings - people calling reader ugly, language & fem receiving oral. (18+)

“Baby! Where did you- why are you crying? What happened?”

It feels like the world stops spinning when his eyes land on you, tears soak your face, harsh lines from where your makeup once sat perfectly blended where smudged and wet. Your eyes bloodshot and sad, Rafe is pulling you against his chest, your tears start falling harder the moment his hand cradles your head. “Can we please go?”.

He’s escorting you out of the party, wrapping his arm around your head to shield you from prying eyes. He sent angry glares to anyone trying to take a peek at you. “What happened baby?”

You shake your head, you know you shouldn’t be crying. People have been cruel your whole life, always picking on something. Most of the people who were rude were people jealous of your family's wealth, jealous of your relationship with Rafe. “It doesn’t matter”

Rafe stops you abruptly, cupping your jaw tightly. He has a deep crease between his eyebrows as he stares at you in annoyance. “No.. you're not doing that. You don’t get to cry and then tell me it’s nothing.. you wouldn’t be crying if it was nothing”

Squeezing your eyes shut in shame, it was such a pathetic reason to be crying. He was just going to laugh and tell you to get over it. “Just a stupid group of girls being bitches”

Rafe steps closer to you, caging you against the car door. “What did they say?”

“That they don’t know why you love me.. that I’m worthless.. that I’m ugly” you hiccup the last part, biting down on your tongue to stop the sobs.

The words sting your throat as you repeat them back to him, heart pounding harshly against your chest in embarrassment. You can't bring yourself to look at Rafe, you knew he was rolling his eyes. “Hey.. look at me. Don’t listen to those fucking idiots, your perfect, your beautiful.. I love you because your the light to my darkness”

Looking up at him through your lashes. The corner of your lips curve into a smile, surprised with how he was reacting to your words. “You’ve never let anyone’s words affect you before, don’t let it affect you now. Not when your the most beautiful person on this island”

His lips are on yours before you can comment, pressing his body to yours. Your mind goes blank for a moment, letting the taste of his tongue blind you from the hateful words floating in your head. “So beautiful baby.. look at these goddamn perfect lips” he grunts, pressing a chaste kiss to your swollen lips. Running his hand down the length of your arm and curling his fingers around yours. “Look at these perfect hands.. the only hands I want to touch me”

You're grinning now, staring at him with bright eyes. He returns the smile reaching around to grab the car door, he pulls you against him as he opens the door and escorts you to the back seat.

“Let me show you how beautiful you are”

He crawls over you, closing the door behind him roughly. The car shakes slightly as he settles between your legs, kissing your ankle and up your calf. “Beautiful, so fucking beautiful” he kisses the side of your knee, pulling you closer to him. All words have become liquid and pooled in your panties, he leaves open mouth kisses up the length of your thigh. Leaving your cunt untouched, raising your hips to chase his lips only for him to press you firmly against the back seat. His nose brushes your dress up past your belly button, biting softly at the skin of your lower belly. “Beautiful”.

Slipping his hand under the strap of your dress and tugging it down, your nipples hardened under the intense gaze of his eyes. “These… these are extremely beautiful” his tongue drags up and back down between your tits, using both palms to push them together on his face. “So perfectly round, so soft and so beautiful”.

His mouth envelopes your nipple, sucking and biting softly. Your hips tilt upwards until you create a delicious friction on his belt bucket. “Fuck” you breath, arching your back from the seat. “Your fucking moans are even beautiful… never listen to those assholes baby girl.. your so fucking perfect”.

He skims up the back of your thigh grasping the material of your thong, yanking it down your legs and tossing it to the front seat. Hands gripping the back of your thighs to angle your wet heat to his face, his eyes locked on your soaked hole. “I don’t know how many times I can say this but it's beautiful.. this pussy, absolutely magic. The only god damn pussy I need or want”.

He licks a harsh stripe up the length of your cunt sending shivers up your spine, eyes going crossed at the action. Sucking your clit into his mouth with such force has you jutting from the seat, he holds you firmly against his face. Your body convulsing from his abuse, tongue and mouth working overtime on your sensitive pussy.

Without warning he pushes all three fingers into you, scissoring and pounding. A dull ache finds home in your lower belly, thighs clamping around his head as your orgasm forms. “RAFE… holy shit- I oh fuck” your a sobbing mess, grinding your cunt into his face and fingers. The sound of your wet pussy edges you further into bliss. “That’s it baby girl… show me those beautiful sounds”

“Yeah.. yes yes yes oh fuck like that Rafe! Harder shit”

The moans and cries from your lips has Rafe painfully hard, but this was about you. Not him, so he pounded his fingers into you harder, curling them until they caressed the soft spongy part of your cunt. “oh my fucking god- I’m cumming!” You screamed, eyes screwed shut, toes curled and body shaking as your orgasm flooded you. When it finally settled and his fingers slipped from within you, you dropped back to the seat dazed and fucked out. “So beautiful baby.. do you feel beautiful?”

You nod your head, finally bringing your eyes to his. His mouth and chin glistened with your arousal, his pupils blown out. You reach for his belt buckle, wanting to free his aching cock.

“Nuhuh this is about you.. making you feel good baby”

“Please” you whine, palming him through the material of his shorts. His fingers grip your wrist, pulling them above your head roughly. “I just made you cum, isn’t that enough?”

“Your cock makes me feel good.. so fucking good Rafe, please”

That’s enough to have him reaching in his pants and pulling his hard heavy cock out, your mouth salivating at the sight. “Do you understand how beautiful you are yet?”

“Yes Rafe.. so beautiful. Now please put your cock inside of me”

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brightlight-dazzlingeyes · 1 month ago

Note

Hey girl I adore ur story can you do Pablo Gavi story friends with benefits please?

Thank you also take your time 💋

hey, thank you!

and thanks for the suggestion, you didn’t give me a lot of details so i hope you like the way i wrote it 🧡🧡

pretty please | pablo gavi

🧁 synopsis: Pablo and you decide to turn your friendly casual hook-ups into a "no-strings-attached" arrangement – it sounds like the perfect plan: easy, fun, and uncomplicated. If only he weren’t so annoyingly impossible. tags: friends with benefits, banter, pablo being annoying, light smut. (written in 2nd person but no mention of yn) (around 1.8k words)

It’s supposed to be easy. That’s the whole point.

You’re perched on the kitchen counter, swinging your legs as he rifles through your fridge like he lives here. Like this is just a normal Tuesday night between friends who happen to sleep together.

“You seriously don’t have anything?” Gavi complains, holding up a sad-looking yogurt before tossing it back inside.

You shrug, biting back a grin. “It’s not my job to feed you.”

He turns to you, exasperated but amused, and points a finger. “Yeah, but I’m the one burning all the calories here. You should at least stock snacks.”

You roll your eyes, laughing as he leans against the counter across from you. He just came straight from training, but doesn’t look tired, though – he never does. Always has this kind of energy that makes it hard to say no when he texts, “You home?”

It’s easy, the way this goes. He shows up, sometimes with food, sometimes empty-handed. You make fun of him, he makes fun of you, and eventually you end up tangled in your sheets. There’s no guessing games, no overthinking. It’s simple.

“You’re staring,” he says, breaking the quiet.

“No, I’m not.”

He smirks, stepping closer until he’s standing between your knees. He rests his hands on either side of you, palms flat on the counter. “You’re staring because you’re thinking.”

“Thinking about how annoying you are? Yeah, probably.”

He laughs, close enough now that you can smell his cologne and feel the faint heat coming off his skin. “Don’t think so hard,” he says, nudging his nose against yours in that way he does when he’s trying to distract you. “We said no thinking, remember?”

And you do. That was the rule – no overthinking, no expectations, no strings. It’s supposed to be fun. It is fun.

So you kiss him and he kisses you back. You pull back just long enough to tug your shirt over your head, and before it even hits the floor, he’s grinning like an idiot.

“Cute bra.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “Shut the fuck up.”

“What? I’m complimenting you.” He holds his hands up, like he’s innocent, but there’s that stupid smirk plastered on his face, the one that always makes you want to kiss him and smack him at the same time.

“Yeah, well, maybe keep it to yourself.”

“Sorry, can’t. It’s a cute bra. Floral’s a good look on you.”

You groan, pushing at his chest, but he barely moves. “You’re ruining this.”

“Am I?” He leans in again, so close you can feel his breath against your cheek. “Because I don’t think I am.”

You roll your eyes so hard you almost see the back of your skull, but you don’t stop him when he kisses you again. His hands slide to your waist, fingers grazing skin, and the teasing melts into something slower, softer. For a second, you forget you’re supposed to be annoyed.

Then –

“Seriously, though, is it new? I don’t think I’ve seen this one before.”

You groan into his mouth and pull back, pushing his face away this time. “Oh my God, shut up.”

He’s laughing now, head tilted back, completely unbothered. “What? I’m observant!”

“You’re on thin ice, Pablo,” you mutter as you tug him by the shirt toward your room.

He stumbles after you, still grinning like he just won something. “Thin ice is still ice, cariño. I’ll take it.”

Your room is flawless – bed perfectly made, floors clear, not a single thing out of place. You’ve always been like this, a little too upkept, but it doesn’t stop Gavi from throwing himself onto your bed like he’s at home.

“Shoes off,” you snap immediately, pointing at him.

He freezes mid-flop like you’ve caught him committing a crime. “Relax, relax. I forgot!”

“You didn’t forget. You just think rules don’t apply to you.”

He’s smiling as he kicks off his sneakers, letting them hit the pristine floor with two thuds. You wince at the sound but say nothing because arguing with him would take all night. Instead, you cross your arms and stare at him.

Gavi stretches across your bed, arms flung dramatically to the sides, eyes closing like he’s exhausted. “This is what heaven must feel like.”

“I’m starting to think you only come over to mess up my stuff.”

“Not true,” he says, grin still lazy. “I also come over for you.”

You snort. “That’s sweet. Real poetic.”

“I try.” He turns onto his side now, eyes scanning your features.

“Is that your best line?”

“No, my best line worked when I got you to agree to this whole thing.”

You hate that he’s right, so you say nothing, but he keeps looking at you, waiting, until you finally sigh and crawl onto the bed beside him. You settle into the spot next to him, and he immediately throws an arm over your waist.

It goes on the way it always does: him teasing, you rolling your eyes, both of you pretending this is just another night. Like he’s not half on top of you, your legs tangled, his arm still heavy around your waist.

“You’re taking up all the space,” you complain, pushing at his shoulder.

“Your bed’s too small,” he shoots back.

“I like it this way.”

He hums like he’s considering it. You’re about to start arguing again when he leans down and presses his mouth to yours, cutting off whatever comeback you had ready. It’s not fair, really, how easy he makes this – how natural it feels to kiss him.

It’s still light, though. Easy. He bites at your bottom lip, gentle but enough to make you flinch back.

“Ow!”

“What?” he says, all innocent. “You looked like you were getting distracted.”

“Oh, you’re dead.”

You bite his shoulder – not hard, just enough to make him jerk and laugh.

“You’re crazy.”

“You started it.”

He shakes his head, still grinning, and rolls onto his back, pulling you with him until you’re sprawled half on top of him. Your hand smacks his chest, and he catches your wrist, holding it there. The smile lingers on his lips, but something in his eyes softens when he looks at you.

You pause. Just for a second.

And then he flips you over, laughing when you yelp, your hair falling into your face.

“You’re annoying,” you mumble, brushing it back.

“Yeah, but you love it.”

You want to argue, but he’s right. It’s annoying how good this feels, how good he feels. The way he knows how to make you laugh, even now, when he’s supposed to be focused. You run your fingers along the back of his neck, just to make him shiver, and he shoots you a look. “Don’t start.”

“Oh, I’m starting.”

He growls – actually growls – and nips at your collarbone in revenge, making you squeal and kick at him, but you’re both laughing, breathless and tangled together like you don’t know where you end and he begins.

It all quickly turns into soft gasps and muffled laughter, and teasing comments exchanged between kisses. He mutters something about your elbow being sharp (“You’re doing it on purpose, I know it.”), and you whisper something mean about his hair (“Looks like a bird’s nest.”), and neither of you really mean any of it.

Eventually, it quiets. The teasing gives way to something nicer, your hands tracing lazy patterns on his back, his thumb brushing along your cheekbone like he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it.

“Comfortable?” he murmurs, his voice low, a little rough.

“Mmhmm.” You don’t say anything else because you don’t need to. It’s good like this, like you’ve done it a hundred times before and still have a hundred more to go.

“I’m going in, alright? Hold on to me,” he whispers.

You swallow hard, your fingers already gripping his arms. “Just do it already.” You try to sound impatient, like you’re not affected, but your voice betrays you – soft, breathless.

Gavi huffs out a short laugh, shaking his head like you’re impossible, and then kisses you – hard. It’s not gentle or teasing like before; it’s a punishment, his mouth moving over yours until you forget how to breathe, until all you can think about is him and the way he feels.

And then he goes in, and everything stills for a moment.

It’s like every nerve in your body lights up at once, a fever spreading from your chest to your fingertips, leaving you feeling dizzy – like you’re floating, delirious and weightless. Your eyes flutter open, just barely, and you find him watching you. His expression is different now, like he’s seeing you and feeling everything all at once.

He looks like you feel, like he’s lost in this with you.

“You good?” he murmurs, his forehead nearly pressed against yours, voice soft but thick like he can barely get the words out.

You try to answer, but all you can do is nod. Your hand slides up to the back of his neck, pulling him closer, because that’s all you can think to do.

You lose track of time somewhere between all your favorite positions and all your favorite spots in the room – him pulling you to the edge of the bed, you shoving him into the chair by the window, both of you collapsing onto the rug at some point like you couldn’t even make it to a proper surface.

By the time it’s over, you’re both breathless, dripping in sweat, tangled up like you couldn’t be bothered to move. But after a second, you push at his shoulder with a groan.

“Ew, you’re disgusting, get off.”

He laughs, loud and unbothered, and instead of rolling away like a normal person, he hooks his arms around you, pressing his gross, sweaty chest against yours. “Disgusting? I was inside of you two seconds ago. Come here.”

“No!” You wriggle free, squealing, and bolt off the bed.

You’re naked, which makes this all the more ridiculous – darting around the room as he chases after you, both of you laughing so hard you can barely see straight.

“Pablo, fuck off!”

“Why are you running? Accept your fate!”

He lunges and grabs your waist, pulling you back against him as you shriek. He plants a loud, obnoxious kiss on your cheek and then, just as you’re recovering, lands a playful slap to your butt.

You gasp, smacking his arm. He winks at you, already grabbing his clothes from the floor. He looks far too pleased with himself. “Thanks, that was a nice cardio.”

You roll your eyes, collapsing onto the mattress again, finally catching your breath. “You’re welcome…”

He pulls his shirt over his head, “Generous as always.”

You grab the nearest pillow and throw it at him, but he’s already laughing, ducking out of the way like he knew it was coming.

It’s easy. Too easy.

And as he finishes dressing and runs a hand through his mess of hair, you can’t help but smile to yourself – because for now, this is good.

For now, you’ll take it.

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