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gloomskulls · 3 months ago

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⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ WHAT LIES UNDERNEATH [cult member peter parker x reader]

pairings: dark! peter parker x reader

blurb/part 2

⇢ ˗ˏˋ SUMMARY ୨୧ after losing your family, your friends, and your boyfriend, Peter Parker casually crashes in your life out of nowhere. His presence was welcoming, as his so-called village is too. But his hospitality seems to have something darker underneath

⇢ ˗ˏˋ WARNING ୨୧ NON-CON/DUB-CON (RAPE), heavy manipulation, toxic relationship, cult beliefs, oral (fem receiving), drugging (use of an aphrodisiac), p in v, multiple orgasms, breeding kink, obsessive behavior, mild violence, mentions of death, depression, suicidal thoughts, implied murder. lemme know if I missed any. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!

If you don't wanna see my dark stories, please block the tag #madi: dark content

a/n: this is loosely based on Midsommar, it's a really good movie. I have changed some stuff that i didn't feel comfortable writing or I just didn't want to write. Also this maybe the worst smut you've ever read probably. don't steal any of my shit or I'll steal ur head.

"I'm sorry sissy, the darkness is consuming me, and I will take them with me"

Those were the last texts your sister sent you. You were worried sick about her cryptic message and wanted disclosure from her, but she hasn't written back.

Your sister has been known to be a rather mentally challenged person. She was just venting to you. Right?

It was unnaturally still in the air, sitting at your kitchen table with the phone pressed close to your ear. Your fingers drummed an erratic rhythm against the edge of the table, still collapsed trying to ground yourself. All night, your sister has not picked up her phone. The strange text messages she had sent earlier in the day replayed like a broken record in your mind.

How many times have you been thinking of something really wrong, more than you would admit, but still dismissing it?

Somehow tonight felt different.

You texted Harry to reassure you, but the typical unsympathetic reply only served to add more weight to that chest heaviness again. Now you are left alone with your thoughts, and each one seems darker than the other.

You were about to not pick the phone because it looked like a spam call to you. The number was unknown, but that gut feeling inside you made you press accept.

"Hello?" Your voice dared as you strove to steady it.

The unknown caller said your name as they spoke, "Is this her?" The voice on the other end was calm but carried a cold detachment that made your stomach drop.

"Yes," you replied.

"This is Officer Hill with the NYPD. I'm sorry to tell you we've had an incident regarding your family," she said.

Air disappeared from your lungs suddenly, and your grip tightened against the phone. "What kind of incident?"

"I understand this is tough," she said, her voice carefully measured. "But I need you to come to the station. It's better to speak in person."

The issue of reality has been stretched and heavy between you, and it was so unbearable. “No,” you spoke finally in a panic voiding interiorly. “Please, just tell me now. What happened?”

There was a moment's hesitation in Hill's case. In that moment, you could feel the world starting to crack around you.

"There is no easy way to say this," she finally managed to come up with. "Your parents and sister were involved in a fatal accident. I am so sorry."

You could not comprehend those words for a moment. They swayed in the air outside with an unreal and incomprehensible quality. "What do you mean? Are they okay? What—"

"They didn't survive," Hill said softly, and that cut through your spiraling questions.

The phone fell from your hand and banged tipsily on the table. To this resonating rattle in the small space, however, your ear was tuned out. Your chest tightened, and the phrase ran in your brain, echoing in shallow gasps.

They didn't survive.

The days that followed the funeral just passed in a haze of hollow condolences and noise deafening silence. Your world had been torn apart while everything moved forward—all relentless and lame. Harry, your boyfriend of 2 years stayed as he assured you, but his presence seemed more of a fulfillment of an obligation than any comfort.

He was not exactly a cruel person; at least not really overt, for distance was a high-dubious chasm with every awkward conversation and with every minute spent by him scrolling through his phone instead of talking to you. Not blind are you to those glances he exchanged with his buddies once they assumed you weren't watching. There is pity instead of love and comfort in his eyes whenever you cry.

The last straw fell on a quiet Friday evening. You had dragged yourself to the apartment of Harry, looking for refuge in his presence after yet another sleepless night. He was lounging in the couch with one hand gripping a phone while the other was a beer.

"I feel like I'm falling apart," you admitted softly and settled next to him. Your voice cracked, and at last, the tears that were kept in were poured out. "I don't know how to do this without them. I don't know how to… keep going."

Harry glanced towards your direction, the look on his face inscrutable. After that, he set his phone down and fell into this heavy sigh as he rubbed the back of his neck. "I understand, okay? But you can't keep unloading things like this on me. It's…it's too much."

Your heart sank. "Too much?"

"I'm not your therapist," he said in defensive. "I don't know what you want me to do. I can't fix this for you."

"I'm not asking you to fix it!" You snapped while accepting the anger that had replaced the hurt. "I just need you to be here. To actually care."

He didn't answer immediately. Instead, he diverted his gaze from her, tightening his jaw. "This isn't fair," he muttered.

"What do you mean fair!?" you yelled, your volume rising. "Me grieving my whole family? It isn't as terrible as needing the person who's supposed to love me to act and comfort me?"

Harry stood up immediately and started pacing the tiny living room. "I didn't sign up for this," he said. The words cut like knives. "I feel like… like I'm drowning too. I'm trying to keep my head above water, but here you are, pulling me under."

Your breath literally caught in your throat at that last sentence, as if a blow on the physical plane had hit home. "Is that really how you see me? As one who drags you down?" You asked in disbelief.

However, he stopped pacing and turned toward you, shoulders sagging. "I don't know," he said more quietly. "I don't know what I feel anymore. My friends tell me I should end it. They say I can't do this to myself. But I thought, you know, that might help."

"Help?" you echoed, voice breaking. "You think pity keeping me would help? Do you know how humiliating that is?"

Harry looked away. "Well, I'm sorry! alright!? It's not like I want to be part of your fuckin tenth reason in your suicide note!". Guilt was scrawled across his face when those words left his mouth. "I didn't mean for it to be like this."

You stood waveringly. Nevertheless, your voice remained firm. "If this is too much for you, then spit it out. Be frank for once, Harry."

He hesitated, his silence answering the question you hadn't dared to ask outright.

You nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat. "Well, that's what I figured."

You took your bag and stepped out of the apartment, closing the door behind you just before the torrent of tears fell as you stumbled down the street. For the first time in weeks, you were truly alone. Sure, Harry wasn't the best boyfriend, but now you didn't have family, Harry, heck, you don't even have friends to pat you in the back and tell you it's alright.

You were truly alone, crying in the middle of the streets.

A week later, at the dinner party of an old classmate's friend, Peter Parker walks into your life.

Peter wasn't meant to be there—he admitted that soon after you started the talk. "I kind of crashed this," he confessed with a sheepish grin, rubbing the back of his neck. "I heard there was free food, and, uh… I have no self-control."

You laughed against your will. It was a real laugh that felt vaguely familiar after weeks of grief.

He was awkward but charming, with rapid tumbling out of words out of his mouth as he tried to start a small talk. "So, uh, how do you know Sam? Are you a friend from work? Oh wait, no, you don't look old enough to work with him—wait, not that you look like a kid or anything. I just meant—"

"It's okay," you interrupted, smile still there regardless. "I get it. I am also kinda crashing here, I never really got a proper invite, I just found out from one of my old classmates that there was a party, now here I am"

The more you could talk to him, the more you would discover how easy it was to be in his company. Unlike Harry, who had always been polished and withdrawn, Peter was frank and genuine, emotions laid out for all to see.

And by the end of the night, he had known your family. You had not intended to tell him, but somehow the way he listened— actually listened— made it spill out.

"I'm so sorry," Peter said softly, voice laced thickly with empathy. "That is… I can't even imagine what you're going through. But, if you ever need someone to talk to—or like, someone to distract you with dumb jokes—I'm here."

You've been taken aback by his earnestness. Finally, after what felt like years, someone might have noticed you.

It was indeed one of those nights which made time stretch out into eternity. You were there with Peter on a park bench where the faint light of the flickering city lights was shining through dense bushes and trees. The air was crisp, a cool kind that could very much seep into one's bones, yet Peter's company made it bearable.

He had this way of filling the silence without forcing it: sometimes talking, rambling on about whatever random thought invaded his head, sometimes just sitting with a person comfortable in the quiet, and today, he was acting especially thoughtful, staring at some faraway towers protruding above the skyline.

"Can I ask you something?" he suddenly blurted out, breaking the stillness.

"Sure."

He hesitated, bit his bottom lip as if he couldn't decide how to start, and began speaking. "Do you ever feel like…I don't know, like you're stuck?"

You blinked. It caught you off guard. "What do you mean?"

"Like everybody around you is moving ahead, but you're just there standing still," he explained, his words pretty crumbling out in that earnest, awkward way of his. "Like no matter what you do, you can't catch up."

The question was a little more awkward for you than you'd expected. "Yeah," you quietly admitted. "too many times than how I want it to be"

"It's tiring" he said, his eyes still far. "I get that. After my uncle… well died, after all that, I felt like I was trapped in this… I don't know, this loop. So, I couldn't allow myself to be happy because it would feel wrong, you know? Like I didn't deserve it."

You were gaping at him, flabbergasted by his openness. Peter was not the kind to talk much about himself—not like this, anyway.

"How did you get out of it?" you asked in a soft voice.

He smiled faintly. "I didn't. Not really. But I found something that helped."

"What was it?"

Peter gazed upward at the stars. "My hometown. It's a little dot in the middle of nowhere on the map. Quiet, kind of old-fashioned place. But there's something… something grounding."

He stopped for a brief while, casting a doubtful glance at you. "I go back every summer. It's like hitting a reset button or something. And, uh… would you want to join me this year?"

Totally unexpected. "You want me to go with you?"

"Yeah," Peter said quickly, blushing in the face of it. "If you want to. No pressure, or anything. Just you have been through a lot, and I thought maybe time away might help or something. It's not fancy or anything—definitely not the kind of place with five-star hotels—but it's peaceful. And I'd be there, so… you wouldn't be alone."

At his words, your throat became somewhat tight. He was not offering a vacation. He was inviting you to an escape.

"I don't know," You finally ventured with a little quiver of voice. "What if I just feel worse?"

"You won't," Peter said firmly, his brown eyes locking onto yours. "I won't let you."

There was something so genuine about the way he said it, like he truly believed he could protect you from the weight of your grief.

"What is it like?" you asked, helpless curiosity walking over your hesitation.

Peter's eyes set aglow at that moment, brimming over with a lot of excitement. "Oh gosh! Now where do I even begin? Okay, so there's this diner right in the middle of town. It's run by Mr. and Mrs. Beck. They've been married for like fifty years or something, and they make the fluffiest pancakes you've ever tasted in your life. And then there's this old library. Small, yes, but it has this weird charm, you know? Everything is crooked, and half the books are falling apart, but I love it. Oh, and there's this great big field just outside of town—it's perfect to stargaze because you can see the Milky Way out there. It's insane."

Now he was practically bouncing out of his seat, his enthusiasm almost contagious.

"It sounds… amazing," you found yourself admitting. A small smile tugged your lips.

"It's amazing," Peter said earnestly. "And I think you would love it. Everyone is so welcoming there. It's like… a little bubble of goodness in this horrible world sometimes."

For just a moment, you let yourself imagine it, far from the city and the reminders of everything that had been lost, somewhere I might again breathe.

"Okay," you said finally, barely above a whisper.

Peter's eyes lit up. "Really? You're going to come?"

"Yeah," you said, surprising even yourself. "I think I need this."

"Trust me; you won't regret it," Peter continued, his grin stretching from ear to ear.

For the first time in what felt like forever, you felt a flicker of hope. Maybe this trip wouldn't fix everything. Maybe it wouldn't fix anything. But for now, it was enough to know you wouldn't be facing it alone.

It was a surreal feeling about the trip toward Peter's hometown. It was almost a relief because you sensed that you were really leaving everything behind, even thought it was just a few weeks. Driving in a comfortable pattern with Peter talking animatedly about all of the town's strange things, while you listened and occasionally chimed in with a question or a laugh at one of his goofy replies.

As you drove farther from the city and the scenery opened to rolling hills and dense forests before you, Peter shifted in his seat to adjust the radio. The soft tune filled the car and merged with the sounds of the tires over the road.

"You are going to love it," Peter said, glancing at you with an innocent smile. "Air's so fresh it nearly smells fake, and the stars. They're nothing like anything you've ever seen before. I promise."

"I'll hold you to that," you said, smiling despite the nervous knot still twisting about in your chest.

The town came into view just about the time the sun started sinking, dipping the horizon in gold and pinks. It was a little bit smaller than you had in mind, the kind of place that probably knew everyone by name.

Peter slowed the car as you entered the main street, which was lined with quaint buildings that appeared to have been plucked from another era. A few of the local's whereabouts were either on their porches talking, in their gardens working, or taking their dogs out for a walk. They would almost wave at Peter as they drove past.

"See? Told you. Nicest people on the planet," said Peter returning the waves enthusiastically.

"No shit," you said, watching a woman coming across with a basket of flowers smile toward you warmly.

Peter stopped in a graveled driveway leading to a homely two-storied fairy tale house. Crooked white picket fence and wildflower-laden garden, there was little that screamed charm.

The moment the car stopped, from the front door, she came, a petite woman in her 30's with brown hair, beaming with kindness in her eyes and warmth in her smile.

"There's my darling nephew!" she called out.

Peter jumped out of the car, practically bounding onto her, hugging her. "Aunt May!"

"And you must be the girl Peter keeps talking about," she said, her bright eyes finding their way to you. "Peter has told me so much about you."

"Oh, um, hi," you said, stepping out of the car and giving a small wave.

"Then that's it," she said, surprising with her strong hug for her small figure. "It's so lovely to finally meet you. Come in! It's rather hot out here during the summers"

Once you stepped into the house, you were met with interior that was as cozy as anyone could expect, the design suggests mixes between vintage and modern furniture, with colorful throw blankets and knickknacks making it feel lived in. There was also a faint waft of freshly baked cookies, which you soon spotted on the kitchen counter.

"Make yourself at home," May said, "Your room's already set up upstairs. Peter can show you around."

"Thanks May," Peter replied, already grabbing your bag before you could protest.

Up came Peter, leading you to a small but cozy guest room overlooking the backyard.

"Hope that's cool," said Peter, dropping your bag next to the bed. "Not fancy, but it's quiet."

"It's perfect," you said, placing your backside on the edge of the bed and taking a moment to breathe.

In the following days, Peter became your own personal tour guide, leading you through the town every nook and cranny, and introduced you to everyone as if you were already a part of the community, and to your surprise, they all welcomed you with open arms

Mr. and Mrs. Beck would insist on serving you their best pancakes while there at the diner even after breakfast time.

"We have heard so much about you," Mrs. Beck said it with a twinkle in her eyes. "Peter's nearly counting the days until you came."

Peter turned red and scratched the back of his neck. "Thanks, Mrs. Beck. Subtle as always."

Library, this was to be; the charmingly ramshackle structure seemed to sag under the weight of its many books. Peter's eyes lit up as he walked through those rows of crooked shelves with his fingers trailing over the spines.

"This here was my escape growing up," he said, pulling a worn copy of The Hobbit from the shelf. "Any time things got… overwhelming, I'd come here. Just me, a book, and a whole lot of silence."

This was the kind of moment when one caught a glimpse into Peter's world of quiet, reflective, introspective thinking where the depths beneath the sunshine state, as always, reside.

The very field that Peter had described so vividly turned out to be even more breathtaking than you ever imagined. The grass stretched out in every direction, swaying gently in the breeze, and the sky above was that of a canvas painted with stars, brighter and bolder than he had ever seen.

With a dramatic sigh, Peter flopped onto the ground, patting a spot next to him. "Come on, you're not getting the full experience unless you lie down."

You hesitated to lie down beside him, letting the cool grass tickle your arms as you stared up at the infinite expanse of sky.

"Wow," you breathed.

"Yeah?" he said, turning his head towards you. "It's like the universe decided to show off or something."

They lay there silently for a good while with the sound of the rustling grass and an occasional chirp of crickets. That was the most peaceful you had felt in a long, long time.

Maybe it was a little initial self-talk that told you it was just small town hospitality. People in cities don’t wave at strangers, though maybe that’s simply what people do out here. Maybe they were just genuinely curious about a stranger in a little place where everyone knows everyone.

But as the day went on, those small gestures, those innocent jests began to feel… different.

It started out slow.

At the diner, Mrs. Beck lingered longer than she ought to while refilling your coffee, her smile warm but sharp, penetrating eyes boring onto you.

"You're feeling like one of us already, aren't you?" she would have said, almost as if it were a statement rather than a question.

You gave a polite smile with no idea of how to answer. "Uh, yeah, everybody's really welcomed here."

"Oh, good," she said, with a firm nod. "That's what we want."

There's something in the way she said it, words weighing a lot more than they were supposed to.

And so it went; the Becks household was not the only one. The pattern held true for nearly every encounter.

"How are you settling in?"

Not "welcome" or "hi and how long are you staying?" The last kind of question you would expect from someone meeting a newcomer. The question, however, assumed permanence. It assumed that you were settling in, that you live here now.

Initially, you passed it off as just another one of those quirks that could be attributed to small-town hospitality. Maybe that's just their way of being polite. But after a few more days, it became pretty hard to ignore the repetition.

You brought it up to Peter one morning as the two of you sat on May's porch, sipping coffee and watching the sunrise.

"Is it just me," you began, keeping your tone light, "or does everyone here ask the same question?"

Peter looked up from his mug, a confused smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "What question?"

"How I'm 'settling in.' Like, literally everyone has said it."

"Oh, that?" Peter chuckled, brushing it off with a wave of his hand. "That's just how people are around here. Small towns, you know? Everyone's in everyone else's business, and they just want to make sure you're happy. It's aggressively wholesome."

You nodded while struggling to let his explanation take root in you, but that feeling of unease lingered.

Then came the presents.

The librarian insisted that you check out a copy of Little Women, even if you just went there to browse.

"You'll love it," she said, sliding it over the counter to you with a knowing smile.

"How do you know?" you asked, only half-joking.

Her smile didn't waver. "I just do."

At the hardware store, the owner gave you a tiny potted shrub. "Every home needs a little bit of green," he said cheerfully, but his eyes had a dark intensity that made him more intimidating.

"Thanks," you mumbled awkwardly, holding the plant as you walked out.

It was the kind of gift given to a father like you, not at all because you wanted it, but so they could wave it in your face.

The real breaking point occurred one night at the diner.

Peter was treating you to dinner there after spending the afternoon wandering around town. It was quieter than usual, the counter occupied only by a few regulars. The place smelled of coffee and fries, and while Peter was busy demolishing a plate of the latter, you excused yourself to go to the washroom.

The hallway at the back of the diner is dark and narrow, the overhead fluorescent lights humming in slightly grating tones. At the door marked "Women," you caught snatches of voices from the kitchen-garbled, urgent.

"…And she's settling in?"

"She seems fine so far. Peter's doing a good job keeping her comfortable."

You were frozen with your hand on the doorknob. Your pulse raced. "Good, she has to feel like she belongs, it's important."

Then there was a crashing sound of many dishes, followed by a long heavy pause.

"So," says the first voice, "you think she suspects anything?"

"No. Not yet."

There, silence fell between the voices after that, then just the faintest clink—the sound of silverware-and the quick pounding of your heartbeat resounded in your ears.

When you stepped back to the table, Peter's easy smile greeted you. "Everything cool?" he asked as he dipped a fry into ketchup. "Yeah," you said quickly as you slid into your seat. "Fine."

The mind remained racing.

They must be talking about someone else—a new hire at the diner. Maybe a new family into town. There was no way they were talking about you.

Right?

You tried to shake it off, sinking into Peter's chatter about the upcoming festival, but the unease clung to you like a second skin.

May's small guest room became so beautiful in the rays of the morning sun that they filtered through lace curtains and softly flecked the walls. You stared ridiculously at the ceiling, a heavy weight on your chest, making sleep unusually elusive. Thoughts had been just too loud and tangled.

Those whispers from the diner, the rehearsed kindness from townspeople, and the way he seemed to brush it all off so easily were elusive things you couldn't shake off. The most you told yourself was that it was probably nothing.

This is what you told yourself as you forced yourself out of bed and down the stairs. Peter wouldn't lie to you; he was the most genuine person you knew. Right?

The smell of pancakes and coffee greeted you in the kitchen.

By the stove stood Peter, his hair at odd angles and humming a tune under his breath. For a moment, you let yourself relax. This is Peter, your Peter.

"Good morning, sleepyhead!" he greeted, grinning at you with that boyish grin. He slid over a plate of pancakes drenched in syrup and topped with fresh strawberries.

"Morning," you replied, low enough to be heard.

"You okay?" he asked, tilting his head.

"Yeah, just didn't sleep much," you tugged and picked little at your food.

"Frowning," Peter said and kept down his fork. "Anything troubling you?"

"No," you lied quickly. "Just one of those nights."

He studied you for a moment, and you forced a small smile. Whatever the unease was, there was no reason for dragging Peter into it. He'd just dismiss it as he always did.

At last, the day was spent in a well-practiced blur of activities. It seemed Peter had made up his mind to keep you as busy as possible, even dragging you around the town park and to that creek he used to catch tadpoles as a kid. And if that weren't enough, he picked you up from the bakery where the sweet aroma of pastries was very strong. Offering you so many pastries till your stomach ached

Evening had cloaked the house in darkness, and so much for bottled up emotions. After dinner, the two of you sat alone in the living room: May well and truly off to bed. And that left you here with Peter sprawled across the couch flipping through some book, while you closed yourself into a tight little knot in the armchair.

"Peter," you broke the silence.

He blinked up at you with alarmed eyes. "Yeah?"

"I need to ask you something."

His brows knitted slightly, but he set aside the book. "Sure. What is it?"

You pause, heart racing. "Last night at the diner I heard something. Two people in the kitchen were talking about me."

Peter's face remained impassive. Still in his eyes, there was a flicker of something that disappeared as quickly as the light.

"What did they say?"

"They said you were doing a good job keeping me comfortable. That I need to feel like I belong." You paused, faltering with your voice. "Peter, what does that mean?"

Peter leaned forward, dangling his elbows on his knees. "It's nothing, they were probably just being nosy. People here care about each other, and when someone new comes in, they get… curious."

"That is not how it sounded," you said shaking your head. "It sounded like, intentional. It sounded much like plotting."

"You're overthinking this" Peter sighed rubbing back on his neck "Seriously, this town—it's different—close-knit. They just want to ensure you feel welcome, happy here, nothing but that".

“Then why does it feel so fake?” you pressed, raising your voice. “Everyone acts like they already know me. Like they’re expecting something to come from me.”

Peter tensed his jaw, and then he did not speak anything for a moment. He then stood up suddenly. "I brought you here for your help," he said in a hard tone. "I brought you here so you might begin a fresh mental state, a place where you could heal. And instead of appreciating it, you are looking for ways to tear it apart."

"I didn't ask for this!" you shot back, standing as well. "I didn't ask to be dragged into some town where everyone acts like I'm part of some… some secret club!"

Peter turned to you, eyes flashing. "You didn't have to ask! You were falling apart. You needed this. And I've been trying my best to make things easier for you, but you can't even see that, can you?"

The words hit you like a slap. Staring at him, breathless, tears filling your eyes. "Peter… why are you doing this?"

He softened immediately, shoulders slumping. "I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I didn't mean to—look, I just… I care about you. I hate seeing you so lost. I thought bringing you here would help, but maybe I was wrong."

You wiped your eyes, and the mind is busy with thoughts. Maybe he is right. Maybe you are over-reacting. Peter was not that manipulative. He was just worried.

"Okay," you said finally, your voice shaky. "But if this town is so great, then why does it feel like there is something you are not telling me?"

Peter's eyes drifted towards the window momentarily—as if to check whether there were eavesdroppers outside—"It is not like that," he said, whispering faintly barely audible.

"Then tell me what it is," you said. "If you want me to trust you, then stop keeping secrets."

Peter sighed deeply, his shoulders sagging. "Alright," he said. "But you're not going to like it."

"And that's supposed to mean what?"

He moved closer, looking you straight in the eye. "Some things are better demonstrated rather than told," he said, his tone even more pleading. "I'll tell you everything tomorrow. Just…give me another day."

You gawked at him, feeling your belly tie up in knots. Every instinct in you screamed to demand answers right now, but for some reason, the look in his eyes stopped you. He looked… desperate.

"Fine," you said with reluctance. "One more day."

Peter nodded, a relief washing over his face. "Thank you," he said almost inaudibly. "I assure you, it will all come into perspective soon."

But climbing into bed that night only made more pronounced the doubts gnawing at you louder than they had done before.

The cold, crisp evening air wrapped tight around you like a noose, as they led Peter into the woods. Try as you might to ignore the uncomfortable hollow in your gut, the longer you sat in this strange, unsettling village, the more you felt that something dark ran underneath it all. Every villager's smile, how they seemed to know just a little too much about you—everything just felt orchestrated, perfect.

You had held the doubts to yourself, buried deep down because Peter had always been the perfect anchor. But tonight, something flickered in his eyes—his tense shoulders and that almost undetectable flash of something darker crossing his face—told you that you were no longer in control.

You entered the clearing, gasping for air by the time you stepped into the structure resembling a stone chapel. The door agonizingly creaked open, bringing in the cold air from outside in juxtaposition with the stifling heat within. There, illuminated softly, were the others. A few you recognized from the eerily quiet familiar faces that watched you through predatory eyes.

It felt thick and heavy in the air, almost stultifying. The walls were closing in, and the silence was becoming almost oppressive. Peter gently but firmly drew you forward, his comforting presence still providing warmth, though everything else seemed wrong.

He was more weathered and older than you imagined, the drawn skin of his face tight over sharp features, pale and unblinking eyes matching his face. The robe hung dark and almost blended into shadows as he approached you. A murmur swept through the people gathered, and you paid little attention. Everything spun in your head and your heart drummed against your ears.

"Peter," said the man with a voice which grated like a rusty hinge, as if he had been whispering for years. "She has come."

Peter's eyes had been fixed on you for some time, and now he nodded slowly. The heat of his gaze made your skin crawl. The man checked you out from head to toe, and his intense eyes seemed to promise a lot of something. "Perfect," he said under his breath but not for too long so that others could hear him as he shouted, "She is the one. It's time."

Time, just like that word, seemed hollow, reverberating in the air around you like a bad omen. Instead, you opened your mouth to argue or question what part of this was really happening, but then, Peter squeezed your shoulder so tightly that it felt like it might crush your bones.

"It's okay," he whispered against your ear with his very warm breath. "I'll explain everything. You'll understand soon enough."

But understanding was the last thing you wanted to happen. All you had in mind was running. The man stepped forward, never breaking the eye contact. "Our village has managed to survive for many centuries and still thrive at its odds. But there is one rule that we have to abide by—there is one rule that can't be broken. After every eighteen years, one of our own must depart from this world and find someone in the outside world—from beyond these walls to someone pure."

Your mouth went dry. "What… what do you mean by that?"

"Every time a child turns eighteen, he must leave for a period of time to spend in the world outside, learn its ways; but after this period, he must return, and he must bring someone from the outside to add to the village."

Your body suddenly turned ice cold. "What do you mean, bring someone from the outside?" You spluttered. Your voice barely made an impression on the silence.

The smile of the man became broad. "A new family member. A mate. Someone to whom they will get married, with whom they will create children. This is the law."

You turned to Peter with wide eyes filled with horror as your heart stuttered deep in your chest. "What do you mean… a mate? You want me to��?"

Peter tightened his grip on your shoulder and breathed shallowly. "That's how it is done. This is how we survive. The village needs strong new blood. The children produced from these unions keep the bloodline pure, preventing inbreeding."

Inbreeding. That one word roared through your mind like no other thought. You couldn't breathe. You felt suffocated under the weight of all that.

"What… what are you saying?" you gasped, stunned and unable to take in everything being revealed to you.

Peter stepped even closer; eyes dark with something almost predatory. "That's how this works. You're part of the plan now. You have no choice. You are here because you were chosen. You are going to help us keep the village alive. Our survival depends on… "

"No," you whispered, stumbling backward as you tried to retreat. "No, this isn't right. You can't—this isn't—"

And suddenly, an old man stepped beside you, his shadowy tallness overshadowing you. "You will understand soon. You are not the first, nor will you be the last. Every child who leaves returns with someone. And they will mate, they will bear children. This is how we preserve our people, how we protect our bloodline." He said as if it was your duty, as if this was your destiny.

"No!" You screamed tearing the air with your voice now choked in emotions. "This is insane! You're insane!"

The gentleness from Peter that used to soothe you all vanished, replaced by the steely resolve. He took another step forward, and instinctively you recoiled. "I did not want you to have this," he said, his voice low and strained, "but it is how it is. You will come to understand, and you will see that it is for the best."

The other villagers watched you with silent intensity as the space surrounding you felt as if it were closing in on you, with walls pressing from all sides. You could feel their hungry and expectant eyes on you.

You wanted to run. You wanted to yell.

But as soon as the old man reached out his hand to grab you, Peter's hold on your arm tightened, his fingers digging into your skin, keeping you anchored. "You don't understand yet," he said quietly, his voice tinged with something darker, something that, as it sent chills down your spine, made you think he was going to take you off somewhere to be tortured. "But you will. Soon, it will make sense. The only way to survive is this. This is something we can't let you ruin."

You were trapped. The weight of their expectations crushed you, their smiles now twisted masks of something monstrous beneath.

"Your child will also do the same duty," the old man said softly. "When they come back to the village with their mate, they will fulfill their destiny. They will carry our future."

Your chest constricted. Every part of you screamed to escape, to run, to fight against the suffocating nightmare into which you had been dragged. All the while, in the depths of your consciousness, you knew that there was no escaping this; they had planned for this. They had chosen you.

Back against the stone wall of the chapel now, your breath came in rapid, gasping suction since the reality began to drown in you. It beat loudly in your chest, a frantic mind racing for exit routes, for freedom from the path that had been laid out for me like a spider's web in all its horrible detail.

Peter's gaze was cold and cruel; it was no longer the warm presence one had hoped for. The heady words of the old man echoed in your ears, chilling and impossible to escape, like a curse. "You will return. You will bear our future."

As impossible as it was to believe, you finally realized it, this fucked up cycle wanted you to be part of it—and not by choice.

But you weren't going to let that happen.

You pushed past Peter and felt the sharp sting as he grabbed at your arm. You broke free, legs now trembling beneath you, as you headed for the door. You had to get out. You didn't know where you were running, but the woods were the only option. The only chance at freedom. You burst through the chapel door and into the cold night air, stumbling over uneven ground.

You heard footsteps behind you, but you didn't dare look back. The wind howled around you, swallowing up any sounds from the village. Your lungs burned as you pushed yourself faster, harder, your breath ragged from panic clawing at your chest.

You didn't look up when you heard a car approaching, but you didn't stop either, as your mind told you to keep running, to escape, but your legs were beginning to fail you.

The car stopped short before you, the headlights blinding. You turned with a wild heart as the door to that vehicle swung open. A man in a police uniform stepped out, his expression unreadable.

"Hey, are you alright?" he asked, with a soft voice but underneath carrying an authority.

He wouldn't let you trust him, and you could be in danger. "I-I need help," you stuttered, barely able to catch your breath. "They're chasing me. They—they won't let me leave."

The officer stepped closer, his eyes darting toward the woods behind you. "Who's chasing you? What happened?" His voice was smooth, coaxing, calm.

You stumbled toward him, the last shreds of your resistance slipping away. His presence was comforting, the uniform a familiar sign of safety in this strange world that had turned upside down. "Please," you gasped. "I need to get out of here. Please help me."

The officer smiled, that warm, almost paternal smile that gave you a moment's feeling of cocooned safety. "You are well within safety here. Get into the car and I'll take you to the station. They won't find you."

You didn't even think twice about it. Worn out and shivering, you climbed into the passenger seat of the car. The door slammed behind you, then the engine revved into life. You sank into the seat, closed your eyes, letting the sound of the engine create an illusion of safety. Finally, you escaped. Finally, you could breathe again.

The engine growled before heading out with the officer looking at you and softening his expression to almost a grin. "A strange night out here, huh?" Are you really sure you are, okay?"

You shook your head, catching your breath. "I need to get away from those people… I don't know who they are but they're dangerous."

"People can be dangerous, can't they?" he mused.

You glanced at him. "Yeah, I guess. I just don't know who to trust anymore."

Soft chuckle from him, as if to sense that it sounds contrived, that it has to be learned. "What's trust? You just have to know whom to get along with and whom to avoid. It requires experience."

You just turned to the window and trees and darkness rushed by. The mind was reeling from the attempt at grasping everything that has happened as it was really too much: the town; the event; Peter's cold stare; and now this—this officer who has apparently materialized at just the right moment. He must be the one sent to rescue you.

"Where are we off to?" You asked

"Oh, just a little way out of town," he replied, his voice smooth, almost too smooth. "Nothing to worry about."

You nod, fatigue dragging heavily on your eyelids. For a moment, it felt good, like all was well. But then the cop's voice became a personal one.

''I'm Steve by the way, Steve Rogers. Was just coming here for a quick stroll," he began, "I never thought I was going to be out here, helping someone like you. It is really funny, how life turns out."

Brow furrowed, and incomprehension written all over the face. "What do you mean?"

The very slight narrowing of the officer's eyes at you, just for an instant, was followed by his returning gaze to the road ahead. "I spent a lot of time in these parts, and the people can be somewhat…. they are peculiar. But then, I guess you already know that."

Heck, what was he talking about? "What do you mean by a little hard to understand? Who do you mean by that?"

Just above a smile, something confidential, something dark, flickered across the officer's lips. "Well, my wife, Peggy… she was from around here. She got them, you know? Understood what was going on. It took me a long time to realize it, but eventually, I figured it out. I did too."

Your heart stops, hammering against the confinement of your ribs. "Peggy… Carter?" That name rang in your mind like a bell, sharp and dissonant. You had heard that name before, only in whispers, a long time ago.

From what you remembered Peggy Carter was one of the most vicious woman in the police force, even in her short time in doing her job. One day she got married to a man named Steve and nothing was heard from her again. As if she disappeared, she completely left her job and duty, and so did Steve who was a fellow police like her who also vanished from the face of the earth. That was all you knew, and all of that happened 10 years ago. Many believed they moved. Some believed

The officer's smile brightened, but now it had no warmth. His voice went down low, as if telling you a secret you weren't supposed to know, "That's right. Peggy Carter. She was special. A part of something much bigger than either of us ever realized. I didn't understand it at first. Thought she was just a regular woman… but then I saw it. I saw everything for what it was."

It had caught in your throat because your mind was connecting all the dots. Peter, in actual fact, couldn't stop saying that you were here for a bigger thing, that you actually belonged. And now there is the officer, Peggy Carter, the strange village thing, the quite twisted ceremony—now everything starts to get clearer while terrifying you.

Your pulse raced, and once more, you cast a glance at him, eyes wide with realization. "You… you’re one of them, aren’t you? You’re one of their… their plan.”

For just a second, something shadowy, something colder, flicked through his eyes; and with that flicker, somehow you knew you'd made a terrible mistake trusting him.

Steve Rogers, the cop smiled "I was hoping you'd come around sooner or later. You're a bit smarter than I thought," his voice was light, like he was discussing the weather. "However," a dangerous tremor lurked below his words. "Peggy always said you'd be the perfect addition - just like I was, just like she was."

You sprung back, your first instinct was to reach for the door handle, but before your brain could register what was happening, the vehicle shifted violently. Body flung against the door; your head crashed against the metal side with a sickening thud. Stars exploded behind your eyes, and suddenly, everything muffled.

When you woke up from what felt like the worst sleep in your life, but you weren't sleeping, or did you just doze off and you couldn't remember any of it? Everything felt like a blur, memories were juggled up, and everything seemed out of place. How did I get here again? You thought to yourself.

It was strangely silent all around. The engine's rhythmic humming gave way to a stifling, heavy silence. You couldn't move. The air around you was thick and stifling; you had a throbbing headache that was likely to make you nauseous.

You couldn't even comprehend what was happening before you saw the door of the car opened, your whole-body weight made you fall off the vehicle. You audibly groaned as your body hit the rough dirty cement

Lo and behold, standing right in front of was Steve Rogers, towering above you, his face expressionless. His cold stare that piercing through your soul at you while your arms continued to adjust the sleeves of his uniform with a calm expertise.

He circled you as if he was predator cornering its prey. He stopped just at your head. He looked at you with an expressionless face, he slowly smiled, the creepy type of smile you would see psychopaths do on movies.

You wanted to run, punch him in the face and fucking run. But you couldn't, it felt as if your feet have already given up on you, plus the blooming pain in your head made it hard to think.

"It just never gets the job done" He frowned momentarily, your eyes widened in fear as you saw him take a beer bottle from behind his back, you shook your head, no please, please, please. You tried your best to crawl away from him, but you couldn't even feel your legs.

You sobbed in defeat, but he just caressed your cheek and wiped your tears away, as if to lure you into a false sense of security. With all the softness of a feather, he said, "You'll be fine," really more to reassure himself than you. "The ceremony's just waiting for you."

Before you can act, a hard bang on your head seems to lurch your stomach. The officer had swung a beer bottle at your skull; it hit with a sickening crack and within the instant the pain exploded into darkness pressing behind your eyes, and the world went black.

It was the scent of incense—sickeningly sweet and heavy enough to churn in the stomach. Candlelight flickered. shadows danced on stone walls, making the small space feel smaller by the second.

You woke up all lethargic with a blooming headache. You felt relaxed underneath the soft bed that you laid, but once you took in the stone walls, it felt like a train has hit you. All of the events from a few hours ago running you over.

Your mind raced, scrambling for an escape route, but all you saw was Peter standing between you and the door.

He never looked more like a stranger.

The once boyish charm which drew me to him was now a hollow mask as he hid himself behind his dark eyes. The face had no malignance—worse, it was soft, almost tender, like he really believed in what he was about to do. And that thought haunted me most terrifyingly.

"You are trembling," Peter said, his calm and soothing voice only making the fear spike higher. "I know it's a lot, really overwhelming, taking it all at once… but… it will be okay, I promise you."

"Peter, please," you whispered, your voice breaking into pieces at the seams. You could hardly utter a word without your throat choking it. "You don't have to do this. Let me out. I promise I won't tell the police—"

But that was where he cut you off by shaking his head sadly. "You don't understand. This is my home. It is where I belong. And now, it is where you belong too. We are part of something bigger here. Something meaningful."

"Meaningful?" you spat. "You kidnapped me, lied to me, and brought me here to…" The words cracked at the tightness in your throat. You couldn't even say them. I dawned onto you that you have been too trusting with Peer, but who wouldn't? Who knew that clumsy little sweet Peter was capable of doing something this fucked.

Peter stepped closer, casting a shadow over the too small room where it suddenly felt claustrophobic and anchoring. “I didn’t kidnap you. I saved you.”

His voice is insistent, though not harsh. “You were lost out there. Alone. No family, no one who cared about you. Don’t you see? This is your chance to start over, to have a purpose. To be loved.”

“Loved?” The word struck your lips like venom. “This isn’t love, Peter. This is… this is sick.”

It darkened slightly his countenance, as a spark of frustration crossed his face before it was replaced by forced patience. "You're scared," he softly pronounced. "That's normal. But fear does not last. Once you embrace your role, once you understand what we're building here, you'll see that it's not sick. It's beautiful."

“No,” you whispered, the soft sound swallowed by the thrumming of your heart. “No, this isn’t survival. This is—”

“But” Peter cut you off firmer now like a knife slicing through your protests. “It’s already decided. The village chose you. I chose you. And now… it’s time to fulfill your purpose.”

Peter looked at you, with a voice deceptively soft. “It’s not about what you want. It’s about what the village needs. What I need. We can’t let our bloodline die. Every generation, we bring someone in—someone like you. It’s how we survive. How we thrive.”

“Not,” that voice barely came out through the rapid pounding of your heart. "No, this isn't survival. This is—"

The words sent the waves of nausea throbbing through you. Your knees buckled, landing you onto the edge of the bed, your body shaking violently. Peter knelt before you, hands gentle as they gripped your knees. The touch made your skin crawl, but you were frozen, paralyzed by fear.

"You are afraid," he repeated, the tone almost tender. "it needs to be this way. After the ceremony, you'll see there is clearly a need for it."

"Peter," you choked out, barely in a whisper. "Don't do this, please."

He tilted his head, softening in expression as if he really thought given how pitiful you look. "This is for them. For us. For the village. You'll thank me one day."

The door creaked open, and two women stepped in to the door. They moved with quiet, almost unnerving precision their white, long, and flowing robes covering the ground as they entered. Both had faces that seemed devoid of emotion—serene but cold as if they had performed this ritual hundreds of times before.

You instinctively tried to press yourself into the corner of the bed pulling down from Peter. “Who are they?” you asked unsure though your voice came out shaky and weak.

Peter turned toward the women; his posture casual almost welcoming. “They’re here to help,” he said softly as though the explanation should comfort you.

Help. The word in your stomach was like poison. You didn’t need help. You needed to escape.

One of the women carried a bowl filled with a dark unknown substance that shimmered strangely in the candle's light. She laid the bowl down on a small wooden table near the bed, her movements carefully controlled. The other carried a smaller cup with her fingers clutching tightly as she looked at you.

“Don’t,” you said, your voice trembling as you shook your head. “I’m not drinking that.”

It’s just to help,” he said calmly. "You’ve been through so much. You lived so much. You’re shaking. You’re exhausted. This will relax you.”

“I don’t want to relax!” you cracked your voice rising in desperation. “I want to leave! Please, Peter, don’t do this!”

He sighed, as though disappointed but his patience did not waver. “I know you’re scared,” he said reaching out to hold his hand on your knee. “But this isn’t about fear. It’s about trust. You trust me, don’t you?”

Your stomach tilted and a cold wave of nausea was rolling over you. Why would he even ask that question? "Peter, you are not the person I thought you were. I don’t trust you. I don’t even know you anymore.”

Peter’s jaw tightened somewhat ever so slightly, as if flickering with guilt. Peter was the funny and clumsy guy you met at a party, but this Peter. You don't know which dimension he came from. But his guilt was immediately gone in an instant replaced by the same calm, unnervingly patient expression, accompanied with a reassuring smile that could've been comforting in different circumstances.

“It’s my fear. I think that can be said,” he said, his tone softening again. "Once you let go of this, you will see. You’ll feel better.”

He gestured toward the woman with the cup to reach closer to you. Her movements were graceful, fast rehearsed as she held the drinking. The cup itself was simple, wooden. But compared to what's inside looked nothing compared to ordinary. It was a dark murky brown with faint swirls of crimson that seemed to ripple on its own.

Your stomach churned at the sight of it, you wanted to gag at the thought of even coming in contact with that liquid, you said again "I won't drink that." Your voice barely above a whisper.

The woman didn’t respond. She held the cup in her hand, as if waiting for you drink it still.

Peter reached for your hand and firmly gripped on it, but not a forceful one. "It’s okay,” he said softly, his eyes locking with yours. “This will help you. I promise.”

You tried to pull your hand away, but his grip tightened, and the woman moved the cup closer to your lips. Panic rolled. Your heart began to beat, and tears were falling from your eyes. “No!” you shouted thrashing against Peter’s hold. “Let me go!”

But he didn’t let go. His strength was shocking and unyielding as he held your and instructed the woman to force the drink in your mouth. The dark liquid sloshed down the rim, spilling onto your trembling chin as you refused to open your mouth, moving your head back and forth so that you could just avoid the unknown and disgusting liquid.

“Please don’t fight this!” Peter shouted; his tone now laced with urgency and desperation. "It’s better if you just let it happen."

The woman tilted the cup and poured the thick liquid into your lips. You clenched your teeth, refusing to let it in. Peter’s hand moved to your jaw, his fingers pressing firmly until your mouth opened involuntarily. Liquid graced on your tongue, its taste vile and metallic like rotting herbs and rust.

You gagged and coughed violently as they forced you to swallow. The bitterness burned all the way down, leaving an acrid aftertaste that made you want to rip out your tongue, you fell on the bed as you gripped your throat—massaging your throat, a pathetic attempt to soothe the taste that felt like it travelled all the way down to your throat, it didn't have any burning sensation, it just felt like your throat had taste buds.

You convulsed on the bed, “What the- What was that?” you asked; out of breath as you tried to gasp for air.

Peter stood “You’re going to feel it soon,” he said, pushing a damp lock of hair off your brow.

It was a gentle warmth blooming in your chest, then outward like the bright afterglow from the strongest of drinks. Then it grew. It scorched through your veins, making your skin feel alive with a burst of tingling sensations. Your breaths came quicker as you kept trying to dismiss the feelings, but they just wouldn't listen.

“W-What is happening to me?” came the stammers from you in a trembling voice.

Peter knelt beside you again, touching your knee ever so lightly with his hand. “The elixir is working its magic on you,” he said kindly. “It allows you to let go. To free yourself to connect with what is meant to be.”

This warmth soon transformed into a more diabolical sensation, a slow burn that throbbed low in your stomach that stretched to your clothed womanhood. Suddenly every nerve ending on your skin was hypersensitive, sending a shiver down your spine against that crawl of fabric over your body. Heart racing, but it was hardly with fear.

“No,” you whispered, shaking your head. “No, this isn’t right.”

Peter merely smiled all the wider and relaxed his squeeze on your shoulder. “It’s okay to feel this way,” he said. “Your body is just responding. It’s natural.”

While your mind was telling you every reason to fight it off, your body would have none of it. That heat, the damn heat; it clouded everything snuffing off every thought but that strange feeling growing in you.

Peter leaned in closer as he whispered “This is how it’s supposed to be. Don’t fight it. Just let it happen.”

Your brain screamed against this intrusion, invoking all the force it could muster to reject it, to reject him. But your limbs felt heavy, thick, sluggish, as though they had been clapped into a steel frame. The drug took effect, you loathed it and wished to deny the dull calling of unwanted pleasure.

"Please," you managed to whisper, letting your tears flow down your cheeks. "Don't do this."

In every way this was wrong. You didn't want to partake in this, you wanted out. Peter was not the person you thought he would. Maybe he was before all of this, but not now.

Peter held your face with both his hands—gentle yet firm. "It's been done," he said, pinning his gaze on yours with steady resolve.

The heat had become unbearable; it drummed against your thoughts and created ceilings that pressed down on you. You could hardly breathe, each breath barely manageable since all control was lost over thoughts revolving around him. The very touch of him inflamed every nerve in your body.

Peter continued to lean forward until the distance separating your two faces became almost nonexistent. The darkness of his brown eyes was rendered soft, for all that, it was chillingly out of place now. "You're trembling," he said softly, his voice dipping with mock concern as he brushed his palm over your damp forehead, lingering perhaps a moment too long.

You turned your head away, yet your body was heavy and unwilling to cooperate. "P-please," you whispered, not even sure what it was you were begging for at this point—mercy, some distance, anything but this.

Peter's hand slid down again to cradle your face, thumb grazing your cheek. The warmth of his touch felt like additional treachery against your body, which leaned into his hand, once again, even though the screams of your mind were saying otherwise. "Shh," he said, his voice dropping to a soothing pitch. "It's okay. You're safe here. With me."

His words twisted a knife that lodged in your heart, and you were still trying to find a protest when his other hand clamped on your waist—gentle yet firm. Just enough pressure was applied to make acutely aware of every detail of your closeness: the scent of wood smoke and something faintly sweet, flooding your senses and drowning all your composure.

"You've had to fight for so long," he said; there was almost a tenderness in his voice. "Let it go—let me take care of you."

You shook your head weakly, your lips parting to say no words that would come. Everything in you resisted, heavily dulled by the drug that now crumbled your defenses and left you helpless to bask in warmth blossoming in your chest and the sickening affinity of Peter's presence.

He angled his face, gazing down at you as the thumb of his right hand traced the curve of your jaw. "So beautiful," he murmured, almost a whisper. "Yet you don't even see it? You are something else—so special."

The tears that had built up in your eyes crashed down, scalding lines down your cheeks. "Please," you said again, but it came almost like a feeble whisper, your power to protest fractured.

Peter leaned forward, and his breath ghosted over your lips. "I've waited for this," he murmured, as though revealing a secret. "Waited for you. I thought I would never even have a chance with you since you were so fucking smitten with your dick of a boyfriend. But you're mine now,"

And before you could think, hit him back or convince him otherwise, his lips crushed against yours.

The kiss was languid, purposeful, and claiming. His mouth flowed with an unsettling confidence, an almost eerie manifestation of such rehearsed movement, if it existed at all. You wanted to break apart from him and scream and fight him, but your body let you down one last time; it was folded under the drug and against the full force of his presence.

His hands moved, one remained cradling your face, while the other tightened at your waist as a gentle reminder that you belonged nowhere else. It was a kiss more claiming than forceful, a silent proclamation of his ownership over you.

He finally pulled away but only to press his forehead to yours, feeling warm against your skin. "It's time" he whispered, it was loud enough for the women to hear. They immediately scurried out of the room and closed the door on their way out.

Before even asking what was going on, Peter attacked your neck. You shrieked at his sudden actions. He kissed, licked, and bite every single portion of your neck.

Peter's hot tongue licked your skin as he leaned closer, lips barely grazing the curve of your neck. A shiver made its way down your spine as he softly sucked on the sensitive flesh, forming this sweet vacuum that made your heart stand still.

Peter kept on kissing and nibbling at your neck, fueling his excitement that grew hotter like a fire, determined to engulf you both. His hands tightened around your waist, drawing you closer as he deepened the kiss, lips and tongue moving together in a dance that spoke both pleasure and pain.

You winced; you want nothing more but for this to end. You tried to imagine yourself in another scenario, a happy one. That one time where Harry bought you this wonderful necklace for your one-year anniversary. Things were still calm, peaceful.

You were so deep in thought that the ripping sound of fabric made you flinch. You have realized that Peter has ripped off your thin graphic t-shirt, leaving nothing but your bra on full display for him. But of course, the bra didn't stay on for long.

He ripped your bra off you with such force. He threw the bra elsewhere, that was the least of his worries as your he saw your mounds with all its glory. Blood rushed up to his cock at the sight of you half naked and slightly damp from sweat. You on the other hand just wanted nothing more but all of this to end.

Peter leaned in, his lips grazing your skin down to the soft curve of your delicate breast. His mouth latched onto your nipple, and he started to suckle; the soft gentle tug sent a jolt of sensation radiating through your body. Your hands fisted the sheets as you let out a shriek.

"You have no idea how long I have waited for this moment" His words came in muffled since he was still stuffing his face with your breasts, but you heard it loud and clear. How blind were you? Peter has been lusting over you, longer than you even met him, how come you never realized it? All the warning signs were there, but they were subtle, now they're just coming to light now that it was too late.

He had grown more daring now, sucking, kissing, and licking every inch of your breasts. He nibbled and sucked at the curves, gently biting the flesh around them. Meanwhile, his hands traveled all over her torso, cupping and squeezing dear breasts as if to remember every contour.

"So beautiful," he whispered in between kisses. "Perfect. Mine." Those words sent a shuddering chill up your spine.

Peter stared into your eyes while he was sucking and nibbling on your breasts. They would have been a sweet sight if the present state of affairs were any different.

He released your nipple from his mouth, as drool connected from his lips to your erect nipples.

With urgent impatience, Peter fumbled with the buttons of his shirt and then tore it off, revealing a sculpted torso that demanded attention. The muscles of his torso flexed while he moved, and for a second, you could not help but look at the sheer grace and control that radiated off his body.

Now, Peter had long ceased to be interested in himself; he was now concentrating all his energy and attention on you. The moment he grabbed hold of your pants, and his fingers had clasped tightly around the waistband, panic ran through you at the sight of him pulling down on them. You didn't want to give in, not now, not ever.

Your hands went straight up to push against him; you punched at his chest with all the remaining strength that you have that wasn't stripped off by the drug. Your fruitless attempt on trying to gain some space between your bodies.

"Peter, no," you said, your voice wavering but earnest. "I don't want to. Please!"

His eyes never left the prize, and nothing was going to stop him. He yanked your pants down, regardless of how you kicked and thrashed against the force with which he was pulling. Your underwear met the cool air.

A wave of embarrassment washed over you as you realized that Peter was staring down at the small scrap of fabric that barely covered you in your most intimate area.

He wrapped his fingers around your underwear's waistband. You tried to squirm away from him, but he held you tight, his grip like a vice. In one swift motion, he ripped the fabric from your body, leaving you completely bare.

Peter's eyes had wandered across every inch of your naked body, you tried to look away from him, but your face was met with a wet pillow, you didn't even notice that you have let out a few tears.

Peter dove on to your crotch and his warm breath rolled over your sensitive skin like a wave of fire. His tongue flicked out as he suckled at your clit, and involuntarily, jolts of electricity pulsed up your spine. You attempted to push him off you once more, but Peter was far too strong

Peter continued his assault on your pussy, you felt a familiar sensation happening. You shook your head as your body betrayed you. Peter seemed to notice this, "There she is"

Before you knew it, he inserted a finger in your hole as he continuously licked your clit with such vigor.

You let out a strangled moan as your hand flew to his hair. Peter smirked at this as he slowly fucked you with his finger, which was a stark contrast to his tongue who ravished you like you were his last meal

"God, such a tasty pussy" He murmured, which just sent vibrations to your pussy. He continued, his tongue circles your clit, licking and sucking on it like he can't get enough. "Good lil fuckin pussy" He moaned as if he's the one getting head.

He continues to lap on your juices, slurping any arousal seeping through as if he hadn't drunk water in many years.

His voice low and soft, whispering how good it is, how perfect your sweet pussy was for him. "Fuck, baby, you're so fucking sweet—so good for me. God, I'm so glad your mine now." He kisses it so passionately, muttering praises to it while his tongue laps you up.

And as he continued to lick and suck at your clit, you felt a building pressure inside yourself. It felt like every nerve ending had been ignited by Peter’s ministrations.

Your legs stiffened, your hips jerked upwards, and your entire body began to tremble with anticipation.

With such joy and pain, you felt like you were seeing stars right in front of you. The intensity was too much to bear as your grip on Peter's hair tightened

That instant when the knot finally snapped and a deluge of pure, harmless ecstasy engulfed you, your body contorted, muscles oscillating and contracting rhythmically; an intense orgasm swooping upon you like a tempest.

Your legs stiffened and your toes curled in pleasure. You clutched at anything and everything. Peter's hair, bed linen, anything to hold on to the threads of reality, as everything before your eyes dissolved into an ocean of forced bliss.

River of tears were falling from your eyes. You couldn't help but reminiscence your time with Harry. For the first years you were together with Harry, he was sweet and loving, even if your relationship has turned sour after Harry found another hobby, he would never force himself inside you. When you had sex, it was always consensual.

With the final ripples of the orgasm fading away, Peter finally pulled his head from between your legs. His gaze brushed over you with a kind of possessive pride, and he took the disarray of your body in the messy fondle of your hair, the daze that lingered from where he brought you so close to the edge that you fell over it, and the slick of sweat glistening over your skin.

“You look tired,” Peter said with a soft almost guilty tone, "But I'm afraid that that was just to prepare you, were just beginning"

When those words came out his mouth you shook your head as you begged him, "Please Pete, please" You sobbed, your words barely even intelligible.

"Shhhhhhhh" He shushed you, "The more your accepting, the sooner this will end" No, you didn't want to accept this, there must be another way, there must be.

As he stood up and took off his pants, exposing his erect cock. His cock slightly bounced once the boxers were fully off of him. He climbed on top you as both of you were now fully naked as the day you were born.

"The bedding ceremony is about to begin” Peter said, low in his throat, his voice husky with desire. “It's going to hurt, but I think I prepped you enough”

He then aligned his cock to your slit. You gasped as his bulbous tip entered you, he wasn't big, but he was thick. He slowly pushed his cock inch by inch inside you, your sensitive flesh was still sore from the previous orgasm.

Peter suddenly thrusted deep inside you, fully losing patience, with a forcefulness that took your breath away. His cock touching your cervix when he bottomed inside you, it felt almost painful how intense it was.

“Please, Peter,” you pleaded, attempting to push him away. "You're hurting me."

But Peter just smiled at you, it gave you tingling shudders through your spine. “That's the first step of the ceremony” he said, pulling out then plunging back in. “You just have to learn to accept what I’m giving you, if you learn maybe Goddess will reward you"

His relentless cock was battering your insides, and you were starting to tear up. It was nearly unbearable agony; the pleasure was subtle that you could barely even get the gist of it, the searing warmth that burned itself into your very essence.

“Stop,” you said again, trying to wriggle out of his grasp. "Please just stop."

Through the pain and the fear, you never lost hope. So you fought back with a passion you never had before.

Your hands raked Peter’s chest, ripping at his skin to the point he grunted in surprise. Your fingers sank into his skin, but he only chuckled—a sound that was hollow and empty.

Unfazed, you fought on. Your teeth dug into his shoulder, biting down hard enough to make him hiss. But even as he grimaced, he wouldn’t stop — his hips pumping a relentless rhythm, one that threatened to swallow you whole.

You swung your fists, punching into Peter's face and chest with a frenzied abandon. Forced down in front of him as he sunk his cock deep within your needy hole, you tried to twist away, to squirm free as he held you in place, the weight of his body pinning your hands above your head, forcing you to take this.

And you tried, even though it was entirely pointless. You kicked your legs to try and buck him off you. But he was too heavy — too powerful — and he laughed again as he kept your legs pinned down beneath him.

With each thrust Peter grew more aggressive; almost brutal the heat inside you was burning you up; threatening to consume all reason and make you numb.

You were lost in the agonizing bliss, as Peter's cock continued its merciless assault on your insides. The fire in your belly grew more intense, it felt like it was spreading through your insides like wildfire.

"God, you're squeezing me so hard" Peter breathed as his thrusts slowed down just a little bit.

Yet whilst you sensed you were in pieces on the inside, that you were toppling apart, something in you relished it. It felt like your body had turned against you, reacting to the vicious attack with a disgusting cocktail of agony and pleasure.

Peter thrusts forward and you felt your hips bucking in time with his, your mind spinning in horror. It was like your body had created its own consciousness that responded immediately to the arousal with animal instinct that couldn't be suppressed.

You were losing yourself in the sensations, being sucked into a world both dark and depraved, where no line could be drawn between pain and pleasure. It was the most terrifying feeling in the world, when you wondered if you would ever find a way out of the grip of this monster who was responsible for everything.

With every thrust, Peter became more aggressive, more brutal - You could feel yourself losing control; teetering on edge, ready to plunge headfirst into unknown; uncertainty ignited both fear and anticipation.

Your breaths were coming in small gasps now as Peter gripped your hips, his fingers digging into your skin like a vice. You attempted to move; attempted to wriggle against him—but it was futile: he was too strong

This friction just poured gasoline into the flames that had been raging within you—turning those pleasurable sensations into unbearable ones. The edge of your sight blurs out; stars dance along the border of your vision as the world narrows down on a single point of focus: Peter

In pure ecstasy moment you found yourself surrendering, submitting to the wave pleasure that is tearing up your body. Its fear inducing and freeing sensation — like leaping off a precipice without a net — not knowing what awaits at the base.

The world went white and quiet. You hear Peters voice in your ear whispering "Come for me" and with that your body explodes into thousand pieces

You weren't sure what happened, your mind all fogged and your pussy sore. The only thing you have noticed was that Peter was still thrusting inside you.

He leaned as he whispered the most haunting words into your ear, "I almost feel bad for you. I guess you should always follow what your parents says, don't trust strangers"

@gloomskulls 2024. DON'T COPY, TRANSLATE OR USE ANY OF MY WORKS HERE OR ANY OTHER WEBSITES. Photos don't belong to me

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cassidyrivers · 12 days ago

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So.......I'm....angry and devastated and I can't deal with this so I'm going to vent a bit....

Bobby, a suicidal character who is once more in a good place just killed himself so another character could live.

Athena lost her 3rd husband (idgaf if she wasn't yet married the 1st time they were going to be, it fucking counts) and 2/3 are permanently fucking dead and the other one is....idk somewhere fucking probably. They never even got to live in their new house, never got to start this new chapter of their life or whatever was next for them.

Chimney, if they want to be true to his character, will probably take years to get over his survivor's guilt if he ever does or they'll ooc him and have him have no problem in 2 eps. Bc fuck chimney right?

Buck just lost the only decent father figure he ever had after he and Athena did everything they could to save the 118, and in the end, while it matters bc everyone else is alive I doubt it's going to be in any way shape or form a comfort and it will not like nothing short of a personal failure.

Eddie is NOT HERE in this episode. They've kept dragging shit they started for so long and they didn't even have the decency to add one of the main characters reacting to THE FIRST MCD OF THE SHOW? AND IT WILL NEVER BE ADDRESSED BASED ON THE INTERVIEWS?! HE WILL JUST BE TOLD OFF SCREEN? ! AND WILL DEAL WITH IT OFF SCEEN?! THEY BARELY SHOWED EDDIE WORKING ON HIS RELATIONSHIP WITH CHRIS ON SCREEN WTF IS WRONG WITH YOU TIM?!

Hen hasn't had a peaceful moment to breathe in most if not all of S8. And with the way the bobby-buck send-off was written, I see mean black lesbian is trying to dei her way to captaincy over poor white cis straight presenting man in her future storylines.

Maddie will have to balance pregnancy, a child, work, and being there for her husband and brother, even separated from how the whole thing impacted her.

The 118 just lost someone they loved and cherished bc tm wanted there to be....stakes....right.....

And to make matters worse, the "reformed" racist was there...he was in that episode. We saw his reaction, whatever there was of it in any case. But a MAIN FUCKING CHARACTER ISN'T?!

And based on the bts, GERARD WILL ALSO BE IN 8x16?!

In what world is any of this what the audience wants? Just for the sake of fucking "stakes" and fucking "realism"....yeah okay.

#911 abc #911 spoilers #911 season 8 #bobby nash #athena grant #athena grant nash #evan buck buckley #evan buckley #edmundo diaz #eddie diaz #chimney han #howard chimney han #hen wilson #ravi panikkar #anti bummy #anti bucktommy #anti vincent gerard #anti tommy kinard

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revelboo · 3 months ago

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omg, your stories are so good!! Really love that you write for characters I don't usually get to see, like waspinator, the insecticons, etc. Plus you also got me interested in Sunstorm, Which is surprising cause I didn't used to give him a second thought, before. Now I'm curious about where that story is going. Can't wait to see what you do in the future!

You guys have challenged me to write for a lot of characters I’d never written before and I love it

Where I Belong Pt 12

Bluestreak x Reader

• Waking up tangled in someone else, it takes a moment to remember that Blue had never mass shifted back after telling you all of it. He’d just wrapped himself around you, grieving until he’d finally gone into recharge still clinging to you like you’re his security blanket. Now his face is jammed against your neck, one of the points of his chevron digging uncomfortably into your cheek and his knee is between your thighs, arms wrapped around you. And he’s still out, you can feel him venting against you and you don’t have the heart to wake him. Tipping your head back to try and avoid getting poked by his chevron, you listen to the hum of his internal systems.

• There’s a soft hand on his helm, arms holding him and he curls tighter against that warmth and safety. Slowly coming out of recharge without that hum of terror chasing him into alertness. Without the nightmares. “Blue, honey, I can’t breathe,” you say and he’s fully online. Head lifting, he realizes he’s wrapped around you and he awkwardly scoots back. Forcing himself to stop smothering you and to put some distance between you both when he just wants to bury his face back against you. Feel those soft hands on him telling him that he’s okay. Reassuring him. “Sleep okay?” You ask him, somehow not annoyed with him when you should be. Have every right to be.

• “Sorry. I guess I got a little clingy there.” He can’t even look you in the eye right now, too embarrassed about needing someone to hold him. Like there’s something wrong with him for it. And you wiggle closer, resting your cheek on his chassis. See his arm lift, hand hovering but not touching and you grab his wrist and firmly drag his arm down to drape over you. “You don’t have to,” he murmurs, voice small. Like he thinks he’s bothering you and it makes you more determined to stay right where you are.

• “What am I doing? You’re warm and it’s freezing in here,” you reply, relaxing against him with a yawn. Pretending that you’re not trying to comfort him, trying to help. Servos hesitantly playing with your hair, he forces himself to relax. Willing to play along if he can feel your heart beating against him, grounding him in the reality that he’s not alone anymore. Doesn’t expect you to stay. No one ever does, but wants to hang on to this feeling until you get tired with him. Until he becomes too much of a burden.

• “Thank you,” he whispers and that almost breaks your heart. Like the fact that anyone might just actually want to reach out to him, to stay beside him is unthinkable to him. Makes you want to hunt down whoever put that thought into his head and beat some sense into them. Because this sweet bot is beginning to mean the world to you and you’re determined to protect him at any cost.

#transformers x reader #bluestreak x reader #bluestreak

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ghostofhyuck · 1 year ago

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finding out that their idol! gf overworked. ₊˚⊹ ᰔ

‧˚ʚ ───────── ₊‧꒰ა ୨ৎ ໒꒱ ‧₊ ───────── ɞ˚‧

Mark Lee

Mark learned that you've been promoting your comeback with a fever when one of your co-members told him. You're passionate about your job and this comeback is one of your favorite because of the concept, that's why you couldn't bear to miss the promotion. So when your boyfriend show up to your dorm uninvited, you knew that you don't have to hide it from him anymore. He bought you (and your co-members) food! plus medicine and energy drinks for you. He lets you rest and while you rest, you two talked about your situation calmly. Mark understands your sentiments but asks you to promise him that you won't overwork yourself.

Huang Renjun

Same case with Mark, I feel like you'll hide that you're promoting the comeback with a fever! Not to mention, you've been working nonstop since the start of the year. Comeback, concerts, solo activities, and another comeback. It's bound for your body to shut down. So when Renjun found out through your co-member, I feel like he'll be mad at you! Why didn't you tell him!? So when he visited you, bringing care package like food, and medicine, it'll come with lots of lots of lecture (lovingly) from your boyfriend! He loves you so much but you should look after your health. Renjun also told you that do it not for him, but for your fans. You only nod, thinking that you're lucky that Renjun's there for you.

Lee Jeno

Jeno would be shocked when he learned that you went on a short hiatus due to health concerns. He didn't notice it because you would convince him that you're fine everytime you two would meet up or talk. Once he learned the reason why behind you went hiatus, Jeno immediately called you. You already accepted that Jeno will be mad at you, but the first thing he asked was, "are you okay?" and that made you cry. You couldn't help but to vent on your boyfriend who silently comforted you. You told him that your health is declining these days and you couldn't properly function anymore. Jeno understands your sentiments and could only assure you that your health should come first. He then tells you that he'll drop by at your place so that he can take care of you personally. <3

Lee Donghyuck

"You've been coughing every minute, are you okay?" Haechan sent the message and then glances at the screen on his laptop. You're having a random live with a fellow member at the moment. She's building a lego set and wanted you to join, so despite having a cough and fever, you helped her. But it was quick to notice how you glance at your phone from time to time because of your boyfriend's messages. Haechan can see how your forehead creased when you read his message so he sent another one, "don't be angry, im supposed to be angry! why didn't you told me you were sick!?" once the live ended. You have to face an angry Haechan who nagged you for hours because you hid your sickness from him. In the end, you apologized to him because you knew he's just concerned for you.

Na Jaemin

You thought that it wouldn't be obvious but when you saw how Jaemin's face went from smiling to a concerned look, you knew that you were bad at hiding. "You look pale," he pointed out. "Pale? what do you mean, I'm always pale," you lied, laughing awkwardly. But Jaemin crossed his arms and then stared at you with a serious expression. That's why you have no choice but to tell your boyfriend that you actually came back from the hospital because you have to take a medicines for your health. Once Jaemin learned this he'll be disappointed that you hid your sickness from him. "You got me worried you know that? Tell me next time so that I can accompany," he said to you. "Babe, if you accompany me, they'll know that we're dating." "I don't care about that, I care about your health."

Zhong Chenle

You're promoting at the same with NCT Dream, and during your promotions, you accidentally injured your legs. You tried to brush it off thinking that it's just a mild sprain, but after your pre-recording stage, you couldn't help but feel that the pain is striking on your whole legs already. So when you got off the stage, you were limping until you reached the backstage where Chenle is coincidentally at the hallway. He'll be surprised to see you, but then helps you have seat first. He'll ask if you're okay and you tried to brush it off, that's when your boyfriend became angry, "what do you mean it's nothing!? you're limping! stop forcing yourself or it'll get worse," his tone was a bit harsh but you know that he's just worried about you, and you couldn't help but to hug him to seek comfort. Chenle, even though he's still mad, hugs you back.

Park Jisung

It was late when you realized that you made a mistake of giving your fans an update through bubble message because Jisung also suscribes to your bubble! So when he called you a few minutes after you sent those message, you just realized what you have done. "What do you mean you're sick?" he asked with a concerned tone. You told him that it's just a fever and you were advised to take a few weeks to rest, "a few week rests for a fever doesn't sound good to me." his tone became more serious, that's why you immediately apologize to him because you knew that Jisung's always there to remind you about your health and well-being! So learning that you're sick means that you just ignore his words. "Take care of yourself okay? I can't be there because I'm out the country but please, please take care of yourself okay?" you only smile as you said okay to him.

#nct dream #nct imagines #nct dream fic #nct fic #nct x reader #nct #nct dream imagine #nct scenarios #nct fluff #nct drabbles #nct dream reactions #nct dream imagines #nct mark #nct jeno #nct renjun #nct haechan #nct jaemin #nct chenle #nct jisung

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shipmansflannels · 1 year ago

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"who asked first" with the yellowjackets

yay! I'm back! the decision to open a new blog just for yellowjackets wasn't easy at all, but since it's been a year since this obsession has barely gone away and I already had an extremely confusing blog with layouts and the like, I wanted to start over with this one. hope you like it. I'll make a very simple and small prompt first, and then I'll make the masterlist and the oneshots/fanfics. stay tuned! sorry for any grammatical or coherence errors, english is not my first language and I'm trying to improve!

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who asked first with the yellowjackets girls...

jackie taylor.

well, if we're going to be honest here, you definitely asked first.

of course, jackie had already been rehearsing for weeks how he would ask you out. but she's obviously a girlfaillure, so you definitely asked first.

it was probably when she least expected it. it could be at soccer practice, or when you were coming home from school together and you had the audacity to ask her to go out with her to some hypothetical and boring place in the middle of the street… whatever.

all I know is that this little loser was eager for you to ask, and she definitely rolled out the classic, "took you too long…"

shauna shipman.

again, you asked first.

shauna doesn't have the social tact to ask you out (she's just like me), and drunk is even worse, so you actually had to make the first move most of the time.

just like jackie, it could have been when she was at soccer practice, or when she was alone enough to vent to her journal and you were able to get close to her without scaring her. anyway, the thing is, shauna was already secretly expecting this to happen (a lot of her journal pages were about you btw), so it wasn't a surprise either when you asked her out.

despite everything, you didn't have any difficulties on your first date. she's pleasant company, I suppose.

natalie scatorccio.

one of the rare exceptions where she asked first.

okay, don't be fooled, either. natalie is very cocky from time to time, but asking to go out with you is definitely one of the times she tends to weaken. so, kevyn probably dared her to do it and she just took advantage of her cooler personality to use it on you.

but that doesn't mean it's a bad thing. in fact, it's kind of a good thing (and probably depressing for her) because she only felt like herself when she asked you. I see in nat a huge tendency to ignore some of her feelings, especially when it comes to people she likes.

the invitation was probably also full of teasing on her part, from body language to the words used for it. and somehow she made it look cool and convinced you to accept it.

things that only natalie scatorccio could do.

lottie matthews.

for some reason, I'm 100% sure you asked first.

I know many of us think of lottie as a completely carefree, liberal and often bitchy enough person to ask someone out on a date. but, if we count the pre-crash, I think she was a very insecure person and uncertain of her feelings, more due to the influence of the pills.

so, as incredible as it sounds, you asked first. it was in an extremely relaxed conversation between you that the invitation ended up unintentionally, and she was visibly panicked when she agreed.

lottie is probably the type of person who has a rehearsed speech in front of the mirror while getting ready, and with her enviable style and expensive clothes (some stolen), she would do anything to make your date the perfect date.

taissa turner.

she asked first.

taissa is confident enough to ask you out, I have no doubt about that. but she definitely spent weeks planning the perfect invitation, just in case everything went wrong and she needed to run (just like what happened when she thought about breaking allie's leg before nationals).

anyway, taissa would certainly ask first and it would be quite a surprise for you. taking into account that, from the moment you accepted, you would discover that van also knew about her friend's ideas, and later that half of the team also knew. it would be a shock because you wouldn't understand tai's intentions at first.

but none of them are necessarily bad. one, is that tai was really excited if you accepted, and her anxiety couldn't stop her from wanting to tell the world. two, because she was overly excited that you had agreed to go out with her, and wanted the world to know it as well.

van palmer.

as much as I would really like to prove otherwise, you asked first.

van has the same problem as lottie, but in her case, it's excessively because of the sarcasm jokes and high charisma. she thinks she's being too much for you and that asking for something like that on this level would end up scaring you away.

in the end, it's totally the opposite, but it's going to take van a long time to figure that out, specifically. the invitation would happen when she least expected it, probably when you were feeling confident enough to pass notes to her during classes.

it's a cute invitation, and one that van would hold in question for a long, long time.

misty quigley.

there would be no other answer. she asked first.

misty has no shame in admitting that she has a crush on you. and of course, to ask you out on a date, this shame decreases even more. she doesn't even care if she will be made fun of by her colleagues, what really matters is that she planned everything for you to accept.

and when I say everything, it really means everything.

from the moment she will slide up to your table and quietly ask if you accept, to the tone of voice she will use to persuade your brain to accept, to the place she will take you hand in hand and then let it slide. … she literally thought of every detail.

and, well, knowing misty quigley's ability to create plans, the whole thing worked out… until you figured it all out and admitted that you liked it even more, much to her surprise.

laura lee.

you asked first, of course. there would be no other answer either.

of course, not ruling out the possibility of laura lee asking first, given her hidden impulsive personality, but, in this case, taking the obviousness into account, you asked, and had to be careful with every line said in the invitation.

of course, it needed to be at a time when you were alone, because you were afraid that pressure from other people would make you feel suffocated. this, of course, did not happen. she thought it was a classic weekend outing, like you guys usually did, until she realized your real intentions.

and, truly, at no point did it make her feel restrained or scared. she was ready to be vulnerable and be herself around you, no matter what.

(but, if you casually ask lottie at some point, she will definitely claim that she saw laura lee rehearsing some speeches and compliments for you in the locker room mirror…)

#yellowjackets #yellowjackets x reader #lgbt #romance #preference #prompt #jackie taylor x reader #shauna shipman x reader #van palmer x reader #laura lee x reader #lottie matthews x reader #taissa turner x reader #natalie scatorccio x reader #misty quigley x reader

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thisgirlnamedblusy · 6 months ago

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g'day! I hope you're doing well. Love your writing.

May I request a gp Donna and reader with a teen daughter who's giving them typical teenager problems like sneaking out, partying and such? Reader is scolding her but the daughter talks back and yells at her, and Donna is not having any of that and has a no one disrespect my wife moment. Reader gets turn on by it and they end up making love a little too loud to Angie's and their daughter's horror, whom apologies to reader afterwards.

Hope that wasn't too long! Thanks.

Yesss!!!! Thank you for your kindness, and for your request, and no, it's not long at all, don't worry ;) I hope you like it and sorry about the language mistakes!!!! :)))))

A rebel daughter

Pairing: Donna Beneviento x Fem! Reader

Warnings: G!P Donna, smut, Minors DNI, family fluff...

Word count: 7,529

Summary: Young Beneviento it's just like you as a teenager, and that's a problem...

N/A: Sorry about the language mistakes!!! Requests are open!!! I'm waiting yours!!! I love you all!!! :))

“Damn it,” you cursed as you walked nervously through the house, glancing at the clock in the hall often. “This is unbelievable, Donna, what…?”

When you went to the old couch to ask for advice, or to vent to the lady in black, you found a scene that, under other circumstances, could be funny. The doll maker was lying on the couch, but she wasn't exactly conscious; her breathing was deep and her one eye was closed.

You growled, clenching your fists and walking towards her, clapping your hands.

“Donna!” you said in a brusque tone, scaring the lady, who opened her eye and sat up confused.

“Ugh… Lasciami dormire,” she growled uncomfortable at the noise, but her protests didn't matter as you approached and shook her shoulders hastily.

“Sleep? How can you sleep in this situation?” you asked nervously, holding back the Lord’s grumbling grunts for a bit.

“What? What's wrong?” she asked, waving her arms for you to give her some room. “(Y/N), tesoro, let's go to bed…”

“Have you seen what time it is?” you asked again, blinking nervously and pointing at the clock. “It's 2 in the morning, Donna, and Stella isn't here.”

“Mm, okay…” the lady whispered in a sleepy voice.

“Okay?” you asked mockingly, watching as sleep devoured the brunette again. “Look, the mother of the year… Hey, hey, Donna.”

“(Y/N)…” the woman protested again, frowning.

“I told her to come home at 10, at 10! And she still hasn't come back,” you said impatiently, letting yourself fall on the couch. “This girl is going to kill me.”

“Leave her alone, she must be with her friends,” Donna commented, yawning again.

“You're always so worried, aren't you?” you said, crossing your arms. “What if something happened to her?”

“Nothing happened to her,” the lady corrected, rubbing her eye. “She's not a child. She knows how to take care of herself.”

“Sorry, honey, but I think she's actually a child, she's 15 years old,” you said, laughing ironically and nervously. “Besides, even if you're right, she's disobeyed me again.”

“Maybe you're too hard on her, she's a teenager, and she does teenage stuff,” the lady said, shaking her head. “You know she loves to contradict you.”

“Forgive me for trying to educate my daughter,” you said frowning. “Your daughter.”

“Stella will arrive any minute, stop worrying,” she said, getting closer to kiss your shoulder comfortingly.

“It's easy for you to say it,” you whispered, calmer due to her kisses, sighing and looking at the clock out of the corner of your eye. “Donna, I can't help but think about what I was like when I was her age and… Well, the, the consequences…”

“Mm?” Donna murmured confused. “What do you mean?”

“Um, well… remember that I… well… Stella was born precisely because I was careless and…”

“You weren't 15 years old,” she said, upset by the comment.

Of course it was a hurtful comment. No matter how much time passed, Donna would never understand the fact that you were very young, too young to be a mother. You weren't ready.

“I know, but…” you sighed, shaking your head. “Damn, she does this just to annoy me. I don't even know where she went, do you know anything? At least she talks to you.”

“Me? No, I don't know where she went,” Donna said, pointing at herself and smiling after a few moments. “But… well, I can think of a way to wait,” she whispered seductively, starting to kiss your neck.

You opened your eyes wide, and although the proposal seemed tempting, you rejected the woman in black with a gentle push.

“How can you think about doing that now?” you asked offended, earning another growl from Lady Beneviento, who crossed her arms with a snort. “Our daughter is missing and…” you said, looking around and fixing your gaze on a small figure that moved slowly so as not to attract attention. “Angie!”

“I’m not here!” the living doll shrieked, fleeing from your call.

“Come here!” you shrieked back, pointing at the floor authoritatively.

“What do you want, silly?” Angie asked, approaching little by little, but keeping her distance. “This is not the time to yell.”

“Yeah, well, nice try, but it won’t help,” you said triumphantly, grabbing one of her wooden arms. “Angie, my dear Angie… You don’t know where Stella is, do you?”

“Even if I did, I wouldn’t tell you, let her be,” the puppet protested, breaking free from your grip mockingly and running to her owner’s side.

“Angie, do you know where she is?” Donna asked, with a calmer, softer tone. “Come on, talk.”

“W-Well, maybe…” Angie murmured thoughtfully, but before she could say anything interesting, the discreet creaking of the door distracted you, making both of you turn your heads towards the entrance.

“Finally,” you said relieved, straightening your dress and walking slowly, controlling your anger. “Hey!” you shouted when you saw your daughter walking subtly, ready to go up the stairs. “Stella Beneviento! Come here, now!” you shrieked, stamping the floor impatiently.

The young woman walked slowly with a face of having been caught, lowering her head, trying not to look you in the eyes while playing with her unmistakable black hair.

“Are you, are you still awake? Wow…” the teenager commented, still unable to look at you directly.

“We are, what a setback, isn't it, young lady?” you said in a motherly tone. “Let's see... what time is it, Stella?”

“Um... I don't know, I forgot my watch,” your daughter said in a clueless tone, turning her ankle on the wooden floor.

“Oh, that's new. You make up better and better excuses,” you said in a mocking tone. “Don't worry, I'll tell you what time it is... it's... 2 in the morning!” you screamed furiously, getting closer to the young woman, who shrank in embarrassment.

“Really? Wow...” Stella said, seeking refuge in her mother, who silently watched the conversation without saying anything, as always.

“Look at me, young lady... you've gotten yourself into quite a mess,” you said in a stern tone, crossing your arms. “You're going to be grounded until the day of...”

“What? Why? It’s not fair,” young Beneviento protested, stamping her feet in a childish way. “I told you I forgot my watch.”

“Tell me, Stella, do I look like a fool?” you said ironically with a smug smile, blinking in the same way.

“Can I answer?” Angie intervened, pulling at your dress.

“Shut up,” you growled, causing the doll to take refuge behind its owner’s legs. “Donna, for the Gods’ sake… say something.”

The lady in black was startled but cleared her throat, walking towards her daughter.

“Mamma, io…” the girl murmured, lowering her head.

“Stella, è un po’ tardi, vero?” Donna asked in a soft tone, with a look that didn’t have the spark of anger it should.

“Lo so…” the young lady sighed. “Ma era la festa di Paola…”

“Paola?” you interrupted, putting a hand on the brunette's shoulder. “The butcher's daughter?”

“Y-Yes,” your daughter answered, looking at you briefly and then back to the eye of her dear mother, her protector, unfortunately. “I was having fun, so I didn't want to go home that soon.”

“It's not about what you want, Stella, it's about listening to what I tell you to do,” you said, with a calmer, but authoritative tone.

“If it were up to you, I wouldn't leave the house,” Stella murmured, looking away even further.

“What? That's not true,” you said in your defense, forcing the young lady to look at you. “Hey, look at me.”

“Lasciami,” the girl protested, struggling with your grip. “Mi stai infastidendo.”

“What? Am I annoying you? Is that what you said?” you asked, glancing at your wife. “Did she say that?”

The lady nodded slowly, sighing at the tense situation.

“Oh, excuse me, your royal highness…” you said in a mocking tone. “Don't worry, Stella, I won't annoy you anymore, especially since… You're grounded.”

“No!” the teenager protested, clenching her fists. “Why?”

“Disobeying me,” you said calmly, crossing your arms with a cold look. “Now stop protesting and go up to your room.”

“That's unfair!” the young girl shrieked, with a look of hatred that pierced your chest. “You can't ground me for that… Mamma…” she whispered in a pleading tone, looking at the brunette, who sighed, running a hand through her hair.

“Oh, no, no, Donna isn't going to defend you,” you said, looking away from your daughter to look at your wife, laughing sinisterly. “Isn't that right, Donna?”

“Um... well...” the doll maker murmured, moving you away from Stella, with a mediating tone. “Let it be, (Y/N), the girl has returned home safe and sound and...”

“I can't believe you, my love, the girl has disobeyed, she deserves a punishment,” you said incredulously, with your mouth half open.

“Forget it, (Y/N),” the lady said, gently grabbing your shoulder. “Stella was having fun with her friends, she wasn't doing anything wrong.”

“You see?” said the young girl, with a triumphant smile, resembling the Lord even more.

“I can't believe it...” you sighed, clenching your teeth. “Donna...”

“Hey, come on, it's okay... Tomorrow is another day, besides, Stella has learned the lesson, haven't you, signorina?” Donna said, hugging you affectionately despite your reluctance.

“Yes, I promise,” Stella said, rolling her eyes. “I'll be good, really.”

“Mm? How about that?” the brunette said amused, giving you a quick kiss on the cheek. “Go to your room, Stella, it's late and you should rest.”

“Yes, yes, right away,” your daughter said, approaching Donna and giving her a quick hug. “Ti voglio bene, mamma...”

“Anch'io, tesoro,” the lady whispered, kissing her daughter's forehead.

The young lady nodded and looked at you amused, discreetly sticking her tongue out at you in a mocking manner. You raised your eyebrows, but you weren't in the mood for another argument, so you ignored her teasing.

“Great,” you sighed, crossing your arms.

“Good night!” the girl said, gesturing to the doll, who immediately approached. “Come, Angie, I have to tell you many things.”

“Oh… girls' night,” the puppet said, letting Stella pick her up as they climbed the stairs.

Silence fell over you both as the bedroom door closed and you, slowly and menacingly, looked at Donna, who seemed in a hurry to escape from your darts.

“Wonderful, Donna,” you hissed, shaking your head. “Wonderful.”

“Come on, (Y/N), forget it,” she said, comically running away from the threatening footsteps approaching her. “It's fine this way.”

“It's fine this way? Ugh… Okay, I've had enough Beneviento for today, I'm going to bed,” you said, exhausted and worn out, passing by the lady in black, who quickly followed you so you wouldn't go down without her.

“W-Wait,” she said, following you to the elevator.

Another day in the hell of your happiness. Lying in bed, ready to pretend to be angry with the lady in black, you thought about your past, about all the events that led you to that situation, 15 years ago.

You were just another young girl from the village, another unfortunate soul who decided to be born in that sinister place. Your life was boring, but your youth gave you the advantage of seeing the bright side of things, or rather, the fun side. Your parents were always on your heels, trying to control you so your pranks didn't go too far.

Going out at night, having clandestine parties, playing dangerous challenges... At 18, that was your daily routine. As a rebellious young girl, you were the best, but also you were the most daring.

You can still feel the cold breeze of that night, when the fun got out of hand and your friends challenged you to a very dangerous challenge. The premise was simple: enter the grounds of Donna Beneviento and stay there for half an hour.

It wasn't the first time you'd snuck into a Lord’s territory, but you had to admit that this veiled woman, dressed in black, and her talking doll gave you the creeps. Of course you would have done anything to prove yourself to your friends, and as scary and dangerous as it was, you decided to accept the challenge.

Darkness was encroaching on you, and your brain was busy forming shadows with everything you could see. Still, you always considered yourself brave, and you didn't look back. Time was running out, and you were going to be the queen of the party again, but before you could take a step, danger appeared in front of you.

Donna Beneviento, the doll maker, the youngest of the four Lords, caught you. No matter how many times you humiliated yourself by begging this silent lady for mercy, to kneel in the snow, you knew it was your end.

Of course, it wasn't. Instead of nightmares and torture, you had a little chat with the lady in black (through her doll, of course). You had heard hundreds of horrible things about her, but it didn't take you long to see that you were a little bit wrong.

Visits to the estate weren’t long in coming, silent teas in which you both looked at each other, exchanged curious questions and hidden glances. Youth played against you, and it didn't take long for you to change that kind of platonic admiration for an irrational and intense love. Luckily, the lady was also interested in you, and so, your romance began.

Donna was a sick, strange and lonely woman. Her beauty struggled to show itself overshadowed by a horrible scar that you never gave importance to. You loved her, she loved you. According to you, Donna would always be the most beautiful woman in the world.

But your 18 years old weren’t enough to realize the possible consequences of your actions. The Black Gods seemed to have had too much fun with the lady in black, altering her body in an almost cruel way. Once again, it didn't matter to you in the slightest.

But not caring didn't mean you ignored the dangers of making love to her without protection. Donna didn't make any effort to do so either, but you should have known that, you knew her.

You were young and reckless, and that carelessness led to an improvised scenario, one that you, even today, you didn't feel ready for. The test didn't lie, you were pregnant.

Your emotions were a whirlwind that could devastate the entire village. You were afraid, angry, sad... Negative feelings about the new life that was on the way. Donna, on her part, saw your pregnancy as something... well, maybe not indifferent, but unimportant. You couldn't expect her to understand all your doubts, your reluctance to be a mother at such a young age.

Despite the disturbing news, the love you felt for her didn’t diminish, and, in order to calm the traditionalist way of think of the lady, you decided to marry her. After all, you already knew that she was the woman of your life. You knew it before carrying her child in your womb.

After a few months of extreme care, of insecurities you faced with Donna, a new life came into your life, a beautiful baby, a girl with visibly black hair and a charming smile. Stella Beneviento was born.

Taking care of such a fragile being was complicated, but, the two of you proved that you could do it. Holding your daughter in your arms calmed your fears, and, as she grew, you realized more and more that it was the life you wanted despite your young age.

You remembered what your daughter was like in that tender time of childhood. A nice, polite girl and, well… saying that she looked like Donna was only the surface. She was a damn clone of the lady in black.

Adorable, cheerful… That girl was amazing, she was the daughter you always dreamed of, and the one Donna loved with all her heart.

It was a wonderful time that ended abruptly with the first disagreement you had with Stella. Her rebelliousness, one of the few things she had inherited from you, soon began to cause problems. Running away, disobeying, saying bad words (surely due to Angie's bad influence)… All of that became a routine that only got worse.

Donna was a good mother, she really was, but she did spoil young Beneviento too much, something you warned her about at an early age, but she didn't pay any attention to it. You reap what you sow, they used to say.

Your 33 years weren't enough, not even… well, you never really knew Donna's age, and the fact that she didn't get old didn't help at all: it didn't matter; the thing is that you were young, and inexperienced.

You couldn't help but feel that you didn't have the experience required to handle your unruly daughter, and besides, Donna wasn't behaving as she should, spoiling her daughter, something you were convinced she wouldn't stop doing.

“What are my girls doing?” you asked the next day at noon, bringing a steaming pot to the table.

Mother and daughter were sitting on the sofa, sewing, or at least trying to.

“Così?” young Stella asked, greeting you disinterestedly.

“Mm...” Donna murmured, glancing at the fabric her daughter was sewing proudly, smiling tenderly. “Buon lavoro, Stella.”

“Grazie, mamma,” the girl said, smiling triumphantly as you approached. “Hey, hey, I haven't done anything.” she said frightened, making a peace gesture with her hands, to which you frowned.

“I know that,” you said, rolling your eyes. “Do you think I'm always going to tell you off?”

“Well, you always do,” she replied, in a petulant tone. “Mamma is teaching me how to sew.”

“Mm, that's fine,” you said, nodding, playfully pinching the teenager's cheek, which made your daughter make an embarrassing gesture. “How is it going, Donna? Is she a worthy successor?”

“The best successor,” the lady said, kissing you softly on the lips.

“Hey, don't do that! How disgusting…” Stella protested, looking away while you laughed in amusement.

“That's it, you disgusting cheesy fools!” Angie added, climbing onto your daughter's lap. “Get out, out, out…”

“Hey, give me a break,” you joked, reluctantly moving away from the brunette's lips, who laughed with her eye shining. “Well, Donna, honey, let's eat.”

“Great, tesoro… it smells wonderful,” the lady said with a tender smile, getting up from the sofa.

“Hey… the table isn't set,” Stella murmured, surely knowing what was coming. “Oh…”

“Run, Stella, run before…!” Angie shrieked, pulling on the young Beneviento's dress.

“You're not going anywhere, young lady,” you said amused, grabbing the shoulder of your daughter, who gulped comically. “Set the table, will you?”

“You always do the same, what's the problem with setting it yourself?” she protested with a childish tantrum, crossing her arms.

“I've cooked. When you cook, I'll set the table. Come on, don't complain,” you said with an authoritarian tone, pointing to the cupboard where the plates were kept.

“You're worse than a sergeant,” the teenager growled. “I don't want to set the table.”

“Stella, please, can't you be a good girl for once?” you asked, rubbing your eyes, feeling frustrated by your daughter's ever-rebellious attitude, one that seemed like it would never change.

“I don't want to,” the young lady said, looking away.

“Hey, come on…” Donna interrupted, grabbing your waist to make her way through you two. “Listen to your mother, Stella.”

“Ma, mamma… it's always me,” your daughter said, looking at you resentfully.

“Well, it's not like she asked you to climb a mountain, right?” the lady joked, tilting her head, amused. “Come on, tesoro, we'll set it together, okay?”

“O-Okay, that sounds better,” Stella said with a triumphant smile, probably holding back the urge to make fun of you again.

“Oh, you two are hopeless…” you sighed, shaking your head. “Hurry up, or it's going to get cold.”

The lady and her clone, oh, sorry, her daughter, set the table amidst playful comments. At least you expected it to be a quiet meal, that's what you wanted to hope for…

“What's this?” the girl asked, dipping her spoon into the plate and playing unpleasantly with the liquid inside.

“A delicious, warm vegetable soup,” you said, serving yourself and Donna a glass of wine.

“Delicious? It has to be a joke,” the young lady said, crossing her arms with a look of disgust. “Mom, I don't like it.”

“Oh, your majesty doesn't like it…” you said ironically, shaking your head while Donna, oblivious to the conversation, began to eat on her own. “Well, I'm sorry, but it is what it is.”

“I don't like vegetable soup, I want mamma to make me pasta carbonara,” said the girl, grumbling and pushing her plate forward.

“Your mother is eating. Leave her alone, she's not your servant. Eat,” you said in a patient tone, enjoying the warmth of the soup

“But I don't like this soup,” she repeated again, with a defiant look. “Mamma…”

“Eat, tesoro, your mother made it with all her love,” Donna said, without looking up.

“No, she made it to annoy me, she knows I hate vegetables,” the brat said, looking at you furiously.

“Stop talking nonsense and eat,” you said with a loud hiss, but without losing your patience, yet.

“No,” she said defiantly. “I want mamma’s pasta.”

“Do you? Fine, then don’t eat,” you sighed, taking a sip of wine as Donna watched, impassive. “That’s your decision.”

“Oh, you want to starve me to death?” Stella said, pointing at herself to be more dramatic.

“Stella Beneviento,” you said firmly. “Eat your damn soup.”

“Oh, Mom, you swore,” your daughter mocked, making you growl in rage.

“That’s enough,” you said, slamming the table, causing Donna to slowly get up, without saying anything, and disappear down the hall. “Donna?”

The tense glances increased the tension of the moment. Your daughter looked at you and you did the same, in complete silence, an exchange of glances that could melt the largest iceberg in the world.

“Prego,” Donna whispered, appearing after a while and leaving a plate of steaming pasta next to her daughter.

“I can't believe it...” you sighed when you saw Stella's excited look at her new meal. “Donna...”

“I don't want you to argue, (Y/N). It's already solved,” the lady commented, sitting down again.

“Grazie, mamma...” the teenager said, with admiration, eating while holding back the urge to smile triumphantly again. “You are the best.”

“Donna...” you growled looking at the brunette, who shrugged and continued eating as if nothing had happened.

Luckily, that calmed the meal, turning into something like a relaxed lunch.

“Oh, keep my dessert, I have to go,” the young girl said, finishing her plate and getting up from the chair.

“Go? Where to?” Donna asked, with a curious look.

“I'm meeting my friends, it's Roberto's birthday,” the girl answered, looking at you briefly.

“I think you're grounded, young lady,” you said with an ironic tone.

“I think I’m not. Mamma Donna said I wasn’t,” the young lady answered, putting on her coat.

“Mamma Donna says a lot of nonsense,” you corrected, looking at an embarrassed lady in black, who pretended to drink water. “This afternoon you're going to stay home to work on your studies.”

“It's Saturday,” Stella said, crossing her arms. “Stop pestering me.”

“And you stop being that… Ugh…” you said, getting up abruptly. “Oh, no, you're not going out.”

“But…”

“I said no, clear the table,” you said sternly, pointing at it.

“I don't feel like it,” your daughter rebuked, in a mocking tone.

“Well then… then… go to your room and stay there,” you said nervously, losing patience little by little.

“Mm, va bene,” she said, with a strange smile, obeying you immediately, something that was not a good sign, at all.

“Va bene? Stella… come, come back here,” you said angrily, pointing at the floor. “Stella!”

You couldn't do anything.

As you could already see, the teenager wouldn't take no for an answer, and it wasn't long before you heard some familiar noises on the roof. Your daughter had escaped again, climbing out the window.

You were so tired that you could only collapse into a chair.

“Gods... she's out again, Donna... I don't know what to do anymore,” you murmured with your hands covering your face, on the verge of tears.

The lady in black slowly stood up, bending down to take one of your hands and gently caress it.

“Oh, damn it...” you groaned, getting up and walking out the door. “Stella, I hope you're here before dinner!”

“Yes, mom!” You heard in the distance.

“Ugh...” you sighed, letting the lady in black hug you. “She's going to finish me off.”

“Shh, calm down, tesoro…” Donna whispered in your ear, gently brushing your hair away from your face. “Calm down…”

“Donna, if only you had moved away in time…” you said quietly, remembering past mistakes. “I-It doesn't matter…”

“Mm, let me pick up the dishes, and you, try to relax, I'll be with you in no time,” she said, kissing you softly before disappearing with an understanding smile.

You heeded her words, sitting down on the couch with a tired sigh. There, you began to remember better times, times when your daughter wasn't an unbearable brat but a happy baby, a polite and respectful girl.

Searching through a box of old memories, you found one of the old photographs from when Stella was little more than a crying baby. Your face was a smile, and Donna looked in admiration at the baby you held.

It was all so rushed and Stella grew up so fast…

“My girl,” you whispered, running your hand over one of the photos in which young Beneviento was the protagonist, one in which the girl lovingly hugged Angie. “Have I done something wrong?” you asked yourself, thinking, with the passage of time and failures, that the girl's indomitable attitude was your fault.

“I'm here,” Donna said, finally appearing and sitting next to you.

You hid one of your tears and kissed her slowly, snuggling up to her.

“Are you looking at the photos? We haven't changed much, have we?” the lady said, amused, also searching through the photographs, comically placing one of them next to her face.

“How funny,” you said in a mocking tone. “You haven't changed at all,” you whispered, sinking into her body, a gesture that the lady in black captured, surrounding you with her arms.

“Mm,” she murmured, snuggling you into her chest while she caressed your hair, kissing it in a loving, charming way. “Stella is certainly the one who has changed the most.”

“Yes…” you sighed deeply, closing your eyes to feel her caresses even more. “She is too much like me.”

“That's not a bad thing, right?” she asked, with a soft and melodic voice, one that you adored.

“Yes, it is… Physically it's just like you, but with my stupid teenage mentality,” you said, looking at one of the last black and white photographs (due to the time delay that place suffered). “It's a dangerous combination.”

“Do you think so?” the doll maker asked amused, kissing you again and bringing you closer to her warm body. “It could be.”

“Donna, I… I'm, I'm going through a bad time,” you confessed, putting away the photographs and drawings of little Stella. “I don't know what to do.”

“A bad time? What's wrong, tesoro?” the lady asked, with a more worried tone.

“Stella is making me crazy… I try, I really try to make her a good girl but… she never listens to me and… I'm starting to get desperate, Donna, I'm starting to think that I'm not a good mother, that I haven't known how to educate our daughter.”

“Don't say that,” Donna whispered, caressing your face, lifting your chin so that you would look at her. “You're a good mother, (Y/N), the best one.”

“It doesn't seem like it…” you sighed. “Stella is getting older every day and I feel, I feel I'm not capable of… of even making her see me as her mother, do you understand? I think she hates me.”

“That's not true, Stella loves you very much, you're her mommy, remember? Mommy, mommy, the monsters in the closet scare me,” she said, imitating the voice of a little girl, something that, at least, made you smile.

“Those times are long gone,” you said with nostalgia, shaking your head and letting a tear slide down your cheek. “I wish I could go back and... it doesn't matter, Donna, just, just hold me, okay?”

“With pleasure, amore mio...” the doll lady whispered, letting you drown your tears in her clothes, a cry of desperation and rage, of frustration, that the lady in black knew how to understand and relieve.

The afternoon passed like that, with a relaxing silence, with her kisses, whispers and caresses relaxing your worries, at least until the shrill sound of the phone interrupted that peaceful tranquility.

“I'll go, darling,” you said, moving away from her embrace to go to the vibrating phone. “(Y/N) Beneviento on the phone, who is it?”

“Oh, I was hoping to talk to Donna, but I guess you'll do,” the smug, mocking voice on the other end told you, without words, who it was.

“Karl…” you whispered, rolling your eyes as you recognized the Lord. “What do you want?”

“What manners,” the man mocked, laughing amused. “Am I interrupting something?”

“Yes, my life, do you want to talk to Donna?” you asked, looking at the lady, who frowned, absentmindedly playing with Angie, surely excited by the call, as always.

“It's not necessary… I'm just calling you to say that my dear little niece had a lot of fun this afternoon,” he said passively, immediately putting you on alert.

“What?” you asked startled. “Stella?”

“Yeah, yeah... Apparently she and her friends thought it was funny to sneak into my factory and waste my resources,” he commented, with the same arrogance.

“Gods... what happened?” you asked nervously, playing with the phone cord while Donna also approached.

“Your kid broke into my factory with two of her friends, activated two of my soldats and created a mess that I had to clean up myself...”

“Shit,” you said furiously. “Is she okay?”

“Perfectly fine, she's here, with me… hey, brat, do you want to talk to your mother? No? I assumed so,” Karl said, laughing mockingly. “I guess you want her back, right?”

“Y-Yes, bring her here, please,” you asked, breathing heavily.

“Of course...”

After that you hung up abruptly, growling furiously.

“What's wrong, (Y/N)? What happened?” Donna asked, calming your frightened fury.

“Your daughter, Donna, that's what happened,” you hissed, moving away from the lady in an unpleasant manner. “She's sneaked into your brother's factory and… Gods…”

The wait seemed like an eternity to you, but finally the Lord arrived next to your daughter, who kept her head down.

“This is yours, right?” the metal man said, gently pushing his niece.

“Karl, I'm sorry for the inconvenience,” you said apologetically while Donna followed her daughter with her gaze. “If there's something we can do…”

“Oh, no, no, it's not important. It's just kids' stuff, isn't it?” he said, turning gracefully and waving his hand. “Arrivederci…”

“Um…” the teenager muttered, scratching the back of her neck, possibly nervous because of your furious look as you closed the door and turned to look at her, arms crossed. “I'd better go to my room.”

“Hey, hey, hey… Not so fast, miss,” you said, preventing her escape with a strong grip on her arm. “What the hell were you thinking?”

“Hey, I didn't do anything. My friends challenged me and…” the young lady said, pathetically apologizing.

Donna as always, just watched, perhaps with a colder than usual expression.

“Of course, your friends… How could you possibly sneak into your uncle's factory!? Have you lost your mind? You could have hurt yourself,” you snapped, shaking your head, still holding on to your daughter.

“Nothing happened to me, see? I'm fine,” she said cockily. “I was just having fun. Besides, Uncle Karl doesn't care.”

“Maybe he doesn’t because he's a crazy maniac, but I do, Stella, I'm sick of you doing whatever you want all the time,” you growled, waving your arm and pointing your finger at her, who moved furiously, pushing you in an unpleasant way.

“You’re not in charge!” she shrieked childishly, clenching her fists on either side of her hips.

“I'm your mother, Stella! You have to obey me!” you shouted, tears welling up in your eyes again.

“Are you my mother?” she asked, in a defiant tone, getting a little closer. “Did you want to be?”

“What? What the hell are you talking about?” you asked, shaking your head and blinking erratically.

“I know! I know you didn't love me! That I was just a mistake!” your daughter shrieked, leaving you frozen.

“You don't know what you're saying,” you hissed, terribly hurt by the comment. “You have no idea…”

“Of course I have, you don't have to be a genius to see that you're very young,” Stella said, taking advantage of your weakness. “You're only overprotective because you didn't know how to be with yourself, and that's why I was born!”

“Stop talking like that, brat, you're pissing me off…” you threatened more intensely. “Stop talking nonsense.”

“It's not nonsense! You're demanding something from me that you weren't capable of doing!” she protested again, irremediably winning the conversation.

“I demand you to obey me, Stella!” you screamed, increasing the tension even more. “Donna!” you said, looking at the lady in black, who listened to the screams expressionless while you began to sob. “For the Gods’ sake, do something!”

“You ask her for help because you know I'm right,” Stella said with a mocking smile, while you shook your head. “Don't blame me for your complexes.”

“Go to your room!” you yelled angrily, pointing to the stairs.

“No! You're unbearable, mom!” the young lady yelled back, making you back away. “I can't stand you... I don't love you... I wish you weren't my mother,” she hissed through clenched teeth, making you sigh and sob louder.

“Honey...” you said with a broken voice, noticing a hand on your shoulder that moved you a bit. “No…”

Donna approached, walking with a somewhat hurried steps and a nervous breathing.

Without saying a single word, with a look full of anger, she stood in front of your daughter, giving her a resounding slap that left the mansion completely silent.

“Mamma…” Stella sighed, with the hand on her cheek and her eyes wide open.

You shook your head, surprised by what you had just seen, unable to believe it.

“Donna…” you gasped, without taking your gaze off the silently enraged lady, who was staring your daughter's eyes and getting a little closer, threatening.

“Don't ever talk your mother like that again, have you heard me?” she whispered with a dark, dangerous, authoritative voice, a voice like yours had never been. “Mi hai sentito!?”

“S-Sì…” Stella murmured, stunned, looking in terror at her mother, who remained surprisingly firm.

“Fine,” Donna said, hands on hips. “Now go to your room, and don't come out until you apologize to your mother.”

“But…”

“Go to your room! Vai!” the lady in black shrieked, pressing her lips tightly together and pointing at the stairs. “Vai!”

“Sì, mamma,” the teenager whispered, turning slowly and picking Angie, her silent defender, up from the floor. “Co-Come on Angie…”

“You'll pay for this, silly Donna!” the doll shouted, making mocking gestures in the arms of the young lady, who climbed the stairs sobbing.

“Shut your mouth or I'll deactivate you!” Donna shrieked, causing the doll to take refuge even in the arms of her young owner. “Cazzo…”

“Donna,” you said, leaving some time for the lady to calm down and approaching from behind, turning her body slowly. “Gods, Donna…”

“What?” she asked with her gaze still enraged. “I haven't done anything to her, it was more of a caress than a slap,” she said defending herself against what she thought was a protest from you.

“I know, my love… Wow, so you do have character,” you said smiling, noticing a lustful feeling forming inside you, an unexpected one.

“I won't allow anyone to insult you, (Y/N), not even that brat,” the lady said, without hugging you back, looking away. “You're right, she needs manners.”

“Mm, yes… and you're going to teach them to her, aren't you, my love?” you purred in her ear, making her hands go straight to your waist and her brow furrow.

“If it's necessary, I will do it,” Donna said, sure of herself. “She won't insult you again, you have my word.”

“Oh, I like your word,” you said with a velvety voice, approaching her lips slowly, devouring them wetly, startling the lady in black, who moved away confused.

“Um, what, what are you doing?” she asked, holding your wrists, which were already starting to play with her dress. “(Y/N)?”

“It's just that... seeing you so... authoritative, so... firm...” you said, playing with your finger on her chest, one that her eye followed with curiosity. “Donna, you've turned me on.”

“Me hitting our daughter has turned you on?” the lady asked, surprised and horrified.

“No, silly...” you said, shaking your head and pulling her hand towards the living room. “What has turned me on is… seeing you defend me like that… I’ve wanted to see you that way for a long time.”

“(Y/N), please, I don’t…” she said, nervous, while you cornered her against the desk, changing positions with a soft movement of your hands and sitting on the old wooden table.

“Shh, shut up, my love…” you whispered in her ear, bringing her closer with a soft tug on her dress. “Now, tell me how naughty I am…”

“(Y/N), it’s not the time for… (Y/N),” Donna said, opening her eye wide when your hand passed over the black fabric, noticing the incipient bulge that revealed her erection at your words. “H-Hey… don’t…”

“Oh, wow, I think so, my love,” you said amused, tightening your grip on her covered shaft, causing the lady in black to gasp irresistibly. “Look at you… You’re so hard…”

“I-It's your fault,” she said, shaking her head, but allowing herself to enjoy your intense grip. “Cazzo…”

“Don't swear, Donna,” you said amused, playing with your underwear until you pushed it aside, with your lips very close to hers. “I prefer you to use that mouth of yours to kiss me.”

“Oddio…” she sighed, finally letting herself be carried away by your deep kisses, by the soft swaying of your hips on the desk. “(Y/N)…”

“My love… I love you…” you sighed, noticing how her impatient hands fought with the skirt of her dress, releasing her throbbing erection while playing with your body to position it correctly.

That improvised declaration of love made the lady stop before brushing against your impatient wetness, briefly caressing your face.

“Ti amo, (Y/N)… tu sei la mia vita,” she whispered, taking a moment to kiss you romantically, ignoring her throbbing desire, which was already rubbing against yours.

“Mm, baby…” you purred, laughing embarrassedly at those hot and romantic whispers. “Come, I don't know how much time we have.”

Quickly, ignoring the foreplay, you gently grabbed her erection, stimulating it for a while before inserting it into you with ease, something that always made you moan outrageously.

“Shh, tesoro…” Donna whispered to you, covering your mouth, fighting against her own pleasure. “Not that loud.”

“Mm, I'm sorry… you're so big,” you moaned, writhing in pleasure at how your walls stretched to make way for her hurried thrusts. “Donna, Gods…”

The lady growled as she felt the pressure of your body on hers, as she felt that lascivious and wet embrace, as she slid with extreme ease. Of course, you weren't lying when you told her that the situation had turned you on.

That Donna defended you with rage, with fury, was something you always loved, something that made you remember every day why you loved her, why you started such a wonderful family with her.

“Fuck, yes! Oh, Donna, dominate me! Harder, my love!” you moaned loud, succumbing to the pleasure and forgetting about discretion as her thrusts accelerated and her moans lost their modesty as well.

“That's what you want, isn't it?” the lady said amused, coming out of you to grab you by the waist, turning you around abruptly, causing an annoying noise as it made the things on the desk shake. “You're a very bad doll…”

“Yes, yes, I'm the worst!” you squealed, moving eager to feel her again, rubbing your hips against her erection, one that was quick to take you from behind, moving you along with the table. “Yes, Donna, yes, fuck me!”

“Mm, così stretta…” the lady murmured, gripping your hips tightly, guiding them to her desired rhythm, only letting them go to give you a few soft, spicy spanks, completely lifting your dress.

“More, Donna!” you screamed, feeling your body tightening more and more, motivated by the moans and grunts of pleasure from the brunette. “Donna, I'm going to… I'm going to cum!”

“Cazzo! (Y/N)!” the lady screamed, panting as your body went crazy, squeezing her with your walls, causing her own release inside of you, wetting you with her warm seed. “(Y/N)…”

“Mm, Donna, that was…” you said laughing, moving your hips with her still inside you and feeling the wetness running down your legs. “…amazing”.

“Y-Yes…” she said, slowly withdrawing and covering herself with her dress, pulling yours down as well. “I-I hope Stella didn't hear us,” she said, catching her breath as you turned around, capturing her lips briefly.

“Bah, I'm sure she didn’t,” you said, teasingly pulling on her lower lip. “Well… How about we take a bath? We've earned it.”

“Certo,” Donna said, with a tired smile. “I'll make dinner later.”

“It's a perfect plan, my love,” you whispered, walking hand in hand with her towards the elevator.

Of course it was. A relaxing bath with your wife managed to dispel that bitter moment, the argument with your daughter that Donna miraculously solved. You didn't want to think about it too much, but you couldn't help but think about whether that severe, but necessary, attitude of the lady of the dolls had served any purpose.

“Stella! Dinner is ready!” you shouted, looking at the stairs, a bit calmer. “I really want to try this lasagna…”

“Mm, that's what you always say,” Donna said, winking at you with complicity, due to that passionate outburst earlier. “Where's the girl?”

“I've already called her, she's probably still upset,” you commented, pouring yourself a glass of wine and looking back at the hall. “Stella! Come down, we have lasagna!”

Nothing, silence was your only response.

“Do you think…?” the lady in black asked, frowning.

“Gods, I should have imagined…” you sighed, standing up hastily. “She's run away again.”

Just when you were about to go through the whole territory to look for your rebellious daughter, the teenager appeared before you. Her head was looking at the floor and Angie accompanied her in silence.

“Well, you've finally decided to come down, come…” you sighed, gently pushing the young lady by her back. “Your mother made lasagna for you.”

“Grazie, mamma,” the young Beneviento murmured, without looking into her mother's eye, surely resentful of that ridiculous slap.

“Mm, niente,” Donna said, with a slightly petulant tone. “Siedeti.”

The young girl nodded and obeyed silently.

Yes, silence would be a good summary for that dinner.

“Um… Mom,” Stella said, with her gaze lowered, addressing you cautiously.

“What do you want, darling?” you asked with a tender smile, looking at Donna, who did the same.

“I'm sorry,” the young woman whispered. “I'm sorry about saying… those things to you.”

“Mm,” you murmured, listening attentively. “Good.”

“I really am… well I… I was angry because Uncle Karl caught me and… I mean I shouldn't have done it and… I shouldn't have… talked to you like that… Will you forgive me, Mom?” Stella said, now looking at you pleadingly.

“Oh, honey, of course I will,” you said with a smile, caressing your daughter's cheek. She stood up and, along with a sob, hugged you tightly.

“I'm sorry, Mom… what I said isn't true, I love you very much, I love you both very much and… I promise, I promise to behave better from now on, I'll be a good girl…” she said sobbing, letting your hug comfort her.

“Really?” you said suspiciously, glancing sideways at Donna, who smiled tenderly. “Honey…”

“Yes, really, but… Angie and I have something else to ask you,” your daughter said, moving away and turning exaggeratedly red. “A-Angie…”

“Listen carefully!” the doll said, causing you and the lady to look at each other with an arched eyebrow. “You disgusting fools!”

“Angie… What is it? Stella?” the brunette asked, curiously.

“Please don't… don't… do… that… again… in the living room… or… or at least don't shout that loud… You're going to cause me trauma…”

#donna beneviento #donna beneviento x reader #re8 donna #re8 village #oneshot #requests

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munsonsmixtapes · 10 months ago

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Begging for more Eddie Diaz smut, maybe some sort of one bed scenario somehow readers a paramedic on the team or something? Honestly I just want more of your writing

Oh my gosh, thank you so much! I personally love the one bed trope so I can absolutely deliver!

Edmundo “Eddie” Diaz x paramedic!fem!reader

summary: you and Eddie share a hotel room during a storm which forces the two of you to get closer

cw: MDNI (18+) smut (p in v) reader receives a hickey

The hotel room was cold when you entered it, the air from the vent blowing harder than it should have been, sending a chill down your spine. You wrapped your cardigan around you tighter to bring some warmth to your body.

You hadn't gotten to pick your room since the department was paying for it. There was a weather advisory and everyone was instructed to stay inside until it cleared. Because there was a limited amount of money, you were forced to share with Eddie, the man you had been crushing on for months.

Well, maybe "forced" wasn't the right word to use. When asked who wanted to pair up with you, Eddie practically leaped across the lobby and yanked the key out of Bobby's hand while saying that he would be happy to.

Sure, Eddie had flirted with you quite a bit, but you didn't think that he was actually interested in you like that. Especially not enough to share a hotel room with you indefinitely.

Eddie had been crushing on you bad. The second he saw you when both of your teams were responding to calls, he couldn't take his eyes off of you. He admired how quickly and efficiently you worked for far too long before Buck nudged him. Eddie turned to him and Buck looked at you for a brief second before nodding approval. He then dragged Eddie along so the two of them could actually get to work.

Over the past few months, the attraction between the two of you was so strong that it was becoming obvious to everyone in your departments. So obvious that everyone was teasing the two of you, asking when you were finally going to get together. That you would have loved to know the answer to. If he was flirting with you that much, surely he had feelings for you, right?

But Eddie wasn’t going to do anything about his attraction, because in his eyes, there definitely seemed to be something going on with you and Buck. He would always see the two of you joking around and laughing when calls were being finished up and he was feeling nothing but jealous. Kicking himself for not doing something sooner.

Why he was sharing a hotel room with his best friend’s girlfriend or fling or whatever, he didn’t know. But Buck didn’t seem to feel the need to stop him. He even seemed to encourage it, giving both of you a thumbs up with a smile as you got into the elevator. So, if anything, Eddie was just confused.

The hotel room door slammed behind you, causing you to jump. You turned to see Eddie who looked apologetic. He was dressed in a pair of sweatpants and an LAFD hoodie. His hair was all a mess from running his fingers through it because of the stress, which somehow made him even more attractive.

"Sorry," he apologized. "Didn't mean to scare you."

"Oh, you didn't," you shook your head. Really, you were just taken aback by how attractive he was. It was so fucking unfair sometimes.

"You okay?" He asked, resting his hand on your shoulder.

"Yeah," you nodded. "I'm good." You were perfect, actually. You were sharing a hotel room with the man you had been crushing on for months and there was nothing that could have ruined it.

"Me too. Oh, I could have sworn the room had two beds. I'll go see if we can get another room." Before he could get far enough, you grabbed him by the wrist, stopping him from leaving.

"No," you said. "It's okay. I mean, you don't mind sharing, do you?" You asked, your tone coming off more flirty than you intended, but you hardly minded. You were really trying to get the point across that you were interested in him, but he didn't seem to get any of the hints that you were dropping. The feeling was mutual, but Eddie thought you were just flirting with him because you could. He seemed to be a little oblivious when it came to people being interested in him. He didn’t know why he couldn’t figure it out. There could be a flashing neon sign above your head spelling out the words “I’m in love with you, idiot!” and the man still wouldn’t get the hint.

"Not if you don't. I can just sleep on the floor." Now you were going to have to spell it out for him.

"Eddie," you took him by the hands. "I want to share the bed with you." Share? As in…share?

"Oh," he nodded. "Are you sure?" How much clearer could you have been?

"Positive. In fact,” your hands moved to his waist and you wrapped your arms around it. “I want you to hold me while we fall asleep." That, he could definitely do. Now he was actually looking forward to going to sleep, hoping that being wrapped up in your arms would make all of the scary images of his traumatic memories fade away into silence.

“I-I could do that,” he replied as you rested your head on his chest. His hands hesitantly rested on your back, mindlessly rubbing up and down it gently with the pads of his fingers. You moved away before he was ready, pulling back to look him in the eye. You reached up and ran your hand through his hair, watching him close his eyes as you scratched at his scalp.

He had to hold back a moan and if he was that close to cumming just by you playing with his hair, what would he have done if you had actually fucked him? God, he really needed to get his mind out of the gutter. You weren’t going to sleep together. Well, you were, but not like that. He really needed to keep his urges to himself. Especially since you were taken. How many times was he going to have to remind himself of that before it stuck?

He was going to keep everything between the two of you strictly professional. And so were you. Maybe if you didn’t look into his honey brown eyes or his pretty pink lips, you wouldn’t want to do something that probably wouldn’t end well. You just had a feeling that if you slept together, it would have been a one night thing that had happened on a whim to never be spoken about again. And you didn’t want to risk that.

What you had with Eddie was good and you weren’t going to let your wanting to sleep with him ruin that. If nothing was going to happen between the two of you, you would have preferred it if it meant that you could keep Eddie in your life as long as fate would have allowed.

But the attraction was building up as you stared at each other. Nothing in sight but each other’s lips, the want building up inside as you both inched closer. So slowly, as if you were contemplating actually going for it. Your faces slowly inched towards each other as you stepped closer, closing the gap between your bodies.

Eddie’s eyes widened as he realized what he was doing. He was about to break his one rule, but he couldn’t get himself to stop. Not when you smelled so good and not when you looked so fucking beautiful standing in front him.

He pulled away reluctantly and turned to face the door, running his hands along his face. You turned your head towards the tv, trying to give him some privacy. Had he thought the kiss was a mistake? Clearly since he had pulled away. And you were blaming no one but yourself.

You should have just kept your thoughts to yourself and now you had made him uncomfortable, in turn, making the whole time you were going to be spending together during the storm uncomfortable. He was never going to want to speak to you again and it was all your fault. You supposed now that you were just going to have to sit in your own guilt for the remainder of your time together.

“I-I’m sorry,” he apologized, finally turning around to face you. “I can’t do this.”

“Oh,” you nodded. Your voice sounded so small, so disappointed and now he just felt like a dick. “Right, yeah. We shouldn’t.”

“No,” he shook his head, stepping closer to you. “I want to, like, you have no fucking idea, but you’re with Buck…right?” You laughed in response, maybe a bit too loudly, but it was funny. You and Buck? Since when? Buck was like a brother to you.

“Eddie,” you said once you had sobered up. “Buck and I aren’t together,” you took him by his hands, giving them a squeeze. “Like, not even close. I thought it was obvious that I liked you.”

“Clearly not. I mean, this whole time, I was kicking myself because I didn’t get to you first.”

“Well, now you don’t have to worry about it because you can have me, Eddie. You can have me any way you want.” Now all he could think about was pure filth, imagining bending you over and pounding into you over and over again until you screamed his name. But for now, he’d start slow, wanting to take his time making you feel good. He wanted your first time together to be special.

You leaned closer to each other, moving at a glacial pace as the gap finally closed between your bodies. Your bottom lip was captured by his two and they moved together as you tried to get used to each other. Your arms wrapped around his neck as you pulled him closer and he grabbed onto your neck, pushed down on your chin to give him more access.

He licked into your mouth as he backed you up towards the bed, the back of your legs hitting it. He slowly removed your cardigan then got rid of his hoodie before pressing his lips to yours once again as he laid you down on the mattress.

Eddie slowly lowered himself on top of you as his lips moved down to your neck, peppering the spot with kisses before mixing in his tongue. And just when you were getting used to it, he pressed a few open mouthed kisses to your skin before giving it a rough such, causing you to let out a loud gasp.

He just chuckled against your skin before continuing, licking and sucking on your neck and it felt so good that before you could stop it, you let out a loud moan.

“That was hot,” Eddie said. “Wanna make it again?”

“Yes,” you replied, your breathing already labored. Eddie continued to suck on your neck and you let out another moan, louder this time. But that didn’t seem to be doing it for him anymore. He wanted you to be even louder so he grazed your skin with his teeth, and you let out a scream, reaching your first orgasm.

“Eddie, fuck.” He pulled away from your neck, smiling to himself at the mark that was already forming then looked down at you, seeing that you were already blissed out.

Eddie got down on the floor and pulled off your shoes and socks before undoing your pants and pulling them down to reveal your cunt that wasn’t covered by any underwear. He looked up at you and you just shrugged.

“Didn’t have any clean underwear. I would have worn a thong or something sexy if I had known.”

“Hey, don’t worry about it. This is-this is hot. Especially since we can skip a step. Now let me get a look at you, hon.”

He spread your legs wide and brought his face right up to it, just to see just how much of your slick had been leaking out of it. There was so much that it had made a giant spot on the bed. He then looked up at you, his eyes glazing over with lust as his lips formed into a devilish grin.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone this wet and the fact that it was only from a hickey. Shit, I think that’s the highest compliment.” With that, he grabbed a condom from his wallet and handed it to you before he took off his jeans and boxers, revealing his giant cock.

“Well, if I’m super wet, then you’re super hard.”

“Right you are, angel,” he winked. “Wanna do the honors?”

“I can do that,” you nodded and ripped the packet open before rolling the condom onto Eddie’s waiting cock. He then laid you back down onto the bed, pressing kisses to your lips before he slowly slid inside you.

“So tight, hon. But don’t worry, you’re gonna be so loose by the time I’m done with you.”

He thrusted slowly in and out of you, moans escaping both of your mouths as he did so. He was eating up your sounds, knowing that they would live in his head rent free even after the night was over. You just sounded so heavenly that he wanted to hear your moans replay on a loop.

“Eddie, sh-shit, oh my god.” This was something that you had never felt before. You had slept with plenty of people, but with Eddie, it was different. It felt so good and he wanted to make sure that was all you felt. He was so sweet and caring.

“I know, honey. You feel so good. Already loosening you up. And look at you, taking me so well.” His pumps got a little faster and your moans were louder, almost sounding like screams. Eddie had just started and you were already close? He must have been better than he thought.

He continued to pump in and out, hearing your whines that sounded like music to his ears. He was just getting started, but could see you fading out. Your vision was getting hazy just as there was a pounding on the door, causing Eddie to cover your mouth to make sure your scream didn’t escape.

Eddie slowly pulled out and disposed of the condom before hurrying to put on his boxes before rushing to the door to open it. He pulled it open just enough to see who was on the other side but made sure that his underwear was hidden.

Buck was on the other side, rubbing sleep from his eyes and Eddie didn’t even need to hear what he had to say. His cheeks turned red as he realized that was going on.

“Look, man, I’m happy that you guys are together or whatever, but can you please keep it down? Some of us are trying to sleep.”

Eddie cleared his throat, trying to play it off, but he was actually so embarrassed. Especially because his best friend could hear him. How thin were the walls? Apparently very since it seemed like Buck had heard everything.

“Sorry, we’ll, uh, keep it down.”

“Thank god. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m gonna go Google how I can unhear something.” With that, Buck headed back to his room, Eddie shutting the door behind him.

There was no way Eddie could fuck you now. He was so embarrassed that his best friend had heard everything and now he was afraid he wasn’t going to be able to live it down.

He headed back over to you and you had put on a pair of sweatpants, already under the covers and the lamp was turned off. He got in and scooted over to you, pressing his body up against yours before draping an arm over your waist. You turned over to face him, giving him a warm smile while he returned an apologetic one.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you assured him. “Believe me, as soon as we’re able to go home, you are more than welcome to have your way with me.”

“Oh, you always know just the right thing to say, huh?” He pressed a kiss to your lips and the two of you spent the rest of the night talking in hushed tones about everything and nothing until you both fell asleep in each other’s arms. Looking forward to waking up, your eyes boring into one another’s, feeling like the luckiest people on earth because you finally had each other.

#edmundo eddie diaz #edmundo diaz #eddie diaz #eddie munson x reader #eddie diaz x fem!reader #eddie diaz x y/n #eddie x y/n #eddie diaz fluff #eddie diaz x you #eddie diaz x reader #eddie diaz smut

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