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metranart · 3 months ago

Note

hi! it’s me

i wanted to ask you how would the jjk guys react to you getting their lips tatted on you..?(specifically gojo)

like you got them with lipstick and they kiss a paper then the tattoo artist makes it a stencil in red and you put it right under your boob..?

(don’t do this if your uncomfy with it! also take your time your probably busy)

xoxo,em! take care

Hi sweets, sorry for the long wait, I've been awfully busy but here it is, I made it specially smutty to compensate lol hope you like it :) btw... I love your requests ;)

How would the JJK guys react to you getting their lips tattooed on you 💋

Ft. Gojo Satoru, Nanami Kento, Choso, Suguru Geto, Ryomen Sukuna.

SATORU GOJO

Five missed calls and four unseen texts. Gojo sighs, scratching the back of his neck, he hated it when you left him on read. What could you be doing that was so damn important to ignore him.

The sound he had been waiting for since the day started makes his ears ring with excitement and without wasting a second, he opens the text message with your name on it.

Gojo Satoru's eyes widen, and his black glasses slide down the bridge of his nose almost comically thanks to his jaw dropping a little, all at the sight of the picture attached to a cute and adorable message that says:

"Do you like it?"

Gojo growls under his breath, subtly pulling with a shaky finger at the collar of his shirt, suddenly it's too hot there, his cheeks turn an accusatory red and his breathing has grown labored. Even his palms are sweating, for fuck's sake! What's wrong with him?! It's just the shape of his lips on the delicious curve of your under-boob. Shit! He's about to bust a cap inside his pants.

"Satoru-" Nanami's stoic voice breaks his trance and looking around almost as if had forgotten he was in the middle of a briefing, gets up and without any further explanation than: "Emergency!" Leaves the school, leaving behind and unattended, all his duties and mental sanity.

"Did you see the message on his phone, Geto?" a puff of smoke lazily comes out of Shoko’s curious mouth and Geto shrugs. "I saw that it was from (Y/N)." The black-haired snickers and everyone let out a unison, heavy sigh.

Gojo arrives in less time than is humanly possible at your apartment and without warning, not even a ‘hey, babe’, or a: ‘I just teleported myself into your room, hope you don’t mind’. You are dragged by your tall and strong boyfriend, special grade sorcerer and stripped of your top.

"S-Satoru, baby?"

You try to figure out what has him so bristled and with the delicacy of a saint but the curiosity of a child, he yanks your bra up, your delicious breast spills from underneath and his tattooed lips greet him.

"Shit!" is the first word you hear him say and it's almost a painful pant. "Those are my lips, aren't they? This is why you asked me to kiss that paper using the lipstick-...." he sounds accusatory but also incredibly excited.

You nod and let out a sigh that you didn't know were holding. "Phew! When you didn’t answer my text, I thought you didn't like it-"

"Not like it..." he sounds almost offended, and your bra is discarded when he pushes you on your back in the bed. "Not like it?! I love it! I want to eat you whole, (Y/N), I'm only holding back because I need to ask something first."

Being pinned down by his weight and his gentle hands on either side of your jaw, Gojo steals the little space and whispers his question against your ear. "Are you still sensitive from the tattoo, or can I give you a new one with the original source?"

He kisses your earlobe playfully, and you can’t help but giggle dumbly, as you can't help your voice from shaking with excitement. "I’m not made of sugar-"

You can't even finish the sentence when his lips begin the endless and shameless work of awakening every nerve ending in your skin, the desperation palpable in the white-haired sorcerer as every piece of clothing is torn from your body and his and discarded on the floor as impure.

Purple mockeries of your tattoo in the form of hickeys adorn every patch of your sensitive neck like a new necklace, small bites from the small curve of your shoulder to the sinful curve of your waist, nipples swollen and perked from the greedy skating of his tongue on them. Gojo is not being rough, but he is not being gentle either, he is brutal in his advance but methodical and careful that your moans do not change tone.

"I'm going to tattoo myself on you from the inside out," his warn is muffled against your breast as his mouth devours the plump peak of flesh. Paying special attention to pressing his lips against your tattoo over and over and over again, as if certifying its authenticity and quality. The silhouette was exact, the perfect shape of his greedy lips. It was an almost erotic sight for him.

"Huh?"

"Sure,” he chuckled low before keep going, “white ink specially made for you. You'll see, I’m an awesome artist," having you panting, sweating and squirming isn’t enough for him. Oh no! he needs more, Satoru Gojo claims for something more permanent than a mere tattoo. "...My tattoos last nine months inside, and eighteen years outside, they talk and call you mommy, I’m that talented, sweets" tangled between his muscular limbs, your new resting place, he does whatever the fuck he wants with you.

You feel the massive shape of his warm cock against your thigh, he’s been pumping himself no end, not letting you touch him not letting you aid him for fear of wasting his first load, that tasty, thick load he's been preparing especially for you. The mere graze of your fingers on him will be his end, he knows it, so he won’t ask nor accept your help, even when he longs to wrap your fist around his throbbing cock, desperate to help relieve the burning ache deep in his gut. Or better yet, wrap your perfect mouth around his cock and suck him off– NO! he now’s not the time for him to be negligent.

Once loaded, abandons his quest for relief and rests his warm palm on your belly massaging it as if molding it to fit something of his, while the other keeps playing with your cunt, enjoying the way you suck his fingers deeper when he turns his attention back to your poor, neglected clit.

“I never thought someone would be able to awaken my paternal instinct-... did my clan hire you, sweets?” he scoffed, playfully. He can tell that you’re close, not just from the needy moans and whimpers but the way your muscles are tensing and spasming around his digits. The desperate rocking of your hips against his palm, as a firm beg for relief.

“It's just a tattoo....”

“Na ah!” His hand continues playing with your tummy, your navel, the curve of your waist almost obsessively while his tongue makes out with the curve of your neck. “This was your way of telling me that you want me forever..." long finger prod at your gummy walls, searching for that hidden blessed spot that’s gonna make you go wild–

"Let me show you how gifted I am, my sweet girl..."

He finds it in matter of seconds, and you lose all kind of restriction and complaint and Gojo can’t help but smirk against your neck as you tighten and quiver around his digits. Pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses along your neck, his thumb pressed over your clit, flicking at the sensitive pearl as he suckles a deep purple hickey on the skin. Long, thick fingers guiding you through madness with each and every stroke, it’s too much for your poor, oversensitive body to handle.

"Y-Yes, Satoru, shown me, fill me, mark me-… do whatever the fuck you want-"

You convulse in the spare seconds of glorious pleasure before cumming with a strangled shriek, and Gojo’s groan muffles against your skin when can finally sink in one roll of his hips, feeding you that fat cock he’s been pumping to the edge just for this exact moment, buries deep inside you, kissing your cervix in that one thrust of raw meat. With an animalistic grunt, spills his soul inside your womb, pouring every last drop of cum he's been cooking in those heavy balls until he empties himself, flooding your inside with his gifted seed. A rush of juices gushes from your trembling cunt onto your connected lower halves, and you feel and hear him pant like a dog next to your ear, as both come down from the high.

"Am I your favorite tattoo artist or what?"

CLICK HERE FOR THE NSFW ART FOR THIS DRABBLE 🥵

NANAMI KENTO

He's stoic and serious, almost unmoving in his unflappable staring as you lift your shirt so he can see your new tattoo. His silent disposition is starting to make you more than a little nervous, since you know that Nanami Kento isn't exactly a crazy animal, but rather, a calm and quiet being who hides a wild side that he only shares with those closest to him. Making you wonder if you fall into that category or not, as his silence as he inspects the tattoo of his lips under your boob is virtually killing you with anxiety.

"Those are your lips, my love." You explain again, even though you've already done it three times, and you receive the same ‘mphm’ sound he made the first three times.

"Remember? -… remember when I ask you to kiss a paper?"

"I do."

"Well, I gave that to the tattoo artist, and he made it a stencil in red and then I ask him to put it right under my boob...?"

"I see."

Those calm eyes, analyze from every possible angle the tattoo of his lips on your skin, it had never been so difficult for you to read your boyfriend. "Do you like it, do you hate it? Tell me anything, Kento."

Silence and more close observation.

You close your eyes, squeezing your eyelids shut as you take that deep breath of air, you need so much, and you are about to demand an answer when you feel it...

Your eyelids suddenly open looking down and there you find him: Your stoic, boyfriend, the sensible and calm man who is always in control, kneeling in front of you while pressing his lips against your tattoo, the round softness of your boob loses its shape momentarily as the blond pushes his face more firmly against the plump skin. The most unexpected kiss that you have ever shared and for some reason, the most erotic, too.

"K-Ken?"

"Did it hurt?" he asks suddenly from his kneeling position and the threat of you stuttering makes you just shake your head. Nanami steals another kiss against the softness of your breast like he can’t have enough of the sensation. "Are you sure it doesn't hurt?"

You nod, mesmerized by the sudden attention this blond showers you with, his hands caressing your bare back from top to bottom, slow and gentle with the tips of his fingers, it's delicious and it melts away the anxiety you may have been feeling, now, malleable in his hands. You let his face sink further into the curve of the tattoo of his lips and you moan his name as if you want to taste it rolling down your tongue.

"Nanami."

"... Do you still have the lipstick?"

"Huh?" That request brings you out of your reverie a little, and you look at him with some confusion, to which he smiles, that smile that makes you weak in the knees. "Y-Yes, it's in my purse."

"Lend it to me, darling."

With his palm splayed wide open he waits for you to hand over the lipstick. Digging for the cosmetic, he waits patiently until it's resting in his open hand and before you can air your doubts, he stands up, lifting you into his arms to take you with him, those muscular limbs feel like the safest place in the world and you nuzzle your nose into his neck to breathe in his scent combined with his cologne, and it’s intoxicating, so much so that you almost miss his next question.

“I’d like to suggest a few other places where my lips would look just as amazing on your body.”

“Kento!” you startle, it’s adorable to him and closing the distance, he presses his lips to yours, tasting, nibbing and licking as he carries you to his room. “You take suggestions don’t you, sweetie?”

He chuckles at the flush growing wild on your cheeks, and you feel the softness of the mattress on your back as he sets you down with the care of a saint, before beginning to loosen his tie and unbutton his shirt. Your body shivers in anticipation and his lips curve up into the cheekiest grin you’ve ever seen him make, his large hand reaching out one elegant finger towards you and beckoning you with it.

You’re on your knees in front of him in seconds, his knuckles running down the length of your jaw in a silky caress that has you purring like a kitten, leaning into his touch. That smile only stretches further, as your eyes flutter shut and you feel the greedy grip on his lips, hunting for another kiss.

Unfortunately, it ends too soon, and your mouth holds that pouty shape that demands another sweet kiss, but instead of his fleshy lips, you feel the creamy slick of lipstick painting your lips.

“Tell me, (Y/N),” Nanami is delighted with how docile you are to him as he finishes painting your lips red, and it’s the sound of his pants zipper coming down that catapults your eyes open, “what would you think of me tattooing your lips right here?”

His finger points along his defined obliques and your mouth waters, this man was sincerely praised by the gods themselves, every muscle in his abdomen defined, those deep lines going down to his crotch giving that ‘v’ shape to his torso, that sinful path of golden hair that disappears under his trousers. It's too much for you.

"I think I need to see what it looks like first and then I can give you an informed answer, Kento."

His broad chest rises and falls violently, sweat runs down his forehead and his cheeks are an explosion of color. This is your masterpiece. Nanami Kento’s fat cock fits with effort in your mouth, but you certainly do your best to get it to touch the back of your throat with every thrust, you can feel him getting close, his thighs tremble under your hands, his forearm covers his eyes, his cheeks are about to explode… he’s too close, and your tongue curling around the tip doesn’t help him resist, you suck him off for over ten minutes and you’re proud of that pleasurable ache in your jaw when he comes shamelessly hard at the back of your throat and your name rips through his esophagus as it echoes through the walls of his apartment. Eventually, his hand stops keeping your head pressed against his pelvis, and with a wet pop, his still semi-erect cock hangs in front of your face, lubed in your saliva.

“You’re right, I think it would look nice.”

You tell him, admiring the lipstick residue that adorns the shape of his cock and balls, a crimson kiss near the base, another at the shiny, cum-dripping tip, another resting on the roundness of his coarse balls, and you love the whole image. You want a fucking mural in your living room with this image.

“Hell no,” the blonde says breathlessly, barely trying to recover from your masterful blowjob, “…no needle is going to touch me down there,” he threatens playfully but serious enough, “if you like the way it looks, you’re going to have to paint it yourself every time.”

A giggle escapes your mouth, red lipstick smeared on your lips as you grin evilly at him.

“You have yourself a deal, baby."

CLICK HERE FOR THE NSFW ART FOR THIS DRABBLE 🥵

CHOSO KAMO

Choso can't control where the blood goes since, he met you, his cursed technique is out of control. That damn tattoo of his lips on the curve of your under-boob is driving him crazy, he thinks of it and the blood goes down to his crotch. He thinks of you and the blood makes a tent in his pants.

It's a mess that he's had to control with shameful continuous masturbation sessions. Jerking himself off, over and over, with your name as a mantra and the image of his lips tattooed on your breast as his banner.

"Shit, just go away."

He murmurs with a tight voice, while his fist milks his fat cock in fast and violent motions, his flesh swollen painfully for more than an hour, he doesn't want you to come home from work and find him touching himself, he doesn't want you to find out that he lost control of his cursed technique. He had to lower himself to watching porn, something he had never done before, but it was of no use. So, he put on cream and although it had relieved him on other occasions, this time wasn't working its charm. Fuck! Pleaaaase-... maybe he needs more cream to slide better? No, no matter how much cream he spreads on it never compares even a little to your tight, little pussy.

And it is the desperation, that he is running out of time that drives him to this miserable act. He takes, that one photo he treasures so much, out of the frame and places it between his fingers, his excitement growing as he looks at it, it is working. He beats his piece of swollen flesh more eagerly, grunting and growling like a dying animal, Fuck! he's close...his eyes close in concentration and his hand increases speed and pressure as his mouth hangs open… almost there, he can feel his balls tensing and tightening, so close, just a few more pumps, a couple more strokes, a little more pressure, almost there… his guts tighten and his brain enraptures in the moment forgetting to mind his surroundings, to enjoy the divine sensation that grows and grows and grows and FUCK!-

Choso Kamo cums, hard and heavy, rope after rope of creamy cum shoots out of the head of his cock like a mockery of how blood usually does when he uses his cursed technique, the pressurized jet of creamy juice spills out and doesn't finish pouring for about a minute straight. Once his balls are an empty, trembling sack, Choso can breathe again, his sweaty and naked torso rises and falls with violence that calms down the more air he sucks, the sweat begins to dry on his skin and his cheeks feel less hot. This was what he needed, the photo helped him a lot, although he can feel how he bathed it in cum, he can fix it quickly, clean every single trail of his sin before you get home-

"C-Choso?"

His hand, which was riding out the last few strokes of pleasure on his ultra-sensitive cock freezes and his eyes snap open to find you staring at the mess he is, just what he wanted to avoid, damn it! -

"B-Baby, I-" he starts to stutter and stops abruptly when his eyes register what he did.

Your cheeks are painted a deep red but that's to be expected, what's not to be expected are the cum globes that slide down your pretty face, down your cheeks, varnishing your eyelashes and part of your eye, messing up your perfect hairdo, staining your work uniform. Choso enraptured himself so much in his own fantasy that he didn't notice when you walked through the door, or when you approached him.

Now, he has no idea how to begin to apologize, the words are stuck in his dry throat. Are you angry? Are you furious with him? Your beautiful eyes only watch him, better said, ogle him: pants pooling at his ankles, shirt bunched up to his neck, his cock limp but slowly filling with blood again between his trembling fingers, the cockhead shiny and pink and still, spewing cum to further mortify him.

Choso is paralyzed, unable to move and his mouth barely managing to open to spit out any explanation, snaps shut again from the shame that crushes him.

But that shame turns to bewilderment when his eyes catch the subtle movement of your hand gathering a glob of his cum that slides down your cheek, with all the delicacy and grace that define you, and you play with it for a second between your fingers before opening your mouth and dipping the digits between your tongue. Choso's jaw drops to the floor and his breathing hastens again, his cursed technique going out of control once more, summoning blood to that still throbbing and extra-sensitive part.

Your pretty lips curve into a feline grin that makes him feel like your prey, and he swallows hard, clenching his fists to keep his body from shaking, when his eyes meet yours.

“Is this what you do when I go to work, sweetheart?” you ask, licking your lips to collect the cum resting there, “you jerk off while looking at my graduation picture?” a flirtatious giggle escapes you when you specify, “...same picture where your little brother is, too, how dirty.”

Choso is a bundle of nerves, blood just keeps pooling where it shouldn’t, he’s so hard and swollen that your eyes drop there almost automatically.

“I’ll take care of cleaning everything-”

You interrupt his apology, raising a finger to get his attention so he can see you, as you lift your pencil skirt up to your thighs and slowly settle yourself comfortably on top of his lap, nestling his cock between your warm stockinged thighs. Choso shivers and carefully as if asking for permission, let his large hands slide down those wide, inviting thighs.

“…How about you start by cleaning me up first?” Your warm hand tangles around his firm erection and he growls low, “Then you get me dirty again,” you slide those fingers up and down on his stiffness in shameless incitement and smile when notice his eyes roll back his skull, “and we repeat it all until dawn.”

“Yesyesyesyesyes, whatever my girl wants-…” the words rush from his mouth, “…just one request,” an eyebrow rises on your face, and he grins, warm and almost, shyly. “May I see the tattoo of my lips again?”

CLICK HERE TO READ ALL MY JJK SMUT FANFICTION COMMISSIONS

SUGURU GETO

“Do you… Do you really like it, Suguru?” You ask, lolling your head forward and humming when his fingers slowly travel up and unclasp your bra, the last barrier you have left to cover yourself. Every little breathy sound you make comes ragged and soiled with a mix of uncertainty and excitement.

“Way too much, baby,” his low voice carefully admits from above you. “I don’t know why you hid it from me in the first place. Don’t—don’t do that. You don’t have to. EVER.”

Your breathing keeps picking up when he keeps trailing his hands around either side of your now naked torso, running the tips of his fingers down your ribs and slowly tracing the curve of your breast, letting the pads of his fingers memorize the shape of his tattooed lips on your skin.

“Take off the rest of your clothes,” Suguru whisper, quite suddenly emboldened by his growing need. The gentle caresses pause at the very top of perked nipple, holding there for a second while he seems to think about it. “Please, don’t make me repeat myself.”

Soon his touch lifts away and he appreciates the sound your hands make, as those little limbs make haste in follow his request, the muffled shuffling of fabric being stripped of your skin somewhere close by and the soft noise it makes dropping to the floor, close to erotic to the first-grade sorcerer. And then suddenly—

“Oh, God—” you breathe, nearly melting into the seat of his school office when large, warm palms meet your skin and slowly start to ride the curve of your neck and collarbone downwards. Dammit, why does it feel so good? Suguru Geto smirks, like the knowing devil that he is. “Do my hands feel amazing, baby? It’s just two palms, ten fingers-”

“…. But they’re so strong and raspy and big….” Your mouth babbles unrestrainedly, “touch me more, Geto….”

One palm butterfly out across your breast and you moan, lewdly loud. “If Director Yaga hears, I’m going to be so fired, pretty.”

“S-Sorry…”

Dipping and squeezing the soft, pillowy flesh of your boobs, Suguru Geto stares down at you, drinking every emotion and expression he can rip out of you. “Ho—fuck, like that.” Your approval is everything to him.

“I know,” Suguru murmurs, his voice ocean-deep and scraping across the shell of your eager ear when he leans closer from his privileged height to press one bended knee to the chair, right in between your thighs. He lets one hand drift down into the space he created and rub circles on the moist mound of flesh there, as his other hand comes up to cradle your chin, urging you to stretch your neck up and long for him. “You look so pretty like this— all naked and horny for me.”

“Someone might come in, lock the door…” you breathe in protest, remembering your shy nature, and he ignores you, slowly dragging his palm down your trembling slit.

“You don't get a tattoo as sensual as that, if you don't want everyone to drool after you,” he says, and you’re helpless to stop the embarrassing way your knees suddenly jerk farther apart when his hand moves to press a fat finger on your clit. “… Showing all the monkeys how sexy you are, and then showing them that you belong ONLY to me.”

And then he squeeeezes your bundle of nerves, and your hips nearly come off the seat with it.

Nothing else exists besides your boyfriend’s pair of hands now gripping the bottom of the chair, to position your body closer to him. You hear yourself take exactly one shaky breath before his arms suddenly slithered under your knees, hauling you forward. Your lower back dips in at the angle, your pelvis now jutted out and propped up by the edge of the seat.

Suguru Geto licks his lips as if he as if a banquet were being presented to him and the following is him lowering himself to the floor in front of you, running those deliciously strong palms up the length of your thighs. Your new position encourages you to spread your legs wider for him.

“I think my lips, tattooed here,” his long, cascading loose hair caresses the inner skin of your thighs as he leans down to the lower curve of your tummy and places a soft, warm kiss, “would look great, as well.”

“Y-You think?”

Your quivering lips exhale at the feeling of his hot, plump lips meeting your feverish skin, and hearing the sound of his breath hitch at the visual you give him, goosebumps spread all you’re your body.

“I know it,” He promises, opening you up wider, subtly moving himself closer into the gap and letting you cradle his torso with your knees.

“Mine to feast on, mine to pamper,” the special grade sorcerer rumbles quietly, his grip on your thighs tightening as he licks his lips, hungrier. “So, mine to… own.”

“….-Own?”

And then you’re abruptly cut off by your own gasp when a soft, dexterous tongue slowly envelopes your clit. His lips slick between your folds as his rogue tongue flicks out like hot velvet to flutter greedily over your clit, humming low in his throat as he eats you with unreserved gluttony.

“Fuck, this is heaven. This is fucking heaven,” he rumbles against your sloppy pussy, “my sweet girl laying with her legs open and letting me eat her after I’m done giving classes—….”

“Su-Sugu… oh, fuck—” Your words are barely discernible through the pleasure, deformed by the sound of your breaths and gasps. “Do—Do you think someone can h-hear us?”

Suguru smirk is swallow by your folds and his snicker muffled by his need to keep eating you to even let you know that a six eyes user had been spying from the other side of the door since you started.

“Noones at the school at these hours but us teachers, baby. Don’t worry your pretty head.”

His fingers curl against your thighs, his tongue swirling gentle circles around your swollen clit as he sinks two of his thick fingers deep inside your cunt. Both of your hands thrust out without thinking and snatch at his loose raven mane, fingers burying themselves into thick waves of hair. “Oh—f-fuck—”

He makes a rough little growl into your warmth every time you tug on his hair, and you tug every time, he pulls his fingers out and then pushes them back in again, until it becomes a vicious circle where both do that steadily, over and over until you’re sweating, hips arching up and doing everything you can to entice him to hurry the fuck up.

Suguru snickers again at your impatience, instead, he’s unbelievably slow, continuing to lick his hot tongue through your folds as his eager finger fuck you, so utterly patient and steadfast, learning the right notes to drive you crazy.

“You are close, aren’t you, dove?” he flicks that wicked tongue applying more pressure to your abused clit, “something’s beginning to burn in your core, I can see the cursed energy spreading threateningly along the muscles in your pelvis.” Suguru narrated what he felt with his own cursed energy, without a doubt the out-looker seeing the same as he was, just in HD. “It rises through your abdomen like unstoppable wave, seeps down into your knees and wraps around them. Your breathing is getting shallower, the base of your lungs suddenly feels too cramped by the oncoming explosion. I know, baby, just let it happen, don’t hold back. You can squirt on my face. I’m eager for you to baptize me on your fountain of love—”

“Stop it, Suguru… I’m-I’m not…. I will not….”

Your resistance is nothing but amusing to him, this is your nemesis. You hate how sensitive you are, how easy your boyfriends read you and undoes you with his mere tongue, you hate that squirting jet that makes your toes curl and your eyes blank, but once it’s over, makes you very aware of the mess you made.

Suguru finally speeds up, and that rock steady display of ferocity makes you want to cry.

“—I-I’m gonna cum,” you breathe, everything inside pulling up fierce and tight, your chest heaving and your grip in his hair turning to iron. “—Oh, fuck, I’m g-gonna cum—I-I—”

A quiet mhmmm sound rumbles low in gentle encouragement, and then he takes a second to softly suck on your clit to push you over the edge. His fingers curl, press up hard against something absolutely fucking devastating inside you, Suguru Geto knows you so well is almost unfair, and bite your lip is all you can do to stifle a sob when your body suddenly erupts in searing burning ecstasy.

Your back arches and you cum in his mouth, wailing his name while he groans raggedly and drags you through it. It’s hot and wet, in equal parts chaos and bliss. You’re still trying to calm your breathing when a gentle softness presses against your lips, mindful of rewarding you with as much love as he can profess in one single, chaste kiss. It’s over way too soon though, and by the time you open your eyes again, you blearily blink them at him. He’s already standing, impeccable and not one strand of raven hair out of place. A swift smirk curving his lips while his stare never strays from your destroyed persona, heaving and sweating and naked in a public place. Fuck! He adores you so much.

“Are you hungry?” He eventually asks looking straight ahead instead of you, the low frequency of his natural voice not masked anymore by his arousal.

You blink up at him twice, still slouched over the seat butt-naked, trying to figure out who is he talking to, all your clothes spread around his desk and the floor when you hear some familiar voice answer from the other side of the door.

“Starving.”

CLICK HERE TO READ ALL MY JJK SMUT FANFICTION COMMISSIONS

RYOMEN SUKUNA

The euphoric sway of his hips meeting yours should be an affront to the natural order, your boyfriend, Ryomen Sukuna, had been maintaining the same rhythm, precision and firmness in each thrust for more than forty minutes.

You are cockdrunk, you don’t remember your own name, only his. Which comes out of your trembling lips in pieces or unfinished syllables. Your mind is a mess, a rabid mess of hormones and pleasure, but your insides are the most affected, making you endure mini-orgasm after mini-orgasm that shake your frame violently, leaving all your muscles exhausted and sweaty. Breathing ragged, face pressed against the sheets of his bed and your wrists swallowed by his large hands against the firm mattress, while he introduced you again and again to your new deity, his thick cock, which seemed just as hard and ready to continue making a mess of you.

“…I’m sure you’ll think twice about pulling a stunt like that again now, won’t you, princess?”

Although his voice was breathless, it was still firm and solid, not like your pathetic moans.

“I…I thought you’d-…that you’d like it, Kuna-...” That sentence trailed from your half-open lips, between a sigh and a moan as he changed the angle to hit that spot of nerves inside you that made you see stars.

“I know you meant well but it was still unacceptable,” your boyfriend scolds you again, and a delicious shiver runs down your spine as his hands abandons your wrists in order to better hook on either side of your hip. The mere sensation of his thick fingers digging into your soft skin makes you cum again. "Fuck- you squeeze me so good, baby..." he praises, plunging his massive cock deeper into your quivering hole just to draw out more sensations, "-.... shit! If I cum again, are you going to keep it warm for me inside your tummy, princess?"

"Kuna, yes, always..." you moan into the sheets miserably, "don't stay mad at me, please, my love-"

"I loved the tattoo of my lips on your under-boob, don't doubt that" he affirms, firm thrusts clapping his midsection with yours, like giving his stamina a cheer. "But I HATED the fact that some guy had to do it. Don't you know any female tattoo artists, Isn't this the era of women's empowerment?"

You crawl forward and he catches you before you can shift positions. "Kuna, baby... let me ride you, so I can control the speed... I can't cum again-"

"I. Don't. care." He replies, skewering you again on his veiny, thick piece of meat that still feels like stone. "I'll put it in you as fast as I want and as long as I want until you learn your lesson-"

"Which is?"

"You, cocky little thing." He chuckles and emphasizes each word with a thrust. "Nobody. Touches. You. But. ME! Just ME."

“Mine.” Thrust, “Mine~” thrust, thrust, thrust, “MINE.” Thrustthrustthrustthrustthrustthrust—

Sukuna doesn´t hold himself back, even after he comes for the sixth time, he keeps going.

Slipping in and out of you, still rock hard, twisting you uncaringly in all kinds of positions and surfaces that his room provides, just fucking his cum inside you with every unpunished thrust.

You are tired, you are actually exhausted, you are emotional-... and you are drained.

“—I'm yours, just yours... hands off, w-world.... just y-yours~”

His hips stop, finally halting all movement when you give him what he's looking for, he just wants to hear that over and over again from your quivering lips and raspy throat, he just wants you to say it again. Maybe you should tattoo that as well.

Making you come one last glorious and almost painful time. Your naked body is left, used, sweaty and worn but warmly and safely wrapped in his arms. A huge smirk on his lips before he kisses your eyelids, so you open them again and once again you do.

"Now that we got that out of the way, let me see it again..." Sukuna asks, gently squeezing your tattooed boob inside his large palm, letting his eyes scan each patch of skin and how well he marked you with little hints of hickeys and teeth. "...I think we can play twister with every mark I left on your body," he snickers amused, "...but let's start with those lips on your breast."

“Jerk.”

He grins, satisfied. Hugging you harder to plaster your form closer to him, squeezing that sassy grin out of your pretty face.

CLICK HERE FOR THE NSFW ART FOR THIS DRABBLE 🥵

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guiltyasdave · 5 months ago

Text

like snow on the beach

pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader

word count: ~2.8k

summary: You're on a work trip with your boss, who you don't like and who you're convinced doesn't like you either. Unfortunately, there's only one bed.

tags/warnings: only one bed trope (ayyyy), fluff, idiots in love, alternating povs, reader has hair that drips down her neck after showering at one point but there are no texture or color descriptors, able-bodied reader, no use of y/n, my nonexistent knowledge of colombian geography which i'm asking you to ignore for the sake of this silly story THANK YOU

a/n: my entry for the summer lovin' challenge brought to us by queens @pedgito, @chaotic-mystery and @amanitacowboy <3 i got the moodboard you see in the header and the location by the water. i'm also posting a little early but i'm too excited and it's almost midnight here so i think it's gonna be fine hehe

biggest love to @sizzlingcloudmentality who held my hand through writing this and patiently listened to all my complaints lol. i love drinking more caffeine than pedro and writing with you while getting distracted by cats <3

dividers by @plum98!

find my full masterlist here and follow @guiltyasdavenotifs to get notified when i post a new fic :)

You’re hot, too hot.

It’s disorienting, as you blink awake, slow to get your bearings. Arms are wrapped around you, caging you in, engulfing you in the warmth of the body pressed against your back. Hot air is fanning against your neck, accompanied by a scratching sensation on the sensitive skin.

Your surroundings are unfamiliar, faded wallpaper in an unappealing shade of green and light filtering in through the battered up blinds. It comes back to you in pieces, the motel you’re staying at, the small Colombian town where you’re hoping to get a hold of one of the Cali cartel men.

The obnoxious scent of Peña’s aftershave is flooding your nostrils, paired with the traces of tobacco that follow him everywhere he goes. It’s honestly embarrassing, how easily you recognize it.

It clicks into place now. The arms around you, the warmth. The scratch that you now realize is his mustache as he’s breathing against your neck.

You start wriggling around, causing the man behind you to stir, a confused groan coming out slightly muffled, his mouth still so close to your skin. He lets go of you after a second, allowing you to turn around and glare at him.

His face is already forming his signature annoyed scowl, an expression that you’re more than well acquainted with.

“What the hell are you doing?!”

He sounds different like this, voice still thick with sleep, a hint of the disorientation that you’ve shaken off by now.

“What am I doing? I woke up with your arms around me, Peña.”

He blinks, shifting to sit up and lean against the headboard. You mirror him, putting as much space between you as the rather small bed frame allows.

“Sorry,” he allows after a beat, running a hand through his hair, tousling the mess of black strands that has formed in his sleep. “That wasn’t… appropriate. I apologize.”

If you weren’t as annoyed right now, you’d probably think that he looks adorable like this. The you from a few months ago would most likely go wild at seeing Javier Peña right after waking up, after he held you in his arms no less.

The you from a few months ago hadn’t experienced what an asshole of a boss he could be yet, hadn’t been taken off investigations again and again, because Peña thought you weren’t ready. She also hadn’t heard about his terrible reputation with women, hadn’t been subjected to all the office gossip that surrounded him yet.

Now, after days of practically begging him to take you along on this trip because the whole investigation was based on information that you had gathered, you’re stuck in this motel room with him. Something about your booking of two single rooms accidentally having been processed as one double room, with no other rooms available because of course there weren’t.

Peña had offered to sleep on the ground, or in the car, but you had waved him off, thinking about how often he had complained how his back was getting worse the older he got on the drive here. You hadn’t expected to wake up to him all but wrapped around you.

Maybe a small, very small part of you is still going wild about it. A part that you can easily swallow down though. He’s objectively attractive, yes. Doesn’t change the fact that he’s an asshole.

“Just forget it,” you mumble, heat rising belatedly in your cheeks. Gathering your clothes for the day, you flee to the bathroom, eager to wash the whole decidedly weird situation off your body and out of your mind. You’re here because you have a job to do, not to get flustered around your boss.

When you reemerge, wet strands of your hair dripping down your neck, he’s already dressed, clasping his hands in a way that almost seems nervous. If you weren’t pretty convinced that Javier Peña isn’t physically able to get nervous.

“I– I’m really sorry,” he repeats, raising from the worn down arm chair he’s been sitting in. “I didn’t mean to put you in an uncomfortable position. I’m not– I’m not exactly used to sharing a bed.”

A scoff leaves you at that. Sure, Agent Peña, who’s notorious for sleeping with his informants and with at least half of the female staff of the American embassy, isn’t used to sharing his bed.

“Don’t worry about it, Peña.”

You turn away before he can reply, collecting your notes on the investigation that you hope will come in helpful eventually. You don’t catch the remorseful look in his eyes, or the way they linger on you as you open the door, the early morning light illuminating your figure.

It’s another day filled with nothing but waiting and growing frustration, just like the one before. The sun is beating down on the car that you’re occupying, the heat suffocating even with the windows rolled down and the cool bottle of water that you’re pressing against your neck.

Minutes tick by, turning into hours that go by too quickly and seem to last forever at the same time. Peña is surprisingly quiet, not goading you in the way you had expected him to.

“Maybe the information was bad,” you mumble eventually, sinking deeper into the car seat. The leather is sticking uncomfortably to your skin and you can’t shake the growing feeling that you’ve insisted on coming out here for nothing.

He slowly turns his head in your direction, regarding you through the dark tint of his aviators.

“I looked at it. We wouldn’t be here if it was bad.”

You huff, your patience running short and shorter at the subtle indication of his superiority, his quiet arrogance, always so fucking sure of himself.

“You weren’t exactly thrilled about coming here, remember?”

He raises a brow, a hint of impatience on his own features.

“I wasn’t thrilled about you coming here.”

You roll your eyes, openly scowling at him now.

“It’s my intel.”

“Doesn’t make it less dangerous, does it?”

Biting your lip, you force your blood to not boil over. He’s still your boss, at the end of the day, someone you probably shouldn’t start cussing out, no matter how openly he underestimates you and how badly it annoys you. And you’re gonna have to share that wretched bed with him again tonight.

Javier watches your face, watches you swallow down your anger, watches your teeth digging into your plush bottom lip. He understands your frustration, understands that no part of this trip is turning out the way you expected it to.

You’re still new to the workfield, not yet experienced with the hours upon hours of waiting, more often than not without a satisfying result to show for it. If he’s being honest with himself, he isn’t mad about it this time. He’ll rather have you frustrated than in danger.

You want to prove yourself, you’ve made that abundantly clear. You work hard, determined to bring in results, hungry for praise. It’s not that he doesn’t see that, doesn’t think that you’re capable. But he’s seen enough, enough injuries, enough psychological trauma, enough deaths, to know that he wants you far away from that side of your work.

Even if that means you’re angry at him more often than not, a glint of bitterness in your eyes every time he refuses to send you out yet again.

After another few hours, accompanied by the increasing rumbling in both your stomachs, he finally calls it quits for the day.

“We can drive back to Bogotá tomorrow,” he quietly offers on the way back to the motel, after picking up food for the both of you and refusing to let you pay for your share. “Gather more information, see why we didn’t find anything.”

You huff in return, irritated about the whole situation. The one chance you had to convince him to take you seriously, and this is what you get. “Fine,” you agree, gritting your teeth. Maybe your intel was bad. Maybe you just aren’t that good at your job.

“Keep to your side of the bed tonight,” you grumble later, after the bored woman at the reception told you that there still aren't any other rooms available.

“Of course,” he sighs, sliding under the covers with the biggest possible distance from you.

You nod, closing your eyes and willing for sleep to take you, but it’s a losing game. You toss and turn, feeling both too hot and too cold at the same time, unable to find a comfortable position and to get the voices in your head to shut up.

When you roll over yet again, his voice rings through the dark, somewhat agitatedly asking what’s wrong.

“Nothing,” comes your frustrated reply, pressing your face deeper into the cushion, your eyes squeezed shut. After a few more breaths and zero sign of your brain slowing down, you turn towards him, only able to make out his silhouette in the dark. Your judgment is probably hazy with how tired you are, but the words are out of your mouth before you can think them over.

“Can I ask you a question, Agent Peña?”

“Javier is fine.”

Your heart gives a tiny flutter, despite your conflicted feelings about him, despite the question that you’re about to ask.

“Why do you not like me?”

It’s inappropriate, especially right now, lying in the dark and sharing a fucking bed with him. But you think that if you don’t ask now, you probably never will, and you need to know.

“Why would you think that I don’t like you?”

You huff, squinting at him. “It’s pretty obvious. You don’t trust my work, you never send me to go out, dismiss my intel most of the time–”

It’s silent for a long time, safe for his quiet breaths.

“That’s not–” He sighs deeply, turning his head towards you as well. “That’s not true. You’re making it about yourself when you shouldn’t. I treat you exactly like your colleagues, you’re the one taking it personal.”

It’s curt, dismissive. Laced with carefully feigned indifference, bordering on coldness. Too carefully. You didn’t think he’d lie to you if you asked him this directly, but here you are.

Blinking back angry tears, you roll onto your back again, unseeingly staring at the ceiling. You don’t understand why it hits you like this. You’ve had shitty bosses before, far worse than Peña. You’ve just never wanted them to like you the way you want him to.

“Good night, Agent Peña.” You turn onto your other side, your back towards him.

“Good night,” comes his solemn reply.

You don’t wake up with his arms around you again, thankfully, but he hasn’t exactly kept to his side of the bed either. One hand is curled over your shoulder, like he had to reach out and hold onto you in his sleep.

You’re the one taking it personal.

Clearly he hasn’t been reaching for you specifically. It’s probably just second nature for him, something that usually goes well with the women sharing his bed.

You’re able to shake his hold off without waking him up, something that you’re grateful for.

When he wakes and repeats how he thinks you should abandon the investigation, you don’t argue. It’s a quiet affair, packing up and getting ready to leave.

Sitting in the driver’s seat, he turns to you, his brow furrowed into that moody expression you’ve gotten used to. “I’ve been thinking,” he begins, eyeing you warily. “We’re not far from the ocean right now. Have you been to the beach since you came to Colombia?”

You raise an eyebrow in mild suspicion, curious where he’s going with this.

“I haven’t been out of Bogotá since I landed there. But–”

His eyes grow softer, his hand twitching like he almost reached out towards you.

“No buts. At least then it won’t have been a total waste of time to come here, right?”

The dig towards you, towards the reason you drove all the way out here for nothing isn’t lost on you. You don’t have it in you to argue against it, so you just nod, staring straight ahead.

Javier realizes how badly you misunderstood his words as soon as they’re out of his mouth and he sees your face. He doesn’t know how he consistently manages to fuck up his interactions with you like this. It’s not him, the blundering, the words constantly coming out all wrong, but you make him nervous in a way that he hasn’t experienced in years.

He starts driving, hopeful to somehow still be able to turn this trip around. There’s a whole day on the road ahead of them, and he’d much rather spend those hours without feeling like he’s made you hate him.

You do soften at the sight of the ocean, the sound of waves rolling against the shore having a soothing effect almost instantly. It’s beautiful, the water a brilliant blue, the sun glittering on the surface. You can’t be mad right now, not even at Javier, who’s keeping his distance, letting you wander along the shore by yourself.

You focus on taking in the scenery, hoping to somehow take it with you to when you’re back in your bleak, government issued apartment, staring at the vastness of gray buildings that is of Bogotá.

When you turn back to him, his eyes are already on you, less tense, more open than you’re used to. You don’t know how long they’ve been lingering on you, how little attention he had been paying to the nature surrounding you. How good it had felt, to see you like this, without the usual distaste in your face that you have come to regard him with most of the time. The silhouette of you against the bright sky, your skin glowing under the beaming sun.

“Thank you,” you say, actually smiling at him. A spark of warmth grows in his chest. “This was a good idea, I– I enjoyed it.”

“I’m glad.” He eagerly returns the smile, allows himself to reach out and graze one finger against the soft skin of your hand. Finding himself unable to stop touching you, now that he’s had a taste of it.

Confusion crosses your face before you quickly avert your eyes, but you don’t pull away. It gives him a sliver of hope, that maybe you’re starting to understand what he doesn’t know how to tell you.

After a mostly quiet drive back, both of you too exhausted to talk much, Javier drops you off at your apartment, his hand once again hovering over yours before you get out.

“Good night,” he breathes, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. After a moment of hesitation, he continues on. “You– you’re doing good work. Don’t beat yourself up over this, okay?”

You manage a nod, murmuring thank you, Javier before opening the car door and stepping out onto your street, illuminated by the glow of yellow lights. You only realize that you used his first name by the time that your apartment door falls shut behind you. It doesn’t bother you as much as you thought it would.

Breathing in the familiar scent of your own place, a deep relief washes over you, reveling in the knowledge that you’re gonna sleep in your own bed tonight, alone. You turn on your shower, eager to let the warm water soothe your muscles, stiff from spending the entire day in a car.

When you exit the bathroom, wrapped into a towel and with a cloud of steam accompanying you, your answering machine is blinking. You press the button to let the message play, moving through your apartment to put on your comfiest sleepwear and ready to fall straight into bed.

You stop in your tracks when Javier’s voice rings through the room, tripping over the words in a way that’s difficult to associate with the calm, self-assured man that you know.

“Hey, it’s Javier. You– you’re probably showering, or already asleep. I just– I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings these past days, or– or any day, really. I wanted you to know that. You’re good at what you do, you really are, but– I worry about you, I guess. And I know that I shouldn’t, that I shouldn’t treat you differently. It’s– it’s not because I don’t like you. I like you too much, if anything, and– and now I know what it’s like to sleep next to you, and– anyway, I’m– shit, I’m making a fool of myself. Just– just call me back. Please.”

Your hand finds your phone as soon as the recording ends.

thank you for reading! as always, reblogs, comments and asks are love and absolutely make my day <3

#SummerLovin24 #javier peña #javier pena x reader #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena x you #javier pena narcos #javier peña x f!reader #javier peña x female reader #janas fics

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ros3ybabe · 8 months ago

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🎀 Hobbies 🎀

I feel as tho I don't have much time to do things besides school, work, some chores, and survive right now, but I've been thinking about some hobbies I enjoy and would like to incorporate into my life when I decide to make the time without burning out!

Reading - I used to be big on reading just about any books I could get my hands on. Then I was really focused on reading self help, and now that I haven't been reading at all, I've been thinking about getting back into reading. Always looking for book recommendations, and I do have my eye on some books I'd like to purchase.

Gardening - if I had the time and space, I'd love to have a flower garden or a vegetable garden. It always makes me happy when the fruits of my efforts come to life, so tending to plants and gardening sounds super fun and relaxing.

Video Games - I used to play video games on and off, but I wouldn't mind owning a PS4 or a Switch and spending some time playing video games whenever I'd want time to wind down.

Cooking/Baking - I love learning things, and the sense of pride I've gotten in the past when receiving praise for things I've cooked or baked has really driven me to want to increase my skill. I've only baked something from scratch once in my life, but I'd really like to expand my skills in making desserts.

Exercise - I'm talking all forms of it! Dancing, martial arts/kickboxing type activities, yoga, pilates, running, swimming, spin/cycling, weight lifting (again), calisthenics, all of it! I don't currently look like the exercise type but I find various forms of movement to be so fun! If I had more time, I'd be trying new things all the time!

Volunteer work - This is something I used to do all the time, and it's a hobby that I enjoyed that kept me humble. Not only that, but I thoroughly enjoy showing kindness and compassion to others. Making a difference in anuwau brings me so much joy, and I love meeting new people and learning their stories. I also would love to volunteer with animals, because they deserve so much love and affection too!

Drawing/Art - I used to draw for fun but when I started college, I didn't have the time to devote to continuously increasing my art skills. I still own a sketch kit, coloring materials, and several sketchbooks so it really is a matter of having time.

Crochet - The thought of making things that I can gift to others seriously makes me so excited!! Crochet seems like such a fun, crafty, relaxing activity and the added fun of gifting those crafts to others would make it so fun!!

Scrapbooking - I don't know if I'd ever do this one, but I do Ike the idea of keeping my memories in a physical space, and not just in like pictures on my phone.

Learning - if school wasn't crazy busy, I'd spend all my time learning languages (ASL, Japanese, Spanish, Korean, Mandarin, Italian, etc), computer coding skills, how to make and do certain things, just anything I can do to keep my mind enriched.

Upcycling/Altering Clothes - I would love to upcycle or alter articles of clothes into more personalized pieces for myself. The thought of having a personalized, hand made closet full of clothes makes me really want to buy a sewing machine and learn how to use it to my advantage!

That's all I can think of for now that I'd like to someday incorporate into my life. Having hobbies is always so fun, but I've been so busy and tired that I don't mess with any of the hobbies I'd want to do. If anyone has any tips for time management, or resources for beginning new hobbies, please let me know!!

til next time lovelies 🩷

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andvys · 10 months ago

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Dancing with our hands tied | Prologue

I knew there was no one in the world who could take it I had a bad feeling

Warnings: mentions of injuries, bruises and scars, mention of the upside down, this is post s4, enemies to lovers. mentions of death and the upside down. readers features are not mentioned, besides the accident with the hair dye in the past

Pairing: Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Summary: You and Steve have never seen eye to eye, and it never changed, not even when you were pulled into a world of monsters and risked your life to save him. But tension had always been between you both, something that neither of you ever wanted to admit -- but how much longer can you take it when the pull between you gets stronger and stronger each second you spend by each others side?

Word count: 3.6k+

Author's note: A new fic and another shoutout to my queen @hellfire--cult 🤍 thank you for working on the ideas for this story with me, I'm so excited for this one!

You’re running through the darkness, barefoot, the soil feels wet and slippery beneath your feet, twigs and branches scratch your skin open, the air feels icy cold, the wind blows through your hair and goosebumps arise on your skin, though not because of the cold but because of the growling behind you, the creatures that reach for you, that scream for you, that want your blood and your flesh.

Your lungs feel on fire and so do your legs, but you don’t stop running.

You run faster and faster, hoping to find shelter though this forest seems so big and never ending, there is no way out of this, no way out of here.

There is no shelter and there is nowhere to run – and yet, you don’t stop, you don’t let them get to you, you don’t let them touch you.

Rain starts falling, thunder rumbles through the woods and the ground beneath you suddenly starts shaking, making your knees buckle.

Desperation clings onto you, you can’t fall, if you do then you lose.

The sky becomes redder, shining angrily, the lightning now comes for you, crashing down on the ground right before you, causing you to yelp in surprise.

And that is all that it took, an obstacle thrown into the path that was destined for you to stay on. It caught you off guard, you no longer looked at the way before you, you slowed down and you slipped on the muddy ground.

You can feel yourself falling and it feels as though it takes forever for you to crash, you can feel the breath getting knocked out of you, you can feel the tear running down your cheek, you can feel the darkness taking ahold of you and despite knowing that you are going down, the fall still startles you, making you whimper in pain when you hit your head on something, your vision blurs and your skin aches and despite it, you push yourself up but it’s too late.

The vines are wrapping itself around your body, like snakes that are about to poison you. Panic rises in your chest and your eyes widen when you lift your head to see the creatures running towards you, getting closer and closer.

“No!” Your own voice sounds so unfamiliar to you, so filled with fear and desperation.

You struggle against the vines, though they hold you down so strongly. You try kicking against it, you try fighting against it but nothing helps, nothing will help you, nothing will save you.

Suddenly, you feel something sharp in your skin, in your legs, in your calves, in your arms, everywhere. You scream in pain – in pain and in anger. Tears stream down your face, blood seeps from the ripped open skin, the metallic taste now lingering on your tongue and that will be the last thing you will taste, the last thing you will see is the blood red sky, the last thing you will feel is how you’re being ripped apart.

But even now, as you’re slipping into a cruel death, all you think about is him.

You��re awaiting the darkness, the void – though it’s not what greets you when your eyes close. Light greets you. Bright, disgusting light that makes you want to close your eyes again. Fuck. You forgot to close the curtains last night.

A groan falls from your lips and you pull the blanket up higher, hiding your face from the sun that shines directly into your room. You pay no mind to your racing heart or the fear that still lingers from the dream you just woke from – you ignore it, as you always do.

This one was unlike all the others that have been haunting you for weeks now. Instead of hands around your neck, and the cruel blue eyes staring into your soul as he tried to kill you, it’s been the creatures that wanted you dead this time – and somehow they caused you less fear than he did.

You sink deeper into your mattress, enjoying the comfort and warmth of your bed.

Nothing awaits you today, absolutely nothing.

With a sigh, you lift your blanket and sit up, rubbing your eyes before you squint them open. You pull your legs up to your chest and prop your chin up on your knees, looking out your window as you get lost in your thoughts.

You are taken back to your dreams when the sun gets brighter, reminding you of the lights that surged through the red sky when the creatures – the monsters ripped you open. Not shying away from digging their teeth and claws into your delicate skin. – And to think that you once thought that Tommy and Carol were monsters.. Now you know what real monsters look like, feel like..

They never got under your skin like the monsters in your dreams did, not even when they thought they did. They threw cruel words at you, made up rumors about you that circled around school but as entertaining as it was to some of the students of Hawkins High, you just didn’t care what they thought of you, what they whispered about you whenever you passed by the gossiping girls or the boys who would smirk whenever you would walk through the hallways.

Just like all the other new freshman girls, you were fresh meat, a little lamb in the midst of a lion's den, ready to be ripped apart – or at least, that’s what you were meant to be. The first time Kelli Robertson approached you in order to intimidate you and to make it known who she was, she walked away with a split open lip after she tugged at your pigtails and made fun of the way you dressed. She never approached you again after this and neither did her friends.

You were no violent person but it had always been easy for you to lose your temper around girls and boys who loved to think that they were better than anyone else, that their status in school was something deemed special and meaningful outside of it, that they could push around the ones weaker than them.

Maybe you weren’t better than them, you gave them back what they gave to others, but at least they deserved it. And with them, you had the power to fight back whenever they came at you.

But when it came to him, you didn’t have much power to fight back – only luck was on your side, that night. A battered house you were supposed to die in, saved you. It’s ironic, really.

It’s been a few weeks since the evil had been defeated and you had won – since your friends had won, but not without scars and bruises.

Eddie almost died.

Max almost died.

And you, you almost died too.

Maybe you should have.

You drag yourself out of bed, like every morning, ignoring the sharp pain in your side, the ache that still lingers in your neck – you wonder if it will stay there forever now.

You hate to look at yourself in the mirror, but you still do.

You wash your face and brush your teeth and you stare at your reflection, hating what you see. The bruises that have not healed yet, the ones on your face and on your neck, the scar that he left for you to always look at.

With a sigh, you turn away and leave the bathroom. You make yourself a cup of coffee and sit on your windowsill. You pull your knees up to your chest, closing your eyes for a moment, you enjoy the way the sun feels on your skin. You missed it, the warmth, the smell of spring in the air and giving yourself this moment of peace every morning.

You feel the beating of your heart, the kind that fills your body with fear – the fear that will always linger now.

You can’t stand it.

And you can’t stand that the only way to get rid of it is to be around the person who hates you the most.

The one that ripped your heart out more than once, with nothing but cruel words.

You should stay away, but you can’t.

And besides, your words are just as cruel.

Walking into Family Video, a small smile tugs at your lips when Steve’s frown greets you. He is leaning against the counter, a pencil in his hand as he works on the crossword in the newspaper. He instantly straightens up when he locks eyes with you, a sigh already falling from his lips.

He has been seeing you more often than usual in the past few weeks – every time you walk in here, he ignores the relief in his chest and the pain when he sees those fading bruises on your skin.

By the look on your face, he can tell that you are up to no good.

You’re wearing a sweet smile on your face – one that could never be directed at him. An iced coffee in your hand that you got from the shop across the street, he sees you walk in there, every afternoon.

“Hey Steve,” you smile as you walk up to the counter, placing the cup in front of him. “I got you a coffee.”

Steve raises his eyebrows at you, glancing down at the coffee, not quite believing you or the sickly sweet tone in your voice, you even called him by his name, something that never happens.

“What’d you put in there?”

You chuckle, shrugging at him. “Nothing, I figured you could use some coffee and some company, you look bored.”

The store is empty and he already stacked up all the new tapes. Yes, he is bored but he doesn’t believe you for a second. You’re here because you are bored.

You tap your manicured nails against the counter, tilting your head and looking at him oh so sweetly – your lashes flutter, your lips are curled into a soft smile, you’re wearing a pretty blouse underneath your denim jacket and heart shaped glasses on your head, you smell like cherries. If you weren’t you, he would be flirting away already but unfortunately you are you.

The girl he cannot stand, even now, after you risked your life for a person that means so much to him, after you almost bled out and died fighting someone who was ready to kill you.

He ignores the pang in his chest when he looks at the faint bruises around your neck, you almost got matching wounds now – only his were caused by bats, yours were caused by someone else’s hands. He redirects his eyes to your face instead, not bearing to look at the marks any longer.

He looks into your eyes for a moment, trying to figure you out the way he always does – though you will always remain a mystery to him.

Tempting, he thinks – the coffee, not you, definitely not you.

With a sigh, he reaches for the cup and just as he goes to wrap his hand around it, you beat him to it, snatching it back.

“Oops, I changed my mind.”

You wrap your lips around the straw, keeping your eyes on him as you drink the coffee that you definitely did not order for Steve.

He clenches his jaw, eyes flashing with annoyance as they lock with yours again.

Satisfaction fills your chest, you love teasing him.

“Robin isn’t here, so what the hell do you want, Blondie?”

At that, you clench your jaw.

You can’t stand the stupid nickname that he hasn’t stopped using since Sophomore year.

You wanted that blonde you saw on Dolly Parton in the magazines, only for a bright yellow to end up on your head. You begged your sister to let you stay at home, but she pointed to the door for you to face the consequences of getting hair dye without her permission.

And since then, you went back to your natural hair color, not touching a dye in your life again.

Steve won’t let you live it down, always bringing up the nickname he knows you hate so much.

Though you don’t know whether he gave you the name because of the yellow hair you once sported or because you love the band so much.

“Well, I wanna rent a movie,” you shrug as you play with the straw. “I figured you could recommend one to me. You know, since you work here and everything.”

He rolls his eyes, “just get The Breakfast Club and leave.”

You put your hand over your heart, feigning pain. “Are you trying to get rid of me, Lego head?”

He clenches his jaw harder than before, you can tell that he is trying his hardest not to roll his eyes.

“I watched that movie last week. I wanna watch something else now. Give me a few recommendations or I’ll speak to your manager,” you tease him.

He shakes his head, pinching the bridge of his nose as he walks around the counter, nodding his head at you to follow him.

“I wouldn’t put it past you.”

You follow him, sipping on your coffee as you look down at the way his jeans are hugging his ass.

“How about Teen Wolf?” He asks as he walks into the horror movie section, he reaches for the movie and turns back to you, gripping the shelf as he gives you a fake smile.

“Hmm,” you scrunch your nose up as you pretend to think. “No thanks, I got enough Teen Wolf in front of me.” You gesture to his hair and the chest hair that peeks from his unbuttoned shirt.

You try to not look at the scar around his neck, the vision of him being held down against the ground while the bats tried to bite chunks of flesh out of him still pains you and makes shivers run down your spine.

With a snort, he rolls his eyes and puts the tape back on the shelf.

“What do you want, horror, action, rom-com–”

“Do I look like I’d enjoy a shitty rom-com?”

“Right,” he mumbles, scratching the back of his neck as he looks you up and down. You actually do look like you’d enjoy a shitty rom-com. Besides the constant glare or the frown on your face, you actually look like a sweet and approachable girl – that’s where he was wrong. You are unapproachable, you always have been. You’re rough and you’re mean, you never bite your tongue and you don’t shy away from fights or arguments, that is something that caught him off guard the first time he talked to you. The pink skirt, the bow in your hair and the innocent look on your face was a disguise for the little devil that was hiding behind those pretty eyes.

Your looks still don’t match your personality. – Even now, after the horrifying things that you have been through only weeks back, you are still you. Still the same mean girl he always knew you to be.

There was a shift in your behavior after last summer, something had changed in your eyes, a sadness lingered in them, one that hasn’t been there before, he doesn’t know what happened, if you had gotten hurt or if you had lost something or someone, but even if, that clearly wasn’t enough for you to change either.

Nothing seems to change you.

You are just cold and unreachable in your emotions – for the most part.

“Alright then no rom-com,” he sighs.

He continues to offer you movies, ones that you keep saying no to. He can feel himself growing frustrated the longer you do this, knowing damn well that you aren’t here for a movie, especially not for tonight, you’re hanging out with Robin tonight.

Once you make it to the last aisle, Steve is officially fed up with you. He leans against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest while you innocently look at the movies in the thriller section. You are sipping on your drink, eyeing some tape that you just reached for. You put it back and sigh, pretending to be bored.

While Steve had been trying to be less harsh with you than he was weeks before, he can’t help but roll his eyes at you.

“Why are you here?” He grumbles. “We both know you don’t want to rent a movie.”

You turn your head, eying him up and down before you start making your way over to him.

“How would you know?”

“Because I know you,” he mumbles as he takes a step closer to you. “I know you’re here because you’re fucking bored.”

You smirk, tilting your head up as you look into his hazel eyes.

“Get a job and let me do mine,” he rolls his eyes and finally brushes past you, making his way back to the counter.

“I don’t need a job, I have enough money to do… uh.. well nothing for the rest of my life. Just like you, Harrington. Why don’t you take that hush money we were gifted with and get the hell out of here?” You ask, curiously as you follow him. “You could be relaxing, traveling through the country, staying in fancy hotels, taking out hot chicks.”

“How fun,” he snorts as he stops by the register. “You go do that, if that’s what a dream life looks to you. Or get a freaking boyfriend or something and stop getting on my goddamn nerves, Blondie.”

“Who would keep your life so entertaining if I got too busy with a boyfriend?” You ask. “You’d die of boredom.”

Steve picks up the pencil he dropped earlier, trying to ignore you as he continues working on his crossword but you don’t let him obviously. You place the drink you teased him with, in front of him and lift yourself up on the counter, making yourself comfortable next to him.

He rolls his eyes, looking up at you through his bangs to find you looking at him already, a smirk lingering on your lips. You’re close enough for him to smell the perfume on your skin, sweet and flowery, another misleading thing, you’re not sweet, not in any way.

“You really think you have that much of an impact in my life?” He asks. Like the bruises on your body don’t anger him, because he couldn’t help you when you were fighting for your own and someone else’s life. Like he didn’t hold your hand when your cold body was laying in the hospital bed. Like he didn’t pray for you to make it out alive.

You bite the insides of your cheeks, blinking as you continue to look into his eyes.

You nod. “I think you would miss me so much if I was gone.”

He glares into your eyes, taking deep breaths as he moves his tongue along his bottom lip.

How can you speak of such things when you almost lost your life? He wonders.

“Yeah, you would definitely miss me,” you smirk and reach for your drink, only to be stopped by him when he reaches for it first, smirking back at you as he brings it up to his lips, wrapping his lips around the straw – not caring that your lips have touched it first.

Your jaw drops a little, only a little, though enough for him to be amused by the shocked look on your face – that is rare.

He takes a sip of your coffee, humming. “Mhmm, Vanilla? How’d you know it was my favorite?”

You purse your lips, squinting your eyes at him.

“Don’t look at me like that. You’ll give me the wrong idea and make me think that you have a crush on me or something.”

What an idiot.

“You wish, Lego head.” You snort and jump off the counter, letting your face drop into your regular expression.

He chuckles, tilting his head at you. “Right, I forgot, you don’t have such a thing as feelings.”

You blink, cracking your knuckles as you meet his eyes again.

Yeah, you heard that before and it stung, really badly.

“Not when it comes to you.”

He crosses his arms over his chest, looking at you with a bored expression.

“I’m so wounded.”

Nothing you would say or do could ever hurt Steve Harrington.

Not even the cruelest words from you would hurt him.

Because you don’t have the power to hurt him.

You don’t have an impact in his life.

You wouldn’t leave a void in his life if you just disappeared – not like he would in yours if he were to disappear.. But he doesn’t need to know that.

He couldn’t care less about you, he surely wouldn’t care if you left this town like you should have a long time ago, he surely wouldn’t care if you had died that night. You would have been long forgotten by now, a faceless someone in his memories.

“Heidi or Summer or Kayla will surely patch those wounds,” you smirk as you walk towards the door. “Or are you still getting over Nancy… you know after she rejected you… again?”

He nods at you with a glare, clenching his jaw at the reminder.

You chuckle and turn around, you open the door and step out.

“Look both ways when you cross the street, Blondie!” He calls out to you. “You don’t wanna end up in the hospital again!”

You flip him off, rolling your eyes at his chuckle that you hear before the door closes behind you.

The afternoon sun is shining down on you, leaving a warm feeling on your skin, a smile pulls at your lips as you glance at the growing flowers next to trees.

The sky is blue, no cloud in sight to hide the sun, it’s quiet, peaceful – almost too peaceful.

This is how it should be, right?

The war that was fought in secret is over.

But, there is still one upon you.

You and the man you just walked away from.

Will you make it out alive this time?

Or will you be left more broken than before?

I'm only doing taglists for friends & mutuals so please don't ask to be tagged! It's too stressful for me to keep track of that.

You can follow my side blog @andvyswritingss and turn on post notifications if you want updates for this series! 🤍

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington angst #steve harrington series #steve harrington enemies to lovers #stranger things angst

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ladyloveandjustice · 1 year ago

Text

I saw a post in the My Adventures with Superman tag claiming that Lois "finally" has a character. I really like the show and it's version of Lois too, but I want to make this clear: Lois Lane has been around for over 80 years and she's always been a distinct, dynamic character with a lot going for her, every bit as admirable as Superman. This isn't a new thing!

Like any character Lois has had some bad adaptations, but she's been a great character from the beginning, and I wanted to show off some panels from comics over the years so anyone new to Superman lore can see why she's a beloved character and the MAWS portrayal is building on that, not starting from scratch.

Lois in the golden age comics (1939 through the 1940's) was shown to be a career-driven woman who didn't take shit from anyone. This was an era where a lot of women were entering the workforce because men were serving in WWII and there was excitement and change in the air, and Lois was meant to be a reflection of that. She fought against the sexism of her boss sticking her with the advice and gossip columns because she was a woman, and she was go-getting reporter out to get a real story. From the beginning she was fearless (sometimes reckless), driven, and had no patience for Clark Kent's (feigned) cowardice (and was always full of sick burns). She never let anyone push her around.

And she's been pretty consistently like this her entire run as a character. Of course, there were some bad writers, and there was a time in the 50s when all female characters had to be marriage obsessed (Lois wasn't the only one hit with this, Wonder Woman was too), but she reverted back to her firebrand self in the 60's and 70's, and when the 80's came along, characters started getting more filled in backstories, including her- this was where we started seeing stuff about her home life, her childhood moving around as a military brat, and her troubled relationship with her father and sister. She had an interior life, inner conflict- and she still kicked ass and always got the last word in. As someone invested in journalism, she is THE coolest fictional journalist to me.

This was also when comics started focusing on Clark being who Superman WAS rather than a pure act, and we got to see their relationship really grow and Lois fall for Clark, not Superman. So here, have some panels of Lois being great and see the scope of her own personality.

Lois also has lots fun little quirks and hobbies comics readers know about- she takes her coffee a certain way, she doesn't cook much because she's so on the go (so Clark is the one who cooks in the fam), she likes to sit on Clark's desk when they're talking (this happens in other Superman media too), she REALLY likes monster trucks and Clark REALLY doesn't but will support her anyway:

Also, she's always seen through to who Clark really is:

Anyway. Have more of my favorite Lois panels because I have a lot:

also this one because I'm gay:

#lois lane #superman #my adventures with superman #dc comics #clark kent

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love-bitesx · 1 year ago

Note

I loveeeedd the last story Tysm ❤️❤️❤️ Keep up the amazing work 🌈

I have another request

Hobie x fem spider reader

Reader has a weird stalker ex-bf, and the reader tries to keep it a secret from Hobie but he finds out and deals with the ex.

: ̗̀➛ STALKER. hobie brown x fem!reader

any criminal minds fans out there … i hope u see the parallels of my baby spencer also i'm so sorry, i didn't see until after i wrote this entire thing that you said 'fem spider reader' so it's a fem normal reader, so sorry! i hope it's still okay, tho!! thank u sm for ur support angel !! summary: hobie & y/n have been doing long distance for months, but she never told him exactly why. words: 2.8k (the words just kept coming, sorry its so long lmao) warnings: fem!reader, pronouns not really used but "my girl", "lady", etc. are, read at your own risk! weird stalker bf, creepy fella, hobie n y/n are long distance, very very soft hobie

“when can i call you next, darlin’?” hobie’s voice was laced with longing, bass distorted by static at the other end of the phone.

“if you’re quick, we can call tomorrow after 5,” you smiled, and if you were in an 80’s romcom, you’d be twisting the phone cord between your fingers.

“5pm it is, don’t be late,” you can hear his smirk, and a bolt of guilt strikes your chest.

“look, i need to ask something, and i think i already know the answer,” hobie speaks, and you bite your lip in anticipation, “the band and i are playing at a new venue tomorrow, it’s the biggest we’ve played, we’re all dead excited, and…”

a sigh.

“well, it won’t feel the same without you there, pretty.”

if the first bolt wasn’t enough, then the second one lived up to it, striking you into the dead center of your heart. it had been well over 6 months since you met hobie. well, “met”. you’d accidentally called the wrong number one day, meaning to contact a friend of a friend, but typing the last number wrong. picking up at the other end was a deep, almost mesmerising voice, telling you; “no bother, darlin’. it happens, just make sure not to lose this number, wanna hear more from ya.”

“hobie, you know i can’t,” your voice is brimming with remorse and you look to the ground.

“i know, shit with your parents, i get it," he tried hard to hide the disappointment, but his heart twanged with neglect and it creeped through into his words.

parents. strict, all-demanding 'parents'. that's what you told hobie when you first started dating, that the reason you aren't able to see him was because your mother was overbearing and extremely protective – it was a lie. a lie that was eating you up from the inside out. the truth was slightly more grim, however.

years ago, you got involved with a guy at work. a couple brief conversations turned into dates, and dates turned into anniversaries, anniversaries turned into toxic, violent arguments and after a long time of dating, you broke up with him. to say he took it badly, was a criminal understatement. threatening phone calls, showing up at your work, sending you gifts and menacing letters – his signature move was scaring off, and even once harming, any man or potential love interest that you interacted with. it was exhausting, and terrifying.

and hobie was different. he was sweet and kind, but rough around the edges, and his voice dripped in passion no matter the topic of conversation. his promises were never empty, and most importantly – he loved you. and you loved him. the last thing you wanted, was your ex to pop up and scare him off, so you kept it from him. limiting your relationship to phone calls at arranged times incase your ex was keeping tabs.

“i’m sorry, hobie,” is all you could muster, not even scratching the tip of the catastrophic iceberg that wedged the back of your throat.

“it’s okay, darlin’, don’t worry that pretty little head over it,” and just like every phone call, you melted into his words, “i love you, yeah? i’ll call you tomorrow at 5.”

“i’ll be waiting,” you smiled, cheeks flushed at his gentle affirmations, “i love you.”

with a ruckus of movement, and what sounded like a kiss, the call ended, and you stared at the screen silently for a moment. not much longer could you avoid it, and the malten bubble of dread spilled into your gut.

sending him a quick text:

‘good luck tomorrow, handsome. what’s the venue called again? you’ll do amazing x’

you turned off your phone, discarding it on the bed as you climbed into the hole of guilt you’d dug yourself.

“oi, you ready, blud?” hobie’s band mate yelled above the bustle and cheers from the crowd before them. large, bejewelled hands poised onto his guitar strings, he smirked.

“always.”

with a nod to the roadie, the lights went up, illuminating the stage and instruments, hobie's glowing with a harsh red tint. immediately, his sepia eyes digested the crowd. seeing the flushed, excitable faces staring back at him sent a shot of confidence to his bones, and they moved, strumming the guitar with such vigor that the stage floor shook beneath his feet. cheers erupted, and yet felt oddly empty. it was missing something, and he knew what it was immediately.

he'd truly give his all to have you there, front stage in his eyeline, screaming his songs like gospel. not that he'd ever seen you properly, only seeing teasing selfies you'd sent him over the months you'd been together. he didn't care, inherently, he'd fallen head over heels for your personality; a pretty face was only just a bonus.

however, he did yearn for your touch. to feel his hands in your hair, to kiss your cheek, your nose, your neck. he longed to have you with him, even just doing stupid little tasks, having you by his side through the domestic side of life.

his gall spurred him on, his passion surging through his fingertips, spilling out into the sound waves. the audience were lapping it up, screams and chants only barely audible under the booming power of their set. song, after song, after song his talented blood seeped out onto the strings, and his feet were almost numb from the vibration of the bass.

the final song arrived, and his chest was burning, vision blurry, heart pounding against his chest – and he loved it. it was their biggest crowd, their most excitable achievement so far, and his blood pumped with adrenaline as he finished off the set, falling to his knees as he strum his guitar with one final chord. lights falling, his chest was heaving and his eyes scanned the audience one final time – you weren’t there. he had to accept that.

“that was fuckin’ sick, blud!” his bassist yelled as they exited the stage, palm slapping hobie’s shoulder blade and elicited a wide, ecstatic grin.

“you smashed it, mate,” hobie shouted back over the booming stereo that took their place.

“nah, man, you stole the show,” his bassist shook his head, patting him again in appreciation, “good that your lady’s here to see it, too, she must be proud.”

“i wish, mate,” he sighed.

“did you not see her?” his ears perked up, and at his confused expression, his bandmate continued, “over at the back, by the bar, i didn’t know what she looked like, but she was asking after you. ‘er story adds up.”

"shit," he mutters, feet solid on the ground. his heart pounds, skeptical of your presence, but chest bursting with hope that it just might be you, "look, bro, i need to–"

"go! go, man, go see her," his bandmate pushes him in the direction of the bar, and he almost stumbles over his own feet to push the stage door open, met with the chaos of the crowded bar.

dark eyes scanning the aimless faces, he searched for anyone who could look like you; his stature brought him above everyone else, only by a little, but gave him an advantage to seek you out.

"sorry, i need to get past," he repeated, over and over to unassuming bodies, setting through the chaos to find his peace. pushing out at the back, a wave of light met him, shining through empty pint glasses and illuminating the bar.

there you were.

standing quietly, head nodding along to the blasting instrumentals, drink in hand; you were heart-stopping. and he was pretty sure his did. even if he’d never seen you face-to-face, he’d memorised the soft plump of your lips, alluring light in your eyes, even the way your hair fell against your skin from the photos he'd seen. there was no doubt it was you, and my god, you were beautiful. he couldn’t even stop his legs if he tried, as they carried him over to you.

"y/n?" his voice barely travelled through the sound waves, but it hit your ear like a familiar embrace.

turning to him, eyes wide and bright in the twinkling of the bar lights. you drunk him in, warm eyes swallowing every part of him. you'd seen pictures, again, but it could never compare to him. dark brown skin, soft to its complexion, hugged his bones in every perfect way; folding at the creases of his handsome face. he was tall, very tall, and the detail of the curves and indents of his muscles, altered by the shadows of the dim bar light, made your head fuzzy. god, he was beautiful – nothing that a digital screen could ever portray with justice.

"hobie," your voice was crisper than he was used to, and he would bottle it if he could, "hey, handsome, you got a–"

"come 'ere," he interrupted, essentially scooping you into his tense embrace, melting into your scent, the feel of you in his arms. his heart was pounding against his chest. you wrapped yourself around him, running your hands along his leather jacket, ghosting the skin below it.

"you interrupted my introduction," you pouted against his shoulder, "had a whole little joke planned and everything, you know."

"go on, hit me, love," he pulled back a tiny bit, his arms still glued around your waist, looking down through his lashes. you faltered under his intense gaze, giddy smile bursting onto your face and you buried your head in his chest.

"nuh uh, not anymore," you shook your head against him, "you ruined it."

his hand came up to touch your face whilst you spoke, following the edge of your hairline and tucking your hair around your shoulder. he was in awe, having you here, having you with him. tightening his embrace, he didn't want to let you go – ever.

"mhmm," his voice vibrated his chest, and you pulled away, "i'm sure it was hilarious, love."

"it really was," you chuckled, giddy in his presence.

the air grew thicker, your laughter dying out and left with just his strong gaze, his dark brown eyes following yours. you could barely comprehend him being here, in front of you, around you, and he was so much more than you had imagined. feeling his calloused hand caress your cheek, you leaned into his touch, inviting him into your world. cupping your face, hobie bought himself to you, leaning down until his pierced lips were ghosting your own. months he'd dreamed of this, imagined how it would feel to kiss his girl, to taste your lips and feel your love. he could feel your breath, and you were about to give in, until you pulled away.

"wait, i–" you swallowed thickly, pulling your touch from him.

"what's up, darlin'?" his eyes scanned your face for any sign of reason, "did i do somethin'?"

"no! no, you," you sighed, "you're perfect, it's not you."

he'd be lying through his teeth if he denied the pit of anxiety building deep in his stomach, bubbling up his throat.

"what is it?"

"i–" you stuttered again, and fought to get your words out of your brain and into the thick air of the bar, "i haven't been telling you the truth."

silence. just for a second. hobie's brain working over time.

"look, if you've got another fella, or somethin', just get it over with–"

"no! no, hobie, i'm yours, i promise," your words settled him for a second.

"my parents don't care about us, they aren't strict, in fact, they were happy when i told them about you," you begun, opening the dam.

"they know about me?" his voice was smaller than you were used to, and if your brain had a spare synapse to process it, you'd probably have melted.

"yes, and i'm sorry i haven't told you," you avoided his eyes, "it's my ex."

"oh, fuckin' 'ell," he sighed, dropping his arms to his side, and he's about to speak, until you interrupt.

"we broke up years ago, but he's never left me alone," you ring your wrists with your hands nervously, and hobie notices – you looked terrified, "i've tried everything; i've tried the police, i've moved countless times, i've changed jobs, made new friends, met new people – he won't leave me be."

tears welled up now, and his heart reached for you, but his arms stayed stuck by his side.

"every guy that i meet, he's, i don't know, calling them telling them i'm someone i'm not, or following them home and slashing tires, or roughing them up outside pubs," paranoia enveloped you, and your eyes darting around the crowd, "i was so scared, because you're the best i've ever had, and probably will ever have, and i don't want him to scare you off."

"y/n–"

"and i understand if this has done exactly what i'm scared of, because i get that keeping it from you was awful, but i was only trying to protect you and–"

his lips cut you off, warm against your own, capturing your words and pushing them back down your throat. hands on your cheeks, body flush against your own, you melted into him completely. it felt like heaven, like months of tension and longing unravelling like ribbon into the wind. it was safe, gentle, like a promise – a promise that it didn't scare him, and that he was yours.

"is he here?" his voice was low, lips hovering yours.

"i-i don't know," you were flustered, your brain trying to make sense of it all, but his hand on the small of your back stopped any cognitive thoughts, "i haven't seen him."

watching him, hobie's dark eyes floated around the crowd, before falling back onto you. smirk on his lips, he placed a quick peck onto your cheek.

"hmm, i hope he enjoyed the show," he chuckled lowly, and you couldn't help but mimic it, relief flooding off your shoulders, "how about we go somewhere a bit safer?"

"like where?" you questioned, intrigued by the coaxing tone of his voice.

"well, i only live around the corner," he shrugged, before offering his hand. blushing, you slipped your hand into his, the soft skin of his fingers pulling you towards him, until he threw his arm around your shoulder.

"nothing could scare me off, you know," he whispered, placing a kiss to your hair, "i'm 'ard as nails."

"oh yeah?" you giggled.

"mhmm."

clothed eyes glued to the suspicious figure, hobie stood on a rooftop, footsteps silent as he follows the man below. tailing him through the cobbled back lanes of london, hobie's back tingled with apprehension – he'd been following him for at least a mile, waiting for a perfect opportunity.

and he'd finally found it.

pausing his heavy stroll, the man dug into his pockets and pulled out a slightly crushed pack of cigarettes, fumbling further for a lighter. a small orange glow lit up the air around him as he puffed away, smoke fluttering to meet hobie's nose.

silently, hobie swung to a platform below, pulling his guitar tighter against his back and dropped to the hard ground. the sound of his leather boots colliding with the cobble made the man turn in his direction, eyes wide at the sight.

"spiderman?" the man breathed between puffs, voice hoarse, "can i help you?"

"you know what, i think you can," hobie strutted, hands stuffed into his leather jacket, lanky stance towering him, "are you y/n's ex fella?"

"who's asking?" he questioned stupidly, and hobie let out a laugh.

"bruv, who's– are you stupid or somethin'?" hobie punched him lightly in the shoulder, "do you not see the whole get up?"

"the fuck have you got to do with y/n?" he spat, defensive stance taking over his body.

"none of your business," hobie knew that would sting, "but you're gonna leave her alone, fella."

"you don't know what you're talking about."

"i'm not askin', mate," hobie stepped closer, "and i'm not givin' you a choice."

before he could even utter a response, hobie had swung his spike-studded arm in his direction, knuckles colliding against the pathetic man's jaw, knocking him to the ground below.

"tha's my girl you're messin' with now."

#hobie brown #hobie brown fanfiction #hobie brown imagine #hobie brown x you #hobie brown x reader #spiderpunk #spider punk x you #spider punk x reader #spider punk #hobie #hobie my beloved #atsv hobie #hobie spiderverse #hobie x reader #across the spiderverse #hobie x you #across the spider verse spoilers

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c0nfessions-of-a-writing-freak · 7 months ago

Text

Do It For Me

Pairing: Marcus Lopez Arguello x Fem!Reader

Word count: 1.1k

Summary: After pissing off Brandy and finally getting what was coming for you. Looking for a quick way out, your eyes luckily land on the new kid. Thinking on your feet, you swoop I'm in for a little kiss to try and ward off the wolves that were on your trail.

Bingo: @eclipsingbingo with the square 'Fake Dating'

*Gif does not belong to me

Your slightly heeled boots clicked through the hallway quickly, walking at a steady pace so as to not let on to how much worry was flooding through your body. You hadn't meant to piss off Brandy, scratch that, you hadn't meant to piss off Brandy enough that she'd get her whole cheerleading squad to go after you.

That's why you were hurridly walking down the school corridor, not even bothering to look over your shoulder as you could hear their pig-squeal-laughs as they followed. As you went you could see heads start to turn when they heard the parade of cheerleaders, their eyes only setting on you after they realised what was happening. The more heads that turned, the more you began to realise just how doomed you might be.

It was only when your eyes landed on some guy you had never seen before. He stood tall as he opened his locker, shoving something into it that vaguely looked like some teddy bear that had poorly been impaled. Your eyes quickly scanned over him, trying to put together the puzzle pieces as to who he might be.

You have never seen him before in one of your classes, which could just mean he was in the year above but you didn't think so. He seemed too fresh, unaware of what he was getting himself into to be familiar with this place.

That was when you remembered what Billy had been telling you. Some new kid was being recruited into this school. Some child killer. The orphanage killer, or something like that.

You had no idea what this killer was meant to look like. Billy had told you stories but even then he hadn't said anything about the boy's features. How could he? He had never seen him before last night or whenever it was that the green-haired boy slunk off with his skateboard and too much excitement flickering through his bones.

You couldn't help but count this as a win as you realised this was the boy who set that orphanage on fire. Never had you thought you would say those words in your head.

Changing the course of your walk, you head straight for the new kid, placing a heavy hand on the locker next to his head and staring up with a large smile. Eyes were instantly on the two of you. If someone hadn't been staring at one of the two of you before, they definitely were now.

"Look who finally decided to show up after my months of begging." You exclaim, saying the first words that come to mind to make it seem like the two of you had known each other previous to joining the school. His head snapped towards you when the slam of your hand had first sounded, face full of shock which now morphed to confusion at your words. "You could've told me you were coming."

"Do I know you?" The boy said, voice not as loud as yours. It seemed he was trying to keep his words on the down low so as to not embarrass you in case you had made a mistake. How sweet.

"Don't be silly," You laughed, your voice calming but still loud enough for any onlookers to easily hear. Lowly though, your teeth bared in a smile to try and not draw too much attention to your next words though, you say, "Just play along."

He blinked almost owlishly at you in return as if your intentions still weren't setting in. You rolled your eyes, your irises landing on the teddy bear that had in fact been stabbed in his locker, a not stuck to it. You sniffed at that. Seems like you were right.

"Oi, cunt," One of the girls--one that you had never bothered to learn the name of--yelled from not too far away, her and her pack catching up to you.

That was the only kickstart you needed to reach up and grab onto the boy's face, pulling him down so he reached your height and smashing your faces together. Your lips moved quickly, almost in sync as he finally realised what was happening.

Reaching a hand up to place on your hip, the other awkwardly hanging in the air before cupping your cheek, he angled your face up slightly so it would be easier for him to kiss you back.

You could hear the sudden stop of shoes as the group after you stopped a few feet away, watching with wide eyes as you kissed the boy's home killer. Someone whistled, probably some lowlife or one of your friends who were also lowlifes. You didn't care though, not when you heard the muttering or the laughing, not when a horde of footsteps kept walking, acting as if nothing had happened.

It was only when the bell rang did you pulled back, taking a big breath of air in as you looked up at the boy through hooded eyes. Hopefully, you didn't share any classes with him or this was going to be an awkward few hours.

"I'm Marcus," The boy says, blinking at you with a smile on his face as if he couldn't believe what just happened.

You returned his smile, grinning up at him sharply. "Hi Marcus, you just saved my arse." Slowly, you push yourself off the locker you had been leaning against, ready to go about your day as if nothing had happened. Marcus didn't seem to like the sound of that.

"What, no name?" He teased, shutting his locker and trailing after you, not caring if the storage unit was actually locked. "I did just save your arse, according to you."

"Don't you think it's a bit too early for me to give you my name?" You joked, walking down the hall without stopping or waiting for him to catch up.

"Well, you did kiss me," Marcus pointed out, grinning cheekily as he fell into step next to you. "I think that you should count for something."

"I don't kiss and tell," You said simply, leaving him to wonder for a little bit longer.

"Well, if you're not going to tell me your name," He started, pulling out a folded piece of paper from his blazer pocket. Unfolding it, he turned it around and showed it off to you. "Could you at least tell me where my next class is?"

You take one look at the piece of paper and say, "Fuck."

#deadly class #marcus lopez arguello x reader #marcus lopez x you #marcus lopez imagine #marcus lopez x reader #marcus lopez arguello #dealy class Marcus #reader insert #x reader #fanfiction #fanfic #mattheo riddle x reader #eclipsing bingo #eclipsingbingo #matteo riddle #mattheo riddle

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lushrue · 5 months ago

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hockeyteam!141 x figureskater!reader pt 2!

part 2 of this au finally! i'm so glad people like it! comment if you wanna be added to the taglist, already planning pt 3 so there will be more where this came from 💗

your name was announced through the loudspeaker as you skated onto the ice, all covered in sequins and polyester. you’d always thought it was a little bit silly, the conventions around figure skating costumes. that fit that Margot Robbie threw in I, Tonya about the ridiculousness of it? yeah, you’d had a moment like that once or twice. the rough fabric scratched your arms, the glint of the sequins drew focus away from your expressions. but you still felt elegant as you set your mark at center ice, hitting your starting pose in the silence before the music began.

breathe in, breathe out. focus. momentum is everything, remember your character, focus going into your jumps.

in the moment before your routine started, you flicked your eyes up and scanned the crowd. it was something that you’d done ever since your first routine that you took to competition. usually, you were looking for your parents, their smiling faces and the flash of your mom’s digital camera. now, though, it became more curiosity, finding a spot to let your eyes settle when you weren’t looking at the judges’ table. it was then that you saw them. four big, brutish hockey players sat shoulder to shoulder in the stands. the one with the mohawk (soap, you remembered) lifted his hand to wave at you, only for the man beside him (kyle, you guessed from this distance) to swat it down.

the shock must have played out on your face, because you saw price smirk as your music began playing. you let the sound seep into your bones and just like that, it all melted away and you skated.

…

the four of them watched pretty intently for the first few seconds of your routine. price was focused on the placement of your body, how you kept your center of gravity in the middle at all times. he had to admire how precise you were in your movements, like you knew the physics behind all of it. for all he knew, you did. he could tell you were skilled and he liked that about you. talent recognizes talent, or however the saying goes.

kyle was simply admiring your choice of music. Moonlight Sonata, though basic, was like black coffee, he thought. a classic choice that never really got old, but so many things could be added to it to make it new and exciting. and watching you skate to it, he felt like he’d never heard it before. he watched your face more than anything else. you were so expressive, a story playing out in your eyes, and he soaked it all up. it was like reading a novel, and this one was a page-turner.

ghost was watching the lines of your body. it was like you were painting the air as you moved, each flick of the wrist and lift of the leg deliberate and purposeful. it all served to make a pretty picture. every now and again, he’d look at the thin lines your skates left on the ice, the swirls and curves detailing everywhere you’d been. much prettier than the harsh notches he left behind when he stepped out of the rink, he thought. just like you, they were delicate.

soap was far less interested in the artistry or skill of it and more focused on you. the way your hair moved as you spun on the ice, the way your costume clung to your skin. he couldn’t even act as if he wasn’t watching disrespectfully, thinking of what your body might look like under the spandex and sparkles. you lifted your leg and began spinning, and soap thought he might keel over right then and there. ghost nudged him as he adjusted himself on the bench, a silent gesture that told him to behave.

johnny gestured to price behind kyle’s back, getting his attention. “didn’t i tell ya, cap? a right beaut, that one,” he said, earning himself a flick to the head from ghost. price chuckled, turning his attention back to where you were winding up for a jump. two turns in the air and you landed perfectly. he knew you would, you talented thing. “yeah. a beaut,” price responded, a small smile curving his lips.

...

you skated remarkably, in your opinion. it was a relatively simple routine, but with every completed skate, regardless of skill level, came a sense of accomplishment. as you hit your ending pose, you made eye contact with your hockey players in the stands again. ghost’s face was unreadable from this distance, but you caught the pleased expressions of the other three as they clapped for you. soap had a glint in his eyes that spelled mischief and made something in your stomach tighten. kyle was looking at you like the artist you perceived yourself to be, almost how you imagined someone would look at their favorite painting. and price’s face had pride written all over it. you caught an almost imperceptible nod from him, as if to say well done.

you bowed to both sides of the rink and skated off the ice, a performer’s smile on your lips. it wasn’t entirely fake, not like it had been at some competitions. this time, it was born of the idea that four of the men you’d been watching, nay, pining after for a month were finally turning their attentions to you. for the first time in a while, you wondered what someone besides the judges thought of your routine. the worst part was, you needed them to like it. you felt the intense need to please them, keep them coming back for more.

the four of them found you in line for the concessions, grabbing a hot chocolate to soothe your cold bones in between programs. your free skate was coming up next and you knew you’d need a little pick-me-up before then. as you thanked the high schooler who’d poured your drink, you turned to walk away and almost collided with a wall of solid muscle. price, you’d realize as you looked up. “told ya we wanted to see ya, bonnie!” soap’s voice chirped from behind the broad shoulders of the team captain.

you glanced around him, noticing kyle and ghost stood off to the side. kyle was all polite smiles and ghost looked as though he was aware of how much space he was taking up, supremely uncomfortable as people brushed past him. soap was stood off to the other side of price, arms crossed over his chest. then your eyes turned up to the captain himself, feeling a sense of pride radiating off of him. you weren’t sure why; this was a man who barely knew you. but it made your stomach flutter all the same. “good performance you put on out there, love,” he said, the rumble of his baritone voice more compelling when it was directed at you. you’d seen the boys scramble to follow his orders before during a game, but you’d thought it was just his rank on the team. no, you realized, it was definitely the voice.

“thank you,” you replied sheepishly, clutching the warm styrofoam cup in your icy fingers. “i’m glad you all liked it.” kyle spoke up, stepping a bit closer to where you stood. “liked it? i loved it! you’ll have to tell me more about how you choreographed it, the musicality was insane!” “easy, garrick,” ghost’s voice rumbled from where he stood, a bit muffled by the black surgical mask. “don’t wan’ to scare off our pretty bird.” oh, you could get used to that. you spoke up, your eyes flicking between the four of them. “actually, i still have another program to skate.” you hesitated, almost worried you were being too forward. but then you continued. why not live a little, take some risks? “if you all wanted to stay, that is.”

you didn’t have to tell them twice.

taglist: @cadotoast

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megalony · 6 months ago

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A Family Gathering

As promised, here is a new Eddie Diaz imagine, I'd love to do a follow up to this if anyone is interested.

Please let me know what you think.

Taglist: @justagirlthatlovedtoread @musicistheway @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @luula @missdreamofendless @bradleybeachbabe @woderfulkawaii @amberpanda99 @daggersquadphantom @marvel-and-chicago-fan @angryknightstatesmantrash @minjix @lyjen @kmc1989 @itsmytimetoodream @noonenuts @hiireadstuff @ashie-babie @classyunknownlover @jayyeahthatsme @sp1ritssz @dumb-fawkin-bitch @oliverstarksbae @gimatida @heart-35 @supernaturalstilinski @stefansalvatoresgf @kyky9103 @wutheringhearts2275 @gay4hotmilfs @itshamleth @chaoticnosleepinfluencer @gs29 @wh0reforsmutstuff @mel-vaz @natashamea18 @chrisevansdaughter @alexandra8484 @deena-beena-weena @targaryenluvs @shelbygeek @kpoplover-19 @marvelmenarebeautiful @gillybear17

@zoeybennett @mrspeacem1nusone @zephyrmonkey @estella-novella @eleventhdoctorsangel @kniselle @senjoritanana

@shauna-carsley @dottierose @cfdhouse51 @darkfemme1 @rainechase45 @ml572 @jessie-lynn28 @lolalolsstuff @jupiter1700 @ashdoctor @an-aliens-ghost

Eddie Diaz Masterlist

Part 2

Prequel

Summary: (Y/n) and Eddie are close to their due date with their twins. But when they go to a family meal with her siblings and parents, it doesn't go as planned and family secrets are revealed.

(Reader is Buck and Maddie's sister)

Enjoy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Mum…"

The knocking at the door brought (Y/n) out of her trance and she leaned forward, lowering her head down towards the sink that she was leaning heavily against. Her lower back arched out, trying to relieve the pain in her back that felt like it was snapping in three different places, all at once.

Tears welled up in the corners of her eyes and she couldn't stop them from falling down her face as her nails started to scratch against the porcelean sink.

A twinge rolled through her back and her knees bent forward into the sink that felt like (Y/n) was about to rip it off the wall.

It took more effort than (Y/n) would of liked for her to open her eyes and it caused more tears to trickle down her face which she hastily brushed aside. She didn't want Chris to notice she had been crying, it would only panic him and that wasn't fair.

She tried to straighten up but the movement caused her spine to click oddly and send a loud crack through the air which had her quivering on the spot.

One hand moved to her lower back and the other pushed up off the sink that had been keeping her upright for a while now.

(Y/n) danced her eyes around the bathroom for the rest of the clothes she had brought in with her.

"Mum," Chris knocked again, followed by a giggle that almost lifted (Y/n)'s heart. She knew he was getting impatient both to use the bathroom and for her to hurry up because Buck was coming over.

He was picking (Y/n) and Eddie up and taking them round to Maddie and Chimney's apartment. Chris knew this, he knew his uncle wasn't going to see him for long and he knew Carla would be round anytime now so she could babysit him for the evening. But Chris was still excited to see his uncle even for a few minutes and he had a few games picked out for him and Carla to play tonight.

"I'm coming, just- just one minute."

Her legs quivered when she slowly eased down to sit on the toilet so she could get dressed without falling over. She kicked the lounge set she had stole from Eddie this morning to one side. The shorts had been a little uncomfy because they didn't stretch properly over her stomach anymore, but there was very little that still fit (Y/n) these days.

She reached out for her maternity leggings and when she stood up, she grumbled to herself and raked them upwards until they were over her underwear.

They didn't feel as comfy as they used to. Not now her stomach yet again seemed to stretch and grow in the last week. There was less than two weeks left until (Y/n)'s due date and she was becoming restless. Her stomach was bigger than ever, the twins were twisting and kicking and moving all the time and making it so hard for (Y/n) to try and sleep or sit down without any discomfort.

And now her back ache seemed to triple in the last two weeks and she didn't know what to do with herself.

She dragged the leggings as high around her bump as she could before she reached out for her dress. Another maternity dress that (Y/n) wasn't fond of wearing. It had been alright in the beginning, but now most of her dresses looked strange and just made her look an odd, rounded shape. (Y/n) had been living in Eddie's clothes these last two months but even his clothes were starting to become tight.

Tears welled up in her eyes again when she dragged the dress down over her bump.

This wouldn't do.

(Y/n) wasn't going to a family meal looking like this. She looked like a strawberry. An oddly shaped, deformed strawberry, thin on the top and wide around the middle.

Her back strained as she grumbled and fought to get the dress off again. She looped it over her arm and grabbed the loungewear set she had worn all afternoon.

When she finally opened the bathroom door, Chris grinned cheesily and flashed his teeth up at her. He wormed his arms around her and gave her a hug, nuzzling his face into her bump before they switched places and he headed into the bathroom.

Her hand pressed against the wall, using it as leverage to get herself further down the hall towards the bedroom. She had only just got up and already she wanted to sit back down again. She just wanted to sit down and try and get some sleep which had been evading her for the last week or so. (Y/n) had never had to take so may naps during the day as she did now to catch up on all the sleep she lost when she couldn't get comfy at night.

Something soft formed on her lips when she headed into the bedroom and looked over at Eddie.

He was stood in front of the mirror, buckling up his belt and tucking his shirt into his high-waisted jeans that fit snugly over his waist.

(Y/n) liked the shirt he was wearing. He had a light beige button up shirt on that looked a size too small for him. It stuck to his shoulders like glue, tensed and bunched up around the elbows whenever he flexed his arms and his chest was straining against the buttons that looked like they were about to pop. But he looked good.

His head turned in her direction and he quirked a brow as he looked her up and down. Stood there near the bed in her leggings and her bra and most of her stomach exposed for his flooded eyes to drink in and observe.

"Are you going like that?" He danced his eyes up and down her frame while he turned away from the mirror to face her instead.

"The dress didn't look right, think I'll have to raid you instead."

She tossed them in the hamper and looked in the wardrobe for a shirt that would look half decent on her and not make her look a fool or like a football. Her eyes locked on a dark navy blue button up and she swiped it from the wardrobe, smothering a groan as she clicked her spine into place, again, and dragged the shirt over her head.

"Oh no." Her head tilted to one side as she tried her best to wriggle into the shirt.

A quiet grumble left her lips and she felt like crying again when she tried to stretch the shirt over her large bump. When she pulled the shirt down, she gasped as the top few buttons popped undone. These kind of shirts used to hang off (Y/n)'s frame and stretch down to her thighs. Not anymore. Eddie's clothes always used to be loose because her husband was taller and broader than her. But now his clothes didn't stretch over her bump anymore.

She tried again to pull it down a bit more but the buttons kept popping open.

Her lower lip sucked between her teeth to stop herself from crying as she undid the buttons at the bottom of the shirt and stretched it down before doing up the buttons near her chest. It would be better to let her stomach be on show rather than her cleavage, and she had her leggings pulled up as high as she could get them.

She fiddled and pulled the shirt to try and cover her cleavage, but she paused and held her breath when a pair of arms circled around her waist.

"Looking good." Eddie murmured, punctuating his words with a kiss against her shoulder and travelling his lips up to the side of her neck.

He slid his hands beneath her shirt and danced his fingers across her stomach and beneath her leggings that were pulled up near her belly button. His words made (Y/n) smile but she didn't quite believe him. She didn't feel like she looked good when her leggings were getting tight, her dresses didn't look right on her anymore and even Eddie's clothes were starting to become too small for her.

"Hm, I don't think so."

"Why not?"

The genuine disappointment in Eddie's voice had (Y/n) shivering and she leaned her head back on his shoulder, pressing her forehead against his neck. She felt him lean his cheek on top of her head while his elbows pressed into her waist so his arms could squeeze her lovingly into his chest.

"Look at me, I can't even wear your clothes anymore." Her hands travelled down to hold Eddie's wrists and she lifted her head from his shoulder when Eddie leaned forward into her.

He nudged the collar of her shirt out his way, moving his pointed chin across her shoulder so he could pepper kisses across the front of her neck, feeling each shallow breath she took.

"I am looking, and I love what I see." He punctuated each word with a kiss up and down her neck before he lifted his chin and connected their lips. She felt him murmur "All my girls," against her lips and his hands pressed into her stomach as if to reassure her and punctuate his words even further.

They broke apart when they both heard Chris's excited squeal of "Carla's here!" and the sound of his footsteps clamouring down the hall to go and let her in. That was good. That meant that whenever Buck arrived, they could head off to Maddie's house.

(Y/n) wasn't ready. As much as she loved her big sister and her twin brother, it wasn't just them that they were having dinner with.

Their parents would be there.

Their parents had made the trip down since (Y/n) was a week away from her due date and Maddie had two months left before she would be ready to have her baby. This would be the first time they had seen their parents in over a year, the first time both sisters would see and interact with them since being pregnant.

And (Y/n) knew just what their mother would be like. Insufferable. She would be nit picking at any little thing she could, commenting on (Y/n) choice of clothing, how big she looked now, if she had decided to have a home birth or a hospital birth. Anything she didn't approve of would be outspoken and (Y/n) wasn't ready for that.

It was why Chris wasn't coming along with them tonight, it was just a small family gathering and (Y/n) didn't want him there in case her parents said anything out of order or upset him.

They barely acknowledged him as their grandson and they weren't so keen on him calling (Y/n) his mum because biologically, she wasn't. But they couldn't understand that (Y/n) loved him as her own and Chris thought of her as his real mum.

"Do you really think I look okay? You know what they're like." (Y/n) glanced towards the mirror before she looked over her shoulder at her husband.

He didn't look phased or disapproving and all she could see in his eyes was love and a while lot of lust.

His hands continued to roam across her stomach and as if to prove his silent point, he rolled her shirt up so it bunched beneath her bra, exposing her stomach to his eyes.

"Mi amor, you look beautiful… although I'd prefer you without these on." He gave a sharp tug on her shirt and pulled the elastic waistband on her leggings so they snapped back on her hips. Not enough to hurt, but enough to send an electric jolt through her nerves.

"Eddie…" (Y/n) latched her fingers into his hair when he shifted round to stand in front of her.

Her head tilted to one side and she watched with a quickening heartbeat as Eddie's eyes clouded over. Her fingers dragged through his wavy curls and her other hand clamped down on his shoulder while he roamed his hands across her stomach and round her hips. She tightened her fingers in his hair when she felt him try to drag down the hem of her leggings.

If he started this game they wouldn't end up leaving on time, and her brother was going to be round at any moment.

Her weight shifted from foot to foot when Eddie started a trail of kisses along her stomach and she could of cried when she heard him muttering 'beautiful' between each kiss.

"Dad!"

Eddie grumbled quietly against (Y/n)'s stomach but his lips curved into a wide smirk when he felt a kick beneath his lips. He pressed a few more butterfly kisses against her skin, running his fingertips across her hips before he pushed to stand back up to his normal height.

His fingers glided up her sides and he stole a kiss while he slowly pulled her shirt back down from where it was bunched beneath her bra. He much preferred the sight of her without anything on and he wanted nothing more than to strip her down here and now in the bedroom. But they both knew they had no time for that. Not now, not yet.

He stole a feverish kiss from her lips, inhaling every ounce of air she had in her lungs and (Y/n) could barely see when his fingers brushed beneath her chin and his thumb swiped across her lips when they parted.

(Y/n) moved her hands to her hair, fiddling to put it into a bobble while she slowly followed Eddie out the bedroom.

Once her hair was up, (Y/n) trailed one hand along the wall and pressed the other to her lower back. She couldn't move very fast these days, not when her back was throbbing and her stomach was weighing her down. She constantly felt like she needed to walk doubled over to ease the pain in her back and let her stomach hang forward like it clearly wanted to.

The twins were weighing her down and (Y/n) was desperate for her body to go into labour. She was close to her due date now. The midwife had warned her that she might go into early labour since she was having a multiple pregnancy.

She and Eddie had been on red alert since she hit thirty three weeks, but she was almost thirty nine weeks now and she hadn't gone into labour yet.

Eddie kept saying the girls were clearly too happy and comfy to meet them.

While Eddie headed into the dining room where Chris and Carla were, (Y/n) aimed for the living room. She wanted to sit down, again. She got one foot into the living room before the doorbell rang and had her groaning and turning in the other direction towards the hall.

"Chris, Buck's here." She could hear Chris dropping whatever was in his hands onto the table and she knew she heard Eddie moving about, but (Y/n) was closer to the door than the boys.

As predicted, when (Y/n) opened the door, it was her brother standing there on the other side. With a bright smile and sunglasses pushed up into his hairline now that he was on the doorstep to his second home.

"Come in." (Y/n) shuffled out the way and beckoned Buck inside, noticing the smirk on his lips when he looked up and down her attire. She knew she looked far from her best, doubled forward and tiredness clearly written on her face. When she noticed him raise a brow, she looked down and gave her shirt another tug so it covered her stomach a bit more.

"Are we ready for a family gathering?" He headed inside when (Y/n) moved out the way but he stayed close.

"No." (Y/n) grumbled, binding her arms around her waist while Chris pelted forward and barelled into Buck. She leaned back into Eddie when he stood behind her with his arms around her and his lips pressed against the back of her head.

She just wanted tonight to go smoothly and swiftly, but (Y/n) had a feeling tonight wouldn't go well at all.

***

(Y/n) closed her eyes and leaned her head back until she could tuck her face into Eddie's neck. She felt his arm loop around the back of her shoulders, holding her against his chest while he put his drink back down on his table and wormed his other arm around her waist.

His lips pressed to the top of her head and his hand feathered up and down her stomach while he glanced around the apartment. Out of them all here, Chimney seemed the most relaxed. Both twins were uneasy, they never knew how to act when they were around their parents. And Maddie seemed uncomfortable now the attention was on her. As for Eddie, he didn't get along well with Phillip and Margaret. Not after a family meal went wrong a year ago just before he and (Y/n) got married. And Eddie ended up raising his voice at Margaret after the way she spoke to (Y/n) and then subsequently told Phillip to fuck off.

They were being civil now because they both knew they had been in the wrong and they were trying to patch things up now both their daughters were about to become mothers.

Eddie was part of the family and if they wanted (Y/n) to stay in their lives, they had to accept Eddie too.

"You okay?" He whispered against the shell of her ear and pecked the side of her head.

"Stiff… give me a push?" She pushed forward, one hand on the table and the other on Eddie's thigh. Her lips curved into a smile when both Eddie's hands moved to her hips and he kissed the back of her neck, carefully helping her up to her feet.

Dinner had tasted great but the atmosphere had been a little tense. No one knew what to say or how to act and now, (Y/n) just wanted to go home. She wanted to curl up in bed with Eddie and try to get a proper night sleep.

Once she was up, (Y/n) gave Eddie's shoulder a squeeze and leaned over to kiss the top of his head. She felt his hand linger on her hip while she rounded the table and slowly padded into the kitchen to get another drink.

Her elbows dug into the kitchen counter and she arched out her lower back, smothering a groan when one of the twins started kicking. She wondered if her mum had been in this much discomfort when she was pregnant with her and Buck. Their mum never spoke about when she had them or when they were little, the only thing she used to say was she had them by C-section and that Buck had been perfectly healthy. While (Y/n) had a few problems to begin with.

"Are you good?"

A soft smile pulled at (Y/n)'s lips and she nodded when she felt Maddie's hand on her lower back and then her sister's chin was perched on her shoulder.

Maddie was the mother (Y/n) and Buck always wished they had. She was the one who patched them up and taught them to ride their bikes, she took them to appointments and walked them home from school and helped them with their homework. She gave them the unconditional love their parents didn't know how to give.

Sometimes when she was a teen, (Y/n) thought about telling people she didn't have any parents. She thought about saying that she was raised by her big sister because in a way, she was. It felt like life would have been better if she and Buck cut all ties with their parents rather than continuing to try and win their love and affection when it never worked.

"Yeah, just a bit of back ache, I'm good."

"Not long now." Maddie whispered, giving (Y/n)'s arm a squeeze just as their mother walked into the kitchen.

It wouldn't be long now and (Y/n) would have her two girls, then Maddie would have her daughter and they would all have a bigger extended family together. They would raise their three girls together and make sure all of them had a different, more stable and loving upbringing than the Buckley kids ever had.

"Maybe you should try straightening your posture honey, walking like this won't help you."

A tight-lipped smile grimaced on (Y/n)'s lips as she nodded but stayed leaning over the counter. She felt comfier and more at ease leaning over like this and (Y/n) didn't care about her posture. She felt weighed down and she would do whatever necessary to try and feel more at ease.

Eddie never said anything about her posture. He was forever wrapping his arms around her and holding her stomach up or lying with her and trying to find different positions that relieved her back ache and made her feel better.

"What are you wearing, honey?" Margaret danced her eyes up and down (Y/n)'s frame while (Y/n) slowly straightened up now she felt a bit better.

"Eddie's shirt." She shrugged and took another gulp of her drink but the way her mum narrowed her eyes and looked at her made (Y/n) shiver.

"Maybe you should try some bigger clothes, ones that actually fit… you are quite big now."

She was sure Margaret tried to reach out to rub her stomach but before she could, Eddie was in the way. His jaw was locked tight and his eyes were narrowed while his brows furrowed. He took a deep breath and walked up behind the girls, his hands on (Y/n)'s waist and his lips against her temple.

He kept his left hand on (Y/n)'s hip and his chest pressed into hers, her bump hidden between them so Margaret couldn't get too close. He reached around (Y/n) for one of the beer bottles on the counter behind her before he turned to look at his mother in law.

"It's almost as if we're having twins." He deadpanned, about to say something else until he felt (Y/n)'s hands on his chest and her lips kissing the side of his neck.

"Eddie," She murmured softly into his neck, a quiet warning sign for him not to start a fight right here and now.

"Let's sit down." Maddie's voice broke the tension in the air and she motioned her hands towards the living room where Chimney, Buck and Phillip were all sat with a drink each.

Eddie's arm looped around (Y/n)'s waist and he followed behind her, his lips stuck to the top of her head as he held both their drinks in his free hand. He took a quick look around the living room, debating where they should sit so they wouldn't have to be right next to Margaret who liked to cause arguments recently.

He took note of Phillip sitting in the armchair in the far corner and Buck was on the end of the sofa nearest to his dad. With that in mind, Eddie headed over to the sofa and sat down next to his brother in law and put their drinks on the coffee table. But when (Y/n) went to sit next to him, he shook his head.

He shuffled back and sat up straight, parting his legs with a smile that had (Y/n)'s skin heating up and made her heart add in two extra beats.

(Y/n) felt Eddie's hands on her waist and she pressed one hand onto his thigh while Buck reached out and held her left hand to help her sit down without breaking eye contact or conversation with their dad.

Both Eddie's arms circled around her middle so his hands could spread out across her stomach and his knees pressed into her thighs. Lovingly squeezing her into his embrace.

She felt Buck pat her knee and smile softly over at her while Maddie sank down on (Y/n)'s right next to her and Eddie. And Chimney perched on the arm of the sofa behind Maddie so their mum could sit on the other armchair. It was a bit of a tight fit for them all on the sofa, but they made it work. It was comfortable, cosy.

(Y/n) let herself slouch down into Eddie's chest a little more to try and get comfy and her hands moved down to hold Eddie's wrists. While his hands started to draw aimless patterns up and down her stomach. She knew he was waiting for one of the twins to start kicking or moving around. It seemed to be Eddie's mission to feel every movement during this pregnancy and she couldn't wait to see what he would be like once he finally had their girls in his arms.

"Here, we got you girls a few things."

Her attention turned to the left and she let her cheek flop onto Eddie's shoulder, nuzzling her nose against his shirt while she looked over at her dad.

He got up and came back a few seconds later, placing a few things down on the table in front of each of them.

Something softened in (Y/n)'s eyes as Eddie leaned them both forward so she could reach out and take a look. She caught her sister's eye and both of them shared a smile as they had a look. It was mainly a few baby grows, ranging from Winnie The Pooh to blushing pink, with a few teddies in the mix.

(Y/n) handed a few across to Buck so he could look through and held them up so Eddie could see. Although his chin was already perched on her shoulder so he could take a look.

"Thank you."

"These are so sweet," Maddie folded the clothes back up once she and Chimney had taken a look through before she reached out to look at the teddy bears.

The eldest Buckley sibling couldn't help but notice there were more personalised items in her pile than in her sister's. The onesies Maddie had said things like 'mummy's girl' or 'Granny's little star' and there was a rattle and a Winnie the Pooh bear. Whereas the onesies (Y/n) had were plain except for the one Pooh Bear one she had seen, and there weren't any rattles or bibs and only three teddies.

She tried not to overthink but when she looked at her younger sister, (Y/n) had already put the presents back down on the table. If she had noticed the differences, she wasn't letting it show. And something told Maddie the twins had both noticed, judging by the way (Y/n) snuggled further into Eddie and how Buck ran his hand up and down his freshly shaved jaw, hiding his displeasure.

"I can't believe it, three grandkids at once. You're first kids," Margaret reached across and ran her hand up and down Maddie's knee but she looked across at Buck when he scoffed.

"Chris is your first grandkid."

"Come on Buck, he doesn't count." Eddie muttered quietly, reaching across to grab his beer bottle and take a long swig. He wasn't bothered because Chris didn't care. He didn't think of (Y/n)'s parents as his grandparents. He had Eddie's mum and dad and he had (Y/n) as his mum and another aunt in Maddie and a great uncle in Buck. He didn't want or need anyone else.

And it wasn't as if Margaret and Phillip were around often anyway, they were barely parents to (Y/n) and Buck as it was. The twins didn't care about having a relationship with them anymore.

(Y/n) had her siblings, she had Eddie and Chris and now she had her daughters. She didn't need anyone else and Bobby and Athena seemed to have taken Buck and her under their wing and accepted them as part of their family so all in all, the twins had parents with Bobby and Athena.

"Evan, I meant that this is their first pregnancies, and both at the same time, it's so lovely." Margaret tried to smile before her eyes locked with (Y/n) and something flashed over her face. "Oh, well, the first pregnancy that's worked out, hm?"

Eddie's shoulders tensed and pulled upwards as he slammed his beer bottle back down on the coffee table.

"Jesus Christ." Anger seeped into his voice that was gritty and hard but oddly quiet.

(Y/n) could feel him tensing up behind her, one hand still on her stomach while the other hand dragged through his hair. He leaned forward, tugging (Y/n) back into his chest because he could feel the tremor that shuddered through her system. And his lips pressed against the back of her head, breathing into her hair to try and calm himself down.

"Mum!" Buck barked and leaned his elbow on the arm rest, propping his head up on his hand as he shook his head in anger.

How could she be that rude and inconsiderate? How could she not see that saying something like that was hurtful and would easily upset both (Y/n) and Eddie? That wasn't the kind of thing she should say, especially not to her daughter when she was almost nine months pregnant.

Part of (Y/n) wished they'd never agreed to come here tonight, it wasn't worth the hassle of being around their parents. And the other part of her wished Maddie never told their parents about the miscarriage she had not long after she and Eddie got engaged.

But (Y/n) had been twenty weeks along when she miscarried and by then Maddie had just told their parents the good news that (Y/n) would be the first of the three siblings to have a baby.

"Alright, alright let's not start arguing." Phillip held his hands out in front of them to try and calm the room down while Chimney sat forward on the arm rest.

"Uh, what's in that box over there?" Chimney pointed across towards the pale cream box he could see near the window. Maybe that would prove to be a great distraction for them all and lead them back onto a more pleasant talk for the evening.

"Oh," Margaret seemed to become animated again and she got up to retrieve the box that had Maddie written in cursive writing across the top with glittered letters. "The baby box I made when we had Maddie, here. I thought you might like it, maybe you could make one for your little girl."

A tremor tore through (Y/n) when she looked at the box and she couldn't help but push back into Eddie who gripped her tighter. He leaned his head round to look at her, wondering what was wrong, but he could read her expression like a book he knew off by heart.

All night while they had been here and the other infrequent times her parents had been down while she and Maddie had been pregnant, they had been more pleased for Maddie than for (Y/n). They asked Maddie questions, they wanted to keep copies of her scan photos and know if she had names and see the nursery all sorted out.

Whereas with (Y/n), they seemed to play along like they were feigning interest. Eddie knew it hurt. He knew no matter how much of a brave face (Y/n) tried to wear, it upset her to know she and Buck had to fight for attention that Maddie got without question.

(Y/n) rested her head back on Eddie's shoulder and closed her eyes, looping both hands around his bicep as she looked at her sister. She didn't want to look in the box. (Y/n) didn't want to know what little treasures their mum had kept from when Maddie was little.

But when she felt her twin lean over with one hand on her arm and the other rummaging through the box, she knew Buck felt it too. The slight displacement they had suffered through all their lives.

"That's so cool, did you bring ours?"

One little look at her mum was enough to cause a callous smile to cross (Y/n)'s face and she couldn't hide the tears welling up in her eyes.

"We don't have one Buck. Do we?"

Both parents stayed quiet, sharing a few looks with each other while Buck gripped (Y/n)'s arm and leaned closer to her as if to comfort his twin. He could feel her heart breaking and it made his own chest tighten like he was about to have a heart attack.

(Y/n) wasn't sure what Eddie was about to whisper in her ear when he kissed her neck, but he didn't get chance to say when (Y/n) looked at her sister. She noticed Maddie trying to scrunch up a picture and slide it beneath her leg, something she always did when she was trying to hide something. Whether it was a bad report card she didn't want their parents seeing or a party invite she was trying to hide from the twins to make a big surprise.

She uncurled one hand from Eddie's bicep and snatched the picture before Maddie had chance to stuff it under her leg or the sofa.

She recognised that red bike.

It was the one they used to have in the garage, the one that presumably had been Maddie's when she was younger because their mother kept it even when Maddie outgrew it. She wouldn't allow the twins to touch it, let alone try and learn how to ride a bike with that red, tattered old thing.

But that wasn't Buck on the bike. (Y/n) knew what her twin looked like as a child, and this wasn't him. And when she turned the picture round and saw the date on the back, she noticed it was over a year before the twins had even been born.

"Who is that?"

Eddie peered over her shoulder and Buck leaned over her arm to get a look, but when he looked at their parents, both of them had gone as white as paper. Tears were welling up in their mother's eyes and their dad was scratching the back of his neck, a nervous habit he had never been able to hide.

It was the tears in Maddie's eyes that had both twins on edge. Why was she covering her mouth and trying not to cry? Why was she looking at them with such sorrow like that?

"Daniel."

"We, um… we had him two years after Maddie. He had leukaemia, he, he passed when you were only babies."

Every thought possible swirled round in (Y/n)'s head as she felt both her brother's hands on her shoulders like he didn't believe what he was hearing. This couldn't be possible. Why wouldn't they tell them? Why would they keep such a secret? Why would they keep this all to themselves? Were the twins not worthy of knowing they had a big brother they never got to meet?

"Wh- no, no. No you never told us- why wouldn't you tell us something like this? Why wouldn't you acknowledge him around us?" Buck's voice grew louder and louder with each word as his head snapped from left to right, trying to look between his parents who he didn't recognise right now.

There was no plausible explanation for hiding something like this. If Buck ever had kids and God forbid he lost one, he wouldn't erase them from existence and pretend they never happened. They had never celebrated Daniel's birthday. They never had pictures of him in the house- there were hardly any pictures of the twins in the house as it was. No one uttered his name or had any memory of him in the house.

"We lost him, Evan. We didn't want to live our lives mourning him-"

"So you chose to forget him?"

"Evan we would never-"

"No, oh no. You… you didn't…" The words wouldn't come out. All (Y/n) could do was let the tears fall from her eyes as she began to shake in Eddie's arms.

"Baby, what's wrong?" Both Eddie's hands moved to her stomach as he sat up straighter behind her and leaned round. Was she having pains? Did she not feel well, was she going to be sick? He couldn't work out what was wrong and neither could Buck who stopped rambling so he could reach out for his sister's hand.

But when Maddie tried to take (Y/n)'s hand, the younger girl shook her off and leaned into Eddie.

"You s-said I wasn't planned, that I- I was the surprise, but Buck wasn't." (Y/n)wiped her eyes but the tears continued to fall. "We were donor babies, weren't we?"

The way Margaret's lower lip wobbled and Phillip refused to look at either of them while he pressed his hands to his mouth secured (Y/n)'s answer.

They were donor babies.

They were designed embryos, made with the exact blood and bone marrow type to match the brother they never knew they had. They were supposed to save him. They weren't wanted, neither of them were born to be wanted or loved or cherished. They were born specifically to save the child their parents did want and they couldn't even do that right.

Everything seemed to slot into place and the more pieces that fitted together, the more (Y/n) started to feel sick and feel bile rising to the back of her throat.

All those times their parents never made a fuss on their birthdays, all those times they barely heard the words 'I love you' unless it was Maddie telling them. Each time they had to get hurt for attention or run away to cause a panic and be shown that they were valued and cherished. Each time (Y/n) asked about when they were born and their mother refused to answer, this was why.

Their mum always used to say that having twins was a surprise. That (Y/n) wasn't planned, she was a surprise since she was the younger twin by five minutes. This was why. They planned to have one more child to save their son but they ended up with (Y/n) too. Neither of them were truly wanted, they were just needed for a short while and then couldn't be returned after they were no longer of use.

This was why the twins always felt disconnected and why there were barely any photos of them growing up. This was why all of the pictures of (Y/n) and Buck as babies were with no one holding them. (Y/n) had been the sick twin, stuck in the hospital for two weeks before coming home and there was only one photo of her in the hospital when she was born.

Did they even visit her when she was sick? Did they check on her, or did they just take what they needed from her and Evan and stay with Daniel the whole time?

"All these years. All this time, we felt so out of place and alone, and this is why. You never wanted us. Did we remind you of him? Did we fail you every day we woke up and he didn't?"

"Evan please, we tried our best-"

"We just wanted you to love us!"

The sheer outburst and the way that Buck bolted up from the sofa sent everyone reeling.

The artery in his neck was close to bursting, his hand was pointing out at his parents and his jaw was grinding tight and about to dislocate. His body was shaking from adrenaline as he glared at them. His parents had lied to him all his life. His big sister who was the only one who loved him, she never told him why he felt so out of place and unloved and misunderstood. The only person he could rely on was his twin and she felt exactly the same as him.

Maddie was leaning into Chimney who had an arm around her shoulders, pulling her into his side. Margaret was crying into her hands, unable to look away from her son for the first time in a long while, and Phillip was now stood up, running his fingers through his hair as he tried not to breakdown.

And then there was (Y/n). Silently crying, rocking back and forth with Eddie's arms around her and his lips pressed against the back of her head.

"I walk into fire every day of my life because of you. I tried everything to get your approval, to get you to love me, to love us the way you do Maddie, but nothing would ever work. And now I know why, because we failed you."

When Maddie tried again to reach out for her sister, she gasped when (Y/n) all but slapped her touch away.

"You should have t-told us." All those times (Y/n) and Buck asked why their parents didn't pay them any attention or turn up for school plays or listen to them or even love them. Maddie had the answers and she never said anything. She should have told them the moment the twins moved out. She had years to tell them and she never mentioned it. Not once.

(Y/n) ran her hands across her face, brushing the tears away before she moved her hands to Eddie's thighs to push herself up.

"I wanna go home."

She could feel both twins wriggling and waking up and she had to lean forward to ease the pain in her stomach and the horrible twinging pains shooting up and down her spine.

One hand pressed to her stomach and the other reached out for Eddie's shoulder, knowing that if she didn't try and prop herself up she was going to collapse. She didn't want to stay here any longer. (Y/n) wanted to go home. She wanted to leave and be alone with Eddie and be home where she felt safe enough to cry and scream and let everything sink in and wash over her.

She felt Eddie grip her elbow and his other hand moved round to her waist as he stood behind her.

"Guys, you don't have to leave." Chimney pushed up from the sofa along with Maddie who tried to reach out for them. But she pushed back into Chimney, smothering a cry when (Y/n) shook her off and moved away.

"I feel sick… please, take me home." (Y/n) pressed her face into Eddie's arm and shrugged back into him when her dad tried to reach out for her.

Why were they all trying to grab her? Why couldn't they just let her go home? She didn't want to be here. She didn't feel safe here. Maddie lied to her. Their parents lied to them their entire lives and now the twins understood why their parents looked at them the way they did. She wanted to leave.

"Alright baby, we're leaving now."

Eddie moved his hands to (Y/n)'s hips and carefully guided her forward while he felt Buck follow swiftly behind them since he had drove them here. And he wasn't staying here to continue arguing. He didn't want to see his parents again for an indefinite amount of time and he wasn't going to forgive Maddie yet for this. He wanted to be with his twin or be on his own.

Reaching across, Eddie snatched (Y/n)'s bag from the kitchen counter and looped it over his shoulder while Buck grabbed his keys and opened the door.

His hands tightened on (Y/n)'s hips as he leaned around her when (Y/n gripped his wrist tightly and moved her other hand to her stomach as they shuffled out the door. Her lower abdomen was aching. She couldn't help but lean forward once they were in the hall and she felt like crumpling over and sliding down to her knees.

"Baby?"

Fright dwelled in Eddie's stomach and pierced through his heart with doses of adrenaline when (Y/n) tilted her head over her shoulder to look up at him. He didn't like the way she tightened her hand around his wrist or how she leaned against the wall while they heard Buck slammed the door closed behind them.

"Hurts."

"What? What hurts?" Buck rested one hand on Eddie's shoulder and leaned over them both to try and figure out what was going on. He could see Eddie shaking his head and groaning while (Y/n) pressed her hand against the wall so she didn't go down on her knees.

"Christ. I hope you're not going into labour, mi amor."

#eddie diaz x reader #imagine #911 imagine #evan buckley #pregnant! reader #eddie diaz imagine #eddie x reader #eddie diaz #maddie buckley han #howard han

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violentdelightsandviolentends · 1 year ago

Text

Honey Girl. Chapter Four.

Chapter One. Chapter Two. Chapter Three. Chapter Five. Chapter Six. Chapter Seven. Chapter Eight. Chapter Nine. Chapter Ten. Series Masterlist. The Playlist.

Chapter Synopsis - You and Bucky deal with the fallout of Cora's reveal. What's that saying? If you love something, let it go...

Pairing - Dad'sBestFriend! Bucky Barnes x Female Reader - soulmate au

Age Rating - 18+

Warnings - cursing. angst. alcohol consumption.

Word Count - 5k

Author's Note - i can only apologise that this chapter took a little while!! my life is at a super weird place rn, so i'm just trying to find the time when i can. words cannot describe how incredible all of your support is for Honey Girl. the fact you all reblog and comment and send me asks means the world to me. love you all so much.

as always, reblogs, comments and feedback (even anonymous feedback) are immensely appreciated!! your reblogs are the only way to circulate my fics, which keeps me going <3

Masterlist. Inbox.

You can't breathe.

It's like all of the oxygen has been sucked out of the air, leaving it dry, brittle, sterile. Your lungs are burning, scratched like sandpaper. The backyard is spinning, like teenagers at a roller rink - all flashing lights and endless rotations.

You haven't taken your eyes off of Bucky, and he hasn't taken his eyes off of you. If you were thinking more logically, you'd probably realise that you've been staring at each other for too long, and it's starting to look a little suspicious. You don't care.

Your ears are ringing. It's like there's been an explosion, and you're scattered amongst the debris. Smoke, flames, rubble. A catastrophic detonation in your parents backyard.

A gentle hand on your shoulder snaps you back to reality. The music is still playing, everyone around the table is still conversing, the house still stands. No explosion here.

"Sweetheart?"

It's your Mom, clearly sensing your distress. She probably thinks you're upset with her, for telling Cora. You are, but that's not what's causing the pain in your chest.

"Come inside with me, baby girl. Let's get away from the noise for a second."

She grabs your hand and pulls you out of your chair, still none the wiser to the magnetism preventing you from breaking your gaze that's locked on Bucky's. She practically drags you inside, the cool air of the kitchen waking you up.

"Sweetheart, I am so, so sorry. Cora overheard the conversation we had earlier. I thought it was good news, so I didn't think to ask her to keep it private."

She looks like she's being eaten alive by guilt. Your bottom lip quivers, your eyes well up, and before you know it, there are warm, salty tears dripping down your cheeks.

"Hey, hey. What's the matter?"

You sit down on the tiled floor, back pressed against the cabinets. Curling your knees to your chest, you try to stifle your sobs.

"Everything's such a mess, Mama."

She drops to the ground, gathering you in her arms. She holds you as tight as she can, rubbing soothing circles into your back and whispering comforting words in your ear. Eventually, she pulls back to look at you.

"What's the matter, baby? I thought Stella's call was a good thing - that you'd be excited to go back to California."

You take a shaky breath before replying.

"It's just... I think - I don't, it's... it's so complicated."

She traces her fingers over your cheeks, your eyebrows, your nose. She dances her fingertips over your face, as if she's committing it to her mind forever. It brings back warm and cosy childhood memories of her doing the same thing to help you sleep. The two of you would snuggle up against all of your pillows in bed, tucked up and safe. She'd lie with you until she was sure you were dreaming, before kissing you on the forehead and sneaking out.

"Talk to me. We can figure it out. We always do."

"It's not that simple. I just... there's a lot going on, I guess. I thought it'd be an easy decision, but it isn't, and it's all I can think about, and it's eating me up because I'm so scared I'm gonna do the wrong thing -"

You cut yourself off with a sob, resting your head on your knees.

"I knew there was something bothering you, sweetheart. Why didn't you come and talk to us? Even if we can't fix it, we can listen."

"I thought I could handle it. I thought I could figure it out on my own."

"You don't ever have to carry stress like this on your own, baby girl. Ever. You hear me?"

You nod and lean into her, letting her rock you in her arms on the kitchen floor.

"I'm sorry again, about Cora. She means well, you know she does."

"I know. Doesn't feel like it sometimes, but I know."

A pause.

"Okay, sweetheart. What are we going to do now? Whatever you decide, we'll support you."

"Your Mom's right," your Dad says from the doorway. "Whatever you choose, we'll be right alongside you. No matter what."

He strides over to join the two of you on the floor, sandwiching you between him and your Mom.

"If you need help packing up and moving, we're here. If you need us to create an elaborate lie to tell Stella, we're here. Either way, you've got us."

You smile at him gently, leaning to rest your head on his shoulder. Regardless of what happens, you have two parents that love you more than anything in the world. That has to count for something.

"You wanna rejoin us outside, or are you too tired? No one will blame you if you go home."

"I think I'll go home," you murmur. "I don't wanna face any more questions for today."

"Bucky's just gone too. Said something about an early morning tomorrow."

You inhale shakily at the mention of his name. You know you'll have to face him sooner or later.

Your Dad stands and grabs your hands to help you to your feet, before doing the same to your Mom. They both hug you tightly before walking you out to the front door.

"Promise me you'll call if you need anything. Anything."

"I promise, Mama. Don't worry about me. I'll be okay."

"Do you want one of us to walk you home?"

"No, it's okay. I think I need the air."

"Love you, baby girl."

"Love you too. Both of you."

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

You're halfway home when you decide to turn around. You need to talk to Bucky.

It doesn't take you long to figure out where he is. You can feel in your chest that he's close by, that he hasn't strayed far. He hasn't gone home, though. The Universe is pulling you in the opposite direction.

The beach.

You spin on your heel and start walking down the road, picking up pace as you go. You can feel rain in the air, threatening to spill from the clouds at any given moment. Before you know it, you're running, sprinting along the sidewalk in the direction of your soulmate.

You get to the small boardwalk and look out over the sand. The sky is grey as concrete, cold and unforgiving. You spot a figure in a worn brown leather jacket by the shore, and you know instantly. It's him.

You march onto the beach with your shoes still on, wrapping your arms around yourself to act as a shield from the wind. You left your jacket at your parent's house, too eager to get out of there in a hurry. The rain is suspended in the air, never quite reaching the ground. You know it's only a matter of time before the heavens open.

"Bucky!" you yell, practically bounding across the sand. "Buck!"

He doesn't turn because he hears your voice. He turns because he suddenly feels like he can breathe, which he hasn't been able to do for the last hour. He knew you were there before you shouted his name.

"Bucky, please!"

He spins on his heel and stops walking, waiting for you to catch up with him. You're sprinting, panting as you reach him. The ocean waves crash against the shore, dangerously close to his boots.

"Buck, just let me explain," you choke out, trying to catch your breath.

You finally stop running and look at him. He looks broken. His hair looks like he's pulled his fingers through it repeatedly, tear tracks staining his cheeks, lips bitten red. You've never seen him upset like this. It's the worst thing you've ever witnessed.

"There's nothing to explain," he begins calmly, trying to keep a lid on his feelings.

"There is, Buck. There is. I... Cora overheard me confiding in my Mom, telling her about a call I'd gotten, from a classmate at culinary school. It was just an offer - I haven't accepted anything! I never meant for you to find out like this, I swear. It's all just... it's all so fucked up."

He looks at you in disbelief.

"No, you know what's fucked up?" he asks, raising his voice. "Finding out that my soulmate is moving across the country from some alcoholic suburban mom at a dinner party!"

You've never heard him yell before. You don't like it at all. You gather yourself before replying calmly, determined to keep you emotions under wraps.

"I've been trying to find a way to talk to you about it, but I didn't know where to start. How do I even begin to explain any of this?"

"Maybe, I don't know - 'hey, Buck, I got a call and I'm thinking of moving thousands of miles away for my dream job,' would be a good place to start?"

"It's more complicated than that. I was trying to protect you."

"Protect me from what?"

"From blowing your life up for me!"

You stare at each other for a minute, both of you unblinking.

"What are you talking about?" he croaks out.

"You'd drop everything for me, Bucky, and I can't let you do that. You've worked too damn hard to let it all go."

He's dumbfounded, for a moment. Not because he doesn't understand. No. He's realising that you're right.

"I knew that if I told you straight away, you'd have persuaded me to let you come with, and I would have said yes. And then you'd regret it, and you'd resent me, and we'd be over before we've even begun."

When he doesn't say anything, you continue.

"The thing is, Buck, the selfish part of me would have happily invited you along. Me and you, in California, running a bakery? That sounds like a fucking dream. But I have to listen to the other side of me, the selfless part. And that part is telling me that you have worked too damn hard for too damn long just for me to take that all away."

You feel droplets of water on your face, and for a moment, you wonder when you started to cry again. Then, in the deep distance, you hear a crack of thunder. The rain begins to pour, both of you caught in a storm in more ways than one.

"You don't get to make a decision like that for me!" he finally responds, yelling to be heard over the downpour. "We're supposed to talk about these things! To figure them out together! That's what soulmates are - we're a team!"

"I can't think rationally around you, Bucky! It's like all logic goes out the window. I'm just so overwhelmed with-"

You stop yourself before the word comes out, but you both know what you were about to say. He feels it in his ribcage, the surge of emotion from you.

"-with how I feel about you. You're my forever, Buck, and I feel like -" a sob wracks through you, shaking your frame. "-like I've fucked it all up already."

Your tears mix with the rainwater, trailing down your cheeks. You watch as Bucky fights with himself, internally battling his feelings.

"You're not the only one fucking it up," he chokes. "You repeatedly told me we had to take it slow, but I just... couldn't help myself. I've never felt for anyone what I feel for you, and being away from you for even a minute is fucking torture. I moved us too fast, and now look where we are. We've become the equivalent of a married couple in a couple of weeks. No one can handle change that sudden."

"It's not.. none of this is your fault, Buck. I kept something from you, something big. I know it doesn't matter now, but I want you to know how hard it's been to not tell you. It was killing me."

"I felt it," he murmurs shakily, willing himself not to cry. "In my chest. You were so torn up about something, and I just couldn't figure out what it was. I should have pushed you more, but I was worried I'd push you away."

Your lip trembles as you watch him bite his own anxiously.

"I'm so scared, Buck," you whisper. "I feel so lost and so confused and like nothing makes sense."

"Me too," he whispers back, eyes never leaving yours. "I'm fucking terrified. Our worlds have been turned upside down."

"Is it... is it supposed to be this hard? Everyone makes it sound so easy."

"I don't know. Maybe the Universe heard that we were anti-soulmate and decided to be super tough on us. Cosmic karma, or something."

You choke out a laugh through your tears. The rain has plastered your clothes to your body, the salty wind chilling you to the bone. Without thinking, Bucky takes off his jacket and wraps it around you, unable to watch you shiver any longer.

"What now?" you ask quietly. If he wasn't standing so close, he wouldn't have heard it.

"Let's get out of the storm," he suggests, nodding his head towards the path home. "We can talk some more somewhere warmer."

You sniffle and take a deep breath, willing yourself to get it together. Bucky surprises you by linking your hand with his, warm fingers intertwining around yours.

He doesn't let go the whole way home.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

Bucky takes you to his house.

You haven't been here since before your Tethering. You walk in the door, and your knees threaten to give way.

It's overwhelming.

Everywhere - everything - smells like Bucky. His scent clings to every fabric, every upholstery, every room. There's pictures scattered across the mantelpiece, his handsome face staring at you wherever you go. The house is warm, cosy, and just so Bucky it makes your heart ache.

You walk over to the fireplace, taking a closer look at the array of frames adorning it. There's one of your parents and Bucky smiling, sat out on his lawn last summer; another of Bucky and his team of mechanics, stood proudly outside his garage. A small black frame catches your eye. You pick it up, and your breath hitches in your chest.

It's a picture of the two of you on the deck of his boat, the day after you found out you were soulmates. The wind is blowing your hair, billowing your shirts, sun beating down on your skin. You're both beaming at the camera, bright and blinding, completely content.

You're holding back tears as you put it back in it's original place.

"My favourite picture," he murmurs from somewhere behind you. "We look happy."

"We were happy," you whisper. Then, quieter, "We will be again."

A pause.

"You want something to drink? Coffee, cocoa? Oh, I have that tea you like, the apple one?"

"You do?"

"Yeah. I, uh, bought some last time I went grocery shopping. In case you stopped by."

"Tea sounds good. Please."

You stay stood in the middle of the living room while Bucky puts the kettle on the stove, worried that your wet clothes will ruin his couch. As if he's read your mind, he pops his head around the door.

"There's a load of fresh clothes folded on top of the dryer. Grab whatever you want, dry off a little."

You wander into the laundry room, sorting through the pile. You find a t shirt with his garage logo on the back in big, white letters.

J.B.B. Motorcycles and Automotives.

The blocky, bold font swirls across the black material. You run your fingers over it, tracing the curves and spikes of the typeface. It's something you've seen him in a million times. You inhale deeply as you slip it over your head, revelling in the way it smells like him. You grab some boxer shorts and slip those on too, glad to finally be warm and dry.

Bucky loses his breath when you walk into the room. He's never seen you in his clothes before, and for good reason. He's about to have a goddamn heart attack.

"Tea is on the coffee table," he chokes out. "I'm gonna change, and then we'll talk, yeah?"

You nod gently, settling into the cushions of his couch and tucking your legs underneath you, mug warming your hands.

When Bucky returns, he's in sweatpants and an oversized hoodie that you want to burrow yourself into. He takes his place, careful to put a little distance between you. Far enough that you're not touching, but close enough that you almost are.

"I'm sorry," you whisper. "I'm not good at this."

"Neither am I," he smiles gently. "It's my first time having a soulmate."

"Mine too," you laugh softly.

It floors you, his ability to always be able to comfort you. It's like a superpower, the way he always knows what to say or do to put you at ease.

"I think we got a little ahead of ourselves," he begins, careful to keep his voice low and deliberate. "I keep forgetting that we have forever. Literally. I was so eager to rush into this with you because I got excited. Don't get me wrong, I'm still ridiculously excited, but I'm realising now that our version of 'slow' wasn't slow at all."

"This whole Tethering thing makes everything so intense. There have been times where I honestly thought I was going to drop dead if you didn't kiss me."

"The feelings mutual," he chuckles.

You lace your fingers with his, never breaking eye contact, before addressing the elephant in the room.

"What am I gonna do about California, Buck?"

Your voice cracks just saying the word.

"Stella needs an answer, and I've upset you, and my parents are clueless, and I just - I don't know what to do. Tell me what to do. Please."

"I can't tell you what to do, honey," he soothes, running his thumb over the back of your hand. "And I'm not upset. I was, in the backyard... but I was mainly just blindsided. I kinda get it, you not telling me. I'm not sure what I'd do in your situation either."

"I just feel like both decisions are wrong. I can't win."

"Hey, hey. Look at me, pretty baby."

Bucky cradles your face in his warm hands, forcing your eyes to meet his ocean blue ones. You have to focus on his words, so you don't get lost in the waves of his irises.

"At the end of the day, it's completely your decision, and no one in the world can change that. But-"

He takes a deep breath, and continues.

"I think that you'll regret it every day for the rest of your life if you don't take the incredible opportunity that's been offered to you."

You take a second to process what he's telling you, your mind running at a thousand miles an hour.

"Are you... you're... are you saying I should take the job?"

"Like I said, it's your decision, but... yes. I'm saying you should take the job."

Your eyes well with tears, and you bite your lip to stop them from escaping. Inhaling carefully, you put your hands on his chest, feeling his steady heartbeat under your palms. He's calm. He's sure. He's collected enough for the both of you.

"What about us?" you ask, barely above a whisper.

"Like you said, baby. I'm your forever." Buck leans in, resting his forehead to yours. "We have time."

"All the time in the world."

You connect your lips to Bucky's softly, testing the waters. He kisses you back with so much feeling, tears slip from your lashes without warning. He's crying too, emotion mixing with yours, dousing you both.

You pull away and wrap your arms around him, curling yourself into his chest. He holds you as tightly as he can, knowing this will be the last time for a long time.

"So you'll go."

"I'll go."

"And I'll stay."

"You'll stay."

"And we'll be okay. No matter what, we'll be okay."

You and Bucky fall asleep in each others arms, cherishing the feeling of home one last time.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

The happiness is starting to seep through.

You're devastated to be leaving Bucky behind, but you're trying to look on the bright side. Sunny beaches, new people, your dream job. If you think about the positives for long enough, the Bucky sized hole in your chest hurts a little less.

You're packing up your bookshelf when your phone rings, scaring the life out of you.

"Bitch!"

You know who it is instantly.

"Hi, Lacie."

"Where have you been? Why didn't you answer my text from last night?"

"Shit, sorry. I've been packing. What's up?"

"We're going out tonight. Not just us - all the girls. We're throwing you a goodbye party!"

You groan inwardly, massaging your temples with your fingers.

"A party? Lace, I don't need a party."

"Babe, you do. You really do. It'll be fun! I thought you'd be excited!"

You take a deep breath, and remember what you've been telling yourself. Focus on the positives.

"Okay, fine. Where? What time? What should I wear?"

"I knew you'd say yes! Come to my place at like... six? We can get ready together, like old times! And wear something sexy."

She doesn't wait for you to argue, just hangs up the phone. She knows you too well.

You know it'll be good for you, to see your girlfriends - but the thought of all the goodbyes you're about to say breaks your heart a little more.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

"Okay, what the fuck is going on with you?"

You're sat cross legged on Lacie's living room floor, sharing makeup that's scattered across the coffee table. You sip your wine for a moment, trying to come up with an excuse. It's no use.

"I don't know."

"Bullshit."

You turn to look at her.

"What?"

"It's bullshit, babe. Something's going on. You've been given your dream job, and you're moping around like you just got broken up with or something. Why aren't you happy?"

There's no malice in her voice, just pure love. She adores you. You adore her. She's the one person with an outsiders perspective on all of this. So, you cut the act.

"I had my Tethering."

Silence.

She's processing.

"What?!"

"Yeah."

"When? Who? Where? How? Oh my God what is happening? Why didn't you say anything? Fuck, I'm gonna cry. I'm so overwhelmed right now, I'm so happy for you! Wait... are we not happy?"

"It's... complicated."

There's a lump in your throat, but a levity in your heart. A weight has been taken off you. Telling someone the truth has made you feel a little lighter.

"Who is it, babe?"

You take a deep breath, and look her in the eyes.

"Bucky."

Her jaw drops.

"Your... your Dad's best friend Bucky?"

"That's the one."

"Oh. My. Fucking. God."

"Yeah."

"Holy shit."

"Yeah."

"This is complicated."

"Yeah."

"Aw, babe."

She pulls you in for a hug, not caring about the makeup you're smearing across her shirt. You cling to her as tightly as you can, savouring your best friends comfort.

"Does anyone else know?"

"No. We decided not to tell my parents for a while."

"Shit. No wonder you've been so sad lately. You're moving across the country, away from the one person you're supposed to be near."

"It's really hard," you whisper, tears threatening to spill.

"I can't even begin to imagine," she murmurs, holding you close. "I wish you'd told me sooner. We could have talked about it."

"I know," you sniffle. "I thought I could handle it on my own, but I really can't."

"You're not on your own, okay? You have Bucky, and you have me. You can always talk to me about this stuff. God knows I talked your ear off about Cameron."

You laugh softly, thinking back to that day that feels both like yesterday and a million years ago.

"Where is he tonight?"

"Out with his boys. It's good for us to spend a few hours apart."

You smile at the happiness that's radiating off her. She's glowing, beaming in all directions.

"Thanks, Lace. I love you. You know that right?"

"Of course I do. I love you too. So much," she leans forward to kiss your cheek. "Now let's have one hell of a last girls night, shall we?"

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

You've lost track of exactly where you are.

You know you're downtown somewhere, in one of the bars. This one smells like wood and whiskey, lowlit and smoky. You hit the cocktail bar first, then the one covered in leopard print, then the monochrome pink one. Now, you're here.

The six of you are sat at a booth, high heels tangled and legs intertwined under the table. The wood is sticky with lemon wedges from tequila shots, salt scattered across the surface.

"If you find any hot west coast men, will you send them my way?" Reese asks, nudging you with her shoulder.

"And if you find any hot west coast women, will you send them mine?"

Everyone laughs, the scent of perfume filling the air.

"Rosa, what happened to Aubrey? We liked her!"

"Caught her kissing my ex girlfriend. So now they're both my ex girlfriends."

"Jesus Christ."

"Man, that's rough," Lacie giggles next to you.

The other girls continue to talk about Aubrey's infidelity as Lacie leans to whisper in your ear.

"Have you said goodbye to Bucky yet?"

You nod.

"Yesterday. I stayed the night, we fell asleep together. Said our goodbyes in the morning. It was awful."

"Love you," she whispers, squeezing your hand under the table.

"Love you too," you reply, squeezing back.

"There's a table of super hot guys over there," Maggie observes, tilting her head in their direction. "Maybe we should conveniently dance that way in a little while."

You don't bother to look over, knowing that none of them will compare to your soulmate. The other girls seem interested, though, so you smile along with them.

"Babe," Sam hisses, kicking you under the table. "There's a hot guy at that table, three o'clock, that keeps staring at you."

You glance over, and your heart stutters in your chest.

Bucky.

His blue eyes pierce your soul, even from across the room. For a moment, it's only the two of you, all the noise forgotten.

You're snapped back to reality by Sam.

"Fuck, he's hot. If you don't want him, I do."

"You should talk to him," Lacie suggests quickly. "Why not, right?"

She's practically pushing you out of the booth, high school wrestler style. In another life, you think, she would have made a good football player. All five foot four of her.

You walk past his table, eyes still locked on him, and towards the bathrooms. You know he'll follow you. You walk to the end of the hallway and out of the door, into the fresh night air.

You feel him appear before you see him. You lean your body against the wall, head resting on the cold brick. Bucky stands in front of you, shirt stretched across his shoulders gorgeously.

"Hi."

"Hi, honey baby."

You smile softly at the nickname.

"What are you doing here?"

"I got dragged to a boys night. What are you doing here?"

"I got dragged to a girls night."

He laughs, and all the tension melts from your muscles.

"Thought we said our goodbyes. I didn't think I'd see you again before I left."

"Me too. But you know the Universe. It hates us."

"Cosmic karma," you whisper.

The two of you stand down the alleyway, looking at each other carefully. Neither of you wants to spook the other person. You'd processed your leaving, said your emotional goodbyes. And now he's here, standing in front of you. You don't want to have to do it all again.

"I should probably get back inside, before the girls get the wrong idea."

"Baby, I followed you to the bathroom. They've already got the wrong idea."

You chuckle, kicking at a rock on the ground.

"Yeah. I don't know how I'm gonna explain this."

A smile. A pause.

"I'll let you get back to your friends, then."

You lean up to press a kiss to his stubbled cheek.

"Bye, Buck."

"Bye, pretty girl."

You push off the wall and walk away towards the door. Suddenly, a warm hand wraps around your wrist, yanking you into a solid chest.

Bucky kisses you like a man possessed. There's nothing gentle about it - just pure, unadulterated passion. It's all teeth and tongue and nipping and biting, neither of you willing to be the first to pull away.

He walks you back into the wall, pushing you against the rough brick. You hike a leg up onto his hip as he grabs your thigh to pull you closer, desperate to feel all of you. Your hands are in his hair, around his neck, tangled in his collar, his shirt, his belt loops. Anything you can get your hands on, you grab.

A distant chorus of cheers break you out of your lust fuelled haze. A bachelorette party walks by, one of the women winking at you as they go. You and Bucky take a step away from each other, straightening out your clothes and fixing your hair.

"Promise me you'll call me if you need anything," Bucky murmurs, leaning to rest his forehead on yours.

"I promise," you whisper, almost against his lips. "Goodbye, Bucky."

"Goodbye, honey girl."

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

The salty ocean wind whips through your hair, sun beating down onto your skin, some upbeat pop song humming from the radio. You keep your eyes glued to the road in front of you, begging yourself not to look back. You know if you do, you'll turn the car around and run straight back into Bucky's arms.

Let the happiness seep through, you remind yourself, gripping the steering wheel.

Let the happiness seep through.

tag list part one -

@lillytracy6996 @securegorgon @roostersforevergirl @povlvr @val-writesstuff @dreadfulxives18 @1deadpool26 @abbygraceasd @nyutasgirl @mavrellover91 @winterslove1917 @f-this42 @skewedcherries @noisesinthedark @kandis-mom @black-cat-2 @harrystylesandthegoobs @vladsgirlxx @h0nestly-though @arienotari @nash-dara @wandaneedstherapy @galaxy-dusk @justherefortheficandsmut @cremebruleequeen @cjand10 @buggy14 @avengers-fixation @blueberrybambi @beautiful-loserr @sarah1barnes @miss-rebel-without-applause @ragingrainbowshipl @shamrockqueen @savemeroman @jenn-f @8crazy-freak8 @daddyjackfrost @openup-yourmind @adangerousbalance @mandijo17 @daddylorianisastateofmind @rcarbo1 @casa-boiardi @spideegwen @navs-bhat @mssbridgerton @asuni921 @middle-of-the-earth @mfrnchsk

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takes1 · 6 months ago

Note

I NEED MORE GYM BROS KIRISHIMA AND READER

thank you so much!! this is a fav of mine. i've had like half of this written for a whole year and lost motivation for it. picked it back up a few days ago and i'm rlly excited to post! soft end, so if anyone has suggestions for continuation, i can keep it going.

warnings. nsfw, safe sex, f! receiving oral, big fingers, sharp teeth, size kink

details. nsfw / rough sex / gymbros with benefits / aged up!kiri / fem!reader / mentions of f! masturbation / f! rec oral / clumsy kiri / aftercare, cuddling / mutual size kink / shy reader / support course student!reader / scars thirst / sharp teeth thirst / 2.8k words

🤍 scenario series. part one thru three + more here / kiri headcanons

more links. my ao3. request box is: open!

As soon as the door clicked shut, a calloused hand first draped your thigh over his other leg, then wasted no time to palm your cunt.

"Fuck," He sighed against your mouth to look down at his soaked hand.

It was totally his fault with the leg thing-- embarrassed, you pushed his hand back down and felt warm at his chuckle.

He slid his fingers under your useless panties, eliciting a very sharp, closed-mouth moan and another squirm. He locked you back into his chest.

No guy had spent so much time on you before. Kirishima seemed to get his kicks by pleasing you instead. His habit of waiting around to pull his dick out was a new concept, but you really liked it.

Still, that empty feeling in you was only heightened by his careful attention to your clit, and messy smattering of kisses over the side of your face and neck.

Your hand was already shaking on the back of his hand as he pushed his middle and ring finger into you, smooth and slow with the help of your own lubrication.

"Mmmh- Aah," You scratched on his already heavily scarred knuckles, breathless at how much bigger his fingers were than yours.

"That feel okay?"

His breath brushed by your cheek before he pressed a soft kiss to it. You gave a whimpery, 'Mhm' and completely missed his mouth when you tried to kiss him.

Thankfully, he had no problem holding you by the back of the neck to help -and to keep you still when you tried to pull away-. He lapped up every choked sound and broken phrase that left your lips.

"You're so cute," He muttered, done with keeping you hostage in more drawn-out, clumsy kisses, and pressed his forehead hard into your temple.

The compliment went straight to the tightness forming in your stomach. You squeezed around him, goosebumps formed in your skin.

"Please, just fuck me already," You struggled to get out.

Your head hit his shoulder with the focus it took to not cum around his hand.

The laughter of the man under you made your entire body shake with him. Based on his reaction, you thought he might say no, but were relieved to hear a smiley:

"Yes, ma'am."

Ma'am? He was full of funny names and habits for you.

Once again, that terrible, empty sensation came back tenfold when he took his fingers out in order to carry you over to his bed. He would've rather fucked you on the desk, but the height difference would've made it incredibly inconvenient.

Your back was still to him when he set you down. You slid your arms up so your chest was pressed on his already fucked up sheets. He hiked his shirt up to give your ass a few lovetaps but stopped all too soon.

"You just sit there, nice and pretty for me."

When he saw you poke your head up to watch him root around in his bedside table drawer, he bit the inside of his cheek and palmed a painful throb away.

The sight of a few condoms made you feel a little ashamed that it had completely slipped your mind.

You slid so you could lay on your stomach, heels locked together in the air, and watch him start to tug on his waistband, finally.

A straight-up monster bounced up from his sweatpants, so heavy it looked like it weighed itself away from where it would usually sit closer to his stomach.

You blinked at the slight bend in it and what looked like a scar underneath, then lowered your open mouth to bite your forearm.

He acted like he wasn't looking at your reaction while he plucked a condom from the drawer, but would sometimes glance and never fail to see you still gawking.

"How big is that...?" You whispered. Your eyes were starting to burn from not blinking. Maybe you should've let him stretch you out more.

Kirishima stroked his tortured cock again with a bashful smile, "I-I'm not sure, I've never measured."

You pushed yourself up onto your elbows and sat on your heels to make grabby hands at him.

"Let me hold it."

It was only right to let you feel on him, he concluded after a moment's hesitation.

He was such a beautiful man-- that was all you could think as you took his warm cock in your hands, his entire body bare before your eyes.

"You have a scar--?"

"Yeah," He choked, tummy flexing, face twisting at your slow pumps, "Yeah, it's- uh--ha, from my Quirk. I was- 13."

That must've been an insane hospital trip. It was a long scar, too. Poor thing.

You pressed a long, slow kiss to the tip, but it was cut short by his flinch away. He played it off before you could dwell on it with a replacement kiss on the mouth, instead.

He put his knee on the mattress, which brought you into the throws of your ignored ache and inspired you to hook your legs over his bulky thighs.

"Anyways, where were we--?"

Kirishima grinned through a playful groan, seizing the back of your thighs to smush into your chest instead, muffling your delighted laughter with another round of deep, albeit rushed, kisses.

His body was extraordinarily heavy; he was squeezing all of the air out of your lungs in this position.

The gasp you took when he shifted his weight off was one of immense relief- yet full of longing for him to return.

There was a smile so distracting in his crimson eyes when he looked up at you that you didn't notice the one giant arm snaked around your hip, the tongue darting out of his mouth to wet his lips, nor the hook of his fingers under your panties.

"I'll be real careful," He lulled.

Your face grew hot, your heartbeat hastened, at the brief sensation of cold air on your sex. Being the object of intense attention never did get easier, even if he had the goofiest, sharp-toothed smile plastered across his face.

A sharp pang of pleasure hit you like a brick wall. With the messy kisser he was, you should've anticipated his pussy-eating to be just as inconveniently skilled.

"Mm-m, Ah!" You bit the heel of your hand but were robbed of it almost right away.

His free hand trapped your wrist like it was nothing and you felt a smile spreading once more at your useless attempts to free it.

You settled for fixing his long hair up and out of the way, since he had absolutely no intention of helping the cause, and let him slide his rough, heavy hands onto the back of your thighs.

"Mm-mmn," You whimpered at the mercy of his tongue and resolve to get you as slippery as he possibly could, with what little patience you both had left.

He was so good that you didn't care if he'd practiced on a million other girls before you, as long as he just kept edging his tongue around your clit like that.

The man used little to no force to press your thighs up further. His big, warm palms engulfed your hamstrings like they were nothing. Your heart fluttered at the sight.

It was only embarrassing for a moment, because the way he kept lapping at you was downright sinful.

One hand slid down your thigh- you watched as he slicked up two of his middlemost fingers down to the knuckle. Given that his fingers were so long and thick, it was strangely hot watching that happen. He really did keep surprising you.

"I knew you'd taste s'fuckin sweet," He mumbled against your cunt before getting a good position with his hand and sucking at your skin once more.

An uncontrollable whine caught in your throat at the slur in his speech and how easily you took his fingers. Your thighs flexed and twitched as he pumped, nice and slow, filling you up as far as he could reach.

"Oh my- god," Your moans were just noise to you at this point- catching your breath was difficult when your body was in such a state of bliss.

He seethed with a boyish laugh against your bitten-up thigh, "You're takin' me so well- That feel good?"

No man could compare to Kirishima's methodical, yet passionate care around your pleasure.

You gasped as he slipped a third finger in- just as you got accustomed to the stretch of the other two. It's like he could feel for himself when you needed more. And he always had more.

No coherent words that could escape your mouth. He made eye contact with you that you couldn't seem to look away from. He wore a sympathetic grin, understanding that you couldn't tell him just how good you felt with just how far gone you looked.

The tension in your belly was growing all too quickly- you'd be useless if you came now.

But he was so lost in it. You had to tug pretty hard on him to get him to yield. He stalled and you finally found your breath.

"Eij- I," You gasped at his quick grin that gave way to a long, gentle kiss to your clit, "a-Ah-Ha- okay-mm, stop, sto-op-,"

He sighed and slowly earned his pruny fingers back- he made sure to lick every bit of you off of them before he rose to meet you for a tender, but still very messy, kiss.

His cock weighed heavy between you, but it felt much more achievable of a goal now.

If you weren't ready for him now, you'd never be. What was this? Like at least an hour of foreplay?

You were shaky and weak as he lined himself up with your sex after sliding on a condom.

"Let me know if it's too much-," He used his free hand to hold your face, not giving you anywhere else to stare but his attentive gaze, "I don't wanna hurt you."

It helped that you were feeling so empty prior- because as he pushed past your entrance, the realization hit you that you never felt so stretched past your limits before.

A couple taps kept you in the land of the living. You blinked slowly up at him with a bitten lip, practically drunk on the feeling of being split on his cock.

"Y'don't talk much, d'ya?" He huffed, swallowing his own pleasure to keep responsible for yours.

It goes without saying the guy couldn't bottom out without hitting your cervix- and that was a drastically different endeavor depending on the woman, so he didn't attempt it.

You didn't notice.

Lines blurred between discomfort and acute pleasure as soon as he felt you relaxed enough to stuff his thick shaft further into your tight body.

"Can't've fucked ya dumb already," He drawled with a feverish, dirty look in his eyes.

He seethed as your body responded, your thighs tightening around him, tummy stirring at the stretch and that probe of a comment.

You gave a playful grin at how he easily spread your thighs apart, his cock able to stuff you better without your unnecessary flexing.

A gasp racked you at the sensation and you leaned your head back with a whine.

He gave your hip a pinch when you kept trying to make him do it again. He was intrigued at your reactions, and more than willing to oblige with how good you were at taking him.

"Mm-mm, you've gotta open up for me, pretty girl," He lowered himself to drown you in a rough kiss.

You just couldn't catch your breath with him inside of you- like there was no room for air in your lungs when your entire body felt like it was filled with him. A sleepy smile roused at his occasional force.

Soon, with your mouth as a distraction, his pace grew to a less kind speed.

"Mmn-Ah! God-," You yelped, sounds soon to be covered by a firm, calloused hand.

"Shhh," He grinned just briefly- it was overshadowed by a grimace of intense pleasure, "A-ah, you're way too loud."

The incredulous look on his face explained that he clocked exactly how you liked to be fucked as soon as he put it in. There was a reason you went for big guys.

"nd' way too tight for me," He added with an honest groan.

He was slowly sinking into you. All 290 pounds of him. You felt lightheaded, like you were getting pounded to Cloud 9 with the most handsome, blurry face as all you could see.

The hand he used to keep you silent slipped. His hips stalled for a moment.

He asked you something but you couldn't hear it. All you gave was another whimper at his hesitation when you were just getting there. You didn't realize you had been crying until he wiped one away with the rough pad of his thumb.

You blinked away the sting.

"'M fine," You mumbled, smiling at his concern, "You jus'feel so good..."

Another surprised expression could be briefly seen in his eyes, while an excited smile still remained plastered to his jaw.

You were the little freak of his dreams. A match made in heaven.

It was the final confirmation he needed to really put his dick to good use.

Nice and pliable now, you reveled in his slick, heavy body crushing you into his mattress. His hands slid under your ass, a brutal grasp as he picked up pace and force to how you preferred.

No room to move, hardly enough air to keep you intelligible, and fucked senseless under him. Exactly how you fantasized in your own bed right after you first met him.

His grunts and groans at the mercy of your tight cunt were so clear against your ear, his forehead against the sheets.

He kept your adorable sounds muffled with his hulking shoulder in your useless bite.

"Fuck-- a-h, f-uck," A subtle, clipped whine at the end of his curse stroked your ego a bit.

One hand came up to support his weight and fist a section of hair, forcing your head to one side.

"A-h!" You whined again, but this time he smiled at it.

His bottom hand slid to one hip with a brutish squeeze as he brought you down on his cock. The grip on your scalp was electrifying and reassuring all in one.

"Feels so fucking good," He groan-laughed, "God, you--Mmn-! Got such a good pussy,"

You were swimming in the buzz of your climbing orgasm. Drunken, whimpery sounds were coming out of you, but you couldn't register them. His shaky affirmations served as stepping stones towards the strongest build-up you've had in a long, long time.

It crashed over you without more than a mere second's warning-- your nails dug deep trenches down his well-muscled back, as you came hard around his cock.

Your loud mouth was no longer muffled or of his concern other than wanting everyone in the building to hear how fucking good he made you feel.

He watched your body squirm and tremble under him in adulation; he fucked you to completion, but no more.

Tired, weak, and shaky, you had no room to respond to him pulling out of you, his lack of orgasm, or his cuddly shushing. He brought you back down gently, with no pressure, or judgement.

Your head was pressed to his oversized chest, a grounding hand scratching lightly in your hair.

A light, soft blanket over your prickly skin settled you at last. His big, puppy dog eyes met yours with enthusiasm as you peered up at him.

"You're so cool."

Somehow, that compliment stunned you the most out of all his endearing habits and sayings.

His bitten-lip smile matched your embarrassed giggle. "What're you talking about?"

"Just, aah," He showed off those pointy teeth you just couldn't get enough of. You watched them in a delightful and soft daze, "You're so-o good! I've just..."

A bashful sigh, though the graceless palm on your bruising hip didn't express such modesty, "Never been with someone who... could..."

He trailed off. It could've meant many things.

He was a master at keeping his experiences vague, though you could tell it wasn't intentional.

The softness behind his lashes, the speed in which he let up on your hip at your subtle wince, and the hesitancy that characterized him this whole night helped you understand.

The partners he must've been with before-- he probably hurt them. Badly enough to carry that guilt with him to now.

"You made it easy," You slid up to give him a peck on his stubbly chin. "You...take good care of me."

Your body raised as his chest swelled with pride. It threw you a bit off balance, so you slid to lay yourself on top of him, slow and steady. The comfort of his big, warm body was unparalleled.

"We're," Kirishima's rumbly voice tugged you out of a light slumber, "Totally dating now, right?"

His voice didn't sound entirely sure.

You chuckled and rubbed an eye, "Mmm, you still--," A big yawn made him giggle, "Gotta take me to dinner."

He squished a big kiss to the top of your head. Hulking arms linked back over you for extra warmth to let you sleep a while longer.

taglist:

@dough-yo-bu @yellowflowerbub @fairywriter-oracle @kirismoon

@kwiwin @cringingmemeries @leo6472 @nijha2tact @lotusstarr @straows

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bluesidez · 5 months ago

Text

Firefighter!Miguel Part 3

content warning: fluff, some mentions of Christianity because a lot of southern grandmothers are Christian (it shouldn't be anything that makes non-Christians uncomfy)

word count: 1.5k, not proofread

Prev | Next ‧₊˚ ⋅ 𓐐𓎩 ‧₊˚ ⋅𓌉◯𓇋 Masterlist

Firefighter!Miguel who listens with a skeptical face as the trio of teenagers in front of him explain how their car ended up upside down in a lake.

“We saw a squirrel and we couldn’t just hit it, that’s inhumane!”

“So, you roll your car down a ramp instead?”

The trio stare at him with building panic.

“There’s not a single scratch or bruise on any of you.”

It takes about ten seconds of empty space before one of them crumbles to the ground in faux pain.

“I-I can still feel the sunroof on my head!”

“And you’re grabbing your stomach to show that."

The three of them stared at each other for a second, then one of them starts to cry, "We didn't mean it!"

"We're sorry!"

"I told them to just drive over a bump, they didn't listen!"

They started to crowd Miguel, each telling a different story. Miguel didn't believe a single one of them but their dedication to this bit was admirable.

"Ok. Let's get your parents on the phone," Miguel's voice demanded attention. "The totaled car is enough of a lesson, but I'm sure none of your names are on this vehicle."

The boy in the middle curses and runs his hand through his hair, "My dad's going to kill me."

"I would hope they'd be more happy that you're alive," Jess came up next to Miguel with a helmet under her arm. Her slicked-back hair has started to frizz up from the sheer amount of work it took to get a car full of water back on the ground. "If you all didn't think fast enough, there's no guarantee that we would have made it here in time to rescue you."

Firefighter!Miguel who tried his best to calm down the worried parents.

Yes, their children were ok. No, no one was hurt. Yes, with the right insurance totaled cars can be covered. No, he's not sure how the car ended up upside down. Yes, firefighters do these rescues regularly.

No, he was not giving out his number.

"What did I say about that face?" Jess sang as she sat in the passenger seat of the truck.

"Just because you say it, doesn't mean I want it to happen."

"Maybe you should get a ring. That poor mother looked so hurt when you rejected her."

"A ring doesn't stop wandering eyes or hands," Miguel gripped the steering wheel tighter.

Jess sighs, "True. That's not stopping you from staring at your phone like a sad seal while we're waiting on calls."

Miguel tried his best not to let his shoulders slump. He was a captain, not one of those reckless teenagers, "You think I did something wrong? It's been a few days."

"Maybe they think you're busy? Maybe they're nervous. Maybe they're busy. I'm sure you'll get a text soon."

Firefighter!Miguel who jolts from his sleepy daze at every notification from his phone. The 24-hour shifts can be grueling.

One glance at his phone showed some magazine emails and the reminder of a show he was excited to see.

Firefighter!Miguel who finally gets your text message on the way to his car.

You wanted to take him up on the offer of stopping by your house to check out the gas line.

His sleepy state gained a new jolt of energy and he was able to utilize it to tap along to the radio all the way home.

"When you add this, he'll never even think about finding someone else."

"Is that so?" You laughed as you listened to your grandma explain her secrets of keeping a man. Even if you found it a little funny, borderline ridiculous, and extremely outdated, you knew she was dead serious. "And how do you get the man?"

Your grandma paused and smiled, "Are you sure you're ready to hear that?"

"If you're laying out all of your secrets, I might as well!"

Your conversation was interrupted by a knock and the ring of a doorbell.

"Well, looka here!"

You can hear the glee in your grandmother's voice as she opens the door.

"Look what the Lord brought me," she comes back to the kitchen with her arm wrapped around Miguel's arm. She's smiling brighter than ever. "And he had enough sense to bring back my good dish. Won't He do it?"

"Of course, I had to bring it back. How else could I thank you both and ask for some more at the same time?"

Miguel looked funny in your childhood home. A little out of place. Though when he opened his mouth it was like everything seemed right. He looked even funnier out of uniform. The joggers were doing something for you.

"You ready?"

You blinked a couple of times, coming back to Earth and steadying your wandering mind.

"Ready for...?"

"My poor child," your grandma grumbled to herself. "He came to go check on the house. Remember?"

"Oh! Yes, yes. Of course! Let's go."

As you made your way to the door, your grandma made sure to pull you back.

"And remember what I told you, ok? You just need a dash of it."

"Grandma there won't be any cooking until I get my gas line fixed."

"I don't mean the cooking, child, I mean the-"

You coughed loudly to cover her growing voice. The older she got the more her brain-to-mouth filter faded away.

"I got it, grandma."

You were sure she was going to say something about a bedroom technique, but Miguel was probably standing closer to you both than your grandma thought.

He didn't need to know whatever your grandma was trying to say.

Firefighter!Miguel who was happy to have someone that truly piqued his interest after so long.

Some of his hookups were either growing too attached or getting too ballsy, stepping over several boundaries. The last girl he dated was in it for all of the wrong reasons, and the woman before that sunk him so low he never knew he could bounce back.

He told himself he wouldn't try to date any of the people he saved, but life was growing longer and he wasn't getting any younger. Plus, you did look really lovely in your patterned pajama pants and flour in places they shouldn't be.

Something about your struck a match against him.

Firefighter!Miguel who walked into your house with a calmer state than the last.

There was a blue tarp plastered over the hole in your home and some debris left over from the accident.

"Sorry for the mess," your voice was quiet enough that he had to hone in on it.

"I've seen worse."

You look back at him with shock then laugh when you see the silly grin on his face.

He walked deeper into the kitchen with his hands in his pockets, "It's not too terrible. I actually went ahead and called the gas company because something like this needs to be solved immediately."

Your eyebrows raise, "So is it already fixed then?"

"Took them about a day, but yeah. Now we just need to focus on getting the rest of this worked out."

"Thank you, truly," you smile up at him as you shift your weight. "Well, I guess I should do something else then, huh? I don't want to waste too much more of your time.

He was off work. "I don't mind. Glad to help in any way I can."

"Do you know how long the repairs might take?"

Miguel clicks his teeth repeatedly, "From about a week to a couple of months. From what I see, you should probably grab a few weeks of clothes."

"Roger that, Captain," you salute him as you turn to go to your room.

Miguel quelled the tiny spark that those words brought to him.

Firefighter!Miguel who watches you kick something out of the way when you enter your room.

He caught a flash of purple as you turned the lights on, but whatever it was under your bed in one swift motion.

Firefighter!Miguel who leans against the doorway as you bend deep to pull out more clothes.

Why you didn't grab things that were already on hangers, he wasn't sure, but he wasn't upset at the view at all.

Firefighter!Miguel who wanted to see you again, so he invited you to the annual charity car wash that his unit gave.

"We wash cars for a decent price, sell some goodies, and we take some pictures for the firefighter calendar."

He saw your eyes light up at those words, "I think I would love to see that."

"And I would love to have you there."

"Would you, now? Should I invite more people?"

"Yeah, for charity. I think I'm mostly going to be happy to see you."

Miguel picked a bin full of your clothes up and walked them through the door to his car, not really ready to process whatever look you might have on your face.

He may have nearly slammed his hand into the door with how fast he was moving, but he hopes that he can see you again soon.

divider by: @gigittamic + @/benkeibear (Idk if you'll see this, but I hope you're doing alright!!!) ❤️‍🔥

a/n: It's so late and I definitely have work tomorrow but here I am because I have no self control.

If you want to be added to the taglist, sign up here!

taglist: @snails-doodles22 @xerorizz @questionable-behaviour @babygotl01292003

@slushycoookie @calig0sto @ghost-lantern @tatatida @haveclayeveryday

@corpsenightmarebride @samjinxx @earth2fae @maiyart @feegrh32 @jellyamour

@darkstalight82 @ladysimp @vampwin @vmpz8sauceee @sonicbutbutter

@leonsbimbogf @unwrittenletter @maxlinpetersen @beyondstarlight @madeofstar-dust

@leoeloo @just-simpins-blog @poisamm @thequeenreaders @tinybirdhidedout

@aly29a2001 @snakelore @tojishugetiddies @pigeonmama @darkstalight82

@prettygirleli @koikohib @jayskookies

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undead-supernova · 7 months ago

Text

Bullshit! / Masterlist / 18+

part 1 / part 3

Playlist

pairing: Eddie Munson x fem!reader

plot: eddie runs into you unexpectedly and you think it's time to have that date a little early

contains: eddie lacking confidence, confident!reader, get to know Eddie and the reader a little better, making out, kids this is a bit more than pg-13 I'll tell you that much without spoiling it

note: sorry guys, I'm not done with this. maybe far from it. they have a dynamic unlike any other and I'm here for it.

wc: 4k

The library was maybe the last place Eddie wanted to be at one in the afternoon on a Tuesday. It was always overcrowded, riddled with students running around with coffee from the adjoining Starbucks.

But Eddie needed a new book, having told himself that rereading The Hobbit the third time this semester was…unnecessary. Plus, his English professor told him that “we can only enact change ourselves.”

Maybe it was a sign. Because as Eddie passed the large glass windows, he saw you sitting at one of the booths.

You looked different from every Saturday night. No makeup, hardly any jewelry except for a thin gold necklace and several rings. An oversized sweatshirt and, from his vantage point, you were wearing a pleated skirt. He even noticed that your high-top Converse were placed next to you, mismatched patterned socks adorning your feet.

And, fuck, Eddie couldn’t help the excitement rising inside him. It should’ve embarrassed him when he started jogging towards the front door, but he couldn’t find it in him to care. All he could think about was the sound of your voice and your eyes and your touch and your kiss.

He slowed his pace as he walked past the printers and computers and found your head down in some textbook, blissfully unaware.

“Working hard or hardly working?” he asked.

And when you looked up and smiled, he could’ve sworn his heart swelled and burst like a goddamn balloon.

“Oh my gosh, hi!” you exclaimed, jumping up to give him a hug. “What the fuck are you doing here!”

It was only for a few seconds, but he couldn’t resist breathing in your intoxicating perfume and memorizing the feel of you. The curve of your back, the soft fabric of your sweatshirt scratching against his calloused fingertips.

And as you sat back down, he realized quickly why your mere touch was so alluring. It was a reminder that Saturday had been real and, on this grueling Tuesday, you still cared about his existence. You still noticed him.

“I was coming to look for something new to read,” he answered, trying to figure out what to do with his hands and failing. “What about you?”

Eddie couldn’t decipher your now raised eyebrow, watching as you lifted your pointer finger. “Sit down,” you nearly demanded, eyes flickering from him to the booth. His heart hammered in his chest as he complied, eyeing your finger following his movements.

It was despicable how easy it was for you to get him to do whatever you wanted. Even just fucking sitting down. But he loved it. Every. Fucking. Second.

“I was in the stacks looking at the archives,” you explained. “But everyone in my class took them already.” You sighed, rolling your eyes. “Such bitches.”

“How rude,” Eddie said, all teasing with an amused smile.

He could tell you liked it, biting your lip slightly before playing along. “I know, it’s offensive.”

There was something he noticed in your expression, placing your lip back between your teeth as you scanned him up and down. Eddie was unable to keep a smile off his face, overwhelmed by the attention you gave him. Like he was a meal, but something to be savored rather than merely devoured.

He couldn’t help it when he returned the sentiment, glancing down at your skirt that was riding further and further up your thighs. It wasn’t the time to think about you like that, spread wide for him as he got on all fours. Having you barking commands at him to do it properly, rewarding him with endless praise once you deemed it good enough.

Your thighs parted just a bit more, head tilting to the side as you gave him a smirk. As if you knew exactly where his thoughts were and wanted him to keep going. And, wow, were you two really just eye-fucking each other in the library?

“Want some coffee?” he asked, trying to distract himself. Practically flinching, pulling himself back from the table. “I was gonna head to Starbucks afterwards.”

The sexual tension broke at the question and he watched as you fiddled with your pen. But you didn’t flounder like he did. He wondered if you ever could.

“Yeah, I’d love to. I have to finish something up but—”

“Oh, I’ll go by myself,” he offered.

“You sure?” you asked, clearly surprised.

“Yeah, no biggie,” he assured you, standing up.

Expression turning a bit sheepish, you said, “I will warn you… My order is complicated.”

He shrugged. “Hit me.”

And the order wasn’t complicated, per se. Eddie just wanted to know how the hell had you come up with a “dirty iced chai with oat milk and two pumps of cinnamon dolce”. Regardless, Eddie tucked that into his Notes app for later. If there was a later.

After grabbing himself a large black coffee and the concoction you'd asked for, he made his way back over to you. Rounding the corner, he noticed the way you moved back and forth between a book and your laptop, sighing and mumbling something to yourself. But as if you could sense him, you turned and watched him approach, a smile appearing on your lips.

“Oh, a Venti, huh?” you teased, making grabbing motions at him anyways.

He shrugged, sitting back down. “You deserve it.”

“You know what? You’re right.” You took it from his hand, taking a long sip. “I hate Starbucks coffee,” you said, licking your lips. “It’s awful. But this is the best thing on the menu, so thank you.”

“Yeah, of course.” Eddie hoped you couldn’t see him blush. "I hate it, too. It's just the only thing we got."

“God, I know. Also, I can Venmo you or—"

“Absolutely not,” he interrupted, waving you away.

“Okay,” you conceded, not bothering to argue further. Just took another sip and sat back. Glanced out the window before back at him. “Wanna go on that date today?”

“Today?” he asked, nearly gobsmacked.

Nervousness ran along his limbs, not fully prepared to be with you. Alone. Just the two of you. It’d taken him hours to go to bed after dropping you off the other night. Any time he thought he was done masturbating, it just came with another round. Like a goddamn creep.

“Why not?”

“Aren’t you doing research?” he asked, feeling his face grow hot.

And if you noticed, you didn’t say anything about it.

“Oh my god, I would rather die than look at this shit any longer. I’ve been here since eight.” You paused before throwing a hand over your face. “Unless you’re busy. Sorry I didn’t ask first.”

“No, no. I’m free,” he lied, deciding at that moment to skip his class. He’d catch up on Algebra with his tutor—it’s not like he paid attention anyways. That damn tutor was the only reason he understood a fraction of it. Pun absolutely intended.

And he swore you nearly jumped up, grabbing your shoes and shoving them on before packing up your backpack, the weight of it starting to look daunting. Book after book, plus your laptop and pencil case and…

Without thought, Eddie grabbed it for you, slinging it over his shoulder. Fuck, it was heavy. “Here, I got it.”

You stared up at him, clearly shocked. “Oh, you sure?”

But Eddie gave you a smile and gestured towards the window with his head. “Yeah, come on. I’ll drive.”

By all accounts, Eddie was actually…sweet. It was nearly sickening how sweet he could be, carrying your backpack for you and opening the car door (despite it being a stalker van). Asking what music you liked to listen to—everything, was the answer. And you didn’t just like every genre, you loved it— Fiddling with the air conditioning and telling you to change it if you get too hot or too cold. Asking if his music was too loud, asking how you were doing now, away from your books.

You were starting to find him ridiculously intriguing, unsure how to take his kindness. It wasn’t a bad thing by any means. You just…weren’t used to a man being so considerate of your feelings.

It wasn’t like you didn’t think you deserved it—that was obvious every time a man got a little too close for comfort and you had to humiliate them.

But there was just something that felt new about Eddie. When he’d approached you at the party, you sized him up like every other guy shooting their shot. But he caught your eye immediately when he stumbled over his words. And when a jolt seized your veins at that first touch on his arm, you knew you were hooked.

You’d gone to bed that night with a smile on your face, softly licking along your lips to savor the lingering taste of Eddie’s mouth. It was tinged with beer, something you used to hate. Something you now loved, thoughts echoing one word:

New.

Eddie helped you out of the car once he’d parked, even insisting that you let him get it for you. It made you feel quite warm in the face, surprised by his assertion. Made you feel like a lady, something you hadn’t ever felt at the hands of a man.

As you moved through the museum, you were quiet, whispering now and then about certain art styles and their importance during their corresponding time periods. And you were glad that Eddie wasn’t a douchebag about noise level inside a museum.

He never interrupted, never poked fun at your intelligence. He’d even asked more questions, all hushed and contained, some even you didn’t know the answer to. Pocketing them for later to ask your professors.

But Eddie rarely gave up any information about himself, leaving you to tap his foot with yours and ask him questions. Every time, his face got hot and he murmured responses with a shrug, as if he didn’t think it was anything special.

How was it not? He was still undecided, having dreams of working on video games and helping direct the narratives in new and innovative ways to engage with the player more. You didn’t know much about video games, but you still listened. Still gave him the attention he’d given you. It wasn’t even hard—he was so animated once he got into something he was passionate about. It was endearing, actually.

You ended up sitting down on one of the benches together, staring at an abstract painting by an artist you’d never heard of.

“Do you like abstract?” you asked him, whispering despite the empty room.

Eddie shrugged, eyes trained on the swirling colors. “I think so? I mean, it’s cool to look at. I just don’t really know what I’m looking for. Or what I’m looking at, for that matter.”

That brought a smile to your face. His statement wasn’t judgmental or dismissive. It was…pensive. Contemplative.

“I think of it like music,” you said. “The different colors and movements are like different instruments. They’re all separate but they come together to make something magical.”

For emphasis, you leaned in closer to him, your face and shoulder fully pressed against him. Raised your arm to point at the sharp flicks of red hurling towards the top right of the canvas. You could’ve sworn you heard Eddie suck in a breath, having to suppress a smirk at the effect you had over him.

“That’s like a trumpet, bright and loud. Furious in nature but soaring off the page.” Then you pointed toward the royal blue splatters, more round than some of the other scattered pigments. “And this is like, oh, I don’t know. I guess, a trombone. Low and sultry. Rounded. Keeping everything together.”

Eddie turned his head, your noses nearly touching. You couldn’t help the shiver running down your neck at the tickling sensation you got from his hair. A smile you hadn’t seen before enveloped his face as you made eye contact.

“So, you’re saying it’s like jazz.”

A breathy laugh left your lips, finding yourself intimidated by his pointed gaze. By the way you could study the rich brown in his eyes, all bright and energized despite his calm demeanor. The stubble rising from his pores, all scratchy and wicked.

“Well, uh,” you murmured, surprised by your inability to form words. “It doesn’t have to be, but, um, I guess this one made me think of jazz. The way it kinda…” your voice trailed off as he seemingly leaned in further, his scent like smoke fogging your senses. “It’s not so rigid. It’s improv. It’s, um…”

“Varied?” he offered, his smile growing. “Unique?”

You nodded. “Yeah.”

Eddie let out a hum. “I think I get it now.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. It’s beautiful.”

For once, you had to look away, back at the painting to try and control your breathing. There were flashes of things you wanted to do, both tender and wildly too inappropriate for the setting. Things you wanted beyond physicality, beyond the limits you’d always set for yourself.

And as if he could hear the pounding of your heart, his fingertips touched yours. Slowly weaved his fingers through the spaces left open. Took a piece of your heart with him.

Eddie might not be exactly forward with his actions, but he knew what he wanted. All you could do was squeeze his hand and hope that one day you’d get to see him in full bloom.

“Why do you do that thing?” you asked.

Eddie glanced over at you, one hand on the steering wheel. The other fiddled with a hole in his pants, needing something to grasp onto. His heart rate just started to slow down, giving him a chance to breathe.

There was just something about you that drove him mad.

“What thing?”

“Act like you’re not interesting.”

Sheepishly, Eddie shrugged. “I mean, I don’t know. I guess it’s ‘cause you’re way more interesting than me.”

“Bullshit,” you said sternly, a scoff leaving your lips.

“What!” he exclaimed, looking over at you again. “It’s true.”

You shook your head, crossing your arms over your chest. “You highly underestimate yourself.”

Eddie snorted. “I’m a stereotype.”

“Bullshit,” you repeated, starting to sound genuinely frustrated. “Who the hell told you that?”

He didn’t know where to start.

Being a loser wasn’t a big deal for him in high school. Grew up with his father’s reputation preceding him. Got through it the best he could with some awesome friends along the way. Finally graduated high school and raised his GPA enough to come here. It was simple. In his mind, he was simple.

But spending the latter half of summer, the one he dared never to speak of, without his friends and then coming here without anyone else… Well, he struggled to find anyone willing to be his friend. He tried. Really, he did. But it never came to fruition.

And what was more embarrassing than joining a D&D club before being told he didn’t belong within the first hour? Him, the DM of Hawkins, hell, Indiana, being told he didn’t belong. That he didn’t play right. That he just didn’t fit.

He spent so much time alone. It was starting to make him miss Hawkins, the nostalgia starting to kick in. Hawkins, the place he loathed. The place he wanted nothing to do with.

He was a nineteen-year-old Freshman with no friends and an undecided future.

His silence must’ve lasted longer than he thought because you pointed at the nearly empty Walmart parking lot and asked, “Actually, would you pull in for a sec?”

“Yeah, of course,” he responded, heading towards the very back row, far from any remaining cars. Giving the two of you privacy just in case you started to yell at him for being a loser or something. He didn’t know. You were just so unpredictable.

But once he parked, you were unbuckling your seatbelt and grabbing his chin. Squished the bottom of his cheeks in one hand as you pulled his face closer to yours. He must’ve stopped breathing, hands slipping from the steering wheel.

“You better start listening to me, Eddie,” you breathed, all low and sensual, moving your lips to barely graze his bottom lip. “I really don’t like you talking about yourself like that.”

Eddie could feel sweat collecting beneath his bangs as you continued your torture, raking your fingernails down his throat before wrapping your hand around it. He gasped, earning a small smile out of you.

“I don’t waste my time with boring people, as conceited as that sounds,” you continued, the left corner of your mouth lifting. Eyes flickering between his eyes and his lips, eyelashes fluttering with each micromovement. “But I never claimed to be the nicest person, did I?” Eddie still wouldn’t speak. He didn’t know if he could without moaning. “You’re one of the most interesting people I’ve met. And the nicest, which is probably more than I deserve. You’ve seen the way I treat other men.”

“They deserved it,” he whispered, feeling his cock twitch when your grip tightened. “Every one of them.”

“Yeah, they did,” you replied, raising the pitch of your voice. Like you were taunting him. “But you’re different, aren’t you?”

“I-I am?”

“You’re sweet,” you breathed, giving slow kisses to his cheeks. Giggling when you noticed the blood rushing into them so rapidly. “And you’re a real nice guy, you know that?”

“I, uh, I try to be,” he stumbled as you moved your lips past his jaw and against his ear. Went limp at the feeling of you biting the lobe, fanning your breath over it.

“You do such an excellent job,” you whispered. “So nice and kind and funny. You really get me going, Eddie. I didn’t think I’d be so affected by you.”

When you pulled back to face him, you chuckled. He couldn’t blame you. His eyes must’ve been popping out of his head, mouth agape at your pretty words. What was even more fucked up was how genuine you sounded, like you weren’t just saying these things to say them. You meant it.

“I thought about you a lot this weekend,” you said breathily, removing your hand from his neck to start coiling his hair around your finger.

“Me?”

“You,” you said with a nod.

He licked his lips. “W-what about me?”

“About how interesting you are. And not to get too vulgar,” you said with a giggle, all teasing and devilish. “But I couldn’t help but think about taking your cock down my throat.” Another giggle as you tapped your fingers along his collarbone. “Thought about what it looks like, if it’s half as pretty as you.”

Eddie couldn’t stop the way his cock strained against his jeans, the neverending praise overwhelming him. “T-thank you,” he responded, unable to suppress the whine that he’d tried to contain when your other hand began palming him over his jeans.

“You, um,” he tried to continue, taking a deep breath through his nose to keep his composure. “I-if you want, you can. Anytime. Any time.”

“It’d be so easy like this, you know,” you nearly purred. “To ride you, to leave you a blubbering mess and thanking me for taking care of you. I think you’d really, really like that.”

“You’re killing me, sweetheart,” he groaned, fingers now reaching out to white-knuckle the steering wheel.

“Am I wrong?”

A tiny scoff left his lips as you nearly massaged his cock, knowing that if you didn’t stop soon, he was going to burst. “You already know the answer to that.”

“I want to hear it, Eddie.” You nipped his neck, causing him to jump a little. But you wouldn’t stop, whispering filthy words as you continued to mark him. “I want to hear you tell me how good it would feel for me to suck you dry.” He continued to nod, each word sending him further into the deep end. “Before getting you hard again, just ‘cause I can, and getting on top so I can milk you with my pussy.” He moaned at your vulgarity. “Which is dripping, by the way.”

Without any warning, Eddie was cumming, an explosive rush that had him twitching and jerking. Panting and dry mouthed. You didn’t remove your hand, merely chuckling and rubbing him through his jeans until he was able to breathe normally again.

Before Eddie could get the chance to apologize for his behavior, you were pulling him in with an agonizingly slow kiss, your fingers damp from the cum seeping through his jeans.

You tugged at his lower lip with your teeth before letting out a hum. Gazed up into his puppy dog eyes and said, “Good boy.”

After a few moments of Eddie being able to think clearly again, you found your eyes wandering around his console before settling on a pack of cigarettes.

“You smoke?” you asked, plucking them from the cupholder and shaking the box in front of his face.

He nodded, seemingly quiet despite what transpired. “Want one?”

“Absolutely,” you responded, quick to take two out and hand one over. Watched him roll the windows down. Even went so far as to light both cigarettes for you like a gentleman.

You knew he was still coming down from that high. It wasn’t like you could judge when the wetness collecting between your thighs was probably staining the carseat. It took everything in you not to beg him to take you right then and there. But you were a lady (of sorts) and as a lady, you were content with saving yourself for another day.

Besides, it was nice to see him so calm now. Like a weight had been lifted, if only for a moment. It was still a moment.

“Post-nut clarity cigarette,” you joked, taking a slow drag and glancing out at the afternoon sun.

“Was that…not embarrassing?”

That was when you realized what was happening.

“Are you kidding me? That was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen,” you said truthfully.

“I’m sure it’s totally hot,” he said sarcastically, rolling his eyes.

Ah, yes. You supposed it was embarrassing for a guy to have creamed his pants without so much as a kiss. But that didn’t bother you at all. You knew it would be different once you were alone, edging him until he was begging you for more. Nothing would make you happier.

You ignored him. “You know, if you want us to go any further, you’re gonna have to earn it,” you said plainly, checking over your nails to make sure the paint hadn’t chipped too bad.

“How?”

“Once you learn to be nice to yourself.” You shrugged before glancing back over at his wide-eyed expression. “I know there’s something more to you than what you think of yourself. I saw it at the party and I’m seeing it now. You just have to see that, Eddie. That’s really all there is to it.”

Eddie’s lips seemed to form a pout before he took a few hearty puffs, the smoke billowing around you. Looked around. Looked down at his lap. Looked back up at you. Mumbled, “So I can’t, like, go down on you right now?”

A laugh surged out of you so quickly that you started coughing. You waved him away when his concern sounded, ending up laughing harder before you could contain yourself.

“As much as I’d love to give you the privilege of eating me out right now, I think it’s best to wait until you’ve shown some improvement.”

“So there’s a chance?” he asked.

You leaned back in towards his face, opening his mouth with your thumb. Taking another drag, you put your lips to his and blew the smoke into his mouth. Felt him breathe it in before letting it out through his nose.

You smirked. “If you’re desperate for a piece of me, you could always lap up what I left behind on your car seat.”

He groaned, taking a deep breath while rolling his eyes. “God, you’re a fucking menace.”

“Honey, you haven’t seen anything yet.”

as per usual, thanks to @strangergraphics for letting me use her dividers and looking over my work hehehe

#Eddie munson x reader #eddie munson/reader #Eddie munson x you #Eddie munson/you #Eddie x you #Eddie x reader #eddie munson one shot #eddie munson x y/n #Eddie Munson x fem!reader #eddie munson fanfic #Eddie Munson smut #boring! series

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