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writingouthere · 11 months ago

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singlemom!reader x neighbor!sukuna. you miss having a baby and Sukuna is dying from a combination of your sexual tension, his lowkey(highkey) baby fever and the drudgery of attending a child's birthday party

cw: Sukuna's breeding kink, red flags are present and accounted for, no one gets laid tho so sad face. this actually ended up being way more sincere and heartfelt than I intended but honestly very typical of me

"Oh we're not together, Sukuna's just been letting me and Bug crash while we look for an apartment."

"Oh he's not my boyfriend, we're just friends!"

"He's actually not Bug's dad. No, no. But, they get along really well. She enjoys having someone else to hang out with aside from me, I think."

Your laughter after the last one plays on repeat as he goes to grab the two of you some refreshments. Sukuna feels like he's living the world's worst version of groundhog day, except instead of being some sad loser who relives the same day over and over, he's apparently a sad loser who is going to live the same conversation over and over again.

"Fuck this shit."

"Um, excuse me but could you watch your language. This is a kid's birthday party." Sukuna wants to ask the bitch who is correcting a grown man's language if he would mind watching his own fucking business but you seem to care about what these losers think and he won't make life difficult for you.

If he happens to step on the guy's foot as he leaves with two cups and a juice box caught in his elbow, well, his steel toed boots need the exercise.

Sukuna knew that if any of his acquaintances, he didn't have friends after all, could see him now, they would die laughing. Die ,because he would kill them for laughing, but fuck he couldn't even really blame them, even in his hypothetical.

Once upon a time, Sukuna was a feared criminal. People pissed themselves when he cornered them in a dark alley. Other bad guys would look at him and say, "wow that guy's a real piece of shit" and now look at him. Stuck at some three year old's birthday party. One more kidzpop butchering of an already shitty song away from committing another felony.

Maybe it wouldn't be so bad if he knew he was at least getting some pussy out of it, but he had just spent the past two hours hearing you deny him to anyone who asked and it was really starting to get to him.

He knew he was being a little bitch about it, and he wasn't upset just because you weren't fucking him. He was upset that all the things you were telling people, they were technically true. He was just letting you and your daughter crash. He was just your friend, not your boyfriend. Even the comments about him not being Bug's dad, but him being positioned as some kind of really invested babysitter, those might have stung more than the ones about your relationship but you thought that was true too.

Thinking about the kid made him look for her, not that Sukuna ever wasn't aware of where you and your daughter were. It had become instinct before he was even aware of it.

Bug was laughing with some kids he recognized from daycare and others from their regular trips to the park. Her happiness was contagious and Sukuna found his lips twitching up at the ends despite his shitty mood.

Your daughter's eyes found him from across the playground. "kuna!" she called, waving her little hand at him. He waved back with his available hand and made his way towards her. She met him halfway, her little legs unsteady on the wood chips but she didn't seem to notice. She was always like that when she saw him, she ran fearlessly. Maybe she just trusted he'd catch her.

Was it so wrong of him that he didn't like the reminders she wasn't his. That it stung, not just because of his feelings but because it just couldn't be true. He might not have fathered her, but fuck anyone who said this little girl wasn't his.

"I got you a juice, you've been running around so much you gotta be thirsty."

"Not thirsty," Bug argued leaning into him. He held up his hands that were holding the grown up drinks for the two of you, and moved the package still lodged in the crease of his elbow towards the petulant toddler. "Take it, or I'll drink it."

Bug stuck her tongue out at him and grabbed it. She struggled to get the wrapping off the straw and Sukuna didn't even notice what he was doing until she had the straw stretched out towards him and he was pulling the wrapper off with his teeth. He spit it out on the ground as your daughter gave him a polite thank-you and then walked away, sipping her juice as she went to catch up with her friends.

What had become of him?

"Need a hand?" You smile at him and Sukuna hands over your cup before taking a sip of his own. There was unfortunately no alcohol in it but drinking it occupied his mouth before he acted like a pussy and asked you, "what are we?" or "should we get married?" or something equally as pathetic.

"God, I want a baby."

Sukuna almost spit out his drink but he manages to tone it down to just a little cough before turning to look at you. You don't even seem a little embarrassed which is just infuriating. Sukuna's about to make a suggestion on how he can help with that when you sigh and point to where some loser is holding their ugly baby.

"Aren't babies just the cutest, I miss when Bug was that age."

Oh, so this was just you looking at other people's red-faced brats and feeling nostalgic and was not in fact a call to action. Sukuna rolled his eyes and leaned back on the hand closest to you so he didn't touch you as he was so tempted to do these days.

"That baby, like all babies, is hideous. All they do is cry, shit themselves and vomit and I'm not even sure Bug is the exception to that and she's the best kid there is."

You look touched at his affection for your daughter but also fired up on behalf of babies everywhere.

"You can't just say a baby is hideous, Sukuna. Those are the Zenin's. Bug is friends with some of them."

"Well are the older ones cuter, because that baby looks like someone fucked one of those hairless cats."

"Sukuna!" you hiss but he sees you smile, despite yourself. "Okay, maybe that baby isn't like the cutest baby-"

"Hideous."

You continue after smacking his arm. "But Bug was cute, okay. And I'm not just saying that because I'm her mom." You take out your phone and quickly swipe until you get to what you're looking for. "See, cute baby."

Sukuna grabs your phone and looks. It's not the first picture he's seen of a young Bug and he's taken his share of photos of her himself, but he finds himself taken in by it anyway.

It has to be a picture from when Bug was really young, she still had the scrunched up, red face that he associates with newborns. But he thinks you're right, she's still cute. He doesn't know if it's because he knows that baby will grow up to be your daughter, but he finds his thumb caressing her little baby cheeks, the wisps of hair he can see peaking out from where she's wrapped in a baby blanket. It's then he sees she's not alone in the picture and there's a different version of you holding her.

The thing that stands out to him is how tired you look. He thinks this couldn't have been too long after you gave birth but still, he wondered if you'd gotten any rest those first few months. You still didn't like talking about your ex, or the circumstances that had led you to his apartment, but Sukuna knew that chances are you were taking care of Bug single handedly and that couldn't have been easy, cutest kid or not.

"She was beautiful, she still is." He reluctantly hands the phone back to you and you look at the picture again, tears building up in your eyes.

"She is the best thing that has ever happened to me. I-I wish that the circumstances were different in how I got her. Sometimes, I wonder how I'll explain everything to her when she's older. She just deserves so much better than him, you know?"

"You both do." Sukuna reaches over and brushes away one of the tears that had managed to fall down your cheek. He leaves his hand there a moment, holding your cheek in his palm, just appreciating the warmth.

"Do you want any?"

"What?" Sukuna isn't sure what you're talking about anymore. He can only see your lips right in front of him, the way that your eyelashes brush against your cheek as you blink faster and faster.

"Babies, do you want any?"

Something short circuits in Sukuna's brain and he wants to say, fuck yes.

He wants to tell you that he thinks about it every day. Every time you put Bug on your hip or send him youtube videos of hairstyles you want to try on her. Whenever it's late at night, and little feet pad out of your room and Bug asks him in the loudest whisper he's ever heard, if he can get her some water because she's so thirsty.

He thinks about it when the sun streams through the curtains of his apartment in the morning and it lights up your hair as you move throughout the kitchen, a force of nature, a creature from somewhere far too good to have ended up here with him.

He thinks about it when the three of you go out and people just assume you're a family, because of course you're a family. When you and Bug play some made up game, or Bug gets tired even though she denies it and he carries her sleeping form against his chest. When he holds her in his lap on the subway and you lean to rest your head on his shoulder and he feels like this, this is what he's always wanted.

He's not all pure and good though, because he thinks about it late at night in his bedroom too. After a day of your smiles, of seeing your thighs stretch out of those sleep shorts you started wearing when the weather warmed up, whenever he remembers the feel and smell of your panties when he's lucky enough to find a pair in the laundry basket, he thinks about how the two of you would make some really cute fucking babies.

He's imagined it a million ways. He's imagined you telling him you've gone off your birth control and you need him now after he takes you out on an anniversary dinner. Or him crowding you up against the kitchen counter and you begging him to put a baby in you.

His favorite fantasy is currently one where you get so carried away when you finally finally fuck that you don't ask him to wear a condom and he spends the whole night making sure you're nice and good and full of him and when you tell him a few weeks later you missed your period, he'll let you freak out. But then he'll tell you that he'll take good care of you, and Bug, and your soon to be little one and he'll finally have you, all of you and once you have your second, he'll knock you up again, as many times as he can because there could never be too many mini-you's running around.

At this point, Sukuna remembers he's talking to you, the real you and he swallows a few times before he speaks.

"I do," he says simply but something must show on his face because you're looking at him in a way you never have before. He hears your breath hitch and he leans in to kiss you, and you smell so good and his thoughts are consumed by the little family he just knows you're going to have when suddenly he's pelted by a variety of sharp, little objects.

Sukuna immediately holds up his arm to shield you from what he now sees is a barrage of wood chips which are being thrown at you by an army of toddlers, including your daughter.

You immediately get up and start talking to the kids about the danger of throwing what are basically large future splinters at people's faces and Sukuna is contemplating the murder of every child that isn't his own when you turn to look at him.

You're not just looking at him, you're seeing him and oh. Maybe he would be getting laid tonight, after all.

The slow burn is almost done folks.

thank you to the amazing reception to this series and the one-shot I posted(which there will be a prequel of soon!). it's literally so insane. Masterlist will be up tomorrow which I hope helps with accessibility!

edit: masterlist is up!

#jjk sukuna #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen sukuna #ryomen sukuna #sukuna ryomen #sukuna x reader #sukuna x y/n #sukuna x you #sukuna x singlemomreader #sukuna ryomen smut

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crescenthistory · 2 months ago

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Totally Just the Fifth and Sixth Wheel

Pairing: Regulus Black x Reader

Summary: Your and Regulus' private study session is interrupted by one Barty Crouch Junior who is inviting you on a triple date. You remind him for the thousandth time, that you aren't dating.

Words: 3.8k

Warnings: not proofread (who's got the time), fem!reader, longing, barty being barty, featuring wolfstar, rosekiller and james, fluff, sitting/half-cuddling without leaving space for god, typical marauders cursing and banter, me attempting to improve my dialogue and comedy, unresolved mutual pining, light discussion of black siblings drama, reader and regulus are teased relentlessly

Note: part two & part three

***

The Hogwarts Library was always slightly more still and calm on Saturdays, a luxury you made sure to never miss out on.

In a hidden-away corner, you and Regulus sat crammed into the same overstuffed emerald armchair. He sat normally, though slightly squeezed to the left, while you had your back to the right arm, leaning into his side with your legs sprawled across his lap. He evened the score by lolling his head gently against your shoulder as you both tried to focus on the parchment before you. It was an awkward fit – Regulus was all angles and sharp lines – but you never really cared, and neither did he.

"You know, if you had actually studied for Potions last night instead of playing chess with Barty," Regulus began, his voice a teasing whisper, "you wouldn't be stuck relying on me to help you through this essay."

He didn't bother lifting his head as he drawled, so you felt his breath on your skin. His dark hair, always perfectly in place, had fallen just enough to shade his eyes and tickle your neck.

"You're the one who insisted on going over three different ways to brew Amortentia, which, mind you, wasn't even required for this essay," you countered, smiling for no one to see.

He snorted softly. "It was for educational purposes. Not my fault you’re hopeless at memorising–"

"Not hopeless," you interrupted, smirking at him as he sat up straighter and fixed you with those cool, swirly eyes. "Just resourceful. Why bother memorising when I've got you?"

Folded in the crevices of his eyes and your words, there was that gentle push-pull between the two of you, a habit developed over years of being each other's only real reprieve. Your families were pressure cookers, a constant source of demands and expectations, of screaming and fears. It had tethered on explosion many a time, but through your years-long friendship, you had been able to make it a bit lighter together. Regulus had his complicated relationship with Sirius, but other than that, no one really knew how heavy it weighed on the both of you – just each other.

And then there was Barty, of course.

“Oi!” The familiar, obnoxious voice you somehow loved rang through the – thankfully nearly empty – library, making you tense for a split second before you exhaled. “Merlin’s bloody balls, you two are stuck in here again?”

Barty Crouch Jr. strode in, tossing himself onto the sofa opposite you and Regulus. He stretched his long legs out like he owned the place, flinging an arm across the back of the cushion.

“We’re not stuck,” you corrected him lazily, shooting him a glance from beneath your lashes. “We’re enjoying a bit of quiet. Something you might want to as well, seeing as we're in a library, Junior.”

Barty raised an eyebrow and then snorted, “Quiet? More quiet? You two sit in silence more than any couple I’ve ever known.”

You rolled your eyes, but Regulus – who you now, with the added presence, noticed was more tired today than usual – shot him a look that could have frozen hell over. As per usual. Barty, being Barty, didn’t care of course, just snickered for himself. He was the only one who could get away with constantly poking at Regulus, at both of you, with no more than witty quips thrown back. Maybe because he had been the one to pull you out of your shells, dragging you both into the light when you would have otherwise spent your time locked in your shared solitude and messy brains. Or maybe because he had been able to weasel his way into your hearts before you were old enough to realise he's a bit of an arse. By then, he was your arse.

"We're not silent, dear, we just aren't obnoxiously loud," Regulus hinted, voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Well, you do sit around whispering all the time. One would have thought you were spellbound to your books – and each other." Barty grinned, not even a little apologetic. “Or maybe just by each other."

"Oh shut up, Barty," you scoffed, though not without a slight smile.

"I’m just sayin’!”

Regulus leaned back against the chair, his elbow brushing your arm. "You’re always just sayin' something,” he said, eyes flicking toward the fire. “And you’re always wrong."

Barty’s eyes lit up, leaning forward with a grin that could only mean trouble. “Oh, come on, Reg. It’s been years. You two, together all the time, acting like no one else exists. Honestly, I’m surprised you haven’t killed each other or, better yet, finally gotten over yourselves and just snogged already."

This has always been Barty’s favourite game, teasing the two of you relentlessly, but it felt more pointedly overt tonight. Yet it didn’t stop the smile from tugging at your lips. Just because he's so very ridiculously wrong, of course.

“We have not–” Regulus began, but Barty cut him off with a wave of his hand.

“Right, right, you’ve never even thought about it." He makes an, arguably poor, attempt at imitating Regulus' tone. "But let’s be real, everyone else think you're shagging, so maybe you should too– oh, speaking of–" Barty had a poor habit of cutting himself of when a new train of thought entered. "Guess who finally asked Evan out?"

The shift in the conversation barely registered with you; you are very attuned to rolling with the Junior way of conversing, but Regulus shook his head in surprise.

"You? And Rosier?" Regulus asked, staring Barty down with more interest than he had shown the poor sod all evening. "Are you serious?"

Barty gave an exaggerated roll of his eyes, but the grin never left his face. “Took him long enough, didn’t it?”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “I thought he was avoiding you after that time you hexed him in Transfiguration–”

“Self-defence,” Barty cut in, giving you a wink. “He had it coming.”

Regulus raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “Didn't he have it coming for trying to ask you out, Barty?”

“Like I said. Self-defence. Son of a witch should let me be the one to make the first move.”

You shook your head fondly, happy for your second-oldest friend. "What a gentleman you are, Barty. Happy for you though, finally the pining and drunken hookups have led to something of sustance."

Barty nodded gravely, in faux seriousness. "Exactly! And that says something, coming from the Queen of pining."

You kicked his shin under the table and he laughed a bit too loudly for the library, evidently pleased with himself.

"I do no such thing, thank you very much."

Glancing sideways at Regulus, his expression was carefully neutral, though you could tell he was happy for Barty. Though, you were sure, he would never say that out loud.

Barty, ever the troublemaker, wasn't finished yet. “Which reminds me,” he said, leaning forward again with that dangerous glint in his eye, “We’re all going out this weekend. You lot, me, Rosier... oh, and your brother too, Reg.”

Regulus stiffened slightly beside you, just enough for you to notice and Barty to ignore. “Sirius?”

“Yep,” Barty said cheerfully, “and his boyfriend, Lupin. They're finally official as well, trying to steal my spotlight it seems.”

You and Regulus share a glance, trying to take it in. Sirius and Remus had been dancing around each other for what felt like ages, but apparently, they had finally made the leap. Regulus' jaw tightened slightly. His relationship with Sirius was still relatively uneasy territory for him, but they were making an effort to heal it together. You moved on from him, focusing your attention on Barty, so Regulus could process undisturbed.

"Since when do you and Big Black keep tabs on each other, let alone plan a double date?" you implored, genuinely confused.

"Well, firstly, Treasure," Barty drawled. "I always keep tabs on my best friends' sometimes-shitty-sometimes-good-always-complicated siblings. Secondly, as I said, they're stealing our spotlight, so of course I got involved."

"Ah, so it's not voluntary?" You quirk a brow at him, jokingly challenging him.

"Is too! The bastards are lucky I even suggested it."

"Riiiiiight," you dragged out, cocking your head at a huffing Barty.

You rolled your eyes laughing, then glanced over at the boy whose lap you were partially sat in. His gaze had trailed off into his lap, thoughts clearly elsewhere. You and Barty made eye contact and he sent you a look that clearly said his involvement with Sirius was for Regulus and not actually to bother him. Over the years, you had developed almost a form of telepathy with Barty, always seeing the aggressive loyalty behind his actions.

You placed a hand instinctively on Regulus' elbow and he seemed to come back down to reality.

"Anyway, the six of us are headed for Hogsmeade next weekend for our triple date. You better schedule us into your shared calendar." Barty went straight back to teasing.

"There is no shared calendar."

"And there is no triple date," you added.

Barty’s grin widened, and he flicked his eyes between you and Regulus. “What do you call a date with three couples? Regulus and Treasure, me and Evan, Sirius and Lupin. That's three. Three Broomsticks, that's a date. Triple date! Or do you prefer French, Reggie, un triple rencard? More romantic for ya?”

You opened your mouth to argue, but Regulus beat you to it. “We’re not a couple, Junior, would you just knock it off."

“Well, someone should tell the rest of the castle that, mate,” Barty said, smirking. “Everyone else seems to think you two are already married."

Before you could continue the seemingly never-ending argument with the grinning black-and-green-haired rascal before you, you heard footsteps and chatter approaching. Regulus whispered something in your ear about none of these buffoons respecting the quiet in a library as Sirius, Remus, and James appeared from around the corner. Sirius’s eyes flicked over the three of you, his gaze landing on Regulus, and giving a rather genuine smile.

“Greetings baby brother, sister-in-law and unfortunate acquaintance. What’s this I hear about a triple date?” Sirius asked, sauntering over like he owned the place, ignoring Regulus' groan.

If offended by the less-than-affectionate greeting he received, Barty did not show it as he grinned even more maniacally at what he likely saw as back-up in his torment of you two. "Good afternoon to you too, Big Black, we're just discussing the wedding colours. I am in support of emerald green, and I will listen to no other opinions as I know them best."

"No fair, I've known Reg the longest!"

"I do believe they would look lovely in a red," James teases as the group settles down around the table.

Regulus groaned softly, pinching the bridge of his nose. "For the love of–"

"You guys can walk around in whatever colour you'd like – we aren't getting married." You tried to set a stop to the conversation now. The jokes didn't roll as comfortably off you when in larger company. Though you and Remus had become quite good friends through class and you were seeing Regulus through his healing friendship with Sirius, you still weren't entirely accustomed to the bunch up close all at once.

"Well, surely not now, but the day will come and it's never too early to start planning," Sirius quipped, his grin matching Barty's perhaps a bit too much. "I will be best man, yeah?"

"Absolutely not, I will!" Barty butted in before you had the chance to reply.

"Wouldn't you be her best man? Or man of honour or whatever?" James raised an eyebrow, trying to pick up on the dynamic.

"Of course I will."

"Then Padfoot can be Regulus'?"

"I have no idea why you are talking about pads and feet, but no, I will be best man and man of honour thank you very much."

"That's no fair!" Sirius cried.

"Shouldn't this be a decision the lovely couple makes?" Remus chimed in, trying to calm his partner with a smile.

"For Salazar's sake – we are not dating!" You cut the whole conversation off, emphasising your point with hand gesticulations. The table actually went quiet for a moment, the newest additions sharing confused looks.

"What?" was all James could say.

"We are not together," Regulus spoke up for the first time, rolling his eyes in true Regulus-fashion. "We're just close friends."

Barty snorted at that.

Sirius looked absolutely floored for once. His eyes flick between you and Regulus in genuine surprise. “Wait– you're serious? You aren't dating? Since when?”

"Since forever?" Regulus questioned right back at his brother, finding his groove in the sarcastic exchanges. "Can two people not be close without having to be shagging?"

Sirius and Barty both chimed a "no" at the same time, though Barty was finding much more humour in it all than the other. He added, "Well, Treasure and I can. Evan and Reg can. You two on the other hand..."

You felt heat rise to your face, Regulus' leg shaking you slightly as he began to bounce it. "Where did you all even get that from?" you questioned, looking at everyone but Barty. You were well aware of why he thought what he thought.

“I mean–” Sirius spread his hands, gesturing towards how the two of you were sat, as you suddenly became aware that most of your body was touching Regulus' in some way. "Look at you! You’re always together. You act like an old married couple half the time. And you basically let each other get away with murder. I'm still not entirely convinced Trouble here won't kill me if Reggie ever asks."

"Don't call me that."

"I probably would."

Sirius was unaffected by both comments. He look towards James for support, who was nodding emphatically, clearly shocked too.

"Yeah, no, I thought it was just, like, common knowledge that you have been dating for years," James said, raising his hands a little at the look on Regulus' face. "No offence, just how it seems from the outside, 's all."

"Not to mention you look at her like–” Sirius started.

“Like what?” Regulus cut in, his grip on you loosening, just a little.

Sirius blinked, still thoroughly confused. “Like you’re bloody in love with her.”

You felt your breath catch in your throat, and out of the corner of your eye, you could see Remus suppressing a smile, engaging in some stare-down with his brother. You worried your voice would fail you, so you just shook your head disapprovingly.

Barty, never one to leave well enough alone, leaned back with a smug grin. “Told you tossers. The whole castle thinks you're dating, so you might as well get on with it."

"Well, we're not and we won't, so can you guys please just shut up." Regulus' jaw was still tight, scouring at his friends as he debated if that term was still one he wanted to use about them.

Sirius just shrugged, a knowing smirk playing on his lips. “Alright, Reg, whatever you say. But you’re both coming, yeah?”

You turned more into him as you scanned his face for an answer. Regulus held your gaze for a long moment, and you could see the wariness flickering just behind his eyes. You smiled, quirking a brow at him as if to say it's up to you, babe. He sighed and then said a low fine.

With a dramatised sigh, you turned back to Sirius and Barty and their expectant looks. “It’s not a triple date,” you said firmly, lifting your chin just slightly. “But we’ll join you as... I don’t know. Fifth and sixth wheels.”

Regulus grip on you tightened again as he settled back into his seat. “Exactly. Fifth and sixth wheels. Sure.”

Barty threw his head back and barked out a loud, unrestrained and frankly unnecessary laugh. “Sure thing, sweetcheeks,” he teased, grinning from ear to ear. “Whatever you need to tell yourselves. I’ll make sure Rosier knows it’s not a date.”

Regulus rolled his eyes, mumbling some indelicate words under his breath that only you could catch. You stifled a laugh, at which Regulus’ lips twitched – just the slightest hint of amusement given to you.

Sirius, still grinning, clapped his hands together like this was some great victory. “Brilliant. Can’t wait to see you both there. It’ll be... enlightening.”

Remus, who had been watching this whole exchange with thinly veiled amusement, leaned in closer to Sirius and muttered, “Enlightening? You've spent too much time with McGonagall.”

"Yeah, in detention," James muttered, evidently a shared trauma.

Sirius nudged him with his elbow, snickering. “Shut up, Moony.”

"Oi, that's no way to speak to your fresh boyfriend, is it, Black?" you teased, glad to have some revenge.

"Firstly, my darling not-quite-sister-in-law, you may refer to me as Sirius," he drawled with a lazy grin. "Secondly, I'll have you know he enjoys it when I'm a bit rude."

"Did not need to know that," Regulus mumbled with shut eyes as Remus swatted at his boyfriend to get him to behave.

"Anyway. We are happy for you." You smiled warmly, missing the shared glance between Remus and Sirius at your use of we. Regulus hadn't seemed to notice either, used to it.

"You won't be as happy when you have to see them sucking faces at this triple date." James' voice was laced with faux annoyance. You didn't bother correcting his use of the term triple date. Regulus scoffed, but it seemed to be more aimed at the idea of his brother sucking faces with anyone.

"You're just upset Evans isn't willing to suck faces with you yet, Prongs." Sirius' comeback caused a groan from James as his head thumped on the table – clearly he was right.

Barty made an ooooo sound, leaning in closer to poke at James, wanting to know all the hopefully-gory details.

With a tired sigh, you shifted back into the chair, pulling the Potions book from the table onto your lap once more, determined to return to your homework. You still had an essay due tomorrow, and Merlin knew Slughorn wasn’t going to accept any excuses, even from his favourite students. Regulus, sensing the shift in your focus, followed your lead, picking up his quill with a kind of forced determination. Your eyes met and you smiled at each other, back in the comfort of your little bubble, even with the overflowing table.

The chatter around the library became a dull hum as Sirius and Barty went from interrogating James to discussing the specifics of their plans for the weekend with Remus and James chiming in here and there. You didn’t need to listen – Barty would tell you all the ridiculous details later, no doubt with some embellished commentary on how hopelessly “in love” you and Regulus clearly were. He loved pushing his narratives, ever the comic.

But now, as you tried to force your attention back to your notes, the exhaustion that had been creeping up on you all evening settled in. You had barely slept the night before, and after a more exerting conversation than you had prepared for as you entered the library, you were reaching your limit.

Unconsciously, you let your body lean further into Regulus’s side, your shoulder pressing against his more firmly, your head coming to rest against the crook of his neck. It was such a small movement, something you had done hundreds of times before, but it felt more loaded in these surroundings. You could have sworn you felt Regulus' breath hitch. Nevertheless, your body naturally relaxed into his warmth.

Regulus tried to relax his posture to make it more comfortable for you, and let you rest against him without complaint. His quill hovered over the parchment for a moment, forgotten, as he swallowed thickly, trying to ignore the way his heart had started pounding in his chest. It did every time. It didn't seem like you had noticed before, so why worry about it now?

He told himself it didn’t mean anything – he said it a thousand times, you were his best friend. You had always been close like this. But Merlin, if his skin didn’t burn oh so deliciously where you touched him. If his mind didn’t wander to how you smelled, to the warmth of your body pressing against his. If he didn't savour the moment as if it would never happen again, as he felt so damned lucky that he knew it would.

He fought to keep his expression neutral, forcing his gaze back down to his notes, but the words on the page were little more than a blur now. He let his head drop onto yours as he kept rereading the same sentence.

Remus had drifted away from the conversation, eyeing the two of you. The others had – thankfully – moved on by now, but he risked elbowing Sirius slightly to point out how comfortable you two had grown together the second the attention was off you. Sirius had an eyebrow raised, his lips pressed into a thin line, but his eyes were glinting with that same, familiar mischief. Remus shot him a knowing glance, as if to say don’t push it.

Sirius didn’t say anything, knowing Remus was unfortunately right as usual, but the look he gave his brother spoke volumes. Despite what Regulus may want to think, he knew him. And he knew for a fact, that his little brother was in love. He smiled.

Barty and James had begun to bond over some grand plan to prank Evan during the supposed "not-date" this weekend. You had half an ear in the conversation, trying to catch on to whether you should warn Evan beforehand. But none of that really mattered to you at the moment. Not to you and certainly not to Regulus, who was trying desperately not to give in to the warmth spreading through him as your sigh fanned his skin.

You let your eyes drift close, just for a moment, feeling the weight of your pull at your consciousness. Caught somewhere between exhaustion and peace. Regulus noticed immediately and rubbed soothing circles on your back as he began to plot your escape to the dormitories.

You could have stayed like that forever. And maybe, Regulus thought, as his other hand brushed against yours where it rested on the armchair, he wouldn’t have minded if you did.

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irisintheafterglow · 5 months ago

Text

...said you like my eyes (and you like to make 'em roll)

summary: you marry hoshina soshiro. it's just a business deal...right?

wc: 1.2k

cw/tags: implied fem!reader, explicit language, marriage of convenience, childhood friends to rivals to lovers, pining but he's SO mad about it, tension breaking and a lil steamy towards the end (but nothing explicit), intentional lowercase (i didn't mean for it to be this long but here we are)

note: hello iris nation today i offer you hoshina brain rot because this bowl cut bastard has been nothing but the forefront of my mind for the past week. hope you enjoy LOL

likes, reblogs, and replies are appreciated <3

"oi." a small bubble mailer is unceremoniously tossed onto your desk and you don't bother looking up at who threw it. "wear that."

"hello to you too, vice-captain. what a lovely day it is!" you remark without pulling your pen from the document you were signing, your voice mockingly sweet. he can't stand you. "oh, i'm doing well," you continue with the imagined conversation, "just doing paperwork and wondering what my wonderful fake husband is up to."

"careful how loud you say that," he warns through gritted teeth, "or you put both of our jobs in jeopardy."

"i'm aware, hoshina." you sigh, finally looking up from your paperwork at the package in front of you. "trust me, i'm not trying to mess this thing up just as much as you are," you reassure him before dropping your voice to a nearly imperceptible volume. "as difficult as you make it, sometimes." you catch the muscle in his jaw clench and smile inwardly at your victory in making him tick.

"just open that and put it on. i have work to do." you frown, gesturing at the stack of papers that appeared on your desk that morning and were nowhere close to being finished.

"and you don't think i don't?"

"open the damn package."

"what do you say first?" you smile at him condescendingly and watch his frown become deeper. rolling his eyes, he pushes the mailer closer to you before muttering a quiet, "please." you reluctantly open the package, dropping the small gold circle inside into your palm. it's a testament to your working and romantic relationship with hoshina that your first reaction is to snort. "what the hell is this?"

"we're married, aren't we?" he scowls, annoyance overtaking his typically-amused face. "might as well look the part."

"how thoughtful of you," you say with no inkling of gratitude, slipping the ring into its proper spot on your left hand. "huh. perfect fit."

"that's a surprise," he mutters and you narrow your eyes, suspicious of what he meant by that. "i mean that i bought it off a discount site, not that i thought the ring wouldn't fit on your finger or something," he quickly corrects, his unhappiness and irritation clear.

"you got me a wedding ring off a discount site?" you bark out a laugh and admire the shining band in the light. "is this even real gold or is it painted plastic?"

"don't know. didn't bother looking," he mumbles and you gape at him and his pure level of indifference. "just wear that so no one gets suspicious about us."

"what about you?" he fishes under the collar of his suit to reveal a similar ring dangling at the end of a small chain. "aw, maybe you can give that one to your real wife one day. maybe she'll be stupid enough to believe it's real." he scoffs, turning to leave.

"i don't need another wife; i already have my hands full with you."

---

"they won't think twice if it's us marrying each other. not when they look at both of our histories," he explained to you on an off-base excursion, away from prying eyes and recording cameras.

"what's in it for you?" you take another sip from your drink, something you forced hoshina to buy for you for making you travel so far off base. it was like you were kids again, sparring with tree branches in the afternoon and spending all your money on sugary drinks. "isn't it bad to be making attachments, especially ones in the defense force itself?" he shrugs, calmer than you'd ever seen him since you were transferred to the third division. you remember the first time he saw you on base, immediately ordering you to run laps for some made-up reason. so much for childhood best friends turning into kaiju-fighting partners, you thought to yourself.

"people will stop asking me to use my benefits on them, for one," he says. "it'll also stop the brass from bothering me about next-of-kin type stuff."

"oh, so you want me to deal with the repercussions if you die? how thoughtful," you deadpan. "and in exchange, i get more benefits too?" he nods, refusing to look at you. come to think of it, you'd only faced him head on when you first arrived on base. shaking your head, you ask hoshina a question that'd been lingering your mind since you first saw him after he left to join the defense force. "why is this the most you've spoken to me since i transferred? what happened to growing up together and joining and-"

"questions like that have no place in this arrangement," he cuts in, a shadow casting over his eyes that you couldn't read. "so don't ask them." you huff through your nose before deciding not to press the subject further.

"strictly transactional, right?" you murmur, the barest hint of sadness detectable in your voice.

"strictly transactional," he affirms.

---

"mmm, now what happened to 'this is strictly transactional,' husband?" you smirk against his lips, his hands desperately roaming anywhere he can reach on your body.

"shut the hell up." after months of avoiding you and willing the ache in his lungs to subside, something in him had begun to bend when he saw what you were wearing to the defense force banquet. whatever it was completely snapped when you brushed your hand against the bicep of some nobody from another division. the interaction made his vision bleed scarlet and it took all his energy to remain cordial as he all but dragged you out of the ballroom.

"ask nicely and maybe i'll think about it," you murmur.

"shut the hell up, please," he rasps, breathless from kissing you in a dark, quiet back hallway of the banquet hall.

"kiss me harder and i will," you counter and he just laughs, pinning you back against the wall. one of his hands runs up and down the side of your thigh, the other holding you close by the back of your neck. "what's gotten into you? not that i'm complaining, but-"

"do you have any idea what you're doing to me?" hoshina can barely breathe, every single one of his senses overtaken by you. your perfume, your skin, your eyes, your lips. he was sinking into an indulgence that he'd never allowed himself to have, and it was intoxicating.

"i think i can make several educated guesses." he rolls his eyes but is barely able to stay away from you and your smart mouth. "but really," you say, gently pushing him away and you swear you hear him groan in frustration. "what's going on, soshiro?" soshiro. he liked it when you said his name.

"i'm done pretending that i don't care about you anymore," he admits, his face burning from adrenaline and embarrassment. "i'm fucking sick of acting like you don't matter to me." you blink at him as his eyes burn molten-red.

"why did you act like i was a burden?" your voice cracks and something in hoshina's chest wrings. "why were you so mean for so long?"

"i was hoping i could scare you away," he replies guiltily after a tense moment. "i was hoping that, if i was mean to you...you would leave the force and you wouldn't get hurt. i just wanted you to be safe. all i ever wanted was for you to be safe."

"and you thought marrying me to get your benefits would keep me safe?"

"i've had better ideas," he concedes and you crack a smile. he mirrors your grin, kissing you sweetly. "can i make it up to you?" his hands travel more dangerously over your exposed skin, sending shudders down your body. "i promise i can...make amends to your liking." you hum, tugging him out of the nearest exit.

"i think that can be arranged."

if you enjoy my writing and would like to support me, you can buy me a coffee on my ko-fi! you can also check out my full masterlist here :)

#kaiju no. 8 x you #kaiju no. 8 x reader #kaiju no.8 x y/n #hoshina x you #hoshina x reader #hoshina x y/n #kn8 x you #kn8 x reader #kn8 x y/n #hoshina soshiro x you #hoshina soshiro x reader #hoshina soshiro x y/n #soshiro hoshina x you #soshiro hoshina x y/n #soshiro hoshina x reader #hoshina fluff

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corvidcrossbow · 6 months ago

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~•♡•~ Double The Fangs, Double The Fun

➳ Summary: Daryl and Scud are regulars at the bar you work at, but they're only really there for you. One night while chatting, you injure yourself, so they help you home to heal up (Vamp!Daryl & Vamp!Scud x Fem!Reader)

➳ Setting: idfk sometime, somewhere, no apocalypse (this is a crossover fic for smut lets be real)

➳ Word count: 5.5k (3k of it is smut)

➳ C/W: VAMPIRES ‼️‼️, minor wound, blood (duh), biting/vampire feeding, double penetration, hints of Scud's mommy kink

➳ A/N: I wrote doc title for this as “DTFx2” cuz of the lettering, not even realizing the “down-to-fuck” till later, plus it being 2 partners – I cooked on this title. BUT ANYWAY I AM FUELING THE VAMP!DARYL FIRE AND VAMP!SCUD TOO BECAUSE THIS IS A PLAGUE AND I AM ILL AND I WILL SPREAD IT

You stretched your arms up over your head, leaning forward against the counter in front of you. It was another slow weeknight, no customers present, hindered by the fact the bar was tucked away in some deader part of the city. It was pretty boring, but you got paid for kinda just diddleling around a lot of the time. You rhythmically tapped your fingertips against the surface, but straightened up when the door jingled open.

“Fuck, I was about to start praying you two would show up. ‘Ts borin' as shit in here,” You laughed as two familiar faces walked in from the night; Daryl and Scud. They were your regulars, stopping by most any time you were on shift. And you heard from coworkers sometimes they'd show up, see that you weren't there, and just leave.

You never found it creepy though, it wasn't like that. They were always very respectful towards you, kind of chivalrous, but not obnoxiously. They'd always buy a drink and tip heavy, or just straight up give you money – and would scare off the actually creepy drinkers: the one's that'd prey on a woman as if she was frail. You didn't require them, having pepper spray and a gun beneath the counter, but they gave you extra security. And we're good company.

Scud, who you knews real name was Josh – the more ‘loverboy’ one of the two – popped by most nights after work. He was really sweet, having grown a soft spot for him and letting him bend the rules; like allowing him to smoke a joint, or three, inside, so long as he shared them with you. He claimed he was a sort of engineer, which you found a little surprising given you'd never seen him without the skunky smell of weed wafting around his figure, but it's not like it mattered to you.

Daryl, on the other hand, was much more reserved, and you'd be lying if you said that didn't intrigue you. He appeared older, and more of a rarity, seeming to drift in and out of town: which made sense given that scratchy, deep southern accent he carried.

“Ain't gon’ pass up seein’ ya, moonshine,” Daryl grinned as he sauntered up to take a seat, Scud following right behind and taking the one opposite him. ‘Moonshine’ is what he always called you, given you were a bartender, and it was ironic because you never saw either of them till after sundown. “Shift slow?”

“Painfully,” You groaned and rolled your eyes. “Ion even know how we get enough profit to keep this place open. Not sure anyone in our staff remembers the last time we saw the owner in person. I swear this is some money laundering scheme.”

“‘Least your gettin’ paid, yeah? My boss don't even got me onna regular schedule,” Scud tisked, reaching into the pocket of his large, layered jacket and pulling out the container he kept his joints in. “Ya wanna J?”: To which you nodded and he passed you one. Daryl's observant gaze watched your every movement, as he typically did.

“Ya get yer nails done, darlin’?” He asked, squinting his pale blue eyes and setting his hand out as you lit the joint.

“Hm?” Your eyes flicked to him, understanding, and you set your palm in his hand so he could see. Pressed to your nail beds were coffin acrylics, painted a rich red, the gloss making them almost bloody. “Jus’ got ‘em done this morning. Figured if ‘m gonna be sittin’ here twiddling my thumbs half the time they might as well look good.”

“Looks perfect on ya.” Your gazes locked together for a moment, hypnotic in a way as his irises seemed to pulse, then suddenly shift down. He loomed closer and ran his thumb over your fingers, appreciating the gleaming texture that reflected in the dim light.

“Real pretty momma's,” Scud added as he took a long drag of his smoke, holding it for a moment before skillfully exhaling in a long plume that dissipated and began to fill the small space with a haze.

“Mm, thank you boys,” You turned a little, offering a bashful smile at their endless complimenting – they showered you with affectionate comments every time they came in. “Either of you want somethin’? It can be on the house, think the workers drink more than customers.”

“‘Ll take'ah whiskey – ‘nd m’payin’ ya anyway, angel,” Daryl replied, fishing for his wallet and passing you bills that more than doubled the price of a shot. Frankly you felt bad sometimes, like you were taking his money, but gave up a long time ago with trying to decline. He insisted.

As you went to grab the iconic bottle of Jack Daniel's off the shelf behind you, your elbow stuck out a bit too far and knocked over a large glass you'd been using for water, sending it to the floor where it shattered. “Ugh, never complain that you're bored at work. Fate'll always make ya clean.”

You quickly poured the auburn grog into a shot and slid it across the wood countertop to Daryl, dropping to your knees to pick up the larger shards.

“Fuck!” You seethed, accidentally slicing open the palm of your hand by sweeping it over the edge of a fragment in the other, your joint nearly falling from where you'd pinched it between your lips. Both men bounded from their stools to look over, simultaneously uttering ‘Ya alrigh's?''s. You half-clutched your fist and rose to be level again, hitching your breath with a small whine as striking pain electrified your nerves.

Blood quickly began to spill from the gash, running down your wrist and upper forearm before dripping to the floor a couple times as Daryl snapped to grab a clean rag from behind the bar so you could hold pressure, moving so fast he registered as just a whoosh. As your eyes were shut in pain, theirs were blown open, locked onto the crimson that tinted your skin. They could see the microscopic way it gushed a bit more from every beat of your heart.

Tendrils of that sweet, mind warping scent curled through the air and around the pair's bodies. God it smelled so damn good – you smelled so good. They didn't wish you harm, but they'd just been agonizingly waiting to someday, by some chance, get to smell the life-giving fluid that pumped through your veins without the blockage your skin created, keeping the complete experience inside of you. And they could only dream of getting to taste it…

You spun back to face them, and swore for a second, the color of both their blue eyes had altered to match the plasma soaking into the grey washcloth in your grip – their faces flat like they hadn't eaten in years and you just baited the idea of a gourmet feast. But once you blinked, they were back to azure, concern etched across eyebrows and frowns. Maybe it was just the shitty brilliance of the bar.

“‘M fine, jus’ being mindless I guess. Scud, how the hell are ya smokin’ and working with wires ‘n soldering shit,” You shook your head, blaming your incident on the brain fog from weed, although it was a poor excuse given it should not have taken effect that fast. Perhaps you were just embarrassingly locked on auto-pilot.

“Ya look like yer bleedin’ bad, princess. Lemme see.” Daryl beckoned you over and took your hand. His body tensed, that dangerous feeling of his canines extending creeping up. It took all he had to not press his mouth to you. He knew better, he had control. You let him remove the rag, examining the cut and finding it to be quite deep, him stating it might have to be closed

“We don't got any medical stuff here ‘sides maybe a few bandaids. I'd be surprised if anybody else came in ‘ere tonight so I'll just close up ‘n deal with it home. Sorry to cut our chat time short guys…” You gave a half frown, taking an unsteady inhale and trying to mask the aching in your extremity. You smothered the joint, enjoyment ruined.

“Don't gotta apologize mama's. Wantcha to be okay,” Scud commented, mirroring your expression. Looking between him and Daryl, you felt there was some synergy connecting them, like they were communicating despite both staring at you.

“Why don't we take ya home, mebbe have me patch tha fer ya, hm?” Daryl suggested, readjusting his leather jacket as he tilted his head slightly.

“Oh, no. I don't wanna bother either of ya with that…”

“‘Ts no bother, sugar. We wanna make sure you're safe. ‘Ts late, dark, ‘nd you're bleedin’. Don't want anythin’ bad happening to ya,” Scud explained, his every word ending on a sort of mewl as he plucked his joint from his mouth to speak clearly.

“Alright – just cause I know you two will follow me to check anyway.” You grabbed your things, Daryl and Scud helping to close up the bar so you didn't further injure yourself, then leaving with you. It was reasonable for them to come with, and this wouldn't be the first time. And this wasn't the safest part of town, so it wouldn't hurt to have them.

❥-》》—————➣

When you returned to your apartment, both of them praised your designing of the interior, having not been inside before. To you it wasn't much of anything special, but again, it was just in their nature to say kind things to you.

You nodded Daryl in the direction of your bathroom so he could grab some ointment and gauze, going to sit on the couch as Scud plopped beside you. You easily could've nursed it yourself, but if there was anything you really knew about Daryl, it was his tendency to always be doing favors – and not letting you decline.

“Y'know… I know a way tah make that heal faster than any dressings could,” Scud broke the silence, dragging his gaze over your frame, and landing on your hand where you still held the soiled rag. He couldn't fucking take it anymore. He didn't have the control that Daryl did.

“What do you mean?” You now faced him, confused at the way his breathing seemed to grow a bit heavier, chest puffing further out despite his lazy posture. But he straightened some, scooting closer to you and reaching for your hand.

“Just trust me on this…” He was salivating, bottom lip practically trembling with anticipation. He was so close, access to your fresh blood right there. God how he ached for it every time he saw your beautiful face, just so damn entranced by you. He tried not to completely lose his mind as he neared your palm.

“Um… yer gonna get it infected doin’ that.”

“Won't.” And his mouth hovered right above it.

“Seriously, Scud, what are you doing?” Now you were concerned, tempted to call Daryl back. Was this some weird sex thing? His way of trying to seduce you? Taking ‘kiss my boo-boo to make it feel better’ a bit too far. But you sensed this… energy, radiating off of him, drawing out your naïve trait of curiosity. Something felt different about him, although you guess it always did – but only now could you really perceive it, having him so close. “What are you? ”

Scud's eyes flicked up to yours, blue flipped across the scale of hues to match the color you'd caught a glimpse of at the bar – the color of your blood, and those flawless new nails. “Whadda ya think I am, sweetheart?”

As his lips peeled back with a grin, you could see the lengthy, pin-sharp fangs that descended from the roof of his mouth, glistening with his famine. Your mouth fell open, pupils dilating as realization worked through your brain. Oh shit. Oh, shit..? You didn't speak, but didn't know what to say anyway.

He chuckled at your reaction. “Jus’ relax, mama's.” Finally. His tongue darted out, dragging a long lick over the front of your wound, causing you to wince and jerk a little. It didn't particularly hurt, but was so odd at the start. Scud held back a moan, but couldn't help his remarks: “Mmm, you taste so good… bettah than I ever imagined…”

You swallowed thickly, watching him work saliva over your tender flesh, and lapping away any remnants of the blood that ran down your arm. He stared intensely into your eyes as he drew a long, excessively slow lick up your limb and back to the wound. You felt it begin to radiate, an unfamiliar warmth centralizing over the cut but spreading out into your entire palm.

He brushed his lips against your fingers with a featherlite kiss, and reluctantly pulled away, letting you watch branches of skin connect together from both sides, color quickly shifting back to your normal tone, and your hand completely unscathed. You flexed your tendons, feeling it for yourself. It was completely healed, a two-week time lapsing into under a minute.

“Why'd ya show ‘er.” Daryl's voice was stern, silently standing behind the couch and startling you as you whipped around. You should've figured – it wouldn't take that long to find simple first aid in your bathroom.

“Known ‘er for long enough, D. Why let'er suffer with some gash if we can just heal it for her?” Scud replied and shrugged innocently. But his wording was key; ‘we’.

“You're both vampires,” You nodded dryly as Daryl grumbled something under his breath and came around the couch to sit on the other side of you. Now the ‘moonshine’ was really ironic. “Okay… I assume if you were gonna drain me ya woulda done it by now.”

“Don't tempt me, baby,” Scud smirked, and Daryl shot him a harsh glare. “What? Sure she appreciates the healin’ at least!”

“Yeah, I do… but it's weirdly intimate, no? Just, wetly runnin’ yer tongue all over someone, gathering saliva on their skin, tastin’ the irony remnants of their blood-”

“Quit talkin’ like that,” Daryl hissed, your sight passing back to him, watching his adam's-apple bob and his jaw tense. His eyes reddened as well, and it dawned on you how teasing your choice of dialogue must've been for them.

“Or keep goin’. Like hearin’ your gorgeous voice say such pretty words,” Scud wet his lips, volume just above a whisper. You felt trapped between two sides of a spectrum, both equally covet… and you were way more into it than you would ever want to admit. Your jaw laxed with a weary breath, mind wandering further ahead than you liked it to. “But you're right, can be real intimate.” His voice dropped lower as he neared you, keeping sights intertwined.

“You're torturing me momma's… pleas’... would give anythin’ to feel ya,” He almost whimpered, puppy dog eyes peering up at you. “He would too, he's jus’ a lil’ more shy.”

It'd be the fattest lie of your life to say you didn't find him attractive, both of them. Closing the door behind you some nights after they'd walked you home, tempted to just bring them inside. How many times you muttered dirty words as your legs tangled in your bedsheets and you touched yourself, imagining how they'd sound in Scud's whiny hitches, or Daryl's gravelly grunts…

You reached up, taking Scud's chin in the light hold of your acrylics and bringing his mouth to yours. He directly melted, turning to puddy from that alone and cravingly dabbing your lips with his tongue. When you pulled back, he tried to follow, pining for more. But you wanted to be fair, and switched to the other man.

Daryl looked like he didn't know what to do, that effort of displaying confidence broken the second the gate he'd been waiting outside of for so long actually opened. But a quick ‘C'mere’, and the curling of your pointer finger brought him to you expeditiously, rough lips chafing over your moisted ones. He shoved away his groan, not quite ready for that yet.

“This ain't gonna stop at kissin’, right?” You checked on an exhale, both their eyes boring into you from either plane, the patterns of their breathing reworking themselves. Dropping it here would be teasing you now.

“S’ain't gon’ stop less ya want it to, moonshine,” He rasped, irises captivating and luring you back to him, clawed hand coming to his cheek – that made the groan slip. He inhaled sharply, ardently guiding his tongue into your mouth, which definitely made Scud jealous.

The engineer brought his hands to your waist, toying with the seams of your shirt as Daryl harshly tugged you closer to him, gaining momentum, growing hungrier. He explored the entire cavity of your mouth, feeling the heat of your gums, the smoothness of your teeth in comparison to his canines, and drew a moan from your throat, hints of a smile crinkling.

“Yer not good at hidin’ whatcha want, honeysuckle,” The southerner purred, trailing down to your jawline as Scud's lips pressed to the nape of your neck. You weren’t sure if he could tell by your body language, or was able to read your mind or something; all the near whorish thoughts running through your psyche.

“Then you should know how long I've thought about this.”

Daryl immediately hooked his strong arms under your thighs, shoving Scud back to stand up off the couch, your legs instinctively latching around his torso as he started to leave a hickey on your neck and find his way to your bedroom.

Scud awkwardly stood behind for a second, shyly glancing to the floor, feeling literally and figuratively pushed aside by the other's dominance. “C'mon Scuddy,” You mouthed, and he looked like he came in pants right there – hurdling to track after you.

Daryl roughly threw you onto the edge of your bed, simultaneously ripping your shirt up over your head. He reached down for the button of your jeans, quickly popping it out and tearing them off, leaving you in just your lacey, red bra and panties.

“Jeez, you ‘nd fuckin’ red, woman.” He bordered on a growl, sliding off his jacket and tossing it to the floor. You sat upright on the rim the mattress, aiding Scud in dropping his many layers, but he teetered like he just wanted to fuck himself senseless with all it still on.

Both them now shirtless, you raked your nails down their chest, taking extra notice to follow the lightning-like scars carved into Scud's abdomen to your left. You let out a breathy curse at their defined v-lines and mouthwateringly sexy happy trails, discarding Daryl's belt, and gently cupping his pulsing erection through his jeans – the same through Scud's cargos.

One twitched, then the other, and you chuckled. “You two really want me that bad, huh?” You questioned, beaming up through your lashes with a flirty smirk: but that mischievous temping simmered seeing the pure lust on their features. They looked like they were gonna eat you alive, and honestly… you wouldn't mind it.

You undid their pants to drop them down, and with some sort of unspoken permission translating between the three of you, they pounced forward, resistance snapping like twigs. Scud hauled your body up the bed and instantaneously found your lips, already gasping into your mouth. His hands each found one of your breasts, fondling and pawing impatiently through your bra.

Daryl grabbed your hips, tugging you back down a little and drawing a wet lick from the hem of your panties up your navel, holding you to him as your spine arched. He kissed and sucked at the delicate skin on your pelvis and inner thighs, leaving behind litters of those gentle bruises on the surface, spotting across the curves of your body. His fangs grazed you as he worked, a persistent reminder of what a feral vampire could just take from you – but he was a humble man, and prefered to give.

You directed Scud to strip your bra, given he'd basically lost all ability to function the second your clothes were off, and even worse once he was on you. Now with your chest fully out, he was gone. He greedily sucked one nipple into his mouth, kneading the other like a cat, while Daryl curled a finger around the hem of your panties, deliberately running from side to side before he suddenly ripped them away – literally ripped. “Promise ‘ll buy ya new ones, babydoll.”

Whatever deeply guttural noise that erupted from you when Daryl's tongue made contact with your cunt was everything but holy. Your hips bucked up into his face so rapidly it almost caught him off guard, his palms splayed out on your thighs and his mouth latched onto your clit. He sucked in rapid pumps, before trawling down then back up and spreading your folds. He lapped up every bit of your pooled wetness, taking a deep inhale and the hidden claws in his fingertips nearing shooting out as his toes curled.

“Fuck! Yer pussy smell's'so fuckin’ good.” His words came out as near snarls, reverberating against your core. Should the view of him not have been obscured by Scud, you're sure you would've came at the sight of him so deeply intoxicated by just the scent of you. “‘Nd tastes so goddamn lovely.”

“‘Ts not fair, man, ah wanna taste ‘er-”

“Nah. Ya got ‘er hand, pussy's mine.” Now he was snarling, possessive crimson eyes stabbing into the other man as he'd turned to look back at him, burying himself deeper into your cunt and earning another wild moan. Scud frowned a little, but you brought your hands to his hips and readjusted him to be sitting on your chest, legs on either side of your body.

“Don't worry, baby.” And you rolled down his boxers so his dick was free: fully hard, tip swollen up and flushed with color, absolutely weeping for you, and it bobbed with a twitch. You wrapped your hand around the base, giving a few pressurized strokes as he bowed forward over your head and straight up whimpered in your ear, aching and pulsing and starved of touch and attention.

“Oh-.. God, momma's… t’so good…” He wove his fingers through your hair to tug lightly at the roots and anchor himself. But the second you put your tongue on him, he jerked forward and shoved into your mouth, cumming abruptly. He couldn't help it, you were; “Jus’ so warm…”

Still you swallowed it down, swiveling the tip of your tongue along the underside of his head, prolonging his high. You weren't surprised; with how frenzied he was, acting like he'd been edged for far too long – which you supposed he had, based on how he talked earlier – you pegged him for the kind to cum fast. He probably wanted you to actually peg him too.

Daryl tipped a domino by chuckling at the early orgasm, the sound waves making you moan around Scud's cock, which in return made him slide a bit deeper again. Daryl started to hum, and removed one hand from your thigh to slip two girthy fingers into you, curling them up and pressing into that sensitive spot in your walls. He focused his mouth on your clit, drawing it in with suction while he rapidly wagged his tongue, soon pumping his fingers in and out of you, and your moans picked up.

The shallow edge of Scud's claws inched further out and held your skull, careful to not scrape into your skin, but exigent nonetheless. His breathing descended into ragged heaving against the side of your head as you worked his cock like you knew every little thing that got him going.

“Getch'yer dick outta her mouth so Ah can hear ‘er cum,” Daryl barked, breaking contact from you for just a moment. Scud groaned, wanting so badly for you to deepthroat him, but he shifted over to the side, knowing Daryl would forcibly do it anyway. Now he moved impossibly faster, fingers stretching you open and filling the bedroom with wet noises from how he had you dripping.

Getting to hear you clearly now sent him into overdrive, grunting against your clit while Scud just laboriously returned to toying with your boobs. “C'mon girl, jus’ cum. Cum fer me. Wanna see yer gorgeous face.”

“Jesus, Daryl-” Your sentence split, and you cried out, trembling legs coming together and forcing him flush against you. You rode his face, a hand flying down to tug at his shaggy locks and assisting you in rolling your hips. He clutched you bruisingly hard, nearing ripping into you.

When your limbs relaxed again, he lavished long licks over your cunt, swirling the tangy, sticky nectar of your release over his entire mouth. “Mos’ perfect fuckin’ thing.”

“Pleas’ mommas, can I fuck ya?” Scud pleaded, cupping your face to catch his distress. Sharing was hard when one party was so much more controlling. Poor thing needed you.

But seeing Daryl yank down and discard his boxers, hard cock visibly throbbing and tip shaded red, he needed you too. And you could tell a blowjob just wouldn't settle it for either of them. “Fuck, just-.. both of you fuck me.”

“Can ya handle two, sweetheart?” Daryl exhorted, swiping a strayed bit of hair from your forehead and deftly tucking it back, slightly softened eyes checking for sincerity in your expression. With your nod, they acclimated to desire once again.

He flipped onto his back, and manhandled your body overtop of him, your back flattened on his chest, and Scud hurriedly positioning above. Daryl kept your legs spread apart with his, reaching around and palming at your breast while going down to slick himself between your soaked folds, slapping himself against you a couple times. “Ya tell us if s'too much, alrigh’?”

“Yea, yeah- please, just fuck me already,” You wailed as he angled you down and slipped deep into you, Scud giving you a second to adjust before coating spit over his shaft, and gently guiding into you as well.

Your back arched as Daryl held you firm, whining in delectable pain as they strained you further open than you ever had been, your acrylics digging into his waist beneath you. Scud layered himself onto you, sucking another hickey into your chest then rocking his hips a couple of times.

When you handled it well, Daryl took it as a cue to join him, plodding more in his thrusts to still give you the opportunity to bail if this wasn't to your liking. Your eyelids fluttered closed, head lulling back to rest on Daryl's shoulder as your heavy breaths fell in line with the pace. When Scud pushed in, Daryl would pull out, and vice versa: always keeping you full while maintaining the motion that granted so much ecstasy to you three. Every one of their filthy noises sounded incomprehensibly better than you'd ever pictured.

Scud mewled against you, head buried into your breasts and giving quick pecks or licks any time he wasn't being uncontrollably vocal. Daryl did the same, groaning into your shoulder and hair.

“Takin’ us so good, arentcha darlin’? So wet, pussy so tight,” Daryl hushed into your ear, hooking up faster and faster following each of his thrusts like the speed was on a multiplier.

You twisted fingers in the back of Scud's head, triggering a loud whine when you tugged on the roots of this hair and that metal choker he always wore. He started to waver, weakly humping you like his brain was fried and just focusing on staying as deep inside you as he could. “Mmm… mommy, I… ‘m so hungry. Please…” The hinges of his jaw started extending on their own, humid exhales dampening an area by your neck. Tasting hints of your blood earlier spawned a black hole that decimated the sinkhole he'd previously had caving in over time. In the near year he'd known you, that urge to just feed from your tender flesh was all he ever thought about. And now, warm walls of your cunt wrapped around him, urging him to another orgasm… He couldn't wait much longer, he was starving.

Daryl planted his feet to make up for Scud's faltering rhythm, the strengthful build of his hips and thighs making it easy to lift you. He was trying so hard to focus on just fucking you, but as the other vampire's imploring got the best of him, he started to follow suit. “Ya know yer'a damn tease, righ’ moonshine? Lookin’ so sexy all tha time, tha seductive scent ah yers… Fuck, I kno’ ya taste like heaven…” He craned his neck up, applying pressure to your carotid artery with his tongue, feeling everything he wanted pump through you at a rapid rate.

You took in a shaky breath, vivacity emanating from the both of them and encircling you. Their dicks throbbed inside of you, the drifter pistoning while the engineer hunched, but that just wasn't enough, and it made the craving so much more pressing. Their pairs of fangs rested on the edges of your skin, tracing over it, each on one side.

“Shit… just do it-.. Jus’ fuckin’ do,” You panted, and it happened so fast you barely even realized it. Scud's bite was eager, being more frantic and on your left: Daryl's more longing, savoring the feeling of piercing into your silky flesh on the right. They drew long siphons into their throats, sultry crimson flooding their systems as their eyes blazed a mutual color.

A strangled moan ripped from your being, your consciousness floating in a haze. Daryl fucked you faster, empowered by your smooth blood, grunting savagely as his razor-edged talons dug into your breasts, Scud's on your waist: but they were so careful to not rip you up.

“Mmmnngh… oh, gods momma, m’gonna cum…” Scud lost any last sense of his composure, curving his spine and slicking out of you to cum over your pelvis. He whimpered like an injured dog, anchoring himself with the teeth lodged in you, grinding against you a few times to ride out the bliss as he messied your body with lengthy ropes of white. Waves of body-wracking pleasure made him writhe around on your chest, lost in some other realm.

“Fuck… cum fer me again, dollface. Know yer good fer me,” Daryl mumbled against you, driving into your cunt with every newfound bit of liveliness he garnered from feeding on you. Your brain stopped working at this point – those red acrylic nails scratching at Daryl's thigh with your left, and Scud's back with your right.

You felt lightheaded, loss of ichor incapacitating you even as they'd ceased thirsting, just keeping fangs planted in your muscles. The crest of euphoria floated your soul to nirvana, Daryl's tip brushing past one specific golden point in your walls and shoving you off the cliff of your climax, tightening his hold on you as you bowed and bucked, vision stripped from your senses.

Your pussy spasmed and massaged around the southerner's cock, and with a final few abusing thrusts, he withdrew and spilled his own load over your folds, resistant moans rumbling from his vocal cords. All three of your chests heaved intensely, fighting to steal any oxygen from the lust-filled atmosphere of your bedroom.

Daryl's hands drifted to your midsection to push up and roll Scud off of you to the left, knowing he was too much of a fucked out mess to do it himself. He gently laid you between the two of them, smoothing a caring hand over your chest and pressing a kiss to your upper arm. “Ya feelin’ okay, moonshine? Didn't take too much, righ’?”

“Yea, ‘m good.., jus’ need a minute,” You wheezed, eyes shut and soma trying to recuperate. Daryl peeled himself from the bed, going to wet a rag, and fetch some water and food. Returning, he compassionately cleaned away the cum smeared across your curves, supporting you as he helped you drink and all – then gathered extra layers of healing saliva over your puncture wounds just to make sure they'd seal over.

He soothed you by tracing patterns with his calloused palm, the three of you resting for a long while and wrapping thoughts around what just happened.

Scud snaked his arm around yours and cuddled right up against your side, keeping lips pressed against you with his whiny hums. “Wanna feel more'ah ya mommas…” To only say he was needy was an understatement, he was full on reliant – vampiric endurance adapting the role of an exponent for such.

“Let ‘er rest.”

You brought your nails to Scud's scalp, gently scratching his head and he practically began to purr. Even if Daryl shoved him off, you appreciated how benevolent he was to you, and could tell he felt less-than right now, lacking your focus. “That spit of yours work on swellin’ too?”

He nodded with a mumbly ‘Mhm…’

“Then how bout'cha lick my pussy till it feels better, ‘nd we'll keep goin’ till botha ya are ran dry, hm?” You suggested, planting a kiss on the top of his head and sensing the energy shift.

And they were both on you all over again in an instant.

©corvidcrossbow 2024. I do not give permission for my works to be copied, modified or adapted to other platforms. My work may be translated only if asked and with proof of given consent.

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read-marx-and-lenin · 3 months ago

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I’m following the DPRK debates (or trying to at least) but ultimately I’m struggling to understand how to glorify a nation that impedes so heavily on its citizen’s human rights, any insight?

Two things:

First, you shouldn't be trying to glorify anything. You should be trying to understand things and separating truth from fiction.

Second, in that vein, you should be seriously questioning what is being said about the DPRK and why. The US and its allies have a vested interest in ensuring that any socialist project fails, and when they are unable to cause a real failure, they work to make the public believe that it has failed anyway.

The two main sources of the most egregious human rights violations are defector testimony and US/ROK intelligence. If you've been following what I've posted about the DPRK on this blog then you should already know the problems with defector testimony (you can watch this short documentary if you want to know more about that and hear from a few former DPRK residents who rebut many typical defector narratives,) but suffice it to say that the ROK actively pays defectors to make false and scripted statements in the South Korean media, and those who do not go along with the ROK government narrative or who actively contradict it are censored and even face prison time.

Meanwhile, Western intelligence is inherently unverifiable. The best you're going to get is a satellite photo with a building labeled "torture facility" as if we're supposed to look at a roof and be like "uh-huh, that looks like a torture facility to me". US and ROK intelligence officials can and do say whatever they like, but at the end of the day they are the direct enemies of the DPRK and their claims cannot be trusted.

The two Korean governments are still at war; they have never signed a peace treaty. Their conduct must be viewed first and foremost in this context. Both the ROK and the DPRK block movement of people across the DMZ. Both the ROK and the DPRK prevent the dissemination of information coming from each other's nations. Both the ROK and the DPRK surveil their citizens and place controls on the media. Both the ROK and the DPRK place limits on political and cultural activity. The ROK acts to suppress anti-capitalist movements and protect the capitalist way of life, and the DPRK acts to suppress anti-socialist movements and protect the socialist way of life, as both sides view their own political and economic systems as vital to the protection of human rights. On any of these grounds, you cannot fault one side without faulting the other, which is why Western media often opts instead to focus on the more exaggerated and unverifiable claims except when explicitly advocating in favor of capitalism over socialism.

Finally, there is the issue of contradictory ideas of human rights. The capitalist West will insist time and time again that the right to private property is a basic human right, while avoiding or even denying the idea of a right to food, shelter, clothing, healthcare, etc. as a basic human right. To the West, a landlord's right to evict a tenant is inviolable. To the West, denying a person shelter is more of a human right than granting them shelter. The opposite is true in socialist nations such as the DPRK. That the DPRK holds different values as human rights does not then mean that the DPRK is some terrible oppressive violator of human rights. The right to be a capitalist should not be considered a human right. The right to be a saboteur should not be considered a human right.

The DPRK Association for Human Rights Studies, a non-governmental organization in Pyongyang, published a report in 2014 on human rights from the perspective of the DPRK, outlining their objections to US-led international human rights standards and the progress being made in the DPRK towards guaranteeing human rights. You can call it propaganda if you like, but if you do not even look at the statements coming out of the DPRK, how can you have a rounded view of the situation?

Had the DPRK not succeeded in withstanding the attacks against it, had it managed to become subjugated by the US and other imperialist forces, I do not think we could then say that human rights in North Korea would have been secured and safeguarded. The poverty and inequality that the proletariat of South Korea are afflicted with today would have become the norm across the whole peninsula. Even if you believe that human rights are violated today in the DPRK, you must at least admit that the victory of the US and its puppet government in the South cannot be a means of combating any alleged human rights violations in the North.

#communism #socialism #leftism #anti capitalism #anti imperialism #dprk #north korea

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carlyraejepsans · 3 days ago

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would you be okay pitching ghost trick to someone who doesn’t rly know anything about it? i’ve heard of it before and that it’s good but idk why, and i don’t really get a lot out of advertisements or game descriptions

you know the toby-typical campiness in how he writes his characters in UTDR? over the top, extremely iconic, clearly working from preestablished tropes but doing his own special spin on them? put toby fox on acid and you've got shu takumi's writing style.

ghost trick isn't "just" good. ghost trick is the type of good that invents a whole new categorization for itself. ghost trick invented a situation to put little fictional bitches in that is so good, the most popular works in the tag are people from other fandoms being like "oh shit, let me put MY fictional bitches through in this situation as well"

it is one of the most hooking, satisfyingly delivered mysteries I've ever seen in a videogame. there is not a single second of the game that feels unutilised, everything pushes you forward in the mystery, and still it never feels choking. the way it handles tension and delivers its information is phenomenal. if this were a normal recommendation i would start talking about the gameplay and how fun and good it feels to play and how genuinely clever it is but you're not here for that, are you, so let me tell you the real selling point: every single character in this game is fucking insane. not a single one of them is normal. it's a noir. it's a parody. it's an animator's wet dream. my friend is playing the game on stream and they said his fiancée can tell when we're streaming because she can hear him doing his pathetic man voice on call.

listen to me. you will fall in love with sissel. i played One Shot earlier this year. i thought i was never going to find a game with a protagonist that crawled into my heart as much as niko. i was wrong. jesus christ i was wrong. you need to understand, this is a puzzle game. once you know the answers that's it for the gameplay. the replay value is extremely low. I have replayed it 5 times in three weeks just to make the wrong choices and watch what sissel says and quips about it. he's my guy. i need to hold his face in my hands. you will see his fuckass red suit, you will see his fuckass banana hair, you willl see his goofy little smile and his dirk strider ass sunglasses and you will whimper like a DOG because you miss him so much. i am missing him right now as we speak. fuck.

play ghost trick.

#answered asks #absolutely hinged review and if anyone has anything to say about this I will kill them #ghost trick

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puckbunnyera · 10 months ago

Text

Just Friends | Luke Hughes

• ──────────────♡────────────── •

pairing: luke hughes x reader genre: fluff word count: 2.3k warnings: none summary: maybe you were never really just friends

notes: it's been less than 24 hours since i posted my first fic and i've already received a few asks for a part 2 so here it is. i'll link the first part here. thank you to everyone who has taken the time to read it, like it, reblog it, etc. i'm always really nervous to post my own writing so any type of interaction with it feels good to see.

also, i know the timelines of the games played in both fics don't align with the actual events in real time but we are just going to ignore that for the sake of the plot.

• ──────────────♡────────────── •

I sigh as I stand in front of my bedroom mirror, doing one last fit check before Luke arrives. I'm nervous. I come to this realization as I smooth out the nonexistent wrinkles in my shirt. Why? I couldn't tell you. It's been almost two months since the night I met Luke, and we've talked and texted almost every day since. We've even hung out multiple times since then, but I always seem to get all nervous and jittery anytime he presents the offer. My thoughts start to consume me to the point that I'm almost tempted to text him and ask for a rain check, but before I can fall too deeply into them, my attention is stolen by the two girls lying on my bed behind me.

"I still can't believe you're dating The Luke Hughes." One of my friends says causing me to turn my back towards the mirror to look at her.

"We aren't dating." I scoff. "We're-"

"Right, you're 'just friends'." My other friend interrupts, rolling her eyes and using her fingers to make air quotes as she says the words.

"We are." I shrug, moving to sit in my vanity chair so I can put on my shoes.

"You don't have to believe us if you don't want to, but he totally has the hots for you."

"It's so obvious. Any time he has the chance to get away from his job, he's calling, texting, or coming to see you. Even if it's only for a short amount of time. Those aren't typical behaviors of a guy who wants to be 'just friends'."

They continue to go on and on as if they're trying to convince a jury that they're innocent of a crime. The sound of my phone dinging from beside me on the table finally brings their rambling to an end. I pick up to find a text from Luke.

From Luke🏒: i'm here

To Luke🏒: omw

"I would love to stay and continue this conversation," I smile sarcastically as I stand up, "But my friend is waiting for me downstairs." I make sure to add extra emphasis on the word friend.

They both giggle and bid their goodbyes as I walk out of the room. When I make it downstairs to the lobby of my apartment building, Luke, in all of his handsome glory, is waiting patiently by the door.

"Ready to go?" He questions once I'm standing in front of him. I nod in confirmation and he opens the door for us, placing a gentle hand on my back to lead me out.

"What's the plan for today?" I ask once we're settled into the car.

"I need to drop off a couple of things at the dry cleaners since my brother forgot to do it," He gestures to the items in his backseat. "But then I figured we could go to dinner, catch a movie, and then maybe grab some dessert before I take you home."

"Sounds good!" I reply with a smile, with which he returns one of his own before putting the car in drive and pulling away from my apartment building.

Things are going well today. Really well. We're having fun and Luke is being as sweet as always. However, that's the only problem. Despite the stance I took in the argument with my friends, I can't help but let their words get to me. The whole evening, I've been reading too deeply into every little thing he does. Every door he holds open for me, every chair he pulls out for me, every accidental brush of our hands when we walk side-by-side. I'm trying not to let it show, but when Luke's voice rattles my thoughts and pulls me back down to Earth, I know I'm failing.

"Are you okay?" He asks as we sit in the car, waiting for the red light to turn green. "You've been pretty quiet today."

"Really?" I ask, genuinely confused because I hadn't noticed that change in my behavior. When he responds with a solemn nod, guilt rises in my chest. "I'm sorry. I didn't realize I was. It has nothing to do with you." Yet it has everything to do with him.

"Did something happen?" He pushes further.

"No, just have a lot on my mind with work and all, but I'm okay. Promise." I give him a soft smile in hopes that it will give him enough reassurance to drop the conversation. Thankfully he does, but the look in his eyes shows clearly that he doesn't believe me. "So my friends were telling me that you have a home game coming up in a couple of days against your oldest brother's team. Are you excited?" I change the subject quickly.

"Yeah," He nods, a smile gracing his features. "My parents are gonna be in town to watch us face off against each other. All three Hughes brothers on the same ice. I'm hoping it will be as exciting as everyone and the media are making it seem." He chuckles. "I'm also just really excited to see Quinn. We haven't gotten to see each other much since I moved out to Jersey and the season started. I think it'll be nice to have us all back together again, even if it's just for a couple of days."

"I bet it will be."

"I'm glad you brought this up because I've been meaning to ask you something."

"What is it?"

"Would you maybe want to come to the game?"

"Do you want me to come?" I'm praying the hopeful look in my eyes isn't obvious.

"Yeah," He nods. "I really do."

"Then I'll be there." I assure him. "The girls were talking about purchasing tickets anyways, so I'll tell them to make it three tickets instead of just the two."

"Don't worry about it. I got it covered."

"Luke, you don't have to do that." I shake my head, readying myself to argue.

"I know I don't have to, but I want to." The look he gives me makes me forget any rebuttal I had previously prepared. "Plus, I already got the tickets and the seating arrangements set up."

"And you just knew I was gonna say yes?" I reply, crossing my arms.

"No, but I was hoping you would."

"I guess some dreams really do come true." I joke.

"I guess so."

We continue to talk and joke around for the remainder of the drive. It goes by a little too quickly though, because before I know it, he's putting the car in park in front of my building. Being the gentleman that he is, he walks me all the way up to my apartment door. It's not until I have unlocked and opened the door that he finally says goodnight, placing a soft peck on my cheek before walking away. Once he has disappeared into the elevator and I'm sure he's gone, I close and lock the door.

As I'm getting ready for bed, I become aware of the slight ache in my cheeks from smiling so much. As soon as my head hits my pillow, the realization dawns on me. I am in love with Luke Hughes.

• ───────────────────────────── •

I'm still in shock at the fact that he really went all out with the tickets. My friends seem to be as well considering that they still haven't managed to pick their jaws up off the floor yet. Never in my life would I have ever expected to be seated in one of the arena's luxury suites. I feel a little bad the more I dwell on it. There are more deserving fans that could be sitting here, yet some girl who knew nothing about the sport two months ago had them handed to her at no cost.

"Hi, you must be Y/N." An unfamiliar woman's voice pulls me from my pity-party.

"Oh, hi." I greet her as I turn in her direction.

"I'm Luke's mom, Ellen." She smiles and pulls me into a quick but gentle embrace. "And this is my husband, Jim." She gestures to the man beside her.

"Nice to meet you, Y/N." He offers a hand for me to shake.

"You as well." I accept it before introducing them to my two friends, who are not-so-discreetly eavesdropping on the conversation.

We all find a seat and fall into casual conversation. Just getting to know each other and talking about this, that, and the other. Once the teams begin to make their way onto the ice, our attentions shift away from each other and onto the players.

Having admitted to my lack of knowledge of the sport before the game started, Jim and Ellen kindly explained the game to me so I would know what is going on. By the end of the first period, I'm clued in enough that I don't need it anymore and eventually, I become just as immersed in the game as the rest of them are.

It's in the second period that Luke scores a goal and we all stand up, cheering loudly with the crowd. The excitement is so high that I don't even shy away when Ellen happily pulls me into a tight hug before pulling away and continuing to cheer for her youngest son. Third period seems to go by in a flash and then the game is ending with a 6-5 win for the Devils, both Jack and Luke having contributed to the score with goals of their own.

Once the final buzzer goes off, my friends bid their farewells before heading out to go home. However, I hang back with Ellen and Jim upon the request of Luke. I follow the two down from the suite until we make it to where the locker rooms are located, waiting in the hall for the three brothers to emerge. We stand around conversing for about ten or so minutes before the men finally make their appearances.

They all embrace and greet each other as I stand back and watch with a smile. They really are a beautiful family. Once they all break away, Luke turns his attention towards me. He steps forward and reaches for me, pulling me into his arms.

"Congratulations." I speak softly as I wrap my arms around his broad shoulders, his wrapped around my waist.

"Thank you." I can hear the smile in his voice.

Time escapes me as I stand in his arms. I'm not even sure how long we've been holding onto each other. It's his brother's voice that finally has us separating.

"You must be the infamous Y/N." Quinn steps up, a smug grin on his face. "I've heard so much about you."

"I've heard a lot about you as well," I respond politely, despite the blush I'm sure I'm sporting due to his teasing tone. "It's nice to finally meet you."

"Will you be joining us for dinner?" Ellen asks from where she stands, now next to Quinn.

"Oh, um," I look to Luke for an answer. He nods, a pleading look in his eyes. "Yes, I would love to." I finally reply.

With that being said, we all begin to exit the arena and head to the parking lot. We're almost to the vehicles when Luke gently grabs my hand and pulls me to a stop. Once his family is out of earshot, he begins to speak.

"This might seem random and sudden, but I've been thinking about it for a while." He starts, looking away nervously and lifting a hand to scratch the back of his neck. "And feel free to say no because I don't want you to feel like you have to say yes just because I'm asking. Or if you feel like you need time to think it over, feel free to take all of the time you need. Actually, maybe I-"

"Luke," I say his name softly, placing my hands on his reddening cheeks and forcing his gaze back to mine. His rambling comes to a halt. "Breathe."

"Sorry." He inhales deeply before releasing his breath. "I was wondering, would you be my girlfriend?"

It's my turn to take a deep breath. Out of all the things he could have said, I was not expecting this. I take a moment to gather my thoughts as a smile begins to pull at my lips.

"I would love to." I nod, my smile growing larger resulting in his own.

"Well," He takes a step closer to me. "Since you're my girlfriend now, does that mean I can kiss you?" His question flusters me but I try hard not to show it.

"Do you want to kiss me?"

"Really fucking badly."

"Then kiss me, Luke."

And so he does. His lips crash into mine in a soft but passionate kiss. As if he has waited a lifetime to do it. It's gentle yet desperate. As we finally part, he pecks my lips a few more times before pulling away completely. He opens his mouth to say something but is stopped by Jack shouting from where his family is waiting by the cars, surely having seen the whole display.

"If you two lovebirds are done sucking faces in the middle of the parking lot, I would like to leave now. I'm fucking starving." He teases.

We both turn our gazes in time to see Quinn smack the middle brother in the back of the head and both parents shaking their heads at their son's antics. Luke chuckles at the scene as he intertwines his hand with mine and begins to walk to the car. My heart flutters as I finally admit the obvious to myself. Maybe we weren't ever just friends. I mentally roll my eyes as I climb into the back seat, already picturing the two squealing girls in my head and the endless amounts of I told you so's that I'm sure to hear when I fill them in. However, when Luke slides into the car next to me and interlocks our hands once again, I can't bring myself to care. I think I like this little life.

#luke hughes #luke hughes imagine #luke hughes x reader #new jersey devils #lh43 #luke hughes fluff #luke hughes fic #nj devils #nhl imagine #nhl fanfiction #isa.writes

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gayraeofsun · 3 months ago

Text

i just really want to scream about this movie into the void because it was so well done, and i doubt anyone will really see this but i don't really have anyone i could have a deep discussion about this with.

trigger warning and spoiler warning ahead for the movie blink twice. content ahead discusses themes around sa, including r*pe, drugging, manipulation, and general physical/verbal abuse.

i don't keep up with any previews or recent movie releases much anymore, so i was going into this movie almost completely blind like i do with most new movies anymore. i had seen one preview, but it was apparently plain and simple enough for me to mostly forget about it. the irony in that will be made known a bit later on.

the movie automatically opens with a screen that displays a trigger warning, which is something that i had been seeing for the first time in any kind of visual media. normally these things are already listed by the ratings, but as a sa survivor who had no idea what this movie was going to be, it was a good thing to see so i could brace myself for what was to come. do i think this is necessary for any and every movie of this kind? no, it feels a little redundant (again, these things are typically included in the ratings). and, well, asking me to not watch if it would upset me is kind of a no deal, since i paid for a ticket and popcorn to see this on the big screen.

we're immediately introduced to our two main characters, two best friends, and it's hard to not immediately fall for their relationship with each other. so playful and silly and ridiculous, you can immediately tell they adore each other's company in their shitty job living in their shitty apartment, and you can tell that they're written by a woman who loves these characters and wants to portray them as relatable people. the interactions between the whole cast of girls, i think, was just outstandingly done. they felt realistic, not constantly shitting on each other and fighting for the attention of the men (though some jealousy of that fashion is still portrayed). they were all there enjoying the island and they ended up bonding together wonderfully. they were funny without being over-the-top rude or nasty or promiscuous, as is portrayed commonly in female characters in popular media. i can't and won't stop gushing over how much these characters felt just like real life girls that i was hanging out with.

this movie was really great at putting a pit in your stomach and slowly making it grow. of course, the trigger warning at the beginning spoils what's to come, so for me the pit was there from the start. any sensible person who's been socialized to be a woman will know, you don't ever just run away with some random ass group of men you don't know to the middle of nowhere with no cell service. but the little things that make the main character, frida, stop and question are so subtle, and so easily dismissed to start with. the used lip gloss in the drawer, the available clothes despite being an "unexpected" guest, the weird cleaning staff. but they increasingly get more odd. the island is full of venomous snakes and they all have to be killed on sight. something about these flirty interactions isn't quite right anymore, and he's talking about repressed memories. what day even is it? why am i always waking up with dirt under my nails?

who even knows or cares though, since we're all high and/or drunk 24/7. welcome to paradise!

it builds and builds until it begins to unravel, slowly and then all at once as the girls come to the realization of what happens to them every night when they get unbelievably high after dinner. the bond between the first two to piece it together was outstanding, and i love that there wasn't a cheap "find the phones and call authorities" plan. they worked out why that wouldn't work at all, because who would they believe? the "hysterical bitches" making claims without any kind of solid evidence, or the rich white man who's now a reformed soul and probably good friends with some of the cops?

the ending is not a happy one, in my eyes, though i believe it was probably supposed to be portrayed as one? two girls live and three girls die by the end. the ringmaster (ceo) of the whole thing ends up accidentally taking his own forgetfulness juice and suddenly doesn't understand what's going on and why all his friends are dead or have been otherwise brutalized. he knocks over lit candles and then trips and knocks himself out in his stupor, and the island burns down, the photographic evidence (that was later discovered) and all. i thought it was just going to end there and we would be left with the ambiguous ending, and that's never satisfying and feels very overdone anymore.

but instead, we're given a scene where our main character is now the ceo of the company, and legally married to the man who lured her away and horrifically abused her. twice. i interpreted this as her getting her own form of justice/revenge. i doubt she gives him half the treatment he gave her, but now she controls him and everything he owns and knew, and gets every bit of respect she wants. he killed her best friend and two other girls after overpowering the lot of them every single night. in a perfect world, he'd get tried and punished for his crimes legally. but all the evidence of it ever happening burned to the ground. so this is what she does to cope. in the final scene, she seems very satisfied, more than pleased to make her new husband's old crew squirm. she becomes the thing that destroyed her and so many others (but yk, most likely without the rapist cult).

one character i very suddenly grew interested in was the scrawniest boy in the group. he flies perfectly under the radar and doesn't appear in many of scenes that portray the gruesome sa. the one where he's in clear view, he appears to be another victim, trying to flee from one of the bigger men and receiving a black eye, which he would have no memory of getting the next morning. he's told by one of the girls that he smells nice, most likely referencing the perfume that was making them forget everything. it seemed very clear that he was in a victim role here as well, likely also being sa-ed. but he's never seen bound and gagged with the girls.

his final scene gets interesting when the ceo berates him for doing nothing to help the girls the entire time (yeah, the same ceo millionaire who's been basically orchestrating this whole sick fucking show in his perfect little getaway island). how he thinks there's a special place in hell for people who sit and do nothing in the face of evil. there are two very different ways to interpret this. 1) he wasn't actually getting drugged and abused with the girls, and was there as someone who didn't actively participate in abusing the girls, but also didn't do anything to try to stop it either. this could be blatant commentary on the two types of evil; while "not all men" r*pe and abuse people, not enough men will speak out against it or try to run to the victim's defense. or 2) the ceo was casting blame onto someone who was genuinely confused as to what was happening (which seems to ring true in both scenarios), and someone who was also a victim and stuck in a completely helpless situation. both could hold some level of truth, but ultimately i read him as the latter, thinking he was meant to represent the less common male victim. he gets killed by one of the girls, who wasn't specifically targeting him but also wasn't taking any chances, and that's the last we see of him. in my eyes he could either be read as the kind of evil that merely observes and therefore was rightfully murdered, or he could represent his male victims often get forgotten about or less acknowledged, which could speak as to why he was killed off so quickly never to be discussed again.

and i've gotta say, one thing i really appreciate about the scenes depicting r*pe is that it put a lot of the focus on the r*pists and not their victims. they were careful to not show any nudity or any shots of the women getting r*ped, but still showed them getting forced down when they tried to flee. i have not personally seen any other graphic scenes of this nature in other movies, but from what i hear a lot of it can get rather pornographic, and i feel like that's incredibly distasteful when you're trying to depict something that's absolutely vile. this movie does a great job of getting the absolute terror of the moment across without compromising any of the actresses by posing them seductively or showing off their bodies, and same goes for the men (if you don't count a couple of them being shirtless).

the writing is so wonderful, and the little clues as to what's happening beneath the surface are so good and plentiful. this is a movie that i don't think i'd ever be able to sit through again, but the sense of dread that continued to grow and grow will surely stick with me. it was very darkly funny in many places, which did great to break up some of the tension. for anyone who was able to stomach it, i would highly recommend watching through it once you're able. i think it was outstandingly well done and handled certain things as well as it could without watering any of it down.

#blink twice #reviews #tw: sa #tw: r*pe #tw: abuse #tw: drugs #tw: substance abuse #i went through the trouble of censoring the r word just in case #apologies if it throws off the vibe or comes off as immature or w/e

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halemerry · 1 year ago

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On the Bookshop, the Concept of Home, and Going Too Fast

So, weirdly enough, I want to start with a scene that has very little to do with the actual Bookshop: 1967. We get Crowley planning a heist and being interrupted by an angel clutching a thermos full of holy water and promising that someday, maybe, they could let themselves have the life they want together. And we get that line. You know the one. You go too fast for me.

This one line of dialogue went a very long way to cementing the fanon perception of their roles in the relationship as we've largely been shown them - Crowley gently pushes and gives Aziraphale space to slowly feel comfortable setting his own boundaries or adjusting his worldview. And I’m not saying this is wrong - it’s definitely what we're primed to expect in their pattern - but I do think it ignores a fairly common variation of their pattern. See, sometimes, Aziraphale is actually the faster of the two of them - he's just not quite as flashy about it.

Crowley very rarely actually does any pushing without getting some kind of signal from Aziraphale first. Aziraphale, whether consciously or otherwise, quite frequently is the player making the first move on their metaphorical chess board. We see that he's the first to push for them to work together in the story of Job. We see that he's the first to invite Crowley to socialize together in Rome. We see as early as the Globe that Aziraphale has discovered and weaponized how to ask Crowley for things with a simple look and that Crowley has gotten very good at reading those asks. We actually see this dynamic in real time as Aziraphale drops signals to Crowley on how he should form his deception of the angels in the Book of Job. Even the Arrangement itself is something Crowley doesn't push for until he knows explicitly that Aziraphale isn't happy with the terms of his work. In other words, Aziraphale sets a cue, Crowley picks up on it and adapts.

So what does this have to do with the Bookshop?

Well. The Bookshop is a prime example of Aziraphale getting there faster. Because the bookshop, whether he knows it at the time or not, is absolutely a nest.

Nesting is behavior typically associated with birds, but is actually something lots of animals do. Even humans exhibit this behavior to some degree. It’s functionally gathering a bunch of stuff to create a safe, comfortable place, typically constructed for the purpose of raising children or attracting a mate. In other words: the creation of a home.

Because the Bookshop is their home. It is their safe space and sanctuary. It is a space for them to meet and just Exist without worrying about being seen. A home base where they can just Be themselves. It’s a constant in a world ever shifting around them. It’s a place for them to come back to. A place that will always be waiting for them both. And a place that they both have to be able to check in on each other. This is why the Bookshop burning hit as hard as it did. Their home was destroyed in fire and flame. And they both know it. Every expression and shift in tone when they talk about it speaks to the gravity of that loss - even if it was only temporary. And I think it was always intended to be just that on some level from the very start.

So timeline wise the closest scene we know about to Aziraphale starting his plans for the shop is the scene at the Globe. This takes place in 1601 and features the two of them being very conscious of being seen and the potential consequences thereof. They pick going to the Globe expecting it to be busy enough to blend into the crowd and Aziraphale's objection re the Arrangement has shifted onto the idea of Hell destroying Crowley.

It is less than a century later that Aziraphale buys the land that will eventually become the bookshop. In 1630 he purchases the land with his own money. That’s his money. Money that he made mostly the human way. Although this space would eventually become an embassy to Heaven it was made via earthly means. It’s his, not Heaven’s. Less than 30 years after we first see them express concern for how dangerous it would be to be seen Aziraphale starts making a space for them to retreat to.

And he does it slowly. He spends decades slowly buying up the land in the area. In fact, it’s nearly 200 years before the Bookshop will be ready to open. By the time we hit the Bastille, he’s clearly decided on a bookshop and has clearly told Crowley all about it. They’re comfortable with each other and already trust each other to a frankly absurd degree. Aziraphale risks discorporation on the sure thing that Crowley will know he’s in danger and come save him just because he wants to see him. In other words, by the time they’re at the point where they’re making elaborate excuses to see each other, Aziraphale is less than a decade away from naming the home he has been carefully making for himself A.Z. Fell and Co.

The and Co is important here for obvious reasons. We all know there’s only one person that it could be referring to. Even as Aziraphale is still denying that they are friends, he is plastering the idea that they are a unit all over the front door of his home long before even he realizes that what he is feeling for Crowley is love.

This is part of why the conversation about ‘our car, our bookshop’ comes much easier to Aziraphale. And it is an easier jump for him to make. He's the one that brings it up and he does it quite casually. He's testing the waters a bit, but is confident the conversation will go his way. Of course we have a car. Just as we have a bookshop.

The thing is I don't think Crowley ever really got that memo on a conscious level. We can see his relationship to the shop shift in the way he moves around the shop shifts over time. The earliest we see him in the shop itself is 1941. It's night time which gives the whole thing a bit of clandestine air, which is fitting for where they're at on the timeline. He stays mostly in one spot in his shots here, sort of hovering about the shop not getting too close to Aziraphale but not drifting out on his own either. He also stays as close to sitting normally as we tend to see Crowley ever sit and his glasses stay on. Which that's not to say he doesn't relax at all. He takes off his hat and make himself comfortable and, most telling, doesn't bother with fixing his glasses when they slip off his nose. He's comfortable and familiar here but it's in a strained sort of distant way. There's trust there, for sure, but he is clearly a visitor in this space.

The next we see of Crowley in the shop is the mid 2000s. It's still night time. His glasses stay on until he's drunk and the he takes them off of his own accord. He moves about the shop, touching various objects and leaning against various pillars and shelves and furniture. He's more comfortable here, but he still he needs a bit of alcohol in his system to get there.

We then see him briefly in the daytime after they realize they have lost the Anti-Christ. The glasses stay on here and alcohol is notably present. And then we do not see him in the shop again until it is burning. All and all most our shots of the bookshop from season one are Aziraphale alone moving about his space. We know Crowley's there enough that his smell lingers in the place, but we don't actually see that much of it beyond those first tom scenes.

Season 2 couldn't be more different in this regard.

Crowley moves in and out of the bookshop as it suits him. At one point he wanders off in the middle of Aziraphale zoning out in a memory without bothering to shake Aziraphale out of it. We even get him doing what is functionally a bird courtship dance right here in the middle of the shop. Aziraphale in turn takes active steps to get Crowley into the shop whether it's leaving him to watch it while he's gone or suggesting that Crowley likes waiting in the shop for him - a thing Crowley does not outright deny beyond objecting to Gabriel's presence there.

And we get a lot of Crowley in the shop this season- both with and without Aziraphale. And regardless of Aziraphale's presence, Crowley's behavior doesn't really shift too much. He's moving around the shop far more that we've ever seen him historically and he spends half that time sprawling on the furniture like it's his.

And, of course, nearly every time we see him enter the Bookshop to engage with Aziraphale, the glasses come off.

He lets his face stay exposed in the shop, even eventually in front of Gabriel. The only other place we've ever seen him take his sunglasses off by his own choice are in his own flat or when he's trying to make a point about his own nature. Even when he's engaging with Hell, so long as he's not grabbed unexpectedly, he has them on. Crowley wears them around people well before sunglasses had technically even been invented. But not here. Not anymore. Not in this story that is framing the bookshop as a literal safe haven.

Even the palette for the Bookshop this season speaks volumes. Now Season 1 in general is a little grayer than Season 2 (this is in part because of the general aesthetics of when they were made and in part because of the difference in tone between the two seasons) and it's very very noticeable in the shop itself. Here's some side by sides of similar areas of the shops between two seasons, I bet you could guess which was which based on the colors themselves.

The palette season 1 suits Aziraphale just fine. It's more neutral tones like he tends to favor on himself. It's still cozy but in a dusty sort of way. The palette of season 2 is warmer. Less white and more orange to the point where even the pillars holding up the bookshop are more vibrant. There's more natural light and we see it more often during the day. It's a warm, shared, space now. They both get plenty of use out of it.

And Crowley now looks like he fits there too. The shift in his palette makes him feel in conversation with the bookshop in a way his season 1 red can't quite mesh with the more washed out palette. I won't repost all these images I was going feral over last night but you can find a lot of shots of him in the shop windows here that really show the ways he works with the colors of the shop.

So why hasn't Crowley moved in officially if he's practically done so already?

Because this is their whole problem in a nutshell. It's a prime example of the way their pattern doesn't work anymore. It's not built for a world like this. Its built for a world where they have to hide and make excuses. And while being free of that is objectively good it also means they have none of that to hide behind anymore. Subtext doesn't have to be subtext anymore and that can be as scary as it can be exciting. Freedom from things like Heaven and Hell can be hard when that's all you've ever known. This is all new territory for them. The meaning of what home can be to them shifts a lot in a space where they can more or less do as they like.

Aziraphale doesn't need to be indirect about what he wants anymore but can't quite figure out how to be more direct in the asking. He's ready but can't quite parse how to say that out loud. Or why he would even need to when he's been saying it quietly for more than a century. He built a shop full of human knowledge into a safe haven for the demon that fell for asking questions. He invited Crowley into the shop on day one, just like everything else he loves. He's already left the door open for Crowley to come and go as he pleases and as far as he's concerned Crowley has already half moved in anyway. From his perspective he's already set a large blinking neon sign up that says 'this is your home too'.

Crowley, for his part, can't read this cue. Not without thinking about going to fast or starting a battle with his own sense of self worth. He's been in keep them alive mode for so long I'm not even sure he really knows how to let himself have needs outside of that on any conscious sort of level. There's nowhere to push if you don't have an endgame. And even if he did have one the last explicit boundary he had established by Aziraphale was telling him to slow down.

But I do think they both realize this. Crowley grumbles about what's the point from the start of his first scene and of course eventually does take a shot at expressing his wants. Aziraphale's fixation on the Ball comes into play here too. He says they allow humans to realize they have misunderstood each other and that they're actually in love. Which is just flat out their whole problem summarized for us nice and neatly.

They're not understanding each other. They haven't had the conversations they need to have. But they are trying. They still trying, even if they don't understand the ways each other is doing so. And at the end of this season even as they are separated again, the nest still stands. And, maybe the next time we get to see them, they'll decide it's in good hands right now and start building another nest together in in South Downs, but, no matter what, the shop is still home. And even if it is a place they have lost each other twice, there is no doubt in my mind that it is a place they will find each other again.

#good omens #gos2 spoilers #good omens spoilers #good omens season 2 #good omens meta #the Bookshop #az fell and co #aziraphale #crowley

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jamdoughnutmagician · 1 month ago

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Not whilst Teddie's around (18+)

Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Warnings:Fluff, Smut (but like the softest sweetest mushy-gushy kind) cock-waming, kissing, cuddling, horror movie mentions

Word count:1,705

writing this fic was an UPHILL BATTLE, so I'm sorry for the questionable quality, but it's finished at least.

Eddie Muson Masterlist // Main Masterlist

divider by @strangergraphics

“Dude, I’m telling you, horror movies get chicks wetter than you can even imagine. Trust me.” Gareth swears downing the last few sips of his beer.

“Yeah right, like any girl in her right mind would let you come within a ten-foot radius of her, let alone get close enough to get all up in her ‘sex-o-sphere’” Jeff laughs incredulously at his friend.

It was the way that all Corroded Coffin jam sessions ended, with a few beers and typical guy talk.

“You know Cindy Nolan? Works down at the roller-rink? We’ve been hanging out, and I rented Friday The 13th the other night, let me tell you that that girl couldn’t get any closer to me if she tried.”

“Yeah right, you’re full of shit Emerson.” Brandon said, shoving his friend with a nudge of his elbow.

“No, no, come on now, let’s hear him out. Maybe you two girlfriend-less losers could learn a thing or two from him.” Eddie says, shushing Jeff and Brandon’s guffawing. Truthfully, Eddie himself was eager to hear what Gareth had to say. Not that he thought he needed any help with his love-life, far from it, actually. His relationship with you was perfect in his eyes, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t learn a thing or two.

“So we're watching the movie right? and it gets to the real scary bit, the music's all tense and shit, and she's pressed up against me, tucking her face into my shirt, and that's when I make my move.” Gareth says, throwing up finger guns.

“Your move?” Eddie asks with a raised brow.

“Yeah, the ol’ ‘yawn-and-stretch’, I fake a yawn and then I stretch my arm around her shoulder. Then to really sell it, I hit her with the ‘don't worry, I'll protect you from the scary serial killer.’ spiel. From then on, she's practically eating out the palm of my hands. Horror movies, I'm telling you guys, are the way to go.”

Both Jeff and Brandon hold their hands up in defeat.

And all that was on Eddie’s mind was that he was definitely going to have to swing by Family video to check out their selection of horror movies.

You rounded your way into the living room with the freshly popped bowl of popcorn getting ready to settle next to Eddie under the throw blankets on the couch.

“So what movie did you pick up for tonight?” you asked, reaching for a handful of popcorn.

He flashes you the vhs cover, a jack-o-latern pumpkin with a knife. He gives you a wide and boyish smile as his deep brown eyes sparkle with a cheeky glint. Tonight was the night that he was going to put Gareth’s claim to the test. He had swung by Family Video right after band practice and slapped Halloween tape down on the counter, causing Steve to roll his eyes and let out an annoyed huff. Oh yeah, Eddie had his plan all figured out.

“Jamie Lee Curtis is an absolute force to be reckoned with in the movie.” he says, reaching over to steal a few pieces of popcorn out of your hand.

This is where your tastes in movies differed from Eddie’s. You were more John Hughes, where the laughs were aplenty and the guy got the girl, whilst Eddie was much more John Carpenter, where the screams were aplenty and the killer got their victim.

But despite horror movies not being totally your thing, you were willing to sit and watch if it made Eddie happy.

Snuggled up to Eddie, with the soft blankets keeping you both cosy, he pressed play on the movie.

You wish you could say that you weren't scared, but then you would be lying. Laurie Strode was certainly a much braver woman than you could ever be, because the very idea that Michael Myers was still on the loose sent a shiver down your spine in the worst way. It didn't matter how much you tried to reason with yourself that it was just a film, and that it wasn't real, the scared and uneasy feeling had your heart pounding against your chest as you tucked your face into Eddie's shirt. Hoping that hiding away in the familiar comfort of your boyfriend would go someway to quell the racing of your heart.

Eddie felt terrible. Scratch that, he felt worse than terrible. He felt like the worst boyfriend in the world. As the tense music in the movie swelled, more and more he felt you shrink into yourself and tuck yourself away into his chest. You were scared and it was his fault.

Flicking the remote at the tv to pause the film Eddie softly turns his attention to you.

“Hey, you know we don’t have to watch this if you don’t like it.” he says, brushing a stray hair from your face.

“But I know you like this film, so I thought we could watch it together.”

“Sweetheart, you've had your face hidden in my shirt for almost the past hour, it's okay if you're scared, I'm not going to be mad at you.”

“I'm sorry Teddie, I just really don't like scary films.”

“Come on, nothing’s going to hurt you, not whilst Teddie’s around.” Eddie says, flicking the tv off and throwing the blankets off your bodies before taking your hand in his. “How about we head off to bed, where we can snuggled up and I can keep you safe in my arms.”

Cuddled into Eddie’s chest, his arms wrapping around you protectively, you feel his lips softly kiss the crown of your head. It’s safe, it’s comforting, it’s everything that you need right now, but somehow it still doesn’t feel like enough.

Eddie feels you squirming in his hold and so he rubs his hand up and down your back in his best attempt to ease you.

“What’s going on with you, huh? You’re still scared about that movie?”

Wordlessly you nod your head, feeling so stupid for letting a fictional murderer frighten you like this.

“You know I’m not going to let anything happen to you right? I’d fight Michael Myers a hundred times over if it meant keeping you safe.”

“Just want to be close to you tonight.” you say softly, as you looked up at him from underneath your eyelashes.

“Yeah? You mean close to you like this?” he says softly as his hands began to wander underneath your oversized sleep-shirt. Underneath your shirt where your skin is soft to his touch. Soft and warm, and the sweet scent of your coconut body wash still lingers on your skin.

“Wanna feel you, please..” You plead, your eyes almost sparkled in the cosily-lit bedroom.

As if he could ever say no to you.

Reaching down between your closely pressed bodies he stroked a hand over himself, already half-hard, because truly it didn't take much to get him excited. Everything about you drove him wild, and just the intimacy of getting hold you close in his arms stirred a growing heat in the pit of his stomach.

He works on taking his boxers off, whilst you work on sliding your panties down your legs and once there is nothing separating you from him he slides himself into you. Filling you slowly to just let you feel every inch of him. Eddie knew that you loved feeling him like this, loved the feel of him inside you. Two bodies moving together as one. Your leg hitched up around Eddie’s slim hips, with your heel pressing into his backside, urging him closer and closer to you.

“This what you wanted, Sweetheart?” Eddie’s voice rasps out as his lips kiss just below your ear, finding that steadily racing pulse point in your neck. “Just wanted to be close to me, isn’t that right?”

You nod against Eddie’s chest, moaning softly when he shifted his hips ever so slightly.

Eddie manoeuvred around with you in his arms laying you down on the bed, caged safely underneath him.

“You're so beautiful.” He smiles, brushing a stray hair from your face, his deep brown eyes so entirely focused on you. You're the centre of his universe, there's not a moment that he's not thinking about you. And there's no place he'd rather be than right here with you.

Slowly he rolls his hips into you with deep, steady strokes. Drawing back just enough until his tip remains, before sliding himself home into your heat.

Your breath is stolen from your lungs every time Eddie fills you. Playing your body in the perfectly precise way that only he knew how.

Your nails leave little red half-moon crescents in the pale skin of his shoulders as you hold him close, for fear that if you didn’t you might float off into a universe. The calming warmth of Eddie’s skin on yours is the thing that always grounds you to reality. His touch feels like home.

His skilled fingers reach down between your closely pressed bodies to rub eager circles around your clit.

“Just want you to feel good, pretty girl.” his praises rumbled from the back of his throat, heavy with adoring desire.

Your quiet whines turn into breathy moans with every roll of his hips, whilst his deep groans of pleasure are muffled into kisses pressed to the column of your throat.

“I’m close, Teddie..” you manage to get out between unsteady breaths.

“I know, pretty girl, I got you.” he kisses your lips sweetly.

With a few more well-precisioned thrusts he takes you over the edge of pleasure, guiding you through your shuddering high.

And with you looking every inch the goddess of his dreams splayed out underneath him, squeezing him through your orgasm it didn’t take very much before Eddie was stilling his movements, spilling his release into you with a shuddering moan of his own.

He held himself on his forearms above you to brush a thumb over your flushed skin.

“I told you, I’m not going to let anything happen to you. I’m going to keep you safe. Always.”

And you believed him. Because if it was one thing you knew with certainty, it was that Eddie Munson was a man of his word.

@penguinsandpotterheads @sweetdreamjellybean

@mrsjellymunson @eddiesxangel

@userchai @aphrogeneias @sidereustales

#Eddie Munson x reader #eddie munson x reader fluff #eddie munson x reader smut #eddie munson x female reader

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