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xzaddyzanakinx · 4 months

Text

Dear Diary

Emo!Anakin Skywalker x Femme reader Oneshot

Warnings: CNC, Dom/Sub, predator/prey, rape kink, unprotected PiV, misogyny, derogatory comments, knife, bondage, gagging, blood, whipping, spanking, spitting, slapping, biting, mask kink

Info: never leave your diary unattended, he loves you so much that he’ll do anything for you, don’t question why Anakin is so good at being scary (he’s straight up terrifying)

🕊DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT 🕊 This is DARK

“Hey, you know there’s something I’ve been wanting to talk to you about.” Anakin’s soft voice floated down to where your head rested in his lap on this sleepy Sunday afternoon.

“Mmm?” You hummed, tilting your head slightly to look up at his face.

You expected to see a soft expression to match the gentle tone of voice, but you were mistaken. His lip had a sneaky little curve to it, like he had a secret that he was dying to share. He reached his long arm over to the nightstand and opened the drawer. Fishing something out and holding it up for you to see.

Your diary. It wasn’t one of his secrets. It was yours.

You squealed in protest and shot up from your resting place much too fast. After being sedentary all day long your brain had a hard time remembering what it needed to do in a high-stakes situation. After the dizzy spell settled slightly you tried and failed to snatch that horrid little book away from him.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

You should’ve known better than to keep a written record of anything, let alone your darkest secrets, with Anakin around. That handsome little shit can’t keep his dirty little paws off of your or your stuff.

“Anakin please!” You pleaded, pouting out your bottom lip.

“Shhh baby.” He laughed, flipping through the pages. “I occasionally read a few pages… just to make sure you’re happy with me of course.”

Right. Of course he would do that.

“Cause sometimes you don’t like to talk about your feelings right?” He chided.

“Yeah.” You grumbled.

“And it seems like my sweet sweet girl had some dirty thoughts since the last time I checked this book.” A sickly saccharine smile materialized on his lips

“Anakin no!” You gasped, hiding your face in embarrassment.

“Bunny, yes!” He teasingly replied.

“Look, right here it is princess. About a month ago. I took you to that new horror movie remember?”

“Yes.” You squeaked.

Anakin nodded, clearing his throat as he ran his finger under the messy scribbles in your diary.

“You said: ‘that scene where he’s chasing her through the woods and caught her? Christ that growl was sinful, but coming from Anakin? I’d be a goner. Knife and all.’”

You blushed fiery red and snatched it from his hands, tossing it to the floor defiantly despite knowing the damage had already been done.

"Anakin that is none of your business!" You pouted.

"But it is now, isn't it?" He whispered, tracing circles on your throat with his thumb.

"It’s okay darlin’ I don’t need that silly little book. I’ve memorized the good parts.” He chuckled as he spotted it on the floor.

“What else did you say? 'I want him rough, maybe even have him wear a mask like in the movie.'” He grinned gripping your cheeks to puff out your lips and give you a playful kiss.

“So I said to myself: ‘Anakin, that sounds like a challenge.’ and you know I love a challenge.”

“Anakin! You weren’t supposed to see that!” You yelped. “That’s embarrassing!”

Anakin chuckled darkly, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "Oh no? I think I need to see this fantasy of yours come true."

He released your cheeks and stood up, rummaging through the closet until he found an old hockey mask that he'd worn during his youth.

"Stay here," he commanded before disappearing into the living room.

You sat and stewed in your embarrassment, thinking of all the ways you’d like to squeeze his tiny head until it popped off. How dare he? He read your diary! Ridiculous.

His voice called your name and you were snapped out of your emotional festering.

“C’mon. We got places to be.” Anakin grinned, the car keys in his hand and a small backpack slung over his shoulder.

“What?” You asked in confusion.

He wants to go somewhere now? After he’d just humiliated you in front of your entire collection of stuffed animals?

Anakin nodded, a devilish grin on his face. "We're going on an adventure, Bunny."

Oh. Oh no.

“You’re serious?” You gasped. “like right now?”

He tossed the backpack into the backseat of his Ford pickup truck and opened the passenger door for you, waiting for you to get in. He clicked his tongue like he was calling for a dog, patting your head to scoot you along.

"Come on, baby," he urged, leaning down to kiss your cheek. "Where we're going, no one can find us."

You blushed, but obeyed regardless. You trusted him with your life and depending on how this excursion went you might just end up putting that trust to the test.

“W-we don’t have to do this Ani.” You said quietly.

“I mean… I never even- I didn’t think you’d ever find out.”

Anakin's grin faded slightly, his eyes softening as he cupped your face. "Baby, it's okay. You don't have to do anything you're not comfortable with," he reassured you.

"I want to make this happen for you. Plus, I think this will be fun." He added with a smirk, the sincerity in his voice reflected in the icy blue of his eyes.

He climbed into the driver's seat, starting the engine and pulling out of your driveway.

“Like you’re sure you wanna do this? Like you actually want to? Not just because you know I wanna try it?” You asked, picking at your fingers as you forced myself to make eye contact.

Anakin met your gaze, his eyes filled with an understanding for your concerns. "I want this as much as you do, Bunny," he promised.

"So let's go have some fun, shall we?" he asked, pulling out onto the highway.

You slipped your hand into his, the drive was only about 30 minutes. Even with the short distance it seemed like you were far, far away from anyone and anything. The afternoon sun was dwindling quickly over the horizon. It made you wonder if Anakin had done alittle research and a lot of planning before enacting this ambush on you.

“Look at me bunny.” Anakin said softly.

“Safe word is red okay? You say red and every thing stops immediately. Understand?”

“Yes.” You nodded giving him a little smile.

“Good.” He agreed with a kiss to your forehead. His eyes bright and sparkling with this new brand of adrenaline. “Here’s the plan.”

“Once we get out of this truck, you’re the pretty little victim and I’m the big scary killer.” He teased, though he held a serious tone behind the playful words.

“Is that okay? I won’t talk like myself, I’m gonna do my best to be mean and scary okay?”

“Yeah that’s okay,” You blushed at the thought.

“I want you to run. I’ll give you a pretty good head start. Don’t look behind you until you hit the tree line okay?” He grinned.

“Okay I can do that.” You giggled, the reality of your situation kicking in as you began to realize Anakin *had* done his research. He really did want to do this just as much as you did.

“I’ve got a mask.” He pulled out the hockey mask from his bag. “A rope, a knife, and a bandanna. Are these things okay? It’s a real knife, it’s one of the kitchen knives.”

“Yeah.” You nodded, biting your lip as you looked at him, already imagining him in character. “yeah that’s all okay.”

“Do you want me to cut you?” He asked, staring you in the eyes.

“M-maybe alittle.” You nodded, your expression turned serious again. “just not where anyone else can see okay?”

“Got it babydoll. I promise.” He said gently.

“Okay.” You smiled, nervous but so so excited.

“I’m gonna put my hair up.” You giggled. Tying your hair up in a ponytail.

Anakin watched you, a mix of excitement and protectiveness in his eyes. "You look so fucking hot," he muttered, his voice low and rough.

"Alright, princess," he said, his voice now deep and menacing. He grabbed the hockey mask, and held it in your direction to point at you.

"Get out of the truck and run as fast as you can. Don't look back until you reach the tree line." He paused, reaching for the knife, sheathing it on his hip. Shoving the rope in his hoodie pocket, the bandanna in his jeans pocket.

"Remember, red means stop. Whatever happens from here on out, I'll make sure you're safe."

You watched him put the mask on, heart pounding in your chest as you unbuckled your seatbelt and stepped out of the truck into the cooling dusk air. Anakin got out of the truck on his side, looking over at you and nodding his head.

“Run.” He snarled, his features completely hidden by the mask and distorting his voice a bit more than you’d anticipated.

Your only light source was the setting sun and rising moon as you booked it through the field, keeping your eyes forward as your heart beat quickly. You reached the tree line and finally looked back, seeing Anakin running at a full sprint toward you. The prey instinct in your hindbrain kicked into overdrive and adrenaline flooded like ice through your veins.

You froze for a moment until you heard what could only be described as a psychotic laugh ripped through Anakin’s chest. Finally back to your senses you turned on your toes and started running again, only to be tripped by your own feet.

You steadied yourself quickly and recovered your pace after a sharp squeal left you when your knees hit the ground. Your burst of fear driven speed surprised you, but only fueled Anakin’s laughter. You weren’t sure if he was laughing as himself or as the character he was playing, either way… it was terrifying.

You made the mistake of looking back again and realized how quickly he was gaining on you. He had given you a generous headstart for a good reason. Like he’d anticipated you’d fawn instead of flee.

How did he know that?

Anakin was closing the gap, his breath heavy but not labored as he chased after you. You wondered what his eyes looked like behind that mask. Would they be familiar? Or would they be akin to a cold blooded killer?

You stumbled as you whipped your head back to the path ahead and he lunged forward, wrapping his arm around your chest and tackling you to the ground with a heavy thump.

The mask hid his grin as he pinned you down with his body weight, but you could * feel * it. The satisfaction he felt at catching his trophy was palpable, now… now you weren’t completely certain your Anakin was really there behind that hard plastic mask.

"Caught you bitch." He growled, his voice remained menacing. "You're mine now."

You struggled against him, the sides of your fists not even coming close to making contact with his chest. His grip on you was painful, bruising and just what you wanted.

“N-no!” You whimpered. So incredibly turned on by his aggression.

He was surprisingly great at this role, he was doing everything perfectly as if he’d done it before. A nagging thought tickled your mind, what if? But he gave you no time to consider it.

“No?” He laughed, rolling you underneath him so that your face was pressed into the forest floor. His knee pressing down on your back as he roughly tied your arms together behind your back with a practiced ease.

“No! Please!” He mocked you in a whiny impression of your voice.

“Pathetic.” He hissed.

You fought harder, wriggling and trying to get out of his grasp. His hand gripped your ponytail with enough force to make your scalp sting, yanking your head back.

“Stop fucking moving.” He growled as brought his lips to your ear, then he let go of your hair cruelly letting you face plant into the dirt.

“Ow!” You whined in pain, it actually did hurt. Not bad, just enough to make you see stars and feel heat bloom across your cheek.

“P-please! Stop!”

He laughed, the sound gritty and almost unrecognizable. He used both hands to roughly tug your jeans down your thighs, using the knife to cut your underwear off.

You wriggled and squirmed, panting helplessly as all your movement did was undress you further. Your jeans bunched around your knees, leaving you exposed and vulnerable to whatever he had planned for you.

Anakin's breaths were ragged, his heart pounding in sync with yours as he stood over you. Lightly tapping your hip with the toe of his shoe.

"Shut the fuck up, bitch," He snarled. "You made me work for it."

He took the knife, running it down your side, as he kneeled beside you. Forcibly turning your head to make you look at him. He trailed the knife along the back of your thighs, leaving tiny threads of red behind.

"Now you're gonna pay for your insolence." His voice was harsh and cold with an undeniable lust hidden beneath.

“No! No I’ll do anything I swear!” You cried out. Kicking and fighting against him as best as you could.

You heard him taking off his belt, felt him shoving his jeans down and even the familiar grunt as he pulled out his cock.

“I told you to shut your fucking mouth didn’t I?” He snapped at you.

Gripping his belt tightly in his hands he cracked the leather across your ass hard, causing you to scream out in pain.

“Stupid whore.” He scoffed. “what did I just say? You want it again?”

“N-no! Fuck that hurt!” You yelled.

“God you really are stupid aren’t you?” He laughed, cracking the leather down on your red ass cheeks again.

This time you were able to bite down on your lip and suppress the loud crying moan that tried to escape. You knew the tender flesh of your bottom lip would definitely be an angry red for the next few days as a taste of blood hit your tongue.

“That’s better.” He scoffed.

Pumping his cock a few times behind you before spreading your ass cheeks wide and smacking your hip hard to get you to lift up just a bit.

He set his sights on your incredibly drenched pussy. The view might make a weaker man cum on the spot, but Anakin wasn’t a weak man. He’d made that very clear today.

“Never seen you so fucking wet.” He whispered, in awe of the dripping mess you’d made of your cunt. The momentary break of character that you weren’t supposed to hear reassured you that it was definitely still Anakin under that mask.

Anakin's cock twitched, his eyes locked on your pulsing hole, watching it flutter around nothing. He chuckled and spit on his hand before rubbing it on the head of his cock. Letting out a low groan as he tugged on his balls for good measure.

"You're going to take this like a good little slut," He growled, lining up his thickness with your entrance. "And you're not going to fucking scream."

With a low hiss he thrust into you, your body protesting the sudden intrusion with a jerk. You failed to listen to his command and let out a muffled cry behind closed lips as he sank deep inside your heat.

"Quiet, bitch," he warned, pulling back and thrusting again, setting a rough rhythm. "Or I'll really give you somethin’ to cry about.”

You couldn’t help yourself, you whimpered and moaned and drooled in spite of his warnings. The feeling of being taken so roughly, but knowing you were safe… was intoxicating. It was unlike anything you’d ever felt.

Anakin moved suddenly and you saw a flash of red before he yanked back your head, shoving the bandanna in your mouth to use as a gag.

You coughed and gagged on the dry fabric as he forced it in your mouth. Anakin's thrusts became more frantic, his hips moving in quick, hard strokes. With the gag in place you let yourself be loud, there was no point in staying quiet right? If you were heard it would be * his * fault for not properly securing your gag.

"Dirty little thing aren’t you? Filthy. You like this don’t you!? Huh?" He snarled, slapping your ass hard with his free hand. "Scream for me, you fucking whore. No body can hear you. No body is coming to help you."

You moaned into the gag, body trembling as he pounded into you relentlessly. Each slap of skin against wetness echoed in the still night air, punctuating your defilement.

"C’mon, you can fight harder than that." He growled, grinding against you he placed one hand on your lower back and used it as leverage to hold you in place.

He laughed loudly, clearly enjoying the power trip he was on. He’d never fucked you like this before, he’d been rough yes… but this? This was blinding. Hot, white, blinding pleasure that spilled over into pain.

“So fucking tight.” He groaned. “pitiful little pussy. Bet you were a virgin weren’t you?”

You whimpered, the bandanna in your mouth wet from saliva. Tears dripping down your cheeks from his rough treatment. Your legs shaking violently as he fucked you into the dirt.

And he expected you to speak?

“Answer me.” He demanded, ripping the fabric from your mouth, the suddenness of it being pulled from your throat made you gag violently.

“C’mon. Talk to me. You’ve been dying to fucking talk and now you’ve got nothin’ to say?”

“Y-yes.” You sobbed, unable to form more than a few words. “Virgin.”

“Oh I knew it. Fuckin’ knew it.” He groaned.

Anakin's thrusts grew more furious, his cock sliding in and out of your tight ‘virgin’ pussy with each word grunt and groan that fell from his pretty lips. His hand gripped your hair, pulling your head back when you started squirming out from under him again.

"You think you can get away from me? Think you can run? You’re mine now, bitch." He spat, slapping the side of your face. "I own your little cunt now."

You cried harder from the pain, tears streaming down your dirt streaked face as he continued to pound into you without mercy.

"No one else is gonna touch you. No one else is gonna have you." He growled, his words thick with possession.

“Gonna take you home. Tie you up.” He grunted. “Fuck you whenever I want.”

“No one’s gonna miss you are they?” He laughed, “Just a worthless little nobody aren’t you? Yeah, you are.”

“That’s okay though sweetheart.” He cooed, sweetness laced with venom. “I want you. I want you all to myself, show you that all you’re good for is this.”

He spit, ripping his mask off to bite you hard, leaving clear teeth marks on your shoulder. The mask hit the ground near your head and you stared at it with big wide red-rimmed eyes as a violent orgasm ripped through you. Your cunt spasmed around him, slick leaking out and coating your thighs.

The squelching noises filled you with a new wave of embarrassment and fresh tears wetted your cheeks. You might’ve been done, but Anakin wasn’t. He had no plans of stopping now, this wasn’t over until he said it was.

“Stop! Please oh god.” You whined, scrunching your nose up as your body vibrated from the overstimulation.

“Stop? Oh you don’t mean that.” He moaned. “you just fucking creamed all over my cock.”

“Don’t lie to me. You know you like it.” He snickered, you could hear the grin gracing his lips.

“No! No! Please! I don’t!” You struggled, trying to get out of your bindings, the rope digging further into your wrists. “Please stop!”

“Fuck toys don’t talk.” He growled.

Anakin shifted his weight, now leaning with his forearm across your back, his sharp elbow cutting into the muscle to give himself an extra edge to his brutality. You thought he was comfortable in his position, but you were wrong. This was just a transition period.

His arm slid up your back to wrap your hair around his fist, exposing your neck and pining you in place.

A glint of sliver shined in your peripheral, followed by the cool metal blade of his knife on the soft skin of your throat. He had the flat side pressed firmly beneath your Adam’s apple. Anakin's thrusts grew more frantic, his cock sliding in and out of your tight, weeping pussy as he held the knife.

"One word," he growled, his eyes dark with lust and dominance. "And you’ll wish you were dead."

You whimpered, body shaking as you struggled against my bindings. Your cunt clenched around him, milking his cock with each powerful thrust.

"Make me cum, bitch." He snarled, his breathing labored. "Or I’ll slit your fucking throat right here."

His words sent a jolt of electricity through you. This was sick, you were sick. How could you possibly like this? Being threatened with a knife against your throat? You didn’t know, didn’t understand and maybe didn’t even want to. Maybe the logistics behind the thrill of this was better off unexplored. You decided then and there you would never let yourself explore that nagging little ‘what if’ about Anakin too.

His grip on the knife tightened, his thrusts becoming harder with each passing second. You controlled your breathing as best you could. Trying desperately not to move as another orgasm washed over your tired body. Your entire being vibrating with the intense energy, cunt spasming around his twitching member, leaking and dripping slick all over again.

“That's it," Anakin growled, his hips moving faster and harder, growing sloppy. His breathing ragged as he felt himself nearing the finish line. "C’mon, make me fucking cum and I’ll let you live."

"You're gonna say thank you after I cum. You hear me?" He snarled, biting the nape of your neck roughly like a dog in heat.

His balls tightened up, his cock pulsating inside you. Your pussy tightly enveloping him, feeling every twitch and jerk.

You squeaked as the cool blade dragged across your throat in a way that felt alittle too real, a little to close to being sliced open. Though you breathed a sigh of relief as the knife now pressed into your shoulder blade. The sharp tip popping through your skin.

“Gonna put a little ‘A’ right here. You want that? Answer me!” He asked through clenched teeth, staving off his orgasm in favor of torturing you.

“No! Please it hurts!” You screamed, the pain bringing you so incredibly close to cumming again.

He let out a familiar whine, followed by a choked moan as he carved the first letter of his name into your unblemished shoulder.

“You should’ve kept still. Now it’s crooked.” He scoffed.

You screamed out in pleasure, hiccuping as you tried to catch your breath. Anakin’s cock throbbing inside your abused walls. You whimpered as an overwhelming orgasm took hold of you. Your body convulsing in a way it never had before, with Anakin never slowing his hard albeit mess pace. He laughed as he watched your bound hands clasp themselves together as you held your breath.

The dam broke and you squirted, making a mess of yourself and him. You could feel the hot wet liquid dripping down your legs, hear it sloshing and squelching with each thrust.

Anakin’s laugh cut off into a choked groan, his cock jerking violently inside you as he came. His thrusts becoming wild and erratic, his body shaking with the force of his release.

"Fuck," he growled, collapsing against you as he finished. "You're a fucking mess, aren’t you?"

You sobbed into the dirt, body still trembling from the intense orgasm. Your pussy clenching around his softening cock, milking him for every last drop of cum.

"That’s right. Good girl.” He moaned, slowly pumping in and out of your swollen and well used cunt.

“Atta girl. You’re a good fuck so long as you keep your mouth shut.” Anakin let out a pained whine as he pulled out of you, leaving your pussy gaping and filled with his seed.

He cut the rope from your wrists and hissed when he saw the red marks. He broke character again for the simple fact that he felt terribly about accidentally hurting you. It was one thing to do it purposely, but this was unacceptable, he chided himself for tying you too tightly under his breath. He leaned down to kiss each wrist gently before tapping your ass with his hand.

“Get up. All fours.” He growled. Back to playing your big scary killer.

You sniffled, doing as he said as quickly as you could even though your body felt weak and jittery.

“Fuck.” He groaned spreading your ass cheeks apart, his thumbs keeping your pussy lips spread so that he could see his hard work; the mess he’d made of you.

He dove into your slick, reddened folds. His tongue laving and sucking your clit. He moaned and whined like he was the one getting pleasured. He shoved his tongue into your hot, raw hole and licked his cum out of you, mumbling dirty words with each breath.

"You taste so fucking good." He groaned, his voice muffled. "So wet and fuckin’ messy. I love it."

You whimpered, his tongue darting in and out of your still-throbbing cunt, tasting the evidence of your rough sex.

"You’re gonna be mine forever." He growled, his words slurred with lust. "No one else is ever gonna touch you again."

His fingers found your entrance, teasingly playing with it before sliding inside, stretching you open again. Your body trembled, pussy clenching around him in protest of his reentry. He leaned forward licking the trickles of blood from your shoulder and gathering it in his mouth. He sat back on his heels and then spit the mixture of his cum, his spit and your blood into your pussy, gently shoving it inside with his fingers.

The act was filthy. Disgusting. But so fucking hot, so sexy, so much so that your pussy contracted around his fingers again. Alittle bit of squirt dribbling out as your body shook. Anakin's eyes darkened as he felt you clench around his fingers once again.

"Fuck." He grumbled, hid grip on your hips tightening. "You’re gonna cum again, aren’t you?"

You sobbed, body trembling with the impending orgasm or maybe just from the humiliation. Who knows? At this point you couldn’t tell left from right.

"You just want to get used and ruined, don’t you?" He growled, his fingers thrusting in and out of you. "So fucking ready for it. So desperate for a cock like mine to take care of you."

His words sent you over the edge, body shaking as you came yet again. Your pussy fluttering around his fingers, dribbles of liquid leaking down his hand.

“N-no more.” You whimper, begging for a break.

“Oh poor thing.” He laughed. “it just feels so good that it hurts huh?”

“Y-yes.” You cried, sniffling. Your arms weak and wobbly.

“You’ll get used to it.” He said pulling out his fingers and roughly smacking your pussy with his hand.

You screamed, a choked whimpering sob. You were beyond sensitive, you could feel how swollen you were. But even through the pain, a jolt of pure pleasure shot through your core.

“Get up.” He growled, tucking himself back into his jeans, pulling you to your feet by the hair.

He shoved you against a tree and barked out the instruction for you to stay there. He picked up the knife and bandanna, kicking the ruined rope aside and shoving the ripped panties in his pocket. He grabbed his belt and cracked it against your ass hard one last time before putting his belt back on.

“You didn’t say thank you.” He reminded you.

“Say thank you. Ungrateful bitch.”

M’sorry!” You whimpered. “th-thank you. Thank you.”

“That’s better.” He grunted, yanking your jeans back up and leaving them unbuttoned. The fabric wet and sticky from all the abuse.

“Turn around. Can’t leave those gorgeous tits without any attention right?” He chuckled darkly.

He grabbed your chin examining your face when you slowly turned around. His other hand pulling up your shirt.

“Still pretty. Even after all that.” He said softly a small glimpse at your Anakin, not this brutal character he played. But it was gone quicker than you could blink.

"Beautiful." Anakin murmured, his eyes lingering on your tits before he leaned in to lick and kiss each one. "You’re gonna be so pretty covered in bruises, huh?"

Your breath hitched, nipples pebbling as he sucked and licked at them. His hands cupping and squeezing your breasts roughly, leaving red marks on the soft skin.

He bit down and pulled your nipples with his teeth causing you to yelp in pain. Eliciting a dark laugh from him.

“C’mon,” He grumbled. “let’s get going. I’ve got plans for my new whore.”

He grabbed the back of your neck and shoved you forward, making you stumble and almost trip. You stayed silent other than your sniffling and wiping your nose and eyes as you walked on jelly legs.

"Don't think you're done." Anakin growled, his grip on your neck tightening as you walked. "I’ll never be done with you."

His free hand grabbed your ass, squeezing it roughly before letting go. His eyes never leaving the path ahead.

"You owe me. You know that? A lifetime of obedience and gratitude." He laughed, pushing your forward again. “I could’ve killed you and I didn’t. That’s called a life debt baby.”

You nodded, seeing the truck in the field and breathing a sigh of relief knowing you wouldn’t have to walk much further.

“Almost there.” He said plainly.

Once you reached the truck he opened the door and helped you inside gently. Giving you a soft kiss on the cheek.

He walked around to his side and shoved the items along with his hockey mask down inside the bag. Tossing it to the floor board as he climbed in beside you, pulling you against his chest in a comforting, soothing hug. You sighed, leaning into him. His warmth and closeness comforting you.

"Good girl." Anakin whispered into your hair, his voice softening. He kissed the top of your head gently. "You did so good. I love you doll. I love you so so much."

"Hang tight, baby. We’ll get you cleaned up and back home soon enough." He murmured, his hand resting on your thigh reassuringly.

You gripped his shirt, there was something thrilling about his possessiveness, his control over you. “I love you too Ani.” You whispered, voice shaky.

Once the short drive was over he helped you out of his truck, turning around and leaning forward to give you a piggy back ride to the house.

You sighed thankfully and climbed up. Hugging around his neck and inhaling his comforting scent. Nuzzling into his neck as he carried you into your home. Locking the front door behind him. He softly sat you on the couch, giving you a gentle forehead kiss.

Wordlessly he went to the kitchen and got himself and you a glass of water. Placing the cup in your shaking hands, making sure you drank some before he chugged down his.*

“You okay babydoll?” He asked, pulling you into his lap. “that was pretty intense.”

“I-I’m okay.” You nodded. “y-yeah it w-was intense.”

You gave him a soft smile. “It was fun though… I’m just gonna be really, really sore.”

"You’re so fucking precious.” He murmured, nuzzling your neck. "All worn out and sore, but still smiling at me."

"We'll take it slow next time, okay?" He whispered in your ear, kissing your temple softly. "You tell me when you’re ready for sex again baby. I’m not gonna ask until you come to me.”

You nodded, sighing contentedly. Your head resting against his chest as he held you close, breathing slowly returning to normal.

“Are you glad I read your diary now?”

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upsidedownwithsteve · 3 months

Note

What about something semi-public with any version of Steve that floats your boat? 🔥

18+

“We can’t do this.”

Steve just grinned. Your voice sounded weak, even to you, breathy and not very convincing at all.

“We can’t?” Steve pouted, brows knotted together even though you couldn’t really see him, too busy concentrating on the road ahead, your knuckles tightening around the steering wheel with a white hot grip. “Why not?”

Steve was leaning over the console, just a little, lazy and unaffected, his hands trailing down your sternum as he popped each tiny button on the front of your summer dress.

“It’s the middle of the day,” you whispered, lashes fluttering as his fingers swept over the bare skin he uncovered, the back of your head thumping back onto the car seat. “S’broad daylight.”

The boy hummed, his hand pushing in past the cotton of your dress to cup your bare breast, your nipple hardening against his palm when he squeezed. The lack of bra was really working for both of you right now, the idea of anyone driving past you being able to see your tits and your boyfriend fondling you making you both hot and cold.

You were a dirty sight, one strap slipping from a shoulder as the front of your dress fall apart, chest on show, pebbled nipples peaked in the summer air and Steve bit his lip at the sight.

“You look so pretty, though,” he groaned, flicking at each bud, mouth watering when they got stiffer still. “Pretty, pretty tits, yeah? Jus’ wanna play with them, honey.”

You squirmed, slowing down for the stop sign as you tried to gather your breath, your cheeks hot, your chest heaving against Steve’s touch. You hoped to god no one was walking around the Main Street. A Sunday in summer was usually slow, quiet and lazy like the simmering heat, most of the towns residents at the pool or seeking shade indoors, gathering supplies for the inevitable barbecue they’d have for their dinner.

But still, the idea of being caught—

You pressed your thighs together as you headed away from the intersection, gasping when Steve leaned over and licked a stripe over one nipple, sucking it past his lips noisily and when he pulled away, his lips matched his cheeks, both rosy from the sight of you.

“Want me to stop?” He circled a fingertip around his new toy, cooing when you arched your back, pressing further into him. You were driving almost too slow now, barely able to concentrate on what was happening. “I can stop, baby. Button you back up and wait ’til later.”

Later seemed so far away.

You shook your head, trying not to whimper, but meek noises of protest got caught in your throat and Steve beamed when you spread your thighs, the car jerking slightly when you pumped the clutch too low.

“Oh,” he hummed, acting dumb, acting innocent. “You want me to touch you here?” Steve coasted his hand along the inside of your knee, trailing higher and higher until he’d could squeeze the fat of your thigh and suddenly you were driving back around the same road you just came with your pretty little summer dress hanging unbuttoned, your bare chest on display below the wheel and shining with your boyfriends spit.

Steve didn’t move his hand higher and you could feel your underwear growing wetter, slick gathering between your folds and you just knew he’d be able to sink two fingers into you, knuckle deep with no resistance.

“Steve Harrington, I’m going to fucking ki—“

He laughed, leaning over to kiss at your cheek in apology but his grin didn’t make him look very sorry at all. His mouth found your bare shoulder soon after, stamping kisses into your summer hot skin as his fingers pulled at your underwear, the cotton stretching over his knuckles.

The boy hissed, rubbing his free hand over his straining cock, cheeks growing redder at the feel of you. “Shit, honey, you’re so wet,” he sounded awed, like he still couldn’t believe after all these years together that you’d get like this for him.

“You like this?” He groaned, one fingertip rubbing softly over your swollen clit, a slow back and forth. “You like knowing someone could see you?”

You whined, gripping the steering wheel harder still and you contemplated pulling over, finding somewhere on the outskirts on town where you could stop the car and ride your boyfriend in the passenger seat.

“Shit, you do, don’t you?” Steve sounded reverent, jaw unhinged as he dipped his finger lower and pushed it inside of you. You immediately clenched down around it, pussy pulsing and Steve leaned over to kiss at the swell of your breast, tongue licking over your nipple before he spoke again. “Dirty girl. So fucking dirty, s’hot, baby. So hot.”

You were gasping his name now, hips lifting in your seat as you tried to keep the car going without stalling or driving too fast, because you were passing the library and there was a man waiting at the bus stop, head in a book and oblivious, but Christ—

Steve had two fingers in your cunt and your dress was falling away from your naked tits and wrapped around your waist on a Sunday at one in the afternoon.

“Keep driving,” Steve told you, “keep going and I’ll make you come, honey, I promise.”

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington smut #steve Harrington fanfic #Steve Harrington fanfiction #Steve Harrington oneshot #Steve baby blurb

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spacecaravan · 1 year

Text

Short Stack

pairing: rooster x reader word count: 4.8k 🥞☕🥓

"You're driving me crazy over here, honey," Bradley said with a pout from his spot in your kitchen, whining as he stared at you, your back to his front as you stood at your spot in front of the gas stove.

It was a picturesque Sunday morning, the air was warm and sweet-smelling as the wind floated in from the open window, dainty linen curtains blowing enchanting shapes in the breeze. You had asked Bradley if he wanted to eat breakfast outside today since, as you had put it, it would be such a waste if we didn't.

"Hm?" you hummed in response, resting your cheek on your shoulder as you craned your neck to glance over at the pilot, your hands busy tending to pancakes sizzling away on the stovetop "what'd you say, baby?" finding it a little hard to hear him over the speaker you had playing next to you on the countertop.

"You expect me to just sit over here while you're over there looking like that?" he questioned in an incredulous tone, his legs were wide open, palms splayed over his bare thighs while he watched you, his pajama shorts riding high on the tan skin underneath.

You raised your eyebrows, eyes glinting curiously in his direction before you bent over at the waist to check the bacon crisping up in the oven. Old sweatshirt riding up just enough to drive Bradley wild as you batted your lashes at him, stoking the flames you loved to be warmed by.

"What's that, Bradley?" you said, dimples threatening to break through the coy smile you were trying to hide, "don't you want me to take care of you like I promised?" you teased, reminding Bradley of the moments that had transpired not too long before he was sat sipping coffee in one of his favorite places in the world, your kitchen on a lazy Sunday morning.

"Sleepy girl,"

His favorite way to wake you up on Sundays was to whisper in your ear as he snuck his hand up the front of whatever soft top you happened to fall asleep in. Warm hand reaching for your breasts, but wanting you to be awake before he teased you so he could listen to you react.

"Good morning, baby," he rasped in your ear, his eager fingers ghosting over your bare nipples after he felt you stir, relishing in the pleased little sound you made in the back of your throat in response to his touch, nipples pebbling immediately under the tips of his fingers.

The night before you promised him you'd wake up early and make him a nice breakfast: fluffy buttermilk pancakes, perfectly cooked bacon, coffee the way he likes it — the works — he deserved it, you'd said.

You spent that night cooing in his ear about how he worked so hard on base, pressing wet kisses across his bare chest as you praised him, moaning desperately into the air as he pressed his thumb softly on your clit as you rode him—couldn't stop telling him how desperately you wanted to make him feel good.

"You deserve to feel so fucking good all the time, Bradley Bradshaw," you said, your skin hot and flushed as you fell apart on top of him, "and I'm going to make sure you do. I'm going to treat you so, so good, baby." you moaned into his ear before you felt him filling you up in your favorite way.

So blinking your eyes open, to see your bedroom bathed in the hazy morning glow while Bradley's hard cock pressed firmly against your ass, was not what you needed to have the productive morning you'd promised.

"Bradley," you forced out in your rough morning tone, a warning, at least that's how you intended it to sound.

"Mhm?" Rooster grumbled from behind you, pulling you tighter to his sleep-warmed body as he pushed his wet lips and scratchy mustache into your soft neck. "love hearing you say my name," he mumbled, "lemme hear it again, sweet girl," a tiny kiss pressed into the back of your hairline, "y'smell so good by the way, always do." he said, his tone laced with affection as he inhaled your scent, pressing tender kisses to the sensitive skin of your throat.

"Bradley," you repeated, placing your hand on top of the one he had resting on your hip, managing to flip yourself so that you were facing him, staring directly into his eyes. "good morning."

You kissed him softly on the lips before taking both of his hands between your bodies and pressing them above your breast, inhaling deeply and letting him feel your heartbeat. Rooster was strong, there was no denying it. But, for all that strength, Bradley was also putty in your hands, made utterly helpless at the site of your eyes on his. His body went completely pliant the moment you locked eyes with him and put your hands anywhere on his body.

"G'morning," he sighed, losing his train of thought in the way the sunlight made your skin glow. Bradley pressed a soft kiss onto your nose as he breathed you in, his chest pressing against your joined hands as he moved closer, tangling your feet beneath the soft blankets.

"Remember what I promised?" you reminded him, taking in his dreamy expression, keenly aware of how shallow his breaths were as he gazed at you, "I gotta start cooking, honey. Wanna treat you to this."

His mouth parts, tongue coming out to wet his lips as he watches you speak. Leans in closer to listen to you whisper sweetly about how you wanted to take care of him.

"Or," he started, mustache quirking slightly as a smirk took over his features, "you stay here," he paused for a moment, his larger hands overlapping yours to bring your knuckles up to his warm lips, "and you let me take care of you — let me make you feel good."

Hearing him say that made your heart pound, made your entire body tingle all over and tempted you to no end. But you wanted, no needed, to do this for Bradley. You had been planning this ever since the last time you cooked for him and he wouldn't shut up about how he loved watching you in the kitchen.

Went on and on about how he was ready to be a stay-at-home anything if it meant getting to watch you act out all the fantasies he held deep inside, close to his heart. Fantasies of domestic bliss, of a life with someone who cares for you, who adores you, and in return, someone to make it all worth giving a shit about.

And as much as you loved taking care of Bradley, you could never get enough of the way he would playfully nudge you away from the sink the moment he saw you starting to wash up after a meal. He always wanted to help, wanted to be involved, wanted to fill you up with the same type of affection you poured into him.

"Excuse me miss," he would start, his hip bumping yours as he came to stand at the sink, "what do you think you're doing over here?" his smile was always infectious at this point, his large hands coming in to pluck the sponge straight from your wet fingers, "go relax, go get comfy. I'll do the rest." and with that final word, he would kiss you into total submission and send you on your way with a tap to your bottom.

"Later," you whispered, "stay in bed. I'll bring you coffee in a bit,"

You freed your hands from his grip and gently brushed your fingers over his cheekbone. He immediately leaned into your soft touch, allowing you to rise easily, his lips forming a pout as he watched you move to exit the bedroom.

"You're torturing me," he said, propping himself up on his palm, elbow digging into the mattress as he shifted, his other palm coming out to reach for you in a desperate final attempt to get you back under the warm sheets.

You couldn't help the grin that blossomed on your face as you basked in Bradley's warm gaze.

"Lucky for you," you started, cheek pressed to the door frame as you watched him, "you're trained to handle tough situations like this. Aren't you, Lieutenant Bradshaw?" you slipped out before he could give you a response.

Walking down the hall you heard him groan and flop back down onto the mattress, could clearly picture him running his hands over his face and through his sleep-mussed hair as he shook his head with a smile.

And that's how you ended up here, sunshine coming softly through your kitchen window while Bradley sat wide-legged at your breakfast nook. His large body settled into the cushion you and your friends had DIY'd one Friday evening, after two bottles of chilled red wine sat happily in your stomachs and shared laughter lit up the room. It's how you ended up with Bradley practically white-knuckling his mug as he watches you cook and fawn over him, sweetly asking him, "Can I top off your coffee, baby?" while you stroke the back of his neck, backing away before he can get his hands on you.

"Honey," Bradley had moved from his spot, taking a few short strides to stand behind you at the stove. His hands coming to rest on your hips as he drags you back to him, "I can't sit there anymore."

"No?" you question, your gaze on the cast iron skillet on the burner, the final pancake was cooking away on its shiny black surface as you feigned nonchalance. "What's got you so worked up, Bradshaw?"

Once he heard his last name leave your mouth he knew you were teasing him, and god was he ready to tease you right back.

"I don't know," he presses a kiss to the side of your neck, "maybe just a pretty little thing making me breakfast," another kiss below your ear, "my girl taking such good care of me,"

Bradley moves his right hand to take the spatula out of your grip, meeting no resistance as you melt into the heat radiating from his naked chest, getting lost in the words coming out of his mouth as you lean into his onslaught of kisses.

"I'll tell you what's got me worked up, baby."

You feel him inhale deeply behind you, the music playing from the speaker filling up the otherwise quiet room as he deftly flips the pancake on the pan, somehow knowing it was the perfect time to turn it as its golden brown surface shows itself. Soon after his perfect pancake has been flipped, he places the tool down, and using his now free right hand, turns off the stove and the oven, signaling the end of that—kitchen closed.

Every nerve in your body was lighting up now. You could feel the excitement building in your marrow as he stood calmly behind you.

"Turn around, and I'll tell you," he whispers in your ear, "lemme see your pretty eyes."

There was no other option but to listen, no choice but to turn around and stare into his lust-filled eyes.

"So, what is it, Bradshaw?" you practically sigh, turning to him as you try to calm your breathing, willing yourself to fill your lungs slowly before he pushes you over the edge with just his words.

"It's you," his voice still low as his as he reaches his hand up to brush over your lips. The pad of his thumb swipes back and forth gently over your pouted bottom lip, "it's you in this fucking kitchen looking like a dream. It's you saying my name while you pour me coffee," he pauses briefly, "it's that I know you slept in my sweatshirt last night to drive me fucking crazy this morning."

"Am I in trouble, Lieutenant Bradshaw?" you say coolly despite the blazing inferno ripping through your entire being, despite his finger still resting on the plush of your lip.

Bradley doesn't answer, simply pushes his thumb past your lips and onto your waiting tongue. He loves the way he can make you mush under his touch. But you never let him have the upper hand for long. He groans and squeezes his eyes shut as you gaze up at him, sucking harshly on the digit and wetting it with your eager tongue. He pulls the finger out of your mouth, hand moving to grip your cheeks in a manner that made your panties flood with wetness. Bradley was practically panting — trying so hard to keep his cool, trying so hard not to spin you around right here and fuck you against the oven.

��Breakfast is gonna have to wait, pretty girl,” he declares, “should have never let you get out of bed this morning.”

After that it's a blur of warm hands grasping for bare skin, a symphony of moaning into open-mouthed kisses and when Bradley moves his hands down your thighs, pulling in a signal you've come to know well, you jump. His capable hands immediately come to your ass as you wrap your legs around his middle. You're nose to nose with him as he walks you back to the bedroom.

"I've got you, baby," he whispers, "gonna make you feel so good."

He's dropping you onto the bed before you know it, towering his body over yours to kiss every inch of skin he can touch. He's pushing up your (his) sweatshirt to reveal the soft skin hidden underneath, stopping to bite and lick your exposed breasts, taking extra care of each nipple as he nips and pinches.

Rooster tosses away the article of clothing, leaving you lying in the morning light in just your underwear. He takes a single step back, leaving you panting on the bed as you stare up at him. He's obviously hard, his pajama shorts tented and hands flexing at his sides as he looks down at the way your almost naked body is being illuminated by the golden light.

"You look too fucking good," he whispers mostly to himself, "god damn."

He drops to his knees in front of you, hands coming to wrap underneath your knees as he drags you to the end of the bed, bringing your covered cunt to his waiting mouth. Rooster immediately presses his nose and lips onto the sodden fabric of your panties, his tongue coming out to taste the wetness soaking the cotton. You could come just from this, just from Bradley Bradshaw breathing into your pussy while he presses his perfect nose against your puffy clit.

"Want me to taste you, honey?" he whispers into your cunt, and you feel like you're burning alive, "cause I wanna taste you real fuckin' bad."

He pulls away from you again, and it really isn't fair that he looks like that right now. His skin is radiant and ethereal, he smells divine and he's looking at you like he wants to eat you alive. Before you even have a chance to answer, Rooster is gripping the fabric on your underwear tightly, increasing the friction on your clit. A little tease. Maybe a little mean—or even a little needy.

"Talk to me, baby," he says, fingers still pulling the fabric taut against your dripping center.

"Please, Bradley," you whisper desperately, chest heaving as you look down at him. "Need you," you add, yes because you mean it, but also because you know he loves to hear it.

With that, he is swiftly pulling the soaked panties down your legs, flinging them somewhere to be found later while the two of you laugh and make the bed together.

His palms come back to separate your thighs and you could die. You feel like you're about to plunge into icy cold water—the shock of adrenaline as your body adjusts to the frigid temperature. Warmth overtakes every cell in your body, as you gaze down at him. Bradley is staring directly into your wet pussy with a lust-filled glaze in his pretty eyes. With every inhale and exhale you feel more obscene, more spread open.

"So wet," he observes, his voice deep and gruff "you showin' off for me? Gettin' nice and wet just for me, baby?"

He runs his thumb up and down your slit, taking one pass to tease at your aching clit. His thumb is bringing you a pleasure that is making your back arch off the mattress, it feels like he is taking you apart piece by piece. His face is still so close to your pussy you can feel his breath fanning over you. His warm breath is a sharp contrast to the wetness of your weeping hole.

"Oh, honey," he coos, as he dips his middle finger into your soaked cunt, "bet you were wet this morning too, huh? But my good girl wanted to treat me to a picture-perfect Sunday, didn't she?"

He wants you to answer, you know this.

"Want you so bad, Bradley," you whimper into your palm, having pressed the side of it between your teeth to keep from yelling out, "want you always. Wanna take care of you all the time."

When his mouth finally comes down, it makes you weep, makes you cry out in a tone you've never heard leave your body. His supple mouth and tongue are bringing you so much comfort as they simultaneously send all-encompassing shockwaves of pleasure through you.

You’re bucking into his mouth, unashamed in your want for him, unabashed in the way you spread your wetness over his gorgeous face. You bring your hands away from your fluttering chest and gasping mouth to pull his hair, hard. He moans loudly when you do, making your tummy do backflips as he feasts on your cunt. Breakfast be damned.

"My perfect girl," he whispers against your clit, "tastes so good. Such a sweet pussy."

You groan at his words, reveling in his praise and storing it away to replay at a later time. No one has ever made you feel the way Rooster does, no one has ever been able to make you completely unravel in the way he can.

"Need you, baby," you whine from your spot on the bed, "need to feel you inside me, please. Please, Bradley."

He pulls back enough for you to see his face—lips shining, mustache obscenely wet and it makes you dizzy just to look at him like this. His hands are still gripping your thighs, his touch burning the area his palms are claiming.

"Can't wait for me to finish?" he taunts, mocking you as he smiles into your wet cunt.

That's when you move to sit up, propping yourself up on your elbows to get better leverage. Wordlessly you slip back away from him, sliding back on the soft sheets to rest your back flat against the headboard. Creating enough distance between the two of you to keep him out of arms reach, the only touch he could lay on you now is a soft graze to your ankle with his fingertips.

"Come here, Rooster," you say, your sultry tone sounds unfamiliar to you, coated in want and lust, "come and take your pussy, Lieutenant Bradshaw."

A beat passes. You hear him curse under his breath. He's so solid when he comes to stand at the end of the bed. Doesn't take his eyes off yours as he rids himself of his soft shorts. Doesn't make a sound as he palms his erection, stroking the length once, twice, three times before he descends upon you. Once again he's flexing that Navy-earned strength of his to drag your body flush against the mattress. His arms coming to frame your head as he brings his mouth down onto yours, soft and kind, kissing you so sweetly as he leaves the taste of you behind on your tongue.

"You're gonna be the death of me, baby." he moans into your mouth.

"What a way to go," is all you say before you reach down to rub his cock up and down your wet slit, taking extra care to rub his sensitive tip over your clit driving you both wild in the process.

He's gripping your wrist tight, halting your movement on his length. His eyes are half-open as they peer into yours, his bottom lip lodged in between his perfect teeth as he places your hand back on the soft sheets below you.

His plunging inside you so suddenly it pushes all the air out of your lungs. His breath hitches as he settles into the deepest, warmest parts of you—his hands coming up to keep your supple thighs snug around his waist as pleasure rocks through your core. Sometimes he moves so fast you can't keep up, can't keep up with the pillow being shoved under your ass as Bradley strokes deep inside of you.

“Oh, honey,” he moans, “god that pussy is perfect.”

Your skin sizzles at his praise, pleasure is working itself down to the very tips of your toes, making you shiver. You're gasping for breath as he pushes himself impossibly deeper inside of you, eyes falling shut as you chase the pleasure he is eliciting from you. Your pussy is clenching around him, he feels so thick and perfect inside you it makes you want to cry. Your hands are gripping the sheets so hard your fingers are cramping.

"Look at me, pretty baby," he whispers, "let me see my girl."

Your eyes snap open, but your head tilts back with pleasure at his request. You feel so close. You don't know how he gets you teetering over the edge so fast. Maybe it's the husky sound of his voice as he calls you a million different lovely names. Maybe it's the way his tan arms look caging you beneath his body. Or maybe it's the way he gets lost staring in between your bodies.

Rooster is obsessed with the way he looks sliding in and out of you while you cry out underneath him. But he can never look away too long, always needing to see the look in your eyes as he fucks you in a way that makes you whine and beg for him—makes you desperate for him in his favorite way. He never gets tired of the shock on your face when he whispers filthy words into your ear as he touches parts of you no one ever has. And you hope to god that no one but him ever will again.

Did Bradley love seeing you act out his domestic fantasies? Of fucking course. The pilot could hardly keep his hands off you most evenings, barely getting the chance to say hello before he was winded at the sight of you floating around the kitchen. Always humming along to a tune he liked — or at least he liked the sound of it coming sweetly from you — before you noticed he was in the room. You were always stirring this, or chopping that. Asking him to taste this for salt or, like most times, you simply said "sit and relax, Rooster, let me take care of you." like you did this morning. He loved the way you took care of him. You did it without pretense or motive. Just did it because you loved to see him loved. You adored doting on Bradley Bradshaw because you knew he deserved it. You knew how he craved it.

But, for as much as Bradley liked you sweet and delicate in the kitchen, he loved you fucked out and messy more. He went crazy over the way you'd suck his fingers into your mouth while he was fucking you, doing anything just to feel fuller. Loved the way you teased—all half-lidded eyes and parted lips, walking around half-dressed with an innocent smile on your face as you stepped in front of the TV, interrupting whatever college football game he happened to be watching with a simple Hi, Bradshaw. He lived for the chase and would do stupid, dangerous things for the reward.

“Bradley,” you whisper, and it elicits another moan from him, one that is throaty and deep, "Make me cum, please,"

He wants to keep teasing you, wants to make you wait so badly, wants to make you yell out his name desperately as he edges you. But he can't—not this morning—not when you look so, so pretty laid out underneath him, like a fucking angel, he thinks to himself.

"I've got you, pretty honey," he leans down to press his chest into yours, relishing in the feeling of your hard nipples pressed into his heated skin, "don't have to do a thing, sweet girl, just feel how deep that cock is inside you, okay? Can you do that for me?"

"Oh, Bradley," you whine, crying out at the feeling of his shaft hitting parts of you that hurt so goddamn good. Parts of you that made tears prick at the corners of your eyes, made your toes curl and your heart pound out of your chest.

He's close too, he can never stop talking the closer to release he gets. "That's it, baby, tell me who's making you feel good. Tell me whose cock is gonna make you cum." his words are filthy as he chases his orgasm alongside yours.

You would tell him anything he wanted to hear right now, confess your deepest darkest secrets if he asked.

"It's you, Rooster" you moan. "Always you, only you. No one else can fuck me like you Rooster, please. Please." you plead desperately, you're so close to cumming and it's driving you insane, making your skin tingle all over as you stand over the edge waiting to jump.

Bradley's mind goes blank at your words, he can't do anything but continue to fuck you deeper, soaking in your praise before it shoots straight into his pelvis and grips him tight.

You hold on to him tightly as you cum, holding him as close as possible as you grind against him, body moving instinctually at this point to chase the most pleasure possible, to milk every last ounce of euphoria you can from him.

Bradley's own gratification is close, he knew it was the moment he felt your pussy start pulsing around his cock as you came. He was absolutely basking in every little noise coming from as you came undone underneath him, he loved watching you come apart, loved that he was the one doing it.

"I want it, baby," you preen underneath him, shocking him out of his reverie and snapping his attention to the fucked out expression on your face, "need to feel you cum inside me Bradley, please, baby. Need it so, so bad, honey."

He growls and you know that did it. The deep, raspy noise coming from him as he spills inside you makes you clench down on his shaft, hard. The feeling of your cum soaked pussy clenching around him makes Bradley curse into your ear. Makes him thrust hard into your sensitive hole as he groans out your name.

When you still, the two of you are slick with a fine layer of sweat, bellies moving in tandem as you fight desperately to fill your lungs and steady your heartbeats.

If there's one thing Bradley loves, it's the afterglow. He could lie on top of you with his cock soft inside your velvet walls for hours. Wouldn't move if he didn't have the unfortunate human need for food and water. On rare occasions, Bradley would be so relaxed post-orgasm, he would doze off on your chest, his breath coming out in gentle puffs over your skin as you pet the top of his head, basking in the sight of him bare and malleable underneath you.

"I think breakfast might be a little cold, baby," he says with a smile, gazing up at you with a look you could only describe as smitten.

"Shame," you tut, and your hand grips his hair a little tight, nothing that hurt, nothing that no one but a top naval aviator would notice, a little twitch as you considered what to say next. "can I tell you a secret?" you're grinning now too.

"Spill it," his expression is giddy as he waits for your confession.

"I love doing this with you," you didn't mean to be earnest. You meant to say something witty, something funny.

But you couldn't, honesty pouring out of you like a tub overflowing with water. Like someone had turned on the faucet and walked away.

You see his expression soften before he's rolling the two of you over, his eyes never leaving yours as he brings the both of you to lay on your sides, mirroring the position you were in earlier this morning. Hands gripped tightly between each other, chests moving in tandem as you bring your faces impossibly close together. "Me too, baby," he's smiling so sweetly it's making your stomach fill with butterflies "you have no idea."

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bangaveragewhitewine · 8 months

Text

Hearts are wild creatures

Dad!Steve Harrington x Mom!Reader

Halloween, 1999

A simple worn-before couple’s costume and drinks with friends. Kissing like teenagers and hushed voices. You and Steve, a night to make up for lost time before Halloween-morning with your two little girls.

Takes place two years after soft slow, morning glow

Word count: 6.4k

Contents: Parent!Steve & Reader. Explicit (18+) - oral (f!receiving), p-in-v sex (reader is on birth control, but wrap it up, friends!). Breeding kink. Parental domesticity - Steve & Reader have two kids, mention of a difficult pregnancy, sickeningly sweet domestic fluff.

Author’s note: This started as soft Halloween-flavoured domesticity and then I imagined Steve dressed as Johnny Castle… we couldn’t not go there.

Thank you @specialagentmonkey for proofreading and being wonderful. And for watching ST from the start with me! And thank YOU, dear reader, for being here. I hope you enjoy it!

Tucked away in the Chicago suburbs, your little house matches its companions in the cosy cul de sac; the residents of Elm Crescent had transformed their homes and gardens into a Halloween Wonderland as exciting for the adults as it was for the kids. You knew you had made the right choice buying your first home here.

The garden has been prepared for a night of costumed trick-or-treaters, the path flanked by two homemade sheet-ghosts and leaves raked in vain leaving the green lawn clear for those that fell since yesterday afternoon. Four carved pumpkins guard the house from their spot on the front steps, arranged from largest to littlest - one for each of you.

Inside, tissue-paper ghosties with wobbly marker-drawn smiles made by tiny hands float on lengths of thread, seasonal art projects take pride of place in the kitchen, and paper bats guard the stairs from their hanging place on the spindles. Nothing too scary to frighten a four and nearly-two-year-old, all brightly childish orange and purple and green, smiling instead of scaring.

Halloween fell perfectly in ‘99 - a Sunday night for tricks and treats meant that you and Steve could make grown-up plans on Saturday. A simple worn-before couple’s costume, a competent and willing babysitter, and drinks with friends in a too-loud bar that you all left early to get pizza and a cab home. It was later than you had stayed up or out in months, maybe years, and you both felt almost giddy with excitement. Far from the late and boozy Halloween nights of your early years as a couple, it was exactly the night you and Steve had wanted.

Back home, your Johnny and Baby costumes were barely folded before you crawled into bed together and kissed like off-the-leash teenagers, keeping your voices and giggles low while your babies slumbered peacefully down the hall.

After paying the babysitter from across the street, making sure she got home safe, neither you nor Steve could resist a peek at the two sleeping girls when you got home, both sentimental (and a little broody again) as you held each other gazing at their little dreaming faces. Beth with her bunny-teddy pillowing her cheek (reminding you to wash it soon with lavender detergent and steaming hot water) and Ava, sweet little Ava, starfishing in her crib. Your tiny girl takes up so much space in your hearts, pulls attention in every room she enters with her big brown eyes and honey-blonde hair; she is your little cherub.

You had missed them on your night out, tried not to count the minutes since you had left or until you got home to them. Steve had felt the same, but you knew they were safe and (hopefully) sleeping. So, you tried and succeeded in letting yourselves be distracted by your brilliant little group of friends, strong drinks and each other - all of which came easily, with warm cheeks and loud laughter, stolen kisses while your friends pretended to take offence that you loved each other more than them.

Now, at home in your cosy little bedroom, Steve’s hand skates upward, feeling the dips and curves of your body as your lips lock in a needy kiss. Smiling against your mouth, he greedily swallows the soft noise pulled from your throat. His hand finds its home, cupping your breast through soft shell-pink satin, as the other holds your hand pinned to the sunshine-coloured cotton sheet.

Two kids later and he is still utterly obsessed with you, in love with all of you - especially the bumps and marks of motherhood that came with each perfect girl. You had spent most of the night tucked to his side, pretty pink contrasting his tight black shirt and jeans. Robin had tried to sit between you at one point and you had been hauled onto the warm sturdy throne of Steve’s lap, his chin on your shoulder as he argued with his best friend over whether they should do karaoke or shots next. Except for quests to the bar for more drinks and a few trips to the bathroom, you hadn’t been without his warm touch since you left the house. He would have held your hand while you peed if he could, would have accompanied you to the bar except your friends forced you to be apart ‘for five fuckin’ minutes, dude.’

His lips skate lower, abandoning your kiss-swollen lips to nibble your jaw and seek out that spot on your neck while his thumb presses firmly against your nipple. Your brow creases in pleasure when he finds it; the quiet gasp ‘Steve’ is whispered into his hair, edging toward a whimper.

“Mmhm? M’here, baby.” Tipsy from a lower alcohol tolerance and drunk on you, Steve’s voice is hot against your neck.

Your fingers wrap over his own as he presses you into the mattress, his black Calvin Klein’s straining with need, with want. Your own underwear have been damp since his hand settled on your thigh in the cab at the start of the night.

Your fingers slide into Steve’s hair, directing him back to your lips as his thigh slots snugly into the apex of your spread legs.

“Yeah? There?” he murmurs, smiling cockily.

It had been far too long since you had time alone like this; too tired after work or parenting, one or both of you needed to dry tears and check for monsters after a bad dream just as hands began to wander beneath the covers.

Your hips roll, electrified, grinding on the firm bulk of his thigh. “Please, Stevie…”

You both know you could get off like this and if he thought that was what you really wanted - what you needed - Steve would let you. He would gladly watch you come undone, guide your hips and be whatever you need him to be. But neither had forgotten your hot whisper against his ear as Eddie carried a tray of drinks and shots back to your table earlier; the way your lips grazed Steve’s neck as you so quietly asked him to fuck you into the mattress when you got home.

You had watched his eyes blow wide and pressed a rose-pink kiss to his cheek (warm and blushing) while your friends placed bets on when Baby Harrington the Third would be coming.

Steve peels himself back, kneeling on the bed as he palms himself at the sight of you. You feel saliva pool under your tongue as you rake your eyes from his thighs, over that substantial bulge, and up his furry chest. He is nothing short of breathtaking, and Steve thinks just the same of you.

Your fingers slip over the nude lace of your underwear, biting your lip when you brush over the damp spot visible even in the low light from the bedside lamp. You don’t play long, already too worked up, and push your panties down toward your thighs with a lift of your hips.

Steve takes over, like a baton-pass, and eases your legs up against his chest with your feet against his shoulder. Your underwear is slipped off and thrown carelessly behind him, somewhere on the floor. He presses kisses to your calf, a curving path up over your ankle and the top of your foot before each leg is laid down gently on either side of his spread knees.

You prop yourself up on your elbows before pushing yourself up to sit and meet Steve for another kiss; it is smiling and sweet and a little dirty. Your fingers hook into his waistband before taking a greedy handful of his unfairly pert behind, making him laugh against your mouth.

“You going to give me what I want?” you murmur, kissing his chin. Your other hand slips down the front side, fingers wrapping around to squeeze his hard length as you look up through your lashes.

“Anything. Everything.” Steve’s eyes flutter closed and he cups your cheek in one huge hand, blindly bringing you back in for another kiss.

Your voices are just loud enough for each other to hear in the golden glow of your bedroom. You miss the days when you could be loud, but wouldn’t change it - take a day trip to the past perhaps, when you didn’t have to restrain your desire to a quick fuck after dark, or during nap time while the washer and dryer run in the background like white noise,

Maybe in a few weeks, before the craziness of the holidays, you can stow away to a hotel for a night or two and cash in on the babysitting offer from Aunties Robin and Nancy.

But tonight is perfect nonetheless. It’s perfect when you shove Steve’s briefs down his thighs and when his fingers skate over your back to undo your bra (before it joins your underwear and his on the floor). You lay back, taking Steve with you, and hook your leg over his hip and bring him as close as you can all over again.

All there is right now is you and Steve. You’re well-practised enough to be quiet.

Covetous hands palm over hips, fingers thread into hair, pulling each other close and closer still. Steve finds his home between your thighs and leans over, dipping to kiss you as his fingers press and tease, push inside you with care. His fingers stretch just right and curl up to seek out the place that makes you drool.

“Lemme have a little taste?” he asks against your mouth, smiling when a whine catches in your throat. “Yeah? Can I?”

“So greedy.” Your cheeks are warm and crease when his smile sets you off.

“I am. I can’t get enough of you.” His straight white teeth nip your lower lip, a bite he soothes with his tongue. “I think you love it…”

You gasp as his fingers curl again before he withdraws them, and watch as he licks your wetness from them.

Steve winks as his lips trail lips lower, over your chest and the softness of your tummy, your hips and the places on your thighs that jiggle a little bit. Steve presses a feathery kiss to your swollen bud before licking out his tongue to part your lips

Steve’s prone to getting sidetracked down there - not that you would ever complain about your husband who loves to go down on you - but you have been thinking of being railed by him since last Wednesday.

The begged-for ‘little taste’ quickly becomes so much more.

There’s nothing ‘little’ about Steve - not his hands or his thighs, his biceps or his manhood, or his heart. His appetite for you certainly is not little or lacking either. With his hand on your thigh, the other on the cheek of your ass, he makes your thighs tremble with a few skilful licks and the soft suck of his mouth. His nose rests and nudges against the pudge of your mound, darkened eyes fixed on you as he flicks his tongue.

He watches how your jaw drops, the crease in between your brows. You feel dizzy, anchored only by the weight of his hand spreading your thigh higher, wider for him.

The burning want in your belly flames hot and bright as Steve buries his face between your thighs. His tongue presses firm and flat, encouraged when your fingers slide into his hair to keep him ‘right there, oh!’

Silenced by your own hand, you feel that white-hot tight-winding feeling as his fingers slide home again. The sound of his wet mouth on you sounds so loud, the same volume as the throb of your heart, the blood rushing in your ears. A whimper of Steve’s name is stifled, a high choked-up noise in your throat as his scalp burns from tugging fingers.

Your orgasm takes you by surprise, amped up and tightly wound after a night of teasing and wanting, and the long groping make-out and grind in the kitchen after the babysitter left.

Steve’s solid weight keeps your hips low to the bed, even when your back arches sharply. An expert at your pleasure now, seeking it out and making you see stars every time, he keeps up the pace and pressure, with his fingers and tongue. He knows what you need, how you like it - never stale, never disappointing.

Your body attempts to curl up on itself, feeling too good. Slowly, carefully, Steve drags his mouth to kiss your shaky thigh before making his way back to lie alongside you. His damp fingers, wrap around his diamond-hard length to give some sort of relief.

Glowing and giggly, you gaze up at him and drag Steve in for a kiss. “Knew you were a greedy boy.” Your voice is quietly breathy, shaking with that post-orgasm wobble as he laughs against your mouth.

“Got carried away. Sue me.” His voice is a low murmur.

Cupping his cheek, you skate your thumb along the bone. He’s so gorgeous, gold-toned in the nighttime light. Your fingertips brush the moles on his cheek as Steve kisses you again; beneath the musk of you on his tongue, you can still taste the lingering whiskey notes from your night out.

Pulled right up against him, you feel the hard and soft of Steve’s body, the fur of his chest and thighs. He found two grey hairs on his chest earlier in the year which almost caused an existential crisis - only solved with your tweezers and a tonne of kisses and promises that you would still adore him when every hair on his body was shiny silver.

“You wanna be on your back or front?” he asks, squeezing your side.

The question makes that inferno in your tummy begin to burn hotter again. You think of how good it feels when he’s behind you, thighs slapping against the back of your own, the way he stretches you and hits that place deep inside. And yet, you need to see him tonight - you are so dreamily in love with him that not having his lips on yours might just make you expire.

“Back. Pass me that cushion?”

As you get comfy, Steve takes himself in hand again and settles himself between your legs. His non-busy hand runs through his hair - still a glorious mane into his thirties, despite a few shorter cuts over the years - and you are reminded of the pretty-boy you fell for almost a decade ago.

Steve catches you smiling and palms your leg as you settle on either side of his hips. He matches the little grin and dips forward to kiss you, nuzzling your noses together.

“What’s got you smilin’ like that, huh?” he asks, running the head of his cock through your wetness before tapping it at the top.

He watches your lashes flutter, the way you bite your lip.

“Just thinkin’ about you, handsome,” you murmur, “You always make me smile.”

He grins and kisses you again, both feeling like young loves again despite the aches and pains and the mortgage and the two kids sleeping down the hall. “I fuckin’ love you,” Steve whispers.

“I love you,” you murmur back, running your fingers into your love’s hair as the other hand grabs his wrist. “Please? Been waiting all night, Stevie…”

His lips melt the put-on pout and together you guide him inside. The stretch of him has got easier over the years, well practised at love-making and fucking like rabbits alike. He’s gentle when he needs to be, rougher when you both want it like that.

“I’ve got you, baby. Sorry for making my girl wait,” he murmurs as he slides all the way in.

Eyes fluttering closed at the stretch-and-fill, Steve starts off with a slow grind that makes your jaw drop. He murmurs quiet swears at how warm-wet you feel around him, squeezing him tight as his hips draw halfway back before going all the way in again.

“Fuck,” he whispers, and braces one hand by your head with the other splayed wide on your side. Your hips lift with him, legs propped high to open you up wider for him.

For a scant second, you want to ask if his back hurts - he pulled something at basketball drills last week and you had massaged on Tiger Balm morning and night for a few days until the twinging stopped. The hard flick of his hips makes the question vanish from your mind, his cock dragging and hitting just right.

“Oh god,” you whisper-gasp, jaw hanging open.

“I know, baby. M’sorry it’s been so long. M’a bad husband, huh? Leaving my poor wife needy and un-fucked.” His voice is hot and rough against your cheek, breath tickling your ear as he finds his rhythm. “Gonna make it up to you, yeah?”

You squeeze the back of his neck, giggling. “Make it up to me all you want.” He palms over your hip, hiking it higher before leaning over you again. “Fuck, Steve. Feels so good.”

Your eyes dip to the gold chain hanging around his neck, watching how it sways in rhythm to how he’s fucking you. You bring your hand to where it rests against his neck, guiding Steve’s mouth to yours again. His breath huffs hot against your lips, tongues sliding in a dirty kiss.

The wet click of parting lips sounds loud in Steve’s ears when you break away, moaning his name against his chin when his thrusts hit deeper, harder.

“Shhh, I know you wanna be loud, sweetheart. I know you feel good.” His voice is like lava dripping as he kisses your neck.

You pinch your lips together, the moan caught in your throat comes out as a high hum.

Steve is so hard. His pants felt too tight all night; half hard since he saw you in your little pink dress. It only got worse, harder not to ask you to meet him in the bathroom, when you sat on his lap and toyed with the back of his hair, whispered in his ear before slipping into conversation with Nancy about something totally different.

The slick-tight-hot feeling, the way you pulse around his cock, makes that tense coil of pleasure low in his gut wind tighter. His chest feels like

You can’t help but fall a little more in love with him, hypnotised by the swinging gold chain, the circles he rubs against your hip and the way his styled hair falls over his forehead.

Squeezing your thighs around him, you bring your legs up and tilt your hips higher. Steve adjusts the stance of his knees and slows his thrusts to a deep grind, the tip of him brushing your cervix. You can feel all of him pressed right up against you, inside and out.

“Oh fuck.. fuck, Steve.” Your voice is thin and strained, like a thread about to snap.

“Yeah, baby. I’ve got you,” he whispers, biting down on his own lower lip. “God, you’re so pretty. So sexy.”

The air in your bedroom feels humid and heavy, like a thunderstorm, waiting for lightning to crack and split the sky, waiting for a downpour.

Steve moves his hand from your hip, gliding over your pelvis to feel how he makes you bulge just a bit before his fingers begin circling your sticky-damp clit. Just quick enough, firm enough, mean enough.

Your back arches, quiet voice babbling with incoherence at how intense it feels. “I’mgonnacomeohgodstevestevefuck…”

“Come on baby, come for me. Let me feel it,” he pants, hitting deep and hard. He’s so close, barely holding on to himself.

You hold him tight to you as you come, fingers tugging in his hair as the other hand claws and digs into the meat at the top of his ass.

Overwhelmed, a sweet shock of release hits you like lightning and opens the floodgates.

Steve holds you just as close, anchored to each other. Whispering hot words of praise against your mouth, he gazes into your watery eyes sparkling with tears - he makes you feel that good.

“Oh baby, I’ve got you. You okay?” he asks, so tender. He leans over you, wrapping his arm beneath your lower back as the other braces his weight along his forearm. One huge hand cups your face and wipes your tears. There’s mascara smudged beneath your eyes, and you look beautiful.

There’s that smile he loves; wobbly and lovely. A giggle-sob bubbles from those sweet kiss-bitten lips. “Fuck, Steve..”

“I know, sweetheart. I know. Want me to pull out, is it too much?”

You shake your head against the duvet, your hair a mess. “No, no. Don’t... Wanna feel you.” Your voice is slurred, love drunk.

That makes him throb. He kisses you again and runs his nose along yours. “M’close,” he whispers, beginning a slow-dragging thrust inside your soaked and still-fluttering body.

You can see it, how close he is, and feel it in how his rhythm has faltered. His brows pinch, smearing wet kisses to your shoulder as he tucks his face into your neck.

“I’ve got you, Stevie. You’re so good,” you whisper, stroking the back of his neck. “Let go, baby. I’ve got you.”

A grunting groan is smothered against your shoulder as Steve stills and shudders on top of you. His hips pump slow and hard as he comes inside with your name on his lips, making you shiver too.

His weight settles, sinking you into the mattress in the best way. This is exactly what you had missed so much. As much as you fervently adore actually having sex with Steve Harrington, there is something so special about lying with him in the afterglow.

Sweat-sticky and breathless, you stroke through his hair and press your lips into his hair. The hairspray scent lingers, clinging to the scent of shampoo beneath the smoke from cigarettes bummed from his bad-influence-best-friend Eddie. There was something about the smoke-tinged kisses that made you feel extra feral for him on the way home.

“Don’t fall asleep on me,” you whisper, laughing softly when his sigh tickles your neck.

“But you’re so comfortable.”

Lifting his head, Steve smiles all pink-cheeked and dozy. “So beautiful too,” he murmurs, inching forward to kiss you.

The wet noise from below makes you both laugh like teenagers and you take your turn to hide your face.

“You take your birth control today?” he asked, easing himself up and out of you slowly, carefully. His eyes can’t look away from where he drips from you.

“Mhm. Sorry, big boy.” You grab a tissue from the bedside table, wiping yourself gently before you mess up the duvet cover. You had both agreed, after having Ava, to wait a few years before adding to your nest again - it had been Steve’s idea after your less-than-easy second pregnancy. For a man with a bit of a breeding kink and a dream of a family the size of a field hockey team, he was wonderfully considerate.

He kisses you again before standing to find his pyjama pants; he leaves out one of his sweaters and a pair of shorts for you too - sleeping naked was a dangerous game with two small kids.

Clean-faced and exhausted and happy, you curl up together in bed after a few sleepy kisses and a playful argument about who would get up with Ava in the morning. As if Steve would ever miss a chance to let you sleep and steal the morning smiles from your youngest all for himself.

“You won’t even hear me sneak. M’a ninja,” he murmurs tiredly against the back of your neck and you can feel his smile.

“If you say so, ninja boy,” you mumble back, dragging your joined hands up for one more kiss before slipping into a deep, peaceful slumber.

Sunday. Halloween. The best day of the year for your little girls - since the last best day (their Daddy’s birthday in late July).

Ever a fan of Halloween, and autumn in general, you always wanted to bring your girls up to be excited for Halloween as soon as September began. Still so little, with Play-Dough minds, they had begun to catch on to your excitement and followed soaked it up. Beth especially, four with an expansive imagination, was excited about dressing up and eating candy and watching “Hogus Pogus” with you after dinner.

Your parental body clocks ring at seven despite the late night.

You wake to Steve creeping out, blindly bumping into the dresser with a quiet ‘shit’ as Ava calls out for him. This morning his presence was required to brush fat tears from the little one’s pink cheeks and kiss the damp paths they left behind until she was smiling again.

You hear the youngest babbling as Steve carries her quietly downstairs, hoping she won’t wake you or Beth. The throb of a minor hangover and post-sex ache drags you back under the covers and into a light doze.

You have another thirty minutes and some change until Beth wakes and realises she misses you, deciding to sneak in before even letting her Dad know she was awake - she wanted to see you hear about your Halloween party with her uncle and aunties and remind you that the best day had finally arrived.

The creaky hinge on the door alerts you - a reminder to ask Steve to show you how to oil it properly this time - you peek an eye open to watch the four-year-old sneak over to stand by the bed on her Dad’s side. She would be content enough with just seeing you, comforted in the knowledge that you were home to spend the day together; her face lights up when she spies you peeking over Steve’s pillow, your hand raised in a little wave.

“Hi Mommy,” she whispers, dimples showing her delight.

“Hi Bethie,” you whisper back, beckoning her into Steve’s vacant spot next to you.

You open the covers to let your big girl in. She folds herself into you for a hug, her head against your chest.

“I missed you. I missed you sooooo much,” she says, face turned up to look at you like she is a sunflower and you’re the sun.

“I missed you too, baby.” Her little face cupped in one hand, you press kisses to her forehead and cheeks, her little nose.

You make a tent big enough for two beneath the covers, lying on your sides facing each other until your giggling makes it too warm and your tummies rumble for the special Halloween breakfast you promise. (You curse yourself a little for that last glass of wine, trying to remember what exactly you had promised until Beth reminds you about the pumpkin-shaped pancakes).

Wrapped in your soft dressing gown, you follow Beth down the stairs, hearing Ava’s happy-baby babble in the kitchen as she eats her half-banana breakfast appetizer. The decorations look a little silly and rough around the edges in the morning light, but still, your little home feels like a perfect pocket of happiness.

Beth jumps into the kitchen with an excited-but-not-very-spooky ‘BOO!’ for Steve.

When she sees him, nursing coffee and Advil with a messy bedhead and tired smile, he quickly becomes Beth’s golden light source as her beaming face turns to him.

“Woah! You scared me!” he says, clutching his heart before dipping to scoop her up.

You try not to laugh at his Dad-groan and the cracking crunch of his knees as he stands, instead shuffling in your slippers to Ava in her highchair.

Her hands bash on the tray, smushing banana with fierce excitement as you peck kisses all over her pretty cherubic face.

Beth leans her head against Steve, playing with the string of his hastily thrown-on hoodie as she tells him about the dream she had and how he has to take lots of pictures of her costume later to send to your extended family.

Spotting his bare feet on the kitchen tiles, you slip into the laundry room to find a pair of socks for him to wear. Resistant to ‘old man slippers’, you tuck them into his front pocket as you peck his lips and move him and Beth away from the counter so you can start on breakfast. You steal a sip of his coffee, wrinkling your nose at the lack of sweetness before shooing him and Beth to sit with Ava at the table.

“What was Uncle Teddy dressed as?” Beth asks, head against Steve’s chest so she looks at him upside down.

“He was a vampire. But he just wore his normal clothes and some silly teeth.” Steve rolled his eyes dramatically - he had seen vampire Eddie all the way back in high school when he was dealing instead of drinking, and again when you all used to drink and party the night away in your early twenties. Yeah you had dressed as Baby and Johnny before, but you had all boo’ed at Eddie when he showed up in the ultimate low-effort costume.

“Oh. Okay. Vampires is sca’wry though, Daddy!” Beth reminds him. “You and Mommy didn’t go as scar'wies. What about Bobin?”

You laugh quietly at the nickname Robin has had since Beth started speaking, and her simple way of humbling Steve about his own costume (and yours).

“Robin dressed up as Elton John. You know the song you like, Benny & the Jets? She dressed up as the guy who sings that song. And Can You Feel The Love Tonight. He sings that too.” Steve is a wee bit distracted, nibbling the chunk of crushed banana offered from Ava’s fist.

“Bobin was Simba?” Beth’s eyes are wide, excited. She doesn’t seem bothered about her lack of scary costume, only yours.

“No babe. Elton John, he’s a singer. She had big glasses on and a sparkly jacket. You know he sings... Um. ‘Rocketmaaan, burning up his fuel out there alone..’ you like that one. I’ll find the tape later.”

Ava squeals in delight when he sings, so Steve indulges her a little more.

As you mix up pancake batter (adding a little food colouring to make them orange like pumpkins), and take two Advil for the dull throb in your head, the soundtrack of Beth and Steve’s conversation makes you smile, interspersed with Ava’s chirpy shouts for attention, her little contributions to the conversation.

You glance back at the little tableau of Beth on Steve’s lap, his hood pulled over his messy hair (a pair of sunglasses and he would look just the same as your hungover mornings in your first apartment together). His spare hand strokes Ava’s hair, twirling the crushed baby-curls at the back of her head and tickling her chin and neck to make her giggle.

Beth joins you after a little while, standing on a chair to help mix the batter and supervise your pancake-making with little bits of commentary.

“That one looks a w’ittle bit squished, Mommy. Daddy can have that one.”

“Thanks, Beth.” Steve’s voice is muffled behind his second cup of coffee.

“Welcome Daddy! Mommy, can I has that nice stuff on?”

“On what, sweets?”

“My pancakes.” You can hear her eye roll, the implied ‘duh, mom’ (thanks Auntie Max).

“The nice stuff? Syrup?”

“Yeah! Sir-yup.”

“Yeah okay. A little bit.” You flip another pancake, turning the chocolate chip face down onto the heated pan. “Do you want bacon on the same plate or on the side?”

“Um. Can I dip it?”

“In the syrup?”

“Yeah, in that nice stuff.”

“Yeah, you can try dipping it. Who taught you that?”

“Teddy.”

You smirk, “Steve, did you hear that? Betty’s taking after her Uncle’s eating habits.”

“Which one?”

“Ed. She’s gonna dip her bacon in syrup.”

“That’s my girl.”

Beth giggles and turns carefully on the chair to look at him. “No Daddy, you does it all over! You got to dip-dip.”

“Can you show me how?” Steve asks, he smiles over at her, looking so handsome with the baby standing in his lap now.

“Magic word?”

You snort-laugh, tucking your chin to your chest as your shoulders shake; you just about slide the pancake onto a plate without incident. Beth has one hand on her hip, a mini-Steve for sure, giving as good as she gets.

“Are you practising your magic for later?”

“Nooo Daddy. You has to say p’weeeeeeze-uhhh.”

“Okay-uhhhh. Please, pretty princess Bethany, can you show me how to dip my bacon in syrup?”

Bethany considers it and looks at you with a cheeky smile. “Yep! I show you, Daddy!”

You wink at her before helping her pour more batter onto the hot buttered pan, praising her careful steady hand.

“Beth, can you grab a bib for Ava please?” You’re almost done and know you’ll get it served up quicker if your helper has a special task.

“Yes! What colour?” her hot cocoa eyes shine with delight to help as you help her down.

“Surprise me. We have a Halloweeny one for later, so any one you like for breakfast time okay? Dealer’s choice.” You dot a kiss to her head before watching her scurry to check what colour her sister's sleep-suit is.

“There’s a laundry basket in the living room, babe. The bibs are on top. Do you need help?” Steve asks her, lifting Ava back into her chair before going to get forks and plates and glasses of juice for the table.

“No tank you.”

You lean back against Steve’s warm chest and tilt your head for a kiss. “Hi. I missed you.”

“Missed you more,” he murmurs, squeezing the tender spots on your hips as he kisses you slowly and sweetly. A proper kiss for the morning, tasting of coffee and shared banana and sneaked chocolate chips.

Your fingers brush his jaw, feeling stubble beneath soft fingertips. He won’t shave today, you hope he’ll string it out a couple of days into the work week.

After another hip-squeeze, he picks out cutlery and you notice how he squints into the drawer.

“Glasses.”

“Getting them next, chef.”

“No, your glasses Stevie. You’ll get a headache.”

“I have a headache. I’m blaming Rob for it.”

“It’ll get worse if you don’t put your glasses on, babe.”

You watch him mimicking your correctness with a scrunched nose as he picks out forks and knives. He knows you’re right but he doesn’t have to like it.

Steve gathers everything for breakfast, including Beth’s syrup.

“I’ll get them in a sec,” he murmurs behind you, waiting for Beth to return with a bib first.

You smile to yourself and start plating up.

“Beth, how are we doing on the bib?”

When he looks into the living room, Steve sees Beth with every clean bib around her as she decides.

“I can’t find one to match!” Beth’s face is a scowl.

“Babe, it doesn’t need to match. Just pick. Please.” Steve tries to be patient. Ava is getting impatient without food or distractions in the kitchen and he hears you chatter to her to try and help. He’s usually good at the diffuse and distract technique, a pro after quasi-parenting more than half a dozen teenagers.

“Can we do a-a spooky one?”

“Um. Sure. This one is kinda autumny?” He holds up the orange and yellow floral one, tiny flowers and green leaves.

“But Ava’s jammies is pink Daddy! It doesn’t go! It has to be spooky and match!” Beth’s voice turns whiney, a pout on her face.

Steve pops his head back into the kitchen where Ava is entirely unimpressed with being ignored as you bring over the plates. “Beth would really like it if Ava could have a Halloween bib now, and if it matched her pjs too…”

You watch him suppressing an eye-roll, knowing it would just hurt his head. He looks exactly like Beth.

“Um, check the laundry room? I left a couple out.” You peek around Steve and see Beth with all of the bibs around her. “Sorry, I should’ve just told her to check in there.”

“No, it’s fine. Beth, pick those up please and come wash your hands.”

Steve smooches Ava’s cheek as he passes and palms your side with a squeeze. He picks up a purple bib with bats and a white one with ghosts - he is hopeful that one will suit Beth’s specifications and taste. He has this Dad thing down to a fine art.

The bigger girl has clean and almost dry hands, pyjama sleeves rolled up her arms by your gentle mom-touch. Her face splits into a grin when Steve presents the choices.

“Yes! The pur-pellll!” she squeaks, bouncing on her feet.

He dips to pick her up, barely suppressing the dad-groan - but it’s quieter than last time. “My little fashionista, huh? Everything’s gotta match?” He pecks her nose, making it scrunch like a bunny’s.

When Ava’s got her bib on, distracted by cut-up pumpkin-shaped pancakes and berries (with one slice of bacon), Beth sits in her seat at the table in awe of the jack-o-lantern faces you have created.

“Spooky enough, babe?” You sip maple-sweetened coffee and smile at her little happy face.

Her hair is spilling over from her messy bedtime ponytail, which comes more loose as she nods furiously. “So cool! Tank you Mommy!”

“Super cool,” Steve agrees, winking at you across the table. “Thanks, baby.”

You’re just as sexy to him now, as you were last night with your messy hair and the well-loved teddy-print dressing gown. He notices his glasses case by his coffee and you wink back at him over the top of your mug.

With his world more in focus, Steve watches you smile at Ava as she shows you her chunk of pancake. You kiss her cheek, nuzzle into her milk-and-honey scented neck telling her you love her.

You feel like the littlest one hasn’t had your full attention this morning and you have missed her, feeling mom-guilt to the hilt. Steve will take on dish-duty once the plates are empty and bellies are full, giving you time with your girls.

There are a few last-minute decorations and chores you want to make time for in between kid-friendly movies, dressing the girls in their costumes - Beth as a tiny cute witch and Ava as a cosy pumpkin. The girls are your number one priority today, making core memories for them and taking one hundred and one photos for the albums. Ava is still too little to really soak it in but she takes enough notice to nourish her little mind.

You and Steve will fill out the candy for trick-or-treaters, and hold little hands when the girls go door to door in your own cul de sac. When they’re tucked up in bed, you will pick through the candy leftovers and curl up to watch one scary film followed by a non-scary one as a balm before you sleep.

For now, you sit back and share a loving smile with Steve, your socked feet brushing beneath the breakfast table.

What a treat.

Thank you for reading! Likes, reblogs and comments are absolutely adored and cherished ❤️

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x female reader #dad!steve harrington #dad!steve harrington x mom!reader #stranger things #stranger things fic #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington x fem #platonic stobin #platonic steddie #steve harrington fluff #bangaveragefics

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onlyswan · 2 years

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summary: in which jungkook doesn’t mind you waking him up— he just wishes it’s not when he’s in the middle of a good dream.

> fluff, suggestive / wc: 3.1k

> warnings: spider in the bathroom, mentions of alcohol, blood, and punches (nothing bad i promise <3) ; allusions to sex and a wet dream

note: welcome to another product of my insomnia, imagination, and real life experiences <3

—

“maybe we should have couple’s new year’s resolutions. it sounds more motivating if i have someone to do it with.” you utter absentmindedly before taking another sip of hot chocolate from your mug, legs crossed on the small couch, staring across the clear sky and the sunday morning life of the city.

the strumming of jungkook’s guitar ceases briefly before his fingers fiddle with the strings again. he looks up at you from his spot on the floor, a peach fluffy floor rug beside a potted bamboo palm.

“something like?”

“hmmm, sleeping early and waking up early?” you shift to look at him innocently, hugging your knees to your chest. “isn’t this nice? we don’t get to hang out in our balcony often.”

his curious expression turns sour, doe eyes squinting to glare at you as if to say you have got to be kidding me. you pout in response, feeling dejected because turns out he’s still not completely over your . . . unconscious mistake from earlier.

the annoying vehicle sounds that his instrument drowned out a while ago blare in your ears again. “how about we promise to stop disrupting each other’s dreams?”

“i don’t like it,” the frown remains painted on your face. “i only wake you up for emergencies!”

he tuts, straightening his crossed legs and leaning his back against the glass sliding door. “baby, an emergency would be a fire or a thief breaking in.”

—

you were kneeling on the floor, outstretched hands occupying your side of the bed. torn between waking jungkook up at 3am or getting the challenge accomplished on your own, you let your face fall on the bed as you pondered your options.

you did have a few round of drinks earlier that night, so it’s no wonder your bladder bothered your usual sleeping patterns. navigating the bedroom using blurry vision and wobbly feet, you hoped that your eyes were just playing tricks when you caught sight of a black creature crawling on the white bathroom wall. maybe it was one of those shapeless floating spots that dim your vision when you stand up too quickly.

however, the instinctive scream that left your mouth after you rubbed the sleep out of your eyes begged to differ. it was short, almost sounded like it got cut off. nevertheless, it was still loud. the door was left swung open, and you were only a step away from the floor mat. and yet, your boyfriend remained ignorant of his surroundings, absorbed in a dream where in he was a friendly and humble meat vendor in a kingdom among the clouds.

unfortunately, you really needed to go to the fucking toilet and there was only one person in this house fearless enough to face the evil barrier surrounding it.

and so, your hand curled around his bicep, and you allowed yourself another second of contemplation, before you gently shook his body awake.

“babe, wake up. please.”

he hummed in question tiredly, slowly stretching out his limbs and rolling over on his back. his eyes remained closed as he scratched at his cheek, sleep lines visible on his skin because his face got squished against the very corner of your pillow when he was sleeping.

“what’s wrong?” his voice came out rough and slurred, yet it was still laced with sweet concern.

“emergency! there’s a spider as big as my hand. in the bathroom. it’s by the trash, beside the toilet.” you explained swiftly in panic as you climbed on the bed, pulling at his arm in desperation. “if i don’t pee in the next three minutes, i’m gonna start crying.”

somehow, it’s easier to ask jungkook for something when he’s tired or sleepy. or both. he didn’t utter a single word as he dragged himself out of the bed. only, his lips formed a wince when his naked feet touched the cold ground.

“jungkook, put the prada boots down!”

he looked down at his hands holding the left foot of the boots he wore yesterday, before looking back at you. “why?” he was like a lost puppy, with his beady eyes and messy hair pointing at different directions.

“who kills a spider using expensive boots? use a slipper!”

“ah!” he exclaimed in realization, neatly placing it back next to its pair. “forgot i’m supposed to kill it.” he muttered to himself with a lazy smile.

“then what were you going to do with that?” you asked in bewilderment, but the question hung suspended in the air. he picked up one of your slippers beside the bathroom door before slipping inside.

and then you heard it, the sound of your thick slipper slapping the cold, tiled wall. you almost sighed in relief, until another thought entered your mind. you still feel uncomfortable with it inside your home, alive or not. when he came out empty-handed, you immediately stopped him from coming back to bed.

“throw it outside instead. please?”

and again, without a word, he did as you asked. he picked it up using tissue paper, and discarded it in the trash bin near the elevator of your apartment floor. on the other hand, you dashed to the bathroom the second they were gone.

“liar. it was only as big as half of my pinky.” jungkook grumbled as he made himself comfortable on the bed again, burying his face on your chest instead of your pillow this time around. your boyfriend— he tends to treat your body as if it’s softer than cotton.

“it shrank in fear when it saw you approaching.”

your hushed giggles harmonized in the dead of the night, warm bodies tangled underneath the comforter. “i love you. thank you for making it go away.”

the tender kiss of gratitude you granted to his temple made him keen. he stole a second goodnight kiss from your lips before dozing back to sleep, silently praying his dream would have a continuation— he was about to cater a feast in the palace.

—

“a spider in the bathroom is an emergency. it’s an unwelcome visitor! technically, if you think about it, it broke into our house.”

“it’s still not bad enough to be a code red.” jungkook attempts to reason, abandoning his guitar on the ground to crawl to you on his knees. you’re unable to protest as his hands cover yours, guiding the mug to his mouth. the soles of your feet automatically plant themselves on the floor to eliminate the possibility of hitting his face with your knees. “more like a code orange.”

“so we’re going by a coding system now?”

he swallows, and takes another sip of your hot chocolate. “should we? i just came up with it.”

“it sounds cute. and it’s very virgo of you.” you share a grin, as if you weren’t whining to each other about minute ago.

“then i think . . . we should say code blue when we can’t sleep.”

“why blue?”

“mhmm,” he hums, folding his arms over your lap before resting his chin on them, looking up at you with his starry eyes. “usually the reason why we can’t sleep is because we’re feeling blue.”

a breeze blows, causing strands of hair to escape from the black little claw holding back his long black hair. he closes his eyes instinctively, and you tuck them behind his ears so they won’t obstruct his vision again. when he cracks his eyes open, he’s greeted by your smile. kind. warm. golden. contrasting the blue sky behind you, making you the sun in his eyes.

“then what qualifies for a code red?”

the unsurprisingly vivid memories come rushing back to him. “code red is for emergencies like i said. and remember when you woke me up the other night? that also counts.”

—

jungkook sat up on the bed, retreating against the headboard while cautiously eyeing the perilous item held by your right hand. you could’ve sworn that you’ve never seen his round eyes look this big. he looked absolutely adorable. okay, maybe a little terrified, but adorable. with his pretty face bare and puffy from sleep. but for what it’s worth, your fuzzy memories could be betraying you. the culprits of your predicament: hunger and dehydration.

“why is there a butcher’s knife in our bedroom?”

you jutted out your bottom lip sadly, shrugging your left shoulder to focus his attention on the watermelon cradled by your arm. “i’m sorry for waking you up, but i can’t slice it open. i’m still too weak from working out.”

he opened his mouth as he was about to speak, but he closed it again. he carefully pried the knife away from you, climbing off the bed and hiding it behind his back. he started walking to the kitchen and you followed him idly, tightly embracing the heavy watermelon. with alertness, he felt your presence behind him, and he transferred the knife infront.

you refused dinner because you still felt full from the late lunch you had in the afternoon. however, the hunger striked at 2am, leaving you unable to sleep until you satisfy the monster in your tummy. you weren’t in the mood for anything that required to be cooked, you just wanted something easy to eat. the challenge with this fruit, though . . . it’s too damn hard to open.

you arrived at the kitchen, and you left the watermelon over the chopping board to allow jungkook to do his magic. he placed the butcher’s knife back in the wooden knife holder, grabbing the chef’s knife with his tattoed hand.

oh? you can get the job done with a knife that small?

“you looked scary holding that giant knife. this knife is fine, as long as it’s sharp.” you winced at his comment as you watched him flawlessly cut the watermelon in the middle, and then cut each of those halves into halves again.

“baby, did you try cutting it yourself?” he asked when he noticed the scratches on the green skin.

you smiled sheepishly. “maybe. but i gave up after two tries.”

he shook his head with a chuckle, handing you the first slice of watermelon he made. “just let me do it next time, okay?”

“okay. thank you, my love.” you took your first bite, observing him with sheer adoration as he sliced the rest of the watermelon for you.

after finishing your first slice in only five bites, you and jungkook covered the remaining three quarters with plastic wrap and put them inside the fridge.

“want me to cook?”

you shook your head without a word. you were too busy devouring another slice of watermelon, seated on the countertop.

“kimchi fried rice?”

“i’m fine. just go back to sleep, babe.” you hummed softly, wrapping an arm around him when he came in for a hug.

“okay,” he nosed at your neck, getting a whiff of your night-time moisturizer. “i was having a fun dream. we were on a vacation and we found out our hotel bathroom could travel us through time and space.”

“that sounds cool. i ruined it though, didn’t i?” needless to say, you felt guilty. you wanted to stroke his hair and lull him back to the sleep that you interrupted, but your hands were sticky from the juice dripping from your fruit.

“oh, you did.” he replied with a chuckle, lightly slapping your thigh before squeezing it. “but that’s better than waking up to find you bleeding all over the kitchen.”

—

“red because watermelon?”

“the blood, baby. the blood!”

you grimace, feeling offended. you’d argue that you aren’t as dangerous as he thinks, but unfortunately, today is not the day for that. you will not win.

“alright. so, code blue for when we’re feeling blue. code orange for fearsome threats. code red for life-threatening situations.”

he nods along as you list them down, his lips naturally pouting in concentration. “that sums it up. we can add more when we think of other scenarios.”

and it’s still silence for a while. you finish the rest of your hot chocolate, and jungkook is fixed on a weird position, randomly deciding to take a nap on your lap. it reminds you of bam, when he rests his chin on your knee while you pet him, and he just stays there until he almost falls asleep.

“don’t your knees hurt down there, love? sleep here instead.” you try to coax him into moving to the couch, concerned about his knees. also, the air from his nostrils is tickling your sensitive skin.

“it feels comfortable.” he answers with his eyes still closed, embracing your thighs tighter. “just don’t slap me again because that hurt.”

—

jungkook wasn’t quite sure what woke him up exactly. was it your loud gasp or the stinging pain that was blossoming on his cheek? when he cracked his eyes half-open, he saw you covering your mouth with your hand. your eyes were painted with horror, forehead creased in apparent distress.

“baby, what happened?” he croaked out, completely innocent and it killed you. out of curiosity, he touched his warm cheek.

before you, he only grew up living with brothers. adding this to the fact that he’s been training in boxing for years, the pain of a punch is very much dull to him at this point. oh, that slap? it felt more painful than any punch he’s ever received.

“i slapped you.” you squeaked out, mind disoriented and body numb from the shock of jolting awake to find out that you- “i didn’t mean to! it wasn’t on purpose! i’m sorry!”

jungkook stayed frozen, still unable to fully process the series of events that transpired, even after you just bolted out of the room screaming out an apology. too tired to go to the mirror, he used his phone camera to take a look at his cheek. to no surprise, his delicate skin has turned red. no wonder it fucking stings.

it was already 7:12 in the morning, and the sun is shining bright. he didn’t feel like going back to sleep anymore. he sat up when you came back with an ice pack, which you gingerly held to the affected area.

“you slapped me? did i do something bad in your dream?” he quizzed, eerily nonchalant, hand curling around your wrist to guide the ice pack to where he was hurting.

“i’m really sorry.” you sniffled, tearing up with guilt, and at the thought of how fucking ridiculous this was. “it wasn’t you . . . there was a thief who tried to snatch my bag and i- uhm, you know- i got angry and scared and i slapped his hand away. then i suddenly woke up and for a split second i thought i was still . . . dreaming.”

“so you slapped the thief again?”

you bowed your head in shame. “yes.”

“and you thought i was the thief?”

you nodded, slowly curling up into a ball to hide yourself from him. “it was so blurry. and he was wearing all black, too . . . does it hurt a lot?”

“not a lot.” he pressed a kiss on the top of your head to ease the tension, and his hand slid up to hold yours. “i’m not really mad about that but- i was having a really good dream, you know?”

“i ruined it again, didn’t i? i’m sorry.” you cried out, throwing your arms around him, face buried on his neck because you didn’t have it in yourself to meet his eyes yet. but still, you wanted him close.

one arm securely held the ice pack to his cheek, the other covered his eyes as soft laughter racked his body, still heavy from sleep. “don’t cry, baby. want to make breakfast together?”

—

that is how you and jungkook ended up at the balcony this morning, too tired to function and too awake to sleep. fortunately for him, the sugar worked well as a sedative. it didn’t for you, but you’re content with just sitting here. apparently, you’re more harmful in your sleep.

you sigh deeply, stroking his soft and smooth cheek with the back of your fingers. the redness is almost gone, thanks to the ice pack. “i’m sorry. i’ll try my best to never do it again.” you regretfully apologize for the nth time.

“you know, it’s not like i would ever steal from you, but that really taught me a lesson.”

“you don’t have to steal. i’ll give you whatever you want.”

and with that, jungkook’s spirit awakens. for a person who loves getting spoiled, those are some of the most dangerous words you can say. but he already got everything he could ever want or need, and he couldn’t care less about the tangible.

“no need to steal kisses?”

kisses. of course. his mind is always somewhere near the thought of kisses, almost as if it’s the house across the street.

“mhmm, no need. you can just come get one yourself whenever you want to.”

you should’ve thought of this form of persuasion earlier. he started feeling a little grumpy while cooking the eggs because he realized this was the second time you ruined a good dream of his in the past three days.

“give me one then. you haven’t kissed the pain away yet.” he cracks one eye open, waiting for it expectantly. you give him his well-deserved kiss on the cheek, lips curving into a small yet happy smile because what kind of superhero shit did you do in your past life to deserve the best boyfriend on earth in this one?

and then he’s climbing over you while holding your face between his hands, peppering you with an endless amount of kisses dipped in love and chocolate.

“jungkook!” you squeal with a laugh as you fall on your back. the empty mug slips away from your hand. it rolls on the floor, and you hear it bump into jungkook’s guitar before making a full stop.

“people can see us here. you know that, right? they might get the wrong idea.” you stifle a gasp when his lips reach the expanse of your neck. your restless hands grasp at the sleeves of his oversized shirt, supposedly to push him away, but why are you holding on so tightly?

“want to make that idea come to life in the bedroom?”

and in spite of your system getting clouded by his intimate affection, your suspicion begins to arise. “what was that good dream about again?”

damn, you’re smart.

he pushes up his weight against the cushion, and his dimpled naughty grin comes into view. the strands of hair you tucked behind his ears stubbornly escape to frame his handsome face.

“i’ll tell you about it in the bedroom too.”

—

taglist! @alanniys @jjkeverlast @queenofdragonsandcats @yvesismywife @enhypenslay @cramseys @witchfqllen @virgogentlejk @rkie @jeonwiixard @monilyv @bermudaisy @ameliejeannelaurent @takochelle @the1921-monsters @investedreader @seagulljk @yeow6n @yoonqkiss @hopeworldjimin @lllucere @unnatae @zqynmlk @bxbyyyjocelyn @zkdlllin @koostarcandy @tswisal1 @fragmentof-indifference @laylasbunbunny @jjk-jeongirl @cherishoshi @taexidriver @luaspersona @yn-lifeu + send an ask / dm if you want to be added (or removed) :D

#jungkook #jungkook fluff #jungkook drabble #jungkook scenario #jungkook imagine #jungkook one shot #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #bts fluff #bts reaction #jungkook angst #jungkook smut

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larkspurglove · 18 days

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I’ve been thinking about the ‘Ratio is Kavehtham’s kid’ thing I’ve seen floating around the internet and it’s actually kind of funny if you think about it because with how Ratio is it’s totally plausible that it’s because of how Kaveh and Alhaitham would’ve affected his personality as he grew up.

There’s the obvious of Ratio being a buff and blunt scholar, but while Alhaitham doesn’t give a fuck about most things, Ratio does. That’s where Kaveh comes in, because Kaveh cares about so much. Kaveh is a perfectionist and an empath and combined with Ratio’s inability to just walk away from an argument plus his ultimately altruistic goal of trying to ‘englighten’ so called idiots it’s clear how Kaveh influenced him.

Maybe Kaveh and Alhaitham would also influence how Ratio shows he cares in some weird way??? Like Kavehtham’s dynamic is very much ‘I hate you’ in public but ‘I care about you’ in private. Kaveh and Alhaitham bicker, but when it’s not about inane disagreements, it’s usually because one is afraid the other did something stupid that could’ve harmed them.

Like that’s lowkey what was happening in Penacony, even though we don’t really have much of a basis for Raturine’s real dynamic outside of a few brief moments in Penacony and the Final Victor lightcone (which like. Is probably not a good base)

The key indicative of what their actual relationship (to me) is was during 2.1 when Ratio was like ‘oh my god this gambler is being self destructive let me give him this so he doesn’t die for realsies’ and then Aven going ‘what the fuck why is ratio here he’s going to ruin our plan Sunday’s gonna realise he didn’t actually betray me fuck fuck fuck’

And while Ratio’s acting during the meeting with Sunday was moreso him resisting strangling Sunday, you could also claim that he gets his actor skills from Mr ‘I pretended to go insane from corrupt knowledge’ Alhaitham.

It would also be kinda funny if you think about it too hard because it would mean that Veritas Ratio, esteemed genius, somehow found a way to get past the Heavenly Principles just to escape his overbearing fathers.

#I miss kavehtham :(#no in game content for the two since 3.6 or something #I think so anyway #surely there’s gonna be the ‘Kaveh goes to fontaine and sorts out his mommy issues’ arc at some point right #honkai star rail #hsr #genshin impact #kavehtham #haikaveh #raturine #dr ratio #alhaitham #kaveh #aventurine #lark rambles #queue’d #lark analysiseseses

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trashogram · 2 months

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More HCY Fluff:

*** ‘—Full of shine and full of sparkle Close your eyes and see it glisten, Cha-arlie Listen, Charlieeee!’

Lucifer leaned in with a smile that split into a full grin as Charlie wiggled and giggled in his hands. Water was splashed here and there in the little sink-turned-baby-bath, and the Devil was grateful he’d positioned their little cathedral radio far away from its range.

The baby wriggled some more when Lucifer’s eyes flickered away for even the briefest second. Her love for attention wasn’t novel considering her lineage, but it was ever so endearing. Lucifer very, very gently washed the suds from her rich mop of hair.

‘Put on your Sunday clothes, there's lots of world out there… hm hm hmm…’ The King bobbed his head from side-to-side with the radio. ‘Hmm hm hm— in white, In a perfumed night Where the lights are bright as the stars!’

When all the suds were scrubbed away, Lucifer lifted the baby up and onto the nest of folded towels he’d made. He laughed as Charlotte instantly kicked around with her roly-poly legs. Who knew babies had so much energy!

She whined and Lucifer answered it with a coo. “Aww, it’s ok Char Char. Almost done!”

The new father focused on wiping away the bath water from Charlie’s apple cheeks and out of her fleecy hair. Instantly, the tiny antichrist smiled, chasing after his hand in the fibers of the cloth. Her tail instinctively wound around his wrist as much as it could, keeping him close.

After snuggly wrapping her up, Lucifer relented and took his daughter back into his arms, cradling her close.

‘—And we'll close the town in a whirl—’ He spun on his feet as carefully as he could before planting a big, dramatic kiss on the giggly girl’s cheek, ‘But we won't come home until we've kissed a girl!’

With Charlie laughing, and the sink draining, Lucifer soft-shoed out of the grand bathroom with the radio floating behind him.

Just in time, you were walking through the door, Razzle and Dazzle trotting at your heels. That technological doohickey that you’d carried around to run things was clutched in your hands, and many more were balanced on Dazzle’s back behind you as if he were a pack mule. Razzle was pushing a basket of scrolls forward opposite his brother.

Lucifer would have frowned had you not started humming along to the radio, most likely unconsciously. And, as soon as you looked up and saw his waiting grin as well as the bundle in his arms, you put it down on the nearest surface.

Another thing to chalk up to the ‘like father, like daughter’ saying: Charlie sensed your presence and squealed madly, happily, as soon as she spotted you. Lucifer had to shift the little girl in his arms to prevent her from flying out of his grip in her pursuit of you.

They met you in the middle of the bedroom, and Lucifer took a moment to soak up your appraising look. It was silly, but he felt proud presenting himself and your freshly cleaned child, all cozy and ready for bed.

“Oop!” Lucifer snapped his fingers together (barely, still preoccupied with holding the bouncing infant) and Charlie was fully clothed in a butter-yellow onesie. “Ready for bed now, ma’am!”

You snickered. “At ease, soldier.”

Lucifer smiled so widely it practically hurt, but his heart was light and his life was full. You gathered him up in your arms, with Charlie slowly settling down between the two of you, and the King couldn’t help the lovesick sigh that escaped him.

‘And this I'm positive of That we won't come home That we won't come home No we won't come home until we fall in love!’

#lucifer x reader #hazbin hotel #charlie morningstar #lucifer morningstar #hcy #More musicalsssss

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bellaramseysgf · 2 years

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I’m your God (E.M)

Warning(s); Innocent/crybaby! Reader,finger sucking,training,fingering,hand kink,choking kink,religious kink,daddy kink, casual dominance, mean!dom Eddie.

Pairing(s); Eddie Munson x girlfriend! Reader.

Summary; How can you believe in God when Eddie Munson exists.

A/n;…..just…. @toomanybandstocare thank me later.

Eddie Munson. He was your boyfriend. God.

You and Eddie met close to 4 months ago after his uncle drug him into your dads church. Wayne had found out about his little “deals” and wanted him to apologize to “god” even though Eddie didn’t believe in shit.

You were stood at the front in you little pink Sunday dress, your hair curled just like your father liked. You kept your makeup down to a minuscule amount because it was something your father never liked on “young girls” you were 19. You weren’t a child. “Thank you for your help darling” your father smiled and ran his fingers through your hair.

The church doors swung open and in walked a very angry Wayne and a boy he was dragging by the collar of his jacket. “Wayne!” Your dad clapped his hands “what has you here so early?” You stared at the boy. You remember him, where from? “Eddie?” You asked and the boys eyes snapped to yours. What in gods name was Eddie “The freak” Munson doing inside a church.

“You know him?” Your father asked and you shook your head “just went to the same school.” Your father furrowed his brows “isn’t he like 21?” “20.” Eddie corrected and huffed fixing his jacket dusting it off. “You’re still in high school? Are you dumb?” You gasped “dad! Don’t say that!” Your father rolled his eyes.

“Well?” Wayne prompted and Eddie scoffed “you’re serious? I don’t even believe in this shit and you want me to apologize? For what? That money is what has kept us floating. Fuck you.” Eddie huffed out “that’s quite enough!” Your father yelled, voice booming through the church. “Do it or you won’t be coming back into my trailer.” Eddie looked at his uncle who was actually dead-pan serious.

With a roll of his eyes Eddie reluctantly dropped to his knees in front of the alter, just so happened that was in front of you. He lifted his eyes up to yours that were locked in on his Eddie smiled up at you almost like a devil. It made your blood pump faster,your cheeks flush and it had you pressing your thighs together. You couldn’t take you eyes off the man knelt before you. “Forgive me father, for I have sinned. I’m sorry to disgrace your name and will.” He huffed and looked back at his uncle prying his eyes from your.

You sucked in a breath you didn’t realize you were holding at that moment. “Good enough?” Eddie stood back up, and that was how everything else started. The late nights with him,sneaking out to meet him at the lake,him willingly coming to church just so he could see your pretty face.

You know your dad doesn’t like him but you don’t wanna date some perfect,church going boy. You want eddie. Eddie’s yours and you’re his.

“Cmon, pumpkin. You gotta get out of this phase. Why don’t you date that carver boy? He’s nice” you scoff “nice? He Bully’s half of Hawkins high.” Your dad sighs “he doesn’t even believe in God. How’s he gonna be a good man? Father? Huh?” You glared at your father “why do you get to assume that I want that? I don’t want kids dad.” He rolled his eyes “just, go. If you refuse to listen I’m not going to waist my breath on something useless.” You sniffled.

Useless? Surely you aren’t. You always help…you aren’t useless.

You sniffled wiping at your wet eyes hiccuping when you walked right into someone. “Hey- whoa, y/n? Are you okay?” You looked up with blurry eyes at Gareth, one of Eddie’s closet friends. You shook your head and he wrapped a arm around your shoulders. “Cmon, Eddie’s down here at the café” you nodded and allowed him to lead you away.

You stepped inside the small building, it smelled of sugar and coffee. The second Eddie saw you he was standing up and you were running over. “Honey? Baby, what happened. Why’re we crying?” You clung to his chest crying into his shirt. Eddie crouched down his hands coming to rub away tears “princess, cmon talk to me. What happened?” You just shook your head and wrapped your arms around his neck. “Just want daddy” Eddie lifts you up and let’s you cling to his chest until you fall asleep.

Eddie was so fed up with your father the amount of times eddie had comforted you after your dad made you cry was uncountable. Eddie didn’t mind it though, found it so sweet how you’d cling to him while whining that you ‘just wanted daddy’ made his pride feel good.

Eddie had you splayed out on his couch inside his trailer his fingers prodding the back of your throat. You’d learned though, you swallowed around his fingers to keep from gagging. “Ah, good girl, learning so fast.” You hummed dreamily around his fingers, this always calmed you down Eddie found out. He knew it was a oral fixation but you didn’t need to know that.

He was able to train you while giving you exactly what you needed. Pulled his fingers from your mouth with a pop. You whined loudly “I still want them, daddy.” Eddie smiled “I know but I think that they’d be better touching somewhere else don’t you?” Your cheeks turned pink as you nodded. “Yes, daddy want that” always so honest, just the most obedient, clueless pet.

It wasn’t the first time Eddie fingered you and it wouldn’t be the last, you loved Eddie’s cock being inside you more then anything else. “Gonna get daddy’s cock?” Eddie shook his head “mmm, not tonight babydoll.” You pouted but didn’t argue with him because you knew better. Eddie slipped his hand under your skirt and slid your panties over sinking his spit covered fingers inside with ease.

“Oh god!” You moaned out and Eddie smiled “that’s it, good girl” he praised his open hand pressing down on your stomach. Eddie started to move his fingers and your brain immediately shut down. All you could do was just moan out “oh my god” again and again. “You know, it’s not god making you feel good it’s me. Is that what I am to you baby? A god? You gonna worship me? Beg me for forgiveness when you do wrong?” You nod desperately as Eddie’s fingers work you towards a brain melting release.

“Then you should know this is a sin sweetheart, having sex before marriage is a bad thing. You’re a bad little girl. Worst in the bunch” you felt warm tears pricking your eyes “am I really b-bad daddy?” He nods a small pout forming on his lips. “Mhm, you are baby, you know you should beg me to let you cum. That’s the only way to make it better. You gotta say ‘please daddy let me cum’ you can do that.” You nodded.

“Please….please daddy let me….me cum” you whined your hips bucking to meet his knuckles as he fucked you with his fingers. “But I can’t let you cum baby. I’m a god and that’s just sinful. You should apologize” you whimpered. It was hard enough to get that out why’s he being mean.

You blinked up at him, your doe eyes entrapping his own puppy brown eyes. “Forgive me…oh god…..f-forgive me my…my god for I have sinned…ta…take away the bad things I’ve done.” You babbled it, most of it incoherent you were going dumb. “Daddy? I can cum now right? It’s better? did good!” You were crying now wanting it. Craving it. Needing your release.

“That’s a good girl, mhm you can cum baby go ahead. Covers daddy’s fingers like the good cumslut you are sweet princess.” You do too, your body clamped down on his fingers as overwhelming pleasure racked your body.

Eddie knew just how to take care of his pretty babygirl and he was always going to.

You sat on Eddie’s lap licking at the cone of cream he’d bought you. He gently tugged your chin away from the sweet treat “easy, don’t give yourself a brain freeze baby.” You nodded and ate slower to Eddie’s approval. “Thank you bug” he pecked your cheek and you smiled widely.

You were sat at a big table with his friends, you had your favorites them starting with Gareth and ending with a very cute Robin. You held the half eaten cone out to Eddie and he chuckled “you done? Poor baby, S’Too much huh?” You nodded and Eddie smiled beginning to eat what you couldn’t. You’d lick drips off his lips or cheeks every few minutes and he’d let you his hold on you never wavering. “What time is it?” You asked and Steve checked his watch “it’s going on 8pm” you groaned “my curfew”

“Don’t worry baby I’m sure your dad will be fine if you’re a few minutes late” you nodded “he won’t care that it’s me that’s late.” Eddie rolled his eyes “hey, look at me” Eddie hooks his finger under your chin “I don’t give two fucks about what that ugly old man has to say about me alright?” You nodded and giggled. “He’s not that old….he’s only 58” Eddie chuckled “yeah, that’s old peach” you giggled and laid into his hold on you.

“You’ll always be here, right daddy?” He nodded “of course babydoll! Can’t leave my little girl alone.” You smiled and kissed his cheek. “Who else will you beg for forgiveness when you’ve sinned, hmm?” Your cheeks went red and you hid your face in his neck as he chuckled.

#eddie munson #fem reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x you #eddie stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things smut #tw; religious kink #dom!eddie #daddy!eddie #tw; daddy kink

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leadpoisioning · 2 years

Text

Xavi Doesn’t Know

Tyler Galpin x Fem!Reader

SMUT (18+) ((oral, car sex, phone sex?, jealous!xavier, possessive!tyler))

Word Count: 1,204

Xavier doesn’t know that you and Tyler do it in his car every Sunday, that when you’re shopping Tyler’s really not stopping and it’s a three way call and Xavi doesn’t even know.

“Hey, (Y/N)!” Xavier calls out to you, jogging to meet you where you stand in the courtyard. You take a deep breath before turning to the taller boy. Everyone knew Xavier was infatuated with you, ever since you spoke to him during orientation on the first day of freshman year. Unfortunately, he never mustered up the courage to actually do anything about the feelings he had, other than harbor them. You waited, you really did, but eventually his game got tiring and you found someone else.

“Yeah what’s up?” You nod.

“Do you want to hang out in my shed on Sunday? I was thinking we could have a chill day, like we used to.” You cringe at the mention of Sunday. You already had plans.

“Sorry Xavi, I’m already going to a church thing with Wednesday.”

“Oh, okay! No problem, some other time then.” You smile politely and nod, watching as he trudges away. It killed you to lie to him, but he’d hate you if he knew what you were really doing.

“Oh shit baby-“ Tyler gasps bucking up into your mouth. Your hand rests on the center console of his car while you bob your head up and down, messily drooling all over his cock. He screws his eyes shut, focusing on the heavenly feeling of your tongue. His knuckles turn white, gripping the steering wheel as if it might float away. “I’m so close baby, I can’t hold it much longer.” He breathily warns. His noises spur you on, going faster as he gasps harder. Tyler can’t find the words to say anything as his hips stutter, cum shooting up into your mouth. You swallow what you can, and clean his cock with long swipes as his chest heaves. His hand grabs your neck, bringing you to his face for a sloppy kiss. You slide over onto his lap from your seat and kiss him harder.

Meanwhile, Xavier is sat in his wooden chair at his desk. He rolls his eyes and tears out the doodle, throwing the crumpled page to the floor amongst the countless others. He runs a hand through his hair. He hated liking you this much. Too bad Xavi doesn’t know that you do it in Tyler’s car every Sunday.

A few days later he tries again. You and Enid sat next to each other, talking about some assignments.

“Hey, I was thinking we could reschedule that hang out sesh for today if you weren’t busy.” He sheepishly grins. You frown.

“I’m sorry, Enid and I were gonna go shopping in town today.” You and Enid were going into town, except Ajax was coming along as well and you’d be dropped off at Tyler’s house. His mouth draws into a thin line as he nods curtly.

“That’s fine, you two have fun.” He huffs walking off, discouraged but not completely set off.

“Harder, Tyler please-“ You whine, your legs drawing him in by his waist. He obeys, leaning down to kiss you as he does so, swallowing your increasingly loud moans. Your hand curls into his hair, gripping it tightly as he groans into your mouth. His cock feels so nice rutting into your pussy.

“Bet our little friend Xavi can’t fuck you this good.” He snidely remarks, having pulled away from your mouth just to comment in your ear. You shake your head quickly.

“No- only you, only you can fuck me this good-“ You babble, feeling the heat in your stomach grow. Tyler smirks at your quick assurance and dips his hand down to your clit, rewarding you.

“Good girl, that’s right.” He hisses with pleasure as your pussy squeezes his cock. He swirls a finger around your clit faster until your hips are bucking up into his, cumming as he finishes in your pussy. He gives you a few more rolls of his hips, making sure his cum is deep in you, before pulling out.

Xavier carefully moves his hand, making the painting before him come to life. You sat on a blanket in the grass, smiling through the paper. He sighs, slamming the sketchbook shut. He was never going to have that, not if he didn’t man the fuck up and tell you what exactly he wanted. He wasn’t ever completely honest with his intentions, he figured that’s what kept pushing you away. He was going to call you, and instead of tip-toeing around it he was going to ask you out.

“On your hands and knees, baby.” Tyler kisses you before letting you bend over. He gently grabs your ass and presses it back against himself. Your pussy clenching around nothing as he lightly slaps it with his hard cock. Right as he’s about to slide home, your ringtone goes off. Tyler picks up the phone and sees Xavier’s face light up on the screen. Smirking, he clicks answer and tosses the device near your head.

“Hello?” You answer, kind of annoyed about the interruption. Tyler makes it a little more bearable by easing into you.

“(Y/N)! Hey, I really needed to talk to you about something serious. Are you able to talk right now?” You roll your eyes, biting your lip as Tyler slides in and out of your cunt slowly.

“Yeah I’m good, what’s up?”

“Well, I’ve been thinking a lot lately. About me and you, us, I mean…” Tyler speeds up his thrusts. “I know why you’ve been avoiding me, and I totally get it! You’ve been wanting me to just be straight up with you.” He states, you’re trying not to moan or laugh into the phone. Tyler wraps a hand around your waist and toys with your clit.

“Xavier, I-“ You quietly muster.

“Wait, I’m not done.” He interrupts.

“Me neither.” Tyler murmurs, you squeeze his cock, making him chuckle softly.

“(Y/N), will you go out with me?” You gasp as Tyler hits a spot deep inside of you, no doubt getting off on this conversation. A three way call and Xavi doesn’t even know. Xavier waits, hearing the gasp and getting excited for your acceptance.

“I’m sorry Xavier, it’s just- ah- you really should’ve told me sooner.” You try your best to sound sorry for him while pleasures fill your senses. The line stays quiet. Tyler reaches for the phone and holds it between his ear and shoulder while he grips your hips for more leverage.

“I’m sorry Thorpe, you snooze; you lose.” He pouts, letting Xavier hear the sinful slaps of his skin against yours before hanging up. When the phone is out of sight, he continues thrusting- harder and deeper than before. You finally let out the pent up moans and push back against his cock. He leans over you to whisper in your ear. “So good for me, denying him while my cock is deep inside your pretty little cunt.” Your breathy moan is all he needs to hear before stilling his hips and filling you up once again while your cum mixes with his, dripping onto his sheets below.

Xavier throws his phone across the dorm room, the device clattering to the ground. He couldn’t believe he was so trusting. Xavi just didn’t know.

#wednesday #x reader #wednesday netflix #tyler galpin #xavier thorpe #tyler galpin x reader smut #tyler galpin smut #smut

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steddiecameraroll · 1 year

Text

It Takes a Muscle to Fall In Love - Part 3

Part 1 Part 2 Part 4 Part 5

“Dude, it was so epic. We spent all weekend at Mike’s. Eddie’s campaign was one for the ages. I wish we could do that every weekend.” Dustin trails behind Steve while he restocks the shelves with returns.

“I’m sure Ted Wheeler loved you being there all day.” Steve wasn’t completely listening but trying to capture enough to stay engaged.

When Dustin got on his D&D rants, Steve’s brain always wanted to go into shutdown mode, and it takes active effort to pay attention.

“Not just during the day, Steve. We all spent the night too. Even Eddie and Eddie never does that. Started Friday, and I only got home at 8 pm on Sunday. I’m telling you, EPIC!” Dustin bounces around and misses when Steve pauses, slamming their bodies together.

Steve hits his elbow on the nearby shelves and groans. “Damnit, dude.”

“Sorry, sorry, shit.” Dustin helps Steve into a standing position. “You ok?”

“Yeah, just watch where you’re going.” Steve straightens his vest. “What do you mean all weekend?”

“All weekend.” Dustin shrugs. “We played all night at Mike’s after school on Friday. Then had a sleepover and played all day Saturday. Slept over again, and the only reason we stopped when we did was ‘cause Eddie had to get home and have Sunday dinner with Wayne.”

Steve absorbs that timeline information and tries to figure out when Eddie would’ve had a date interspersed in there. He knows about Sunday dinner. It’s the only time Wayne and Eddie’s schedules line up, so definitely not a lie to get away for a date.

“Did Eddie leave at any time?”

“No? Like in the middle of the campaign?”

“Yeah, for an hour or two? Just at any time?” Steve can feel a prickle crawl up the back of his neck.

“No,” Dustin furrows his brow. “That would’ve been weird.”

“Ha, yeah, yeah, weird. For sure. But… uh, did he mention plans of his getting canceled or something? For this weekend?” Steve’s stomach twists at the implication he’s uncovering.

“No, he’d been building that campaign for weeks and on the Hellfire calendar just as long. We were forbidden to make plans on those days. He would’ve banned us for life. There’s no way he had plans.”

“Oh,” Steve’s stomach drops, and he suddenly needs to escape.

He shoulders around Dustin, slams the videos in his hands down on the counter, surprising Robin where she stands, and stomps toward the employee-only door in the back.

“Steve?” Robin’s voice floats through the door before it shuts behind him.

He paces in the tiny cramped space trying to parce his thoughts together.

He feels so stupid.

Eddie hated it so much that he lied.

His blood boils as frustration seeps through his veins. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. As the back door creeps open, he kicks a nearby folding chair, sending it toppling against the locker-lined back wall.

“Fuck.” He covers his face and huffs in anger.

“Steve?” Robin’s voice is soft and cautious.

“He lied, Rob.” Steve tosses his hands to his sides and stumbles back, leaning against the wall.

“Who?” She props the door open to listen for any customers and slides up to Steve’s side.

Steve nervously glances at the open doorway while chewing on his bottom lip.

“I kicked Dustin out. What happened? I thought you two were talking about his D&D thing this weekend.” She nudges his shoulder with her own.

“Eddie,” his voice wobbles. “He-he lied to me. He told me he had this…thing this weekend. But he didn’t. Why would he do that?” He wraps his arms around himself, trying to ignore the burning in his chest.

“What thing? That doesn’t seem like him.”

“I know, um…just this thing.” He pushes himself away from the wall and starts pacing again. “I thought we were…I don’t understand why he would lie. I mean, he coulda talked to me. Told me he wasn’t interested. But instead, making up this whole thing as if I couldn’t figure it out. Shit.”

“Dingus, I’m gonna need a bit more context here to give valuable advice.” Robin’s eyes follow Steve back and forth.

“No, you know what? It doesn’t matter. Screw it.” He shakes his head and hears the tinkle of the front door. “Perfect, a distraction.”

Steve plasters his fake customer service smile on his face and strides through the back door when his eyes take in the customer.

“Stevie!” Eddie throws his arms up and smiles wide.

“Get out.” Steve keeps his voice calm even though his fingers are itching to grab the man by the shirt collar and scream at him for an explanation.

“What?” Eddie’s smile slips from his face.

“Eddie, maybe the two of you should talk later.” Robin appears behind Steve.

“I don’t understand.” Eddie looks between the pair anxiously.

“I don’t want to see you right now.” Steve’s entire body is shaking.

“W-what?”

“Don’t you have a…date to get to?”

Eddie’s eyes widen. He glances at Robin, seeing a look of confusion strewn across her face, and then he reflects back at Steve. If Steve weren’t so honed in on Eddie’s movements, he would’ve missed the exact moment Eddie felt the weight of his lie crumble down on him.

Eddie nods nervously and backs away. “I didn’t-“

Steve shakes his head, his jaw clenched tightly, trying to bite back his anger.

The bell above the front door cuts through all three of them when a mother and child enter the store, breaking the moment. Eddie bows around them and nods to Steve, glancing apologetically at Robin before heading outside.

Steve’s eyes track Eddie until his van has pulled out of the parking lot and driven away.

Tag list (let me know if you want to be added or removed): @sunfloweringstories @solalasoforth @blackpanzy @gw3n-st4cy @starman-jpg @sofadofax @goodolefashionedloverboi @stxrcrossed186 @loguine-linguine @vampireinthesun @unclewaynemunson @saganarojanaolt

#steddie #steddie fanfic #I promise a happy ending #comfort will come #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #steve x eddie #steddiecameraroll posts #my writing

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delirium1217 · 1 month

Text

Gold Rush, Red Flush

720 word count Regulus tells James what he thought about him during their school years. [Post war AU/established relationship]

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“Do you think,” James busies himself, worrying the blue fabric of Regulus’ sweater. They’re sprawled out on the living room couch, it’s late afternoon. They had nowhere else to be. “Do you think in another universe, we could’ve realized this earlier?” “What, like when we were kids?” Regulus frowns. He’s looking down at James’ fingers, like they’re something worth staring at. “Well, yeah, I suppose.” “I-uhm, well.” Regulus turns his head away towards the window. The light catches the crown of his hair - unruly waves grown too long. “What, is it that difficult to imagine?” “No. Quite the opposite.”

That makes James pause. “Reg, did you- is this something you thought about before?” He stays silent. James is subsequently intrigued. He laughs. “You have! You have! Don’t tell me - on the quidditch pitch?” James is entertained by that little scenario for a little bit more than what is appropriate. Regulus glances back at him. The intensity of his stare. This wasn’t- it was real. “Oh.” James simply says. “Yeah.” Regulus replies, soft. He’s close. So close. Did James know how fragile this was? “What, since…the beginning?” “No, I’m not that pathetic.” Regulus almost smirks, but no, his expression was still twisted. “When, then?” James swallows. His heart in his throat. “Probably when I was fifteen.” His face is resting on his right hand. His eyes search James’ face - what was he looking for? “God, I despised you for the longest time. I thought you were the driving force behind everything wrong in my life.” “Strong start,” He laughs lightly. James is afraid of this conversation. This is - it’s heavy. He could feel it settling on his chest. Drowning him. “Yeah, well, you weren’t. I wish it was that simple.” Regulus whispered. He was floating again. “All that hate fizzled into something that pestered me every day till I got myself to look at it.” “So, what did you find?” he finds himself whispering too. “You.” They both pause, startled brown meeting grey. James thinks could live in this moment. Burrow himself deeper and deeper till the stale air of a lazy Saturday is what sustains him. Fragile. “I-it’s- I think I-um,“ “Oh god, I’ve broken you.” “No, no. It’s just. I never thought about you like th- I mean, you were my best friend’s-“ “James, it’s fine. I know I was being delusional,” “Hey, I didn’t say that.” He paused, he needed to get this right. “Did I notice you? Of course I did, you were gorgeous- are, I mean. I just, you always looked like you were two seconds away from killing me,” He groaned. This was a disaster. “I was, for the longest time,” Regulus’ voice has dropped down to a whisper again. His hands touch James’ hair. Barely there. “Then I realized I just wanted to touch you,” He does, lowering his hand and eyes to his lips. His fingers just grazing them. James’ breath hitches. This was impossible. “So, where do we meet?” “What?” “In that universe. I bet you’ve given this some thought,” he can’t help doing this, he slips into this role so easily- as easy as breathing. “I am not entertaining this, James.” He’s smiling, a small little thing. “Okay, then I will. I think, we meet every Sunday after Quidditch practice.” He looks into Regulus’ face. He really could see it, disheveled and sweaty and frustrated after practice. Crashing into James in ways neither of them understood. “The locker rooms are usually abandoned. Everyone would assume we were each doing individual drills, or something. Maybe fifth year - Merlin, I was so frustrated at you. For so many things, the least of which had to with Gryffindor lagging behind.” He’s saying too much, this was too much. “I- that year, I thought so many times about walking up to you. I always wondered.” Regulus says. It rests between them, uneasy. The what if-s. The space between love and hate. The emotion that spills out of him catches him off guard. Regulus is still close. His eyes look more alive than ever. Alight with all that could’ve been. “And then what?” James whispers. “And then we wreck it all to pieces.” Regulus whispers back. James almost gasps. “Is that what we’re always meant to do?” “Maybe.” “How about this universe?” “I’m still deciding.”

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originally published on Ao3. Part of a larger work but I thought it worked quite well on its own!

#james potter #regulus black #jegulus #sunseeker #starchaser #james x regulus #regulus x james #jegulus microfic #marauders microfic #jegulus fanfiction #marauders fanfiction #marauders #the marauders #marauders era #dead gay wizards #delirium writes

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spideystevie · 1 year

Text

single thread of gold (tied me to you)

word count: 1.2k

a/n: tell jesus...that the bitch is back. HIII have had insane amounts of writer's block lately but have been getting into the groove again and thus, this was born. truly just overly "poetic" fluff with, like, no plot. i've missed steve and i've missed YOU guys!!!! i hope you like <3

Fate wasn’t an idea you bought into. Invisible strings, serendipitous meetings, everything happened with cause and effect.

Then, you met Steve and fate seemed to be something that had a lot more pull in your life than you ever realized. How else could you explain a mini version of your Steve pouting in the background of a childhood photo of you at the park? Or the distinct color of the green jacket you wore all the time in the corner of a picture of Steve on vacation his junior year?

You’re sure there had to be signs you were oblivious to. Twists of fate tugging on the respective end of the string that tied the two of you together, pulling this way and that until you fell together. It seems like the stars aligned the day you met, everything slowly starting to fall into place the more you wove your lives together.

It’s a pretty thought now, the idea of fate and serendipity.

A tethering thread, thin as fishing wire and painted gold, is wrapped snug around your hearts. It’s naked to the eye but you can feel it give your heart a gentle squeeze whenever Steve smiles, each time he brushes his thumb over the curve of your cheek, down to your jaw.

It digs into the flesh even now, sets your skin alive as he stands behind you, arms wrapping around your shoulders and holding you close against him. It’s instinctive the way your hands come up to hold onto his forearms. Your head lolls to one side, nearly resting against the pillow of muscle in his bicep near your ear.

You wonder if this is too much for the grocery store on a Sunday. After all, you’re just trying to pick out a new cereal to try for breakfast. Steve wants anything chocolate and your nose crinkles, unsure if you agree. He tries his best to smooth the wrinkle along the bridge of your nose away with a kiss.

It works, though his kiss presses more so to the skin beneath your eye than your actual nose. You don’t mind. You never mind when it comes to Steve’s kisses on your skin.

He talks you into cocoa puffs, keeps one arm wrapped around you as he reaches to grab the box and put it in your shopping cart. He spoon feeds you a couple mouthfuls when you get home and all the groceries have been put away. When he kisses you it’s almost artificially sweet like the chocolate from his cereal.

You push his hair back from his forehead, dipping to press a kiss between his brow. His eyes close on contact and a wispy smile creeps onto his face. When you straighten, his hair falls back into place and you ruffle it with your hand. He swats it away with a playful scrunch of his nose that makes you laugh.

“I was thinking tonight we could go out for dinner, see a movie maybe,” you say, leaning against the counter. Steve swivels on the barstool, his knee nudging your thigh. The spoon clinks against the bowl, stirring up the last few lonely pieces of cereal floating in the milk.

He reaches for your waist, pulling you to his lap with an ease that’s grown over the years. You sit on his thigh, back against the edge of the counter and both legs dangling in the space between his. Like some kind of magnetic force, your hand comes back to his hair, pushing the loose strands of fringe away from his forehead again.

A gooey admiration pools like honey in his eyes as he looks up at you. He smiles, a little dopey, when your nails scratch against his scalp.

“Hmm, do I get to pick the movie?”

“I think that can be arranged,” you murmur, a smile etched on your face. You seem to do that a lot you realize, a near permanent upturn of your lips whenever Steve’s around. You can’t help it, a reflex after this many years together.

Steve feels the tug of that thread around his heart right now, with your hand fallen against the back of his neck and the sweetest lovesick smile on your face. He can’t get enough of you, not that he’d ever want to. Steve loves the insatiable feeling that comes with loving you.

“Then it’s a date,” he responds, the insides of his body feeling heavy and warm from the amount of adoration coursing through him. He’s not sure he’ll ever get used to it. Like he can’t take it anymore, he pinches at your side and relishes in the giggling squeal that escapes you as you fold at the side and lean away.

“Steve,” you try to go for chastising, your hand smushing against his face and pushing him away when he tries to pinch again, but it comes out half-hearted and through a laugh. It mixes with his, a hearty melodic sound that you never tire of hearing.

You move to stand, your feet just barely touching the ground before you’re pulled back tight against him. He noses against your neck, lips ghosting against the skin there. You twist your neck to face him as his face comes up from its spot against your neck.

Steve’s eyes scan your face, redrawing each feature from memory each time he blinks. His nose nudges against yours, squishes against your cheek when he presses his lips to yours. A feeling like coming home, a mutual squeeze around your hearts that comes each time you kiss.

When you pull back, he steals one, two, three more kisses from you until you’re left a giggling mess, smile wide and blinding and eyes shining like the stars. He’s never seen a prettier sight. Another kiss is stolen, this one silencing your giggles with the intensity of it. You blink hard, a little dazed when he pulls away.

Steve’s nose brushes against your hairline, his lips ghosting over your temple. That same cheek-aching smile returns to your face, a bit softer this time, fuzzy around the edges. Your whole body feels that way, a whole gaussian blur of a lover as you look at your boyfriend.

His eyes soften and his head tilts in question, “What?”

“Jus’ love looking’ at you,” you say, voice a gentle hug. I love you is what it means, til the end of time and then some. Steve understands, of course he does. Your serendipitous, fated love. His eyes crinkle at the corners from how big his smile grows, your favorite sight. One of your hands reaches to hold his face, thumb brushing against the wrinkled skin.

“Funny,” he muses, voice dripping with fondness for you, “was just thinking the same thing ‘bout you.”

Your heart soars and you can feel yourself sinking further into the deep end of the pool of his adoration for you. Positively lovesick, you bring his face down to yours again to kiss him silly.

That tethering string wraps almost painfully, suffocatingly tight around your hearts. If you could die from so much love, well, it wouldn’t be such a bad way to go.

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfic #📝: a writes!

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siriusleee · 1 year

Text

rebehold the stars

a/n: i spent hours in the bathtub trying to picture this in my head. anyway, thank you to everyone who commented. you guys are great. pairing: ghost x medic!reader (hazy) tags: semi-romantic, religious symbolism and imagery, dying, gunshot wound, blood, lots of cursing, lots of switching between character pov, obvious ptsd

2.4k words part one Thence we came forth to rebehold the stars. - Dante Alighieri, Inferno

Rifle between your shoulder blades, you hit the deck; an alchemist sentenced to the tenth bolgia. A mystic who made false promises to keep a man alive when he's bleeding out before you.

Men. Not man.

"Wha' the fuck are ya?"

Blood seeps in between the fabric of your shirt - Achilleus in the dirt descending to the second circle. It takes a few moments before you realize the guy screaming at you isn't speaking another language - he's just Scottish.

Scottish.

Not American.

His rifle digs into your shoulder painfully.

"Soap!"

A second pair of boots enters your vision, you keep your eyes trained on the doorway. The ambulance scream grows fainter in the distance. They're arguing above you, but you're too busy thinking about the rifle cutting into your back to care.

Zip ties around your wrist and you're hauled to your feet. The neighbors stare through the blinds, unwavering as they watch you get shoved into the back of a black SUV. The man who shoved the rifle in your back takes a shotgun. The youngest who listened to you about the towel takes the seat to your left.

They don't put a bag over your face as you speed away.

Fuck.

***

This must be his punishment for his sins - the screaming and blinding lights. Whatever is above him - they aren't angels. His mom used to say that those who repent go to paradise. I have not come to call the righteous, but sinners to repentance. The verse comes back so clearly to him now - Sundays in the pew, hours spent away from home. Baseless hope that things would change. Would get better. Will get better.

Hands tear him apart; his atoms smashing together. A nuclear reaction waiting to implode. A stifled scream around the torture in his throat.

There are no halos above him now.

Hazy. Her name was Hazy.

***

They leave you in a cold room to let the blood set sticky on you. It takes hours, but a woman walks in - a crisp white shirt mocking you across the table. She slides a file across the table at you - you don't need to look at it to know it's yours. Your name rolls off her tongue, nearly foreign in her clipped speech.

"Call sign Hazy. You did two tours as an Air Force Combat Pararescue member. One of them with the SEALs in a classified mission in the Middle East. Then you quit."

"I did."

"What did you do after that?"

"ER nurse."

"Not anymore?"

No.

No. You couldn't keep doing the death and destruction. Breathing wounds on a Tuesday night. Bodies smashed against the asphalt. Grown men begging for their moms. God's divine punishment on his will-less puppets for a long-forgotten transgression.

"How did you manage to get one of my operates on your table?"

"Kismet."

Maybe God smiles down sometimes.

***

Simon floats between here and there.

Angels in white veils, bloodstained hands lifting him from the ground to smash him back down moments later. His father stumbling into the kitchen, the ground yawning beneath him to swallow him. His mom shaking hands with the preacher, the same hands that refuse to defend themselves later.

Johnny in Mexico, Gaz hanging from a helicopter. Price reaching out to pull Laswell up. Angels reaching down to sift through them - divine judgment.

Our hands get dirty.

Words break through - voices he recognizes cutting through the veil.

-not a coma.

Johnny telling Simon's jokes to someone.

Always a fucking joke thief.

Warm hands poking and prodding him. Cold air on the tip of his nose.

The outline of an angel above him - golden halo shining when she reaches down to pull him close to her; away from the hell he's been swimming in.

Hazy.

***

"Why'd they call you Hazy?

"Maybe you should ask my former CO."

"We did. He gave a glowing recommendation. Said you never failed to give it your all to save a man."

Your all.

Tell that to the boys you left behind to rot. To the blood drying on the grout in your kitchen. You're sure they would have something else to say.

Her name's Laswell - CIA. The CIA never did you any favors before, but you ask for one now.

"Can I take a shower?"

She lets you. They're holding you in a hotel, no doubt blacked out on any internet searches, and really just a cover for the government to hide people whenever they want. But the water runs warm and red as you sit on the floor to wash your hair. You're escorted there by Gaz - the man who handed you a towel for Ghost. The only one who doesn't eye you in distrust.

You know he's stationed outside the door in case you do anything stupid. They don't trust you - in their eyes, you're an enemy who lured Ghost into your house to torture him for information.

A Judas Iscariot ready to be flung into the maw of Satan.

You wonder what hospital they took Ghost to.

***

Johnny's voice - a thousand Hail Marys.

Ave maria, gratia plena, Dominus tecum.

The words sound ridiculous in Johnny's accent. Simon tries to make a note to tell him so.

Simon's angel doesn't leave his dreams. She holds his hand, skin so soft against his calloused ones he feels like he'll break her if he holds too hard. She brushes his hair away from his forehead, fingers lingering on the scars left behind. Simon tries to speak to her, but she doesn't speak back - just rests her hands at the base of his neck. A tenderness he hasn't felt in years.

"Why are you here?"

He begs for an answer that doesn't come.

Wake up.

He's dragged away from her.

***

His buddy, Soap, apologizes at the hospital.

"I didnae know you were a soldier."

Not a soldier. But you don't correct him.

He takes you to see Ghost. Locked ward, two guards outside the door. A quick pat down across the clothes that aren't yours - a pair of shoes that are slightly too big.

His skull mask has been switched out for a plain surgical mask. It makes him look smaller, somehow.

"He hasn't woken up for the past three days," Soap says, trying to hide the rosaries in his pocket.

"His body is trying to heal - his brain is slowing down metabolic function to prioritize healing." The words roll so smoothly from your tongue - the same words you used to tell families when their babies and husbands and daughters wouldn't wake up.

They were lies 90% of the time.

Maybe this is the 10%.

His hair is still crusted with blood. You have the nurse bring you rags and a basin. Under Soap's watchful eyes, you wash Ghost's hair, his hands, his feet free of the blood crusted there.

They let you go home to scrub the blood off of the floors and table, staining your knees and fingers red. You pretend not to notice Ghost's captain following you at a distance - pretend not to notice him standing across the street when you empty the mop water beside your steps. You do your best to puzzle-piece your door back together until you can get a new one.

Your phone lights up: a text from your old captain - asking why the CIA was blowing his phone up. You leave him on read.

When you sleep that night, you dream of the way Ghost grabbed your wrist.

***

His angel brings him back from the nightmares. Above them the heavens yawn - a thousand constellations. They lay on the backs in the wet grass and Ghost describes each one of them to her - how to use them to get home when you're in trouble.

He doesn't let go of her hand.

"Are you here to save me?" He asks, but she doesn't answer. "Do I deserve it?"

Fingers intertwined. A gentle squeeze. She glows brighter when he says her name.

"Please speak."

She traces the scars on his face and leaves him in silence.

***

Ghost's hands are rough beneath yours. Your mother taught you a prayer to use when you were little, but you can't get the words out of your mouth.

"Why's he so important to you?" Soap asks from across the room, refusing to make eye contact with you.

"I spent a long time stitching men back together; I want to see one make it through."

Soap fingers the beads on his rosary.

Pater Noster, qui es in caelis, sanctificetur nomen tuum.

You trace the scars on Ghost's fingers - a prayer in flesh. You only speak to God when have something to ask.

He rarely answers.

***

His angel waits for him - he sees her in the distance, golden-arrayed. She smiles at him - halo glowing brighter. She looks so happy to see him- there's a knife in his side.

Wake up, Ghost.

She diminishes on the horizon. A phantom in the sunset.

Come back.

Please Ghost.

A step away from him. A cracked link.

Come back.

"Co-"

***

The hospital room explodes into bedlam. A doctor slams into you, pushing you out of the way. You let yourself fall into the wall; across the room, Soap stands bewildered, fingers running through his mohawk - hair standing on end.

Ghost fights them, reaching across to yank the IVs out of his arm. You watch the blood pour from his hands - stigmata in reverse. Across the room, Soap tries to take a step towards the chaos - you stop him with a small shake of your head.

Sancte Michael Archangele, defende nos in proelio.

***

He's lost - fighting against the hands that attempt to hold him down. It's hell around him, fingers wrapped around his arms and legs trying to force him down. He wraps his hands around the IV in his arm - barely aware that they're there to help him. His veins burn.

He's forced to the bed - the voices above him a dissonance that means nothing to him. His heart is slamming into his chest, fingers digging into the mattress when he sees her.

Hazy.

His angel in the corner of the room.

Simon is pinned to the bed with the weight of her eyes.

He must still be dead.

In his moment of weakness, he's is slammed back into the bed.

***

You watch as the nurses pin Ghost down to the bed, the doctor trying to break through to him. Soap pushes through them and grabs Ghost by the shoulder; Ghost jerks, and then looks at Soap. His eyes soften just slightly and his whole body relaxes beneath Soap's hand.

You duck out of the room - heart slamming against the inside of your chest.

You can't breath; fuck, he's alright.

Fuck.

You press the heels of your palms into your eyes, trying to stem the pictures flashing through your mind: screaming and sand; Ghost's blood dripping from your fingertips; covering bodies with your own to block them from shrapnel; the sound of Black Hawks overhead; Ghost looking up at you, bleeding out on your kitchen table.

Fuck.

***

Johnny is talking faster than Simon can understand. The pain in his side nearly pulls him back under - he doesn't struggle when they put the IV back in.

He cuts off Johnny mid sentence.

"Hazy -"

Johnny looks at him confused, eyes flashing to the door.

"She's outside; L.T. what happened the other night?

Simon tries to push himself up - he needs to track her down. To feel that she's real; to hear her speak again. The sight of her standing over him, golden halo'd won't leave his mind. His hands ache for the feeling of hers.

"Johnny move."

"L.T. - you're fucking delusional. What happened to you?"

Simon grips the blanket with white knuckles, and thinks about the way Hazy traced the scars. He was dead.

He was dead.

***

You hear Soap and Ghost speaking in the room; you're gripping your shirt and pressing it into your face - trying to pull yourself back to the present.

You saved him.

You're shaking when Soap approaches you, sliding down to the floor beside you.

"He says," his voice cracks, "he says that you're his angel. Keeps asking if you're real."

An angel.

Fuck.

You laugh, small and derisive.

"I think I might be the opposite of an angel."

Your voice is muffled by your shirt. You feel so fucking stupid for breaking down from the sight of Ghost - nobody but a stranger.

"I think you need to go see him."

***

Johnny leads her in, hand on her elbow. A flash of anger.

Take your fucking hands off of her.

Like he can read his mind, Johnny drops her elbow and turns around - letting the door to the room shut behind him. She stands at the doorway, hands held behind her back. She doesn't look at him - doesn't speak.

His stomach flips - his angel won't look at him.

"Are you real?"

The corner of her mouth lifts.

"Are you?"

He wants to beg her to come closer, to touch him, to trace the scars on his face. He wants to rip his mask off so that she can see him. But he keeps his hands pressed to the mattress.

"Why did you save me?"

She smooths an invisible wrinkle in her jeans.

"Just my instinct I guess."

"I thought you were an angel."

She crosses the room - slowly at first, but faster until she sits down in the chair Johnny had been in. She keeps her hands folded in her lap and her gaze pointed down.

"I probably made a shitty angel didn't I?"

"Hazy."

She looks up at the sound of her name. Ghost leans back; eyes screwed up against the fluorescent light.

"That's not your real name is it?" Ghost asks. Tell me your real one. Please.

"Is Ghost yours?"

"Not even close."

***

You leave him in the hospital - a quick good-bye and a promise that you'll come back to see him.

You don't go back.

You dream about Ghost every night; waking up gripping the sheets with the taste of blood in your mouth. The second coming of grief when you find his blood on the underside of your kitchen table.

***

Simon thinks he's stupid - she didn't come see him for a reason. She doesn't want to see him. It's been a year - she's probably forgotten him by now.

Fuck.

His feet carry him up the steps and he knocks before he can stop himself.

Simon Riley doesn't believe in angels.

But his opens the door.

***

tag list: @random-thot-generator, @stillinracooncity,

#my fics #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #ghost cod x reader #ghost cod #ghost cod x you #simon riley x you #simon riley #call of duty fanfic #call of duty mwii #ghost call of duty

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darknesseddiem · 1 year

Text

I was watching "What Men Want" and I started to think about the same happening with Eddie and Reader, but instead of reader hearing the man's thoughts, it is Eddie who's hearing what Reader thinks and I'm going feral for this. 🥵

Word Count: 2.431K

It's just a short blurb that I write in my phone yesterday, but if you guys liked I could turn this into a fic series.

Warnings: Goofy Eddie, mention of blood, allusion to sex, Simp!Eddie, Modern!Eddie, Eddie being Eddie.

It was a sunny Sunday and everyone was at Steve's house. Nancy, Robin and you were sunbathing on the lounger around the pool while El and Max were in the pool having a heated argument over who was better looking: John Stamos or Ralph Macchio.

The rest of the boys were playing chicken fight and causing a mess around the pool and near the back door.

You heard some cheers before Dustin started screaming.

"Mike and Lucas against... Steve and Eddie!"

You looked up in time to see Eddie and Steve raising their arms to the sides and walking around the pool like they were fighters in a ring.

You giggled as Eddie started blowing kisses in the air like he had a crowd of adoring fans.

"I wonder why we are friends with these idiots." Robin said with an annoyed face, her sunglasses resting on top of her beautiful blonde hair.

"Because Steve has a pool and a big house and rooms with bathtubs and…" She cut you off before you could finish your sentence.

"Yes, yes, I understand, we're friends with Steve 'cause of the pool and the house." The girl started pointing with her fingers. "And with Eddie for the free weed, because there's no way I was going to be friends with these two weirdos for free." She finishes with a nod and goes back to her sunbathing.

You smiled at her honesty and went back to sunbathing.

You checked on Nancy, she was asleep and you make sure that she was covered by the pool umbrella.

You were almost asleep when you were pulled by El and Max's scream.

You and Robin jumped in fright and looked for Nancy, who was probably inside taking a nap.

You looked at the pool and the boys were in a circle looking at something...or someone.

"Is he breathing?"

"Oh my God, we killed him!"

"Everyone stay away! Don't touch him!"

"It's your fault!

"My fault?"

Suddenly all sound was muffled and you could hear your heart pounding in your ears.

You approached and glimpsed somewhere floating face up in the water. It was Eddie.

Robin gasped and clapped her hands to her mouth.

"O-oh my God, I... I'm going to call an ambulance!"

She ran into the house to call an ambulance for the brunette in the water.

You approach slowly and with a better view you could see that the water around his head was painted a light red.

"What... what happened?" You asked with tears in your eyes, he was pale and you weren't sure if he was breathing.

"We were playing chickenfight and I accidentally splashed some water in his eyes," Lucas began with concern creeping into his voice. "I thought it was a great chance to win the fight and I pushed him back, I didn't know Steve was close to the pool wall and... What if... What if he's really hurt?" Tears started streaming down the boy's face.

"Hey, shhh... It's okay, Eddie is a tough guy, he'll be fine." You pulled him for a hug and soothed the boy. But even you didn't believe that Eddie would be okay.

Suddenly Robin came running to the pool and announced that the ambulance was almost there. You sighed in relief and your eyes turned to your best friend who lay pale and almost lifeless on the surface of the water.

The ambulance came and took Eddie straight from the emergency room and said he was off limits to visitors until he was out of danger.

And that's how you found yourself three hours later pacing the around hospital lobby, with all your friends waiting for any news about Eddie's condition.

The doctor called his name and you stopped walking and walked quickly in front of him.

"He's our friend. Any news?" You asked before everyone closed the hall with anxiety and concern for their friend.

"He's out of danger now, he has a concussion on his occipital bone, but it's nothing too serious. He's awake and clear for visitors, we'll run some more tests and then you can take him home." The doctor said writing on a sheet of paper.

You let out a sigh of relief when the doctor said that Eddie is safe and well, everyone in the hall sighed in the knowledge that their metalhead friend is not dead.

"Oh God, thank you Jesus."

"Man, I thought I was going to pass out worrying about that asshole."

"What is an occipital bone?"

"Do you think he's going to try to kill you after you nearly killed him?"

"Dude, I think you should run and hide because Eddie is going to be pissed at you."

"So... who goes first?" Steve asked standing with both hands on his hips like a mother.

"Lucas." All the boys said in unison and looked at their friend who looked like he was having a panic attack.

"WHAT? ME? ARE YOU TRYING TO KILL ME?" He screamed forgetting he was in a hospital.

"I mean, you need to apologize for almost letting him know Jesus…" Dustin said looking everywhere but at Lucas.

Steve scoffed and looked at Dustin like he'd grown two heads. "Jesus? Do you really think Munson is meeting Jesus when he dies? You're delusional, Dustin Henderson." He said gesturing with his hands.

"EVERYBODY SHUT THE FUCK UP!" Max's voice shutting out everyone in the hall, including the people who work there.

"I think Steve had to go first" The redhead said and looked at the other brunette.

"WHAT? WHY ME?" He yelled in exasperation. "I don't even know if he's going to try to kill every single thing that moves towards him after all this, and you want me to go first? Hell no, I won't!" Steve crossed his arms like a petulant child.

"That's why you're going, Dingus, because you're going to be our shield against his rage." Robin interrupted and said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Steve gasped and placed his hand over his heart.

"My own friends, sacrificing ME! To the devil incarnate." He pretended to cry and everyone rolled their eyes in annoyance.

"Shut up!"

"Oh, but you are so going, Steve."

"You better go or I'll shove my feet up your ass."

"Come on, it's just Eddie, he's harmless." Okay, that was a lie, but whatever.

After a few minutes of heated discussion, Steve went (by sheer spontaneous pressure) to Eddie's room first.

Eddie didn't like those damn lights. Those white things just above his face were disturbing his peaceful sleep where he dreamed of you and your beautiful smile, just for him.

You two were in the park holding hands as you walked slowly as the sun started to hide behind the pink clouds, you were wearing a short white dress that goes up to mid-calf with small blue flowers and leaves, two slits on the side of your legs resting just above the knee and the sleeves resting beautifully on your shoulders.

"You know…" he started to say. "I always thought someone like me wouldn't be friends with a girl like you..." The boy said kicking the invisible rocks in front of him.

"Why not? I mean, you're everything a girl could dream of." You said and lifted his chin so he could look at you.

"Y-do you really think about it? I just…I don't know, you're too perfect for me, Sweetheart." He gives you a shy smile and starts walking towards you.

"Eddie..." You frowned and looked at him with those beautiful huge eyes.

Why are your eyes almost popping out of your skull? Wait, why are they getting bigger?

Eddie makes this weird face and you start smiling at him and he realizes you're turning into Snapchat's big-eyed bee filter, but without the colors and with lots of eyes.

He loses his shit when you start talking again. It wasn't your voice or even his language, it was Barbie's Bibble voice (he knows because he's watched every damn movie that had that weird blue bee thing in it).

"Elinapuff abarara batapa pelipuff ah lalalalala."

What. The. Actual. Fuck.

He started to distance himself from you so he could get away from this nightmare.

But suddenly the scenery changed and who in his place was the last person he expected to see.

Steve Harington.

Wearing your dress.

And holding his hand.

His. Fucking. Hand.

"Dude, you scared us all, everyone out there is worried about you."

With me? I'm not the one wearing my girl's dress.

"You know…" Steve grabbed the dress and started rocking back and forth like a schoolgirl. "I was afraid to go in and you'd be mad about what happened today."

I'm going to start screaming like a girl and I'm not kidding.

Steve walked over and touched his long hair as he balanced.

"Wow, now that I'm looking at you closer, your head now looks like Timmy from South Park. Damn." He felt Steve touching his head and that's what made him open his eyes at the exact moment.

Eddie's eyes widened as he sat up incredibly quickly on the hospital bed, his head felt like it weighed a ton and was throbbing like hell.

He looked over at Steve, who was scrunched up with worry and fear as he glared at the metalhead.

"Where is your dress?" Eddie asked looking him up and down with a raised eyebrow.

"Wh-what dress?" The tanned man asked confused. Maybe it was the concussion.

"The dress, the white dress with the blue flowers and…" The brunette closed his mouth the moment he realized he was in a room too strange to be his.

"Um, excuse me… But where the hell am I?" He looked around the room skeptically.

"Well that's a very long and funny story." Steve said with an awkward laugh.

He starts to tell Eddie everything that happened, the chicken fight in the pool, Lucas pushing him and about his concussion. Eddie sat there and listened and realized that the concussion was the thing causing the pain in his head.

"So, you're telling me it's all Sinclair's fault? Oh, I'm going to drown that little shit in the pool and…" Her rambling about her revenge was interrupted by a doctor entering the room.

"I see you're awake, we've just finished your tests and you can go home now." The old man said and went back to work.

Eventually everyone went to the living room to see their friend. Everything was normal, until you entered the room.

"Hey, Eds…" Your sweet voice reached his ears and he grinned at you.

"Hey Honey, did you miss me?" You laughed and shook your head.

"You wish, Munson." You said and gave him a crooked smile.

'I thought I was going to pass out from worrying about you, idiot'

"Oh yeah? I knew you loved me, no need to lie." His face was decorated with a shitty grin.

You frowned a little.

'What is he talking about?'

"I, Eddie Munson, am talking about you nearly passing out because you're worried about me." He replied smiling like it was obvious.

"Oh…"

'But I didn't say anything…'

If he wasn't so focused on your pretty face, he wouldn't have noticed that your mouth didn't move when you were talking to him.

Oh God.

Eddie could be dumb for a lot of things: school, not knowing the difference between an alligator and an crocodille, thinking you can hear someone's phone call if you move close to the other ear because he saw in a cartoon that ears were connected and the brain was hollow, and a bunch of other stuff.

But this, oh this was different. He's spent most of his life reading nerdy books about fantastical creatures and telepaths.

Holy shit, he could read your fucking mind! Man, this is going to be sooo much fun.

"Why are you smiling like a psycho?" You asked snapping him out of his thoughts.

"Nothing, Sweetheart, nothing…" His sick, perverted brain was already coming to life again.

The next time Eddie could read your mind was when the two of you were in his trailer relaxing and watching some movies on Netflix.

'This guy looks like a sneaker, the shoe, not the chocolate.'

'I would like to have a chocolate now.'

'These tacos look so good, my tummy is almost talking.'

He looked at you slowly and scowled, was food the only thing on your mind?

The next interesting thing came hours later, the two of you were in his bed and he was licking a joint to smoke with you, when he suddenly stopped breathing.

'I'd like him to lick me like that too, I've never wanted to be a joint so much in my life…'

His eyes widened and a tinge of pink began to cover his cheeks and ears. Do you want him to lick you? The poor boy was already dreaming about you, in a not-so-friendly way.

The third time came like a tsunami washing over him, he wasn't prepared for what he would hear from his mind.

The whole gang was celebrating Mike's birthday and even the hellfire clube were there.

The boys were sitting around the living room table shouting and discussing something about Dungeons & Dragons when Eddie felt you sit next to him, he was used to hearing your thoughts so it was like a muffled sound for him.

"Something smells good in here."

He could feel you pressing into his side, but he paid no attention to it.

'Oh it's you! What is that? Hmmm, vanilla…Cigarettes and…Man smell? I don't know, but I like it.'

He was ready to take a sip of his Jack & Coke, the cold glass pressing against his warm, soft lips when the tsunami came crashing down on him.

'You smell so good I could eat you… Or let you eat me, or both.'

He choked on his drink and started coughing like crazy.

His already half hard cock bouncing hearing the things you were thinking of doing to him, was it too much for him, his hot best friend wanting to fuck him? Yep, he was pretty sure he'd come in his pants.

"Eds!" You started stroking his back in a gentle way and Eddie's eyes darkened as he looked at you.

It's official, Eddie Munson is totally fucked and it was head over heels for his hot best friend.

I don't know if you all know the Barbie scene I used so I'm gonna put the link to a tiktok that inpired me to put this on this blurb

Bibble talking

...

....

.....

Sacrifice for 'read more' 🙏🏻

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #dark!eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie smut #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddiemunson #eddie munson x f!reader #modern!eddie x reader #modern!eddie munson #darknesseddiemfics

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dreamingofep · 4 months

Text

Sinned Awakening pt. 22 🩸

An AU Elvis fic

(Vampire!Elvis/Vampire Austin! Elvis × reader)

Character/Fandom: Elvis - Elvis (2022)

Prompt: Getting promoted to be Elvis full time housekeeper, you realize the man holds secrets beyond beliet and your undeniable attraction makes you tear the unknown. [Fem!Reader]

TW: Cussing, teasing, mentions of blood/gore!!!

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 3.6k

A/N: Hello everyone happy Sunday! I’m having a lot of fun writing about not one, but two vampires now🤭 Reader is a really challenging vampire so Elvis has his hands full with you🤭 Hope you like this little part. More to come shortly! Please comment, message, and reblog if you feel so inclined

A reminder, this is Vampire!Elvis so there is going to be mentions of blood/gore from here on out. If that's not your thing, sorry but it's needed for the story.

If you'd like to start from the beginning, start here or Ao3 I hope you enjoy and message and comment what you think.

One.

We’re one.

That word left you breathless and never thought it would be completely true. He made you his and you did the same. You feel like you’re on a cloud, floating aimlessly around him and this new world you had to discover. You continue to study every detail of him, some that you’ve never realized he had before. Like the way his sideburns curl at the ends by his ears. Or how his eyebrows had this fluffiness to them and perfectly framed his eyes. And the way his neck has this perfectly carved musculature to it that makes you want to lick all the way up to the part of his neck you bit before.

The feeling of his touch zaps you back to reality and you look back into his eyes. You’re still taken aback by the beautiful golden sparkling eyes that look back into yours.

“How do you feel baby?” He coos.

You had to pause and think about it. You weren’t accustomed to any of this and weren’t exactly sure what you should be feeling.

“I think I’m okay, everything feels a little different but I feel perfectly fine so far,” you smile.

“I know honey, you’ll need some getting used to it all but it’s okay. I’ll help you through it all,” he assures.

Your thumb rubs against his smooth, flawless face. “How long was I….sleeping? I don’t know exactly what the right word is,” You ask.

“Eight days. I-I-I don’t know why…I’ve never been so scared. I thought I did something wrong.” His voice trembles, pulling you tighter in his arms.

You could feel this impending dread and anxiety in the pit of your stomach and consumed every ounce of your energy. But it wasn’t coming from you, you weren’t feeling like that at all. It was like being fed to you and amplified by a loudspeaker.

You take a step back and look at him bewildered.

“What the hell was that?” You ask in shock.

“What was what?” He looks at you concerned.

“That feeling of impending doom, but I wasn’t the one creating that feeling. It was almost like it was being shown to me or something,” you stutter.

He puts his hands on your arms to calm you and he gives a small smirk at you.

“I think that’s just our bond. Our senses are heightened and attuned to one another more than ever now that we’re bonded. Remember how I told you I could feel your pain when Raphael took you? In some way, that was a small preview of what would happen to us after we were one. I didn’t know it would feel that intense to you I’m sorry about that,” he says sheepishly.

“No it’s okay, you don’t need to be sorry. It was just unexpected to feel an emotion that isn’t my own, you know?” You try to articulate.

“I get it, honey. I honestly am still trying to find more answers about what our new abilities hold,” he explains.

This was a world that even Elvis wasn’t accustomed to and that was a bit frightening. There was so much to discover.

“So you have no idea why I didn’t change right away?” You ask, rubbing circles with your thumb on his forearm, his skin feeling obsessional. The way it’s so soft and melted into yours without trying. You wanted to feel so much more of it. Starting with his back under this silk shirt he had on or feel those soft little hairs on his chest you loved so much.

Jesus focus.

“No, I haven’t yet. None of the legends go into the details of what Chosen mates go through because they are so rare. God, I was so scared, I had no idea what had gone wrong or if this was completely normal.”

“I’m so sorry you had to deal with that alone honey. I can’t believe I changed like this.”

“I know, you changed very slowly. First, with your heart slowing to an immortal pace. It was strange, it didn’t have that normal symphonic sound that I was used to hearing so much. Then your scars on your body healed and started to be covered by this beautiful glowing skin,” he says dreamily, dragging his finger ever so slowly down your neck and along the top of your breast. Your body can’t help but arch into that touch that leaves your skin aflame. He takes a deep breath and recomposes himself.

“Then you were very still, with no signs that you’d be waking up from this hibernation any time soon. I was like a caged animal, pacing the room all day and night worried sick I somehow did something terribly wrong to you. I called some friends, vampires, if they had heard about anything like this happening when the change was occurring and every answer I got was the same. They’d never heard anything like this and didn’t know a bonded mate existed anymore. ”

“On the fourth day, I looked at myself in the mirror, ready to be faced by the monster who ruined his Chosen mate and isn’t waking up for whatever reason. For the last fourteen years, I have been used to staring at the red, glowing, soulless eyes that I have been cursed with for quite some time now. I was shocked by every fiber of my being when I saw these glowing youthful eyes stare back at me instead. I was in shock and didn’t know what was happening to me.”

“Sometimes, I tried to wake you, calling your name and have you open your eyes for me, but to my disappointment, you never did. But I could hear your heart flutter at the sound of my voice so I’d talk to you, coaxing you through this all hoping you’d wake up faster. It gave me hope that you were still in there and just needed the time to change. I’d caress your face, feeling how perfect your face felt in my hand.”

As he’s explaining this all, you feel the worry come off of him and it hits you like a tornado. You try to brace yourself for such emotions coming your way but it's almost impossible.

“And the strangest thing happened a few days after that…” he mumbles.

“What do you mean?” You prod.

You chuckle a bit before starting to speak again, “Well, I was changing, physically. I don’t know why but, I was changing into my twenty-four-year-old self without me even thinking about it. It just came so naturally to me because well, that is what I look like under all this in reality. But I’ve always controlled how I look, it doesn’t just get out of hand and I hardly need to think about staying that physical appearance.”

“So I was walking around here worried sick about you, trying to alter my appearance again so you wouldn’t be so startled when you woke up and not be able to recognize me from the last time you saw me,” he chuckles.

“Oh honey, that’s so strange… I really wonder why that is. But I wouldn’t have minded waking up to you like that. Nevertheless handsome, I could never forget this perfect face,” you quip.

He slyly smirks, “thanks little darlin’,” he says low, his eyes staring at your pink lips. He makes a small grumble in his chest as wraps his arms around you once more. “We’ll get some answers soon, let me just hold you.”

His warmth engulfs you and this sense of comfort and longing fills the pit of your stomach. You sigh into him, savoring every last feeling he’s giving you.

“You’re so warm,” you sigh into his chest. He hums delighted, squeezing you tighter before looking down at you.

“We’re the same body temperature now,” he murmurs.

“Oh… I didn’t even think of that,” you say embarrassed. “How do I feel? Any different than the last?” You ask cheekily.

“Hmm… I haven’t gotten to touch ya, let me see,” he coos.

He carefully unties the robe and slips his hands along the curve of your back. You let out a stifled breath and look up at him longingly. His hands travel down further til he fills his hands with your ass and squeezes it firmly. You claw at his biceps and you can’t help but want more from his talented hands. You feel all this desire come flowing out of him and barreling toward you. You feel like it's suffocating you and yet you can’t get enough of it. His hands move back up your back and squeeze at your hips, pulling you closer to him.

“You feel more perfect than ever,” he says as he stares at your breasts. He drags one of his hands up your torso til he can cup your breast and roll your nipple in between his fingers. A spark of electricity runs through you and you moan. You press your face into the crook of his neck and groan in agony. That delicious-smelling scent fills your head once again and makes you feel intoxicated. You groan heavily as you look at him, “what’s that smell?” You ask.

He places his hand back on your hip and throws you a confused look.

“Your senses are overwhelmed right now honey, it could be a number of things. What does it smell like to you baby?” He asks.

“It’s warm and sweet, almost like honey. But savory and delectable, like I can just take a bite out of it and be pleased beyond my wildest dreams,” you try to explain. He tries to hide his pompous smirk but you catch it anyway.

“What? What is that look for?” You press.

“Umm well darlin’, I think that’s me you’re smelling. That’s how you smell to me at least, all sweet and decadent. Like I could feed from that heavenly nectar and feel alive again,” he says low and sultry.

God yes, he makes you feel just like that without even trying. He runs a finger down your neck again and you see how much he wants you.

It’s not only him you’re attracted to, it’s the scent of his blood drawing you to him, this invisible bond attached to the lust for blood coursing through your veins. It all makes you feel for Elvis when you two first met. How he explained to you he thought you were beautiful and the scent of you only put him over the edge of wanting you. That’s how you felt at this moment. You already loved this man so much but now, what you would give for a taste of him. In a flash, this immense wave of hunger consumed you and you looked up at him frightened, unsure of what to do. Your throat started to burn and your mouth watered by just the mere idea of blood.

Especially Elvis’.

Your memory was very murky when you tried to remember how he tasted when you bit him to complete the change. You remember it not tasting very good at first, then it turned into something delicious.

“Oh baby, it’s okay, calm down. Let's get you something to drink alright?” He assures you, closing your robe up again, and ties it shut. He takes your hand to lead you downstairs to the kitchen but you stop him in his tracks by pulling slightly on his arm. You were a little shocked so little force actually stopped him. It was going to take some time to realize you’re just as strong as Elvis now. He looks at you a little surprised too and tries to lure you further out of the room by taking a few steps away.

“I want yours, right now,” you command, barely recognizing your voice right now with how demanding you sound. He lets out an intrigued grumble and feel him like that idea very much.

“Not right now honey, you have zero control and I’m almost sure you’d try to suck me dry,” he quips smartly. “For the first time, I’m the one with the great control, and not you. We have blood in the kitchen, come on honey,” he coaxes.

Your blood boiled not getting your way. It was very irrational, yes, but this new lust for blood made you feel very differently than you ever have. Your throat continued to burn and you huffed at Elvis and reluctantly followed him down to the kitchen. There was no one here and you could hear the waves crash on the shore from below. The wind whirled through the palm tree leaves and you could hear people playing on the shore of the beach.

He lets go of your hand and goes to the refrigerator. The middle shelf was stacked with blood bags and Elvis grabbed one off the top. Something about the notion of drinking blood this way for the first time made you feel queasy. Maybe the human part of you was still inside of you holding on for dear life.

You look up at Elvis with the bag in his hand and going to grab a glass out of the cabinet.

“Okay, baby we can do this one of two ways. Either I can pour this in a glass for you or, you can learn how to use your fangs. Which one do you prefer?” He taunts.

Your fangs.

Oh my God, how could you have forgotten you have fangs now? You couldn’t even begin to comprehend how to use them or even get them to descend.

“Teach me how to use my fangs,” you say promptly.

“Hmm, good girl,” he praises, “okay come here,” he says leading you to the table. He takes a seat on one of the chairs and has you stand in front of him.

“You need to focus on your fangs and your fangs alone. Everyone is a little different but visualize them, picture your teeth becoming sharp and strong. Let that hunger you have drive them out,” he explains.

You swallow and feel the thirst in your throat grow greater. You huff slightly in frustration and try to focus like he’s saying. You’ve never actually seen your fangs so it’s hard for you to visualize what they might look like. But you can only assume they look like Elvis’, long and sharp.

You look at the blood bag in his hand and try to imagine how it’ll taste when you finally taste that blood. Your mouth waters just thinking about it and you think that’s a good sign your body is responding to it in a good way.

“Breathe in through your nose, smell it. That helps a lot,” he says.

You do just that and take a deep breath, trying to get the scent of the blood in your nose and get your newfound senses to work. You lick your lips and take more deep breaths, trying to pick up the scent.

Warm and rich honey swirls in your head and you know what that smell is.

You look up at him with hunger-filled eyes, grab onto his wrist, and try to pull him in but he anticipates the move.

“I just smell you. Baby I want you,” you plead, every breath creating more hunger inside you.

He smirks at you amused and shakes his head at you.

“I know you do, but you don’t get to have mine just yet. You need to learn how to focus and use your senses properly,” he says smugly.

You groan in protest, hating you're not getting your way.

“Please, please let me honey. I’m starving,” you continue to plead. He presses his lips together to stop the laugh about to come out.

“Is this how I sounded to you? So needy and hungry all the time? I’m so sorry darling to put you through that when you were human, that must have been awful to hear all the time,” he winks.

“You fucking little tease,” you grumble, swallowing back the pain in your throat.

“Oh come now honey, I’m just trying to help you. You need to focus or you’ll never get to drink my blood,” he pesters.

You grumble, so annoyed with him and how he’s not letting you do what you want. You try to refocus on the bag and make your entire senses focus on what’s in there. You huff and groan at your thirst and take a deep breath in, closing your eyes to try and get your mind to focus on the bag.

A delicious little whiff hits your nose that smells completely different from Elvis and you pop your eyes back to him.

“I smell it,” you say hurriedly.

“Good, now keep taking deep breaths and let your fangs descend. You can do it, honey,” he coaxes.

You hiss as the burning in your throat worsens and the smell of the blood overwhelms you. You feel no change happening in your mouth and you’re beginning to get extremely frustrated. You were so hungry and this wasn’t easy like you thought.

“Goddamn it this is impossible. I can’t do this. Just cut open the bag,” you growl at him.

Elvis lets out a small chuckle and sees how frustrated you’ve become.

“Okay baby, seems like I need to give you a little more motivation hmm?” He smiles and brings his other wrist to his mouth.

You watch as he nips at his skin and the whiff of his delectable scent consumes you and makes your eyes roll back. You watch as his blood slides down his arm in a small pebble.

“Fucking hell are you kidding me?! You fucking tease! Please honey, please let me,” you beg, about to grab his wrist but he’s much quicker than you and pulls it away from you in time. You hate his crass behavior and growl, baring your teeth at him in anger. His mouth forms into a pleased smile watching you.

“There’s my girl,” he whispers. Your brows furrow and don’t understand what he’s saying and are about to snap at him but your tongue grazes along your teeth. There you feel your razor-sharp fangs bared and ready to bite. You can’t help but be a little surprised by the feeling of them and look back at Elvis, then back to his arm.

“Focus,” he snaps. “Focus on the bag,” he adds.

You groan and shoot your eyes back at the bag in his hand and try your best to avoid looking at his blood rolling down his arm.

You grab his hand with the bag in it and bring it closer to your face and can pinpoint the smell again.

“Gently, take a bite on the bag. Not too harsh or you’ll make the bag burst open. I don’t want you to spill a drop,” he teases.

You glare at him before looking back down and gently biting the bag. Your fangs are so sharp it didn’t take much pressure to make holes in it and the crimson fluid hit your tongue. You swallow it quickly and feel that burning in your throat reside slowly. It tasted good, not at all the same delectable smell Elvis had, but it would do. You start to squeeze the bag to let the blood flow quicker in your mouth and fill this hunger inside you. You can feel some of it dribble out of your mouth and onto your chin.

Shit. He’s not going to like that.

But you were too hungry to care about the mess you’d make. You suck the last few drops out of the bag and do feel much better. Your throat wasn’t on fire anymore and you didn’t have this unquenchable thirst. But lord, Elvis’ blood still called out to you menacingly.

You carefully take your teeth off the bag and look up at Elvis to see if he’d give you some of his.

“How do you feel baby?” He asks quietly.

“Better,” you say breathlessly, still eyeing his wrist. He looks down at his wrist too and looks back up at you with a glint of mischief in his eye.

“Oh, you think you can have some of this now? Well, you didn’t exactly listen to my instructions,” he quips, motioning to your mouth and your chest.

You look down and see you spilled more than you thought you did. You see a stream of it running down your chest and in between your breasts.

You let out a frustrated sigh, “you’re no fun to make deals with!” You snap.

“Too bad. You’ll learn to not make a mess eventually,” he teases, “as far as this mess, I’ll clean this up,” he says slowly.

He pulls you in by your hips and makes you stand in between his legs. You hiss at his forceful touch, on absolute edge right now with his bleeding arm. He opens your robe slightly and looks up at you with a big grin on his face. In one long swipe, he licks the dribbling blood from your breasts to your chin. His tongue ignites something dangerous inside you and you groan in agony as every part of you feels hyper-sensitive. Your heart pounded away as he did this and made it all feel more erotic than he might have intended. You thought you liked his tongue before but nothing compares to how it feels now. You want so much more of him and it makes you feel insatiable.

He reaches your mouth and puts the most delicate kiss on your lips. You want to collapse in his arms as he grabs onto your hips tighter. You softly tug at his hair, moaning into his mouth, “more,” you whimper.

He pulls away, “Still such a bad, bad girl. I don’t know how I’m going to handle all this newfound neediness,” he taunts.

“Oh I’m sure you have a fucking list of things of how you’ll manage it,” you say annoyed, rolling your eyes at him.

He chuckles softly, “Mhmm, you know me so well.”

•

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