#and this drawing was towards the top of the results

[inherdaze]

dark red — megumi fushiguro

megumi x f!reader

18+ content, apocalypse au, slow burn, strangers to lovers

12k

summary: megumi finds himself growing closer to you as you both fight to survive in an infected world.

October 30th. 

You eye your floppy, double-paged calendar lovingly as you uncap a marker, drawing a big ‘X’ across the date. 

Your eyes scan over the top page of it. It has some corny close-up stock photo of a bird with the month October printed in big, cursive lettering. It’s the type of calendar that your grandmother would keep in her office, very neutral with nature images. And for some reason, it’s like your comfort object. It made you happy, reminded you of simpler things and simpler times. It reminded you of life before- before the infectious bite.

The bite is deadly. 

Or, beyond deadly, since it doesn’t quite kill you. 

Your brain only rots away and hunger pools at the pit of your stomach, the only thing to sedate it being human flesh. Ah, yes, the infamous zombie bite. 

You and countless others had seen it plenty of times- in movies, in shows, in video games. Even funny little quizzes would pop up on your timeline, Who Would You Be In A Zombie Apocalypse?

Never would you have dreamed of it all coming true. 

When you think about it, it happened so simply, so quickly, that the sequence of events could be plastered onto an elementary foldable. You think that’s what’s probably going to happen, in the future, when humanity re-establishes itself. When.

Not an if, but a when. 

You were one of the few that strongly believed that humans could overcome such devastation and rebuild. Perhaps you could help in creating a better world. 

It happened as such: A disease was created. Created. This fact alone angered the population enough to start riots, protests, petitions. It was the beginning of the end. A disease that was supposedly heavily concealed and secured was created by the government, until all the scientists working on restricting the disease escaped the laboratory, no longer themselves. They’d changed, transformed, and it had only spread like a wildfire from there.

With people constantly out on the streets to protest and express their disbelief and opposition to diseases being formulated in the first place, it was not that difficult for it to spread. And spread it did. 

Humankind really took a hit. There was no organization, no plan, no stability to overcome the outbreak. The government was too busy trying to better their image and hide their mistakes that no one even considered a plan of action to tackle the sickness and the spread. It was literal hell. Infrastructure was being torn down, people were turning against each other, either locking themselves away from everyone else or going out into the world to try to play hero. 

You had a sliver of luck on your side. 

Now, you didn’t make it without pain and hardships, no, the world would simply be going too easy on you. But when you and your college friends decided to scram, to flee in prevention of being cornered, it played out rather nicely. Others had traveled back home, or hid themselves in their dorms, too scared to go out and face the world. Their poor choices usually resulted in them being practically overtaken with zombies, with nowhere else to run. 

You decided to keep it simple. To keep moving. 

Your plan was to move upwards, towards the North. When the disease had initially broken out and there was still debate on whether it was a legitimate issue or not, nobody had really taken it seriously if the government wasn’t taking it seriously. In the early stages, when everyone was wishy-washy and laughing about it on their timelines, an organization in the North was formed and said to have set up a base- just in case. 

It worked out in your favor. Just a little bit. 

You had left with your roommate, Nobara, and her girlfriend Maki. The three of you participated in all the chaos, too- what else could you have done? Law was no longer applicable. The three of you sought out to steal, to take, to do what you needed. You remember it all, the beginning of summer.

You focus back on your calendar. It’s late October now. 

You were also completely alone now. Nobara and Maki had given up their lives when the three of you scrambled around a sporting goods store for weapons and had been targeted by a herd of zombies. Maki was the strongest, so she took it upon herself to fend them off until it became slightly overbearing. Nobara had jumped in to help, the both of them hollering at you to hurry and find a weapon and run. One last look into their eyes was all it took, for they knew the both of them wouldn’t be able to make it out alive. 

You traveled alone, carrying a huge backpack with a bright red wagon trailing behind you at all times. All food, cooking ware, and clothing were stored in the wagon, protected by a tarp and a heap load of bungee cords. The backpack held all the little snacks, medicine, and bottles of hot water. It was never hot by choice. It just never cooled fully after you boiled it to fend away the bacteria. 

In the very back pocket, where a laptop would typically be, was your crumpled calendar. 

Every evening was the same- you had a three-step routine to provide yourself a feeling of stability in the midst of chaos; 1) Hide yourself amongst the trees, 2) Cross off the day in your calendar, 3) Go straight to sleep. It was a routine that had a sense of simplicity and discipline that you so desperately needed. You could not let yourself forget to mark off the days (you’d probably lose your mind from the lack of track of time) and you absolutely could not let yourself stay awake longer than needed. Sometimes, you would explore an unwelcome corner in your mind. A corner that whispered that maybe you’d be better off just dying, at this rate. No more struggles, no more worries, just sleep. Luckily, the sounds of nature and the idea of a better future always pulled you out of that spiral. 

You tuck your marker into your pocket and bring the floppy thing close to yourself before a feeling of embarrassment comes over you, as if someone is watching you from afar. 

With heated cheeks, you scurry to sloppily stuff it back into the back pocket of your pack before curling up against it, pulling your parka tighter against yourself to go to sleep. 

When you woke up, everything was the same. The world was still falling apart, and you were still alone. 

You hauled yourself up and pat at your cheeks- they stung from the oncoming cold. You knew that winter would be difficult to handle- you figured it would probably be much worse than the summer. You’d just have to face it alone, with limited shelter and supplies. 

You pulled on your backpack, tugged at the handle of your wagon, and went on your way. 

You weren’t alone for long. 

You walked at the edges of the forest, smart enough to not make yourself a target in the middle of the road, but you still needed it to guide you. You were well hidden among the trees, but were close enough to peek out between branches and leaves to make out the pattern of the street. 

A loud snap had jolted you awake from your light daydreaming. You immediately stopped walking and slowly reached down to the wagon, trying to pull the tarp away as quietly as possible. 

Your eyes flitted among the scenery, mind on alert as you reached for the only impactful weapon you had- a bat. 

You managed to successfully grab it, and you held it out defensively, waiting for something to come rushing at you. A few minutes pass and nothing happens. 

Knuckles turning white from your grip on the handle, you stepped forward slowly, trying to find the source of the sound. It was a stupid move, you knew, but you also could not keep moving with the knowledge that there was possibly a zombie in the same woods as you. It would probably eat you alive- the idea and the zombie. 

You try not to trek too far from your wagon, and you promise to yourself that after a couple more steps, you’ll turn back around and you’ll act like this never happened to save yourself from panic later. 

Your little plan is interrupted when your eyes make out a figure not too far from yourself. It’s tall, and unnervingly still, with its back facing you. You can’t decipher whether or not it’s a human. 

You squint and make out the movement of clean, steady hands. You see, in one hand, a little radio, crackling and emitting fuzzy noises. The other hand is occupied by something that you cannot make out. It’s at that moment that you know you’re safe- at least you hope so. 

The sight of another human excites you so much, you cannot help the sudden adrenaline that surrounds your heart and the smile that reaches your face as you cheerily (and semi-softly) call out, “Hey!” 

The person whirls around and suddenly your heart drops, the adrenaline mushing into dread, your smile faltering. He faces you with a gun, held up high, level with his eyes in order to aim properly. 

He gives you a once-over before interrogating you. “What do you want?” 

“Oh,” You sputter, limbs feeling heavy with fear. “N-Nothing,” You try, “Just…. just bumped into you here.” 

“Okay,” He starts hesitantly, dark blue eyes showing you distrust. “Run off, then.” 

Your heart drops even harder, this time. To think that he doesn’t want anything to do with you, that he doesn’t even want to talk, to meet another human. You assume he’s alone, too, since he’s got a backpack that looks much heavier than your own right on his back, straps tight. 

It’s not that you necessarily expect anything from him- it’s just that this is a rare moment. You haven’t spoken to another person in months. 

The crackling of the radio fills in the quiet between the two of you before he pulls you from your thoughts, “We can part ways, now.” 

His voice is only slightly condescending, and he talks as if it’s an obvious fact. 

“Wait,” You lazily blurt, hand reaching out just a little as if he had offered something for you to hold onto. “Don’t you want to be friends?”

He scoffs at you, embarrassing you. “Friends?”

“W-well, not friends,” You struggle, ears and neck heating up, “Just, yunno, partners or- yunno?” 

“No.” 

His blatant answer makes you wince. As much as he makes you feel small, a sliver of desperation shines through your timid form and you try again. “You know what I mean,” You breath out exasperatedly, “There’s nearly no one else left in the world. Might as well work together. We can take turns patrolling and sleeping, and especially when it comes to gathering supplies- like the buddy system, kinda- and things will run smoother. We can put what we have together.” 

He knew you were right. He hated that he knew you were right.

Truthfully, Megumi had no intentions to create bonds and team up with people. He thought it would only slow him down, both physically and mentally- he went out of his way to avoid attachment. 

He responds with silence, so you give it another shot. 

“I’m moving North, too… if that’s… if that’s what you plan to do as well.” 

It catches him, and you knew you had won him over. And he knew, that you knew, that you had convinced him enough. The way that he had faltered and his stern expression melted into one of surprise told you all that you needed to know. 

You gave him a little smile to soften the blow of his loss. 

“Fine,” He says through gritted teeth, letting his arm fall to his side in defeat. He sees you keep your eyes trained on the gun, so he tucks it away in an attempt to ease your nerves. 

You tell him about your supply wagon and let him know he can probably lighten the load on his back by mixing his supplies with yours. While you lead him back down the path where you had abandoned your precious wagon, you try to get him to converse with you. His silent nature made you a little nervous, but you were deeply in need of human connection. 

“Oh! By the way, my name-” 

“No.”

You cough and look up at him, shock written across your features. “Huh?”

“We shouldn’t do that. Exchange names, I mean. It’s just the two of us, we’ll be fine without it.” 

“Huh?” You call out again, this time louder and with more confusion. He shoots you a glare that tells you to shut up. 

“But- why not? What am I supposed to call you?” 

“I already said, it’s just the two of us. Who else could you be addressing? Exchanging names makes us friends. We are, by no means, friends.”

You watch him speak with an unbothered tone, eyes not even meeting yours as he empties half of his supplies into the wagon. Your mouth is slightly agape and you falter to respond, but as he swings his backpack around, a flash of black and white catches your attention. 

“Are those…” You trail off before he finally makes eye contact with you. 

“Are those plushies?”

You see him freeze, and his pale skin blossoms with color. “No.”

“Oh, come on,” You huff out playfully, almost circling him to get a better look at the little fluffy keychains that hang clustered together at the zipper of his backpack. Two tiny but puffy little dogs of opposite colors stare right back at you, felt tongues poking out and all. 

“Huh. Didn’t peg you as a dog boy. Or an anyone boy, for that matter.”

“Are you done? We need to keep moving.”

“Alright, alright,” You huff, reaching for the handle of the wagon. He takes hold of it before you get the chance and starts walking, and you feel your heart smile at his silent offer to pull it for you. You didn’t think there was a deeper meaning to it, you were just happy that you didn't have to haul that heavy thing around for once. “No need to be snappy, Dog Boy.” 

He only groans in response. 

The rest of the day flies by in silence. You try your luck a few times to start a conversation, to pull anything out of him, but he’s so damn stubborn, either keeping his eyes  focused on the path ahead or fiddling with his radio. The radio gives him an excuse to tell you to shut up, since he needs to hear if there are any broadcasts or incoming news- signs of life. 

He finally speaks up when he claims it’s time to sleep. 

The two of you settle against a cluster of tree trunks, and you repeat the same thing you’ve been doing for months on end- laying against your backpack, looking at your calendar with a glint of hope and desperation in your eyes. 

Megumi watches as you pull and flatten it out before rummaging around for your marker. He narrows his eyes and tries to focus on the clunky piece of paper you seem to be carrying around. 

He makes out the rows and columns of dates, an unimpressed look dawning on his face. “Don’t tell me…”

“Hm?” You hum lightly, beckoning him to continue. 

“Don’t tell me you carry that thing around and actually use it.” 

“What else can I say? We’ll need it, in the future. Once everything starts going back to normal, people are gonna be like, ‘Oh no! What day is it? What season are we going into? Must we start a new calendar?’ And then, I’ll have my trusty calendar right here, with all the dates crossed off. Think about it. Very important.” 

He remains quiet as you make big ‘X’ on the final date, October 31st. 

“Hm. We met on Halloween. Funny, isn’t it? I think it suits you a little.”

He disregards your last comment and speaks with a monotone voice, “Don’t get ahead of yourself. Humanity will never recover- that thing’s useless. Just taking up space.” 

You fall quiet after that. Normally, you think, you wouldn’t be too iffed by some pessimism. But his comment regarding your calendar and how easily he dismissed your hopes had hurt, just a little. 

Maybe more than a little. 

You instinctively held the thing a little closer to you, as if to protect it. You avoid his eyes and silently decide that the conversation should probably end there. 

He sees you shift a little farther away from him, bringing the stupid thing closer to your chest. He can’t find it in himself to care. 

You admire that cheesy stock photo on the top of the calendar before flipping the bottom page to sneak at a glance for the photo for November. It’s a scene of a pathway formed by trees, nearly dead trees, with the leaves caught mid-fall, yellows and oranges everywhere. November is, again, printed in large cursive at the top of the page. 

You fold it back up and jam it into your backpack before pulling it down closer to your head, to use it as a pillow. You wrap yourself up in your parka and turn to sleep on your side, back facing Megumi. He sees it all from the corner of his eye and scoffs to himself, remarking how childish you are. 

Steady hands lay his gun next to him, close to his head- just in case he ever needs it throughout the night. He sleeps firm on his back, but he turns his head to look at you just before he dozes off. 

Bathing becomes much easier, now that Megumi’s around. 

Before the two of you crossed paths, you would rid yourself of your clothes shakily, always leaving them on the rocks that kissed the lake. You couldn’t even clean yourself off properly, eyes always on the lookout for movement or an undead form to creep up on you. 

You had begged him. Shamelessly. The whole morning consisted of you yapping away, Please, Dog Boy, there’s a perfectly good lake right there, and a rock for you to sit on while you wait and patrol. I’ll patrol after. I really, really need this bath. 

He wouldn’t even look at you as he gave you a hard No.

Megumi was beyond dead set on moving forward. Over the last few days, he was always quick to shut you down and occasionally scold you for being so easily distracted and perhaps a little too light-hearted for your own good.

But this was your last straw. 

He only caved in when you threatened to wipe some of your sweat off on him. You had never seen him recoil from something so fast. 

After making him literally swear to not turn around and peek while you were bathing- to which he had rolled his eyes and told you he wouldn’t even dare to consider such a thing- you pointed to the rock for him to sit on before you began to strip. Megumi could only hear the light splashes of you walking into the water and your little cries of Oh my god, it’s so fucking cold. 

You gladly took advantage of such a moment. Finally, you had got to scrub every corner of your skin, finally got to really wash at your scalp, all without looking around in fear of what’s out there. 

And maybe you were taking a little too long, because after a while, Megumi coughed out to remind you that he was still there. His back was starting to hurt from sitting on the rock for so long without proper support. 

“How much longer are you going to take?” 

“Not too much longer,” You sing-songed, clumsily trying to dip your head in the water to wash out your hair. 

He rolled his eyes to himself at the tone of your voice. You were much too playful for his liking. 

“Don’t worry, Doggy,” You teased, though your voice was slightly muffled from your awkward position in the water. “You can bathe after this. Although, you might smell worse after- like wet dog.” 

He could hear you laughing to yourself like a child.

Megumi never responded to your little lighthearted jabs. 

Life goes on as it always has. With Megumi so quiet, sometimes you ponder if you had been better off just walking away from him that day. And, if he wasn’t quiet, he was always on your back about something.

(“Why’s this water so warm?” 

“I boiled it. It’s from the lake. We can’t get sick, you know.” 

“You poured hot water into an insulated water bottle?” 

“My God, just- just drink the damn water, Doggy. Or don’t, not like I care. More for me.”

“Shut up. I’ll drink it.”)

The two of you were nearly on opposite ends of the spectrum, personality wise. You two would’ve probably clashed if you hadn’t taken things in such a jovial manner. He even started calling you Sunshine mockingly, as if to belittle you for being so stupidly bright and optimistic when the world was reaching its end. 

The first time he called you that, you had actually smiled. He had to refrain from reprimanding you for being so… so...happy-go-lucky. 

He couldn’t pinpoint as to why your preppy nature had irritated him so much, but his epiphany reached him one night when the two of you settled against a group of tree trunks, like you always did. 

You were, as always, cuddled up with your little calendar. Megumi discreetly watched as you marked off the day, taking note of how you had to redraw the ‘X’ a few times. Your marker was drying out. 

You were well into November, and you scanned over the rows of dates, spotting the box marked Thanksgiving. With your tongue slightly poking out, you poorly drew a little turkey inside the box. 

He watched as you scanned over the top and bottom page again, but he felt like your mind was elsewhere. 

“When’s your birthday?” 

Your question caught him off guard, and he flustered as he quickly looked away, fearing that you had seen him watching. 

“What?” 

“Your birthday. When’s your birthday?” 

He cast you an awkward sort of look. “December 22nd.” 

“Cool,” You replied almost automatically before flipping the page of your calendar. Megumi’s eyes only slightly widened as he witnessed you try to cram the words Dog Boy Birthday in the little box marked with 22. He was unsure if he was meant to see that. He didn’t want to embarrass you by mentioning it, but he felt like it shouldn’t go unmentioned, either. 

“You don’t need to do that.” 

“Why not?” You were being genuine. 

“Because,” He said without knowing what it was he wanted to say. “Because. It’s pointless.” 

“Pointless this, pointless that.” 

Your comeback wasn’t all that great, but you had brushed off his statement so easily- you had seemed to have grown accustomed to his little remarks, especially the ones with negative tones behind it. 

That’s when his revelation crashed over him. It hit him so strongly, and he was frozen in place as you mumbled a goodnight before cuddling up to your clunky backpack. 

You were so precious. Because despite all your banter, you were always playful about it, and when you weren’t being playful, you were being genuine. You always openly offered him things, the fair share of your supplies, always told him to get some sleep while you keep watch, always told him to eat up, have the last of your water bottles, always looked out for him in little ways that he did not bother to return. And, what irritated him so much about it was that you were so vulnerable, open, shamelessly smiling and laughing alone or at him, trying to get him to laugh too. And he hated how you had done all this, offered so much to him, remained open to him, only for him to constantly chastise you and feed you despairing comments. 

He wanted you to put up more of a fight. He wanted you to be able to be okay, without him. Megumi criticized himself after having that thought. He knew that your nature didn’t equate to weakness, but he couldn’t help but let his mind wander off a little…. 

You were so easy to trust him. At any moment could you have given up something to him and he could’ve just ran off with it, leaving you empty handed and destined to literally die. He thought that if something were to ever happen to him, and you kept going on with your open, kittenish self, that someone would come along and take everything you ever knew and had. 

Thinking of it made his chest pinch. He felt guilty for criticizing your calendar, the symbolization of all your hopes, on the day that you met. If he hadn’t realized this all now, he may have become the one to take all that you knew and had, figuratively. The way that he had belittled your dreams for the future had already spoken for itself. 

He laid down to finally sleep after swallowing down his thoughts, and he turned to look at your sleeping form, wantonly. He wanted to be better to you.

Suddenly, he thinks about how weird he looks, watching you sleep. His ears flush red and he turns to sleep on his side, back facing you, as if he needs to cover his tracks from the peering trees. 

You’re woken up by a string of broken, awkward groans. 

You assume it’s Megumi. Your eyes are crusted with sleep, so you don’t even bother to flash him a teasing look as you lightly jab, “Hush, Doggy.” 

He doesn’t respond with his usual sneer or command to shut the hell up, but with an even louder, pained groan. 

You sigh to yourself. He’s probably having a nightmare. You feel generous enough to break him from his terrors and lazily sit up, roughly rubbing away at your eyes and reaching over to him. 

Your hands meet a still, soft and sleeping form, completely at peace. 

You do a double-take when the feeling of his form contradicts the pained sounds he’s making and suddenly, you’re up and wide awake, especially when you come to realize that the groans are not coming from him. 

Whirling around to find the source, you come to see a beat-down zombie, tumbling its way towards you both. It’s missing a leg and its steps are off-kilter, slow, and if you had it in you to laugh at it, you’d probably laugh. 

“Holy shit,” You whisper to yourself, body stilling out of fear. For a few seconds, you can’t bring yourself to do anything, and the creature crawls closer, despite it being so slow. 

You finally come to your senses and weakly shake Megumi to wake him up. 

He’s knocked out cold. You figure that it’s from exhaustion- the both of you had been taking a beating from your recent drop in supplies. The last thing the two of you ate was a granola bar for yesterday’s breakfast. It wasn’t even a whole granola bar- Megumi split it in half for the both of you. You had let him have the last drop of hot water, too. The both of you were running on empty.

You trip over yourself and hastily pull on your backpack, still focusing on getting Megumi to awake. 

“Dog Boy,” You whisper-yell, lightly kicking at his leg. It’s ridiculous, you think. All of this is ridiculous. You have only a sliver of time to spare, thanks to the zombie moving at the speed of molasses, so you settle yourself behind Megumi and wrap your arm across his torso, beneath his own arms, your grip on him loose as you drag his body further away. Your main priority now is getting away, creating distance between you and the undead figure. As you tug on him, his gun slips out into the sunlight and you gasp, using your other hand to grab at it shakily. 

You had no idea how to use it. 

You hold it up to the sun and try to look for the little safety knob that you often heard that guns have. You spotted it, but you couldn’t tell if it was on or not. 

You’re sloppily scooting back, heaving Megumi with you, nearly falling backwards from the weight of your backpack. If you’re being honest, the two of you hadn’t even gotten that far. With Megumi attached to his backpack, he was heavy, and with your newfound weakness from exhaustion, the two of you probably only moved five inches max. 

The creature looms closer, and on second thought, maybe using the gun isn’t that smart of an idea. It would be noisy, easily giving away your location and the two of you would instantly become magnets, become bait. You wouldn’t be able to drag Megumi away fast enough to save yourselves. 

You eye around for your bat but it’s much too far. It’s tucked away under the tarp on your wagon and the zombie is already too close, surpassing the wagon- there’s no way you could get it without actually surviving.

Tears prick at your eyes. No, you think, now’s not the time. Your hands are shaking- you’ve never been this close to a zombie before- and you’re thinking fuck it, your arm letting Megumi go to steady your grip on the gun. 

Megumi drops down on the ground with a thud as you release him, but you don’t have the time to fret over it and ask if he’s okay. You think your ears are playing tricks on you when you hear a groan that’s a little too close. 

You wrap your hands around the base and stupidly close your eyes as your finger lands on the trigger. 

Everything after happens too fast for you to register, almost like a dream. You feel cold hands wrap around your own and tear the weapon away from you, and then a few loud bangs go off, and then it’s quiet. 

“Christ,” He mutters, voice caked from sleep. His eyes are droopy, and he looks so jaded, you’re preparing for him to chew you out about how stupid you were being before offering a list of what you could’ve done better. 

But he only slumps from fatigue, closer to you, nearly into you. He’s the weakest you’ve ever seen him, but guilt nips at the edges of his heart for making you go through such a thing. 

“Are you okay?” He finally breathes out, lifting his head to meet your eyes. 

You’re taken back at the sudden display of concern. 

He sees your face flash with unfamiliarity as a response to his question. The guilt makes its way past the edges and into the depths of his heart, now. He hopes it’s not too late. He hopes that he hasn't already become that person for you, the one that takes everything you know. 

“Yeah,” You say quietly from the shock of it all. 

Megumi falls silent after that, tired.

A few beats pass and he speaks, “We need to keep moving,” He says weakly, convincing himself more than you. 

“Yeah.” 

Lethargy is a plague between the both of you. 

Megumi tells you that you both need to find a store, and fast. He pulls out a map from one of his backpack pockets, and it’s so torn and dampened with water and other questionable substances that you can barely even make out the lines. 

But he reads it like a pro. He misses the look of admiration in your eyes when he finally concludes that it would be smarter to move in closer towards the suburban area. He says there’s a higher chance of strip malls and markets to sneak around and take from. You trust his word. 

The trek there is nearly torturous.

It’s getting colder, and you try not to think about how the two of you will survive when winter hits. Your feet ache and ache, and you’re sure that you’re slowing Megumi down- you swear you see him slow down his steps just the slightest. You have to refrain from complaining like a small child, asking over and over Are we there yet?

You finally reach a parking lot, and you think you could nearly drop down to your knees and kiss the gravel.

Your sense of euphoria is interrupted as a horrible stench reaches your nose. It’s unmistakable; it makes you double over and slap a hand over your nose and mouth, coughing roughly as you feel a series of gags coming on. 

Dead bodies were sporadically laying across the parking lot, some human, some zombie. Megumi looks at you pitifully, then looks away as you live through your coughing fit, not wanting you to feel worse about being seen in such a state. 

“‘So bad,” You finally manage to wheeze out, cueing him to look at you. 

He reaches into the wagon, towards the end of it, where the clothing was stored all lumpy. He had to slowly pull out whatever it was he was looking for so that nothing else spilled out, and he tugged one end of it slowly, revealing it to you. 

A big, lumpy scarf that has the most terrible pink camouflage print all across it. It’s horrendous, really. You remember you had stuffed it into your wagon a few months back, thinking about how you’d probably need it later. 

Now was later. 

He steps closer to you, close enough that it’s distracting and you nearly freak out at the proximity. He sees your confusion spark across your face and he hushes you before you even start. “To help with the smell.” 

That’s all he says as he reaches behind you, gently wrapping the scarf across your head, leaving you enough room to breathe but making it secure enough so that the scent is muffled. 

“‘M so tired, Doggy.” Your voice was stifled by the heavy fabric. 

“I know,” He says, and he does. 

You then feel bad for voicing your little complaint. Megumi was just as tired as you were, perhaps even more, and he hadn’t complained once, nor did he scold you for being a crybaby like you thought he would. 

Once he saw that you were satisfied with the scarf and concluded that you wouldn’t bend over and gag again, he smoothed his hand over his jacket awkwardly. “I’m gonna go inside and find more stuff. Are you okay with me taking your wagon and your pack?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

Megumi has to lean in closer to hear your voice. “I understand if you don’t want to trust me with all your things.” “Our things,” you enunciate. 

“It’s-” He starts, then pauses abruptly. He doesn’t want to keep creating a divide between the two of you. “Yeah. Ours,” He affirms, searching your eyes for a reaction. He can tell you’re smiling stupidly (cutely) behind the scarf. 

“You’re sure?”

“More than anything.” 

He thinks, for a second, that your answer means something more. But you play it off, immediately taking off your backpack, so he chastises his previous thought as he takes your nearly empty pack into his hands. “Are you gonna stay out here?”

“Mhm. I’ll try ‘n find a place to sit.” 

“Okay. I won’t take long, I promise.” 

“Thank you.” 

He turns on his heel and walks in a straight line towards the entrance of the store, where you can make out the broken and crooked sliding doors that had probably been jammed so many times before they gave in. 

You take note of how many vehicles have been haphazardly left behind in the parking lot, mostly likely during moments of panic. 

If only... 

You begin to search the parking lot, bending down to get a clearer sight of all the miscellaneous objects scattered across the ground. Something glints in the corner of your eye, and you perk up, rushing towards it before scooping it up in your hand. 

It’s a clunky, round keychain that says Dog Dads Are The, and right below the text is an image of a dog taking a dump. 

“Huh,” You huff out with a little smile, “Perfect.” 

You take hold of the set of keys that are strung along the ring and single one out- vehicle keys. They’re the type of keys that you have to manually insert into the lock in order to actually open the car door. 

As soon as you stand up straight, you search for the oldest looking car throughout the entire parking lot. Your eyes fall upon a truck that looks like it’s been to hell and back, little scratches and scuff marks lining the sides with splotches of blood on the doors. You note that it only has two doors- the two of you will really have to squeeze in. 

If you ignore the poetic spots of blood, it's one solid color- a color that resembles dirt, you think. It looks like a little old farm truck, with crates stacked in the bed, and there’s a little figure of a cow swinging from the rear view mirror. 

You try your luck and insert the key, to which it fits. Your heart has never fluttered so viciously before. 

Turning the key, you see the little button on the inside of the door pop up. The door swings open ungraciously, a creaky sound ringing out. It makes you freeze, looking around to see if you had alerted anything that could be lurking. 

You decide to hold off until Megumi comes back. It’s completely dead quiet, and he might freak out inside the store at the sound of an engine. 

Just as he promised, he didn’t take long. He steps out to see you sitting in the truck with the door open, your knees brought close to your chest, and although the both of you are incredibly grimey, spent and hanging on to your final threads, you look so peaceful curled up like that. He thinks that maybe he would’ve liked to see you like that, under better circumstances. 

“Sunshine,” He starts as he gets closer, and you open your eyes and unravel from your coiled position. 

Megumi shuffles towards the bed of the truck and starts unpacking the wagon into the back. “Got some food,” he offers, unloading a loaf of bread that has yet to go stale. You hold it like it’s precious, waiting for him to unpack everything into your new truck. 

“Does it have gas?” 

“Dunno,” You say tiredly, and hopelessness sneaks up on you again. Perhaps you had put too many eggs in one basket. 

“Move over.” 

You scoot to the opposite side of the seat to make room for him. He plops down in the driver's seat and you perk up to hand him the keys, “Look, look.” Untangling all the keys from each other, you proudly hold up the keychain to his face. He furrows his eyebrows at first, but then his face melts into an amused expression as he reads over the whole thing and gets the joke. 

“Very funny.” He rolls his eyes, but you know he’s being lighthearted. 

He takes the key and inserts it, holding his breath in hopes that it’ll work, that the heavens are on your side today. 

They seemed to be, since after a few turns, the engine sputtered and coughed, and soon enough, it was settled. Megumi checks the gas level and nods approvingly to himself. He explains that it’s enough to get you a bit farther, but it’d be smart to keep an eye out for gas stations, or, better yet, other vehicles. 

You unwrap your scarf from around yourself and begin to unveil the loaf of bread as well, breaking the fluffy food in half to share. The two of you eat in silence, save for the low humming of the engine. You’re too tired to talk.  

Through the window, you see that it’s getting darker, and you remember your calendar. As you shuffle around to pull it out, Megumi seems to remember something as well, as he takes his bag into his lap and unzips one of the front, small pockets. 

You don’t notice his hesitation as you bring out the floppy thing and lay it on the dashboard, smoothing all the wrinkles away. 

He stares into his backpack pocket. He knows it’s okay to be vulnerable with you. He wants to be vulnerable with you. Embarrassment rushes up his neck and to his ears, but you don’t notice. You’re too busy shaking your old marker to force some ink to come out. 

“Here,” He breaks the silence, voice cracking from the lack of use. “Here’s…. I figured you might need it, I…” Megumi shuts himself up as he sloppily tosses you a pack of permanent markers. 

The way your face lights up makes it all worth it. He thinks he could face this type of embarrassing feeling every day if it makes you this happy. 

“D’awwwww,” You coo, poking fun at him. You’re as jovial as always, eyes bright as you uncap one of the markers and mark the day off, marveling at how smoothly the marker glides. 

He speaks up before he can stop himself. “I’m sorry.”

You pause and look back at him, the look on your face encouraging him to go on. 

“I mean, I’m sorry for… what I said on the day we met. About your calendar.” 

Your demeanor lightens again. 

“Ah, that- don’t worry, Doggy. I don’t even think about that, barely even remember it. It’s okay. You’re good.” 

He knows you’re being genuine, and that you really do forgive him. He sees it in the way you brush it off, going back to your markers and looking at them like they’re made out of gold. He feels something in his chest lighten, like the guilt from that night had been weighing him down this entire time. 

Once the both of you finish your chunks of bread, and after you tuck your calendar away, you curl up on opposite sides of the seat and sleep the most comfortable you have in ages. 

Everything’s a breeze now that the two of you have the truck. 

It’s easier to fend off the cold, and the both of you have more energy since you don’t have to walk anywhere. The days seem to fly by faster, and with each passing day, you see Megumi opening up to you a little more. He’s not as harsh as he used to be, and even when he does mock you, it’s playful and light. There’s no more malice laced in his tone. 

He’s softer now, cares more now. He accepts your invitations and attempts at making it concrete that it’s the both of you, together, as survival partners or whatever he likes to call it. Your stomach feels warm whenever he agrees or accepts your little comments about things being ‘ours’, referring to you as ‘us’ and ‘we’ rather than correcting you to ‘I’ like he used to. 

It’s not enough for you, though. You can’t help but want a little more. You’re thankful that the two of you greet December, because a) you’re grateful to have even survived this long, and b) it’s much colder now, so he doesn’t question you that much when you coyly try to cozy up to him before bed, complaining about how you’re freezing and that you’ll die of frostbite. 

He sees through your little act. He never mentions it, but he does. Megumi’s more than happy to let you have your fun. 

Megumi’s usually the one who sneaks out into stores to refill your load of supplies, and you stay cozied in the truck. He says it’s because at any moment, if any one of you are away from the vehicle, someone just like you could easily take it. His statement is true, but he doesn’t mention his second, secret little reason- he likes to know that you’re safe and warm in there. 

 One day, though, you try to kiss up to him so that he’ll let you loot with him. 

The morning starts off with you feeding him little compliments that are definitely out of pocket. 

“Your hair looks rather nice today, Dog Boy.” 

“Oh….yours, too.” 

“Mhm. And that jacket you stole fits you well, I think. Really, uh, matches your vibe.” 

“Yep.” 

“Yeah. Your scarf looks real… real snazzy, too.”

That pulls a laugh out of him- he had been borrowing your pink camouflage scarf. He knew something was up, and you knew he did. You just wanted to get on his good side, at least for today. 

“What is it that you want, Sunshine?”

“I wanna help you today, when you go fetch supplies.” 

He’s driving, but you think that if he was doing anything else, he’d stop his movements. He recovers as fast as he had reacted and clears his throat. “Why?” 

“I need some stuff.” 

“Stuff.” 

“Yeah.” You hope he doesn’t ask for elaboration. 

“I’ll think about it.” 

You let out a groan and let your head rest against the window, putting on a dramatic little show so that maybe he’ll cave. 

He doesn’t seem to be caving in any time soon, and from afar, you can see the parking lot. You’re eyeing him nervously, unsure if you should bring it up or not, but you make the first move when you hold onto the door handle as if you’re preparing to get out once he parks. 

He’s hesitant, takes his time to park and drives through the lot as if every space was taken. He could’ve taken up three spaces, if he wanted. 

“Doggy. Stop stalling.” “I just think you’d be safer if you stayed here.” 

“I’ll be fast. I’ll get what I need and then come right back.” 

That seems to ease his nerves, so he silently agrees and parks perfectly between the two lines before shutting the truck off. 

You walk together to the entrance of the store, but as soon as you make it inside, he laughs to himself when you make a beeline to the sweets aisle. He couldn’t believe that you made such a fuss to join along just to get some of those mini cakes. 

  You stay true to your word and gather what you need before making your way back to the truck, keeping an eye out for Megumi. You hope he doesn’t see the small chocolate muffin that you’ve stuffed close to your chest in a weak attempt to hide it. He’d probably make fun of you. 

When everything’s done and he meets you back at the truck, he’s slightly surprised to see that you hadn’t eaten your little sweet during ‘dinner’. He doesn’t have the energy to confront you about it. 

Today’s the day, you think. 

It’s difficult and very painful to conceal your excitement for all the hours that you spend at Megumi’s side. You try to calm your nerves by making lots of conversation with him, now that he’s more responsive. At first, you were the one to talk about your family, your old friends, how you grew up. Lately, though, in his mission to be more vulnerable and open with you, he reciprocates and tells you about his past, here and there. 

Night falls. He’s closing up one of his stories about one of his old teachers that usually made you laugh till you cried. It makes you laugh this time too, except your heart is racing and you can feel your palms getting a little sweaty. 

The both of you go quiet as you eat lightly, taking only a few bites before calling it a night. 

“I have a surprise for you,” You suddenly say, and his face is plastered with confusion. “I need you to close your eyes.” 

He’s so obviously taken aback that you snort at him. “Just for a second, it won’t take long. Please.”

He complies and places his hands over his eyes to reassure you that they’re for sure closed and that he can’t see anything. Megumi hears you rummaging around in your bag that you kept at your feet, hears you tear something open, and then you fall quiet. 

You kind of want to throw up. You don’t know why this feels so difficult, why it’s making you so nervous. In the past, when Megumi was mean to you, you think that this might’ve been easier, because you’d be able to tell what reaction he would give. 

You can’t tell anymore. 

You collect yourself together before you speak up, finally, “Okay. You can look now.” 

He removes his hands to see you sitting sideways in your seat, to face him. Your feet are tucked beneath you and you hold out a sloppy, slightly smeared chocolate muffin with an unlit candle stuck on top. 

“Happy birthday, Dog Boy.” 

Your voice is so soft and quiet, and he feels something take over him for a second. It’s strong, this feeling of adoration and something else he’s too nervous to admit, even to himself. He’s about to ask how in the world you would know that today’s his birthday, because he didn’t even know- but then he remembers the night you had written it into your calendar. 

“You,” He begins, nearly breathless. “Thank you.” 

You smile up at him and scoot closer, pushing the muffin towards him so that he could take it. He does, and he removes the candle and puts it on the dashboard, letting it roll away carelessly. 

The muffin looks miniature in his big hands, which is to his advantage as he splits it into two, effortlessly. He offers you a piece and you take it with a big, gushy smile on your face. You don’t see him smiling back at you endearingly. 

You’re bashful like the two of you are having a lunch date in a school courtyard. You want to look at him, revel in his features, but you don’t want to be caught staring either. 

You throw yourself a bone and let yourself glance at him. He’s finished his piece, and all he’s doing now is swiping the crumbs off of his jacket. As he shifts around, you see a smudge of chocolate right by his lip. 

“Wait,” You start, leaning closer. “There’s frosting on your lip.” 

“Here?” He pokes his tongue out on the wrong side, and you have to bite back a little smile. 

“No, no- I’ll get it for you,” You offer, leaning in even closer to him, nearly crawling right on top. You stick your thumb out gently, your touch feather light as you bring it to the corner of his lip and wipe off the small spot of frosting. 

You linger on purpose, and his breath hitches. 

“Sunshine,” He breathes, hands frozen in the air. He’s unsure of where to put them. 

“Mhm?”

“Can I,” He starts, hesitates, then starts again. “Can I kiss you?” 

Your smile speaks for you, but the moment that you let out a breathy yes, he cups your face and slots his lips against yours. He’s so soft, despite it being winter and the both of you constantly dry and chapped. He holds you, moves you like you’re a glass doll, so cautious and gentle. Megumi begins to shift the both of you, sitting up before pushing you down onto the seat. 

It’s awkward. The truck is so small, the both of you clunking around, but you two take it like champs. He breaks away to give a little laugh against your lips, easing the tension, and it’s so wonderful, so beautiful, that you waste no time pulling him back down to kiss him just a bit harder. 

You figure that he’s hesitant, and you appreciate that he isn’t pushy and trying to cross all boundaries at once. You know that if you only wanted to kiss and call it a night, he’d be perfectly okay with that. 

But you’re as greedy as ever, and you want more of him. 

You start playing with his lips, pulling away to softly bite at them, dart your tongue across the bottom one. It makes him freeze for a second, feelings of surprise and excitement engulfing his heart, but then he indulges. Megumi gently pulls your bottom lip into his mouth and sucks on it, thumb softly caressing your jaw. 

And you’re so starved, having gone months without even shaking someone’s hand. His actions make you gasp out softly, and he feels driven to pull more out of you. 

Megumi catches himself in his thoughts and pulls away again, “This- Is this okay?” 

You’re melting beneath him. You nod rapidly, begging silently. “Yes,” You huff out, precious smile coming across your lips. “Please.” 

He nods and then dives back in to kiss you square on the lips before moving lower, planting kisses down your neck as much as he can before your puffy parka interrupts him. He smiles fondly and looks up at you, seeing if you would notice the obstruction. 

“Oh,” You let out, face hot. “Sorry.” 

You’re so embarrassed, but Megumi thinks he could just eat you up. 

You prop yourself onto your elbows as best as you can, messily unzipping the jacket and flinging it away. It’s not like it goes far, anyway. You hear the zipper scratch against the glove compartment as you thrash it away, and it makes the both of you laugh breathily. 

You watch as he takes it upon himself to do the same, undoing the buttons on his own jacket before carelessly tossing it behind him. The two of you are now just in long sleeves and cargo pants, and he looks at you with an inkling of concern. “It’s still cold,” He whispers, now that he’s lowering himself back over you, “Leave it on, yeah?” 

You want nothing more than to rip your shirt off, but you know he’s right. You know that if you take it off, the bite of the cold would probably dampen your mood. 

You can only nod obediently, eyes begging him again, for a kiss. 

Megumi sneaks back down again to pick up where he left off, kissing along your neck and down to your collarbone before your shirt blocks off the rest of your chest from him. He’s moved his hands lower to rearrange your legs, to make it more comfortable for the both of you, and you’re so pliant beneath him, wanting all of his touches. 

His hands reach the button of your pants, “I’m gonna…” he starts, but never finishes. He’s caught up in the way you lift your hips to help him slide down your pants, caught up in the sight of you in your underwear. 

As soon as he tugs them off and pushes them to the side, you hiss as the cool air kisses your skin, and he’s quick to soothingly rub at your thighs, hands trailing down to your calves. 

“I know,” He soothes, warming you up. “I know, baby.” 

Megumi wants to take it slow, he wants to be able to ride out the moment, but the way you whimper at his touch pushes him. “Fuck- fuck, okay.” 

His movements and options are limited due to the space of the truck. He can’t necessarily do everything he wants with you, but he's grateful for the moment regardless. 

He moves back down to kiss you, slightly softer this time, with his forearm propped beside your head to keep him up, and his other trailing up and closer to the space between your thighs. Just the movement of his fingers gently dragging across your clothed cunt is enough to have you rutting up into his hand, desperate for more, tired of his slow pace. He’s swallowing all your sounds, but he pulls back as soon as he slips his hand beneath your panties, wanting to hear you this time. Cold fingers meet your folds and you twitch, legs nearly closing around his hand, and he smiles as he tuts at you. “Relax,” He breathes out against your jaw before softly nipping at it, kissing it. 

You’re already wet, and he smiles to himself cheekily before lazily rubbing his fingers against your entrance to slicken them. It makes you sigh out, so pretty and light, and he just loves the way your chest rises and falls. 

What he loves even more, though, is the moan you let out the second that he starts circling your clit, the way your hands tighten their grip on his shoulders. You’re trying to push yourself up against him, trying to feel more, but all he does is smile into your neck, absolutely basking in the way you need him so badly. 

“Please,” You finally cave, voice airy as you softly drag your nails across his back to get his attention. “More, please, I want- I want you.” 

He reaches up to plant a kiss on the corner of your lips. “All you had to do was ask.” 

He smoothly pulls down your underwear entirely, and just the sight of your arousal clinging onto the cotton fabric is enough to have him swallowing, adam’s apple bobbing. Megumi slips only his middle finger into your core at first, and it’s enough to satisfy you for now, walls fluttering. His fingers are so long, and you think about just how big his hands are, and it’s enough to make you whine in your own little fantasy. 

He takes his time in pumping it in and out of you before slipping his ring finger inside, picking up the pace. Your thighs tighten around his hand and you sloppily try to pull him down closer to you, hiding your face into the crook of his neck as he curls his fingers. The palm of his hand presses against your clit and you cry out, fingers latching onto his hair as you start your little spiel of babbles. 

“Right there, right there, oh my god, there, there-”

You cut yourself off as he speeds up, your cute little incoherent sounds encouraging him. He wishes he could see your face, see the look in your eyes, but you can only squeal into his shoulder and knock your knees against his legs as you feel something within you tighten. 

“Right here?” He teases, fingers curling against your warm walls, and the feeling of it is enough to make him hang his head low, panting, cock straining at the thought of how you’d feel around him. 

“Mhm,” You choke out, too far gone to try and say something to tease him back. Your head drops back onto the seat and you feel your back arch up against him, heat swarming in your abdomen as you chant out breathily- Yes, yes, yes. 

Megumi feels you tense up, and then you’re twitching, crying into him as you come undone all over his fingers, earning a groan from him. He works you through it, lets you have your fun before your vision is blurring and you’re half heartedly pushing his hand away. 

You fall limp beneath him and watch him with a hazy mind as he brings his fingers up to his lips, lapping at them, sucking them clean. 

You turn your head to the side, suddenly feeling shy. He smiles down at you, “Don’t try to be modest, now.” 

It makes you laugh weakly, makes you swat at his chest so softly that it feels like a mere tap. He dips back down to pepper the junction of your neck and shoulder in kisses, occasionally licking and biting, hoping little bruises bloom across your skin. 

The both of you freeze when you feel something hard poke at the inside of your thigh. 

Megumi groans, and you know he’s embarrassed. He buries his face into the side of your neck, hand slipping beneath your shirt to massage at your waist. 

You want him now, fast, before the two of you call it a night, and you want to call out for him. 

But you can’t just say Dog Boy, please fuck me. 

It makes you wince at yourself, but you’re too shy to ask for his name now. 

“Baby,” You finally breathe out, your hand running up and down his arm. 

He hums contentedly into your neck. 

“Need you,” You start quietly, taking his hand in yours and guiding it to your heat. “Need you inside me.” You swear you hear him groan a low Fuck right into your skin. 

He heaves himself up, eyes glossed over with lust and a glint of something that makes your heart skip a few beats, but you don’t want to jump the gun with that just yet. You can only hope that he sees the same thing in your eyes, too. 

Megumi sloppily works on undoing his pants, heaving a content sigh when you rushedly swat his hands away and take the task into your own hands. 

He stuffs his pants past his knees, frantically trying to kick them off his legs as fast as he can. 

You nearly whine at the sight of him, like this, all for you, in front of you. 

He moves down to kiss you, pushing you back down to the seat, making sure you were lying comfortably. He takes his cock into his hand, smoothing it over your wet folds back and forth to prep himself. 

You’re panting, lifting your hips, urging him on. 

He finally aligns himself with your slit, but pauses for a second. 

“Megumi.” 

“H-Huh?” 

“My name’s Megumi,” He suddenly confesses as he pushes his tip in slowly. 

You think you carry the universe in your chest. It feels like it’s expanding, endlessly, painfully- a delicious type of pain. You’re too caught up in the newfound intimacy of learning his name that your jaw goes slack as soon as you feel him bottom out within you, breaking you from your trance. 

You feel so full. 

“Megumi,” You cry unabashedly, moving your hips, encouraging him to move. 

He groans, big hands planting themselves on your hips as he begins with slow thrusts, drawing out the feeling. He hits all the right places, but the pace he’s going at is devastating.

You’re whining, begging, babbling out for him to go faster, to fuck me, please, please Megumi, and the sound of your pretty voice crying out his name is enough to drive him insane. 

He loves torturing you, really. Loves the way you cry for him, the way you clench around him, the way your voice shakes. 

Megumi sets a fast pace, rutting into you like you’re the outlet for all his pent-up feelings. You’re squealing, and when the tip of his cock hits the spot that sends you around the world and back, you feel tears blur your vision. 

“Feels s-so good, Megumi,” You chatter dumbly, too lost in the feeling and the sounds he’s making. 

“Yeah?” He strains, grip tightening on your hips. “Look so pretty like this, baby. So fucking- oh, god- pretty.”

He enunciates his statement with a particularly hard thrust that has your toes curling, your hands tight on his biceps before he moves to fold you in half, squeezing you into a mating press as best as he can. His eyes zero in on where the two of you meet as he tries to etch the sight into his memory. 

“Megumi,” You cry weakly, “So much, so so good, so- ah!”

You can’t even form a single coherent sentence, and he thinks you’re so adorable. He watches as fresh tears cascade down the path of dried ones, and it only spurs him further. The two of you are so pathetically desperate to reach your orgasms, you don’t even mind when his thrusts become sloppy and off-kilter, when he starts groaning and even lets out the prettiest of sounds when you flutter around him. 

You manage to collect yourself for just a second. 

“Please fill me up,” You beg, nodding dumbly to egg him on. “Wanna- wanna feel you cum inside me, wanna- oh, fuck, fuck, baby, please-” 

He knows it’s probably not the smartest idea, but he’s too caught up in chasing his pleasure, and your little begs and mewls make his movements stutter before he finally stills inside you, pressing your thighs to your chest to steady himself. 

“Take it, baby. Fucking- god- take it.”

“Mhm,” You nod frantically, static invading your vision, “Make me yours, please, make me- I’m, oh, I’m yours,” You’re running your mouth nonsensically, and the feeling of his seed spilling inside of you is enough to push you past the edge until you’re crying and shaking beneath him. 

He wants to hear you say it for forever, telling him that you’re his. 

He leans in to kiss your forehead, “Say it again.” 

You think you could pass out, chest still heaving up and down as you come back down from your high, but you would do anything to please him. “‘M yours.” 

Megumi smiles to himself before he pulls out, the sensation pulling a hiss from you as he lets you relax your legs and tries to clean the both of you to the best of his ability, considering the circumstances. 

He helps you slide your panties back on, maneuvers your legs for you so that you can tug on your pants, worried that you’ll get cold fast. 

You let him take charge, too exhausted to even move. Megumi splays across the seat and pulls you into his chest, trying to pull his jacket over the two of you like a blanket. 

“Megumi,” You say sleepily, cheek smushed against the spot where his heart beats. He hums, encouraging you to go on. 

“My name,” You start, “My name is (Y/N).” And, before you let him speak, you turn your head to look up at him with a cheeky little smile. “Does this make us friends, now?” 

He laughs. It’s your favorite sound.

“I hope we can be more than friends.” 

You hum affirmatively and kiss his earlobe before nestling against him, falling asleep.

The days are filled with love and gestures of affection after that night. Megumi is more comfortable now, though sometimes he pinches your side gently whenever you slip up and accidentally call him Dog Boy. He tells you that he demands reparations for your wrongdoings- he specifies that he would like to be paid back in kisses. 

Whenever you call him a sap, he pinches your side again. 

Although the two of you seem to be in your own little world, lost in love, the outer world has not changed. You add another step to your nightly routine, right before you go to sleep; Check the radio. 

Megumi leaves it propped on the dashboard at all times and frequently asks you to try and catch a signal so that the two of you can hear some news. Day after day, you find yourselves unlucky. You’re always greeted by the same crackle and fuzz. 

He’s been thinking hard lately, and you can see it. He’s always a little distracted, late to respond to you, or sometimes not even listening altogether. 

He’s thinking that at this rate, it may be smarter to settle down. To find somewhere to stay, to wait out the situation. Surely, with time, the zombies should die out. This cannot last forever. 

And while you’re splitting the food or reading outdated magazines that he grabbed for you at the store, he’s facing his own little mental battles. He knows that you dream of a better future, with people coming together and starting anew. And he knows that you’re becoming even more hopeful now that you’ve reached North and the camp should be within your sights at any time, but the journey itself is not promising. It’s colder, storms more often, the truck shakes and does not shield you from the cold all that well when the two of you are asleep. Megumi is nearly positive that the best idea, for now, is to settle down somewhere and to at least let the season pass. 

He’s promised himself that he’ll bring it up to you on this particular morning, as the snow kisses the windows and fights against the weak attempts of the windshield wipers. You’re rummaging through a magazine, reading it over for the nth time and trying to fill out one of the crossword puzzles you had previously left empty for times like this. 

“(Y/N),” He starts, mouth dry as he glances at you before looking back at the road. 

“Hm?”

“I’ve been thinking, recently…”

As he pauses to collect what he wants to say, you giggle to yourself. “I know. You always look kind of constipated, you know? You’re not very good at hiding it, Megs.” 

His face flushes red, and the both of you know it’s not from the cold. He appreciates that you’re not upset that he’s been keeping things to himself as of late, but he thinks he could’ve gone without the playful comment. 

“Anyway,” He stresses, though he doesn’t feel so panicky anymore. He strictly keeps his eyes trained in front of him, on the road, following the short, yellow lines that divide it down the middle. 

“I think… think we should settle down. The winter is only going to get harsher, and this truck is so old, I’m not sure how long it’ll last. We can find some place to stay- there’s empty houses everywhere- and we can sit out until the season is over. It’ll be safer that way.” 

His proposition hangs in the air. You’re awfully quiet, and for a second he wonders if you were even listening. 

“Megumi- pull over.” 

“Huh? What?” 

“Just- just stop the truck.” 

He thinks you’re angry, but you don’t sound it. He rushedly puts the truck into park and tries to catch a glimpse of your face, to see how you feel. 

You look focused. You don’t even bother to look at him; you’re looking past him.

He confirms that you probably weren’t even listening to what he said when you ask, “Do you see that? Over there?”

“See what?”

“That… that big white thing, like… look.” You point your finger in the general direction of what you see. 

“(Y/N), everything’s white- it’s snowing-”

You hush him, “No, no. It’s huge...it’s..”

You don’t finish. You’re tired of squinting to try and make out the shape of what you see, so you haul the truck door open and spill out of it clumsily, the snow catching you. Fear, hope, adrenaline, excitement; it swallows you whole and you think you could throw up. You trudge towards the front of the truck, snow pulling on your boots like it’s begging you to stay. 

Megumi follows after you, worried as to why you’re frozen in place, pushing past the clingy snow. Your name catches in his throat before he gets to call out to you. He finally sees what you see, just a few yards away. 

Children. Young, healthy looking children. They’re running around, squealing and throwing snow at each other, little hands covered in gloves and big, puffy jackets slowing down their movements. He sees people calling out to them, ushering them inside big tents- tents.

They’re caked with snow, but positively scattered all over the place. He sees people peeking out, zipping them up, running straight out of them to dive into inches of fresh snow.

You’re rushing back to the truck, feeling weightless as you snag your backpack from the passenger seat and haul it with you as you try to run past Megumi, towards the people. “Hurry, Megumi!” You call, a smile so evident in your voice. 

“I have to show them my calendar!” 

#megumi x reader #fushiguro megumi x reader #fushiguro x reader #jjk x reader #megumi fluff #megumi smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk smut

[blackleatherjacketz]

Mouthy

Miguel O'Hara x Female Reader

Summary: Miguel has been watching you, and is willing to do anything it takes to get you to join his team.

Warnings: 18+ Only!, NSFW, Explicit Smut, Teasing, Flirting, Kissing, Biting, Blood Drinking, Licking, Thigh Riding, Undressing, Voyeurism, Female Masturbation, Finger Sucking, Hair Pulling, Cunnilingus, Vaginal Sex

Word Count: 2.6k+

Read more of my MIGUEL stories!

You had been toying with Miguel all night, sparring with him until your sweaty session had resulted in swinging from rooftop to rooftop, leading his tour of your world to an end at the top of your apartment building. Three separate visits to your universe in the span of two months had led you to believe that he was getting desperate for help, or for something else. The first time he showed up was to help you battle one of the more formidable foes of your crime-fighting career, the second to ask you to join his group of heroes to fight off even bigger threats, and the third, well… you’re still trying to pin down.

If Miguel is anything, it’s persistent.

“Give up already?” He chides, denting the metal of the AC unit with his landing as you finally stop swinging.

“Who’s giving up?” You pull the mask off your sweaty face as his head piece disappears without a trace, revealing his gorgeous features and flowing raven locks.

“It’s only midnight,” he points to his watch as he walks toward you, those hips of his sauntering in a way that nearly hypnotizes you on the spot. “Plenty of other threats around the city to be squashed.”

“Then go squash them.” You challenge, tilting your head to look at him from another angle. Why can’t men in my universe look like him?

“You’d like that, huh?” He keeps advancing until he stops just short of you, his broad shoulders towering over you as a light breeze blows the smoky scent of his cologne into your nostrils. As if you hadn’t already committed it to memory. “If I did all the work?”

“Well, you can’t blame a lady for wanting to know if something’s worth her while.” You tease as he closes the space between you, backing you up against the rusted metal door of the stairwell. “Because if we’re being honest, Miguel, I’ve thought long and hard about it, and I’m perfectly fine here on my own.”

“I can see that.” His irises glow a fiery red against the white sclera of his eyes, searching your face for any hint of doubt or deceit. Your senses had been telling you that he wanted much more from you than just a teammate, the sound of his pulse quickening whenever he looked at you barely louder than the silence of his stilled breath. He wanted you… needed you almost as carnally as you needed him, and it was getting to be more difficult for either of you to ignore it.

“But don’t you want to be more than ‘just fine’?” He plants his palms against the brick structure behind you, his direct proximity tying a knot into your stomach as the night sky behind him somehow bleeds a passionate crimson hue. You can visibly see his intentions, actually feel the desire as it emanates out of his pores and into the hot summer air, drawing you in with its magnetic pull. “Don’t you want to be amazing?”

“I can tell that you do.” You smirk, prolonging your trance as you trace the bright red outline of the spider on his chest, watching it rise and fall faster with each word you speak. “Not everybody wants what you want, Miguel.”

“Is that so?” He leans in close, his full lips brushing against your ear as the hair on the back of your neck stands on end. “Is that why you moan my name at night every time I leave your world?” He slides his knee swiftly between your legs, gently lifting it up the crevice of your thighs until it rubs that sensitive spot between them.

“You’ve been watching me?” You knew that he’d been keeping tabs on you from whatever little hideout he had beyond your known universe, but you didn’t realize that he was paying that close attention to you. How much of your behavior had he actually witnessed? Was he speculating, hopeful, or had he actually watched while you slid your fingers beneath your underwear to satisfy that sudden urge his presence always seemed to evoke?

“You’re surprised?” He jeers confidently, his breath hot on your neck as he draws out a groan from your chest with another brush of his thigh, tapping into your natural moisture.

“That doesn’t really seem fair,” you start, eyes fluttering to catch glimpses of that scarlet sky phasing in and out of black and magenta as he continues to stimulate you. “You get to see all of me, but I don’t get to see any of you.”

You wonder just how far he took his viewings of you late at night; how many times he tuned into his recurring guest appearances in your imagination before you pleasured yourself into a dull, blissful slumber. Had he joined you in your handiwork, stroking himself in tandem, worlds apart, just in time to mutter your name with his release before the connection was lost? Or had he stayed tuned way past your loss of consciousness, hoping to hear some verbal confirmation of his presence even in your dreams?

“We can change that, you know.” He closes his eyes as you run your fingers through his hair, his thick lashes feathering over the shell of your ear as he presses a kiss into your neck.

“You’re gonna let me spy on you when you jerk off, too?” Your breath halts as he tastes the skin behind your ear and underneath your jawline, his teeth nipping at your pulse to make you pay for your quippy retort.

“Aye, cariño, are you always this mouthy?” He grabs onto your chin in a failed attempt to reign you in, the tips of his protracted claws nearly breaking your skin as he thrusts himself against you.

“You have no idea.”

—————————————

Miguel manages to stumble into your apartment with your legs wrapped around his waist, his clawed hands grasping at your thighs as they desperately cling to his hips. He pulls you up into him as he rounds the corner past your couch, his erection stretching the navy blue fabric of his suit as it grows harder against the drenched mound between your legs.

“You fucking taste like heaven, you know that?” He whispers through a dozen hungry kisses, the sharp sting to your skin and the iron of your blood flooding your senses as he bites down onto your bottom lip, wantonly sucking it into his mouth. That twinge of pain that would have hurt before you got your powers is nothing more than a scratch, a mere tickle as the warmth of his tongue soon counters it. He tugs and pulls every bit of flavor he can out of it, savoring each hint of salt and remnant of coffee on your tastebuds as he nearly gnaws your lip right off in the process, running into every wall along the way until he eventually reaches your bedroom.

“I thought you said those things were venomous.” You worry aloud, just now noticing their size and severity as he tosses you onto your bed with a lick of his lips.

“Only when I need them to be.” He grins and helps you peel your suit off your arms and torso, tugging it down past your hips and thighs before stepping out of his own spider suit with unmatchable ease. Eyes ravenous with lust, he watches you pull the last bit of stretchy cloth off your calves and feet, licking the tips of his fangs again as you toss your costume onto the floor.

“Well that’s lucky for me, then.” You sit up and press your knees into the mattress in order to get closer to him.

“Lucky for both of us.” He slides his thumbs beneath his boxer briefs and exposes what he’s working with, stealing the very breath from your lungs. Before you can comment on how big he is, before you can make a joke about how you won’t be able to walk tomorrow, he steps toward you and places his hand in the middle of your chest, pushing you flat onto your back.

“Touch yourself,” he instructs sternly.

“What?” Your brow furrows. Hasn’t he gotten enough of that through his viewfinder? Wasn’t that the whole point of him coming here in person? To actually touch you with his own hands and taste you with his own mouth? So that he didn’t have to just watch?

“I want you to touch yourself like you do when you think I’m not watching,” he reiterates, standing his ground as he resists the temptation to stroke himself, a single droplet of precum leaking from the tip of his cock.

“Oh. Okay.” You nod, his demanding tone of flattery quickly fueling your actions as it overpowers that inherent sense of stage fright nagging in the back of your head. “I can do that.”

You watch him hold his breath as you slide two fingers into your mouth, sucking on them as gratuitously as you can before pulling them out with a long trail of spit leading down your chin. His eyes follow your digits with rapt attention as you bring them down your body, their deep ruby hues darkening to burgundy as his pupils begin to dilate. You hear his breath hitch as you graze over your hardened nipples, snake your way down your navel and finally smooth them in between your soaking wet folds, exciting the sensitive neurons that have been begging for attention since the moment he arrived.

Doing as you’re told, you spread your juices up and down the length of your lips, catching a glimpse of his cock twitching against his stomach in anticipation, throbbing as you slowly pull upward on your clit. You can’t help but wonder how amazing he’s going to feel once he’s inside of you, your fingers barely able to do his length and girth any justice as you slide them inside your walls.

“That’s it, baby, just like that,” he finally exhales with a hint of a moan. He retracts his claws with a bite of his lip, cautiously touching your bare feet with the palms of his hands before slowly spreading your legs apart as he continues to watch you work. “Who knew your pussy’d be just as pretty as your face, huh?”

You huff in exasperation, too stunned to speak as his grin mimics your smile from the edge of the bed.

“You look even better from this angle, you know that?” Another lick of his lips spurns a trail of kisses onto the balls of your feet as he crawls between your legs, sucking little bruises into your calves and behind your knees; mementos for you to remember him by once he inevitably returns to his own world. You keep rubbing your bud up and down as he advances along your body; his lips, teeth and tongue massaging the skin of your inner thigh as waves of pleasure start building up into your core from both of your tantalizing efforts.

It isn’t long before he lifts your leg up over his shoulder, biting into your thigh once more before looking up at you with completely blackened eyes, your blood now staining his lips as it smears across his cheek. You moan as he takes his time lapping up the scarlet fluid as it mixes with his saliva, dripping down between your crevices as his mouth gets that much closer to your needy center.

Without a word of warning, he grabs onto your wrist and carefully pulls your fingers out of your swollen heat before encircling them with his lips. Those charcoal eyes of his roll back into his head, a deep guttural groan vibrating around your fingers as his tongue surrounds them, the savory flavor of your blood now blending in with the sweet tanginess of your sex. You push them in even further past his blood-stained lips, shivering in arousal as he sucks all the way down to your knuckles, making a sloppy show of licking them clean before finally drawing them out.

“Not so mouthy anymore, huh?” He asks, kissing the palm of your hand before lifting it up and placing your wet fingers into his hair.

“Uh-uh,” you whisper, the heat from his breath sending phantom pulses of bliss up through your spine, leaving you practically speechless.

“Then let’s see if I can get you to make some noise.” He licks a stripe up the length of your folds, choosing not to use his fangs on your most sensitive area as he focuses solely on tasting your raw flesh. He groans into your skin as he licks you up and down, inhaling your pheromonal scent as if your very essence is the only thing capable of sustaining him any further.

Your eyelids fall shut as you allow a few breathy moans to escape your lips, his tongue saturating every receptor you have with such an intense euphoria that it forces your hips to buck up into his mouth. Your grip on his onyx locks tightens as he continues to suck on your clit, pulling it taut into his mouth just like he had with your bottom lip, persistently eating you out like a man starved for days.

“See how good you are at following my orders?” He stops licking you just as you’re on the brink of ecstasy, a thin ring of red now glowing around the rims of his irises. “I just need you to do one more thing for me.”

“Oh yeah, and what’s that?” You barely have the capacity to ask, your muscles vibrating beneath him with the promise of release that he so quickly took away from you.

His full lips curl into a smirk as he licks your bud one last time, kissing his way up your belly and breasts before reaching your neck, his cock needily bobbing between your legs until it slides inside you without ceremony. You gasp as his girth fills you up with impeccable ease, your slick walls welcoming his thick throbbing member, clenching down around him as he gently thrusts up into you.

“Miguel!” You shout in a stifled whisper, stars shining in your eyes as the tip of his cock hits that bundle of nerves he’s been teasing all night.

“Come for me,” he growls against your throat, all traces of that controlled man fading away as he pins your wrists to the mattress before bottoming out completely, rutting into you repeatedly like a wild animal.

“Mmm hmm!” Your moans echo off the walls in your bedroom as he drives himself further inside your heat, ricocheting off your nightstand and ceiling fan until they dissipate into the air above you, falling down like raindrops as they cover you both. His hips only quicken their steady pace the deeper he gets, sending hit after hit of white hot bliss up into your core until your body can no longer take it.

That wave of pleasure you’re so used to delivering yourself nearly takes you out completely as it washes over every inch of you from the inside out. It paints every cell in your skin, muscles and bones all the colors of the rainbow under Miguel’s hypnotic thrusts, his sweat dripping down onto you in tiny translucent beads before melting into your skin. Both of you phase in and out a variety of shades and patterns as you wrap your legs around his hips, drawing him in to make sure he feels the heightened state of nirvana he’s finally brought you to.

“I can feel you falling apart around me, cariño,” he whispers into your shoulder, thrusting one last time as hard as he can as he twitches and spasms inside you. Lavender paisleys, red and white stripes, olive and orange checkers all slowly fade away to a calm light blue before he pulls out and eventually lets go of your wrists. “You sure you don’t want to join my team?”

#miguel o'hara #across the spiderverse #oscar isaac #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara smut #spiderman 2099

[roosterforme]

Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw Part 2 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: The collection of letters that Bradley received from the fourth grade class provides him with entertainment while deployed. He takes the time to answer their questions and send a package back to the United States via air mail. But he has your email address. He also has a bit of a crush and some questions himself.

Warnings: Fluff, language

Length: 4100 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female teacher!Reader

Check out my masterlist for more! Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw masterlist

A few days later, when Bradley was done with his training protocols for the day, he returned to his bunk with a different mission in mind. While he unzipped his flight suit, he eyed the box which was taking up most of his nightstand, and a smile found its way to his lips. He managed to find a notebook that nobody wanted along with a thick, padded envelope, and he was going to take the time to respond to the fourth graders who wrote to him. 

He'd spent hours poring over the letters, laughing at some of the questions from the kids and frequently picking up that one photo. He couldn't stop going back for more. For another look at you. Just one more look. Okay, this really was the last one. He had to toss it across the small room toward his duffel so he could focus on something other than your smile and the fact that he might have a tiny crush on a fourth grade teacher who knew absolutely nothing about him. Yet.

The note from Jayden was on the top, and Bradley opened it up and started to jot down a response.

Jayden,

It was so nice to hear from you and the rest of your class. To answer your pertinent questions, I am currently stationed on the USS Theodore Roosevelt. The most disgusting food in the mess hall is easily the cabbage rolls (which taste nothing like cabbage... or rolls). The best food in the mess hall is surprisingly the meatloaf. And yes, I would love to see a photo of your Cocker Spaniel. Please send one next time. I hope you're studying and doing your best in school.

Lt Bradley Bradshaw

The next note he decided to tackle was the one from Violet who had the tiniest handwriting he'd ever seen. The page had at least fifteen questions written out, but he decided to answer just a few for her. He had to squint as he skimmed through them again.

Violet,

You seem very inquisitive. That's a great quality to have, especially if you want to be a pilot someday. No, I did not attend the Naval Academy. I went to the University of Virginia. Yes, the Navy is way better than the Air Force. Yes, I can hold my breath underwater for three minutes. Yes, they actually made me do it. No, I don't think I could make it as a Navy SEAL. Yes, I have been staying hydrated and getting enough sun, thanks so much for asking. Keep studying hard, because you have a lot of school ahead of you before officer training.

Lt Bradley Bradshaw

Okay, so this was actually a lot of fun. Up next was a response to the note from Oliver, which made Bradley laugh every time he looked at it. 

Oliver,

Thank you so much for drawing the different Naval aircrafts for me. I hate to break it to you, but I actually do not fly the F-35 Lightning II. Yes, I know they look 'sickeningly cool'. Yes, I know it would be like 'slam dunking off the back of a dragon'. I guess I never knew I was jealous of those pilots until right now.... But I fly the equally cool if not quite as sickening looking F/A-18 Super Hornet. And yes, I would be more than happy to draw my own version of one for you. See below.

Lt. Bradley Bradshaw

The ten minutes he spent replicating his own aircraft to the best of his ability for Oliver churned out a pretty damn good result. He fished his phone out of the nightstand and took a picture to email to Nat when he had time, because she would find this whole thing amusing. Then he reached for the letters from Harrison, Nia and Jackie. He wrote his responses, and after a bit, he had a decent sized stack of letters all ready to go back to the fourth graders.

After a few more days, he worked his way through the entire class, and each kid would soon have a handwritten response on the way. He just needed to figure out what he wanted to say to you. The pretty teacher from the class photo that he now kept tucked in with his personal items. He worked on that one last, writing your full name at the top of the page and wishing you didn't go by the very non-specific Ms. which gave him zero clue as to whether or not you were married.

The package you sent was the nicest piece of deployment mail I have ever received. Thank you. I'm lucky it ended up in my hands. I'm impressed by how much all of your students have learned about aviation this year. I just hope I did them justice in regards to the questions they had for me.

I also hope you don't mind that I replied to each kid individually. They had some very amusing stories and questions, and I wanted to acknowledge all of them. But there was one question in particular that I was asked so many times, I thought I'd answer it here instead. My call sign is kind of a silly one, so it's okay if you all laugh. I go by Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw, and my helmet is mostly red, yellow and black.

Your kids seem like a fun bunch, but I bet they keep you on your toes. Feel free to let them know they can write back to me again, but please include my name on the package this time. I don't know that I'd be lucky enough to have it fall into my hands again by chance. I'll just be here somewhere in the middle of the Pacific Ocean for a few more months, ready to answer any questions you throw at me. Hope to hear back from you soon.

Yours Truly,

Lt Bradley Bradshaw

The following day, he packed everything up and dropped it off with the rest of the ship's outgoing mail. There was a rumor that a helicopter would be coming to pick it up in the next day or two, and he wanted to make sure it got back to California and those fourth graders as soon as possible. On his way back to his bunk, Bradley stopped by the lounge to see if there was an iPad free, hoping to send a quick email or two. He was in luck. He also happened to have your email address memorized.

--------------------------

You yawned at your desk and checked the time on your computer. Within the next ten minutes, your classroom would go from silent solitude to mass chaos, so you took a minute to clear out your email inbox. You had a few messages from some parents and a reminder about Spirit Week from the superintendent. And a random piece of junk mail that must have slipped through the spam filters. You didn't know anyone with a US Navy email address, and you didn't know anyone named Bradley Bradshaw.

As you closed your laptop, you gasped and tried to pry it back open again as quickly as you could. The Navy! The package you sent a few weeks ago! Maybe it was someone writing back to your class! Of course it could just be someone saying they were sorry that they didn't have time to engage with your students, but you figured even that was better than nothing. 

"Come on," you whispered, entering your credentials again before your inbox reappeared on your screen. The email was just a few lines long, but it was addressed to you by name. You were smiling immediately as you read it.

I just wanted to let you know that I got the mail you sent to a deployed Naval Aviator. There's a package on its way to your school for your class. It should arrive in about a week or two. Your fourth graders provided me with several hours of entertainment, and I hope they find my answers to their many (and amusing) questions useful. Thanks for the laughs, and thanks for the photos, too. Can't tell you how much I've been enjoying them. Hope to hear from all of you again.

Yours Truly,

Lt Bradley Bradshaw

You squealed and pumped your fists in the air. Someone actually got the box! And he actually responded! The other, older teachers thought you were just wasting your time when you deviated from the lesson plans a bit. Literally all of them said there was no way anyone would write back, even though you took the time to go through the proper channels at Top Gun on North Island. But now you could rub it in their faces, all thanks to Bradley Bradshaw who sounded like he'd had as much fun with this whole thing as your class had.

Then your day really started as Violet and Oliver burst into your classroom, calling out your name with excitement in their voices. The rest of your kids followed behind them, already asking about the plans for the day and what kind of adventure you'd be taking them on in each subject. 

When you clapped your hands twice and said, "Good morning," they all clapped and replied with their own greeting, and then they sat quietly with their gazes fixed on you. "Guess who I just got an email from!"

"The president!" 

"My grandma!"

"My Cocker Spaniel!"

"Oliver's grandma!"

You just shook your head and tried not to laugh as you said, "None of the above. But do you remember when we wrote and packed up those letters for a real aviator in the military to read?" Most of the kids nodded, so you added, "Well, he emailed us! And he sent us some mail that should arrive in about a week!"

And telling them that was a mistake. Because you didn't know a moment of peace after that. Every morning, you had kids rushing into the room to see if the promised piece of mail arrived yet. Every day you had to disappoint them, but you were finding yourself a little disappointed, too. You wanted to know what this Bradley Bradshaw guy sent back. 

You'd responded to his initial email letting him know you and the kids in your class were delighted to hear from him and that you would let him know when the mail he sent arrived at your school. He didn't respond, but you figured he was busy. Too busy to constantly muck about with your class while he was thousands of miles away on a deployment. 

And that was what left you standing at your desk with your mouth hanging open in awe when the padded envelope did finally arrive one morning. Because when you carefully cut it open, you found not just one letter to the class but individual handwritten notes, one for each child.

"Wow," you whispered, pulling the note with your name written on the top out of the stack. This man seemed humble and sweet, and his letter made you laugh in more than one spot as you read through it. Then you read it again. He sounded apologetic about responding to each individual kid, but you felt like your insides were melting. Who would do that? Who would take the time to give individual attention to a bunch of nine and ten year olds besides you? And you were technically getting paid to do it. 

Bradley Bradshaw seemed willing to continue to engage with your kids, and you weren't going to stop him. Because starting that morning, he became something of a legend to your class. A celebrity. A real lieutenant in the Navy replied to all of their silly questions, and their love of aviation just grew from there. You figured you were going to have to keep your lesson plans going a bit longer while their faces lit up as you walked around the room and handed them each their notes. You had taken the time to skim them beforehand, often laughing at his sense of humor which seemed to jump off the pages.

"Can we write back to him?" Jayden asked as everyone read their notes from Lieutenant Bradshaw. "I have more questions."

You smiled and nodded. "Yes, you may write back to him." Then you postponed your geology lesson until the next day and let them spend the next forty minutes writing some followup letters. You took some pictures of them diligently toiling away at their desks, excitement on their faces. Then you bit your lip and sat down at your own desk.

As you started to construct an email letting him know the envelope had arrived, your thoughts drifted to what he might be like. Humble and sweet, for sure. But he also made it a point to tell you that the box from your class was the best piece of mail he'd ever received while deployed. Maybe he was a little bit lonely. Maybe he was single. Maybe he was stationed on the west coast. Your thoughts started to get ahead of you, and it was hard to reel them in when you imagined him excited to see another email from you. Smiling when he was handed another box from your class during mail call.

Dear Lt Bradley Bradshaw,

We got the envelope from you today, and my kids are absolutely thrilled! I'm not sure if you know how hard it can be to wrangle eighteen fourth graders all at one time, but they are currently sitting quietly and working on new letters for you to read. Once again, please don't feel obligated to continue correspondence if you're too busy. I'm sure you have other people you could be writing to who want your attention as well. I just wanted you to know they are overjoyed that a Naval officer took the time to answer their questions about aviation.

I have attached some photos as proof that they are sitting still. Thanks again for making their day.

You signed your name at the bottom the way you always would from your work email account, and then you attached the photos. After a brief debate about adding the selfie you took with Violet where most of your face was visible, you decided to just go for it. Adding it to the mix wouldn't hurt anything. It wasn't like this semi mystery man would be up all night thinking about you. 

But you found that you were still thinking about him when you went home to your silent house and made dinner that evening. Maybe he was a little bit lonely, but maybe you were, too.

-------------------------

It was amazing how infrequently Bradley found himself thinking about Vanessa. He was busier now with his duties picking up a bit more as his deployment wore on, but even when he was tired and in his bunk at night, his thoughts seldom settled on her like he was afraid they might. He didn't miss her or her half-hearted emails, and he wasn't craving the connection of reunion sex with her. 

Instead, he was thinking about what a group of fourth graders were learning about this week and what their cute teacher was up to. It had been a few days since you emailed him, letting him know that his package was delivered to your school. You made it sound like the kids were excited that he sent it in the first place, and when he really thought about it, he supposed some officers would have just eaten the snacks and tossed the notes in the trash.

He didn't reply to the email yet, still thrown off a bit by the pictures you attached. Your classroom was vibrant, and the kids were absorbed as they worked on more notes for him to read whenever they happened to be delivered to the carrier. But the photo with you in it held his attention longer than it should have. The fact that you were working at a school that was just a handful of miles from his damn house made him feel warm.

But what would he do about it? What could he do about it? Nothing. He didn't want you to think he was creepy. He still knew essentially nothing else about you. The only thing he could do was keep it friendly if not professional. Unless of course you did something to push the boundaries of conversation into a more personal realm. God, if you did....he didn't think he would be able to handle it. 

The next day, when he was heading out on deck to talk to the mechanics who were doing regular maintenance on the aircrafts, he took his phone. "Hey, you mind if I take a few photos of some of the engine parts? I want to send them to a class of fourth graders who will think it's cool."

"Go ahead, Lieutenant," the head mechanic replied. Then he smiled and asked, "You dating a teacher?"

Well. Wouldn't that be something? Bradley would never run out of curious pen pals. He would always have some fourth graders to take interesting photos for and to send notes to. He'd always have a classroom to visit as soon as he got home from a deployment.

He couldn't help but picture you as the teacher.

"Nothing like that," he replied, his voice a little gravelly. "Just writing to some kids who are learning about aviation."

After dinner, when he had a chance to use an iPad in the lounge, he did his best to put together a response to your email that would at least hint at the curiosity he felt. 

If all it takes is mail from three thousand miles away to get your class to sit quietly, then I should probably be writing to you every day. But I'm sure you're a great teacher. That's a given considering how much your students learned and shared with me. And I can assure you that I'm more than happy to take the time to write to your class. And you. Please don't think I feel obligated, because I do not. I want to.

I have attached a few pictures of some F/A-18 engine components as well as some of my cockpit controls. Each photo is labeled, but please let me know if you have any questions.

It was nice hearing from you.

Yours Truly,

Lt Bradley Bradshaw 

As soon as he hit send, he wanted to kick himself. Should he have included a photo of his face like you had twice now? Or did he already sound too desperate to hear from you and your class again?

"Shit," he muttered, looking around the lounge as if there was going to be someone here proficient in the art of getting to know a fourth grade teacher without sounding stupid. But it was too late now. All he could do was wait for the next mail call or hope you decided to write back to his ramblings by the next time he checked his email. 

-----------------------------

You were going to have to scrape your jaw off the floor. You had no idea what this man's face even looked like, but his hands were... something else. And his thighs... well, they were pretty great, too. It must have been too long since you got laid, because you were sitting at your desk in your classroom staring at the set of photos in your inbox, currently unable to look away from his right hand. It was wrapped around the throttle of his aircraft. It was elegant with attractive veins and rough calluses. You were sure that you were supposed to be focusing on the cockpit controls, but all you could see was that hand and his thick, muscular thighs below.

The next photo was no better for you. He was holding up his helmet with his call sign Rooster emblazoned across the front, and you were able to see his left ring finger. There was no wedding band. There was no evidence of an outline where a wedding band would belong. There was just his big, strong hand.

You whimpered softly while your students worked on their math tests. You couldn't help it as you took one last look before logging out of your email account. And now you needed to know if his face matched the very attractive image you had in your mind. 

When Jayden called your name, you rocketed to your feet like you'd been caught red handed. "Yes?" you squeaked, your voice sounding higher pitched than usual.

"I'm done with my test. May I have the hall pass and use the restroom?"

You handed it to him as the rest of your class finished working through the math problems. A few minutes later, when you collected the papers from them, Violet asked, "When is Lieutenant Bradshaw going to write back to us?"

It had only been a few days since you mailed him the second box of notes and some more snacks, but it made you happy that they were all so invested in learning more from him. 

"It will probably be a few weeks before we get anything in the mail. However... he did email me some pictures of engine and cockpit parts from the aircraft carrier for me to share with you guys." When you looked around the room, the kids were on the edges of their seats, excited expressions on their faces. With a laugh you added, "I was going to wait until tomorrow and use the projector to show them all to you, but if you're very well behaved for the rest of the afternoon, maybe I could pull them up on my computer for you to see them today."

Not two hours later, you were just as excited as the kids were to look at the photos... again. As they crowded around your desk, you opened up the first one of the cockpit to a barrage of questions. 

"Is that really his jet?"

"Is that the throttle?"

"What do all the buttons do?"

"Was this right before he flew it?"

Once again you were distracted, but you managed to click over to the next photo, and the kids gasped in delight. 

"His helmet is so cool!"

"It says Rooster!"

"That's his call sign!"

"Red is my favorite color!"

You just smiled softly and laughed. "Should we go ahead and start working on another list of questions for him?" you asked as you slowly scrolled through the rest of the pictures. "He said we can write back to him as much as we want to." When everyone cheered, you handed Oliver a marker and pointed to the board at the front of the classroom. "Let's start making a list."

You listened to all of your students call out questions for Bradley while Oliver wrote them down. Then Violet asked, "Can he send us a picture of his whole jet? From the outside of it?"

You cleared your throat and added, "Maybe he could get someone else to take the picture so he could stand in front of it. For size comparison."

Violet nodded, but you knew you were a fraud. Sure, it would be great for the kids to understand just how massive the F/A-18s were compared to an actual person, but you were the one who wanted to see all of Bradley. You were itching for it now. 

Later that night, you drank most of a bottle of wine and did something you promised yourself you'd never do. You logged into your work email account after nine o'clock. You skipped over the handful of unread emails from parents and clicked on the icon to compose a new message. With your liquid courage goading you on, you typed up a response to Lieutenant Bradley Bradshaw and hit send before you could think twice.

Thank you for the photos. They were very enlightening. We especially liked the ones where you were showing off your cockpit. Or I did, anyway. The kids liked all of them and started on another list of questions for you. Good luck getting rid of us now. 

We were wondering if you could have someone take a picture of you standing in front of your jet. For size comparison purposes. And also because my students would like to know what you look like. Hearing from you makes our day even better.

You couldn't believe how forward you were being with this man who you'd never even met in person, but you fell asleep thinking about his hands and what they might be capable of.

-------------------------

This Bradley makes me swoon. I've never wanted to be a fourth grade teacher so badly in my life. There is something that's starting to blossom between them even though they haven't even met in person. Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 3

@hotch-meeeeeuppppp

@chassy21

@solacestyles

@daisyhollyxox

@wintercap89

@blog-name6996

@bcon24

@chaoticassidy

@avada-kedavra-bitch-187

@katiebby04

@marantha

@averyhotchner

@abaker74

@heli991113

@k-k0129

@noz4a2

@shanimallina87

@little-wiseone

@ccbb2222

@xoxabs88xox

@thedroneranger

@cherrycola27

@fanboyswhore9

@xomrsalliej4787xo

@desert-fern

@sylviebell

@wkndwlff

@horseslovers2016

@gennyanydots

@mattyskies

@hookslove1592

@blahehblah

@sadpetalsstuff

@local-spidey

@schoollover

@lex-winchester

@magicalmorg

@nicole01-23

@jessicab1991

@happyrebelruins

@samsgoddess

@ughthisisntright

@bellaireland1981

@sagittarius-flowerchild

@mygyn

@yuckosworld

#bradley bradshaw x reader #rooster fanfiction #rooster imagine #rooster x reader #rooster x you #bradley rooster bradshaw imagine #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw fanfiction #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw x you #bradley bradshaw x female reader #bradley bradshaw fic #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #top gun imagine #top gun maverick imagine #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick fanfiction #roosterforme #yours truly bradley bradshaw

[sha-n-dowbannedlol]

Miguel O'Hara — Love Sick

a/n: i've been slaving over genetics (and biochemistry) lately, and when i was scrolling on tiktok during my break i saw this one superbat imagine and thought of writing it with my favorite geneticist

cw: uh just fluff ig, miguel o'hara is not good with feelings, miguel o'hara is emotionally constipated

You haven't always had the best of luck in your life.

It wasn't so bad that it made you hit rock bottom, but you've had your fair share of moments where you ended up drawing the shortest end of the stick in the game we all call life.

And as you stare at Peter's hand balled to a fist, and yours with two of your fingers pointed out, his hand forming a rock and yours forming scissors, you quickly conclude that this is one of those moments.

Under normal circumstances, you wouldn't put losing to Peter in rock, paper, and scissors as top 5 of the worst moments of your life; however, this is different. To explain just how different it was, we need to go back to a few minutes ago, the reason why you and Peter had to play in the first place.

Not long ago, you received an alert from the Spider-Man 2099 himself asking for backup. You didn't bother to respond as Jess had already reassured you that she's got him—as it turns out, she, in fact, does not have him when she teleported back with an unconscious Miguel draped over her shoulder.

That, in itself, is already worrying enough. But what worried you more was Lyla's report on your boss' situation, relaying the information to Miguel's inner circle of most trusted Spider-people, including you.

"He's been hit with a love potion, an incredibly potent one at that," Lyla reports, her holographic form adjusting her heart glasses and typing away on her holographic computer. "It hasn't kicked in yet, but it will the moment he wakes up," Lyla adds before looking up from her computer, disappearing and reappearing in the middle of the huddled-up spiders

"And when he does, he'll be head-over-heels in love with the first person he sees," The AI informed them in a serious tone, before grinning like the mischievous rascal she is.

"So... Who will the lucky person be?"

It has been decided amongst your group that whoever loses shall be the unfortunate soul that needs to deal with Miguel's affection until Lyla and the other Spiders have concocted an antidote for everyone's admired boss.

And now, you stare back at your hand, then at Peter's, and back at your own hand again. Silence fills Miguel's spacious office as all eyes land on you, and you can feel your cheeks already starting to warm up.

"Can't we just blindfold him?" You spoke before anyone else could, looking over at the holographic AI, who seemed a bit too pleased with the results. "Or lock him in a room or something?"

"Don't be so barbaric," Peter spoke with amusement in his voice.

"Right. Besides, it can't be that bad!" Lyla spoke, her voice with a hint of something that you can't quite put your finger on. Mischievousness? Teasing? Hinting at something she knows but you don't? You didn't know for sure.

"I think Miguel would prefer being locked in a room than being lovesick for an entire day." You respond with a sigh as Peter practically drags you toward where Miguel is currently lying unconscious, and you have no other choice but to let him.

You were a person of your word. You can't possibly back out now just because you lost.

You tense slightly as your spider sense alerts you that Miguel is starting to wake up, feet glued to the floor when he starts to stir.

"You'll be fine," Jess tried to comfort you with a poorly hidden amused smile on her face, followed by Peter patting your back, and you didn't have to turn around to sense that he'd already whipped his phone out to record the whole scene.

The whole room was tense, or perhaps it was just you. Ice ran through your veins the more Miguel moved, and you could feel everyone's eyes on you as his hand moved to rub one eye before finally, finally.

His eyes flutter open.

Ruby red irises land on your form, and you can see a hint of your reflection from his intense gaze. The first person he saw as he awoke.

He stares at you in silence, gaze glued to yours, raking over your visibly tense form as you stare back at him. His face remains neutral, and you're already bracing yourself for his affection—may it be in the form of verbal affection or physical affection.

Miguel then leans forward to sit, before slowly standing up.

You watch as he takes steps toward you, his hand already rising and about to reach out. Your heart skips a few beats, trying to beat right out of your chest to meet his own halfway.

When he was closer to you, you tense up even more, ready to be pulled into his arms...

Except... he just slipped past you.

The hand he raised earlier ran through his hair, his eyes now on Jess.

"Mission report," Miguel demanded in his usual neutral, gruff tone as everyone looked at him with jaws dropped, all dumbfounded by his casualness.

The drowsiness seems to have left Miguel by then as he looks at everyone. He raises a brow in confusion as he notices everyone's stupified expressions and Peter's phone still pointed at him as if they were expecting something from him.

"What?" He asks, brow still raised.

"That's... This isn't how it's supposed to go!" Peter was the first to speak, begrudgingly putting his phone in his robe's pocket.

"Peter, I'm already not feeling well." Miguel responds, brow scrunched as he turns to face Peter, "I have no time for your antics, and that goes for you, too." He adds, pointing towards you on the last part.

Lyla's hologram hen shows up on Miguel's shoulder, bent over and examining Miguel's face, a hand on her chin as she hums. Her boss raises his brow again at this, trying to shoo her away, only for her to keep insisting.

"You were hit with a love potion, Miguel. Quite a potent one, too." Lyla informs the man who's looking at her with a skeptical look in his eyes as she continues, "I calculated its effects would include being down bad in love with the first person you see when you regain consciousness."

Miguel blinks at that, his eyes landing on you, and you recognize the flicker of understanding in his gaze as he does before looking back to Lyla and to the disappointed Peter and the less-visibly disappointed but still very much disappointed Jess.

"Well, it didn't work." Was his simple response, which caused a groan to resound from Peter and a shake of a head from Jess.

"Come on, not even a bit?" Peter asks, looking at Miguel with narrowed eyes. "Look at them, don't you feel like pulling them into your arms and kissing them until the sun sets?"

"First off, that's highly inappropriate," Miguel responds, his hand coming up to pinch his nose bridge in between his fingers to nurse a headache already starting to come up. He says your name exasperatedly, "Please don't mind him. You know how he is."

Before Peter can voice out the offense he took to Miguel's words, Jess speaks up with curiosity and a hint of suspicion in her voice.

"But how come it didn't work?" Jess asks, her brows furrowing in confusion, looking at Miguel, whose face remained neutral despite her questioning. "Lyla was so sure it affected you, and it affected you enough that you lost consciousness, and suddenly it just... didn't have an effect?"

Miguel clears his throat at that, subtly looking to Lyla to give Jess an explanation that would sate her curiosity and make her suspicions die down, but you suddenly spoke to his rescue.

"Perhaps it has something to do with his DNA?" You infer, humming softly to yourself, "His DNA is different from ours, and most of the time, he's immune to potions and poisons because he isn't human enough to be affected by them. Right?"

Your eyes meet Miguel's as you ask for confirmation, and your breath hitches at the sheer intensity of his gaze as he looks back at you. Still, this wasn't anything new. Miguel can be kind of intense and intimidating, even if he doesn't mean to.

"Pretty much." It was Lyla who confirmed your theory on behalf of Miguel, and before anyone could speak, Miguel swiftly interjected.

"Alright, the show's over." He spoke, looking over at everyone and individually giving instructions in order to get all of you off of his back.

"Jess, I need that report before the end of the day. Peter, weren't you supposed to go home early today? Look after your pregnant wife." Miguel spoke before turning to look at you, "And you, I have a mission for you."

One by one, the three of you leave his office, with you being the last one after he briefs you on the mission with Lyla's assistance. Miguel's eyes were glued to your back as you left, much to your obliviousness.

"It worked, didn't it?" Lyla coos suddenly, snapping Miguel out of his thoughts, making him jump slightly and snap his eyes from your figure and towards his holographic AI.

"What worked?" Miguel tried to feign innocence, looking away from Lyla as he turned toward his many screens.

"The Love Potion. It worked." Lyla continues to tease him, grinning at him knowingly as she lays on her stomach in the air, kicking her feet. "You're just so in love with them already that it didn't make a difference."

Miguel remained silent for a while at her teasing words, but the reddish tint blooming on his tan cheeks was enough of an answer to the AI already. Besides, she's the one subjected to Miguel's eyes, always following you around like a lost puppy whenever you're in the room.

"If you tell anyone, I'm shutting you down."

"No, you're not."

".....No, I'm not."

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel ohara x reader #miguel ohara x you #miguel ohara imagine #miguel ohara #miguel o'hara #spiderman 2099 #spider man: across the spider verse #spider man across the spider verse x reader #atsv miguel #atsv x reader

[yaoyaobae]

Its been awhile and i have another OC to share LOL gotta draw brain rots instead of keeping them in your head forever ☺️💖

Name: Aurore Dormir

School: Royal Sword Academy

Pastime: Escaping school to wander in the nearby forest, spending time alone

Hobbies: Sightseeing, Gardening, Fencing.

Family: Father, Mother , *Brother ( silver, please refer to the last note regarding my own theory)

Aurore is a third year student at RSA, currently house warden of the sleeping beauty inspired dorm.

Aurore is also the next king of the Kingdom of Heroes, which naturally made him the center of attention in RSA.

Unlike Malleus whose powerful aura pushes people away from him, Aurore draws people towards him as they feel a sense of security around him.

He was only recently enrolled into school during his second year as his family brought him back from isolation for training, far away from the world’s eyes.

At first glance, Aurore may seem like the ideal dream prince: Kind, Polite, Courageous, Strong and Smart as he is consistent in securing top grades across his cohort. But deep down, he isn’t exactly the perfect prince most of his peers think he is.

Aurore is actually afraid of strangers and overwhelming attention ( he was raised in isolation so meeting humans are.. yeah) He is skilled at hiding his weakness but starts blanking out if there are too many people crowding around him.

As a result, he finds happiness in spending time alone in places where no one recognises him. He usually takes a short stroll around Sage Island’s various forests when his caretakers aren’t looking.

Strangely, Aurore mentions that his enjoyment from lonely strolls only existed because he would suddenly find himself in unknown places as a child…as if something or someone was calling him. But he became mentally stronger as he got older and knows how to guard himself during his impromptu walks.

Bonus personal theory/lore:

Hi! So if you have been following me since i started creating twst ocs, you would be familiar with a certain comic i drew for an Aurora Oc ( its not exactly Aurore because i didn’t flesh him out) . But to sum up my theory for that comic:

There was once a powerful kingdom that clashed with briar valley, humans and fae did not get along as well back then.

Somewhere in between the war, both of the queen’s sons were cursed by a powerful magician and separated at birth. The queen initially wanted to send her two sons far away from the castle, but only managed to send one tucked away in a casket that drifted on a hidden river which led to a forest.

The war ended a few days later, with both fae and humans forming a truce. The queen fell into depression after realising that her second son probably did not make it and blamed herself for not keeping him a little longer had she known he would have been safe and alive in her arms.

Time heals wounds, and with some reassurance from the King the Queen got back up on her feet stronger for the sake of her people. Of course, sometimes the servants would catch a glimpse of the lonely Queen staring into the far forests wondering if she will ever see those small pair of Aurora coloured eyes again.

Because the Queen conceived her two sons alone away from the servants, only she and the King were aware of their other missing son. The three fairy advisors who had protected them from the very start told the Queen that if word of two cursed princes were to spread, the kingdom would be doomed to fall . The Queen had no choice but to accept this decision, and so they entrusted their only son to the three fairies in case the curse within him acts up. Hence Aurore was raised in isolation away from the world’s attention and only enrolled in his second year to prevent the curse from possibly manifesting.

In this story I created Silver is the missing prince in question who drifted far into the forest and eventually picked up by Lilia. His only proof of his royal status is a ring with an aurora coloured gem (Book 7 mention).

Regarding the curse: Silver was cursed to feel drowsy all the time while Aurore was cursed to follow a voice in his head which leads him to sleepwalk into dangerous places alone. Silver’s hair colour reminds me of the spindle/needle, so in a way he contains the sleeping curse. Like Aurora, Aurore is drawn into strange places by a voice and eventually to the spindle. Hence these two will always feel an unfamiliar sense of closeness to each other.

“Yao why do you think Silver would have a brother? Much less the RSA guy inspired by Aurora? Doesn’t Silver already have Aurora’s traits?”

In general this is just my own fun theory to think about, but my reasons are because i think it would be interesting if Silver canonically had living family member(s) from a royal family( that ring kinda tells all). It would also put him in place wondering if he should return to his biological human family or stay with his Briar Valley family as he feels a stronger bond with them. With the way TWST tackles issues about fae/human like Sebek from example, i would love to see Silver’s resolve for his found family.

In my old comic, the Aurora OC actually dislikes Fae because of the war. He especially hates Lilia because he believed the war criminal took his own brother away and is promoting peace despite his past.

I feel Aurore would dislike Lilia but eventually learns to see the war from both sides as humans aren’t all that great either, he is still a naive prince with much to learn about the world. So while Silver does have Aurora’s trait, Aurore may have some of King Stefan’s from Maleficent/OG film. TWST tends to combine diff character traits anyways🌝👍

Anyways I adore these two so much and am looking forward to Silver’s past in the future updates! Thank you for reading about Aurore, till next time 💖

#twisted wonderland #twst #twst fanart #yaoyao_twstoc #auroredormir #twst silver

[okwonyo]

when your song gets it’s first win.

ᙏ̤̫ ⠀엔하이픈 ♡ female reader & fluff established-confirmed relationship + cw. not-proofread skinship kissing 0.5k | other

heeseung would stress as much as you do.. not for his own song to get this win; but, yours! his heart would beat so fast while he impatiently wait for the results to be shown. the relief on his face would be so obvious when your song’s name is announced to be the winner— he would come to you as every other group is leaving, with his hands up and waiting for you to high-five him. “my song is still better,” he would say, holding your hands in his after they collide.

jay would be your biggest supporter, ever. would even listen to your song on live, fans would even joke around with him on weverse by asking which is his favorite song on your album, to which he would happily answer to! would clap the loudest when your win his announced and a proud smile would draw on his pretty face. might surprise you by coming next to you and pinch your cheeks as a replacement for ‘congratulations’.

jake would be beyond enthusiastic. the thought that his group’s song could win would fill him with unexplainable excitement.. but then, when he realizes that yours could as well! his head would flash to yours in a millisecond after you win, and your eyes would meet as he was the first person you would look at after that announcement. would have a wide and sweet smile as he walks past you, patting your head softly; a ‘well done’ would escape from his mouth.

sunghoon would be a little more discreet in his support— nodding in approval to the host’s winner announcement with a grin on his face. good observers would be able to see the pressure as he holds his hand reliving when you win. his eyes would be lingering on you when he walks past you, eyes growing wide and giving you a cheer sign with his hands when your eyes meet.. like, he would telepathically tell you ‘wohoo!’ kekek

sunoo would have voted for you for sure; but thus, only if you voted for him first and did it next to him so he could see you do so.. would be genuinely happy when you win, though! would know all the songs of the album by heart— therefore, you would make him sing your verse before he leaves the stage. would sing the song shyly and his face would get a tad red.

jungwon would be so, so proud of you; he wouldn’t even care that much about losing against you, because the thought of having a girlfriend as talented as you are would make him terribly glad. i can picture him walking towards you discreetly while you hold the award in your hands. hands surprising you by coming on your hips, would chuckle at your widened eyes when your head snap to his direction.. would just give you a wink and soft smile.

riki would draw himself closer to you so effortlessly, almost as if his hands would be moving on their own. would come to you with such a big smile that it would make you laugh; draping his arm over your shoulder, he would pull you closer and give you a warm side hug before giving you a kiss on the top of your head instinctively. still, he would brag about how you stole his group’s win for the next few days.

this is the first ot7 work in a while :-0 also, it’s very unrealistic but girls just want to have fun huhu >0<

#⠀♡ ꒰˵ˊᯅˋ˵꒱ ⠀ #enhypen #enhypen fluff #enhypen imagines #enhypen drabbles #enhypen scenarios #enhypen reactions #enhypen headcanons #enhypen soft hours #enhypen soft thoughts #enhypen x reader #enha fluff #enha imagines #enha drabbles #enha scenarios #enha reactions #enha headcanons #enha soft hours #enha soft thoughts #enha x reader #heeseung fluff #jay fluff #jongseong fluff #jake fluff #jaeyun fluff #sunghoon fluff #sunoo fluff #jungwon fluff #niki fluff #riki fluff

[lucyandalexiafan]

Could you write something where Alexia is obsessed with the reader boobs please

Movie night | Alexia Putellas x reader

I wrote this few days ago and I find now the time to post it🫠. I don't know if you wanted a more smut work, but the result was something really fluff and cute; I don't know why but it came out so sweet, even though the initial idea was something more sexual. Maybe it's because of all the tweets and TikToks that make me watch thousand times the interview she did for the top 11 and I keep hearing 'thank you' and 'Are you a Manchester City fan', which make her seem so cute; or maybe because I'm feeling so single ahah.

Anyway, I'm sorry if you wanted something more smut and less cute, and thank you for the request!

Do not copy, translate or claim my works and fics as your own; if I find out I will report them and block you. Instead, write to me, my directs are always open, and ask me if you can publish your work/fic inspired by one of mine. However, you can reblog them!

I bite my lip trying to hold back a moan.

Ale's hands on my breasts, her fingers caressing and playing with my nipples.

It had all started very innocently.

Since this morning Ale had been very clingy, very physical.

As soon as the alarm went off she pulled me tighter into her embrace, her hands squeezing my chest, muttering jokingly about how 'I don't love her enough' as I wanted to get up, then kissing my neck just below my hairline every time I stayed a few minutes longer in bed with her.

After almost being arrived late at the training, she tried to be paired with me during both the gym and athletic training, finding every time an excuse to touch me.

Her hands had always been on my thigh, arm or hand at lunch.

It was as if she had an extreme need for physical contact, to touch me, but not necessarily sexually.

On the way home we stopped at the restaurant near our house, my favorite Chinese restaurant, and Ale took there our takeaway dinner that she had ordered while she was waiting for me at the end of the second training session. She composed it with my favorite dishes.

We went into our apartment and had dinner on the sofa laughing in front of a stupid American talk show (even though she seemed to understand one word in ten and only laughed when I laughed).

Once we ended our dinner, Ale asked me to watch a film, one of my favorite dark academia films, and I agreed; so, she helped me to clean the table in front of the sofa and the dishes and we lay down on the sofa.

After a few minutes from the start, she lay between my legs, her head on my chest and her hands at her sides. The position itself wasn't uncomfortable, my back was resting against the couch and my head was on a pillow turned towards the television, my hands caressing her back.

I felt her body relax second by second, the tension from the training slowly flowing out of her body. Every now and then she let out a few moans or gasps, but nothing overly sexual.

About a quarter of the way through the movie, she had moved a little lower, her navel touching my inner thigh, her right temple against my sternum; her hands had started to caress my torso under my shirt, to lightly scratch my hips.

The contact had given me shivers, her cold fingers tracing light circles with her nails.

“I thought you wanted to see the movie amor,” I say, chuckling.

She moans into my chest, her hands gripping the edges of my shirt.

I lift her torso, allowing her to push it over my breasts, braless.

Ale she starts kissing my skin, leaving endless little kisses on my boobs, she draws wet paths that connect one nipple to the other.

Her fingers squeeze my breast in a light grip, playing with my nipples.

"What happened Ale? - she looks at me confused - You are so physical"

"Since when I can be more physical with you? - she asks smiling - I love your boobs so much amor" she says assorted while she squeezes them with her hands.

I gasp, seeking contact with her, and grip her hair between my fingers.

My neck arches back when she bites my right nipple.

She grins against my sternum.

She runs her nipples between her fingers.

"Your boobs are so sensitive - she gasps and then kisses a nipple - That's one of the reasons why I love them… I just need to touch your nipples and you're soaked for me" she whispers absorbedly while she kisses them.

"Only for you, amor - I moan - only for you"

Ale smiles satisfied.

She bends down and kisses a patch of skin just below her nipple. She sucks it, leaving a clear purple mark on me, releasing it with a dull sound.

"When you're really horny you can have an orgasm just by me playing with your nipples - she bites my right one, passing it between her teeth and making me moan- It's never happened to me before, but it's so… so-"

I gasp when her fingers squeeze a nipple tighter, too tight.

My hand shoots out and grabs her wrist, not knowing if I want to stop her or ask her to do it again. Ale bends down to kiss the fingers surrounding her wrist, leaving small sweet kisses on my skin while she whispers to me that she's sorry.

I arch my back towards her asking her to touch me, to keep touching me.

“They're so soft – she whispers as she leaves a hickey on my other tit – and just the right size for my hands.”

I bite her lip looking at her.

She raises an eyebrow.

"Are you saying they are big? - She looks at me confused - Alexia, I've never had a girlfriend with bigger hands and longer fingers than yours"

She opens her mouth wide in offense, her eyebrows raised dangerously, while the sides of her mouth turn up in a smile.

Then, suddenly, she lowers herself towards my breast, biting it.

I groan in surprise.

It's not a painful bite, but it will leave a mark.

She smiles satisfied as she watches it.

"Looking at how you ask me to fuck you with my long fingers I wouldn't say it bothers you" she replies in a mock offended tone.

The tongue touching the edges of the bite.

I turn my head towards the couch, trying to avoid her gaze, my embarrassment clear from the color of my cheeks.

"Ale…" I gasp, not knowing exactly what he wants.

"Keep watching the movie, amor" she tells me, her voice betraying a trace of excitement, before resting her head on my sternum.

Her hand continues to play with my breast, the one towards the television, playing with the nipple, running it between his fingers, pulling it towards her.

#woso #woso fanfics #woso x reader #alexia putellas fanfics #alexia putellas imagine #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas #cute alexia putellas

[bingwriterxo]

a clingy drunk

pairing: amber freeman x reader

summary: in which you get a little too drunk at one of amber's parties

warnings: implications of sex, mentions of alcohol poisoning

word count: 1900+

author's note: this was a request (find here!) hope yall enjoy :D

“So, is tonight just the group or is it the whole school?” you asked, your eyes trained on your own reflection as you tried to do your hair in the style that always drove Amber wild. You glanced behind you in the mirror, catching sight of your girlfriend as she looked through her closet for something to wear.

“The whole school,” Amber answered, pulling a cropped shirt from its hanger and holding it up for you to see. “Thoughts?”

You gulped, nodding quickly. “Definitely. Wear it with those low-waisted jeans you got the other day.”

She hummed as she crossed the room, shirt in hand, and leaned down, her chin resting on your shoulder. Her eyes locked with yours in the mirror, and she asked, “Making yourself all pretty for me?”

You shivered at her words, her warm breath fanning against your cheek. “Yeah, Ambs,” you agreed, turning your head to peck her on the cheek. “All pretty for you.”

Amber grinned, leaning in to kiss you. “My pretty girl,” she mumbled against your lips, and butterflies circled your stomach, making you beam with joy. She stood and left your side, going to dig through her dresser for the pants that you had mentioned earlier. 

You carried on with styling your hair, humming along to the quiet music that was playing in the room. You loved when things were like this--both of you existing in the same space yet doing your own things; it was pure domesticity.

Amber’s voice cut through your concentration, drawing your eyes back to her through the mirror. “Baby?” she began, her voice soft and lulling. You swore up and down that you could fall asleep to it. 

“Yeah?” 

“Try not to drink too much tonight, alright? I don’t want to have to call the ambulance again.”

You shuddered at the memory of what had happened at Amber’s last party nearly a month prior. Chad and Mindy had egged you into trying your first keg stand, and, upon successfully completing it, they decided to celebrate by feeding you shot after shot of tequila. Needless to say, the night had ended with you being rolled out on a stretcher, Amber following behind with wide, worried eyes, and having your stomach pumped. 

“I definitely won’t be drinking that much tonight,” you promised. “You don’t have to worry about me.”

She smiled, and your heart fluttered at the sight. “Good.” She pulled the jeans from her drawer, a mischievous smirk on her lips and a familiar spark in her eyes. “Wanna help me get changed?”

You leapt from your seat and rushed toward her, giggling the whole time. 

* * *

For a good hour, you kept your promise to Amber. While people were still filing into her house, you simply wandered around, offering half-assed greetings to your peers and sipping at your beer; every so often, you’d pester your girlfriend for her phone so that you could change the song, or you’d just walk right up to her and plant a kiss on her lips--she never complained about either. 

However, when your friends arrived, your night was quickly turned around.

“Y/N! My favorite girl!” Chad cheered as he walked through the front door, a six-pack of beer dangling from his fingertips. He pulled you into a tight hug, ignoring as you deftly swiped a drink from the case. “How you doing tonight? You ready to get fucked up?!”

“Not too fucked up, Chad,” Mindy interjected as she sidled up beside him, grinning at you. “Can’t have you in the hospital again, can we? Took me days to get that smoothie out of my hair.”

Unfortunately for the twins, at school the day after your little…incident, Amber had taken it upon herself to avenge you, resulting in both Meeks-Martin kids going home early with smoothie dripping from the tops of their heads.

“Definitely ready to get mildly fucked up,” you said, laughing.

Chad frowned. “We can do better than mildly.”

You looked around, making sure Amber wasn’t within earshot, and said, “As long as Ambs isn’t watching, then I’m all in.”

It didn’t take much time for the twins to get you more than mildly drunk. Within half an hour, you were slurring your words and swaying where you stood, your cheeks flushed a bright red and your eyelids drooping. 

“Oh, we’re fucked,” Mindy stated when she realized just how intoxicated you were, her eyes flitting from person to person to see if your girlfriend was anywhere in sight. 

Chad shook his head, taking a sip from his beer. “We’re only fucked if Amber notices,” he said.

“Amber!” you gasped suddenly, your eyes going wide at the mention of your girlfriend. You whipped your head around, stumbling backward and into Mindy’s arms at the force, searching for the raven-haired girl. “Where is she?”

“Uh, I’m not too sure,” Mindy said, glancing at her brother. “Do you need her?”

You twisted around and nodded furiously at Mindy, your face taking on the most serious expression she had ever seen. “Yes. Need her now.”

Chad furrowed his eyebrows, placing his drink down on the nearest surface he could reach. He put his hands on your shoulders, forcing you to face him. “And why do you need Amber?” he asked.

You sighed dreamily, pulse speeding up at the thought of the girl. “‘Cause I love her,” you slurred. “Love her so much. Just want to squeeze her little cheeks.” You mimicked the action with your hands, scrunching your face up as you did. 

Mindy chuckled. “As if Amber would let you squeeze her cheeks.”

“Oh, she does,” you said, your voice convincing. “All the time. She likes it.”

“Are we talking about the same Amber?”

“Why would I want to squeeze a different Amber’s cheeks?” you asked, dead serious, and Chad barked out a laugh. You looked at him, confusion painted on your face. “I only love my Amber. I promise.”

“Oh, I know, champ.” He patted you on the top of your head. “Everyone knows. But, right now, you can’t have Amber because--”

“Because what?” Amber asked, and you squealed at the sight of her standing behind Mindy. You pushed yourself out of Chad’s grip and hurried toward her, immediately wrapping your arms around her waist and burying your face into her neck. She was left a little disoriented but no less loving as she quickly hugged you back.

“Baby!” you exclaimed, and she flinched back at your voice so loud in her ear.

“Hi, pretty girl,” she cooed quietly, running her fingers through your hair before settling her sight on the twins. “Why is she so…excited?”

“She’s a little drunk,” Mindy said. 

Amber’s eyes narrowed. “How much is ‘a little,’ Mindy?”

“Four beers and three shots,” Chad offered, cringing when Amber’s jaw clenched. 

“I thought I told you guys not to let her drink that much tonight!” Amber chided, her hold on you tightening. You nuzzled further into her. “You remember what happened last time, don’t you?” There was a threat in her voice as she spoke, her tone sharp and demanding, and both twins squirmed beneath her glare.

“She’s fine, Freeman. She’s just…really set on being with you right now, that’s all,” Mindy told the other girl. 

Chad nodded. “Yeah. She’s at about that point in the night where if you leave her alone, she might cry.”

Amber sighed and glanced down at you. “Guess I just won’t leave her alone, then.” She looked back at the twins. “At least, not with you two. Don’t you dare give her another drink tonight. Or else.”

Both twins raised their arms in surrender, taking a few steps back as Amber nodded, satisfied with their reaction. 

“Come on, baby,” Amber said to you. “Let’s go find Tara because I need to get more drinks from the basement.”

Almost immediately, you hugged her tighter, shaking your head. “No,” you whined, and Amber couldn’t help but think it was cute how determined you were to stay with her. She grinned as you emphasized the thought. “Only wanna be with you.”

You looked up, smiling at your girlfriend. You kissed her before raising an arm to squeeze her cheek. She blushed at the action, shooting a deathly glare toward her friends as you cooed like she was a puppy. 

“You’re the cutest person ever,” you said. “I just wanna be with you forever and ever and ever.”

She blushed even harder. “I love you, too, baby,” she said in response, because she’d have rather died than say something so cheesy where Mindy could hear her. “Now, can we please go find Tara so she can watch you while I run to the basement?”

Your face soured. “Depends. How long will you be?”

“Not even a minute.”

You furrowed your eyebrows, stuck in deep thought, and finally decided, “Okay. Fine. But can we cuddle after?”

Mindy tilted her head behind you, mouthing ‘Yeah, Amber. Can we cuddle?’ with a sly smirk. Amber had never been so tempted to tackle her to the ground. 

Through gritted teeth, she said, “Of course,” even though, in reality, she would have loved nothing more, but, again, she couldn’t let Mindy know that. 

“Yay!” you cheered, unraveling yourself from Amber. You intertwined your fingers with hers and let her pull you through the crowds in search for her brunette best friend, her thumb rubbing along the skin of your hand comfortingly as she did. 

It took a few minutes before you finally found Tara. She was sitting on the couch, a drink in her hand as she talked to Wes. Her head tilted when her eyes landed on you and Amber, lips quirking into a smile at your clearly drunk state.

“Did Chad and Mindy get to her?” she asked Amber, who nodded with a huff.

“Unfortunately,” Amber drawled. “Could you keep an eye on her? We’re out of beer. I need to grab more from the fridge downstairs.”

You frowned, like you had forgotten all about the fact that Amber needed to get more drinks. “Can’t I come with you?” you asked hopefully.

“I don’t think you could make it down the stairs like this, baby. Just stay here with Tara and Wes, okay?” She kissed you quickly before pulling away. When your frown deepened, she added "I'll be two seconds."

“Okay,” you grumbled, throwing yourself onto the couch between your friends and watching as your girlfriend disappeared in the direction of the basement.

“So, having a good night so far, Y/N?” Tara asked. 

You sighed, crossing your arms. “Guess so.”

“You don’t sound too happy,” Wes pointed out.

“I miss Amber,” you huffed. 

Tara chuckled. “She’ll be back soon. You’re a clingy drunk, huh?”

“No,” you denied, even though it was obviously the truth. “Just like being around Ambs. She’s so pretty, and cute, and she always makes me laugh, and she’s a really good kis--”

Amber appeared in front of you, a grin on her face, and you cut yourself off, hopping off the couch and right back into her arms. 

“You’re back!” you exclaimed.

She laughed. “I told you I wouldn’t be long.”

You pressed a kiss to the side of her jaw. “Can we go upstairs and cuddle?” you murmured, and Amber nearly melted. 

“Sure, baby. C’mon.” She started to walk away, you close behind, before she stopped and looked back at Tara. “Just…kick people out when it gets late, okay? I probably won’t be back down.”

Tara grinned at her. “Have fun, kids.”

Amber rolled her eyes and started leading you toward the stairs, trying to calm the fluttering of her heart as you chanted, “Cuddles! Cuddles! Cuddles!”

#amber freeman x reader #amber freeman #amber x reader #mikey madison x reader #mikey madison #scream 5

[vintagehellfire]

Danse Macabre | E.M x Reader

summary: Your best friend invites you to a concert that you're less than keen on but you get much more devil worship than you bargained for.

warnings: porn without plot, plot? What plot?, choking, nipple play, blood play, bruising, oral (m receiving), sacrilege, bdsm, dom sub dynamics, just really stupid horny honestly. Eyefucking, teasing, edging???? Spit kink, mask kink, devil worship. This is just pure filth honestly, piv, unprotected sex (don’t do this with strangers ya’ll pls I’m begging) mdni 18+

word count: 8.6k

Thank you to @the-unforgivenn for beta reading this pure filth for me and for correcting my atrocious keystroke mistakes. I love you so much babe.

part two

How you got dragged to some sort of musical satanic ritual by your best friend Lilly was far beyond you. The heavy instrumentals contrasted too harshly with the light and theatrical vocals. If looks could kill, Lilly would be dead. This wasn’t your scene, it never would be, it’s what you told yourself. Sipping your gin, arms crossed, you scrunch your face, the bartender having been too busy staring at your chest while he poured your drink, resulting in a rather disgusting concoction. As if the night couldn’t get any worse. 

One of the lighter intro songs came to an end before the pyrotechnics roared to life next to you, one of the guitarists emerged from behind the waft of smoke. It was then that your breath caught in your throat, the way that he played had you hypnotised, placing you in a trance so deep that you couldn’t tear your eyes from him even if you wanted to, veins protruding. Your eyes trailed over his body, tight jeans fitting to his body and a uniform dress shirt adorning his torso, long sleeves and turtleneck underneath, hiding any soft skin. As you would be met with a face, you were surprised to find that you were met with a helmet of sorts, breathing tubes and other such accessories adorning it, as well as sticking out the top. His eyes burned red like embers behind the wide goggles, a darkness swallowing the man behind the mask and drawing you in. Curiosity got the better of you, you watched closely  when he stomped to the beat of the songs. he fans collectively let out a wave of screams, throwing flowers on stage. You rolled your eyes so hard they probably should have rolled out of your head. Were you attracted to the masked musician? In some capacity sure, but wholly? No. They just… they knew how to play well and those hands… you could admit those hands were something. You shook your head to rid yourself of impure thoughts, it wasn’t like you liked the music anyway. 

Your face was stone cold and your arms were crossed over your chest unhappily, cleavage pushed up, and the leather of your jacket creaking. That was the thing about you, you’d rather die than remove your prized biker jacket. It was your battle armour, much like the guitarists get up seemed to be the band’s uniform. To them, it protected their identity, and it protected you – you wouldn’t be caught off guard, you wouldn’t be vulnerable, you couldn’t. Your icy stare pierced through the smoke, through the flames, as you focused your gaze on the guitarist in front of you. His white guitar distinguished  him from everyone else just as your expression did you –perfectly sour.

The crowd behind you chanted along to the songs, screaming about Lucifer and the congregation and whatever other shit you chose to ignore in favour of your best friend. Lilly was one of them, jumping up and down, chanting every word of the hymns the lead singer belted out to the tune of the strong bass line and the chugging of guitars. As much as you wanted her to have fun, you rolled your eyes, this wasn’t your scene. Every song that started out heavy led to a disappointment with the vocals or the rock opera and so you just opted to be the designated party pooper and give your best glare towards the lead guitarist who seemed all too interested in your corner of the stage. He wailed on his guitar harder than you’d seen anyone wail on one before, a flash of worry briefly crossing your mind but you quickly pushed it down. 

The masked man played through his songs flawlessly, fingers moving expertly across the fretboard, mind and body completely in tandem; however your pout, your knit eyebrows, and crossed arms caught his eye, he’d stare back at you through his tinted goggles, smiling softly to himself at how adorable you looked when you were so grumpy. He could tell this wasn’t your scene and so during the slow and long intro to a song he walked over to the very front, standing just a few feet above you.  He tilted his head to the side, his mask listing as he stared, playing the intro as his eyes never left yours. 

The small movement caught your attention, eyebrows furrowing in confusion as you felt like the glowing embers behind the goggles were burning into your very soul, dissecting every little secret. He slowly points to himself before he gets his queue to jump into his next riffs, stomping away as he pushed through the heavy chords that thundered through the concert hall. You dared not admit it to yourself, but something inside you snapped, a warmth starting to spread between your legs. No, no you couldn’t possibly be attracted to this, right? But just as that thought entered your mind, it shot out of your head and straight to your heart when you saw the man before you strut over to his bandmate. The two bent over backwards together, the taller of the two supporting the back of the man with the white guitar. A cute moment, or so you thought, but as soon as the shorter was up for his solo, the taller wrapped an arm around him and pawed at his cock, tugging him into his muscled body, catching the one you had your eye on off guard. He rocked his hips into the other and rested his masked head on the shorter shoulder, fake panting. He did not falter however, and that had your brain reeling. 

With a small smack on the ass, the taller let him go, strutting away as the crowd erupted in ear shattering screeches, and if what had just transpired wasn’t one of the hottest things you’d seen, you would have absolutely rolled your eyes, but instead it had you shifting in your place, all too keenly aware of the small flare of heat that lapped at you and the proximity of the other bodies surrounding you. You suddenly felt small, trapped; and you wanted nothing more than to run out and dunk your head under some ice cold water. What was wrong with you? Your eyes darted from side to side, hoping your best friend Lilly wouldn’t notice. 

What went on next was just about to make anyone lose their minds, the lead guitarist started to throw guitar picks into the crowd, plucking one last one from his guitar and marching over to directly in front of you. The song they played next was clearly well known but it was only vaguely familiar to you, it was one you would listen to ironically while doing the dishes, one that you didn’t care much for, but was catchy nonetheless. What you didn’t realise was just how suggestive the lyrics were – and so when the man with the white guitar stood in front of you, spreading his legs to put himself in a more comfortable playing stance you thought nothing about it but his next motions had your panties soaking themselves in your slick. A long and crooked finger pointed to himself quickly, then he went back to wailing on his precious guitar just before giving himself a window of about a second to stop, his ring and middle finger very rapidly turned upwards, flicking rapidly as if motioning fingering you, his goggles deadlocked on your eyes. You could tell he was watching you for a reaction, and how you knew you wouldn’t be able to tell. Christ, maybe you should have listened to Lilly when she was telling you this band was horny. Truthfully, you had shrugged it off, what, some singer in a pope mask acting all horny? That didn’t exactly get your rocks off, but the moment you laid eyes on the masked men playing their instruments, all rational thought flew out the window. 

Little did you know that the guitarist did have his eyes set on you, all queues already learned, his body moving on auto pilot, his performance was deliberately exaggerated just for you, his motions tailored to get you hot and bothered. He knew he played the best role, and as the show went on, with the lack of water, and the horrid head, he knew his veins were pronouncing themselves even more, fingers sliding around, fingering the fretboard with an expert speed. Every nook, cranny, and metal notch memorised by the calluses on the pads of his fingers, like an old lover he’d always know how to please. He would pride himself on it, on his accuracy, and he was thankful, oh so thankful, that his death metal band had allowed him the dexterity to pull something such as this off. 

Your eyes couldn’t tear themselves away from his figure, stalking his every move like a predator with their prey, A game of cat and mouse you both played with each other from the stage and the crowd. At this point, all shame was thrown out the window and you were openly eye fucking him, blood boiling in your veins and mouth starting to run a little dry. 

The final nail in the coffin was during their heaviest song during the show, a calm moment before the storm, before the stadium exploded in a downpour of black and white paper confetti. Your eyes fixated on the man before you as the song slows to a steady chug, breathy whispers sung into the microphones. It made your head spin as you were trying to compose yourself, breath hitching as the object of your lustful affection met your gaze. His black inky goggles bored you as he brought a shaky hand up, his other hand chugging the low E of his guitar. You were transfixed by the man, unable to peel your eyes from him as he slowly and seductively licked his hand, tongue expertly flicking between his fingers, his shaky breaths becoming ragged and exaggerated. Pressing his hand to his chest, he threw his head back in a moan, sliding his elegant fingers down the front of his uniform until it was level with his guitar, and exactly in time with his strumming, he fisted his hand and with a teasing motion he tugged at the air. Your mouth ran completely dry as you registered that he was feigning masturbation in front of thousands of people. He had you caught in a trance, hypnotised by his agonising motions, his eyes seemingly staring into your very soul, picking apart every last bit of you - he saw the scars inside and your desires all rolled into one. As his actions picked up, one hand still busy on his guitar, you let out a choked breath, transfixed by the man, ghoul, whatever he was, before you. He commanded all your attention, causing your mouth to run completely dry but it couldn’t have prepared you for his “release”--  letting go the moment the confetti cannon exploded. Your jaw slacked, a strangled moan flying from your mouth as you clenched your thighs together, mouth slightly agape. 

The guitarist knew he had you in a chokehold at that very moment, smirking from underneath his coverings. Flawlessly he jumped back into the song and turned away from you, the game of cat and mouse had become too much, too real. It had only taken him an hour and a half to break you down, but once he did he felt a satisfaction he couldn’t explain, and of course he would try to hide it as he continued to strut across the stage as if he owned it. The reality was that he didn’t want to give away just the way this little game had affected him as well, an undeniable strain in his lower half. If his bandmates had noticed, they had clearly made it their mission to torture him, the rhythm guitarist getting on his knees in front of him during a solo, fucking into his own guitar as he pressed his head to the lead guitarists thigh. It wasn’t until the lead placed a boot on his shoulder to push away from him that the one on his knees relented, the crowd exploding in a rain of screams, and yet all you heard was the rush of blood in your ears. You resigned, the game had been won.

As you tried to catch your breath, you looked over to Lilly, thanking Satan that she hadn’t noticed your turmoil. The rest of the show had you holding your breath, knowing that the masked musician had made it his mission to play games with you.  the show ended, you were relieved, you might have a moment yet to go home and get yourself off, forgetting the whole of the events that transpired. 

“Come on, let’s get out of here and to the merch table before it gets too crowded!” Lilly cheered, sticking her handout for you to take, but as soon as she looked over your face her eyes drained of excitement. “Oh, are you okay? You look a little pale,” she noted, tilting her head to the side. 

“Y-yeah, I,” You cleared your throat, “I’m fine, just feeling a little warm. I think I might head home but you go grab some merch. I’ll text you,” you lied cooly. You didn’t want her to know the profound effect that the lead guitarist had on you. With a nod she gave your shoulder a squeeze and darted off. 

You could finally breathe, the suffocation that gripped at your throat just moments earlier had slightly dissipated. As dirty as your thoughts were at the moment, it was in your best interest to get moving, and so, as if on autopilot, you let your feet carry you as far from the stage as possible. You slipped past the crowd, weaving in and around groups of friends, teenagers reeling about the show, displeased parents. You wanted to beeline it out of there before anyone noticed you but unfortunately your plan was short lived as you felt a pair of arms wrap around your waist and tug you behind a closed door. 

Your brain ran at a mile a minute, trying to figure out whether it was cause for alarm, but as your back collided with the wall behind you, you were met with the masked ghoul from the stage pressing his knee between your legs, pinning you in place. All colour drained from your face as your breathing laboured. There wasn’t any fear in your body, not any longer, and if there had been any,it had been replaced with undeniable arousal, heat being sent straight to your core. It took all your willpower not to grind into his thigh.

“Hey, sweetheart.” The husky voice purred, a small accent peaking through. He smelled intoxicating, like amber and cigarettes, a tinge of iron poking through in the softest of undertones. It drove you crazy, mind spinning, dizzy with want. He cocks his head to the side, his nautical mask tilting, the black goggles seemingly bottomless, swallowing his eyes. The musician’s expression is completely unreadable and if you knew any better you’d say it was like a predator who had caught his prey. Your mistake was thinking the little game you both played was over, yet now it seems like it had just begun. The man leans into you, invading your space completely, his covered mouth coming up beside your ear. “Oh you thought our little game was over, didn’t you?” He pulls back, allowing your caged body some space. “Don’t think I didn’t see you, little one.” His sweet voice purrs, setting you over the edge, hips finally pushing into his leg as your head tilts back, smacking softly into the wall.

“Fuck…” The syllable leaves your mouth as a groan before you can do anything about it. Surely you were dreaming this, but when you opened your eyes, you were met with the same mask, the same expression that stared at you from the stage. 

“If that’s what you want, sweetheart, I’ll have to bring you to the green room. We’ll paint it red in sin .” You swore you could hear him wink from behind his coverings but you didn’t care, satan, you didn’t care as long as you could have him. You’d worship him in uniform, all sweat slicked and bloody if you had to. In this moment you had a one track mind and you’d be damned if you didn’t act on your desires… but maybe having these desires meant that you were already damned. “What, not as bold anymore? Devil got your tongue?” He mused. 

“Are you going to run your mouth or are you going to fuck me?” You spit out at him, a feigned venom behind your words, but they were too lust drenched to be taken harshly. In an instant his body was against yours, thigh pressing into your cunt, slowly rubbing back and forth.

“Earn it.” He growled out, face burying itself into the crook of your neck to pepper both kisses and love bites across your jugular. Your body caught fire, desperate to be taken by the mysterious man then and there. You hadn’t seen his face and you were mildly worried that seeing it would ruin the illusion. Would you even find him attractive under all his coverings? You didn’t have time to think about it before his hands came to the meat of your ass, tugging you against him with a burning desire, fire coursing through his veins. The strangled moan that ripped from your throat was one you weren’t expecting, but did it ever feel right, his strained cock digging into your hips as he pushed your body closer to his. You could tell he was well endowed even through the fabric of his trousers, a heat creeping up your neck at this realisation. 

“Don’t tease.” You spat, hands coming up to grip his slightly torn jacket, his arm coverings hiding any identifiers. You were going off of nothing aside from the little fire element pin that was securely pinned to the lapel of his uniform. Your hands found themselves tugging him forward, daring him to kiss you. 

“Don’t be a brat.” The stranger growled, swiftly lowering the cloth covering his mouth before assaulting your lips with his. It was all teeth and tongues, pure lust taking over every one of your senses, and it seemed to be true for him as well. You kissed back furiously, nipping at his bottom lip, eliciting a gasp from him that would turn into a groan as you rolled your hips against his, begging for some relief. “Easy, pet.” He muttered against the plushness of your mouth, a small tender moment slipping through the cracks. As much as you enjoy rough, there was a certain swell that filled your heart in knowing that he wouldn’t push too far. 

Your escapades were all tongue, teeth, and lips, strangled moans, and tugging at each other’s clothes until you both reached the green room wherethe band was supposed to be, however, your mystery man had ensured to clear it before he went out to find you. The only time either one of you broke from one another was for air or to push the door closed, locking it in the process. Both of you were too impatient, a carnal desire for one another pooling into your veins, fire spreading through you both and kindling in that very low spot in your abdomens.

“If you need me to stop, the safe word is Beelzebub.” The man’s husky voice cut through the groans, tugging your hips forward into his by the belt loops. He gave you a moment to process what he had said, but instead you grabbed onto his mask and tugged his head forward, lapping at his bottom lip in order to gain access to his mouth. As soon as he parted his lips, you were welcomed by his tongue dancing in tandem with yours. He tasted of wintergreen and cigarette smoke, a combination so sinful, so depraved that you should have been turned off, instead it flooded you with desire. 

“Need you.” You panted out between kisses, the man unrelenting his assault on your mouth. You were utterly soaked through, and you were certain that the musician could smell you but you didn’t care, not right now anyway. You should have been embarrassed by being taken like this but it just turned you on even more knowing that maybe you would get to live out your newly discovered kink instead of trying to soothe — or smother — the flames by yourself. 

“Do you need me?” The man mused. “Mmm, prove it to me, my little devil.” His hand crept from your waist down to your hips, and from your hips down to between your legs, agonizingly circling your cunt, thumb pressing into the seam of your jeans in the exact spot your clit would be in. “Show me how needy you are for me… Go on…” His husky voice teased. When you didn’t react he spun you so your back would be to him, a strong arm holding you against his body while the other busied himself with teasing you. His breath was by your ear now, and his cock pressed into your ass. He was so worked up that he began to rut his hips forward, moaning at the friction. His moan elicited a reaction in you, causing you to throw your head back onto his shoulder, mouth falling open. The tassels on his overcoat swayed with each rut of his hips, tickling the side of your face. You couldn’t imagine he wasn’t warm in his get up but you were too occupied to do anything about it. 

“Please, fuck, I need you.” You choked out, eyes screwed shut as he teased. You felt him lick a stripe up your neck before nipping just underneath your ear as a small warning before latching his lips to the sensitive spot, sucking a dark bruise into your skin. The sickening combination of his lips on your neck, his hard on rubbing against your ass, and his fingers teasing your clothed cunt was becoming too much, driving your senses crazy. A low growl emanated from deep within his chest, reverberating across your back from the proximity.

“Then get down on your knees….” He spins you around, voice low and husky as he shoves you down, a mix of fear and burning desire settling in the deepest pits of your stomach. Your knees hit the ground with a thud and you’d be sure to bruise later, but that was a small price to pay. You watched him undo his belt and pull his zipper down before bringing his hand back up to his face, licking it slowly like he had during the show. You knew what was coming but what you didn’t expect was him to give you one last order as he spidered his fingers down the ruffled fabric of his shirt. “And pray.” An animalistic snarl came from beyond the mask as his fingers trailed into his boxers this time. The man tugged his cock out and began to stroke himself, chest heaving, his breathing became laboured. 

“Oh, god.” You uttered, but the musician didn’t seem to like that. He let go of his cock, allowing it to bounce against his stomach, a stark contrast with his black attire. It looked delicious with the little opalescent bead of precum nestled on the very tip. 

“No, my pet,” he purred, his thumb coming to your lips, slipping past them and into your mouth. It tasted of brass and sweat yet you opted to hollow your cheeks around it anyway, “you answer to our savior, satanus here. You are no longer in the house of god.” There was a cruelty behind his voice, corruption on his tongue. You would have thought the theatrics would have instantly had you shoving him away, but instead it left you craving the masked man, mouth salivating at the thought of him completely ruining you. 

Without much warning, he tapped his cock on your lips, his precum smudging across your lips, and satanus, was it going to be his death. Your dark smudge of red lipstick would become ruins in the wake, the thought of a red ring around his member had his brain short circuiting, if you didn’t take him in your mouth soon he was going to lose it. Luckily you complied, opening wide to accommodate his size, letting your tongue lap at his tip as he slid in. He started slowly, almost carefully in order not to hurt you but soon enough you pushed his cock to the back of your throat, eliciting a strangled moan from him. His hands flew to your hair, desperate to hold onto something, anything, and he tugged you forward, pulling a moan from the very back of your throat. You pulled back, saliva building up in your mouth mixing with the salty taste of his seed.It wasn’t something you expected to like but you found yourself chasing it, craving more. 

Your head bobbed over his length, your moans muffled as you tried to take him deeper, his tip brushing the back of your throat. His delicate resolve broke then and there, slamming into you at a frantic pace. He chased his high, immense pleasure searing through his veins as he fucked into your mouth like an animal, all sense of self control was gone. You looked up at him through your eyelashes, giving him the most innocent look you could muster as you flicked your tongue over his tip, lapping at his slit. Agonisingly you pulled back, employing the aid of your hand around his length, taking only part of him in your mouth. You jacked him off as you hollowed your cheeks around his tip, tongue expertly flicking over his frenulum and eliciting the most pornographic moan from him.

“Satanus, save me.” The man hissed from above you, pulling on your hair to draw you closer. He was losing control, babbling about how pretty you looked on your knees for him. “You are so exquisitely sinful, my pet.” His chest heaved with every breath he took, fingers tangling themselves further into your head of hair, fingernails practically at your scalp. 

You take the praise and you run with it, taking it as a signal to keep going, and this time you move your free hand up his leg, rubbing over his thigh as a tease, a preamble to what you were going to do next. You took his groan as a confirmation to continue, his breaths coaxing you to keep going. You slid your hand up, opting to rub his thigh teasingly, savouring the feeling of the looser material under your fingertips, toying with it before you continued your journey up. While your mouth and right hand busied themselves with his thick cock, your left hand came up to fondle his heavy balls. Who knew that praying to a false idol could be so pleasurable. 

“Oh, oh, f-fuck.” The taller threw his head back, voice gruff and fucked out, clearly enjoying this more than he should have been. He was rapidly losing any grip on the situation and he needed to extract himself from it unless he wanted to spill into your mouth. It was his nightmare, his most sinful fantasy, having you like this after the show – a stranger, a person in the crowd. The amount of people that would absolutely kill to be in your position and it was likely that you weren’t appreciating it as you should have been. The man keened before tugging you back harshly, his hips stuttering at the sudden loss of contact from your mouth. “If you keep going like that, I’m going to cum down your throat, sweetheart.” There was a certain level of concern laced into his tone, one that you glossed over through your lust. 

“Holy shit…” You breathe out, pupils completely blown, the colours of your irises practically disappearing due to how clouded your mind was with him, only him, nothing but him, and how divine his cock was. At your words, something inside him snaps and he grabs your throat, pulling you up. You could feel yourself growing more aroused by the minute. How he had guessed that you’d be into choking was beyond you, but fuck was this doing things to you that you hadn’t even thought possible. 

“There is nothing Holy here.” He growled out, a darkness overtaking his voice. His words sent a cold shiver down your spine, one that found itself shooting down towards your core, causing you to press to him. The ember glow from behind his goggles scanned over your face, flickering, igniting a fire in the bits of your belly. “Here we succumb to our lust.” He breathes before letting your neck go only to bring his hand down to your chest and massage your breast, pinching gently through the fabric of your tank top. In an instant, his mouth attacked your neck savagely, teeth nipping at the thin skin, tongue flicking over the bites to soothe them. You tilt your head back to accommodate him, your breathy moans coming up right beside his ear as you rut into him. You’re desperate to be fucked at this point, needing him more than you need to breathe. 

He pierced your skin with his canines, an animalistic desire for you taking over him. He could no longer think, all consumed by his desires. You felt his lips trail down, soft as a butterfly’s wings, stopping at your jugular vein before he bit down, causing you to let out a yelp. Your cry of pain turned into a pornographic moan as he sucked and lapped at your salty skin, a small sheen of sweat starting to gloss over you as you burned up. If this was what being in hell was like, you’d have a hard time coming up with reasons to wind up in heaven. Your torture didn’t end there; however, as he snaked his free hand up to your cheek, holding you in place tenderly as he continued his assault on your neck. He made it his mission to mark you up as his but you were too far gone to care. 

“Oh Christ.” You moaned as he lapped at the bite marks he left, but he didn’t seem to like this. Not that you could see this much, but his eyes turned dark as he trailed his lips farther down, burying his face in the crook of your neck before he bit down hard enough to draw blood. Your pain was immediately covered in a strangled cry of pure ecstasy as he tugged you towards him, his hand on your breast moving to your hip, surely bruising it, fingerprint embedded in the skin of your hip bone. 

The taste of iron filled the musician’s mouth, his hard on reacting to your metallic taste, pressing into your hip involuntarily. He couldn’t get enough of you - the intoxicating smell of amber and palo santo mixed with the salt from sweat, and the citrus of the gin… He wanted to ruin you once and for all. 

“No, my pet, you are not in the house of God. Only the devil resides here. Will I need to have you pray to me again?” The growl that ripped from his throat has you soaking your lace panties, a choked sob escaping from your parted lips. As he took you in, he noted that you already looked completely fucked out, the bruising on your neck blooming like deep red roses, a symbol of both love and devotion. The only thing you could do was shake your head in answer to him. “Mmm,” the stranger hummed, “your body and blood are mine, sweetheart.” He teased you. As your chest heaved, you examined him, traces of your blood down his chin, and some smeared across his mask, his lips were swollen from the harsh and animalistic kisses he was giving you, and satanus were you ever attracted to him in this moment. 

“Please… Can I see you?” You plead, your hands coming to his waist, trailing down slowly, your right hand making contact with his cock. The soft cant of his hips encouraged you to grip it gently, stroking him languidly as you await his answer. “Please…” You repeated, eyes desperately boring into the void behind his goggles. 

“Oh, is my little pet desperate to see me?” He cooed out, his fingers skillfully finding your belt, undoing it at a painfully slow pace. It was your turn to buck your hips into him, rolling them into his touch. “Mmm, such a little slut, can’t wait until I get my hands on you, can you?” He teased. 

“Satanus, yes, please! Wanna see you.” You groaned, breath catching as he slowly teased you through your jeans. “Need you, need- need- ah!” You cried, throwing your head back once again, eyes fluttering shut from absolute pleasure. It’s then that the man opted to unzip your fly, pausing his animalistic activities to gently tug your jeans over your hips. You weren’t having any of this slow and sweet shit; however, and kicked them off as soon as you got the chance to, allowing him easier access to your sopping cunt. The smell hit him immediately and he moaned, head falling against your forehead, his breathing ragged and strained. His cock reacted, bouncing in your hand and you continued your teasing. 

“Then beg me for it, pet. I don’t think you’ve earned the opportunity to unmask me just yet.” His resolve crumbled with every soft touch, every stroke. He pushed into your hand and you took that as a sign to speed your motions before you pushed him back. Confusion was written across his features, that was until you let a healthy glob of spit hit his angry cock. “Oh mother fuck.” The man hissed out, crashing his bloodied lips into your own, allowing the metallic taste of your own blood to permeate your tongue. You reciprocated, tongue swiping across his bottom lip, begging for entrance. He parted his lips, granting you access, as he swiftly moved your panties to the side, his thick fingers slipping between your weeping folds. It took everything in him to not take you then and there, your pussy sucking his fingers in, tight and wet. 

“Please, please, I need to see you.” You sobbed out between kisses, but it was clear that it wasn’t enough. The musician growled at your words, dipping his index into your slick and using it as a lubricant to tease your clit with, it took him a moment but he found the bundle of nerves. The instanthis calloused finger landed on your clit, your vision exploded into stars, mouth practically running on its own, incoherent pleas and various iterations of “more” tumbling from your swollen lips. You were finally giving him something to work with, the pleas, the praises. He continued working your cunt, curling his fingers into the sweet spot deep inside you, warm walls squeezing against him. 

“Oh, darling. I’ll give you whatever your sinful heart desires.” He nipped at your bottom lip, splitting it with his canines before he pulled back, panting as he tried to catch his breath, however he refused to remove his hand from your cunt, slowing his movements only a fraction so that he could catch his bearings. “Are you sure?” He asked you, a worry laced in his voice. You nodded fervently, a saccharine look in your eyes peeking through beyond the undeniable lust. Whether you understood he was anxious about what you would think of him or not wasn’t apparent but regardless, you wanted to know who the man you were bound to fuck was. 

With a swift move he tugged the mask off, tossing it to the couch behind him and removing his balaclava. What you hadn’t expected was the sight to take your breath away completely. His hair tumbled out of the bun he had it tucked into, and the messy curls cascaded down his shoulders, doe eyes framed by the prettiest eyelashes you’d ever seen, and his swollen lips? God you couldn’t even think anymore. You immediately kissed them, nipping at his lips, taking his bottom lip into your mouth and sucking, tearing a moan from him, his lust filled eyes expanding even farther as you continued your assault on his lips. You bit down harder this time, cracking his lip. This time the metallic taste belonged to him and you couldn’t help but moan at his taste. You needed more. 

“Please, I- I need you…” You panted, eyeing the man with carnal desire. 

“Eddie, my name is Eddie.” And with that final confession he grabbed you by the hip and dragged you back to the roomiest surface he could find. It was all teeth, tongue, and the metallic taste of each other’s blood. Your hand on his cock and his fingers still working you open, movements becoming more erratic as he practically drilled into you with his fingers, setting an unrelenting pace that he seemed eager to keep up. Your knees hit the back of a couch, and his arm immediately shot to the small of your back, gently lowering you, a contrast to how he was abusing your needy body. Your hands moved to his hair in preparation for what was to come, yanking at his soft locks, releasing a deep moan from low in his chest. His hair was silky underneath your fingertips, few tangles in the way or your mission. 

“Eddie, please.” You whined, flush with desire, unable to think of what you wanted anymore than wanting him. A smirk adorned his lips and he sank his knees onto the soft cushion, knees bracketing your hips perfectly, his hands coming up to frame your face, curls ticking your cheekbones as he did so. 

“Open up, sweetheart.” He cooed. Instinctively you parted your lips for him only to feel a glob of his spit fly into your mouth. “Now swallow like the good devil worshipping slut you are.” You obeyed without question, swallowing down his spit with a pornographic moan. As you did, he took a moment to line himself up for you. “God, you look so beautiful, blasphemous doesn’t even begin to cover it, pet.” He praised as he rubs his dick against your soaked entrance, your hips rocking into him, threatening to suck him in. He hissed but slid his hand down your body, tracing your figure with his fingers, teasing in the most tantalising way, once he reaches your ass, he gives it a harsh slap at which you gasp out, choking on your breath, the sting of his hand making contact with your ass radiating a heat you hadn’t thought possible. You hadn’t expected it in the least but it was welcome nonetheless. “Behave.” He growled out, a darkness seeping into the word.

“P-Please, Eds… I need - I can’t, please.” You babbled, words completely incoherent. You weren’t even sure what you were begging for at this point. His cock? His fingers? Were you asking to be fucked stupid? In all your incoherent ramblings and begging Eddie caught one thing that made his brain fuzzy around the edges. “Corrupt me satanus, corrupt me, please.” Playing into the whole devil worship aspect had him gone, his hips violently snapping into yours, completely disregarding that you might need to adjust to the stretch. Part of him felt bad, but your immediate response was to wrap your legs around his waist, crying his name out as tears brimmed your eyes, mascara beginning to run down your cheeks. To Eddie, you looked absolutely perfect. He leaned in and peppered kisses across your face to wipe away the tears that trickled down. 

“S’this what you want, my little pet? You want me to ruin you?” His husky voice was in your ear as he dipped his head lower, his hips rolling into yours slowly. He moved masterfully for someone so scrawny, cock buried to the hilt as he rocked into you. Your mouth fell slack, tightening your legs around his waist and tugging him into you. “Come on, answer me, sweetheart.” He coaxed, pulling out of you slowly before snapping his hips into yours. The pleasure and pain mixed together in a teasing dance, keeping you on the edge and overwhelming your senses all the same. You couldn’t verbally answer and so you turned your head, tucking your face into his neck and kissing up to his ear. About halfway up you landed on a sensitive spot, causing a moan to tumble from his lips, a shiver running down your spine. You latched on like a vampire, sucking over the spot, lapping over it with your tongue to soothe any violent bites you inflicted upon him. In turn he bit into your shoulder, trying to ground himself in reality instead of losing himself to carnal pleasure, the coil in his abdomen tightening evermore. His plan had gone to shit the moment you continued to nibble on his neck, your hands tugging harder at his lock, pulling him further into you. With a slight upward tilt of your hips, Eddie hit a new angle when he snapped his hips into yours, ploughing deeper into you. The both of you moaned in unison before he released a strangled whimper. It was your turn to break skin, your mouth filled with the crimson substance that sustained Eddie’s life. Releasing your lips from the wound, you kissed over his neck and to his shoulder, smearing the fluid across his upper half. 

His pace picked up, slamming into you, deeper and deeper, nothing but the sound of breathless lovers, bodies colliding, and the sweet ecstasy of carnal desire flooding the green room. Your hand then came to his back, scratching down it and eliciting a whine from the man above you. 

“Please, please, please.” You chanted into his neck. It was as if he understood what you meant, his hand coming down between your joined bodies to rub over the bundle of nerves, little figure eights being drawn over your clit. You were going to lose your mind, and maybe even your soul. Would selling it to the devil be so bad? It didn’t take long after that for a white heat to build, a pressure that you weren’t used to building, the coil tightening, threatening to snap like an elastic band. 

“Oh, shit, sweetheart, I’m close.” The man turned his head, kissing up your neck, over your cheek, and found your lips. His kiss was searing hot, burning with need. He chased his release with you, trying to bring you as close to the edge as he could, hoping you might be able to finish at the same time. “Don’t want to finish until you do.” The devil could be generous if he wanted to be.

“S’close.” You panted against his swollen lips, unable to give any coherent answer to him, not that you cared. If laying in sin felt this good, you’d bed the devil any day. “Please, Eds… Don’t stop.” And somehow he kept at it, the same pace, same pressure, same rough and unrelenting fuck that he had been using for the past few minutes. He knew that don’t stop also meant that he shouldn’t change a single fucking thing he was doing, and rightfully so. With a cry, you closed your eyes tight, lights dancing behind your eyelids as you came, the elastic finally snapping, and your release soaking Eddie’s stage uniform. 

“Oh- fuck!” The man squeaked, his own release following shortly after. He could have sworn he saw stars in that moment, arms shaking beneath his own weight. His body fully collapsed on top of yours, your arms wrapping around him tightly, kisses tenderly placed on his shoulder. “So perfect f’me.” He mumbled into your sticky skin, reluctantly peeling from you. His brutal and domineering demeanour melted away, replaced by a certain level of care. You could see it behind his eyes clearly. “You okay, sweetheart?” He cooed, brushing your hair from your face, a few strands sticking to your forehead. 

“Y-yeah.” You shakily breathe out, your voice hoarse from the activities that had just taken place. As you try to prop yourself up on your shoulders, you wince, a pain shooting through you. “Just sore.” You murmured, suddenly shy under the musician’s gaze. You didn’t dare look at him anymore, a twinge of shame filling your heart. 

“Hey, sweetheart, come here.” He mumbled, scooting closer, not daring to pull out just yet. He pulls you up, legs entangled with each other in a pile of limbs, unsure of where one person ended and the other began. He pressed your warm body to his, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead, rubbing soothing circles over your back, his gentle voice whispering sweet nothings to you. 

“Thank you, Eddie.” You mumbled into his skin, placing a tender kiss over a forming bruise. “That was something else.” He hummed in agreement, allowing his eyes to flutter close for a second, letting himself enjoy a fleeting moment of human contact while he was on tour. While the guys were wonderful and he loved them to death, there was a certain intimacy that he missed in lovers. One that he didn’t indulge in as much these days. 

Reluctantly, he pulled out and you pulled away, debating whether to say anything to him, or whether you wanted to indulge in some more pleasantries. If you were any wiser and more observant you’d have noticed the longing in his eyes, his gaze trailing over your figure as you pushed away to gather your belongings. It was odd to say that the musician would have wanted you to stick around for some more aftercare, it would have been even stranger if he admitted to you that he just wanted you to stick around post coitus and have a drink, maybe a smoke, and get to know each other. 

“Hey, hang on, let me clean you up.” His voice softened, taking you aback. “Come on, pet, I’m not gonna leave you like this.” He gets up only to tuck himself back into his slick soaked uniform, cringing as he does so. He grabs a water bottle from the nearby table and a small cloth kept on the vanity in the far corner of the room. “Come on, just sit.” He motioned back over to the couch and watched as you hesitantly padded over. You sat down on the cleanest area you could find, squirming as you began to feel Eddie’s cum slipping out of you. 

“S’fine, you don’t have to.” You mumbled, turning away from the man. He sighed as he approached you, sinking to his knees before starting to clean your thighs. He worked his way up between your legs, cleaning the leaking spend from your cunt. He placed a few gentle kisses to the tops of your thighs, your eyes flicking over to him as he did so. That was the moment you got a good look at the man. Dark ink littered his skin, barely an inch was pure, untouched, the only areas you couldn’t see his tattoos were the areas in which you had drawn blood, the dried fluid flaking slowly. He continued cleaning you up, rubbing gentle and warm circles with the wet cloth. Part of you couldn’t help but find this incredibly thoughtful, your heart squeezing at the gestures, but the other half of you believed that you were probably just an easy lay. 

“Hush, yes I do. It’s the least I can do.” His doe eyes met yours as he looked up at you through his lashes. “I made a mess of you, darling, and I need to clean you up.” His voice was sincere, soft even, and you couldn’t help but melt. You allowed him to tend to your tired limbs, and once he got to your neck, he apologised, knowing that it would probably hurt. You couldn’t help but stare at the softness behind his eyes, the fire that burned within had fizzled out and was replaced by some unnamed emotion. As the towel made contact with your neck, you winced, earning yourself a kiss from the musician. It shocked you that even after the heat of the lustful moment he was still willing to kiss you but you accepted it, melting into his lips. They were soft, a little chapped, but inviting nonetheless. 

“Thank you.” You whispered against them, afraid your voice would give out if you spoke any louder. Your hand came up to his face, brushing your thumb over his sharp cheekbone before placing your forehead against his. “You’re sweeter than I anticipated.” 

“And you’re kinkier than I anticipated.” He retorted and moved back gently, only to give himself room to fold the towel over to a clean side before cleaning up your face with a gentle hand. “Thank you for indulging me.” He cooed out to you, his sincerity going straight to your heart. You couldn’t help but nod. 

“I should go.” Your voice broke, and in that same moment, so did Eddie’s heart. There was something to you that drew him in, that he wanted more of, that he craved. It flew past just the need for human contact, part of it had to do with the way you ran with the punches he threw, you went with the game you played from the stage all the way to the back room. Eddie nodded solemnly, pushing away. 

“Yeah, uh…” He bit his lip, tossing the washcloth on the coffee table. Surely worse things had been on that surface in the past, but right now Eddie didn’t care about that, not about what was on that table, what would be in the future, or what he just threw onto it. “You don’t have to, I actually, I don’t know that I want you to. Can I at least buy you a drink?” He asked, standing up straight. You turn around, grabbing your pants so you could slip them back on over your legs. 

“You want to buy me a drink?” There’s a hopeful tinge to your voice, head shooting over to look at the musician in question. As you did, you hissed out gently, the garden of blooming roses on your neck blossoming farther across your neck, bite marks adorning your skin like dark tattoos. There was no denying what had gone on. 

“Sweetheart, I think we both left a mark on one another,” he teased, “when you pray to the devil so well, I think it’s hard for him to resist.” A twinkle in his eyes told you it was more than just the sex you both had. “Besides, it might help with the pain. What do you say?” 

“Mhmm,” you hummed as if you were deep in thought, “only if the devil can treat me right.” You mused. “You going to change first?” You waggled your eyebrows, referring to his squirt-soaked trousers, only to receive a smirk in return.  “Oh no sweetheart, I wear my battle scars with pride.” With that, he pushed back to grab his helmet, slipping it back over his head before taking your hand in his and leading you off to the bar. He wasn’t what you expected, none of it was, the show, the music, Eddie, but as you took his hand you couldn’t help the feeling brewing in your chest; the feeling that maybe the unexpected was exactly what you needed.

taglist: @munson-blurbs @the-unforgivenn @littlesubbyflower @word-wytch (if you want) @rip-quizilla @hellfire--cult @mystish

#eddie x reader #eddie munson #stranger things #musician!eddie #stranger things au #mask kink #ghost bc #sodo ghoul #eddie as sodo #i'm obsessed #eddie munson smut #reader insert #music

[munson-blurbs]

Single Dad!Eddie x Fem!ReaderSeries

Day 2 of TUI-Mas

Warnings: pregnancy, difficulty conceiving, mention of pregnancy symptoms, lots of Eddie being a mush

WC: 1.5k

February 1999

You didn’t get pregnant that first month. Your period arrived unceremoniously, leaving in its wake blood-stained underpants and disappointment.

It didn’t happen in December or January, either, despite meticulous cycle tracking and Eddie barely keeping his hands off of you. Each negative test feels like a failure; you’ve stopped taking them when Eddie’s around because you can sense his disappointment, though he puts on a brave face to comfort you.

But now, you’re late. Only by two days–if you weren’t paying careful attention to the dates, you might not have noticed. You have to bite back a smile as you tear open the box, fingers trembling as you poorly contain your excitement. It might be nothing, just a period ironically delayed by stress of trying to conceive.

Or you might be pregnant.

You inhale, filling your lungs with air and holding it there for a while until you let it out in one strong breath. All you’re doing is peeing on a stick, but your body nervously buzzes with each passing second. You’ve likely taken a dozen of these by now, and there’s nothing that should make you think you’ll get a different result today.

With utmost care, you place the used test on the back of the sink and wash your hands. You keep pressing on the soap handle to the point where a small pool forms in your palm, but you can’t draw your gaze from the tiny result window. The control line begins forming quickly, as it always does. 

How long ago did Eddie leave to grab breakfast—maybe ten minutes? Sundays at Zeke’s Bagels are usually swamped, so you have plenty of time to wipe away your tears if that sacred second line never appears. 

“Mommy?”

A drowsy voice interrupts your inner monologue. Harris stands at the bathroom doorway, wiping the sleep from his big brown eyes and yawning. 

“What’s up, Har?” You hope your anxiety doesn’t bleed through, though you doubt he’s awake enough to recognize it. 

He squints as he adjusts to the light. “Where’s Daddy? Also, I’m hungry.”

A sigh of relief escapes you when you realize he’s too focused on breakfast to pay attention to anything else. “Daddy left to get us some bagels,” you explain, allowing your heart to slow to a normal rate. “Why don’t you go make your bed, and we can watch some cartoons while we wait for him, okay?”

Harris nods, barely picking up his sock-clad feet as he trudges back towards his bedroom. You giggle at the way he tries to fight his sleepiness, shaking your head in amusement. 

That’s when you see it, faint but still definitely present: the tell-tale second pink line.

“Oh my God.” Your hand flies to your mouth in complete shock, tears forming a film over your eyes so the results become blurred. You blink them away to get a better look, partially convinced that you’re hallucinating or projecting your hopes, and that reality will set in and show a negative result.

But when your vision clears, both lines are still visible.

You’re pregnant.

Now you just have to tell your husband; the question is, how?

You’re still mulling over the possibilities when the key clicks in the door ten minutes later. Eddie carries in a brown paper bag of bagels, whistling a tune that startles you from your thoughts. 

“Food’s here!” Eddie calls out; your stomach flip-flops at the sound of his voice. The temptation to let giddiness take over and wave the test in his face is strong, but you hold yourself back. First and foremost, you don’t want Harris knowing until you’re safely in the second trimester, but another part of you is still in denial that you truly are pregnant. That there’s a tiny little life growing within your womb, half you and half Eddie.

I’ll test again in a few days, you tell yourself, and if it’s still positive, then I’ll tell him.

You shove the test in the top drawer among your make-up and hair care products where it will be safe from your husband’s wandering eyes. Before you shut off the light, you get a glimpse of your reflection in the mirror. You look the same as you always do, but there’s no denying that you feel different.

Pregnant. You’re pregnant with Eddie’s baby. In approximately nine months, the Munsons will be a family of four.

“Mommy! Daddy’s home!”

“Coming!” You wipe away any remaining tears and make your way to the kitchen, trying to quell the excitement of knowing that you’re technically eating for two.

Breakfast drags a bit, both because of the weighty secret you’re guarding and the fact that cream cheese apparently now makes your nose wrinkle in disgust, but Harris’s animated storytelling makes the time pass a bit faster. Apparently, being seven years old is more dramatic than you’d remembered.

One particular story involving Harris, Joshua Harrington, and a celery-stick sword fight remains etched into your brain even as you brush bagel crumbs off of the table and into your cupped palm. Harris has plunked down in front of the television, gaze glued to a show about a conjoined cat and dog with screeches so grating that you find yourself wincing with each piece of dialogue. The distraction is enough to keep you from tuning into Eddie rummaging through the bathroom drawers, searching for the nail clippers.

“Um, babe?” His voice cracks on the second word, and you can sense both confusion and concern in his tone. “C-Can you come here? Now?”

Oh, shit. 

You dash into the bathroom, shrinking into yourself when you find him, one hand bracing his body weight on the sink and the other clutching a very positive pregnancy test. 

“Are…is this…” He turns to you, wide-eyed, lower lip quivering. “When…?”

“Right before breakfast,” you jump in, your pinky finger nudging his along the sink’s edge. “I wanted to do something special to surprise you after I took another one later this week, y’know, just to be sure.”

Eddie exhales a breath that’s half-laugh and half-cry, lowering the test to the ceramic ledge so he can place both hands on your cheeks. “You’re pregnant?” he asks, words thick with disbelief. He chuckles when you nod, head moving up and down between his calloused palms. “Holy shit; you’re having my baby.”

His mouth finds yours in an instant, fingers leaving your face and traveling to your waist. Eddie pulls you in close and punctuates the long kiss with several little pecks. 

“My gorgeous girl is having my baby,” Eddie murmurs, gently sinking to his knees so he’s eye-level with your stomach. It’s still far too early to be showing, but he still bunches up your shirt just above your belly button. You giggle when he presses his lips against your skin, an involuntary ticklish reaction. “I just…I’m so happy. I got kinda worried when it wasn’t happening, that something was wrong.” He looks up at you with an expression of relief and awe. “We’re having a baby, Sweetheart.” His thumb trails along your exposed flesh, the place where your child will develop over the next nine months.

You laugh, pulling him up so you can kiss him again. He tastes like the orange juice he’d drank with breakfast, sweet and tangy. “We should wait to tell people until a doctor confirms it,” you murmur as he rests his forehead on yours. “Let it just be our little secret for now, okay?”

Eddie nods, lips occupied with kisses that render him unable to speak for a minute. “I’m glad I found out when I did, to be honest,” he admits with a small smile. “I missed so much of this with Harris, and I wanna be part of everything with this little munchkin.” 

“Everything?” you ask suspiciously. “The morning sickness, the mood swings, the swollen feet? I’m pretty sure my mom got hemorrhoids when she was pregnant with me–”

“Everything,” Eddie affirms, lacing his fingers with yours. “The good, the bad, and the…hemorrhoid-y.”

You can’t hold back your amusement, throwing your head back with laughter. “I’m holding you to that.”

But you know you won’t need to, because this is Eddie, and the love he already has for this child radiates off of him.

He wraps you in a warm embrace, holding you around your shoulders so that his soft arm hair brushes the nape of your neck. He keeps you safe in his arms while you keep the baby safe in your womb.

In a little while, a commercial will interrupt Harris’s TV show. He’ll come running over to exclaim that he needs the toy being advertised, despite having a present-filled birthday just three weeks ago, and the Munson home will return to its definition of normalcy. For now, you and Eddie relish in this special moment, just the two of you and the tiny bean that is Baby Munson.

--

#eddie munson #eddie stranger things #eddie x reader #eddie x you #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x f!reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fanfic #fanfic #eddie munson stranger things #stranger things #tui

[adventuringblind]

The Wolf, The Bunny, and the Muppet

Carlando X Reader

Genre: Smut

Summary: Carlos makes plans, Lando doesn't follow them, and punishment ensues. She's just trying to look cute, is that really so hard?

Warnings: Mildly dark Carlos, Denial, Overstimulation, Bondage, Degradation, Praise, PinV, Marking, Heavy subspace, Lando being a pain, BDSM, unprotected sex (not condoned), crying, anal with mild prep,

Notes: So... this is a thing. I fell in love with this towards the end. Dark Carlos is my new favorite thing. Hope the requester appreciates my effort because this was A LOT. Jk, kinda, but I do hope you like it!!

Side note: feeding my praise kink fuels my motivation to write. I am lacking that currently.

Masterlist // Request Form // My Website // buy me a Ko-Fi

It's not often Carlos makes a pre-planned effort to put a scene together. He's calculated, sure, but he can also go with whatever the situation calls for.

This weekend is different. He has something he wants to try and has made his partners aware of the plan. It's not often he gets to delve into non-sexual domination. The kind that builds up into something more.

He'd been very clear about the rules after getting them off on Thursday. Hopefully enough to satisfy them (Lando) until Sunday night where he would tear them apart and put them back together.

Lando has always been the trickier of the two. She does whatever Carlos says. Lando can but chooses not to.

Needless to say, that if Lando breaks any of the rule's things will become significantly more difficult for everyone involved. Mostly for himself, but Carlos also doesn't really want to put that much effort into doing something different.

Friday is easy. Lando isn't pent up, both are dressed in outfits he'd picked out, and haven't complained about it. Not that he's expecting it. He's not going to put them in something they aren't comfortable with.

Friday practice goes well. Enough for Carlos to have the energy to tease the pair. He leaves them wanting more, for obvious reasons. There is something so satisfying about having to people who love and trust you, begging for anything you give them. Carlos loves this feeling; addicted to it like a drug.

The climate they are racing in is warm enough that Carlos can comfortably have the female wear a dress that barely brushes the tops of her thighs. It's skimpy, and he loves it. He loves the attention she's getting and how people are gawking at her. There is a primal satisfaction deep down because he knows full well she's his.

On the other hand, he had to wrestle Lando's hoodie away from him. The risk of overheating left Carlos is a predicament. The result being a grumpy Brit who wants to die of a heat stroke but complied regardless.

He manages through qualifying fine. Knowing he's going to find his girl in the garage waiting for him. Carlos gets through media with a PR approved smile. Still eyeing Lando and the fact that he is back in his sweatshirt.

Carlos edges him for hours when they get back to the hotel. His precious girl sits right at his feet, waiting patiently for direction. Eyes glazed over at simply being made to watch and wait.

Lando is sweating horrifically. Carlos left him in the sweatshirt, making him regret his earlier misdemeanors. The Brit is slobbering on the sheets, begging for some reprieve. Carlos helps him take a cold shower when he thinks Lando has learned his lesson.

He makes the podium on Sunday. He's elated, walking on cloud nine. Satisfied with his adrenaline-fueled kisses to his lovers in a back corner before he heads to do media.

It's back in the garage when Charles starts laughing at an Instagram post. It draws Carlos' attention. He looks over to see what's on the screen, only to clench his jaw in utter disbelief.

Lando, is openly flirting with Oscar. His smug look says he knows exactly what he's doing. Of everyone, it had to be Oscar. It could've been Max for all he cared. Oscar just grates on his nerves with the way he looks at Lando.

He ends up having to stay later than expected. Lando had said he was heading back to the hotel to order dinner for them since he was done. Maybe try to make amends for his earlier stunt.

Carlos takes his girl with him. He watches her shudder as he praises her for being all weekend. Not like he expected anything different. Carlos broke her a long time ago. He's still breaking Lando.

He keys the room open, expecting to see food on the table and Lando sitting patiently. What he hears instead is Lando moaning. The sheets shifted around underneath his writhing body.

Carlos just stands and watches for a minute. Lando is clearly aware he's is but making no attempt to stop. The sounds he's letting out are exaggerated and whiny. Terribly desperate for something Carlos won't give him.

"Mmm - Oscah..."

And Carlos snaps. Any semblance of self-restraint disappears. The stoic facade he was trying to keep dissolves into a fiery anger. Red hot and boiling in his stomach.

Carlos storms over to Lando and flips him without any difficulty. He pins him with one hand and undoes his belt with the other. "What a fucking brat. You can't be a slut for one second can you?"

Lando is whining underneath him. It's a pathetic noise, and Carlos soaks up every bit of it. "Desperate little thing." He wraps Lando's wrists in his bet and tightens it. The Brit lay bare and vulnerable at the mercy of Carlos' decisions.

Carlos spares a glance at the female. She has stripped her own clothes and is kneeling by the bed. He wants to drown in the sight and ravish her until neither of them can breathe. "Must you ruin my plans, Landito?"

"Just wanted to feel you."

"Yeah, you're going to feel me for weeks after I'm done with you."

Carlos motions for the girls to come to him on the bed. She crawls to him, big eyes clouded with want. "You're so perfect, amour. I'm going to reward you for being so good this weekend. Lando will watch and take notes."

Lando whines as Carlos rolls him onto his back. Rough and calloused fingers grip at Lando's hips. They tease the sensitive areas where Lando needs him most. Cock achingly hard and dripping.

"Stay put and I might let you cum tonight."

Carlos moves closer to the angelic female, looking at him like he is the only thing in the world. He strips off his own clothes and pulls her body closer to his. The skin on skin alone has her eyes rolling back.

He pushes her head lower. Her mouth opens to receive his cock with no hesitation. She wraps her lips around him with such skill that Carlos can only get lost in it. Hand buried in her hair if only to worship her. There is no need to guide or hold as he bucks his hips up and hits the back of her throat.

It's impossible for him not to take advantage of her mouth. It is harder to stay away from the edge of ecstasy. But he manages, he pulls her off him and slams his lips onto hers.

His fingers slips into her cunt with ease. Wet from the weekend of waiting. The anticipation of feeling him finally comes to fruition.

"Sir, please - I need you." The brg falls from her lips like it's her first language. All she knows is him; drowning in the way his fingers rub against her g-spot. "Need to be filled by you."

Carlos can't deny the girl anything. He burries himself in her. Eye's burning holes into Lando's as he snaps his hips at a relentless pace. "How does it feel knowing this could've been you?"

Lando whines and pouts, hips bucking towards the spainard to find the friction he needs. Carlos grants him nothing but a handprint on his ass. Tears spring into his eyes at the sting. It grants Carlos a sick kind of satisfaction.

His girl pants his name. Her tongue sticks out of her mouth in search of him. The only satisfaction she gains is from being good for Carlos.

He feels her tighten around him, alerting him that she's on the edge. "Wait for me, I'm almost there." He whispers against her skin. She scratches at his back as he picks up the pace. Her own way of claiming him, it sends Carlos' head spinning.

She's begging for it but waiting so patiently. The control he has over her is intoxicating. He could keep her like this forever, but she's been good and deserves a reward.

"Cum for me, you've been so good princessa." She tightens around him, walls refusing to let up. Her body jolts in the pleasurable waves of dopamine and serotonin.

Carlos finishes with a few sloppy thrusts, painting the inside of her white. The only thing left is their heavy breathes as they bask in the high.

Carlos praises her as he pulls out. She whines at the loss of him, so he places a hand on her hip to ensure she knows he's present while in a vulnerable headspace. It's endearing how she needs him.

"See that Lando? Do you think you can be good? Can you listen to my words like the good boy I know you are?"

Lando is sobbing. Putty in the hands of Carlos. Broken and beautiful. Just the way he should be.

Carlos takes pity on him. Places Lando in-between the girls' legs. He waits, unmoving inside of his perfect girl.

He drips lube all over his fingers and takes care in opening up the Brit, but leaves him right enough to ensure a bit if a sting still.

Lando is keening. He's trying so hard not to move; to be good for Carlos.

Carlos takes his time sinking into the Brit. Each movement sends him further into the warmth of his Carlos' perfect girl. Lando is sobbing now, begging for anything Carlos is willing to give.

Carlos finally gives in. He show the two of them to mercy. Teeth clamping onto Lando's neck to mark him and fingers pinching the girls nipples causing her to shreik.

Perfect for him.

His.

All his.

Carlos fucks them into overstimulation. He's relentless and refuses to let the moment go to waste. Not when they are sobbing in pure ecstacy.

They chant his name, and he feeds off it. He could live in this place. Only hearing them worship him for the rest of his life.

Finally, he slows. He pulls out gently and whispers words of encouragement and praise. He kisses up and down their bodies and worships them because they are completely his.

He cleans them up with gentle hands, let's them know how much he loves and adores them.

Carlos cuddles them to sleep. The feeling of their hearts beating on either side of him only sends him further into the chasm of adoration for the two.

Hearts that are beating with his in tadem.

Hearts that beat for him.

#carlos sainz x you #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz smut #carlos sainz f1 #carlos sainz imagine #carlos sainz jr #carlos sainz #carlos sainz x female reader #carlos sainz x y/n #cs55 imagine #cs55 x reader #cs55 #carlando #carlos sainz x lando norris #lando norris x carlos sainz #lando norris #lando norris x y/n #lando norris f1 #lando norris fanfic #lando norris x reader #lando norris smut #ln4 imagine #ln4 fic #ln4 #ln4 x reader #scuderia ferrari #mclaren lando norris #mclaren racing #mclaren #formula 1

[bellswlw]

modern!ellie williams headcanons

i’ve literally been SITTING on these since april so… i might make a pt 2 who knows but i need to get something out. also cw for fem presenting reader, kindaaaa smut mentions but no full scenes. i think that’s all enjoy<33

ellie definitely talks in her sleep. most of the time is basically incoherent slurring, but sometimes if you get lucky enough to wake up to it, you can hear her having full blown conversations, hand gestures and all. “here. take it, here.” she says, her voice coated thickly with a rasp and her hand held out in front of her. she’s pretending to hold something in her hand, shaking it when whoever doesn’t take what she’s offering. you clasp a hand over your mouth to stop the laugher from bubbling over. but she catches you then, her hand immediately forming into a straight point and saying, “don’t laugh.” and your eyes widen in shock only for ellie to slouch against the mattress with a small huff. she’s fallen asleep again.

i like to imagine ellie cutting off her skinny jeans into shorts in the summer. like taking her knife and just fucking cutting them clean off while she’s still wearing them. and after she’s done she finally looks up at you asking, “they even?” and you have to laugh because… no. her right pant leg was significantly shorter than the left, resulting in her having to slowly, bit by bit trim off more fabric until she had accidentally went from wearing shorts that fell below her knee to ones that rode up the middle of her thigh. she scoffed, trying to tug at the phantom fabric “shit, they’re too short,” and she adjusted them on her, trying to get comfortable in her new clothes and waiting for a response. she looks up at you, and you can’t even draw your eyes away from her thighs. you’d never ever seen ellie i’m something like this, so it was a treat for you. eventually you speak, “i like ’em” and ellie smirks at you before taking a step closer, whispering under her breath, “course you do.”

ellie would do anything for you. including, going with you to your nail appointments and getting her nails done to match yours. although, she kept hers short, with a clear base and small black flames curling under the top coat. she sits patient and quietly for you to be done, watching you scrunch your nose at her and saying “can you itch, please?” and you’d tip your head toward her before a gentle finger swiped away the small tingle. driving home after lunch, she would grip the steering wheel lightly, her fingers still slightly spread apart not being used to the feeling of polish. “you sure it’s dry? it feels heavy.” and she looks over at you before you ask for her hand to check. “ellie, it’s been two hours. i think you’re good.” and you ran the pad of your finger over each finger, she was set. (let’s also not forget how her cheeks flush as she slips her thumb into your mouth and seeing the design disappear and send a flood of wetness straight through her when you release it with a moan)

ellie kissing your thighs before going down on you. that’s it. it’s canon i know it.

she also definitelyyy would have absolutely no self control seeing how good your ass looks in your best jeans, watching as you’re doing something super domestic like loading the dishwasher or switching the laundry… or even simply bending over to grab something you dropped before she slides a finger under the thin strap of your thong and snaps it against your skin. you’d straighten up immediately, letting a gasp fill your lungs before your mouth falls in a hard line. and of course she’d look away, pretending she didn’t do anything with a smirk glued to her face.

i totally headcanon ellie having a red iphone. and she definitely doesn't have a case on it but yet still gets upset every time she drops it and a new crack chips away at her screen somehow dodging her camera

oh and she is a fucking nerd when it comes to comic-con, like in the best way possible. you tag along with her as she walks from booth to booth, nearly dragging you behind her with a single hand. like she wears a lanyard (not around her neck, but strung through one of her jean loops beside her karabiner with her car keys) and everything, collecting new pins with nearly every stop. you stand silent beside her as she talks to someone on the other side of the booth, seeing her grinning from ear to ear when she finds out that one of her favorite characters has an entire spin off series. she turns to look at you for a moment like she couldn’t believe it, and you smile at her before she scrambles to look up the series title on her phone. and as much as it might not be your thing, you just cant deny you don’t get some enjoyment out of it when you see how happy she is when the two of you are finally back in the car. “that, was fucking awesome.” and she sighs in her seat before asking you what you want to eat.

if she’s sitting next to you and not really paying that much attention, your hand will squeeze lovingly on her thigh and it makes her jolt a little, her eyes finding yours to see your smirking at the sudden twitch of her leg. “jeez, be gentle yeah?” and then she’s focusing her attention back to what was before, trying not to think about how later on she’d be wanting to feel the back of yours against hers when she’s drilling her strap into you ass up.

she’s always going “oh yeah?” or “that so, huh?” always egging you on, trying to find your eyes when you look away and feel the heat flood your skin. such a casual dominance about it. wanting to challenge her and be put back in your place with a simple question… one you can’t even answer without lying.

ellie loves tv girl and deftones like… don’t tell me she doesn’t bc your a liar and a fraud— give me money. she loves them. end of story.

#the last of us #ellie tlou2 #bellswlw #inbox ! #ellie williams #ellie tlou #ellie williams tlou #modern!ellie williams #ellie headcanons #ellie williams x reader

[nats--sw]

Little Monster | Leah Williamson

Leah Williamson x reader You and Leah have a daughter, but Leah has forgotten the one thing you asked her to do today.  I saw a tiktok a few days ago and I need it to write this. I think i want to write more about this, like a part 2 but idk yet, need some ideas 

"Leah, can you come here for a second?!" 

Leah made a face as soon as she heard your voice. She never refused to help you with whatever you needed, but when you needed her during an interesting football match, like today, her disposition wasn't at its best.  

"Can you give me ten minutes? The match is about to end." Leah knew that her request was risky and that she could end up losing, but it was the most exciting game of the week, and Arsenal was fighting for the top spot in the Premier League, and so far, the result wasn't in their favour. 

Leah waited for a few seconds for a response from you, but when more than two minutes passed, she knew she was getting into trouble. She didn't want to ruin the day, so she decided to give in and get up from the sofa, muttering a couple of curses on her way to the kitchen. 

"Hey love, what do you need?" she asked with the sweetest voice she could do. But when she saw you looking at her from head to toe with a serious expression, she knew her attempt to not worsen the situation had been in vain. 

"Why are you dressed like that?" Your serious tone of voice was reasonable. Beth had invited both of you to a dinner to celebrate the team's latest win in one of the most important matches of the season, and you had to leave in less than an hour to arrive on time. But Leah was still in her Arsenal shirt and a pair of shorts she always wore at home. 

"I won't take long to change. What do you need help with?" Leah quickly changed the topic of the conversation, lowering her gaze to the cake you were struggling to finish decorating. "By the way, that looks delicious," she muttered, trying to scoop up some frosting with her finger, receiving a playful slap on her hand in response. 

"If it's not Olivia, it's you," you muttered, referring to your daughter, who had done the same thing as Leah twenty minutes ago. At least she had been smarter and had quickly run to her room before you could say anything to her. 

Leah was about to defend herself, but your daughter's shout echoed throughout the house, drawing both of your attention. 

"A gooaal! Yees!" 

Leah practically ran towards the living room, cursing when she realized she had missed the goal that tied the game. But Olivia, who was only four years old, had managed to see the goal and well... being the daughter of a footballer it was obvious that she knew the excitement of seeing your favourite team score a goal. 

"It was a goal, mommy!" Liv approached Leah, who instinctively lifted her in her arms while watching the goal replay. "Did you see it?!" 

"I can't believe it, Liv. We are so close to win this now." The joy of the goal was interrupted by your presence. Any other day, you would have found it the cutest thing in the world to see your daughter and your wife dressed the same while enjoying the match. However, over half an hour ago, you had asked Leah to help Liv change her clothes, but she was still dressed the same as before. 

Leah closed her eyes when she remembered what you had asked her to do during halftime. She was almost afraid to turn around now. "I'm sorry, dear. But we still have time, we'll change right away, don’t worry." 

"You have 20 minutes, Williamson," you said before returning to the kitchen, avoiding an argument. 

"Mum is upset." Liv whispered. 

"Yeah, don't tell me." Leah replied shaking her head.

- 

"Okay, where is the outfit mum chose for you?" Leah asked, placing Liv on her bed. 

"I don't want to wear that, mommy." 

"Why not?" Leah started searching and found the dress under the bed, Liv's usual hiding spot for her mischievous activities or snacks stolen from the kitchen. "But it's your favourite dress," she said when she saw the little blue dress. 

"I don't like it anymore." Liv said, crossing her arms. Leah sighed; it was always a battle to get her daughter dressed. However, you and Leah had decided not to force Liv into wearing something she didn't want. Instead, you always tried to find an agreement that made everyone happy, you wouldn't make her wear something she wasn't comfortable in, but you wouldn't let her go outside with the wrong shoes or shorts on a freezing day either. 

"Alright, what would you like to wear then?" Leah resigned, mostly because the dress was now wrinkled, and she didn't feel like bothering with an iron now. Liv hearing this, hopped off the bed and sprinted to her wardrobe, from where she pulled out a monster costume you and Leah had bought a while ago thinking it was cute in a certain way, but Leah knew that costume shouldn't be there. 

"Hey, where did you get that?" Leah asked because she was sure the costume was supposed to be hidden in the wardrobe you both shared. It was an old costume Liv wanted to wear every day back then, which wasn't a significant issue before, but since she started school a few months ago, you and Leah had decided to hide it to avoid daily battles. 

"I found it." Liv responded nonchalantly, handing it to Leah, who didn't know what to do. “I want to wear this, mommy.” 

"You can't go with this, sweetheart. Your mum won't be happy with me if I let you wear this..." 

"But it's a party, mommy! Mum is making a cake because it's a party." 

"Yes, but it's not a costume party." Leah shook her head and went to the wardrobe to find another outfit to convince her daughter. 

"But I want to wear this!" Liv clung to her costume, her eyes welling up with tears instantly. 

And when Leah turned around, she knew she had made a big mistake. Liv and you had the same eyes, and the truth was she was weak against both of those gazes... Perhaps it was worth facing you being mad at her to prevent your daughter from crying over a silly costume. 

- 

The twenty minutes you had given Leah had already passed a while ago. You had already finished the cake; everything was ready and in the car now, all that was left was for Leah and Olivia to come down. You were still a bit annoyed that Leah had forgotten to do the one thing you had asked of her, of course, it was an important match for her, and you understood that she got distracted, but it was just one thing she had to do while you had taken care of everything else.  

"Leah! We're going to be late!" you shouted from the first step of the stairs, holding the car keys in your hand, ready to go. 

"I'm coming!" you heard Leah and her steps around the second floor. And when she appeared on the stairs a few seconds later in a simple outfit, not quite formal enough, all you could do was smile because she looked beautiful as always. "Please don't be mad," she murmured as she reached you, taking the car keys from your hand and leaving the house before you saw Olivia. 

With that gesture from your wife, you knew that something had happened, so you weren't surprised to see your daughter coming down the stairs in her costume, with a big smile on her face. At least Leah had taken the time to do her hair. 

"Wow, I thought I wouldn't see this little monster anymore." you said, taking her in your arms and giving her a few kisses on her cheeks until Liv laughed and pushed you away with her hands on your face. And like when you had seen Leah in her outfit, you couldn't bring yourself to be upset that Olivia wasn't wearing what you and Leah had agreed on because she looked completely adorable in her little costume.  

"Do you like it, mum?" Liv asked, trying to adjust her costume, which had moved with your attack of kisses. You couldn't say that you loved it, but after all, it was a dinner with friends, and you were sure that when you arrived at Beth's, all the girls would be all over your daughter. 

"I love it, darling." 

- 

The car journey was quiet, not because you were still upset with Leah – although you were still annoyed, but now it wasn't for the same reason as before or because of Liv's costume. You were mad at her because as soon as you got in the car, Leah blamed you for missing the end of the Arsenal match, where they lost in the last minute. Was that your fault? Clearly not. In fact, if Leah had done what you asked her to do during halftime, she could have watched the entire second half without interruptions. 

Leah didn't usually get upset if her favourite team lost a match, or at least she didn't show it to you, but this time Arsenal had lost the top of the table and she had missed the most crucial minutes of the match that everyone would be talking about all week.  

But that wasn't your fault.  

"I'll help you, darling." You told your daughter as soon as Leah parked outside Beth's house. It was a blessing that Olivia hadn't figured out how to unbuckle her seatbelt yet, so Leah usually took care of that, but now you offered to do it just to get out of the car. 

Leah didn't say anything, she just gripped the steering wheel to hold back the anger she felt towards herself for being such an idiot and taking it out on you when you had nothing to do with it. She didn't get out of the car until she saw you ringing the doorbell.

Leah didn't want to ruin her friends' celebration, and she knew you didn't either, so she just had to pretend that everything was perfectly fine, something you and her had done more than once during all the years that you had been together. 

It was a simple task, and when Leah placed her hand on your waist and you didn't move away, she knew you had the same idea in mind. 

"Oh, I didn't know we had a little monster as a guest." Beth said when she saw the three of you outside her house. 

"Hiii" Olivia approached Beth, who had crouched down to give her a hug. 

"I couldn't convince her to wear something else." Leah said, laughing a bit while still holding you by your waist. 

"That's why mum is mad at mommy." Olivia blurted out, not intending to reveal her mothers' actions, but she was a child, and that's something kids tended to do. 

"Huh?" Beth raised an eyebrow with a hint of curiosity. 

"That's not true, Beth." you said, trying to downplay the situation your daughter had brought up. "Why don't we go inside? It's a bit cold out here." 

"Yeah, of course... sorry. The girls are already inside." Beth said and stepped aside to let you and Liv enter, blocking Leah from passing. "What did you do to upset your wife?" she murmured, ensuring you couldn't hear her words. 

"Nothing, I was just being an idiot, but don't worry, I'll fix it." 

- 

Just as you had thought, all the girls were around Olivia as soon as they saw her. Many of them had known her since she was a baby, so Liv felt attached to each one of them. 

"I think she gets more adorable every day," Beth appeared by your side, watching the girls sitting on the floor playing with your daughter. "I thought that costume had disappeared, or at least that's what Leah had told me." 

"Well, she found it," you murmured, still smiling. Seeing your daughter surrounded by people who loved her made you happy. 

"So... what happened with Leah?" Beth asked, pretending to sound disinterest. "She's been in the kitchen for half an hour, as if she's punishing herself." 

"I know Leah is your friend, but that doesn't stop her from acting like an idiot sometimes." 

"Oh... believe me, I know how much of an idiot she can be. But I think she's more than sorry for whatever she said." You chose to not say anything; you'd think about it once you got home. "Look y/n, you know I don't like to interfere in other people's relationships, but I think it's unfair that Leah is stuck in the kitchen missing out on moments like these." 

"I didn't send her to lock herself in, Beth." 

"I know, but you know how Leah is, she tends to punish herself and deprive herself of these things when she feels she had made a mistake," Beth sighed. "I've known you since the beginning of your relationship, I've been there for every one of your fights, and I know that at the end of the day you'll forgive each other as always, so why not do it now?" 

You contemplated Beth's words for a moment. She was right. You knew that when you got home, Leah would apologize and try to make things right, and you would forgive her before going to bed, so you could avoid the suffering that would last a few more hours. 

"We both know Leah adores these moments. She may have been an idiot by messing with you when you had nothing to do with it, but she doesn't deserve to miss this." 

"Fine." you said, shaking your head. "You stay in charge of my daughter until I get back, and please don't give her any more sweets. I don't want to deal with a sugar rush when I get home." 

"No promises." 

- 

Beth was right, Leah was in a corner of the kitchen as if someone had punished. 

"Hey" as soon as Leah heard your voice, she looked up from her phone and straightened her posture. 

"Did something happen? Where's Liv?" she quickly asked, thinking the only reason you'd talk to her was about something related to your daughter. 

"She's playing with the girls," you replied and approached her, resting your head on her shoulder, an action that made Leah stiffen, too afraid to move. "You know I'm not upset about the costume, right?" 

"Yes... deep down, I knew you wouldn't be bothered by that," she murmured, daring to put her arm around your back to make sure you wouldn't leave. "You're upset about what I said in the car... I was a complete idiot." 

"Exactly, you were an idiot. You acted like a straight man, you know?" you said, smiling a bit. 

"Wow, I think I've never been insulted like that." she said, looking at the floor with shame. "I was really that bad?" 

"Leah, you said that Arsenal lost because of me." you rolled your eyes, trying to move away from Leah's body when the anger returned at the memory of her words. But you didn't take more than two steps before Leah grabbed you by the waist and turned you to face her. 

"I'm really sorry. I know it's not an excuse, but I was stressed because we were running late, and I couldn't find something to wear, and the Liv's costume... my emotions got mixed up, and I did something that wasn't right, so I'm sorry," she said sincerely, never breaking the eye contact. 

"That doesn't change the fact that you're an idiot," you replied, and before Leah could defend herself, you placed your lips on hers. "If you make a scene over a silly football game again, I'll kick you out of the house and tell your mother. Do you hear me? And we both know she won't be happy." you said as you pulled away from her lips, but you kept pointing at her with your index finger. 

"Of course love, whatever you say," she kissed you again. It wasn't an intense kiss, but you could feel how much Leah wanted to express to you in it because she kept holding you by your waist to prevent you from pulling away. 

"Yuck!" Olivia exclaimed, frowning when she entered the kitchen followed by Beth. 

"Indeed... yuck." Beth laughed as she saw you with flushed cheeks and the huge smile on Leah's face. 

"Shut up, Beth," Leah laughed, approaching your daughter. "And you, little monster, I think you've had too many sweets while we weren't there." 

Olivia shook her head, but the blue all over her mouth gave her away. "I haven't eaten anything, mommy." 

"Sure." Leah rolled her eyes and picked up your daughter. "Come on, let's go find Viv so we can play for a bit." 

When your wife and your daughter left the kitchen, Beth approached you with a smile on her face. "I was right then?" 

"Shut up, Beth." 

#leah williamson x reader #leah williamson x you #woso x reader #woso imagine #leah williamson imagine

[narcissistshandler]

Can you fo reader x JongGun🙏

Like after Daniel broke his arm, he comes to your apartment, you might worried, teasing him or being jealous, and everything happens after that...

𝗪𝗛𝗔𝗧 𝗔𝗥𝗘 𝗪𝗘?

✧ 𝖯𝖠𝖨𝖱𝖨𝖭𝖦 gn! reader x park jong gun

✧ 𝖶𝖠𝖱𝖭𝖨𝖭𝖦𝖲 top!amab reader, bottom! gun, anal sex, masturbation (mentioned), jealous behavior, thoughts about hurting and drawing blood (in a romantic way), broken bones, and some sadism/masochism at the end

✧ 𝖠/𝖭 yeah, I didn't like the result of that (this has not been edited so please let me know if there is any mention/hint of the reader's gender)

He was already there when you arrived, even if you didn't notice his presence, one with the shadows of the room. It was as if he purposefully sought to hide and leave you with the uncomfortable feeling that you weren't alone, that there were eyes following you, and that there was something out of place - even if you didn't know for sure what.

And when you flicked the finger on the switch and the room filled with light, you couldn't help but jump when saw him sitting on your bed, with an unusual smile on his face, the eyes darker than usual, and wearing only one of your shirts. There was a tension there that you only felt when you stepped towards him and saw the spark of amusement in the curve of his lips, the excited insanity.

The air seemed to grow thicker, even though you merely tried to engage him in shallow conversation. Which you already had enough experience with to know it was difficult. Gun was reserved, in the best of words. He came and went as he pleased, had what he wanted and then disappeared without even an explanation.

What were you? You asked yourself every damn day. Your circle was smaller than it seemed, you heard his name quite often and it wasn't uncommon to bump into him, he also had the keys to your house, but that didn't make what you had something serious.

You tried not to think about it as Gun kissed you - ravaged your mouth as if he was furious with you, or at the very least, very excited. He was eager today - pulling your clothes off, biting your neck, fighting the fabric of your pants to get to your dick as quickly as possible. He was also talkative, 'I prepared myself for you while I waited', 'I thought about you while I did it', he said, knowing exactly how to tease you and leave you wanting him. 'I came on your bed, on your sheets, on your pillow', and you can almost smell him in your room after those words leave his mouth.

And his ass really was prepared for you, dripping with lube on your bed and his hard dick forming a tent under the shirt he had stolen from your closet.

You felt like a crazy person, like an addict who couldn't fight the source of the addiction. Gun only had to spread his legs for you, and like an eager puppy, you lined yourself up with a shaking hand on the relaxed hole and sank inside, where you belonged. What are we? The question came back to you. What does all this make us? Because you knew it had been months, maybe years, since Gun had slept with anyone else, neither did you.

You grabbed Gun's hands, somehow wanting to force him to answer the question that didn't even come out of your mouth and tried to hold his arms up. You wanted to know if he felt the same way. "Urgh," Gun groaned, and easily fought against your power. The sound full of pain and discomfort sounded alien in his mouth and it completely captured your attention. Only then did you notice that Gun wasn't moving one of his arms, which was swollen and turning red.

Your movements began to slow down, until they almost stopped. "Don't you dare!" He grunted, legs immediately wrapping around your waist and heels digging into your ass.

"You’re hurt, you need to go to the hospital," you argued, not being able to help but worry, but Gun wasn’t having any of it. Even with one of his arms broken, he moved as nimbly as usual and he easily reversed your positions so that he was now sitting on top of you, your cock not even leaving the heat of his hole. "You're fucking insane!" you moaned at the show of strength. Gun looked damn erotic on top of you, riding you, even with one of his arms limp at his side, wrapped in the long sleeve of your shirt.

"As if you didn't already know that," he replied, the smile wide on his kiss-swollen lips. "I came here to fuck, not get medical advice, so shut up and let me work."

But you just couldn't shut up. "What- ah, happened?" You asked through clenched teeth as you watched Gun's long, firm legs sink into the mattress with each rise and fall, his dick hidden under the shirt forming a wet spot on the fabric.

Gun responded to you without haste, releasing disjointed sentences and words as he mounted you, firmly and quickly, successfully taking the breath away from both of you. “Charles Choi,” he said, and then “fight” and a “brat” that he repeated a few times and that you didn’t think much of until you noticed who it referred to – Daniel.

"Daniel broke your arm?" You repeated his words, your fingers digging into Gun's thighs in a failed attempt to slow him down so you could make sure you heard him right.

Gun's smile seemed to get even bigger, and for the first time, you hated seeing him smiling.

"Why? Jealous?" And only Gun would think anyone would be jealous of someone taking blood and breaking someone else's bones. But then wasn't that what you were feeling? Not anger at Daniel for hurting Gun, but jealousy. Jealousy that you wasn't the one to hurt him, leave your mark behind on Gun's body and that Daniel was the one to get Gun all hot and excited.

That strange, possessive part of your mind stirred - you almost wanted to draw blood from Gun at that moment.

"You’re a slut," you accused, not at all denying Gun’s statement. He chuckled and swiveled his hips in a sensual circle, the good hand resting on your stomach. He was teasing you, you realized.

Then the notion hit you, you didn't need to resort to such methods to mark him as yours, after all, only you were capable of having him like this, naked, in your bed, with hot cheeks and fucking himself on your dick. You had already left your mark implanted deep into his body where you doubted anyone else would ever be able to be.

Your feet dug into the mattress, hips jumping off the bed to slam against Gun's ass. The sound he made was downright obscene, what looked like tears glistening in the corners of his black eyes, the psychotic smile still there. He was yours, it was the first time you noticed. He had chosen to come to you, because no one else knew this slutty side of him, because no one else could feed that side, only you.

Gun fell willingly against your chest, moaning and trying to move back against you, hungry, looking for more of your cock, more of the aggression and pain. Pain. One of your hands rested on his back, keeping him lying on top of you and the other wandered, found Gun's long fingers and then closed around his wrist, tightly and then, you pulled his broken arm.

The scream that came from Gun's throat would forever be etched in your memory; his cock twitched and spilled, further soiling the shirt he was wearing.

At that moment, you knew what you two were, complete lunatics who would always find in each other exactly what they needed. There were no longer any doubts.

#x male reader #x gn reader #x top male reader #top gn reader #x top reader #lookism x reader #lookism fic #lookism x male reader #lookism smut #lookism x you #lookism x gn reader #gun x reader #gun x male reader #gun x gn reader #bottom character

[slutforsilverfoxes]

Behind Closed Doors

[A/N: This lil slice of smut was dreamt up as what happened behind closed doors (lol i’m so funny) during Reporting for Duty. You can read that for context or just enjoy some mindless PWP :) ] Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x wife!reader

__________

You step inside Aaron’s office without bothering to knock, closing the door behind you and abruptly cutting off the raucous cheers of your friends with a smile before turning the lock with a resounding click. Without looking up from his case file, Aaron starts, “I really don’t have time for-”

“Shut up,” you cut him off plainly.

That gets his attention. Aaron sits back in his chair, deigning to look up from his work with his eyebrows raised.

“Excuse me?” His voice has a touch of a challenge in it, the one you wouldn’t dare to play with at home for fear of being punished for outright defiance.

Instead, fueled by your frustration and a responsibility to play the mother of his team, you reply evenly, “You heard me.” Stepping behind Aaron’s desk, you use the arm of his chair to turn him towards you before harshly pushing his legs apart and dropping to your knees between them.

“What are you-”

“What did I just say, Aaron?” you sigh, tone drenched in disapproval. Ignoring the confusion muddling his normally stoic features, you reach forward and unclasp his belt, your nimble fingers expertly working the button and zipper on his slacks to free his already half-hard cock. “Is this why you’re being such a dick?” you tut. “Because your dick needs some attention?”

“Y/N,” he starts, his resolve crumbling before your very eyes as you run your index finger along the prominent vein on the underside of his length. “I’m sorry about- sweetheart-” He loses his train of thought, his weak protest morphing into a stifled moan as you wrap your hand around him in earnest and coax his cock to life.

“Cat got your tongue, Aaron?” You grin up at him, twisting your wrist along his length while he watches you intently with darkening eyes. “All the blood going from that head to this one, huh?” you ask, your warm breath a whisper over his sensitive tip before you dip your tongue into the slit and moan at the taste of him.

“Baby,” he grits out, throwing his head back against the chair when you suckle greedily at the tip.

Looking up at him from beneath your lashes, you coo, “You just needed some stress relief, isn’t that right, Daddy?”

“Yes, angel, yes,” he groans, finally giving in to temptation and wrapping your ponytail around one hand, the other settling on the top of your head. “No more teasing.”

“No?” you ask innocently. “I shouldn’t be mean to you like you were to me?”

Regret momentarily overtakes the lust in his chocolate brown eyes, and Aaron’s mouth drops into a frown. “Sweetheart, I really am-”

You use his knees as leverage to lean up and press a kiss to his lips, murmuring, “I’m just fucking with you.”

His frown deepens and he starts to offer a sincere apology, but you drop back down to your knees and take him fully into your mouth, the words effectively dying on his lips. His remorse evidently forgotten, Aaron’s grip tightens in your hair as he guides you to work his cock the way he likes, a series of quick thrusts followed by a slow drag of your lips along his length.

“Haven’t been inside you in so long,” he growls, and you moan in agreement, the resulting vibration around his cock in your throat forcing him to suck in air between his teeth. “Good girl,” Aaron praises, “just like that.”

He relaxes his grip for a moment, allowing you to pull back and draw in a breath, an obscene string of spit connecting your swollen lips to the reddened tip of his cock. You give a few kitten licks to the head as one hand works the base, the other languidly massaging his balls. “I’ve missed this so much,” you confess in a breathless whisper.

“Don’t you worry, angel,” he murmurs, fingers massaging your scalp while you mouth at him hungrily, “As soon as this case is over, I’ll make up for the nights this week when you’ve only had your vibrator to take care of that sweet little pussy.”

A whimper falls past your parted lips, and you pull your hand away so you can hollow your cheeks and take him down your throat entirely, breathing deeply through your nose as tears spill over your waterline and onto his thighs.

“Stay right there, baby,” Aaron coaches, his breath coming in sharp pants now. You can feel his cock pulsing, and when you realize he’s about to spill down your throat where you won’t even get to taste him, you pull back abruptly, your moan muffled by Aaron’s cum bursting over your tongue. You swallow everything he has to offer with a content hum, only releasing him from your greedy mouth when his hand tugging on your hair forces you to pull back.

You run your thumb across your bottom lip to collect the last of his cum mixed with your saliva before sucking the digit into your mouth. Then you ask with a grin, “Got a clear head now?”

Aaron merely shakes his head at your sinful wordplay, but he can’t hide the smile on his face. Mission accomplished.

__________

AH tags 🖤 @gothwifehotchner @iyv-ray24 @mrs-ssa-hotch @criminalskies @callm3c0nfus3d

#unit chief daddy #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner x reader smut #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotch hotchner #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotch imagine #aaron hotch fanfiction #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner x female reader #aaron hotchner x fem!reader smut #aaron hotchner smut #aaron hotch x you #hotch x female reader #hotch x you #hotch x reader #hotch fanfiction #hotch x y/n #hotch x fem!reader #hotch smut #criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #hotch imagine #hotch #criminal minds smut

[paegei]

PROPOSALS - 95ers

how the 95 liners would propose (fem!reader)

warnings: brief mention of past sex, use of y/n (once), mainly female centric compliments, but can be read with gender neutral reader in mind.

a/n: first attempt at writing fluff,,, why is it so much harder to write than smut ??

seungcheol:

traditional man. takes you to an expensive restaurant, and buys you the best wine you've ever tasted. your friends and family are scattered secretly around the nearby tables, ready to witness / capture the beautiful moment.

today was a very special day. yours and seungcheol's five year anniversary. the fact you had been with him for only five years shocks you, as you can't remember your life before him.

he had been able to get a week off from his crazy schedule, which resulted in the two of you hoping on a plane to head to Paris.

tonight, the night of your anniversary, cheol had purchased a particular dress for you to wear, one that compliments his outfit will, and took you to one of the top rated restaurants near your hotel.

the night started out as it usually would, nothing out of the ordinary. you hadn't gotten tipsy, but the wine had given you a fuzzy feeling in your head, making you much more giggly, to your lovers pleasure.

around about an hour had passed, the two of you now sharing a slice of chocolate cake. seungcheol was staring at you the way he always does, eyes full of nothing but love and admiration. the had been a break in the conversation, cheol and you simply bathing in each others presence.

you take a quick glance around the room, until a noise draws your attention back to your soulmate.

he was now standing, spoon and glass in hand, smirking at you.

"sorry to interrupt everyones lovely dinner, but i have a very special announcement to make." he placed the items down, before turning to address the other patrons.

"today is me and my gorgeous girlfriends five year anniversary !"

the room had erupted into applause.

"but thats not the announcement i wanted to make."

he turns back to you, chuckling slightly at your confused face. god, could you get any cuter ?

"y/n. my darling. my love. five years have passed since i've been able to call you mine. five years of my life spent holding you in my arms. i never want that to end."

he drops on one knee, chuckling at the gasp you let out. he pulls the ring out, and as he does, the first tear rolls down your cheek.

"will you do me the honor, and spent the rest of your life in my arms ?" he is peering up at you, a look of confidence that you know he is using to mask his nerves.

you immediately hop to the ground with him, nodding silently while you sob. the flash of cameras all around you, as well as many cheers of congradulations.

as the two of you stand, you see you are surrounded by your closest loved ones. what a perfect way to end a perfect night.

jeonghan:

private beach at sunset. proposes in a gazebo while you look over at the sea. no doubt in my mind he writes "marry me" in the sand. chuckles at your tears even though he definitely is ugly crying too. has a picnic prepared afterwards.

one thing about you and jeonghan's relationship; you were homebodies. the two of you rarely felt the need to go out and about to feel a connection, majority of the time choosing to stay huddle up and nap together.

today, however, was one of those rare dares where hannie would drag you out of bed for a date. although you tried your hardest to convince him to just do what you usually do for dates (read: sleep.), here you were, in a flowery sundress, walking towards yours and jeonghan's "secret" spot.

the spot in question was a little opening on the beach, far away enough for what most people consider to be a walk. the two of you had found it early on in your relationship, and tested it's level of privacy with some good ol' sex.

you could tell something was off with him today. he seemed... cautious ? hannie ? cautious ? yeah right. he was extra fidgety, and kept checking his appearance before your trek. he was rushing to leave the house too.

turning the corner to find the place the two of you were very familiar with, there was so many unfamiliar things catching your eye. fairy lights had been scattered around, dangling down from the roof of the gazebo. candles had been placed neatly around the edges. a picnic blanket had been laid down on the floor, with a bouquet of flowers resting atop it.

you turned around, ready to ask jeonghan what was going on, when you spotted him on one knee, a nervous smile on his lips as he gazed up at you. you gasped, knees buckling, and jeonghan instinctively held his hand out to ground you.

he giggled at your shocked face. "hey love"

"han i swear to god-" your words were cut off by a sob, your breath hitching.

"'ts okay love. don't cry." his hand holding yours began to rub back and forth on the back of your palm.

"knowing you, being with you, loving you. it has been a dream come true for me. i never thought i would be able to experience the love people craved. i was okay with that thought. until i met you. i want to be with you for the rest of my days... i want to grow old with you. will you let me ?"

without saying anything, you jumped into his arms, sobbing into his shoulder while nodding. you could feel his own tears beginning to hit your skin. you pulled back, looking into his eyes, full of nothing but love and admiration. you were sure yours were conveying the same emotion.

your lips met in a passionate kiss, one the two of you would deem to be the best one you had shared, until your wedding day.

joshua:

balcony while on vacation. planned on asking you during dinner but chickened out. you were slow dancing while it rained, before his love for you overtook his brain, making him spontaneously propose then and there.

the night had been perfect. you see yourself thinking that thought every day that you spend in joshua's arms. but it's true. he brightens up every day of your life.

you had been worried at first. he seemed as though he had something on your mind during dinner. you were petrified you had done something to upset you, but he had assured you it had just been a long week. after his reassurance, the rest of the meal passed as usual, him returning to his charming self.

now, the two of you were found on the balcony of your hotel suite. despite the freezing temperatures the rain had caused, neither of you could find it in yourself to care. you were holding onto each other tightly, your head buried in josh's chest, as his chin rests atop your head. even though there was no music to be heard, the two of you continued your gentle swaying, the rhythm of the rain being the tempo you moved to. the silence was calming.

you felt his chin move from your head, before he pushed you back slightly, just enough to look down into your eyes. his eyes were sparkling, glistening, as per usual, but you soon noticed something else swimming in them. he had tears resting on his lash line, ready to fall at any moment.

concerned you reached up to cradle his face, asking what had bothered him.

"i just love you so much. more than you could ever imagine."

you open your mouth to return the sentiment, but his movement stops you. he pulls something out from his pants pocket, before dropping to one knee. he attempts to say the words he had practiced many times before, but the tightness of his throat stops him.

"i- i love you, y/n, so so much. will... will you marry-"

before he can finish his sentence, your lips crash onto his, the two of you silently sobbing into each others mouths. he breaks off the kiss with a chuckle.

"is that a yes ?" god, his smile could blind you.

"yes, you idiot" yet there was no malice found in your words. his hand comes up to you cheek, to steer you into another passion-filled kiss.

not proof-read ! lmk if there's any mistakes (づ￣ 3￣)づ

#seventeen #seventeen x reader #seventeen fluff #svt #svt x reader #svt fluff #scoups x reader #scoups fluff #jeonghan x reader #jeonghan fluff #joshua x reader #joshua fluff