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upsidedownwithsteve · 9 months

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Simmer #4

CH4. 0800-Awkward | The Menu [4.3K] Eddie Munson x shy fem!reader: a line cook au.

Eddie’s van was cleaner than you expected and it smelled like mint gum and coffee. There were sheets of paper on the passenger seat he cleared for you with quick hands, boyish scrawls of ink noting down recipes and ingredients, a page of music in between.

Music blared from the radio when Eddie turned on the engine and he scowled at the noise, bashing the button to turn it off so you were both squished between awkward silence instead. You put your hands on your lap, sitting up too straight, throat tight.

The quiet enveloped you both.

“Where am I takin’ you?” Eddie asked gruffly once he turned out of the parking lot. The rain was still bouncing off the roads, the sky dark and angry, navy coloured clouds blocking out all the light. “You live near Robin, right?”

You nodded, pulling at your knuckles until you gave in and picked at a nail, nervousness clawing at you like a persistent puppy. The boy beside you made your stomach tumble, and you weren’t quite sure why yet. “Yeah, just off fourth and Maple,” you told him. “But you can drop me off at the pharmacy, it’s only, like, a ten minute walk from there.”

Eddie scoffed at your suggestion, like he’d do no such thing, but he didn’t say anything else. So you spoke instead, your heart in your dry mouth, watching the boy’s profile, wondering how someone so pretty could be so damn mad all the time. Was it just you?

“So, uh, is Wayne your dad?”

Eddie didn’t take his eyes off the road, he just stepped on the accelerator a little too hard when the lights changed from amber to green. When the engine stopped yelling, he answered. “He’s my uncle.”

“Oh.” You didn’t know what else to say. Something told you that asking anything about Eddie’s father would result in a very quiet, very tense ride back to your apartment. “He’s real sweet— your uncle. He’s been super nice to me.”

“Wayne’s nice to everyone,” Eddie replied shortly and it hurt like a kick to the stomach.

The breath left you and you deflated, just a little. The skin around your thumb was becoming raw from your picking. You couldn’t help it, even if you muttered it as you looked out the window. “Clearly it’s not a family trait.”

“What?” Eddie’s voice was all surprise, even the van juddered as he pressed on the brakes a little too hard. You glanced over at him, chin ducked down, fingers torturing the ones on your other hand. Eddie was all raised brows and parted lips, an almost curl of amusement on them. “What did you say?”

It was a dare, a challenge. A ‘go on, say that again. Are you brave enough?’

You glared at him, just like he loved to do to you so often. “I said, clearly, it’s not a family trait.”

“What does that mean?” Eddie laughed, a rough bark that told you he didn’t actually find you funny at all.

You were a built up dam, spilling over the top with a new job, new friends, a new apartment in a new town. It was scary. It had been hard.

You burst.

“You’re so mean to me,” you told him hotly, “all the time! And then you apologise, only for it to last until the end of your shift. I know I’m not like, the best waitress— I mean, I’m hardly Nancy, but I’m trying! I— I haven’t done anything to you.” You sniffed, you wobbled. Tears threatened you both and your voice came out a little higher now. “Have I? If I have, I didn’t mean to.”

You dragged a hand over your face and when you looked back to the boy, Eddie looked horrified. He was pink in the face, eyes darting from you to the road and back again, his finger curling around the steering wheel with a white knuckle grip. He didn’t say anything.

“This is so fucking stupid,” you muttered to your lap and when Eddie slowed to the next stop sign, you flung a hand onto the door handle. “Just drop me here.”

The sound of the rain slapping the pavement only grew louder when you managed to open the door a crack and it seemed to spur Eddie into action. He leaned over you and grabbed at your hand, using it to pull the door shut again. It snapped back into place and Eddie was scowling when you swore at him in return. “Fucking Christ, woman,” he huffed. “I’m takin’ you home, alright? You’ll drown out there.”

“It’s a bit of rain, Eddie,” you snapped. “I lived in Chicago, I’ll survive some water.” Your ferocity was short lived, because you gave in with a huff, eyes watering once more as you pressed yourself against the seat and crossed your arms in defeat.

There was a voice in your head, someone from an old job, an old classmate in middle school, your mom. It didn’t matter who, they were all cruel. Cry baby, cry baby, cry baby.

“Can you just - fuck - can you just let me talk?”

You watched as Eddie licked his lips, maybe out of nerves and he gripped the steering wheel harder still. You thought he’d maybe yell at you, maybe he’d tell you exactly why he was so hot and cold with you, maybe he’d explain in detail why you’d managed to piss him off.

Instead, he asked, “why’d you leave Chicago?”

You stared at him. Was he joking? Was he playing some kind of weird joke? But Eddie waited, his face a pretty picture of sincerity and he glanced at you from the road as often as safety would let him.

“Uh, I didn’t like it,” you scrunched your face at the memory, nose wrinkling in distaste. “Too big, too loud. I don’t really—” you searched for the right word, one that wouldn’t make you sound weak and small. “I don’t enjoy big cities. They’re too much.”

Eddie nodded and suddenly, suddenly, you were having a conversation with him. “I get that. My mom moved to Philadelphia, I don’t see her much, but I used to visit when I was a kid. Hated that no matter what time of night it was, it was never quiet - or dark - fuckin’ lights everywhere.”

There was a silence before you pressed your lips together and hummed. “Yeah,” you agreed. “You could never see the stars in Chicago. I missed that.”

The rain was letting up now, nothing more than a horrible drizzle that you knew would still soak you to the bone, but it was quieter. Softer. The sky turned lilac, a hazy kind of purple blue as the sun tried to break through.

“Where did you grow up?” Eddie peered through his curls at you, his fingers unfurling from the death grip he had on the wheel. He turned down Main Street, one hand in his lap, his head leaning back against the chair. “I know it wasn’t here - would’ve remembered you.”

“Fortville,” you told him, wondering if you just kept talking, your heart would stop racing at what he’d just said to you. “With my parents. It was a tiny place, not much there, probably even smaller than Hawkins and we had chickens and a dog my mom rescued just before I was born. I liked it though, it was a nice place to grow up.”

“Why’d you leave?”

You shrugged, turned to look out the window at the spots of rain on the glass, the kaleidoscope of colours they made now the sun shone through them. “Dad left, found another family. Mom turned mean.” You didn’t elaborate more than that and Eddie noticed how your voice turned softer, even quieter.

“Fair enough,” Eddie answered and you couldn’t help but notice that when he wasn’t frowning, when the lines between his brows were gone, his eyes were the colour of dark chocolate, big and earnest looking. “I can, uh, relate. Kinda.”

A comfortable silence passed after that, one that came with the break of the clouds, dark shadows giving way to a late evening sunset, turning the wet sidewalks golden. You could feel Eddie stealing glances at you, quick flickers of his eyes that went from your face to where your fingers were picking at your nails on your lap.

“You haven’t— you haven’t done anything to me,” Eddie murmured. You looked up at the sound of his voice, nails forgotten about and you saw that flush on his cheeks rise over his nose, turning it pink. He licked his lips and you tracked the movement, feeling the nerves roll off of him and fill the space between you. “You haven’t done anything wrong. I don’t, I didn’t mean to be… mean.”

Eddie parked the van and you blinked, not even realising that he’d stopped on your street. Your apartment building was just a little down the road, waiting.

“You lied to me when I came in that day,” you squinted at the boy, both of you cringing at the memory of Eddie pretending that he wasn’t who he was. That he wasn’t who you were looking for. “Why? Why did you do that?”

Eddie turned a deeper shade of pink, cheeks burning and he fumbled over his words before he swallowed harshly and turned towards you in his seat. He tugged at his curls, unsure what to do with his hands now he didn’t have the wheel to grip. “I’m, shit, I’m sorry ‘bout that. That was— that was just. Stupid.”

You nodded, looking at him with sad eyes that seemed to make his brow knit together in despair.

“I don’t, uh, I don’t do well with like, making friends?” Eddie offered an explanation that he didn’t seem to be able to admit easily. He cleared his throat awkwardly and tried to smile at you, tried to ease the feeling of guilt that was swarming him. “I get stuck in my ways, y’know? I just go to work, go home, go back to work— new things—” Eddie glanced over at you with those big eyes. “—new people, make me kinda, nervous. I guess.”

You let your gaze settle on his, watching as he took in a breath and blinked. He looked a little dizzy, his confession making the air a little lighter. But something else lingered. It felt like glitter, a sparkling, pretty thing that swirled in the front space of the van. It was hopeful.

“I get nervous too. Shy,” you admitted. You felt nervous now, tummy tumbling, a whole aviary loose inside. “About a lot of things.” About you, is what you didn’t say. “But I’m not a dick about it.”

Eddie snorted and the sound made your lip quirk up, an almost smile. Eddie nodded, like he was agreeing with your passive insult, his lips twisting as he looked you over once more. His gaze was warmer than you’d seen it before, no furrow between his brow to make you wonder if he was pissed at you. Now he just looked… interested.

“You’re right,” he announced. “Yeah, yeah, you’re right. I’ve been a dick. I’m sorry.”

“You said sorry earlier,” you reminded him. “With breakfast. But then you were a dick all over again. This hot and cold is making my head hurt.” You fiddled with the hem of your uniform dress, lifting powder blue away from your knee to pick at a loose thread.

“I did, didn’t I?” The boy let his head fall back onto the window, a dull thud, curls sticking to the glass that was all fogged up from you both sitting talking. The setting sun made him golden, peach coloured cheeks and honey eyes, all bronze shadows and inky lines over his arms, peeking out from his T-shirt. “Was it good? Your breakfast?”

You rolled your eyes and Eddie grinned, truly, he beamed at you. It was a flirtatious thing, a pretty thing - it made your heart pick up and your breath catch in your throat because it was so fucking unexpected.

“Yes, it was good,” you murmured, back to shy, back to dipping your chin and not really being able to look him in the eye. “But that’s not the point.”

“You’re right,” he said again. The boy seemed so much more agreeable out of his chef whites, without the heat and the noise and the constant sizzle of the kitchen. “I really am sorry - I hate, fuck, I hate that I didn’t make you feel welcome. That was shitty of me.”

You sniffed, pulled the thread loose and watched baby blue spring and curl around your finger. “It was.”

Eddie looked hopeful when you finally found the courage to meet his gaze again. He gave you a slow shrug, a half smile that still didn’t look fully sure. But he tried anyway.. “Can we start again?” He moved, shifting closer to you, close enough that the stick shift was pressing against the slight pudge of his tummy and you could smell his cologne, could see the freckles on the bridge of his nose. He held out his hand for you, silver rings and all. “Hi, I’m Eddie.”

He waited with wide eyes for you to reach out too, to slip your hand into his and curl your fingers around his palm. He did the same, engulfing you. His hands were much warmer, wider, bigger. Calloused and with silver scars, no doubt from too sharp knives.

“It’s nice to meet you.”

—————

You burst through the kitchen doors just as you broke. A burn in the corner of your eyes, a hollow thud in your chest as the adrenaline of being yelled at surged through you. A family with too many kids to keep track of, a plate of fries on the floor before you could bring out every meal, a stressed out mother who took out her frustration on you and the fact you’d forgotten the soda one of the small boys was yelling about. She was sharp about it, loud enough for the other customers to hear and you watched as Robin frowned from the booth she was serving.

She grabbed your elbow as you passed, feet threatening to stumble with how quick you moved, cheeks hot, throat tight. “I’ll get it,” she whispered. “Take a minute.”

But you shook your head, not trusting yourself to speak before you could suck in a breath. “S’fine. It’s fine. I’ll fix it.”

So you let the kitchen door hit the wall as you almost ran in, eyes blinking back tears of embarrassment and the noise was enough for Eddie to look up from the grill where he was flipping burgers. He frowned at the sight of you, but this time, he looked concerned. You rushed past him to grab the glass of soda that was sitting forgotten on a tray - next to the extra basket of fries the woman had requested, fuck - and turned on your heel to go back out the way you came.

“Hey,” Eddie called after you, “what’s wrong?”

You brushed him away with a raised hand, the other holding the tray of missed items and you didn’t trust yourself to look back at the boy as you rushed back out the door. You sniffed and blinked before you put on a smile, approaching the woman who’d loudly berated you in front of the entire diner.

“I’m so sorry again,” you whispered as you placed the drink and fries on the messy table. One of the kids screamed and you flinched, trying your best to keep the smile on your face as the woman turned to you. “If there’s anything else I can get you, ju—”

“If there’s anything else I need, I’ll get it myself,” she scoffed meanly. Her voice was too sharp, still too loud, a biting thing that dug into your arm and wouldn’t let go. “You got a pretty face, honey, but that’s not gonna get you far. Can hear that empty space in that head from all the way over here.”

You blinked again, uncaring that a tear slipped out, a hot drip of water down one cheek. You kept smiling. In fact, you smiled all the way back into the kitchen before your breath stuttered and your face crumpled.

“Hey, hey, c’mon.” Eddie. At your side, a hand catching your elbow, fingertips grazing your skin like he was still too unsure to hold you fully. “C’mere. It’s fine.”

He led you through the kitchen, hand guiding you so your blurry eyes didn’t lead you into the corner of a station. There was something spicy cooking in a pan, garlic and chilli and soy that Argyle took over stirring as Eddie left it alone in favour of you. Jim must’ve heard the commotion in the dining room, ‘cause he made a rare appearance outside of his office, hand holding onto the door frame as he leaned out, frowning at what he saw.

“Chicago,” he called through the kitchen, voice booming over the radio, the sizzle of the grill, the drone of the vents. “You good? You wanna talk?”

You turned, bumping into Eddie’s side and shaking your head, all whilst trying to smile and appear like you were absolutely fine. Totally normal. Definitely not crying like a baby. You cringed, turning back around and ducking your chin to hide your glossy eyes, your wet cheeks.

“S’fine, Jim,” Eddie called back. “I’ve got her. Jus’ give us five minutes.”

“Munson, you got burgers on!” Your boss called back, you heard him sigh and Argyle told him that he’d manage.

“Five minutes!” Eddie said again, his voice sharper and louder than before and you were moving faster to the back door, bypassing the walk in altogether.

“If they burn, that’s too much money to get thrown in the trash, Eddie,” Hopper complained. “That’s prime fuckin’ beef from the Sinclairs, Eddie and I don’t got time to get Lucas back out for another delivery— hey! Are you listen—”

Eddie ushered you out of the fire exit, blue skies and too bright light making you squint, a rush of hot air that was heavier than the kitchen, muggy and smelling like cut grass and the smoke that came from the vent on the wall. The door snapped shut before Jim could finish talking.

The silence was a warm thing, cloying like the summer afternoon, the edge of a heatwave, the steam from the kitchen that lingered in the small alleyway out back. You brought the heels of your palms to your eyes, pushing there meanly as you sniffed a little wetly and tried to stop your bottom lip from trembling. If you faced the crumbling wall, maybe you could pretend Eddie wasn’t there, watching you.

“Hey, c’mon.”

You groaned.

“C’mon,” Eddie coaxed again, his hand pulling at your wrist, urging you to stop hiding. “You gotta stop letting customers get you all upset like this. ‘Specially the ones that are utter assholes.”

“You heard her?” You asked weakly, embarrassment crawling up your neck. You knew he would’ve, shit, Wayne probably heard it all the way down the street. Of course Eddie heard it from the kitchen. “God, that’s so—” you let out a small groan of anger, a soft wail that was tinged with a little shame.

“No, no, stop that,” Eddie frowned as you buried your face in your hands once more. He got you by your shoulders, palms and fingers curling over the bone there, impossibly wide, engulfing. You turned soft for him, letting him manhandle you until you were facing him, brows crinkled, your cheeks warm. “She was a bitch. You’re okay, it’s alright.”

You sucked in another breath, one of those awful ones that hitched and made your throat close up a little. It was hard to look into Eddie’s eyes. They were big and warm and earnest, crazily so, the colour of burnt honey and he was painfully close. The alleyway pushed you both together, space limited between the walls, the empty pallets, the stacked up crates.

“She was out of order, yeah?” Eddie continued softly, his thumb pushing softly into the meat of your shoulder, drawing circles through your uniform. “You didn’t do anything wrong. We’re all just human here, Chicago. It’s fine.”

You nodded, numb. Tears still stained your hot cheeks, salt gathering in the corners of your mouth and you felt embarrassed at the reaction, the white hot rush of anxiety that gripped the back of your neck as soon as someone raised their voice at you. You blinked again, feeling heavy, another fresh wave of tears making your vision turn into kaleidoscopes. You scrunched your face, annoyed with yourself, head tilting back to the strip of blue sky you could see between the buildings roofs.

“God, I’m so fucking lame,” you groaned. “So stupid.”

You brought your chin back down to just catch the boy smiling, a dopey, soft thing that made you think he was gonna laugh at you. He did, but it wasn’t mean. In fact, Eddie’s laugh was a damn pretty thing. Scratchy and raspy and warm, enough to make you stop screwing your face up and blink at him.

“You’re not lame,” he told you firmly. He dropped his hands from your shoulders now that you weren’t intent on hiding. You found you missed the weight of them on you, a grounding feeling that helped the tears subside. “Or stupid. Shit, kid, you gotta stop being so hard on yourself.”

“I’m always forgetting stuff though,” you argued. The sun was a blazing thing above you both, hot on your head, your shoulders, the back of your neck. Your uniform itched under the heat and you were backing away into the shadows along the line of the diner wall. Eddie followed, shoulder to shoulder as he leaned against the brick, lounging enough to bring him to the same height as you. “I’m messing up orders and I keep walking into the same stupid table - even though it’s always there! I got a bruise on my hip the size of a fucking peach,” you grumbled unhappily.

Eddie snorted at hearing you swear, a cannonball of a word coming out of your sweet mouth, usually talking softly and shyly at him and customers. He knocked your shoulder with his and tutted. “You’re still new,” he shrugged when you scoffed. You’d been at the diner for almost two months. “Get out of here with that, you are. You’re in a new town and a new job. Give yourself a break.”

“I’m just— god.” You bit down on your bottom lip until it hurt. “I’m such a crybaby, I hate it. I must look like such a mess.” Your eyes felt sore, your cheeks puffy and warm, all too familiar and just as embarrassing as it was when you were ten, fifteen, twenty years old.

Eddie just shrugged, shoving his hands in the pockets of his chef whites. He looked at your face, just for a second, before ducking his chin and studying the concrete below his feet. “Nah,” he said quietly, “you look pretty like always.”

It was quiet for a second or two, the surprise on your face morphing into a crooked smile, a quirk of one corner of your lips at the boy’s words. You sniffed and laughed a little watery, a shy sounding thing that made Eddie blink at you. “You’re being nice to me,” you told him.

He grinned like he couldn’t help himself, a sharp, sudden thing that made his face look even prettier. Curls spilled from his poorly tied bun and his cheeks went rose coloured, more blush than flushed from the heat. He knitted his brows together in faux confusion, tried to act too cool, too blasé. “I am, aren’t I?” He huffed. “Weird.”

You shoved at him in jest, your hand on his shoulder and he barely even budged. But you felt a thrill in touching him, your hand just by the muscles in his arm, where you knew a tattoo lay, curling around a bicep that you couldn’t see under his uniform. It was easy to joke like this, to smile and wipe your eyes one last time when Eddie was playing nice.

You felt like a teen with a crush, that lovesick, giddy type of softness settling in your chest and it purred when you looked at the boy. This wasn’t the plan. This wasn’t supposed to happen. But Eddie got prettier when he smiled at you and when he reached out to straighten the pen that was about to call out of your chest pocket, you were done. A goner.

You wanted to ask if this made you friends.

Instead, you swallowed your embarrassment and hoped you hadn’t been staring. “Thank you,” you murmured shyly. “You didn’t have to do this.”

Eddie pulled open the fire exit and waited for you to enter first, holding open the door as the noise of the diner flooded back out to you. Kids yelling, the grill popping, the coffee machine whirring.

“Would you rather Jim gave you one of his famous three minute counselling sessions?” Eddie winced theatrically. “I haven’t had one myself, but rumour has it there’s a stress ball and some talk about toughening up and how the world just ain’t fair.”

You laughed, walking back into the kitchen with Eddie by your side. Your shoulder brushed against his arm and you shook your head, looking up at him with a heat in your cheeks you were sure he’d be able to notice. “No, m’glad it was you.”

You must’ve surprised the boy, because he blinked as he stopped at the grill. Argyle had flipped all the patties and left the spatula by the countertop but Eddie didn’t take his eyes off of you as he grasped it. You watched his brows lift a little, mouth parting before he closed it again and nodded, looking a little numb.

And then: “cool. Yeah, no, good. Come get me next time too.”

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woso-dreamzzz · 5 months

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Hurt II

Hardersson x Child!Reader

Part of The Big Adventures Universe

Summary: Sam feels terrible

Sam hides away for two days after you fall.

She's watched the video so many times now that it's imprinted on her eyelids when she closes them. It's horrifying to look at, you slipping down the stairs, your head hitting each one of them until you're sprawled out by Emma and Jessie's feet at the very bottom.

It's been radio silent from Magda and Pernille and everyone knows better to ask if they're going to be training next week. Emma's already given them enough paid leave to stay at home with you until you're fully recovered.

Eventually, after days of silence, someone on the team must have called Kristie because Sam gets a phone call that essentially tells her to get up off her ass and go to Magda and Pernille's house to either apologise again or beg for forgiveness.

Thoughts swirl in her mind as she approaches the house. The thought at the very forefront is if Magda will ever leave you alone with her again.

You've got an infectious energy that she loves and seeing your broken little body at the bottom of the stairs was traumatising.

Her hands shakily reach up to the door knocker, a cardboard box tucked under her arm as she waits.

It swings open within the minute and Sam feels glad that it's Pernille and not Magda that answered.

"Sam?" Pernille looks confused. "Has something happened?"

"Er...No...I mean, no? Well, I hope not." Sam knows she's rambling now but she can't stop herself, feeling so uncharacteristically nervous that she almost cries.

Pernille seems to notice as well because she stops blocking the hallway. "Do you want to come in?"

Sam toes her shoes off in the doorway and peers inside properly.

The first thing she notices is the way that every sharp corner in the house is covered in either soft fabric or bubble wrap. The second thing she notices is Magda, sitting on the floor with you held possessively between her legs. The third thing, of course, is you. You've got a big bandage stuck to your forehead and your every movement is a little slow and sluggish.

All of your hard plastic toys are packed away in the corner of the room. The only ones you're touching are the soft ones that you couldn't injure yourself with even on accident.

The tension between Sam and Magda feels frosty and Sam tries not to feel the anxiety drop in her stomach when Magda holds you a little tighter when she notices Sam standing there.

Having Magda as her Captain is good most of the time. Magda can be firm sometimes but still fair. She rarely gets angry enough that it impedes her professionalism but the one exception is always you.

Sam can understand. It's a different situation to her and Kristie but there are still parallels. Magda spent so many of your first few years in London, only seeing you on long weekends or through a phone screen. Sam can only really do the same with Kristie and she already knows that anger that swells in her chest when she sees Kristie injured on the pitch.

She can only imagine that those feelings are amplified when it's you, Magda's only daughter, lying bloody and broken in the stadium.

"What's in the box, Sam?" Pernille asks, also noting the tension and refusing to comment on it.

"Oh...er...For y/n," She replies awkwardly.

Sam sits across from you, not nearly close enough to be in the range of Magda's legs but close enough that even your sluggish nature can keep track of her.

"As an apology."

Magda's eyes narrow but she doesn't say anything.

Sam takes it as an invitation, opening up the flaps of the book and pulling out the toys she had gathered. She hadn't been too sure what to get for a kid recovering from a head injury so had Kristie on facetime while she shopped.

She must at least get something right because you seem interested when she pulls out more stuffed animals for your collection. There's an emu just for the fun of it and some kangaroos too but you're especially interested in the koala bear that's right at the bottom.

You stand on shaky feet (shakier than Sam's ever seen you) and try to wander over. You can't though because Magda catches you by the waist and holds you close.

"Magda," Pernille says, her voice low in warning.

Magda relents with a huff and lets you go towards Sam. You make it two steps before you've seemingly exhausted yourself and crawl over.

Up close, your bandage looks even worse and Sam's sure that she can just about make out the bruise poking out from under it. She almost shudders in disgust at herself but with Magda looking like she's a second away from snapping you into her arms again, Sam doesn't.

"It's a koala," She says instead.

You blink up at her, crinkle in your brow as you try to translate her words. It's slower than usual and Sam knows that this concussion must be really bad. You're somewhat of a language prodigy, picking everything up like a sponge.

"Koala," You echo, brushing a finger over the little Steve Irwin-esque hat the toy is wearing," Koala."

"Yeah, koala."

Sam digs around in the box again, bringing out a soft blanket and pillow she had eyed up when she went shopping a few weeks ago.

"This is for you too."

You take it slowly before rubbing the blanket over your face.

Sam looks to Magda and Pernille - who has curled herself into Magda's side and is holding one of her hands.

"I...Er...I read somewhere that kids with concussions get tired a lot."

"That's very thoughtful, Sam," Pernille praises before elbowing Magda in the gut," Isn't that right, Magda?"

"Yeah," Magda grunts," It is."

It's very clear that she's still very annoyed at Sam for what's happened but isn't willing to say anything with you in the room.

You stand up on your shaky feet again, clutching the blanket in one hand and the koala in the other. You stumble forward and Sam watches as both of your mothers surge forward.

Pernille gets there first, pulling you securely into her body and tucking your face into her neck. "Okay, okay, princesse," She says quietly as you fidget and whine," We're gonna stay right here for a moment, alright? No walking."

You struggle weakly against her hold before sagging as a wave of exhaustion comes over you.

Sam watches as Pernille settles fully on the floor, wrapping you up tightly in the blanket as you lay on her. You're still holding the koala, rubbing it over your cheeks and letting out happy little giggles at the soft feeling.

At Sam's staring, Pernille explains," She's been exhausted lately...because of the concussion. She doesn't have the energy to do a lot of the things she likes to."

Sam gnaws at her cheek, flashing back to how disorientated and confused you were when you first got hurt. "Her walking-"

"She's getting better," Magda cuts her off, still glaring," She's doing fine. She's good. She's recovering. There's nothing more to say."

Her tone is firm and makes it clear she doesn't want to talk about your symptoms. Pernille lays a hand on her shoulder and Magda settles for a moment before pulling you into her arms. You end up in the same position you were in when Sam arrived, sitting between Magda's legs and leaning back comfortably against her.

"Koala," You say again, slowly like you're sounding out the letters," Koala."

"Ja," Magda says," Koala."

"Koala."

You stare at it for a moment before sighing a great big huff and pulling the blanket over your head.

"Nap time," Pernille says quietly. She takes you back from Magda, keeping your head covered as she moves to lie on the sofa.

You don't fight like you normally do and a lump forms in Sam's chest when Magda stares at her for a moment before indicating that they leave the room.

They end up in the hallway, with Magda closing the door so you're impromptu nap won't be interrupted.

"That's my kid," She says finally," My only child."

"I'm-I'm sorry."

"And she got hurt. On your watch. You said that you would get her back to the changing room. I trusted you. Pernille trusted you."

"I know. I'm sorry."

Magda sighs, hands clenched into fists and, for a moment, Sam wonders if she'll swing. "I've watched that video so many times. And..." There's silence for a moment. "And she slipped on a bit of ice. You couldn't have caught her."

Sam freezes in shock. That wasn't what she expected Magda to say. "Wh-What?"

"What I'm saying is...I'm sorry for throwing you against the wall. And I'm sorry for yelling at you like that. It's just...She's my kid and it scared me."

"I..." Sam has to take a moment to collect her thoughts. "I'm sorry too. For everything."

Magda nods. "Thank you, for coming over with the toys. I'm sure when she feels better, she'll thank you properly too."

The thank you from you comes barely half an hour after you've woken up from your nap. Pernille guides you over to Sam, who has been allowed to stay just a bit longer by Magda.

You sit in her lap, your new blanket draped around your shoulders and still clutching your koala. You're unbelievably sluggish and your crinkle is more present on your face than ever before.

Somehow, you've roped Sam into playing with you - though Pernille looks incredibly worried when you try to stand up by yourself and nearly crash into the side of the coffee table.

Your speech is slightly slurred though, lacking your usual fluency as you make your emu peck at your koala. Your head rolls slightly off to the side sometimes, as if you've suddenly realised that it's heavy and you can't hold it up. Sometimes, you even try to brush hair out of your face but tap at your bandage, leaving you to pull away and stare at your open palm in confusion.

You hum as you glance around the room - at the soft corners of your house and the pile of soft, fuzzy things that have accumulated around you.

"Than...Thank you," You manage to get out eventually after several long seconds of nothing," Thank you, Sam, for-for my...for my presents."

It's slow and halting at times and your voice is incredibly quiet but Sam still manages a smile.

"You're welcome, kid. I'm glad you're feeling better."

You smile softly - it's more of a lift of the corner of your mouth than a true smile but Sam takes it. "Not too better," You say, turning yourself so you're pressed against Sam's chest, voice dropping so Magda and Pernille couldn't hear you," 'Cause I get to sleep in the Big Bed when I'm hurt."

Sam chuckles. "Really?"

"Uh-huh. Wanna sleep...sleep in the Big Bed forever."

#woso x reader #hardersson x reader #pernille harder x reader #pernille harder #magdalena eriksson x reader #magdalena eriksson #sam kerr x reader #sam kerr #woso community #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso #The Big Adventures Universe

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ashen-char · 12 days

Text

i say that i hate you with a smile on my face 🔞

ship: amber freeman (scream) x gender neutral reader

warnings: explicit smut so minors get out. hate sex, sex while driving

summary: amber is furious after seeing you with another girl at a party. the only way to deal with her jealousy is to fuck it out of her.

word count: 2700+

By the time the party ends, it's almost 3am. Early hours have always felt so strange to you, so mysterious that liminal time past midnight and before the sun rises. Everything feels slower. Less alive, almost. There aren't any other cars on the street, aren't any lights on in the houses you pass as you make your way back to Amber's.

The radio is off and the streets are quiet. You almost wish that Amber would go right back to yelling at you because at least it wouldn't be this mind-numbing silence. You're so tense, shoulders stiff and defensive, your grip a vice on the wheel.

You had danced with another girl, sure.

Chad had introduced you to some new girl that Liv had befriended and told to come. You can't even remember what her name was. When Liv got roped into a night shift and couldn't go, she'd told her friend to stick to a familiar face.

Really, you think that Chad just wanted to ditch her on you so that Liv wouldn't tear him a new one for leaving her friend while he got wasted. You owed Chad a solid for helping you score a reservation at some fancy restaurant for you and Amber's anniversary after you forgot it, and you didn't see the harm. That was your first mistake.

Amber's expression is unreadable, her grip white-knuckled on her knee as she stares out the window of your car. Speaking first would feel like you lost - you still don't think you did anything wrong, feels that Amber's reaction was way too far. And you're stubborn. But Amber is even more so. And your relationship is more valuable than winning... whatever this is, so

"I didn't do anything," you say for what feels like the hundredth time that night.

"You hear how you sound right now?" Amber snarls, her own shoulders tensing up. "That's what everyone says when they're caught. I didn't do anything," she imitates your voice in a whine.

Mocking you? How mature.

Letting go of her knee, Amber folds her arms over her chest, looking away from you again. You can see her roll her eyes and scoff a “whatever” under her breath.

You grit your teeth. Possible responses whir through your brain - a joke, an apology, something to diffuse the situation. You know what you should do, know that Amber’s only jealous because she’s desperate for reassurance from you. But God is it exhausting navigating Amber's complex emotions when she doesn't even care if she hurts yours.

Tonight was supposed to be fun for fuck’s sake. You were supposed to go to a party and have a blast, not get into another stupid argument.

Amber hasn't apologised a single time since you two started dating. She hasn't once promised she'd be better like you always do for her. She had yelled at you the second you two left the party, fighting from the porch all the way to the car. She wouldn’t hear you out even once as you were vehemently denying her accusations. You truly believe that you shouldn’t be the one to apologise. Not this time.

So this time, you don't do that. Your hand reaches out, sliding over to the passenger seat until you're grazing Amber's thigh. "What did you think you saw me do, huh?" you say.

“What are you-”

"You think I touched her?" Your fingers trail their way up. The fabric of her leggings is thin, so you can feel the heat of Amber’s skin as you caress her inner thigh. It’s a tease, a war of nerves, wondering when the other will give in. "Like this?"

Amber's still worked up, blood still pumping; the adrenaline from the argument is rushing through her veins. But you know that no matter how pissed off she is at you, there’s no way she’d push you away. You swear she actually moves closer.

“You would,” Amber challenges. “You know, if I knew you were gonna be another unfaithful piece of shit, I wouldn’t have agreed to go out with you.”

You can tell from her tone that she’s trying to rile you up on purpose. Like she’s enjoying getting under your skin. She wants you as heated as she is so it becomes a level playing field. Amber does this whenever you two have a fight, like she's just waiting for you to blow up at her so you feel as insane as she does about you. You know it's all coming from the same place as the jealousy does. She feels so fucking much about you that she's begging for more. Needs retribution so bad. Needs to feel something.

"Sometimes I swear you start fights out of nowhere on purpose," you say. On her upper inner thigh now, your hand squeezes, almost hard enough to bruise. Your thumb runs up down, up down, never quite getting close enough to where she wants it. "Because you like when I touch you while you pretend to hate my guts."

"You're an idiot. Why would I want you to touch me?" Amber clenches her thighs, holding your hand in place, preventing it from slipping back down. You can hear how her breathing gets laboured. She's too stubborn to admit that she wants you to keep going, but you both know it. She can't help the mix of hatred and lust that fuels her veins right now. "I do hate you. I hate you so goddamn much."

A red light. You breathe out in relief.

Finally, your attention doesn't need to be split between the road and this argument. You can see the smile on her face as she swears that she hates you. Good. That wild look in her eyes tells you that you can be more aggressive with her. Amber loves that.

Your hand slips up right where she wants it, until you're cupping at her center. Only a thin scrap of fabric separate your fingers from the cunt you love so much. You could do it. You could tear through her leggings and fuck the shit out of her. Amber's legs part for you and you swear you hear her whimper.

"What would you do if I did flirt with her, huh?" you say. "Would you break up with me?"

"Fuck you," she spits, though with her shortness of breath it sounds more like a plead. "I bet you wanted to get her to some spare room. You're desperate enough. Were you hoping to get your fingers wet with some other bitch even when you went there with your girlfriend?"

Her mouth is so filthy. You should do something about that. Amber shouldn't be allowed to talk right now. "What's your fucking problem? I was with you all night!"

God, this is fun. Amber's grinning and her eyes shine, the golden light coming in from the streetlights and making everything glow. You squeeze. The meat of your palm is grinding up against her clit but it isn't enough. Not with all that clothing between you. She moans, clenching her legs once more, needing more pressure there.

"You're my problem!" Amber shrieks.

Fuck.

The second you're about to leap in and devour Amber in a kiss, the light you're stopped at turns green. The car behind you honks and you're forced to turn your attention back to the road. Amber lets out a frustrated groan at that - that stupid honking throwing the moment entirely.

"You know what, screw this," she says. You hear Amber unclick her seatbelt, and before you can tell her to strap back in she grabs your hand.

"What are you-" You barely get the words out before your hand is shoved down into her leggings.

Amber's soaked. She's as sticky and warm as the last time you touched her, and you know just how good she'd taste right now too. It isn't your dominant hand - that one is busy on the wheel - so you actually haven't touched her with this one before. It's unfamiliar territory and the same all at once. She pushes her panties to the side with her own hand but it'll be yours that she makes do all the work.

"Shut up. I need this." A low guttural sound escapes her lips as she finally, finally feels your hand where she wants it. Her head tilts back and you feel her thighs squeeze at that first sharp sensation of pleasure. "Shut your mouth and drive," she practically hisses.

You have to focus on the road. The guy behind you is already pissed from how slow you were to keep driving after the green light, and how Amber had given him the middle finger. He's driving so close behind you know that a single slip up could mean a crash. You're so fucked. Especially your fingers, which Amber is sliding her slit up and down on, collecting her wetness with a satisfying shlick.

"Amber," you try to warn. As hot as this is, you do not want to get into an accident because your girlfriend was just so horny during a fight.

Her mouth hangs open in pleasure as she rubs her clit against your palm. It's so much better when you can feel her. You wish you could turn to look. But you can feel Amber's eyes on you, probably still glaring at you with the same hateful glare she had earlier.

"She wouldn't be this wet for you," she tells you.

The girl at the party could not be further from your mind right now. "I don't give a shit about her," you admit. "God, you're so wet, baby." You can feel your own excitement between your legs, can see how your windows are starting to fog up as both of your breaths heat the air.

She lets out a moan, closing her eyes and tilting her head back. "That's right. Because you're mine." Her nails dig into the flesh of your forearm, a threat to scratch you up if you so much as attempt to move away.

Your fingers slip inside. Two at once. Amber normally likes to play the long game and build up to more, letting you tease her with one sliding in and out until she screams at you for more. But the thrill of the danger and anger and jealousy is getting to both of you. Her hips grind and wind as she rides your fingers, while your other hand desperately grips onto the wheel as you will yourself to concentrate on the road.

"Say it," Amber breathes out. "You're only mine."

A part of you thinks that'd be no fun. "You should've trusted me," you say instead. It's so much more fun when she's seething. It's like her anger is heating up her insides. She feels different. You curve your fingers inside her and she cries out.

"Fuck!"

"Yeah? You loving my fingers in your pussy?" You wriggle the two until you're pressing at the spot that always drives Amber crazy. But it's clumsy. You never use this hand and eventually it'll cramp up and get tired. You know you're doing your job well when she digs her nails in even harder and her hips thrust. Neither of you give a shit when the car behind you honks and overtakes you.

She's too wound up right now, too far gone. Her mouth twists into a vicious smile that you can't see, but you can hear it in her voice. "Y-you wish," Amber struggles out. "You think you're so good. I'm using you here, not the other way around."

She rides your fingers like that for a few minutes. As you had suspected, the lack of practice means that your forearm is already getting tired. As hot as this is, you can't pump as easily as you could if you were on a bed, not worrying about driving. You can tell that Amber is getting frustrated. Maybe that's making it better.

Everything is a blur of rage and lust until you realise you've driven right past her house. Whatever. You're dying to stop the goddamn car and set Amber right. You slam the brakes now that there's no car behind you to hit, sending the car lurching to a stop. Your fingers slide deeper into her cunt with the movement and it makes her scream.

You pull into a residential side street, one even quieter than the rest. Finding a spot to turn off the engine and throw the car into park is easy enough when your brain is putting I need to fuck her right now over safety.

The second that ignition goes off, Amber is already on you. You slip your tired hand away, the other going to her leggings and slipping them off. Her expression is still twisted in that rage that never quite goes away - she hates you, she hates you, she hates you - but she loves you so much when you shove three fingers into her.

You feel her tongue invading your mouth, probing and searching, while her hands continue to grip and claw at your clothes. It's like she's trying to claim you; she wants to take away all evidence of you being your own person, to take away your control.

"Is this what you wanted?" Amber whispers against your mouth. "Why do you make me feel like? You want to see me like this? Huh?"

It's reckless and out of control and perfect. You don't even care that any second you could get caught. You could lose yourself in this moment, in this golden haze that illuminates your fogged up windshield. The car's starting to sway with your movements.

"How do I make you feel, baby?" Her pussy feels so good as you surge your fingers in deeper. "Tell me."

"Like I'm going crazy," she whispers, her voice breaking a little with emotion. It's too much. It was too much then at the party, when she saw you dancing with some other girl, too much when you started touching her.

Everything about what you're doing to her is bringing Amber closer and closer to that point of no return. "Like you're making me crave you." Her hips rock against you again, her breasts soft as they rub against you too.

This is Amber making you feel the way you make her feel. When you dance with other girls, when you don't text back for hours, when you forget your anniversary. Every time you brushed off an insult and didn't let a fight escalate, this is what she wanted. How pent up she must have been, swallowing down the rage and accepting your apologies.

Amber whines when your thumb grazes against her clit. Every bit of her feels like it's tingling and she's practically soaking your lap at this point. "I hate you but I can't live without you." Amber sounds like she's on the verge of tears. "It scares and excites me at the same time. I- I've never cared this much."

You keep pumping right back into her, never stopping, only growing more and more intense. Her body trembles but you're holding her. Amber's hands grasp at your forearm again, like she can't decide whether to push you away or pull you in. You don't know what to say. She was enjoying the fight earlier, instigated it even, but she's so vulnerable now.

"You're the only one I want," is what you end up settling on. Your thumb stops those teasing grazes now, rubbing against her clit proper. Her wetness makes it so easy. "And I am yours."

This is what makes Amber shudder and dissolve in your arms. The tension finally breaks and she starts squirming against you, fingers lodged so deep into her body it's like you're grazing at something deeper, body shaking violently. She's so close, so impossibly close, a moment of pure ecstasy that lasts seconds before falling apart in a burst of heat and pleasure.

"You're mine!" This she shouts so loud you'd be surprised if the entire neighbourhood didn't wake up.

You two fall silent for a moment, both taking slow, shuddering breaths. Amber can feel her brain is still short circuiting, trying to calm down; it's like her stomach has been replaced with a ball of fire.

"Still hate me?" you whisper, leaning in to kiss Amber.

"Just shut up, okay," she murmurs, kissing back happily now, her voice still raw from the edge of tears and the intense orgasm that had wracked her body. "Don't ever do that again."

#mikey madison #amber freeman #mikey madison x reader #amber freeman x reader #scream 2022 #scream 5 #amber freeman smut #wanted to write something short and got carried away lol

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mythicalmyles · 11 months

Note

double pen + breeding + somno + dubcon + size difference literally doesnt matter who just no minors 🥺 pretty please with a cherry kn top

Masky x Hitchhiker!Reader x Hoodie

amab male reader

(Noncon/dubcon, double pen, breeding, size difference, overstimulation, drugging, pet play, video taping, use of the word pussy)

You blew air through your nose as the fourth car passed you, you flopped your arm down to your side and kicked a rock. If you’re idiot friends hadn’t spent all day arguing you wouldn’t have had to walk off on your own. You crossed your arms angrily glowering at the road, cursing everyone you had ever known as you leaned against the gas stations fence..

You looked upto see a truck making its way down the road. Anxiety fluttered through your stomach but your desperation outweighed your brains and you stuck your arm out. You doubted you would turn out like the others. It slowed down next to you and you fought off your anxiety.

A rather large man came hopping out of the side, his dark brown hair flopping down over his face. He had a angry scar streaked across his eye, his eyes were cold and held something dark and twisted inside of them. He had tanned skin and a scruffy beard hiding his jaw, he was almost twice your size and you couldn't help but shrink under his direct stare. "Hop in." Was all he said as he walked past you, you thought a smirk tugged at his lips but you shook it off as your tired eyes playing tricks.

"Tha-.." You drawled off but he was already pushing open the door to the bathroom. You swallowed down your nerves and made your way to the door, another man with his hands on the wheel. "Uhm, Hi." You choked out as you pulled yourself up, struggling with the height of their truck. You suddenly felt a hand twist into your jumper and you were yanked up, falling into his shoulder.

You jumped back and began frantically apologising to him, embarrassment taking hold of you. "You're fine." His voice wasn't as rough as the others and despite the fact you would be stuck in a truck with two men who were twice your size, one you knew could pick you up without breaking their stoic face.

You both sat in silence for a few moments as you looked at your lap. "Brian." You visibly jolted when his voice broke through the silence, eyes snapping to him. You stared at him for a moment before quickly choking out your name. Brian's lip tugged up, you seemed like you would be a good boy for them. After all, they had went out of their way to pick you up.

The other guy suddenly appeared, throwing himself onto the seat and slamming the door behind him. You tried to steady your breathing as you were pressed up against both of them, anxiety clawed at your mind as any chance of escape was cut off. You quietly gulped down some air as Brian began driving. "Names Tim, what's yours?" You snapped your gaze upto him. "Oh, uhm yeah sorry my names (Name)."

You felt scared looking into his eyes so you stared out the window, looking out into the night sky. "Want a drink?" Tim held a bottle out to you, you could feel the back of your throat cracking so you gladly accepted the bottle. You handed it back to him and he just threw it to the bottom of the car.

Brain eventually turned the radio on, playing softly in the background. The heat of the truck combined with being sandwiched between two large men had your eyes beginning to flutter closed. You must've outdone yourself today, you figured that was the reason for the sudden inability to keep your eyes open.

You relaxed back against the seat, barley registering the hand that landed on your thigh. Masky smirked over to Hoodie, happy the sedative he had put into the bottle before stopping made quick work of you. "I think this time is different." Masky grinned, Hoodie nodded as he continued to drive.

Masky easily opened your legs, a small chuckling exhale being drawn from him when you let out a snore. He turned so he could pull down your jeans, easily manhandling you to get them off. You flopped back against the seat when he was done removing your close, still sound asleep despite Masky hitting your head off of the roof a couple of times.

Masky hit the storage compartment and it flung open, he threw out all the papers inside and grabbed out a bottle of lube. "At least that sleaze was handy for something. He died too quick for my liking." He pulled one of your legs between his, making sure you couldn't pry yourself away. He lubed up three of his fingers and without warning pushed two into you.

You shot up with a moan, shocked drowsy eyes staring at Masky in surprise. He wrapped his arm around your neck, cutting off your breathing. Since the truck was automatic Hoody pulled one of his hands from the steering wheel, hooking it under the thigh closest to him and helping Masy keep them pried open.

You whimpered in Masky's hold, choking out moans through sealed lips as his fingers rammed into your prostate and stretched you open. You squealed and twisted in their hold when Masky pressed a third finger into you, tears dripping down your cheeks and they tore you apart. Neither of them seemed to care about your fingernails that had embedded into their flesh, your sobbing moans only seemed to make them act up more.

Masky didn't waste much time in stretching you open, pulling his digits out with globs of lube chasing them. You whined as you felt the goo drip down your ass. "Ple-please stop it." You choked out when Masky's hand moved from your throat, he pulled you into his lap completely ignoring your words. "Whatcha say Hoodie? We fuck this cute little puppy nice and full of cum? He's so tiny, so easy to move" Masky's voice was cruel and you hated the way your cock twitched with reaction.

"Don-don't you dare." You cried out, trying to get off of Masky's lap and only resulting in having your head slammed into the dashboard. His rough calloused hands grabbed your ass cheeks and pried them apart, you buried your head into your crossed arms as you lay across the dashboard.

"Ah-Shit. N-no!" You cried out when his tongue suddenly licked a stripe across your hole. His hands dug into you, rugged nails scraping your flesh as he suddenly pushed his tongue into you and began fucking you with it. "Oh, no, fuck!" You choked out, sobbing into your arms. You barley even registered yourself beginning to grind back onto his tongue, whimpering as your body shook with pleasure.

"What a good boy, just lie there and take it." Hoodie's voice made you whine and your body twitch, you turned to see him watching you from his peripheral. You had almost forgotten about it existence and hot shame flooded you, you didn't have much time to dwell before you were yanked back against Masky's chest. You tried to fight him but he pulled his cock out of his jeans, watching it hit up against yours.

You let out a loud panicked yelp as you began fighting him harder, you could feel his cock sliding between your thighs and against your own cock. He felt really heavy, and he was really big. You didn't think they could get that back, it would've impressed you if you knew it wasn't about to split you open.

"Please dont." You begged shaking your head. "It wont fit." You whimpered out, Masky pulled your legs upto your chest. He made sure you could see his thick cock catch against your hole, you sucked in a breath of air when he wrapped his hand around his cock and began pressing into you.

"N-No! Am-A-" You cut yourself off with a strangled moan as he buried his cock into you, you freely sobbed in his lap as you tried to cope with the overwhelming feeling of being stretched beyond belief. He began grinding up into you, his cock rubbing against your prostate and making you curl your toes.

You looked down at your stomach, eyes doubling when you noticed the bulge in your stomach. Your mouth dropped open as your hoarse voice cracked out, in strangled gasps. You didn't notice the truck veering off to the side and stopping. Hoodie pulled his camera out of the side department, quickly turning it on and turning it onto you. "C'mon Masky, I want a better shot." His voice caught your attention and you felt your heart skip a few beats when you came eye to eye with a camera.

You began shaking your head but Masky's hand slapped over your mouth, turning sideways and leaning against the door so Hoodie could get a good view. You didn't bother begging them to stop, not when you could barley even string a sentence together instead your words were drowned by moans. Masky easily bounced you on his lap, groaning as you tightened around his cock.

"Such a good puppy for me, so good. You gonna take all the cum i give you and be my good little cum dump." You whimpered as his words shot through your stomach, leaving a fire burning in its wake.

It took Masky a couple more thrusts before you were wailing as you clenched hard around his cock, whining as he continued fucking your sensitive hole at the same pace. "N-No mor-e!" You cried, body beginning to drip with sweat.

"Room for one more? I wanna breed this cute little pussy too." You couldn't even feel it in you to whine with your shame, letting out small moans as Masky readjusted you both and Hoodie came between your spread legs. You looked up at him with fear in your eyes, he grinned down at you as his hands wrapped around your knees. He yanked them up, ignoring your wailing as Masky's cock moved inside of you. "No, I-can't." Your voice was high, body twitching with overstimulation.

You broke down into full blown sobs when Hoodie's cock began sliding into you alongside Masky's, once Hoodie had fully sheathed his cock inside of you, you lost your voice. Cracks instead leaving your throat as they both fucked into you, never leaving you empty.

You leaned back against Masky's shoulder, staring into Hoodie's camera. Pleasure tore you apart, their cocks stretching you further then you could ever think you would. "Think we keep this little puppy we found? Think our slutty little puppy can go back to normal cock after this?" Hoodie chuckled, deep ragged breathing as you swallowed up his cock, lube squelching inside of you.

Snot and tears dripped down your face, your hands too tied into their clothing to bother wiping any of it away. Neither Hoodie or Masky cared, they liked you better like this. Whining like a good bitch, stretched around their cocks. "Do-don't worry though, we'll take go-good care of you." Hoodie growled out, burying his head into your neck and biting down on your shoulder.

You had no doubt he was going to leave teeth marks embedded into your flesh with how hard he bit down, you felt your eyes twitch close against despite being ready to cum again. You bounced between conscious and unconscious as they had their ways with you. It was downright filthy, getting picked up and railed by two truckers. Yet it unlocked something deep inside of you, loving the way their cocks stretched you beyond your limit. The way their rough, scarred hands ran over your body, tweaking your nipples and grabbing at your flesh.

It all felt like too much, you tightened around the both of them, letting out one last scream as you came hard. You painted both you and Hoodie but he didn't care, his thrusts picking up as he began to lose it.

You felt lost as they emptied their loads into you, thick cum filling up your insides and slipping out between their cocks. Hoodie continued to thrust gently into you, enjoying the pained look that flashed across your face.

He chuckled as he pulled back, pulling up his jeans but not bothering to fasten them. You felt confused when Masky didn't pull you off his cock, seeming content to sit with his arms wrapped around your waist. "If we wanna breed you properly, we can't waste any." He smirked as his hands began running over your stomach.

All you could do was whine with every bump on the road.

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somethingsomethingwords · 2 days

Text

Hello hello hello!!! This was born because I needed more Nando being besotted and Lance getting some deserved rest, no other reasons. Thank you for reading. Enjoy 💜.

Fernando was starting to feel some not so vague sense of annoyance at himself.

He and Lance were supposed to go on a date, the first one in a while, because their lives were chaotic and busy as hell.

They were both in Canada, Lance staying home, relaxing after a rough start of the season and some previous commitments, while Fernando was there for some sponsor event that absolutely required his presence, not at all having begged for something to do in Canada, granting him an excuse to be near the other man.

But he must have prayed a little too hard, because not only the event had run later than programmed, but it was followed by a long wait in the car due to the heavy traffic.

While he was sitting in the car, he started making a mental list of all the things he would have to do to make it up to Lance.

The young man had been so happy about finally having some time off together. Despite being visibly tired, he had made some plans, and the promise of more to come once they were back home.

It was strange to think about a manor in a forest as a home for Fernando, but it wasn't home, not really, just like his own house in Monaco wasn't. It was Lance that made every single building that they were in a home.

Love-safety-protection.

But right now, he had to think on how to apologise, because Lance must have been mad as hell.

Usually, when Fernando was late, Lance would write him a text every 10 minutes until he arrived. It was his way of annoying him and still making sure he knew he cared.

Now, it had been radio silence the whole evening. He prayed Lance would let him in, even if just to take a change of clothes.

When he finally arrived, he parked the car and went to the front door.

It was strange, because it was getting dark, but he couldn't see any of the lights on.

He started feeling worried. What if Lance was so mad he left? What if he fell and knocked himself out?

He took a deep breath and opened the door.

First things first, he turned on the lights, and he was going to scream Lance's name, when he finally saw the Canadian.

He was lying on his very comfy sofa, asleep and without his shirt on, because on his chest was napping a peaceful looking blonde baby, thumb in her mouth, wrapped in a blanket, that he recognised as Lance's favourite, and protected by Lance's arm around her. Her cheek rested on his naked skin, seeking his warmth and lulled by his heart beat.

Oh.

This tender moment, the softness of niece and uncle bundled together and asleep in the safety of a house Lance promptly opened to Fernando, it was getting to him.

He could almost see Lance with another baby, their hair brown as their eyes, grins mischievous and big smiles, crawling slowly on this same parquet, then running on some sandy beach, speaking fast English then Spanish then French then Italian, their pale skin easily turned red by the sun.

He could see them starting karting, or playing hockey, or maybe wanting nothing to do with sports.

He could see them graduating, moving out, having a family of their own, while he and Lance grew old and grey, happy and satisfied and together.

Together. It seemed impossible, but maybe it wasn't, after all.

The thoughts of a home somewhere quiet, a ring and a child filled his mind, and he softly smiled at a future now lying sleeping on a couch.

At that exact moment, the baby girl started waking up, moving her little arms and softly whining.

He could see Lance starting to wake up as well and decided to intervene. He smiled at the baby, picking her up and gently rocking her. He bent over his lover, and left a kiss in his hairline.

"Keep sleeping cariño, I got her" he whispered, melting at the sight of Lance relaxing once more and mumbling something along the lines of "safe with you".

He rose up and walked to the kitchen. There was already a bag for the baby full of clothes and diapers and baby bottles.

"Are you hungry, mi amor, or you didn't agree with waking up, uh? Your uncle is the same, don't worry" he said, while waiting to understand what she needed: that was pretty clear when she put her whole fist in her mouth.

"Hungry it is. Just give me five minutes, and don't eat your hand" he laughed softly, before sitting her on the high chair Lance had stressed over while buying.

He quickly heated up the milk, making sure it wasn't too hot before feeding it to the girl. She hungrily took it, and made her way through it, almost finishing it all, before pulling away.

Fernando took her up, and started walking, gently tapping her back until she burped. He then cleaned her up, and returned to the living room.

The moment her eyes were on Lance, the baby tried to reach for him.

Fernando giggled and re-wrapped her in the blanket, depositing her once again on his chest.

Instinctively, Lance put his arm around the baby, and their breaths soon synchronised.

Fernando was left once again the only one awake. He decided to wait for Lance to wake up, sitting on the armchair near his head, just at touching distance. He started passing his hand through the younger man's hair, and was rewarded by a deep sigh of happiness.

Date night could wait, when they had a baby to take care of and some well deserved rest to look forward to.

#strollonso #fernando alonso #lance stroll #grumpy cat boy x besotted old man #yes this is what i think about daily #but can you blame me #them being soft and warm is my roman empire

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d4rkhold · 10 months

Text

blood set ablaze

Marilyn Thornhill x Fem!Reader

OVERVIEW: After studying late into the night at the library and completely losing track of time, you realise you might have to wait a very long time to catch a train ride home. Luckily, your botanical professor, Marilyn Thornhill, also appears to still be on campus and offers you a ride home. Her act of kindness poses a question to you: what could you ever do to thank her?

WORD COUNT: 6.5k

WARNINGS: (18+ NSFW) heavy smut, praise kink, sub!reader, dom!marilyn, legal age gap, alternate universe - college/university, oral sex, fingering, orgasm denial, blood

A/N: After many, many months - I am finally back (with a very nasty fic)! I apologise for the long period of radio silence; life was quite busy these past few months and I completely forgot I had this piece in the drafts. Nevertheless, enjoy!

Your eyes widen at the spectacle in front of you; the auburn-haired woman’s eyes are fully blown, and her tongue darts out to lick at the blood on her lips. Something equally sinister and ravenous twists in your stomach, and you can’t tell if it’s a good feeling or not, but you don’t have time to ponder the odd fervour that starts to contaminate your bloodstream because she suddenly surges in for another kiss, devouring you all over again.

All you can do is close your eyes and let your mouth find hers for what feels like the hundredth time tonight.

— — —

People say they like winter, but when it rolls around to the season of frost coating the tips of grass and shorter days of sunlight, they suddenly wish it was summer – or, more precisely, that they didn’t have to trudge through the freezing rain at night.

As you walk through campus, your hands are shoved in your coat pockets, clutching tightly at the inner fabric to stay warm. You were so caught up with your studies in the library that you didn’t realise how late it had become and how the stars had replaced the setting sun so quickly.

The rain isn’t too heavy, but the air is a bit too cold for your liking. You had also forgotten to bring an umbrella and a warmer coat when you left your place, putting all your trust into the weather app on your phone – which had stated there would only be light rain in the afternoon and clear skies afterwards. Apparently, the weather decided to change its mind.

On another note, it’s also the beginning of finals season, and you’ve been absolutely stressed from head to toe, leading to your nose being stuck in various textbooks during most of the day, every day. While your friends keep up with a balanced life, seamlessly juggling their social lives and academia, you find yourself wholly fixated on your studies, determined that you’ll be able to perform at your very best when you have to sit your exams.

You stop for a second to pull out your phone. The trains from Jericho frequently run during peak hours, such as, in the afternoon and in the evening when people finish work. But right now, it’s late at night, and you’re almost sure you’ll have to wait at least forty-five minutes for a ride home.

Now it’s suddenly hitting you, that regret of deciding to stay so long in the library to study when you could've done all your work at home. The dampness of your hair, the shivering of your body, and the formidable darkness of the night sky fuel the feeling of regret so horribly well that it makes you mutter out an annoyed ‘fuck’ from your lips.

It doesn’t help that most of the trees on campus are terribly monstrous and old, having existed here way before the academy was even built. They crane over both sides of the large and endless cobble footpath, creating a scene that looks like something straight out of a gothic horror movie.

The trees sway with the gentle wind and rain, causing branches to prod and clip at adjacent ones. You stand on the path under a leafless tree with your left hand shielding your phone from the rain, checking for the train timetable.

You’re too busy scrolling on your phone and lost in thought to hear the sound of clicking footsteps in the rain approaching you from behind. It’s not until you stop feeling the droplets of rain hit your face, and a strange earthy saccharine scent fills your senses that you look up from your phone.

“Behind you,” a cheery voice muses out through the rain pattering on cobblestones. The tone of voice is a little ironic, considering how unsavoury the current weather is.

You turn around on the balls of your feet to meet a familiar face – perhaps a little too familiar – for you have tried to memorise the details of her face during lectures and put in extra hours of study to ensure you were always on top of things for that paper. Sometimes, you would sit at your desk in the middle of a study session at home and think of her and nothing else; thoughts of plant anatomy would digress into ones filled with an auburn-haired woman in denim overalls and hazel eyes that glowed behind wide-rimmed glasses.

Marilyn Thornhill is your botany professor, and somehow she’s standing here with you in the dark, umbrella in one hand, shielding you both from the rain with an alluring smile on her lips.

She’s always cheerful and passionate about everything. You can’t help but feel like a moth to a flame when she’s around; your eyes relentlessly follow her hand gestures while she speaks, drawn to her persistent positivity that you wished you had on your bad days.

“Professor Thornhill! Oh- hi!” Your fingers absentmindedly turn off your phone in a moment of surprise. “What are you still doing here?”

Marilyn smiles warmly, despite the chilly air causing ears and fingertips to go cold. “I was going to ask you the same question, sweetheart.” She pushes up the glasses sitting on her nose bridge. “I was just marking papers in my office and running errands for Headmaster Weems.”

The pet name sends a slight wave of heat across your collarbones, but you convince yourself it’s just your body’s physiological response to the cold. “Oh, cool,” you simply reply, afraid something stupid will slip from your lips.

“And how about you, Y/N?” She steps a little closer towards you to ensure her umbrella is keeping you dry. “I don’t know of any extracurriculars today that run until late,” she says lightly with a questionable look in her gaze.

“Oh, I was just studying in the library, and I kind of lost track of time,” you sheepishly smile and turn on your phone to check the time before turning it off again.

She starts to snake an arm around the small of your back, and you suddenly find yourself walking with her in the rain. Your feet seem to be on autopilot as they walk in sync with her, the sound of two pairs of shoes clicking against the wet pavement, echoing off into the distance.

Your body is starting to register the realness of her touch as the heart in your chest races slightly faster than usual. You don’t know exactly where the two of you are going, but you know you’re content with being in the older woman's presence.

It makes you wonder: when did you start crushing on the older woman? Was it when you first laid eyes on her during your first botany lecture? Was it during your laboratory sessions in the greenhouse where she’d squeeze your shoulder in encouragement when you were stuck with an experiment? Or was it, perhaps, when you would ask her questions after lectures, and she would look at you with a twinkle in her eyes, pleased that you were so invested in botany?

Marilyn gently retracts her arm from your shoulder and breaks the silence. “Do you have a ride home? It’s terribly late, and I wouldn’t want you going home all by yourself.”

Your heart is about to jump out of your chest at her considerate words. “Oh, I’ll be okay; I’ve got a train to catch at the station that’s scheduled to depart soon.” you smile meekly at her, uncertain about the truth of your own words.

She frowns at you, clearly unamused. “I don’t know how I feel about you walking alone to the station at night and in the pouring rain.” She stops walking and puts a hand on her hips. “Why don’t you let me drive you home?”

You laugh nervously. “Professor Thornhill, I don’t want to be a hassle for you,” you momentarily look down at your shoes and back up at her. “I’ll be fine. I’ve taken the train home many times at night before.”

The woman before you tilts her head disapprovingly, clearly not having any of it. “Oh, sweetheart, it’s no hassle at all. It’s important that my students get home safely,” she says with a hint of firmness in her tone.

You contemplate her words for a moment. “Okay, if you say so.” You give her an appreciative smile, and she gives one back and nods in acknowledgement.

You follow her to the staff car park, occasionally making small talk with the older woman about the weather, how lectures were today, and plans for the weekend. It’s no surprise when you find out that she’s planning to renovate her garden and read a biography about a famous horticulturist. You imagine her garden to be filled with life: exotic winter flowers and plants covering the place, a variety of colours spilling everywhere.

The two of you arrive at her car – a purple Volkswagen Beetle. She unlocks it, allowing you to get inside and sit yourself down.

You fiddle with your fingers in the passenger seat of her car while your botany professor checks her mirrors. She notices your movements in her peripheral vision and asks what’s the matter.

“Is everything alright, Y/N?” She doesn’t turn to look at you, but you find yourself immediately ceasing your movements. You open your mouth to speak, but nothing comes out at first.

“Sorry,” you say, clearing your throat. “My hands are just a little bit numb from the cold, that’s all,” you lie.

Truthfully, you’re nervous about being alone and in such close proximity with the auburn-haired woman. You’ve always admired her from afar, yet here you are now, just an arm's length away from her, sitting in her car.

Marilyn turns and unexpectedly goes to clasp her hands around your own hands. Your breath hitches in your throat as you feel her soft, warm fingers wrap around yours, gently caressing your knuckles. Your mind is quick and cruel, conjuring an image of her hands situated around something else…

… The base of your neck, cradling it gently. Her fingers move to trace invisible lines from your jawline to your throat. Without wasting any time, her free hand begins to squeeze at your trachea gently, and you feel your airways constrict slightly. With wide eyes, you watch as she surges forward, about to replenish your oxygen with a kiss-

Your humiliating imagination doesn’t last long as you’re jerked back into reality by her voice.

“Oh dear,” she pouts sympathetically. “You’re like ice! Don’t worry, I’ll get you home in no time so you can get all warmed up.”

And it’s over, just like that. She retracts her hands from yours and starts the ignition of her car. You find yourself missing her touch, biting the inside of your cheeks as you try to ignore a peculiar feeling beginning to brew within your chest.

You give her directions to your place as she drives through the gates of the academy. Your elbow rests on the car door, supporting your chin as you stare out the window, watching the beads of rain run down the surface. Professor Thornhill has the radio playing at a low volume, where you can make out the sound of a violin and a piano chiming in a gentle rhythm – a classical piece you’ve never heard of before.

“I never thought you’d be the type to listen to the orchestra,” you say with a hint of curiosity, eyes still following the droplets of rain.

You’re too busy looking out the window to see the smirk that’s made its way onto the auburn-haired woman’s mouth.

“I enjoy listening to a lot of things,” she hums.

— — —

“Well,” she says. You turn to look at the woman in the driver’s seat as she announces, “We’re finally here.”

You resist the urge to tuck a stray piece of hair dangling near your eyes behind your ear. For a moment, the low sound of the car engine humming away is the only noise that fills the silence as the two of you sit, gazing off into the distance of the dimly lit street.

“Thank you so much for driving me home. I really appreciate it, Professor Thornhill,” you say, turning your head to offer her a grateful smile.

She gazes back at you through her glasses, almost as if she’s trying to study you. Her eyes roam – and she doesn’t hide the fact that she’s doing it. When her eyes drop to your lips for a split second, your brain doesn’t know if it’s your imagination or not.

She’s pushing her glasses up and looking right at you again, but this time with an indecipherable look.

“It was no problem, sweetheart,” she says in a low gentle voice. “I’m satisfied that I definitely know you’re home safely and in one piece.”

Your heart warms – truly grateful that she took the time and consideration to take you home. You’re so grateful that you don’t realise you’re suddenly spilling offers from your lips.

“Do– do you maybe want to just come inside for a glass of water or use the bathroom before you drive back to your place?” Your heart hammers against your rib cage after the words leave your lips.

She lets out a light, appreciative laugh. “Oh, Y/N… How kind of you, but it’s quite late, and I don’t want to disrupt you from getting a good night’s rest.”

You finally tuck the loose strand of hair behind your ear. “Well, you wouldn’t be interfering with anything, and honestly, it’s the least I can do to repay you for taking me home.”

Marilyn’s fingers find her keys in the ignition, and in one movement, the car’s engine stops. “You are sweet,” she pauses. “I won’t stay for long then.”

The two of you climb out of her car, and you wait as she locks it. You begin to lead the way to the entrance of your place, hearing the sound of her footsteps following closely from behind.

For some reason, there's a feeling in your gut that her eyes are burning into your back as you start to unlock your front door, yet you don’t know for sure.

You don’t even know what you’re trying to achieve right now, inviting the professor you have a crush on into your place.

When you step inside and hold the door open for her, it earns you a smile that almost seems like a smirk, causing you to blush briefly.

Her eyes roam the interior of your place, admiring how cosy it looks. “What a lovely place you have, Y/N. Do you live by yourself?”

You smile nervously. “Thanks, it was a team effort,” you say, running a hand through your hair. “I’m currently living with two other people. I think they’re at a party right now or something.”

She hums in response, and you watch as she goes to adjust her glasses. “That’s lovely. Why aren’t you at the party with them?”

“I thought I would leave partying until after exams are over and focus on studying.”

“Good girl.”

Your throat almost instantaneously goes dry at the praise. God. Nobody will ever understand the effect this woman has on you. How simple words that leave her lips can cause your heart to quicken; how she makes you feel like melting into a puddle with the quirk of a lip. Not even you will ever understand how she makes you feel this way.

Not wanting the older woman to notice the state you’ve fallen into, you suddenly mention, “Oh, the bathroom is just down the hall and to the left if you need it.”

She squeezes your bicep as a “thanks” before leaving you alone. You let out a breath – almost like a sigh – as the ghost of her touch lingers on your arm, and her sultry voice echoes in the forefront of your mind.

You go to grab two glasses, fill them up with water and settle them down on the kitchen bench as you await for her to return.

Hmm, you mumble to yourself. Your eyes dart to the couch and the coffee table across the room. You think it might be more comfortable for the two of you to sit there instead of standing at the kitchen island. It wouldn’t be very nice for your guest to remain on her feet, considering she must be tired from standing and pacing back and forth during her lectures today.

As you pick up the glasses and begin to walk over to the couch, you suddenly crash into something, causing you to drop one of the glasses onto the floor. Countless shards of glass scatter on impact, water droplets splash up onto your pants and pool onto the floor.

Your eyes widen in shock when you realise you’ve just crashed into Marilyn as she was returning from the bathroom.

“Professor Thornhill– oh my god, I’m so sorry! Are you alright?!”

You internally curse yourself at your clumsiness. It makes you want to dig your own grave right there on your kitchen floor.

The older woman, though slightly taken aback by the sudden collision, remains calm, her face softening at the look of concern on your face.

“It’s alright, Y/N. I’m perfectly fine,” she says with a reassuring smile. “Are you okay?”

You look up at her and lock eyes, searching for any sign of distress. She doesn’t show any visible irritation – or anything of the sort – but your concern for the woman persists, guilt simmering in your throat at your own idiocy.

Marilyn notices your worry and goes to reach out a comforting hand, squeezing your arm. “Truly, I’m alright. I’m unharmed; please don’t worry.”

You finally release a breath of slight relief, convinced that’s alright. “Okay,” you say gently.

The floor is a mess: bits of broken glass and a pool of water where the two of you stand. Luckily, your clothes or hers aren’t too wet, just some splotches of water here and there. You decide to offer her if she wants a towel anyway.

“Do you want a towel? I don’t want you to feel cold or anything.”

“I’m not too wet; it’s alright.” Your stomach shifts at her words as you think about something else entirely. “Thank you, though.”

The other glass is in your hands, still intact from the accident but is now almost empty. You bend down and place it on the floor and begin to pick up the large pieces of broken glass, not wanting to cause any more accidents.

“You can sit down if you like, and I’ll get you another glass of water,” you say from the floor as you collect the shards. “I’m just going to clean this up quickly.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she lightly laughs and looks down at you. “I won’t let you clean this up by yourself.”

“Please, don’t worry! It’s absolutely fine- shit!” You let go of a piece of glass you had just picked up, blood suddenly oozing from a newly-formed cut on your fingers.

A look of worry is all over the older woman’s face, and she immediately bends down to your level on the floor. “Oh dear, are you alright?”

You hold out your bloodied hand before you and watch as she peers at your injury through her glasses before taking your hand into her own. She delicately turns your hand around to examine the severity of your injury.

“It just stings a little… I’ll be alright; I have bandages and antiseptic somewhere in the cupboard,” you nervously chuckle as you notice that she’s still holding onto your hand.

For some reason, you look at her eyes and see they’re dilating. Both of you are on the floor with hardly any distance between the two of you, with her holding your bleeding hand and you on your knees. Most people would not think twice about a situation like this, but for you, it sends your heart marching, becoming progressively quicker.

She flicks her gaze up at you. The abruptness of the action makes you freeze like a deer in headlights, feeling like you’ve just been caught doing something wrong.

You suddenly realise what she begins to do, and it threatens to spin your head completely off your shoulders, like a screw coming off a hinge.

She has the palm of your hand flat and open and goes to dip her head while you watch in shock as she begins to lick a stripe of blood from your fingers. You sit and stare as your chest rises and falls, feeling dizzy from the sight before you.

She looks at you as she does it. Not for a single second does she look away, causing you to feel paralysed in place. You swear that you’re dreaming because this can’t be real.

Unexpectedly, you feel a rush of heat sink to the bottom of your stomach, and you swallow thickly – a revelation of your own self-semblance slipping through your fingertips second by second. Her gesture feels like the strike of a match against the box. It’s bold. It’s so riveting. You don’t know what’s happening to you. You don’t know what she’s doing to you.

This has to be some sort of ridiculous dream you’re having right now.

“Fuck,” you can’t help but mutter out loud. She hums when she hears the profanity escape from your lips, encouraging her even more because now she’s taking your forefinger and middle finger into her mouth, right up to your knuckles.

You feel her tongue swirl around your digits and over the cut caused by the broken glass. A wave of arousal washes over you, making you close your eyes and breathe deeply. You don’t say a single word – you’re too lost for words. Even if you tried saying something, it’d probably come out incoherent.

Without warning, you feel her mouth retract from your fingers, prompting you to open your eyes. She leans forward, slowly licking her lips and chuckling at the wide-eyed expression on your face.

“Why don’t we continue this somewhere else, sweetheart?” Her voice husks in the small space between the two of you. “We can deal with the mess later. It won’t be going anywhere.”

She stands up and holds out a hand to you. You take it, and she pulls you up from the ground. Your feet begin scrambling backwards to the couch, and she follows you at a close distance, almost like a fox backing her prey into a corner with nowhere to run to.

You let her push you down, relishing in the way your back hits the soft material of the couch. She doesn’t waste any time and immediately straddles your hips with a smirk forming on her lips.

Your fingers don’t seem to throb from the cut anymore, but now something else seems to be.

Marilyn hasn’t kissed you yet, but the neediness within you is almost reaching its threshold. A whine leaves your lips as she brings a hand to hold your jaw firmly.

“Please,” you breathlessly say, desperate for her to touch you – to do anything to you.

She just chuckles and goes to take her glasses off. “Patience, Y/N.”

You can’t help but sigh at the sight of her without her glasses. You’ve always seen her wearing them in lectures, and you have never seen her without them on.

“God…” You breathe out in awe.

She quickly transfers her weight and leans away to place her glasses on the coffee table. When she returns to you, she bites her lip at the look of desperation on your face. She runs a thumb over your cheek before lowering her face close to yours.

And she surges in for the kill.

You think about everything and nothing all at once. It makes you wonder how you’ve been able to live this long without experiencing the pure feeling of Marilyn’s lips on yours and how her hot, wet tongue prods against your lips. You immediately grant her access as impatience and desire start to flow through your veins, spurring you on.

The feeling of her tongue in your mouth draws a groan from somewhere deep within your chest, and you feel absolutely wild.

She kisses you like you’re something sweet. You can feel your tongue against hers, wet and hungry, kissing you messily without relenting.

Your hands wander to the back of her neck, pulling her impossibly closer to you. The cut on your hand is long forgotten, now threading through auburn locks of hair.

Marilyn pulls away from your mouth and snakes around to your ear, where you can feel the soft skin of her cheek against yours. Her hand finds the collar of your shirt and tugs at it.

“I want you to take everything off, darling,” she husks into your ear before pulling away and getting off of you so you can comply.

You feel yourself grow wet at her words, heart beating so ferociously that you swear Marilyn can hear the pounding drums in your chest.

The woman in the question gazes down at you, pupils dilating and dark as she watches your hands fumble for the hem of your shirt. You partially sit up, pulling the material over your head and dropping it carelessly on the floor somewhere.

You’re left topless in a simple black lace bra. Goosebumps begin to form on your skin, and you’re unsure if it’s because of the cold or how you see Marilyn subtly bite her bottom lip at the sight of you.

You let her eyes linger on your form for a moment before your hands glide down the plane of your stomach to the top of the waistband of your jeans.

Her eyes follow the movement of your hands, waiting in anticipation for you to make the next move. However, something devious racks your mind, urging you to test the waters.

You wonder what she would do if you, perhaps, mess around a little bit.

Your fingers find the button of your jeans, toying with them slightly before popping them open. Immediately, you look at Marilyn to see her fiery gaze burning into you, waiting for you to continue. It sends a shiver down your spine. It feels thrilling to be seen like this. By her. By the woman that is Marilyn Thornhill.

Your fingers rest on the zipper, unmoving as you await a reaction from the other woman.

“Oh, sweet girl, do you really think that is a good idea?”

“What do you mean?” You pretend to be confused by her words, fingers gently fiddling with the zipper.

“Sweetheart.”

Oh, god. The sternness in her voice makes you feel more aroused, and you blink several times to maintain your composure. You remain unmoving but flash her another look of faux naivety. It appears that she has a short fuse.

“You’ll regret this later on. I’m going to make sure of it.”

You don’t have time to say something witty back to her because she’s surging forward and clambering on top of you again, her mouth attacking the skin under your jaw.

She sucks and nips gently, making you let out little gasps. It’s certain that she’s going to leave a mark on your skin; the mere thought of her doing such a thing causes you to groan.

Marilyn smirks against your neck, proud of herself, knowing she’s making you feel this way. She kisses a wet trail from your neck to your throat and ends up in the valley between your breasts.

Desperation causes you to slip a hand underneath your back to unclasp your bra. The other woman helps you take it off and tosses it somewhere behind her.

She rests on your lower stomach, leering at your exposed chest from above.

You feel yourself grow embarrassed, hands clenching and unclenching at your sides, wanting to cover yourself up. Marilyn must notice this because she brings a thumb to your lower lip and strokes it gently to soothe you.

“My gorgeous, gorgeous girl.”

You blush and grow hot at her words, low and almost raspy, dripping from her lips like honey you could drink endlessly.

“I’m going to take care of you,” she assures you. “I’m going to fuck you like crazy.”

You gasp as her hand goes to your left breast, fingers running over a nipple, causing you to flutter your eyelids at the feeling. She leans down and kisses you while she kneads your breast, her movements growing rougher with each second that passes by.

Marilyn leaves your lips, causing you to whine in frustration. Her mouth then latches onto your breast, gently biting and sucking your soft skin. She repeats this with your other breast, causing you to release a breathy sigh, the sensation of her swirling tongue on your nipple becoming absolutely electrifying.

The throbbing between your thighs grows, becoming almost unbearable. You’re a terribly impatient person; you won’t deny it. Unashamedly, you grab her free hand and trail it with yours down your stomach to the waistband of your jeans, a few of her fingers tucking slightly underneath the elastic.

You give in, begging her to touch you as impatience sears through your body. “I can’t take it anymore. Please, Marilyn.”

She raises an eyebrow at you and lets out a breathy laugh, amused. Her warm, lithe fingers remain unmoving at your waistband for a moment before she slips her hand out of your grasp to pull down your zipper so her hand can move more freely.

The older woman pulls out your own hand from your pants and replaces it with her own. Marilyn traces a finger over your clothed cunt, forcing you to bite back a moan.

“You’re already soaked…” She murmurs, eyes flashing with amusement.

You swallow thickly. The sensation of her touch has every inch of your skin on fire, your blood set ablaze.

But it’s not enough.

You need more.

You try to wriggle out of your jeans. Marilyn notices this and helps you, tugging them off roughly, along with your underwear.

The coolness of the air hits your sex, sending electricity through your spine. You're suddenly hyperaware that you’re lying naked underneath your botany professor, about to be fucked by her.

She runs her fingers through your arousal, spreading it around your entrance gently. Without warning, she slips two fingers inside you, and you think: this is it; I’m going to die tonight.

But for some reason, you’re certainly convinced that you’re more than willing to die at the hands of your botany professor; her hands that feed the Venus flytraps in the greenhouse; her hands that grip a textbook while she’s lecturing. You’re willing to lose every bit of yourself to her entirely.

“Fuck,” is the only thing you manage to breathe out, spreading your legs wider for her.

“Oh, just you wait, sweet girl.” She’s starting to increase her pace, and you gasp loudly as she curls her fingers perfectly, in and out of you continuously. “I’m barely even started with you.”

She picks up a brutal pace, coaxing soft moans from you with each thrust. It doesn’t take you long to feel the knot in your stomach tighten, prompting your heart to race even faster.

“More, please- I think I’m going to-“

“Oh, no, you don’t,” she says cruelly, pulling her fingers out of you, causing you to cry out. She stands up and begins tearing off her clothing; your mind is trying to process what she’s just done.

“You think you could tease me like you did before and get away with it?” She unclasps her bra, letting it fall to the floor. “I don’t think so.”

You simply watch silently as she undresses, dragging her underwear down her legs. She does it slowly and delicately, eyes fixed on you. Your eyes have a mind of their own, scanning her from top to bottom, slowly. Embarrassingly, more wetness leaks from your cunt, drooling down your thighs.

When she’s finished, she presses her exposed front to your own, lying on top of you as she begins to kiss you again. She kisses you sensually, tongue prodding the inside of your mouth. You moan into her mouth at the feeling – at the feeling of her mouth and her naked body on yours, warm skin against yours.

Your arms encompass her body, pulling her impossibly closer to you. You absentmindedly dig your nails into the soft skin of her back, causing her to groan against your mouth.

“Profess– Marilyn…” You whimper in between kisses before she suddenly stops. “Please, I’m sorry for teasing you before. I’ll- I’ll be good this time.”

She leaves an inch of distance between your lips and hers for a split second, contemplating your words. Without warning, she goes to kiss you again.

This time it’s different; you feel like you’re being devoured by her. The thought causes you to groan into her mouth. She retaliates by biting your bottom lip – hard.

You feel the skin split open and start to taste the metallic tang of blood on your tongue. When she moans, you know she’s finally got a taste of it too. The kisses become sloppy, and you feel more wetness pool between your thighs as the two of you relish in the taste of blood and the heat of wet tongues colliding against each other like waves against the rocky shore.

Marilyn goes to nip at the same area on your bottom lip again, certain for more blood to spill from the wound. You almost yelp out in pain and surprise; it never occurred to you that there lies a much darker side to her under all her cheery smiles and dignified praise in the classroom.

She pulls away from you, leaving your chest heaving and your heart pounding at your ribcage. You feel how your bottom lip throbs from how hard she bit you. It wouldn’t be a surprise if you looked into a mirror and saw your lips swollen from kisses and bites and your face flushed, covered by a thin sheen of sweat.

All you can do is close your eyes and let your mouth find hers for what feels like the hundredth time tonight.

Your nails dig into her bare shoulder as she kisses you, holding onto her for dear life. She kisses you rhythmically while you follow along, just as if she’s the conductor and you’re the orchestra at this very moment.

It’s just like the music that was playing on the radio in her car – the sounds of pianos and strings intertwining, forming a melody both so delicate and ferocious at the same time.

Her fingers trace down your side and between your thighs once more, fingertips briefly grazing the soft skin there before she drags a finger through your arousal and circles your clit. The action is familiar; you just hope she’ll finish you off this time.

You’re panting as blood rushes to your ears and head, lost in the sensation of Marilyn’s touch. She plunges two fingers into your core and begins pumping in and out of you at an increasingly erratic pace while simultaneously rubbing that sensitive spot on your cunt, drawing mewls from you.

You feel something beginning to tighten in your stomach, hips buckling as you near the peak. The sounds of her fucking you fill the room, humility wavering in your mind temporarily before you decide that you don’t care about anything else right now.

“I’m almost there,” you pant out, voice slightly hoarse from all the noises you've been making.

She tsks. You want to cry as she denies you an orgasm for the second time.

Marilyn stops touching you completely and doesn’t say a word; she leaves you with a bewildered look on your face, your mouth hanging open stupidly, whimpering in frustration. She flashes you a quick smirk, and you notice a bit of blood in the corner of her lips. You resist the urge to surge up to her and lick her lips clean of your own crimson sap.

Before any words can leave your throat – pleading for her to continue, begging unashamedly – she slides down your body, grazing her fingertips along your frame. She doesn’t waste any time as she goes to lick one long stripe through your cunt before entering you with her tongue.

A noise escapes your lips, breathy and high-pitched, almost like a hyena. Your hands fly to the older woman’s scalp to tug at her auburn locks, causing her to hum into your cunt, evident that your pleasure is also hers.

Marilyn’s lips attach to your clit, and it doesn’t take that much for you to feel the knot in your stomach start to uncoil, causing you to squeeze your eyes shut as you arch your back and come into her mouth. Her name breathlessly leaves your lips like a desperate mantra you thought you would've never heard yourself say out loud until tonight.

You feel her tongue continue to attack at your core, even after you’ve came. Her pace doesn't falter, causing you to moan louder and louder. Soon after, you find yourself arching your back, muscles straining, coming once again.

It takes you a moment to come down to earth, steadying your breathing after a moment of ecstasy. The older woman uses a thumb to rub gentle circles on your thigh. She sits up. Her hair is messy from you pulling at it, and some of your arousal is still on her lips, causing you to flush at the sight.

She catches the way you stare at her, and she makes a show of slowly licking her lips. The gesture is erotic. It causes you to feel that familiar flame within you start up all over again.

“Now.” She pauses. “I wonder what you would look like on your knees for me.”

You sit up on your elbows, watching Marilyn swing her legs around to sit on the couch properly. You realise you haven't spoken for a minute because she goes to tease you.

“Oh, sweetheart, has the cat got your tongue?” She looks at you, pouting with mock sympathy.

You swallow thickly and shake your head in response. This was going to be a long, long night. You just hope your roommates decide to stay at the party until tomorrow morning.

“That’s what I thought.” She smooths a hand over her thigh. “Now, why don’t you put that tongue of yours to good use?”

#marilyn thornhill #marilyn thornhill x reader #marilyn thornhill smut #wednesday 2022 #christina ricci #laurel gates #wednesday #wlw #wednesday netflix #marilyn thornhill x fem reader

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beanibon · 26 days

Text

Hey Everyone

I truly apologise for the radio silence, just know that everything is slowly getting complete.

You all deserve an update, so here it is:

I'm struggling. Mentally, emotional, you name it I'm not doing well at all. It has nothing to do with writing, I adore it and still do it, unfortunately irl events have been causing me to neglect it due to just trying to stabilize my life.

To make a long story short, financially I'm suffering and it's taken a toll on the luxury care I've been able to give Toast my bearded dragon. Multiple nights of losing myself to my mind has convinced me she deserves better and should be rehomed, but I'd like to try and get my life together before thinking too harshly, as she is my ride or die. The reason I've been able to push through life's struggles as awful as they have been.

So I've made the decision to open writing commissions through Ko-Fi, it was hard to decide this and it's no pressure to do so. It's just added benefits for a few things, and also skip the queue benefits and exclusive content/early peeks at my wips.

Again, it's no pressure to join, it's just so Toast can have a stable source of income until I can stabilize a couple jobs on top of my current one to ensure she can be taken care of so nothing drastic like rehoming can happen.

thank you all for your patience, and I promise to work hard on tumblr requests. They won't be closing, but won't have as high of a priority compared to commissions or Ko-Fi requests.

#beanibon asks #trigun x reader #trigun stampede #knives millions #millions knives #trigun smut #trigun

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vesper-tinus · 1 year

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Hey can you please do male!reader having Lichtenberg figure and like maybe one day y/n takes off his shirt cause it’s like really hot and tf 141 is just looking at his back at awe ( this what they look like)

Hello, Kimdiedlater! Thank you for the request! Hopefully I managed to write something similar to what you were looking for. A little disclaimer, Lichtenberg figures tend to disappear naturally after a day, or similar, so I cheated a little bit and let Reader have them for a while longer 😉 Hope you, and everyone reading, will kindly overlook that small medical freebie.

I also apologise to everyone for the radio silence 🖤 Who knew a new year would be so busy?

𝐋𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐒𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐬 Platonic 141 x Male ! Reader

Summary: You got fried by lightning on your last mission, and the team only now see the consequences during a hot day. Keywords: Platonic, male reader, as always I make Price the team dad, mentioning of being struck by lightning, and there is medical inaccuracies. Wordcount: 1098.

“Fuckin’ hell, what’s this weather about?” Johnny complains, fanning himself with a magazine he nicked from Kyle five minutes ago. He’s splayed out on a cheap folding chair, comically reminding you of a plethora of renaissance paintings portraying women in all sorts of emotional states. Grief, mostly.

Sweaty, sweaty grief.

“Jesus,” you mutter in solemn agreement. Your shirt is starting to feel clammy, and the more you think about it, the more constricted you feel. The fabric is clinging to every curve of your muscled flesh, and it’s icky to say the least. You glance around at the others and their varying states of distress.

Out of your ragtag team, Simon seems the least bothered.

He’s sitting near Johnny—a choice he probably regrets at this point—tattooed, muscular arms folded over his chest in silence. You have your suspicions that he’s enjoying the warmth, or maybe he simply enjoys Johnny suffering. If anything, he looks peaceful. Eyes shut closed, but with a subtle furrow to his brow. You haven’t seen him this peaceful in a long, long while.

A little off to the side of Simon, Kyle and Price are discussing something you can’t hear, nor something you particularly care about. It’s too hot for thinking, especially on a day where you’re all off duty.

It’s only a day, but you’ll take any R&R you can get with the team. Fortunately, or unfortunately, you’re granted a longer rest than them.

Unnecessary, in your own opinion, but Price wouldn’t hear a word of it.

Your attention drifts to Kyle who's pulling at the collar of his shirt, attempting to find solace in the billowing fabric. Given his expression, you doubt it was fruitful, and Price wipes his brow with a cool, damp towel. Fanning himself with his boonie hat.

Johnny seems to have the right idea. He tossed his shirt minutes ago, leaving it to hang somewhere with little care. Something Price reprimanded him for, but who’s picking a fight in this heat?

So you follow suit, peeling off your olive green t-shirt, grimacing when you notice the blotches of sweat decorating it. At least you’re free from it now. You haphazardly hang it from one of the tent’s wires to dry—to get it out of the way—before rolling your shoulders. Better. Freer.

“Holy shit!”

You peer over your shoulder, brow arched at the sound of your teammate’s surprise. You find Johnny slack-jawed and with eyes as big as a bug’s. It would have been endearing, had he not been a grown man—alright, maybe it’s a little endearing.

You can’t really blame him. What you have on your back is a unique phenomenon.

A beautiful, fern-like pattern is spread across your back, spidering over your skin in an almost haunting manner. The spiralling branches have long since faded against your skin, and soon, they will remain a memory in your mind.

At a glance, many might chalk it up to an ageing tattoo.

“Best close your mouth, Johnny, or you might catch a fly,” you tease, earning you a chuckle from your Kyle. A deserved one. Price watches over the team with mild amusement, shaking his head before returning his attention to the mission brief.

“Does it hurt?” Johnny asks, and when you look over your shoulder again, you see him watching your back, still bug-eyed, and still with the fascination of a child. “Is it permanent?” He’s closer now, hunched over, and you feel the ghost of his breath against your bare back. You can almost feel his fingers dancing across your skin. Almost.

“Fuck sake, Johnny, give him some space, will you?” Simon lazily, but swiftly, kicks one of the flimsy plastic chairs towards the two of you, and it catches Johnny off guard enough to cause him to stumble into you. His warm hands now, positively, on your back.

Luckily, you’re a soldier with your feet firmly in the ground. There’ll be no falling over today.

You snort in vague amusement, keeping your back turned to the group. “No, it’s not permanent.” You feel Johnny trace the intricate lines of your injury. The rough texture of his fingertips makes you shiver.

“It’s called a Lichtenberg Figure. It’s the result of being struck by lightning,” you explain, recounting what had been told to you, the moment you woke up. “Apparently.”

“Huh,” Kyle says, mildly impressed, “inflammatory response?”

“Got it in one.”

“Looks good on you—glad you're alright, though.”

You sit a little straighter with your sore muscles and preen, absorbing the compliment like dry soil does rain. You click your tongue as you send a wink Kyle’s way, subtly nodding your head in thanks.

“When did this happen?” asks Simon as you turn to face the crowd, rolling your shoulders. He’s wearing a casual mask, obscuring the lower part of his face. It’s unnecessary, really, you have all seen his face, but you also know it brings him comfort. You also recognise the telltale tone of concern in his voice.

Annoyed concern, if anything.

He doesn’t like being kept out of the loop, especially not when it comes to the team.

There’s a subtle fluster on your cheeks as you avert your eyes towards the tent’s roof.

“During my last mission? There was a reason I got rushed to the infirmary when I returned.” You pause, crossing your arms across your chest. For someone who was struck by lightning, you are unnervingly casual about it. “Mostly to confirm I was alright after the initial checkup. Which I am.” You part a hand from the fold, gesturing in John’s general direction. “So if you could tell our dear captain here, that I’m fine enough to join you guys on the miss—”

“Nice try. You ain’t goin’ nowhere except to the infirmary for daily checkups,” Price counters, chuckling at your childish expression of disbelief. You know his firmness comes from a place of care, but you’re not appreciating the smug aura that lingers behind it. Was it not for this heat—and that he was your captain—you would flick the hat off him.

“Whatever,” you mumble, settling back into your chair.

“Whatever what?”

“Whatever, sir;” you correct, attempting to keep the smile off your face.

“Atta boy.”

The time passes slowly in the heat, and a part of you can’t help but appreciate it. You hate leaving the team behind, but what’s worse, is when they have to leave you behind. Your frown is subtly hidden behind the bottle of water as you take a sip, eyes casually watching each of your teammates. Your friends.

Just come back safe, guys.

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bruciemilf · 2 years

Text

ACTUALLY, you guys WILL listen to my Bruce & Officer Martinez brain rot because they have Peak " grumpy sunshine " and " asshole sunshine" dynamic and I'm not letting it go

Here's the thing about Jim Gordon; He has patience; He has tact. But he's also a petty shit, and God almighty, he WARNED Batman to stop his solo crime busting for extra dangerous cases

So yes; He gestures to Martinez, sugar cream on his moustache, files overfilling his arms. He tries to wave. They fall everywhere. ''This is your divine punishment "

"... Did you really just refer to Martinez as a punishment?"

" Honestly, I'm just happy to be included!"

Martinez is still SUPER sketchy about Batman, but of course he freaks out in the Batmobile; Yes, it's from the back-seat, but it still MATTERS, - " You know, my aunt is actually a mechanic, and-"

And that's the second thing Bruce writes about him in his profile journal; First thing being 'Talks too much.' Second is Family man.

But he actually listens to everything because it's comforting to know Gotham allows some love to survive.

And Bruce REFERENCES all stories. When they investigate different sources he's like " This is a professional dismemberment. We should ask your brother's opinion"

" My brother?" " I'd ask mine, but I don't have one." " No asshole I mean - you know my brother's a surgeon? You listen to me?" " I always listen."

FIGHTING OVER THE RADIO! GIVE IT TO ME! BECAUSE YOU JUST KNOWWWW BRUCE PLAYS THREE DAYS GRACE AND SKILLET AND MY CHEMICAL ROMANCE

" you listen to this shit??? Unironically?? THIS is REAL music" and then-

" GIMME GIMME GIMME A MAN AFTER MIDNIGHT-"

And also a ton of Nicki Minaj. " PULL UP IN THE MONSTER AUTOMOBILE GANGSTA-"

Bruce almost rearranges his whole skeleton right there; Martinez eventually figures out that it's Bruce's special interest so he apologises, " I'm sorry I called you out on your terrible taste. We can listen to that Bridge song or whatever"

*shaking with rage* " It's. Not. Called. That."

Literally give me Martinez whining Bruce's ear off until they reach a drive through, and Bruce is just standing there like a STATUE

Martinez leveled up to front seats and is rubbing his hands together like a greedy gremlin, but Bruce does Not move. " Welcome to Bat Burger can I take your order? Hello?" And Bruce is just. Petrified

" Can I had- have, can I - um,"

" what was that?"

" ... Burger"

He pins Martinez face to headboard and makes him SWEAR he won't tell anyone about it but Martinez is too busy laughing his ass off

Martinez always talking about Bruce, - He gave my sister a job as a security guard after she got out of prison. Murdering her rapist, you know how it is

"... I don't, actually." " Well yeah, you grew up in the good part of town, probably" "There's no good part. Only good coincidences."

"... Oh yeah, you're DEFINETLY rich."

Martinez and Selina strangers to enemies, 500k words, slow burn.

Martinez is a dog boy and she's a cat girl. It was expected. She kicks his seat in the Batmobile and he readjusts his chair as LOW as possible just to annoy her

" Crazy cat lady KNOWS something. "

" Don't call her that."

" I don't have to, her smell does it for me, - wait. Are you... Are you HOT for her? SERIOUSLY?"

And so what if Bruce's fast feels hot under his cowl? " Now's not really the time for a jealous scene."

" Oh I'M not jealous, bro. She's in your pants, I'm your emergency contact and organ donor. We aren't even in the same highway."

" ...When did you do that?"

" We don't have time to talk about all that-"

Martinez super casually mentioning he knows Bruce's identity. " Thanks for your help, Mr. Wayne"

[SHOCKED SILENCE]

" How... How did you?"

" BRO. I'd know that jawline in death."

#bruce wayne #batman #the batman #batman 2022 #officer martinez #jim gordon #selina kyle #dc comics #dc #dcu #battinson #text #text post #headcanons #REBLOG THIS #(please)

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ughgoaway · 5 months

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also omg?¿ you've probably seen the clips of matty completely breaking character upon seeing gabbriette in the front row (😭😭) like stop i literally cannot take how cute they are but....... its giving spotting teacher reader in the crowd and the way he just m e l t s entirely (the band teasing him after and even annie jumping in oh bye!!)

(he can't help but keep looking your way and the way he absolutely can't stop his smile from growing oh its so bad i fear...)

- (bff anon also needs to learn to stfu)

(THIS IS SO LATE I APOLOGISE BESTIE)

(its also not proofread so apologies for that too)

omg yes I literally must've watched those clips about 20 times over, every new angle that pops up I am LOOKING.

okay, okay, I'm imagining this is after you're already together and have been for a little bit. Obviously, you can't go on tour with him because you do have a job, and matty is MOPEY.

like he just won't stop waiting by the phone for you to text him. Anytime anyone's phone goes off, matty is jumping to his phone to check if it's you. Time difference makes it difficult, but you facetime and text as much as humanly possible.

even just little updates throughout the day, "the staff room had run out of tea bags. call the police." or "I know I shouldn't say this about a student, but ohmygod, timmy o'donnel might be the dumbest kid I've ever worked with. he'd 6, and he STILL spells his name with just one m. HOW!??!?"

sometimes, matty can't respond straight away (much to his disappointment), but when he gets back from sound check to see a text from you? my man is SWOONING. the boys all make fun of him for how giddy he gets, "dude you're like a teenage girl in a movie kicking her legs in bed and twirling the chord around her finger" "shut up"

It's not term time (do other countries call it that? like school time?? idk), so Annie is with Matty, but you're still in work on staff training days. the most boring days according to you

"I mean kids are hard work, but so is having to sit in a room with Mr. Smith for 5 hours as he tries to flirt with me" (needless to say, Matty is NOT a fan of Mr. Smith after this comment, but you assure him that no one could ever get you away from him, and you then tease him about the pink dusting on his cheeks when he hears that)

so one day, when Matty doesn't get a good morning text from you, his heart breaks a little, but he figured you had just woken up late and forgotten. but then lunch rolls around, and usually you Facetime and chat while you're on break, but still, radio silence.

he's worried, are you mad at him? Did he say something wrong? he messages asking if you're okay, but 5 minutes before he's due on stage, there's still no response. To say he's sad is an understatement. Everyone knows to give him a little space today because he is out of sorts.

but also, they know you're coming. you managed to convince your boss that you're sick (think mean girls "*cough cough" I'm sick") and sneak away to come to the Paris show. You had told the boys your plan, expecting some pushback or judgment. But, you got a unanimous "thank god" message because if they had to deal with matty missing you for one more day, they'd fly you out themselves.

you meet Mark outside, and he gets you in and has a spot at the front of the pit waiting for you. you are buzzing to see Matty, and you can't wait until he notices you in the crowd. You're wearing merch that you stole from his drawer, so you're hoping that will catch his eye.

matty gets on stage and distracts himself from thinking of you the whole show. The crowd is crazy tonight, and it's giving him the energy he needs. you're on Ross' side, and he clocks you immediately, waiting until Matty isn't looking when he waves at you sneakily.

the girls around you scream and swoon because who wouldn't when Ross waves at them? you giggle and wave back, but your eyes are immediately drawn back to Matty.

ever since that first concert, your eyes have been drawn to Matty, and seeing them live means so much more to you after that show. seeing it just brings you back to the night of your first kiss (working on this fic btw) and you feel giddy at the sight of him all smiley and dancey.

the good crowd and the sight of annie dancing around at the side of the stage keep matty pretty distracted, so for a good few songs, he doesn't notice you. but when he finally does? it's obviously to everyone in that room that he is looking at something he loves.

he is doing his usual stage antics but stops on the spot and does a double take when he sees you. you can hear the smile in his voice as he sings, but considering how wide it is on his face, you've sure the entire venue could see it anyway.

he finishes the song, doing his best to connect with the whole crowd, but he can not stop his eyes from drifting over to you. by the end of the song, he mouths to you, "I love you," whilst laughing in disbelief, and you just giggle and teasingly wave at him.

now does he call it out on stage??? perhaps... I think if he does he doesn't point you out or say your name he simply says, "I've just spotted by girlfriend in the audience, she's totally surprised me by being here so if the rest of the show is shit- you all know why"

I like to think the fans know matty has a gf but nothing else, no name or what you look like. because you're a non celeb, and he doesn't want you to have to deal with everything he does, and you don't mind either. any way you can stay out of the daily mail you're happy with

the show finishes, and it's not shit like matty said it's amazing as always. you get ushered off just before it ends to stand side stage waiting for matty.

you greet Annie when you get up there though, she's ecstatic to see you and asks whether you're staying, and you tell her you're there for the whole weekend and she shrieks and hugs you again and again. before the boys come off stage, someone comes and grabs Annie to wait in the green room. It's what's safest when there's so much commotion and movement.

she wanders off just as the boys come off stage, and you are immediately engulfed with just matty.

he hugs you, initially holding you tight and burrowing his face into your neck. He smells vaguely of sweat, wine, and cigs but somehow still smelt good.

he pulls back and hold you face between his hands, staring at you and flicking his eyes all over your face as if to confirm it's really you.

Once they hit your lips, he seems to remember he hasn't kissed you yet, so without a second thought, he pulls you in for a passionate kiss. you immediately moan at the contact, and matty uses the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth. your hands rake through his sweaty curls.

a wolf whistle from Ross breaks you apart, and you immediately go red and hide in mattys shoulder, he's of course, unashamed and simply throws Ross a wink, which makes everyone around you burst out laughing.

about an hour later, you're all sat in the green room, and the teasing begins;

"mate you should've seen your face I thought you were about to faint"

"I don't think I've seen your eyes go that wide since Sarah Marshall flashed you her tits at your 18th" (George covers Annie's ears as he shares this anecdote, much to her annoyance)

"I'm surprised you remembered the lyrics after that. You forget them at the best of times"

"OKAY, OKAY, let's all calm down, enough of the teasing, please," matty begs

"You did look very funny though daddy" annie says with a giggle fiddling with ross' hair as she sits in his lap.

everyone laughed at Annie's comment and she lit right up, matty however groaned and burrowed his head into your chest, you teasingly said "there there, it's so hard being a simp I know baby" whilst petting his head.

the laughter continues, and he pulls back with a gasp, open-mouthed at your cheeky comment. but he soon settles back on the sofa and pulls you into his side, and before long, Annie comes running over and burrows herself in between the two of you.

both you and annie fall asleep on the sofa, and matty sneaks a picture before he wakes you up to go to the hotel.

it's his background for the next 6 months.

(also bff, never stfu I literally love you)

blurb masterlist here :)

#this has been in my drafts for a minute #oopsie #but yes simp matty supremacy.#he loves his girl... so what????#annie would so take the piss of him bc she loves how it makes her uncles giggle #sometimes they feed her lines #teacher au!#anon!#bff anon <33333

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