#i made the gifs ages ago & got stuck

[tarjapearce]

Strawberry Jam (+18)

Dad friend AU!Miguel x fem!reader

Inspired in THIS ask <3 Thanks anon. Hope you like c:

PT. 2

WARNING: SMUT, Age gap, breeding kink, fang kink, choking, rough sex, brief tension, slight fluff.

"Rise and shine, cupcake!" Curtains were drawn out as sunlight seeped in your dim lit room. You groaned in response, trying to cocoon yourself under the sheets.

"C'mon, sweetie. I gotta meet a client in a coupe of hours, need you awake to receive some packages." Silence. He sighed, "I'll bring you some flan." You yawned and smiled. Of course he would, you were his spoiled girl. He had raised you well despite the rocky relationship with your mother.

Someone that had decided to not be a part of your life for quite a while, leaving your dad a good chunk of the responsibility. At least, she provided enough for your college. An agreement that had settled up a long time ago by a judge.

"Make it napolitan, please" He chuckled and kissed your temple. "Oh, forgot to mention, Miguel is coming over to help you."

"Miguel?"

And of course, it had put a toll on his mental health, during the last couple of years. As a father, your father, he was anything but perfect, but he made sure to be there, to always support you. He had met Miguel in one of those support groups for men, and things sort of snowballed from there. Your dad and Miguel had alot in common, single parents, demanding jobs, and unconditional love for their daughters.

You had the chance to meet him a couple of times during college vacations, at first he was intimidating to you. 6'9", a hard look on his face that seemed to only melt away with his close ones, and a hulking muscular figure.

But now, every time you visited you'd find his blue Aston Martin Vanquish parked outside your house, beer in hand, screaming at the screen as a soccergame was on. He wasn't a stuck up guy (Like your neighbors had described him once), despite having flooding money in his account.

His daughter was in one of the best private schools in town after all, thanks to his job at Alchemax. He even got you a lovely gold necklace for your 21st birthday after ruffling your hair, something that annoyed you, since you weren't a child. He had came into your lives' two years ago.

"Yeah,some of the packages are his. He was out of town to get them, so I offered to receive them." The doorbell rang, announcing his presence. Your dad left and you sat on your bed and checked your phone.

Of course, your friends would be always asking about him, one of them even dared to ask if you had fucked him already once they saw you wearing the golden necklace. You knew he was off limits. Mostly out of respect for your dad, and of course, the weird feeling that he just saw you as his friend's daughter.

You stood up to prepare for the day, as uneventful as it would be. Hot shower with sweet smelling products, to then change into a pair of gray sweatpants, bunny slippers and a tanktop, washed your teeth and brushed your damp hair. Then, you came down the stairs only to find Miguel sitting across your dad on the kitchen island, mug of steaming coffee on hands.

"Morning" you greeted him with a pat on the shoulder as you put a bagel into the toaster and served yourself some orange juice.

"Buenos días" Miguel greeted, his eyes following you as you moved through the kitchen. Your house was homey, cozy and perfect for the suburban life. Miguel wore a black buttoned jersey, dark jeans and dress shoes. A black belt accentuating his waist.

"Gotta go then, You're in charge" Your dad spoke, and patted his sturdy shoulder to then leave. You rolled your eyes.

"Anyways, want breakfast?"

"No, Thank you." His eyes were focused on the newspaper before him, that until you bent over to search for jam in the lower cabinets. His eyes were immediately to your rear. he sipped his coffee and hummed. The thin straps of the tank top slid off your shoulder. He closed his eyes, engraving the image in his mind. You sat across him, breakfast on a plate.

"Whatcha getting?" you munched in the bagel, a bit of jam smearing in the corner of your lips. Instinctively, he licked his own.

"Some playground for Gabriela." you nodded as you relished the flavor of your bagel. Licking off, the strawberry jam off your stained fingers. His eyes wandering to the way your lips trapped your fingers, the gold necklace adorning your little neck. It looked almost inviting.

"Glad to see you liked it. Gold looks good on you." You didn't know how his shirts fit him so well without bursting or tearing. His back had been lately the object of your new hyperfixation. You had seen jacked up guys in college, but Miguel was certainly in a whole different level.

"Thanks. It got me into a bit of trouble back in college actually." you snorted and drank your orange juice.

"How come?"

"Well,my friends think that I've got myself a sugar daddy."

His eyes twinkled in amusement, an idea seemed to be popping in his mind.

"Funny they think that when you still keep smearing jam on your face. Come here" He took your hand and pulled you across the kitchen island, even though he was sitting, he still towered over you. You barely reached his chin. He cupped your face, your sweet breath fanned his lips. He pouted as his face inched closer.

"Pero qué muchachita tan desastrosa." He mumbled, as he wiped the jam off the corner of your lips to then lick it off his finger. Your eyes went wide, cheeks flushed as you swallowed.

"D-Dad would kill you if he'd see you like this"

"Good thing he isn't around, hm?"

"You're the same age" your voice almost a whisper as he kept cupping your face with a single hand as the other one pulled you closer to him, "You could even be my father!"

Your heart thumped hard against your chest, his warm, coffee-like smelling breath brushed over your lips.

"But I'm not." his hands roamed your shoulders, the straps of your tanktop peeled away under his touch, the fabric slid lower and lower as it hovered over the curvature of your breast.

The doorbell rang. You both froze.

"Puta madre…" he seethed and stood, towering even more over you, "I'll get it. Stay put."

"But-"

"Stay.Put." His finger pointing at you as he disappeared back to the livingroom.

Your mind was still trying to process what just happened. You could hear Miguel exchange peasantries with the delivery man as he received an array of boxes. Your straps were slid back on their original position, and your phone buzzed. "Dad <3" on screen. You picked up.

"Hey"

"Hello, how's everything going?"

"Dad it's just been twenty minutes. But at least the packages just came."

"Careful with a small box, it has some fragile things."

The main door was closed.

"Oh? ok. Uh… You coming home soon?"

"Why, is there a problem?"

Big hands covered your shoulders to pull the upper part of the tanktop down, breast spilled from their confinement. Miguel's hands cupped them and gave gentle squeezes as his mouth kissed your neck.

"N-No, no no. Just asking so I can make-" You bit your lip, drowning a gasp as he toyed with your nipples, "E-Enough lunch for both"

Your hand covered your mouth as his teeth grazed your skin. Somthing you found interesting about Miguel was the fact he seemed to have larger canines than the average people. Whenever he was angry, you could see a glimpse of his pointy teeth underneath his plump lips.

He gave soft love bites, licking the skin. Your skin shivered.

"Ah, don't you worry about it, I might get there until night it seems. Anyways, see ya later, love you cupcake."

Miguel stopped for a moment.

"Love you too." You hung up the call, Miguel removed the phone from your hands and twirled you around to kiss you deeply. His hands fisting your hair to hold you in place as his tongue invaded your mouth with such expertise it made your legs feel like jelly. You gasped as she pressed you closer to his body, warmth spreading all over yours.

Miguel nipped at your bottom lip, and placed you ontop of the kitchen island with ease, bunny slippers falling off your feet as they dangled. He unbuttoned his shirt and removed the piece of cloth on the dining table.

"W-Wait! Shouldn't we better go-"

"Shh." His fingers hooked on the hem of your sweatpants and pulled down along your panties. Smooth skin revealed to his eyes. He pulled your hips closer and dragged a finger down your folds to then ease it inside you slowly. He hissed at the moist and warm feeling, he retrieved the finger back and licked it clean, groaning.

"Riquísimo, preciosa" His hands maneuvered your legs like a toy, he spreaded them to then push them back to expose even more flesh. Your mouth fell open as he dribbled the tip of his tongue around the knub of nerves and then drag it down and up your entrance.

Yelping, you held tight on the sturdiness of the island. His mouth disappeared between your slick folds, your breath caught in your throat as he sucked eagerly at your clit while his tongue flickered.

Your sweet coos and moanings only urged him to hold on you tightly, he moved his head to the sides increasing the intensity of his eating. Your hips grind against his tongue, seeking for relief, but he stopped you, a choked whine from your throat.

"Look at you" He put your hips back on the cold tiles, to then unbuckling his belt. "What would your dad think if he saw you like this?" He pulled you off the island, to then bend you over it. One of his feet, kicked away the clothes.

"All spread for me, eager to be filled up" He slapped your pusy softly as he pulled his underwear and pants down, also kicking them away, "Wanna make him a grandpa?" Your eyes went wide, panic surged through your mind but he pushed your torso flat against the cold surface. His legs separating your own.

His fingers prodded inside once more before coating his cock and as gently as he could, eased his way inside you. The stretching of his cock had you biting your lip and gripping softly at his wrist.

"Ohmy god" you half whimpered, slurred as he filled you completely.

"Estás tan apretada, mami" He kneaded your trembling hips. One hand held you in place as the other one twisted in your lowered tanktop. His hips rolled slowly. He wanted to make sure you were comfortable enough before his hips smacked yours with enough force to make you lurch forward, air knocked out of your lungs. You were on your tip toes. His hand slapped your ass as it bounced back and forth on his cock.

"Such a good girl" he grunted and sunk his nails on your hips, "Te voy a coger tan bien que cada vez que entres a este lugar, te acuerdes de mi." His hand freed the tanktop to take a fistful of your hair and pulled back. He had gone to ruffle your hair, to pull it.

Your arching gave him the perfect spot to ram into. So ever tight and hot. You hissed as an array of lewd cursing flew out your mouth. His balls slapped your flesh mercilessly.

"Con esa boca le dices a tu papá que lo amas?" he clicked his tongue in feigned disapproval. He let your hip go, hands immediately hooking underneath your right thigh and hoisted it up, spreading you like a book, pounding deeper and rougher into you.

Your pants and desperate moanings drowned his growling. Your body felt on fire, a thin layer of sweat covered your body, his torso glistened in sweat. His front bangs had fell onto his face by the constant movement.

You held onto his forearm, contorting your torso up, to see his lust blown face. His hands made sure to hold you tightly, preventing from falling. Big eyes stared at him, too lost in sinful thoughts as he pressed closer, deeper into you.

"Fuck me" You choked a sob as your orgasm approached. Your voice too coarse from the constant mewling.

"Just like this, mami?" he breathed before hoisting your leg a bit wider, you whimpered, nodded and clawed at his arms. You begged him to not stop, your orgasm was around the corner as he rawed you silly.

Your inner thighs and outher flesh were flushed by the constant rough slapping of his hips, the hand that held your leg, snaked its way towards your neck, squeezing tighly, your leg dangled and swayed at the rythm of his thrust.

"Come for daddy, preciosa" he groaned as his thrustings turned erratic and sloppier, slickness rolling down your sopping pussy and inner thighs.

"Fuck fuck fuckfu-" He let your leg go and held you tightly against him. your feet barely touching the floor, your torso once more flat against the cool tiles of the island as he painted your walls white with a guttural growl. It earned him a shaky and loud mewl.

"Te ves tan bella así, toda llena de mí." He picked you up and kissed you on the lips, "You alright?"

You nodded and panted, legs trembling.

"We gotta… clean up" he nodded with a smirk.

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

"Hey cupcake?"

"Hm?" You were sat on the solo couch, browsing through your phone as Miguel sat in the couch nearby. Your dad had arrived an hour after you were done cleaning yourselves. Something that had nearly turned into round two if it wasn't for the fact that your dad had called in to announce he was on his way back.

"Did you cook something?"

"Eh no, why?"

"Kitchen smells funky." Your eyes widened, as Miguel went stiff. You had been too engrossed in eachother that barely had the time to clean after your mess. Your dad went back to the kitchen to get himself a beer. It had been an uneventful evening for him, he was gone two hours but it was good enough for him to get a new sponsor to his remodeling contractors firm.

You shared a nervous glance with Miguel. Your dad groaned annoyed.

"(Name)"

Uh Oh. He only used your name when he was pissed.

"Yes, dad?"

"Look, your… sex life is none of my concern, really. But from all the places you could… do such thing, was the kitchen necessary? And you, I told you to keep an eye on her." He scowled at Miguel. You hung your head in embarrasment as Miguel chuckled with his hands up defensively.

"Who was it?"

"W-What?"

"Whose the guy, so I can talk to him, to not pull this… stunt again. You're better than that, (Name)"

"Hey, relax. Go easy on her." Miguel spoke

"Shut up, O'Hara."

"C'mon, you probably acted worse when you were her age. Remember when you told me about the time you-"

"Miguel, stop." Your face went as red as a tomato and your dad sighed. He looked between you and Miguel, and you could swear the five stages of grief going through his face at the sudden realization.

"You fucked my daughter…"

"Dad, stop!"

"Dad, nothing! Go to your room, now."

"You can't ground me, I'm old enough to-"

"To what? Be a step mom? Fuck older guys that could be your father? You don't know what you are getting into, young lady."

"You out of everyone know that I'll never do something that would put her in danger."

"Miguel, I don't know how your brain works right now, but You.Fucked.My.Daughter. My Daughter! The last thing I want is her being a mother before she finishes college."

"She won't be. That's a promise."

"Damn right it is, cause you won't be seeing her anymore."

"W-What? Dad!"

"I thought you were in your room, like I fucking told you."

"Don't talk to her like that." Miguel frowned

"My daughter, my house, my rules. You need to leave."

"You're angry, I get it. It was wrong of me to cross you like that, but she is old enough to know what she wants. I would never force her to do something she doesn't wants to do." Miguel spoke with his hands still in defense.

"For how long have you… been doing this?"

"It was the first time, actually" you spoke meekly from the doorframe.

"Like, you're always complaining about the few guys I introduce you to-"

"This is different!" you had never seen him so serious and angry.

Silence stretching too long, your dad sighed, annoyed.

"I fucking… I fucking swear, O'Hara. If you get her pregnant, I'll fucking kill you."

"Relax, I'm not making you a grandpa." Your dad's shoulder slumped, defeated.

"Yet." They went tense again.

"Oh my god." Your need to be swallowed by the earth underneath and to spit you away from them only increased as their conversation kept unfolding.

"So, now the surprise has been popped, that means I have your permission to properly date her?" Your dad rubbed his face tiredly.

"I wanna make things right." Miguel glanced at you.

"I've known you for a couple of years, and you've met her ever since she was eighteen. You're not a bad man, but trust me when I say that if this girl, my girl, comes here with tears in her face because you did something stupid to her, we're done. Understood?"

"Por supuesto" he went to your side and pulled you closer.

"And clean up this fucking mess."

He left to his room and left you alone. Of course you'd talk to him later, when everything was a bit more calm. Miguel on the other hand kissed your temple and sighed in relief.

"So…"

"So…"

"Sunday night, at 6 for dinner?"

"Sure."

"Don't worry, he'll be fine. Just give him time to get used to it."

"What if he never gets used to it?"

he kissed your hand

"You'll come with me"

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

Buenos días- Good Morning

Pero qué muchachita tan desastrosa- What a messy girl

Puta madre- Fucking shit

Riquísimo, preciosa- So delicious, gorgeous

Estás tan apretada,mami - You're so tight, mami

Te voy a coger tan bien que cada vez que entres a este lugar, te acuerdes de mi- I'll fuck you so good that every time you enter this place, you'll remember me

Con esa boca le dices a tu papá que lo amas?- With that mouth you tell daddy you love him?

Te ves tan bella así, toda llena de mí - You look so beautiful like that, all full of me.

Por supuesto- Of course.

#miguel o'hara #spiderman 2099 x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x reader #atsv miguel #miguel o'hara smut #female reader #atsv x reader #atsv fanfiction #atsv smut #spider man 2099 smut

[incognit0slut]

Lose Control

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Spencer finds himself locked in a room with his rival. Based on:

warning: 18+ explicit content including oral (both), hair-pulling, chocking, and unprotected, semi-public, hate sex

words: 6.8k (I'm a smut-with-a-plot kind of person)

a/n: this is not enemies to lovers. This is, quite frankly, enemies to (fuckable) enemies. Also, we hit 1.2k followers!! Tysm!! I legit made this blog 2 months ago that’s crazyyy😳

MASTERLIST

“…mind games until you lose control…”

CHANGE WAS INEVITABLE WHEN IT CAME TO HIS WORK. Spencer encountered many great people walking through the door of the bureau throughout the years he worked as a profiler. Most of them he genuinely liked, and most of them he considered more than mere colleagues. But from all the people he had to work with, there was one person he really couldn't stand.

"Move out of the way, Reid, you're blocking the way."

He turned to see the last person he wanted to indulge in standing close to him, a hand on her hip and a frown on her face. "There is literally enough space for you to pass through."

"And jeopardize myself by touching you?" She wrinkled her nose. "I think I'll pass."

His gaze, usually warm and welcoming, hardened into a steely resolve. It pierced through her like an icy dagger, radiating an unmistakable contempt. He then backed away, walking further into the room that held rows of shelving units lining up the space. "What are you even doing here?"

"Well, ever since we found the victim's body surrounded by those cryptic signs, it reminded me of the cult massacre which happened in—"

"St. Joseph, 1947," he finished.

"Yeah, although this isn't mass murder, I thought the nature of the death was very similar to that old case." He could practically hear the smugness in her voice as she continued, "I also knew you'd be here and wanted to beat you to it."

His gaze settled on her standing by the door. "I don't think that's going according to plan considering I was here before you arrived."

"Please, you just got here. I bet I can find the files before you do."

His brows furrowed. How could he not feel some kind of disdain when she was acting the way she was? One might say he was acting too immature for his age, for a man who was close to pushing forty he did consider himself too old for petty fights. But it was hard to keep his composure when she was often the one taunting him, ridiculing him with that haughty mouth of hers.

It was better to ignore her presence completely, so he did just that, focusing his attention on the files in front of him as she stepped into the room.

She frowned, feeling her throat clenching before coughing out loud as dust particles greeted her entrance. She was busy trying to swat the specks of dust away from her face when something solid suddenly nudged her feet. Her eyes swept towards the floor.

"Why is this massive book laying here?" She picked up the thick paperback and read its title. "The Anatomy of Motive?"

Spencer's head snapped in an alert. "Wait! Don't—"

But it was too late. The old wooden door hanging loosely on its rusted hinges creaked without any support to keep it ajar, and with a resounding thud, it closed, the sound echoing through the stagnant air. "I put that there for a reason," he grumbled. "And now we're stuck here."

She leaned forward and wrapped her hand around the handle, trying to yank the door open. The panic on her face was evident when it didn't budge. "Shit."

"You can only open it from the other side."

She turned towards him. "Do you have your phone with you?"

"No."

She groaned because her own device was also securely tucked in her bag. Not wanting to be locked in a room with the last person she wanted to be with, she started pounding on the door frantically. "Help! Penelope! Luke!" Bang. Bang. "Anyone!"

"Nobody's going to hear you."

She tuned him out.

"Emily! JJ!" She pressed herself against the door, drawing her mouth close towards the tiny gap between the wooden panel and the wall. "Help! We're locked in!" She suddenly caught his movement from the corner of her eyes and turned to him, noticing the way he was already studying a file.

"What are you doing?"

He slipped back the document into the cabinet and went through the other folders. "Might as well work until they realize we're gone."

She straightened herself and glanced at the watch around her wrist. "But it's late. What if everyone's gone home and we're stuck here for the night?" A thought struck her and she looked up in horror. "Or for days?"

"Then you have yourself to blame."

She glared at him. "You're not helping."

Spencer looked up to see her jaw clenching, accentuating the sharp angles of her face. Her normally composed features, so delicately balanced, now seemed to unravel in a heat of fury. It was the only expression she held every time she had to deal with him.

He glanced away and focused back on his task. "Don't worry, we have a team of competent profilers. If they can find dangerous criminals throughout the country, they can also find their two missing agents."

She considered his words and acknowledged the truth behind them, so she reluctantly moved to the other side of the room, going through the shelves opposite of him. The space went completely still as they both went through the stack of folders shelved between the old cabinets. It wasn't until curiosity got the better of him that he finally looked up, his eyes falling onto her form.

Her back was facing him, giving him a view of her tousled hair falling down over her shoulders. His eyes involuntarily trailed the contours of her body, betraying a mixture of intrigue and curiosity. His gaze lingered upon the gentle curve of her shoulder, the graceful line of her spine, and the sway of her hips as she moved onto the next shelf, her steps echoing through the silence and it was then he realized she was wearing heels.

Again.

This wasn't the first time she decided to wear shoes that looked very uncomfortable to wear. Who even wore heels in this line of work? Being an FBI agent meant you had to be quick on your feet because anything could happen unexpectedly. He once voiced out his opinion on this matter, which she only answered with, "My choice of clothing won't reduce the capability of my brain, Reid. You and I are still doctors even if I wear a bathing suit to work."

"It's not about your choice of clothing, it's about being practical."

"That's why I keep a pair of sneakers in my drawers,” she had haughtily replied, then narrowed her eyes at him. "And don't comment on my shoes when I've held myself from judging on your ugly cardigans."

His cardigans were not ugly.

He shook the memory away as eyes roamed over her again, noticing her very exposed legs. She was also wearing a skirt today, something she often did and something he never dared to have an opinion on, knowing she would probably bite his head off if he did.

"Stop staring at me."

Spencer cleared his throat at being caught. "I wasn't."

"I could practically feel your eyes on me." She looked over her shoulder. "I have great spidey senses."

There was a sudden pause. "Spidey senses?"

"Yeah, like Spiderman." When he didn't respond, she turned around and faced him. "Please tell me you know who Spiderman is?"

When he returned her gaze with a frown, she couldn't help but laugh, turning her back towards him again. "You know this is why people like me better than you. We both may be smart, but you got to admit, my knowledge doesn't simply stop on academics."

He should've been offended by her words, he should've countered back a vile reply, but her voice became white noise to him as he watched her body leaning down, picking up a document that slipped from her grasp. His eyes caught the way the tight skirt clung to her form like a second skin. The fabric, stretched taut against her curves, highlighted the alluring lines of her figure. The skirt's snug fit caressed her thighs, tracing their slender form and hinting at the softness beneath.

This wasn't the first time he noticed her beauty in this type of way, beneath all that glare she often carried whenever he was around her, he knew she was an attractive woman. It was her personality that often stopped him from marveling this insight. But being in this closed, tight space, Spencer was forced to study her, and with the way his body was reacting, he knew his lingering stare was more than simple admiration.

He could feel his blood pulsing down south, tightening underneath the confinement of his pants.

As she straightened herself, she felt a sudden shift in the atmosphere. She turned her head and noticed his eyes training on her body.

"You're still staring." She then caught a glimpse of something unguarded in his gaze, something that was definitely far from hatred. Her mind whirled with questions, trying to decipher the meaning behind it. "Stop looking at me like that."

A hint of a smile played on his lips. "Like what?"

"Like you either want to strangle me or—"

"Or?" He prompted.

Like you want to eat me alive.

It was the only way she could describe it. She was aware of how his eyes usually pierced her, how every movement she made or word she uttered could trigger this immense disdain radiating from him. But now the weight of his gaze bore down upon her, casting a palpable heat that danced across her skin. Something had changed, and she felt it in the intensity of his eyes, so different from the usual hostility she had come to expect.

They held a predatory gleam as if he could pounce on her at any moment.

“If I hadn't known you better," she carefully spoke, watching as he took a step towards her, and she took one back, bumping into the wall. "I'd say you're trying to flirt with me with those eyes."

"Me? Flirt with you?" He cocked an eyebrow. "Don't flatter yourself."

She scoffed, squaring her shoulders as he closed the distance between them. "You're right. What was I thinking? You can't even flirt to live."

"You don't even know how I flirt."

"Reid, I've seen you flirt," she said between fits of laughter. "Remember you tried getting that cop's number? You were stuttering and suddenly giving her facts about oil paintings. Paintings."

"She had an interest in fine art," he stated. "And if you must know, after giving those informative facts, I told that no amount of art could ever compare to her beauty as a compliment.”

She snorted, shaking her head in disbelief. "And that actually worked? She gave you her number?"

"No." Then a smirk curled on his lips. "But she did come home with me."

She frowned. That was new information. She never really thought about what went on in his love life, but hearing him implying his active sex life had her feeling strange. "She did?"

He took another step forward. "If I hadn't known you better," he carefully spoke, mimicking her words before. "I'd say you're jealous."

She tilted her head up and scowled at him. "Even if you were the last person on this planet I wouldn't consider breathing in the same air with you."

She waited for his response, but he didn't even seem to be bothered by her words. And as they stood there, holding each other's gaze, she became acutely aware of everything; their close proximity, the warmth radiating from his body, and the rise and fall of his chest. His unfamiliar scent lingered in the air, a distinct combination of earthy musk and a hint of something indefinable. She had never allowed herself to notice it before, but now it was impossible to ignore.

Her eyes then traced the lines on his face, sharp jaw, high cheekbones, and finally settled on his eyes. At first, she thought her eyes was deceiving her, but she knew exactly what held behind his gaze. It was the same expression she saw in all her past lovers. It wouldn’t have surprised her to see the same intensity on other men, but to see it on him? The guy who had always hated her guts the moment she corrected his statistic rants the first time they met?

Spencer fucking Reid?

It was too much for her to handle. She was used to his piercing gaze, his evident disdain. Not this. It became almost overwhelming that she decided to step away.

Just as she turned to retreat from the intensity of his gaze, her body froze as she felt warm fingers gripping her wrist. The contact sent a jolt through her body and her eyes snapped back at him. "What the hell are you doing?"

Ah, there it was, that hatred she was looking for blazing in his eyes again. "You see, I don't like you."

"Good." She held her chin up. "The feeling's mutual."

"You think you're better than everybody else, you think you're better than me."

She was about to retort another response when he suddenly yanked her, a gasp leaving her mouth. "But somehow I can’t help myself from wanting to taste you.”

Then it happened so fast. One moment she was trying to register what was happening, the next thing she knew his lips were on hers, moving frantically in desperate hunger. She couldn't believe he was actually kissing her. It also burned her up inside to find he was good at it. She wanted him to be all teeth and awkward so she could sneer at him and push him away, but he was holding her face in his hands like they hadn't spent months sniping at each other.

A turmoil of thoughts swarmed her mind—What are you doing? Why are you kissing him back? What the hell is wrong with you?—while she gripped onto his arm as a pleased sigh slipped through her mouth before she could catch it.

He slowly pulled away from her, eyes glittering in mischief. "Would you look at that?" he muttered, gripping her jaw and tilting her face like he was appraising her. "All bark and no bite."

She shoved his hands away from her face, ignoring how nice it had felt, wide and warm and firm. "Don't test me."

"Yeah?" His hand settled on her hip, pulling her against him deliberately slow, giving her every opportunity to knock his hand away, to sidestep him, to tell him to stop, but she didn't. He took it as a sign to run his hand behind her. "I think you're bluffing."

Her heart quickened when she felt him gently squeezing her ass. "A-About what?"

"All this bravado of yours," he taunted, his hands now trailing down to her sides. "I bet there's something sweet underneath all this bitterness."

"You don't know me," she hissed breathlessly. It was difficult to keep snapping back at him when his other hand ran up her leg, pushing her skirt up as he went, his grip encompassing the entire width of her thigh.

"Maybe not. But I'm always up for a challenge." His calloused hand brushed at the lacy edge of her underwear and she sucked in a shaky breath. "Let's see how long you can keep up with this attitude."

She opened her mouth to say something snippy, but he ducked down and kissed the words out of her mouth with a low groan. Her brain suddenly froze when his finger curled under the outline of her underwear and tugged it to the side, trailing his slender finger through her bare slit.

A smirk curled at the corner of his lips as pulled away, trailing his mouth along her jawline. His finger brushed along her slickness and it took a lot of self-control for her not to moan. "How are you already so wet?"

Although a small gasp emitted from her as she felt him sliding a finger, and when his thumb pressed against her clit, she closed her eyes, tossing her head to the side at the feeling of him filling her up.

"You're awfully quiet," he murmured against her neck, sucking a bruise against her soft skin as he began to pump his finger. "Who would've thought I had to touch you to keep your mouth shut."

She bit her bottom lip, fighting against the pleasure that surged through her, desperately trying to suppress the enjoyment coursing through her veins. "I hate you."

"No, you don't." His tone was vexingly calm, and all it did was rile her up more. She wished he'd match her frustration because his composure was annoying. Then to make matters worse, he let out an amused laugh. He fucking laughed. "Look at you trying to hold yourself back."

"I'm not—fuck." She gasped as she felt his finger curling inside her.

"Keep telling yourself that." He added another finger and she slumped against the wall, pressing back hard to keep herself upright as he pumped his wrist. "It's okay to admit you're enjoying this."

"I-I'm not," she huffed indignantly.

"Has anyone ever told you you're a bad liar?"

Her breath mingled with the sound of her arousal echoing in the narrowed space as he drove his fingers into her faster. "Shut up, Reid." She then grabbed onto his arm as the pleasure intensified, nails digging into his skin. "You think you're so smart, so full of yourself—"

"You really like picking up a fight, don't you? That's why you always have an attitude with me." His lips brushed her ear. "It gets you worked up. It gets you wet."

She quickly shook her head. "I just don't like you."

"Hmm." He leaned back and watched the way she tensed beneath his touch, her muscles coiling with delicate restraint. It was as if she fought against the pleasure that threatened to consume her, seeking to maintain control even as her body betrayed her desires. "I wonder if you'll like it as much if I put my head between your thighs."

The thought of having his face buried right where her arousal burned drove her over the edge. Her body betrayed her and she knew he could feel it too. "Oh wow, you're clenching around my fingers," he hummed in satisfaction. "Is that what you want? You want me to eat you out?"

"No," she mumbled but he found her hips bucking against his palm.

"Your body is saying otherwise." He withdrew his fingers but kept rubbing tight circles against her clit. Her blood was hammering under her skin and her legs shook as she tried to roll her hips up against his hand again. "Say you want me between your thighs."

She gritted her teeth, her muscles tightening in a valiant effort to hold back the mounting pleasure that begged to be unleashed. "I'm not saying that."

"Are you sure?" His other hand traveled along the back of her head before fisting her hair in his hand, exposing the column of her throat to him. "Don't you want to come all over my face?"

"Reid..." she mumbled hopelessly, her head spinning as his hot breath brushed against her skin. The thought of admitting that infuriated her because him actually getting her off was something she'd never live down. This was Spencer Reid, the man who had always infuriated her with his know-it-all statistics as if she hadn't already known half of the things he said.

But damn it, she really wanted him between her thighs.

"Say it," he repeated, moving his hand away entirely, and she grabbed his wrist desperately, pulling his fingers back to where she wanted them. "Say I want your mouth on me, Spencer, and I'll happily oblige."

"Reid—"

"Spencer," he corrected. "Say it."

Her body quivered, a taut wire stretched to its limit, yearning to snap under the weight of the pleasure that coursed through her. And then his finger suddenly stopped its movement and she knew he wasn't going to touch her again until she gave in. If that's how he wanted it, fine. She was going to consider this as one of their silly mind games, their usual banter whenever they tried to outwit one another. She could figure out a way to get back at him later. She could swallow her pride for now.

"I want your mouth on me," she reluctantly caved in.

"Did you forget my name?"

Unbelievable.

"I fucking hate you," she sneered. Then she pushed him away from the crook of her neck and leveled her gaze on him. "Just put your fucking mouth on me, Spencer."

He clicked his tongue disapprovingly. "You have a very foul mouth."

But true to his words, he eventually dropped to his knees, his hands trailing on either of her sides before he slipped her underwear down her legs. His fingers trailed along her skin as he did it, prickling the depth of her anticipation even when her mind was still trying to comprehend what she was letting herself in.

Because she had never thought of getting eaten out at work, let alone with someone she hated. Sure, hate was a very strong word, but it was what she was used to feeling whenever it came to him. It was easy to engross her hatred every time he treated her differently from the others.

Hate she could do, it came naturally to her. But to desire him, actually wanting him to bury his face between her thighs, was starting to mess her up, and not in a bad way. Not in a way that had her feeling repulsed, but in a way that made her want to grab onto his hair and pull his face right at the center of her heat.

Spencer looked up at her and smiled, as if he knew what she was thinking, and pushed up her skirt around her hips. His eyes bored into her as he hiked one of her legs onto his shoulder. His gaze traveled down her body, taking in her flushed cheeks—out of anger or embarrassment, he didn't know—and continued to sweep over the curve of her breasts before they stopped right in front of him.

"Look at you." He leaned closer, his breath brushed her damp skin. "Aren't you a pretty thing?"

There was something compelling about having Spencer sinking on his knees before her, but having his mouth wrapped around her clit pulled away her senses and her legs started to buckle that she had to grab onto the nearest cabinet for support. She stifled a moan, not expecting the enthusiastic way he devoured her from below with frantic motions of his wandering tongue.

This was so wrong. However, heat continued washing over, traveling up towards her face and burning at the tips of her ears. The more his mouth sucked onto her, lapping his tongue through her slickness, the more her body coursed with pleasure that she couldn't stop herself from sinking her fingers into his hair, holding him in place as she ground her hips over his face.

"For someone who claims to hate me," he whispered, his voice vibrating against her skin, his tongue pushing into her walls. "You sure are enjoying this."

A moan was thick in her throat until she swallowed it down, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of how true his words were. "You're annoying. So fucking annoying," she hissed.

Spencer hummed. "And you taste so good."

She gasped in surprise when she felt him lick a long stripe along her slit, the rough pad of his tongue catching her clit as she jolted. His fingers dipped into her thighs as he held her steady, lewd sounds leaving his lips as he continued to suck her wetness. His movements were suddenly fast, so feral and animalistic as he shamelessly lapped her skin, swallowing every liquid dripping off her body.

The built-up pleasure inside her continued to grow as she rolled her hips into his mouth, trying to focus on the sensation of him pressing his tongue against the same spot each time. Her chest was heaving as she tried to focus on the pleasure that was slowly taking over her rational thoughts, the coil inside her desperately close to breaking.

"Oh, god," Her voice shook, head tipped back and eyes staring at the ceiling as she felt herself dance on the precipice of release for a few agonizing moments before she finally started to shatter. Then a strangled cry left her lips as she began to buck her hips as he continued to suck her clit through her climax, the pleasure clouding her mind. It wasn't until he finally stood up, looking down at her with a grin that she finally took in what just happened.

"Do you still hate me?"

Yes, yes she did, especially with that smug smile of his taunting her. Yet she found herself hooking her fingers around the belt strap of his pants, pulling him closer as the weight of her resistance began to crumble under the force of his unwavering gaze. "So fucking much." The triumphant smile on his face grew as she started to unbuckle his belt, the sound echoing in the room. "Do you have a condom?"

"Do you really think I'm the type of person to be carrying a condom in my pocket?"

"I think you're the type of person who never gets laid." He threw her an uninterested stare which she decided to ignore. Then she let her hands fall to the side. "I'm not having sex without a condom."

Spencer weighed in her words. If he was smart, he would've stopped himself, pulled away, and accept her admission. But he didn't want to be smart, after depending on his intelligence throughout his life, he didn't want to be rational. It was definitely out of his character, but there was something about her that stirred a dormant part of him, awakening desires and emotions he hadn't known existed within his soul.

He had always prided himself on his restraint and self-discipline, but after finally having a taste of her, he found himself unraveling. He wanted more. So he leaned closer, and pressed a desperate kiss at the hollow of her throat, marveling at the way her body trembled from his touch. "Why not?"

She was going to regret it. She really was. But damn it, how could she restrain herself when he was sucking into her skin like a man starved. She splayed her hands on his chest and pushed him away before giving him the deadliest glare she could muster.

"I swear to god if you finish inside me I will kill you."

Then a smirk pulled at the corner of his lips. "Was planning to come in your mouth anyway."

She was about to retort a haughty response when he suddenly grabbed her by the elbow and turned her around, pushing her against the wall. She was taken aback by the newfound dominance he exuded in his touch. It was a side of him she had never witnessed before, and it sent a thrill of surprise and intrigue coursing through her veins, something she would never admit out loud.

He dragged his tongue across his lips at the sight before him as his hands reached for his belt, unclasping the strap before unbuttoning his pants, the sound of his zipper being pulled down echoing in the narrowed space. He then slightly pulled down his briefs, slipping out his cock before his knee wedged in between her thighs, parting her legs to open.

He slightly shifted, his jaw twitching as he gathered saliva in his mouth, craning his neck down to spit on her pulsing core before the head of his cock gently nudged her clit. Embarrassingly, she clenched around nothing. Her vision went white and she felt herself tremble as he positioned himself at her entrance, pushing in inch by inch.

"Fuck," he sighed, hips twitching as he finally slid into her fully, feeling her walls clenching hard around him. "I can get used to this."

She could get used to this too. She had never felt so full before, never felt herself being stretched like this so deliciously, but she certainly didn't need to feed his ego by moaning about it. "Well don't, this is the only time I'm letting this happen."

He pulled back his hips, leaving only the tip as he watched her slickness coated around him. "We'll see about that."

And then all hell broke loose.

He slammed into her with so much force that she let out a muffled scream as her eyes shot wide open. He relentlessly bucked his hips, his cock filling her over and over without self-control, the tip of him hitting her deepest parts relentlessly. She could barely even think as his hips fell into a rhythm, sending her higher and higher with each thrust.

Her legs tensed up even more at the pressure, his hands gripping her hips so hard his fingers dig into her flesh that she knew she would leave bruises. Behind her, he was grunting and growling through gritted teeth as he repeatedly buried himself into her without remorse. It didn't take long before his vicious thrusts had her eyes rolling back behind closed lids, her mind going entirely blank to everything but this very moment.

One of his hands released her hip before she felt him grabbing a fistful of her hair, just at the base of her skull, and sharply pulling. A high-pitched, breathy noise tore out of her at the feel of it. "Poor baby," he cooed. "Look at you so desperate for my cock."

She couldn't help but be stunned by his words. Who would've thought Spencer Reid was good at dirty talk? Definitely not her. It was as though he had unveiled a secret facet of his personality that had remained hidden until now, and she found herself captivated by this revelation.

Not that she was going to admit this, of course, so instead, she solely focused on the way he addressed her. "I am not your baby."

"You want me to call you something else?" He asked between bated breaths, hips thrusting into her. "How about Angel? Darling? Sweetheart?"

She let out a frustrated groan at his teasing but it was probably impossible to discern it from the rest of the noises she was trying to hold. "Are you always this chatty during sex?"

"No," he hummed as he picked up his pace, sending a helpless spasm through her.

"R-Really?" She mused breathlessly. "I must be special then."

He then tugged on her hair even rougher, causing her to curse loudly in response, her hips beginning to eagerly press backward into him as his hips jutted into her relentlessly like a man possessed. "Don't get too cocky."

"Just admit it," she whispered, pleasure racing down her body in waves. "You like me."

With another sharp tug on her hair, he abruptly plunged his cock so deep inside of her that she couldn't stop herself from arching her back. He held himself there as he used the grip on her hair to haul her backward to him, a surprised yelp falling out of her. "I don't like you."

Her back fell onto his chest and she felt his body vibrating behind her. "Then why is your heart beating so fast?"

"Well, sex is physically exerting so..."

How was it possible to be this aroused and annoyed at the same time? Wasn't sex supposed to be enjoyable? Well, she was clearly enjoying this, but it was hard to fully sink into the pleasure when he was driving her insane. Unless...

It dawned on her, that was her move. That was how she could play his game. Maybe she should be enjoying this to the fullest, maybe she should stroke his ego, get into his head, and have him feel as desperate as she was. A fierce determination ignited within her, fueling a newfound resolve to turn the tables on him. This was how she was going to get him back.

"Harder," she asked, pushing her hips into him.

His pace suddenly slowed down, uncertain whether he was hearing her right. "Yeah?"

She nodded. "Please?" she added before he could prompt her.

A satisfied sound escaped his lips—it was a sound she had never heard coming from him, loud and crude emitting between a growl and something coming close to a whimper, which had her smiling triumphantly. "L-Look at you begging now."

This was easier than she expected. She rolled her head back against his shoulder and let out a moan she had kept so hard on controlling. "I want you to fuck me harder, Spencer."

His sharp intake of breath at that moment was worth it. "I know what you're doing."

"What am I doing, baby?" she asked sweetly, dripping in forced affection that sounded nothing like her at all.

He instantly released the hold on her hair, his hand snaking around to grip her throat as his other hand slid around the front of her. "You're messing with me."

She let out a strained sound as she felt his other hand traveling down where they were connected. "I-I thought you wanted me to admit how good you make me feel? Is that not enough? You want me to cry out how amazing your cock feels inside me?"

Then she couldn't help her next words.

"Should I call you daddy?"

Oh, that got him. He hissed as the hand on her throat tightened. "You're a menace."

"A menace you enjoy fucking?"

His lips curled into a snarl. "I'm going to wipe that smug look off your face."

Only then he began to thrust back into her roughly. A series of breathy, needy gasps fell out of her as she held tight onto his forearm that was holding her by her throat. His other hand on her clit circled around roughly, touching her just right that she entirely lost it, her hips quaked against him as he groaned out in response, her walls clenching his cock.

Then his hand left her clit a few moments later, instead landing hard on her ass with a sharp smack that sounded throughout the room. His fingers dug into the flesh there as his hips began clumsily ramming into her, his cock twitching inside of her. The stimulation was too much for her that she clamped a hand over her mouth, trying to keep quiet as he stretched her harshly, the delicious burn only adding to the pleasure.

"You're still holding back?" He taunted, bringing back his hand before another loud smack rang in her ears, her ass burning from the pain. "Let that voice out, no one's going to hear you."

It was amazing how long she could hold in her pleasure because now her walls were starting to crumble when a particularly deep and brutal thrust had his cock hitting her just right. And then, it happened—the dam of restraint finally burst. A low moan escaped her lips, a primal cry of pleasure that echoed through the room like a song of surrender

"That's it," he grunted. "You sound so pretty."

As the sensations intensified, her breaths came in shallow gasps, her heart pounding in her chest. Once she let herself go, she couldn't stop herself from moaning out his name, to which he responded with his own moan, especially when she clenched around him even tighter.

"You gonna come for me now?" She helplessly nodded, not trusting herself to form any coherent words, squirming her hips against him for more. "Go on then," he demanded, his lips brushing the shell of her ear. "Come for me."

She finally snapped as she gave in to the sensation that had been gradually crawling its way up her spine. Pleasure was soon coating every inch of her and as her eyes closed. She didn't bother to muffle her cries this time as she fell apart around his cock, her body convulsing as he continued to thrust inside her, forcing the pleasure to keep growing stronger and stronger until small black spots started to appear in her vision.

When her climax had washed over, she was left dizzy and breathless, still leaning against him. His loud panting breaths quickly filled her ears, his chest heaving beneath her head and she could tell by the way his hips were fluctuating in their pace, the feel of his throbbing cock inside of her, that he was very close to his release.

Panic suddenly crept into her daze state and she craned her neck to look back. "Don't you dare finish inside me, I swear to god—"

Very abruptly he slipped his cock out from inside of her, his arms releasing their hold on her just as fast before turning her to face him.

"Get on your knees."

The ground scraped her skin as she quickly sank onto her knees, and just because he looked so damn good tethering in his pleasure as she stared up at him, she gripped his cock in her hands and took him fully in her mouth.

"Fuck," the gravel in his voice was prominent, her lips gliding effortlessly down his shaft until her nose hits his stomach. His hand finds its way into her hair as she kneeled there before him, fisting a bunch of it at the scalp, desperately needing something to tie him down to reality.

She slid back off his cock to take just his head inside her mouth, swirling her tongue around it before flattening it against his tip, licking a fat stripe while looking up at him through her lashes. Spencer sucked in a sharp breath, tightening the grip on her hair.

Maintaining his gaze, she took him completely down her throat again, essentially swallowing him, holding herself there until she gagged around him. She could taste him on her tongue as she continued to repeat the motion, tears welling at her lids and saliva building at her lips, seeping down her chin.

He groaned at the sight.

"I-I'm gonna come—"

And he did. She felt lightheaded as the first shot of liquid filled her mouth, and then he jutted his hips a few more times before another surge of his release spilled down her throat. She swallowed him whole, swallowed every drop of him into her mouth as he continued to look down in wonder. She never thought of ever being in this position, but now she decided there was nothing else more satisfying than to watch her rival come undone from her touch.

Although she couldn't dwell in her contentment for long because as she released him from her mouth, the sound of the door rattling waked her senses. Panic flashed in her eyes as they met his gaze, and they instinctively stepped apart before sprinting into action, Spencer tucking himself back in his pants, while she quickly got to her feet and pulled down her skirt, scurrying to the other side of the room.

It wasn't until she spotted her underwear laying by his feet that she realized she was still naked underneath. Spencer followed her line of sight and just as the door creaked, he bent down and quickly grabbed the fabric, shoving it in his pocket at the same time their friend entered the room.

"There you are," Luke sighed in relief, casting them both a look. "We've been searching everywhere for you guys. Are you both alright? I thought I heard screaming."

In that fleeting moment, they both exchanged a glance laden with unspoken messages, each silently urging the other to maintain composure.

"Yes. I-uh." She cleared her throat, struggling to suppress the heat rising to her cheeks, willing herself not to betray the blush that threatened to expose what went on before this. "I was screaming for help."

Luke watched them with keen eyes, skepticism etched upon his face. A subtle tension crackled in the air, barely noticeable to most but not escaping the scrutiny of his gaze. He watched as Spencer hid his face behind a file he was holding, and she was studying her nails as if they were the most interesting thing in the world.

He narrowed his eyes but didn't say anything, before stepping back towards the door again. "Well, come on, there's a new lead on the case. Everyone's waiting."

When he finally left them alone again, she let out a breath she wasn't aware of holding and quickly held out her hand. Spencer raised his eyebrows at her. "What?"

"My underwear?"

He stared at her empty hand, then at her face, and shrugged nonchalantly, leaving her dumbfounded as he started to leave the room before the door closed on them again.

"Reid," she hissed, following behind him. "Give it back."

He looked over his shoulder and gave her a smile, or something close to it because even after what happened a few minutes ago his smile was far from looking genuine. "Come by my place after work and I might give it to you."

Her steps faltered.

"Might?"

But his back was already facing her as he strode down the hallway. She stood there, feeling extremely exposed wearing nothing but her own skin underneath her skirt, and the only way to get back her missing piece of clothing was to force herself in his presence again.

She closed her eyes and sighed, not sure what she felt right now was either anger or exhaustion. Probably both—no, wait, definitely both.

Because what the fuck did she get herself into?

.

Quick question, if I make a taglist for my one-shots does anyone want to be added?

#spencer reid x you #spencer reid x female reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid #spencerreid #spencer reid x oc #spencer reid x fem!reader smut #spencer reid x fanfiction #spencer reid fic #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fanfiction #Spotify

[reiderwriter]

Unhappy Holidays

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Summary: You're unlucky enough to run into Spencer Reid at holiday celebrations four years in a row. In the New Year, you're resolving to rid him from your mind forever, but you never were one to stick to resolutions 👻🦃🎄🎆

Warnings: SMUT 18+ minors dni, enemies to lovers, low-key work rivals, semi-public sex, car sex, hate sex, fingering, thigh riding, creampie, unprotected sex (no condoms but contraceptive mentioned), slight spoilers for s4 of Criminal Minds (but not really).

Prompt Request: #50"You're so fucking obsessed with me.” #82"Really? Because your pussy is saying something different, sweetheart.” #93"Use my thigh. You've been staring at it all night anyway.”

A/N: This is my first submission for @imagining-in-the-margins November/December Office Party writing challenge! I'm sorry I've been so busy recently, but the holiday season really does take a lot of effort to get through at work lmao. Hopefully, I'll be able to post more over my vacation! For now, enjoy some very unserious smut~♡ (as if I write any other kind).

Here's a link to my masterlist, where you can find all my work!~☆

Working with the FBI was no walk in the park, which, from your desk at the opposite corner of the bullpen, Spencer Reid sure made it look like.

Working on adjacent teams for the last three years had become gradually infuriating. You were forever in the man's orbit, stuck dealing with the other women on your team sat giggling about him and his many stupid haircuts, and wondering just how far you'd fallen to have to stare at his stupid face 5 days a week.

If you were unlucky. His team did happen to be out on cases a lot more, whereas yours handled correspondence and consulting cases, a cushy and safe job.

It annoyed you to no end that you had multiple field-based qualifications, extensive fire arms training and were top of your class at the academy only to be relegated yo desk duty whilst boy wonder with his doctorates was allowed to trip over his own feet catching actual killers.

Other people wondered where your dislike of the man sprang from, and you could only let out a disgruntled squeak and tell them your horror stories.

A few months into your job, your been fresh faced and bushy tailed or however that saying goes, and overly eager to take any assignment that came your way. Even if the assignment was baby-sitting an injured Doctor Spencer Reid. He'd been shot whilst out on a case whilst trying to talk down an unsub, and you'd jumped at the chance to get to know him.

He was an office legend, of course, though those days it was more for his characteristic lack of social graces rather than the beauty he'd grown into. You'd been so eager to get to pick his brains, find out how he'd managed to score the position on the BAU at such an early age.

Reality had hit you square in the face when he'd spent a week ignoring you, making you run around like a headless chicken searching for hard copies of documents the FBI had digitised a millennia ago, and hadn't so much as spared you a glance.

The straw that broke the camel's back came as you were running back to him triumphant with a document he'd requested eight hours before and had let yourself into Penelope Garcia’s office quietly, only to hear him bad mouthing you.

“She makes me uncomfortable. I've had her out searching for useless files all day because I don't know what to do with her.”

“She's trying to help, Spencer, it's her job right now, cut her some slack.”

“Her job is currently getting in the way of mine. I even tried writing my own doctor's note so I could get rid of her, but Hotch wouldn't allow it.”

You'd dropped the file loudly on the table, watched the two spin around with horrified looks and turned silently and left the room.

He hadn't once tried to find you after that, and you let your apprenticeship under Doctor Reid quietly fizzle out as you got back to your regular work.

Your resentment still burned though.

Each time you'd been caught in the same elevator with him, you'd ignored him to an almost insane degree, enjoying the way he squirmed and tried to make small talk.

You'd been in contact with JJ and his Unit Chief Aaron Hotchner as well, through cases you'd recommended, but always maintained your cold shoulder.

The one place you could not ignore him, however, was a Penelope Garcia party.

After you'd slammed the file down on her desk, Penelope had guiltily sent you a gift basket filled with sweet treats and books, and had hounded you for a week to make sure your feelings weren't too damaged by her friend's stupidity.

You actually liked her, and found at least one silver lining to the storm that was Spencer Reid ripping through your life.

In the three years since the “incident,” you'd found yourself at three parties where Penelope in all of her heartwarming ways had tried her best to force a reconciliation between the two of you, to disastrous results.

The first was a Halloween party, and you'd been incredibly proud of your Princess Laia costume when you'd arrived. Only until you'd gone to the kitchen to top up your drink to hear Spencer Reid boring some guest or the other about how Star Trek was more advanced, and had a richer plot line.

Penelope had stepped into the kitchen just as he'd caught a glimpse of your (rather skimpy) outfit - yes, you'd chosen swimsuit Laia, yes, you were going to own it - and had immediately jumped into introductions, as if you weren't already intimately acquainted.

“Spencer! This is Y/N! She loves Halloween, too, she makes all of her costumes. You guys should talk.” She'd led the other guest away and left you there with Spencer as you'd awkwardly looked upon his own costume.

“Are you the Tenth Doctor?” You asked begrudgingly, noting his pin-striped suit and the shorter hairstyle he'd chosen.

“Are you a fan? I prefer the original show run more than the current stuff, but David Tennant has really been doing a wonderful-”

“I'm sorry, let me stop you there. I don't watch Doctor Who. I guess I prefer something with a… How should I say, richer plot?”

He'd snapped his mouth shut and didn't have chance to open it again before you turned dramatically and walked away from him.

The second party you'd been cornered into was just over a year later.

Having been stuck in the office over Halloween, Penelope was determined to get in one last celebration before Christmas steam-rolled every other holiday, and thus you'd been invited to her single-people-only-friendsgiving-potluck, and you'd found yourself having to navigate knocking on her door with a casserole dish in your hands.

Luckily a large hand had appeared from behind you and knocked on the door for you. Unfortunately, the sudden shock from the silent appearance of a man right behind you startled you so much that the dish fell straight from your hands anyway.

Penelope opened her door upon hearing the crash and you whirled on your would-be attacker.

It was Spencer again, eyes round in shock, hand still curled into a fist.

You took a calming breath as you gathered yourself, trying not to bite his head off. You wanted to scream and shout and rip his head out but you didn't, instead letting the fury drip into your voice as you finally opened your eyes again.

“That dish took me four fucking hours to make.” You huffed in anger once more as Penelope guided you into the apartment and poured you a glass of wine before you moved back to the entry hall to clean it up again.

Needless to say he didn't care to converse with you after that.

A few small parties in between had been blissfully Spencer-less and you'd lulled yourself into a false sense of security. That's when you accepted the Christmas party invitation.

As one of the unlucky few members of the FBI who had to stay out over christmas in case of some emergency or the other, you'd been grounded in Virginia, unable to travel home for the holidays. So Penelope Garcia's singles-only-Christmas-fun-time-Party was your last ditch effort to spend the holidays actually resting and eating good food.

Learning from last time, Penelope reassured you that there was no potluck, that she had prepared all the food herself, and all you'd need were a bottle of wine and a willingness to party.

You'd taken those recommendations as law and had immediately let yourself into a glass of mulled wine as you arrived, and - noticing that the party was Reid-free - had allowed it to raise your Christmas spirits slightly more than you usually would.

By hour two of the event, you were full of yuletide joy and swaying freely along to the tune of Silent Night.

Spencer’s late entrance really would have gone unnoticed by you had you not bumped face first into his chest as you spun yourself around in your dance, his hands quickly falling to your hips to steady you.

The few moments it took you to gather yourself were about as long as you needed to realised that he'd caught you in his arms underneath the mistletoe. And with your mind fogged by mulled-whatever-it-was-Penelope-mixed-into-that-punch, the part of your brain that objected to the very existence of Spencer Reid went silent, and the incredibly tiny and somewhat damaged part of your brain that instead saw him as attractive started shouting loud instructions.

Before your common sense could return, you pushed yourself up on your tiptoes to kiss the very warm, very close man holding you upright.

“Mistletoe,” you muttered as you clawed his arms off of you and took yourself straight to Penelope's bathroom to throw up.

So yes, your acquaintance with Spencer Reid had never been good, and you were perfectly fine with resenting him from afar, privately.

With three years of bad experiences under your belt, you weren't excited at completing your yearly tradition of horrendous interaction. Which is perhaps why you immediately and loudly protested Penelope’s New Years Eve party invitation.

“Y/N, it's a party. What's the worst that can happen?” She pleaded as she followed you down the corridors of the office building.

“I could see Spencer Reid. I could be forced to converse with Spencer Reid. I could get absolutely wasted and kiss Spencer Reid. There, three options, please accept my resignation from partying.”

“Y/N we both know you don't drink anymore, so at least one of those is unlikely to happen. And Spencer might not even come, he has tickets for an indie theatre from 6pm onwards, they're playing some Russian movie from the 60s that's like 4 hours long or something. So u retire yourself and tell me you'll come?” She had to take three or four steps for each of your own, not that you were so different in height but because you were practically marching in order to avoid the topic.

But you finally stopped and let out a sigh as you turned back to Penelope who stopped just before she ran into you.

“You're sure he won't be there?”

“I'm sure he RSVP’d no.”

“Fine. But I'm not drinking and I will still be expecting the Penelope Garcia virgin punch experience.”

“Bring the party poppers and you have a deal.”

“Done.”

–X–

Over the week since you'd accepted the invitation, you'd made peace with it. For the most part, you did love a Penelope Garcia production. There was something wonderful about your friend and her ability to brighten anyone's mood, an ability that was only heightened at holidays. She was like a glittered goddess gaining power when worshippers used her altar, except the altar was her house and the worship was a range of hallmark-induced holidays.

You arrived at the party at 10pm, and though that was the start time you'd been given, you weren't surprised to see a full house of Penelope’s team mates already in attendance. Derek Morgan, Jennifer Jareau and Emily Prentiss sat spread across the sofa in the living room area, and you noticed a few techie friends also grabbing drinks and chatting.

“Y/N, I'm so glad you're here! You remember everyone on the team, right?” She pulled you into a hug and then sat you down in the middle of the group, waiting for you to mingle and become comfortable before she ran off to more hostess duties.

“Of course, nice to see you guys.” You grabbed your promised punch and sat back comfortably, striking up a conversation with Emily about how bleak the dating scene had been recently.

“It seems like all the men around me are jackasses,” Emily muttered and you giggled along.

“I'm wounded,” Morgan shot back, a hand pressed to his chest in faux pain.

“Good. You're like a lion out there in the clubs stalking gazelles, it's like watching a nature documentary when you're out there.”

You almost snorted your entire drink up your nose as Emily finished, needing to compose yourself for a second.

“I guess the men on our team aren't great with romance,” JJ laughed and took a swing. “Hotch and Rossi have four divorces between them, and Derek here is a lost cause.”

“Our only hope is young Spencer. May he grow into a respectful young gentleman and break out curse,” Emily toasted.

“Oh that ship has sailed,” your laugh this time was bitter, your mood immediately growing sour with even the smallest mention of Spencer Reid.

“Ah, Penelope mentioned you had a problem with our boy wonder. Care to share?”

You opened your mouth to give your standard non-answer and move the conversation along, but you were interrupted.

“Yes, Y/N, care to share? I am slightly curious about that as well.” You turned around and there he was, and your stomach turned in disgust.

Just one time, just one party. You'd been having fun, and here he was to ruin it.

“What are you doing here?” you gaped up at him, unsurprised to see him still decked out in sweater vest and slacks even in his down time.

“I was invited.”

“You declined, Penelope said you had movie tickets.”

“Ticket, singular. And it was cancelled so here I am. What's your problem with me, Y/N?” His jaw clenched and he grabbed the back of your chair and leaned down. It was supposed to be intimidating, but you rolled your eyes. When he looked that attractive, veins in his arms popping out of the sleeves he'd pulled up, you couldn't see him as intimidating. His arms were distracting yes, but God that was nothing compared to his thighs. His pants were tight, and you thanked whatever Clueless tailor had sewn them, because you now allowed yourself a momentary lapse to enjoy the appearance of his lower body.

You tried to shake the thought of his attractiveness from your mind, reminding yourself where you were and in what company.

“I don't think I need to answer that. I think I'll enjoy holding it over your head instead,” you said, standing up and beginning to gather your things.

“Wait, Y/N, where are you going? New Year isn't for another 30 minutes.” Penelope scrambled over and grabbed your hand, pleading with you to stay.

“I'm sorry Pen, but there's just this very annoying bug buzzing around me, and I think I need to get away from it.” You said your goodbyes and excused yourself from the party, happy to have walked away relatively undamaged.

Fate had other plans, and as you stepped out of the apartment building ready to walk yourself home, a hand caught yours from behind as a voice chased you.

“Y/N, wait. I'll go. You go back inside.”

“And return with my tail tucked between my legs after making a grand exit? I'll pass, thanks boy genius.” You shook yourself from his grasp and made to walk away again, but he quickly matched your pace and stepped into your path, cutting you off.

“I can't let you walk home. It's like 40° out here, and your coat is more style than substance.”

“Get into a car with a stranger? I'm sure you of all people know how stupid that sounds.” You stuck a finger out and poked his chest, but he grabbed your hand and held it in place as he spat out his next words.

“I'm not a stranger, I'm the man you're obsessed with, Y/N. Big difference.” You laughed, mostly in shock at his indignance, but he stared at your face as serious as could be.

“Me? Obsessed with you? I'm not the one who followed a woman they're barely acquainted with out of a party filled with all of my friends. Sounds like you're projecting, Spencer.”

“Am I?” He questioned, stepping closer and grabbing your hip as he continued his questioning. “I wasn't the one who was sat there talking about me with all of my colleagues.”

“Well, I wasn't the one who turned up to a party I'd declined an invitation to.”

He was imperceptibly close now, hand gripping your hip so tight you wondered if it'd leave you with a mark.

“I certainly was not the one who initiated a kiss last year, Y/N. You need to face the facts, you're so fucking obsessed with me.” If his hands had you feeling dizzy, his words were completely knocking the sense out of you. Suddenly you returned to the person you'd been under that Mistletoe, and everything from his closeness to the rough edge to his voice begged you to do it once again.

“Go fuck yourself,” was about all the words you could manage as he finally let his lips fall down and crush into your own.

You should've pushed him away, but instead your traitorous body wanted to prove his point, opening up for him faster than you'd opened up to anyone else before.

His tongue flicked against your lips and you gladly let him explore your mouth, opening up to tangle your tongue with his.

He tasted sweet, like the punch Penelope had handed you earlier, only now you wondered if someone had accidentally laced it with how free you were being with your affections.

He resurfaced for air, but you didn't care if there was nothing in your lungs at all if it meant that his lips would engage your own in battle once again.

“Look how much you want me,” he smirked. “Look how needy you are after a single kiss, chasing my lips like that.”

“You and your big fucking mouth. I wish you'd shut up once in a while.”

“I'll make it my new year’s resolution.” His lips joined your own again, and you clashed hard, exploring as much as you could muster as he pulled you in the direction of his car.

“I'm not driving… home… with you,” you growled between kisses, trying not to put your teeth to his neck and bite down hard. You're not sure if that impulse was a murderous one or a kinky one.

“I'm not putting you in the front seat, Y/N, I'm putting you in the back. You should be familiar with the idea.”

Heat sparked between your legs, and you allowed yourself to be manhandled into the beat-up trash heap of a car.

He'd not taken his hands off you as he got you in, pushing himself in first and then pulling you by the hand that you'd unconsciously gripped hard. You immediately straddled his hips, skirt naturally riding up in the process. He noticed and looked curiously down at you, growling as you pressed your lips against his neck and grabbed you instead by the hair gathered in a ponytail at the back of your head.

“See, you're obsessed with me. Just admit it.” Without breaking eye contact, he dug his fingers into the material of your tights and pulled in opposite directions, leaving your underwear exposed to his wandering eyes.

“I'm not obsessed with you,” your voice needed conviction to land, but it came out as a lusty whisper, especially as he slipped his fingers inside your underwear and finally touched your aching cunt.

“Really? Because your pussy is saying something else, Princess.” He found your clit faster than you'd ever expected, rubbing slow circles into your skin as you began rocking your hips back and forth.

It was becoming hard to disagree with him, with each flick of wrist growing the heat between your legs. You attacked his neck again, hands practically ripping at his top buttons so you could muffle the sounds of your arousal against his neck, collarbone, chest, any stretch of that pale skin available to you.

He forced your hips to a stop with one hand as he slipped a single digit inside of your hole, gathering your arousal as he set a steady pace, thumb keeping your bundle of nerves occupied.

“Listen, Y/N, can you hear that?”

“I can't h-hear anything.” You had to grind your teeth together to get the words out with minimal interruptions of moans bursting from the pit of your stomach.

He leaned in close to your ear, nuzzling your neck and placing chaste kisses up towards your ear, finally pulling away just enough to whisper a single word in your ear.

“Liar.”

His hand stilled and pulled off you quickly and your eyes broke open, hands unconsciously fitting into his shirt as if you were worried he was going to leave you there like this, on the edge of pleasure but still so far away.

“Use my thigh. You've been staring at it all night anyway.”

“Jackass. You've only been here for like 20 minutes.”

“You can climb right out of this car if you want to, Y/N.” He tried to keep his tone light, but the death grip he had on your thighs, the very obvious tent pitched in his pants and the way his eyes couldn't go five seconds without undressing you told you you had more power in this interaction than he wanted to give you.

There was no way either of you were letting the other go unused tonight.

You relaxed your grip on his shirt and shifted your weight to one of his thighs. Lithe he may be, but lowering yourself down there was an unexpected strength there. He watched on curiously as you rocked experimentally against him. Back and forth you rocked, trying desperately to keep up his momentum or tempt him to help you out again.

It was time to let your voice back out, and you did, moaning without a care as you hummed his leg like a bitch in heat.

“You're enjoying this lot, huh, Y/N,” he muttered, and you watched as his hand worked his pants zip open, removing one of the barriers in the way between the two of you, as he began palming himself.

“What's that saying? Anything you can do, I can do better?” He growled at that response but didn't stop you. Instead he bought a hand down on your ass as you moved, so hard you jolted at the sudden pain. Your eyes shot open as your hips stilled, but you felt warmth grow between your legs.

“Yes, you definitely enjoyed that. Should I do that again, or do you think we should hurry this up and go back up for the countdown?”

You hesitated only a second before you pushed his hand off his lap, shifting your hips further towards his knees before letting your hand reach for where his had just been.

You didn't let yourself think about how big he was as you pulled his cock free, didn't let yourself wonder how he measured up against anyone you'd been with before. You didn't let yourself waste time thinking about how various office rumours were true, and definitely not a second was wasted feeling jealous about how those rumours were spread in the first place.

Instead you simply slammed your lips back against his, mouth opening to let your tongue engage his as you lifted your hips with his help and lowered yourself down on him.

You didn't have to rid yourself of sinful thoughts after that as he purged every single brain cell from your head, filling you so contently that there was simply no space for anything but him.

You locked up on top of him, clawing at his shoulders as you whimpered at the stretched, falling so he was balls deep inside you. You wanted to move, to use him for your pleasure, but your walls tightened every time you even thought about it as he stroked your hair through it all.

It had been some time since you'd last had a sexual partner, and you needed the few minutes to overcome the first uncomfortable bliss of it all.

“That good?” he whispered, but the harsh tone of earlier was gone, replaced only by unsure humour to break the silence.

“Been a while.” He nodded, kissing you again to distraction as he shifted your positions.

Cradling your neck and securing your legs comfortably around him, he lowered you against the backseat, pulling out slightly as you adjusted to the new angle.

“Better?” You nodded quickly, because it was. There was no more pressure on your legs, and despite the cramped space in the car, you had enough space to lie almost flat.

“Yes… thank you.” Just as his cutting tone had escaped him, you also heard your own tone softening, the sigh of contentment slipping past your lips almost sweet. Almost.

“Are you going to fuck me now, or what?”

He let out a shocked laugh, but lent down to shut you up with a kiss nonetheless. Bracing himself against the car door, his hips softly rocked into you, pace increasing until you were back to the edge of cumming, nails pressed hard into his skin until you were sure he was going to complain.

He didn't though, but kept up his thrusts, until your vision suddenly darkened and stars exploded in them, rolled back in your head as they were.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit, where should I…?” He panicked, but you wrapped your legs around him, grabbing him by the tie and pulling him down to swallow his moan as he shot his load inside of you.

“Birth control.” You whispered when you finally let him go, gasping for air. “Contraceptive pill. No need to get the car dirty.”

He collapsed on top of you then, forehead resting against your own as you both caught your breaths.

The moment was silent, and you found the synchronicity of your breaths almost calming. Eventually you had to break apart, and he helped you up to a sitting position, but didn't break eye contact as fell back into his lap.

His hands stroked your back, dipping to your ass at times, but he didn't talk. Neither of you did.

The eye contact between the two of you was possibly the most pleasant conversation you'd ever had.

“I'm sorry.” He blurted, just as fireworks erupted into the night sky. Your heart shook, and you weren't sure of it was the shock of the sound, or the way the rainbow of lights illuminated his sincere expression.

“You don't have to apologise for cumming in me, Spencer.”

“Not that. Before. The casserole and the mistletoe, and the Halloween costume.”

“Wow. Um, okay. Apology accepted, I guess, though I'm not entirely sure why you're apologising now.”

He took a deep breath just as another set of fireworks went up.

“I pulled you under the mistletoe. It was Penelope’s idea, she knew how stupid I was being around you and sent me over. I saw it and took the chance.”

“Fuck. Why?”

“Because I was pretty useless at being chivalrous the year before.”

You climbed off his lap in a scramble and sat on the seat beside him, mind racing, trying to figure out where the hell he was going with this.

He turned to you, trying to keep your attention as he stumbled over the words.

“You couldn't knock on the door, so I wanted to help you, but I didn't think I'd scare you so much you'd drop it.”

“You didn't scare me it was a momentary lapse in my observational skills.”

“You shrieked,” a smile threatened to pull his lips up, they twitched as you flushed red.

“And Halloween?” You looked at him again now, trying to figure out what the hell was going on between the two of you.

“You refused to look at me for a year after we stopped working together,” he shrugged quickly running a hand through his hair and expelling a breath. “I don’t really know how to talk to women.”

“You just know how to piss them off?”

“Morgan says it comes naturally.”

“Yeah, well, Morgan is very wise.”

A brief silence stretched between you, or as silent as a night full of cracks, pops, whizzes and bangs could be.

“I don't get it. You tried your best to get rid of me when I was there to help you. I wanted to impress you, and you kept sending me on meaningless errands, and now you're saying what? You wanted my attention?” There was a quiet anger to your voice, but you were surprised to find it diminished and tired.

“I wanted you gone because you were distracting me, Y/N, not because I hated you.”

“Well, what's the difference, Doctor Reid? Please indulge me.” You huffed a little but kept your eyes on him, trying not to seem too desperate for his answer.

“I have an IQ of 187. Emily says when I'm around a pretty girl it's more like 52,” he fidgeted with his pants, forcing the words out.

“You're a pretty girl. We had a case to work and all I could think about was how to get you to like me. Hotch chewed me out like three separate times for being absent minded.”

He was looking anywhere but you, trying his best not to appear like a fool but you were locked onto him.

“Oh my god you're an idiot.”

“When you're around, yes.”

“And that means I'm equally stupid.”

“No, you just jump to conclusions and hold grudges. There wasn't anything really that stupid about your actions, though it could be suggested that not thoroughly thinking through the wording of the conversation you overheard-”

You cut him off with a kiss, pulling him down again mlby his tie.

“Oh my god, shut up,” you whispered as you broke apart.

“Does that mean we can do this again? Because I'd like to do this again?”

“Stop talking, start kissing jackass.”

He finally didn't argue with that, pulling you back into him as you sat under the stars in his car welcoming the new year.

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[owliellder]

The Finer Details

Post DI! Leon Kennedy x Painter f! Reader

MDNI 18+

(Session 1, Session 2, Session 3, Session 4, Session 5, The Reveal)

Description: Leon realizes that retirement is in his best interest now that he's getting older. All of his accomplishments as an agent mean he's truly earned a painting to commemorate..

Warnings: Not Proofread, Age gap! (reader is anywhere between mid-late 20's and Leon is 40), Porn w/ Plot, Use of she/her pronouns, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Alcoholism, mentions of trauma/PTSD/depression, P in V smut (wrap it NEOW), Leon cries during sex 💔

Tags: Older Leon Kennedy, Younger afab!Reader, Leon is SAD but he is your muse, Crying, mentions of Leon masturbating, starts off with Dom! Leon and Sub! Reader, falls into switch territory because that man needs some serious TLC, Praise kink, Hickeys, Handjob, Nipple play, Oral sex (m! and f! receiving), and a heavy dose of Aftercare

Author Note: You know how each president of the U.S. gets a painting at the end of their term? I'm thinking like that. Plus, my favorite hobby is recreating renaissance art, so I figured this was a good fit (hopefully).

Cross posted onto AO3

Session 1: The Sketches

It was late at night when Leon made his decision to retire fully.

He had gotten home over an hour ago from reviewing mountains of paperwork, most of which pertained to missions that other agents have gone on or will be going on.

Younger agents. More energized agents.

The fact that he hadn't gone on a full mission since San Francisco was driving him up the wall. But that's what he wanted. He requested to hang back the last two years.

Both Chris and Claire had fully retired themselves right after San Fran, Claire being the first to retire to focus on her growing family with Chris following suit only a few months later. Jill was still around, but she was doing similar work that Leon was, only she was in a completely different department which was states away.

Of course Leon still talked with them all as regularly as possible, he'd go insane if he didn't, especially with Claire having a couple kids now. He wasn't the greatest with children, but it was refreshing seeing his friends achieve such normalcy. He wanted them to have the best life they could away from everything.

Having turned 40 a few some months ago, Leon was having a bit of a mid-life crisis. The mission to San Francisco a couple years ago had made him realize just how much toll the job itself had taken on his body. After being assessed and allowed home a few nights after returning from the mission, his body ached; joints creaking, back nearly thrown, just... tired.

Don't get him wrong, he was always tired after missions, but this was different. This wasn't just the regular aches and pains he dealt with after being tossed around like a rag doll, this was age.

Deep in his mind, Leon was still that 21 year old boy in Raccoon City. He never got the chance to properly grieve and move on, his mind forever changed by that event. Mentally, he was stuck there and had been this entire time.

It had taken the man this long to truly recognize the fact that he's older now. He's not that boy from Raccoon City anymore. He hadn't been in a long time.

What was he do to now? Leon had wanted so badly to serve and protect the people, but not like this. Not like he has for the past 29 years.

He spent his most formative years fighting unimaginable horrors, watching people suffer, watching people die. You don't just come back from something like that.

And unlike the friends he's managed to keep close, Leon didn't have someone he trusted. Hell, he barely trusted himself most days.

So now here he was, sitting drunk in his shower with his legs pulled up to his chest, his arms resting atop his knees while the water pelted down on him, silently mulling over everything he's ever seen and done during his time as an agent.

The water had grown cold at this point, Leon having quickly lost track of how long he was sitting spaced out like that for. Thankfully, he'd already cleaned himself before he ended up sitting down, so the hardest part now was just standing back up to get himself back out.

It took him a couple more minutes before he finally hoisted himself up with a tired groan, both his knees popping from being stuck in position for such a lengthy amount of time.

Once out of the shower, towel loosely wrapped around his waist, Leon stared at himself in the mirror; busy studying the crow's feet on both outer corners of his eyes as well as the prominent bags sitting under them, the smile line around his mouth, his now brown hair, the stubble on his face and neck that's he's neglected to shave, and just how exhausted he looked.

How has he never noticed any of this before? Why's he look so different now?

Settling into bed after this brutal realization was a tough task. The man followed his nightly routine of taking four Tylenol and two of his prescription sleep meds before setting his a/c 65 degrees Fahrenheit. He learned quickly many years ago that tossing and turning at night would make him overheat and sweat.

But tonight, nothing Leon did could ease that sinking feeling in his chest, that feeling of unfulfillmemt and shame weighing on him more than ever before.

The poor man barely slept at all last night, hangover evident by the way he was still slightly uneven on his feet as he leaned over the center island in his kitchen, head between his forearms while his hands sat clasped together.

Leon knew what he had to do. He's been feeling it ever since Chris and Claire made their departure, but it was so easy to deny. How was he suppose to give up the one thing that made him important? Sure the stress of his work was heavily tasking on the mind and body, but it's what gave him purpose. He felt useful doing what he did.

The man showed up for work late that day, barely having managed to dress himself. He didn't know exactly who to go to in this scenario, but everyone seemed surprised that the Leon Kennedy would show up for work in some ratty t-shirt and grey sweatpants. The stares were making him incredibly uncomfortable and he was quickly regretting showing up at all.

After sitting in his own office for awhile to avoid the looks and whispers, Leon eventually sauntered over to his superior's office, an almost solemn look on his face as he let himself in after knocking.

Needless to say, Leon was relieved his superior knew this was coming. Slightly offended, but relieved nonetheless.

It had been a long time coming, and it was only a matter of time before Leon threw in the towel, especially since he was now just working behind the scenes instead of on the frontline.

He was allowed to return home for the rest of the day if he wanted to, which Leon quickly took. He really didn't want to be in that building for much longer.

As soon as he returned home he went right back to drinking. And as ashamed as he is to admit, he even cried a little, half empty whiskey bottle in one hand while the other was clenched tightly into a fist as he gripped the pant leg of his sweats.

There wasn't anyone Leon could talk to about this. Chris and Claire had their own respective partners to come home to after retirement, but Leon? Leon had nothing besides a dingy and cold two bedroom house with only the basics inside, including his alcohol cabinet.

The man didn't even give himself time to date, only the occasional one night stand with randoms from the bar. He was too afraid that he would endanger anyone he allowed into his life like that, not to mention he'd been betrayed one too many times to trust in someone that way again. It was his way of keeping himself and everyone else safe.

The therapists he was assigned throughout the years all had the same concern regarding his love life, and deep down Leon was just as concerned, but he rationalized it with that hero complex he developed.

But he just couldn't rationalize it anymore. Leon was alone. He was alone, sad, and afraid.

About a month after Leon's retirement was processed and announced, word spread quickly throughout numerous government branches. There was a celebration set up at the White House to honor his service as a field agent.

The President had separated him and Leon from the party to slowly walk through the many hallways in the building. The old man could tell just how bothered the now ex-agent was by his retirement, so he figured now would be the best time to talk to him about his final task.

"You know," The President spoke up after a couple minutes of the two walking in silence, prompting Leon to slowly turn his head to listen. "I'm sure you've heard it so many times tonight, but you truly were one of the best agents I've ever seen."

Leon chuckled quietly, shaking his head a bit at the compliment. He had heard it a lot tonight, but obviously it was different coming from him.

"I'm serious. This county, probably the entire world, would've been in shambles if not for your hours spent." The President continued, slowing his walking to a stop.

"It means more than you know." Leon responded simply, voice a bit gravelly from the few drinks he's had. He took a couple steps more before stopping as well, turning around to face the prominent old man.

The President sighed, giving him a sympathetic smile while nodding. They stood in silence for a brief moment before the old man spoke up again, pointing lazily down the hall. "Follow me, I've got something I want to show you."

From there, the two wandered further down the halls until eventually reaching one hall that had lights more centered towards the walls, highlighting the picture frames that sat evenly spaced out amongst them.

Leon seemed a tad confused until he was able to focus on the first painting they walked by. He knew each president got a portrait painted after their full term was served, but the man in this painting wasn't a past president.

He stopped walking to stand in front of the painting, admiring the details it had before glancing down at the bottom of the elegant frame, a placard reading a name he didn't recognize. What he did recognize, though, was the word Agent that sat in front of the man's name.

While zoned into the placard, Leon didn't register the gentle hand that had been clasped on his shoulder, the President's voice breaking through his trance. "For as long as there's been bioweapons, we've had agents fighting to stop them. But only a few agents have truly outdone themselves. Agents like you."

Leon blinked a couple times before turning his head to look at the hand on his shoulder, eyebrows furrowed. He wasn't quite understanding what he was saying.

The President took his silence as a cue to continue, his sympathetic smile turning into a happier one as he gently tugged Leon's shoulder to get him to start walking again. "The D.S.O. has produced some of the greatest agents since Benford created it back in 2011. You were amazing before, but you've outdone yourself time and time again."

Leon still wasn't quite understanding, really only half listening as he kept his eyes trained to the numerous portraits of agents as he slowly passed them.

The two stopped in front of the last painting in the hallway, only a few spots away from leading into another hallway. It was Chris and Claire in this painting. Chris was sitting down in a chair while Claire stood next to him, hand resting on back of it, both of them smiling.

He studied the painting for a minute longer before whipping his head around to face the President, who was still smiling, as the realization slowly settling in.

"I-" Leon struggling to speak, glancing back at the painting before quickly looking back at the old man standing next to him.

The President simply nodded his head, smile widening with a gentle laugh. "Right. The painting process takes a bit of time, but I think you've more than earned this."

The ex-agent had so many questions. Firstly, why hadn't Chris or Claire mentioned this? But more importantly, he gets to have his own portrait painted?

"The painter knows all about you. She's excited to meet you." The President started down the hall again, Leon not far behind, still stuttering out nonsense as he attempted to form even a sentence. "I'll give you the information you need to get started with her. I have it written down back in my office."

A painting?

A painting. A painting for him. A painting to honor him. What?

Leon was once again sat on his couch, blankly staring at the small business card with a date and time written on it in pen. He'd read the info on the card so many times already, wanting to make sure he got absolutely nothing wrong.

Apparently he didn't have to call and confirm, all he had to do was show up to this random address at a specific date and time, which was soon. In a couple days kind of soon. Also, he thought he was reading the time wrong, but no, it was four in the morning, not four in the afternoon. What an odd and rather inconvenient time.

Even after memorizing the business card front to back, Leon would be lying if he said he didn't forget about meeting up with this mystery painter. He'd been rather aloof the past couple months, it was hard to pull himself out of that funk. He'd been staying up late and sleeping in even later, so hitting snooze on his alarm a good few times was just muscle memory at this point.

It was almost 5am when he realized where he was suppose to be, eyes shooting open as he yanked himself out of bed, desperately trying to clean himself up enough to be at least presentable.

The man was mentally chastising himself the entire drive. It was a short drive, which he was surprised by, and the building seemed quaint; red brick with large windows that sat on what looked like either a second or third floor.

He parked his bike right near what he assumed was the main door, pulling off his motorcycle helmet before knocking and waiting.

The last thing Leon was expecting was you to unlock and open that door; young and pretty, so pretty...

"Mr. Kennedy?" You asked, eyebrows raised slightly with a small smile. He nodded, just barely noticeable, reaching a gloved hand up to wipe at his eyes as he caught himself staring.

Your smile only widened at his nod, stepping aside to allow him into walk in. It took him a minute to realize you were still talking, shaking his head out to refocus himself.

"-again, really, no need to worry about being late. I was trying to work with your schedule but I should've known it's changed up a bit by now, right?" You lead him up a set of narrow stairs, though he was mostly following the smell of your perfume. It was such a light smell but he definitely picked up on it.

You opened a door immediately to the left of the stairs, letting Leon follow you inside. The sun was just starting to rise, shining through the large windows in the open room.

The place was cluttered, yet organized. Crowded, but that just made it all the cozier to Leon. His house was bare and lacked any sort of personality, but this... this place was covered in you.

"I'm glad you like it in here." You said in a quiet voice, looking up at him as he took in your workspace. He was smiling ever so slightly, which you mimicked with a smile of your own. "I try to make it welcoming in here, my apartment is the same way.."

Your voice trailed off as you walked over to a mostly put together set up near the back of the room where the only wall without windows sat. There was a chair sitting close to the wall, the same chair Chris was sitting in for his portrait with Claire, along with your easel sitting empty a few feet away.

Leon stood frozen, only moving his head around as he took everything in. He followed you with his eyes as you fumbled around with something, eventually producing a blank 24" x 36" canvas that was still wrapped in thin plastic.

His mouth made an 'o' shape as he pulled himself from his small trance once again, beginning to slowly make his way over to the set up you've made. He placed his helmet down on the floor beside the chair.

After placing the canvas on the easel, you walked back over to where you'd gotten the canvas from before grabbing a heavily used sketchbook. It was a large one, the paper a light brown instead of white.

Leon had only just realized that there was a faint sound of some form of classical music playing from somewhere in the room, glancing around for speakers before looking back over at you.

"I'm not getting started today, we're a couple steps away from that, so don't worry about appearance just yet." You said softly with a breathy laugh, quickly making your way back over to where he stood next to the plush chair in your setup, his hand feeling over the worn maroon fabric.

Leon nodded silently, moving to sit down once you requested he did, furrowing his eyebrows as he watched you drag over a small table. You worked fast, that's for sure.

Eventually, you'd set up a little tabletop easel to sit on the table you'd dragged in front of him, grabbing your swivel chair to sit in as you placed your sketchbook on the easel, open to a blank page.

"I just need to get some basic ideas of your facial structure since that's most important when it comes to these kinds of paintings. You're gonna be wearing a nice tuxedo when I do the second- no, third sketch for the final painting, but this is just for me to get a feel for you and vise versa." You rambled quickly, pulling out a pencil from one of your pockets before fully sitting down on the chair, bringing your legs up to sit criss cross.

"Uh.. Alright..." Leon responded, clearing his throat a bit. He didn't really understand what you'd said, you spoke a little too fast for his tired brain to keep up, but it seemed like whatever you were doing was necessary so he just rolled with it.

He was left a little speechless again at how you just began sketching, glancing up to his face and down to the page you were working on over and over. "...do you need me to, I don't know, pose or something?"

The way you kept looking at him was making feel a little uneasy. Granted he's never been in this sort of situation before, this whole process was very unfamiliar to him.

"No, no. You can move your head around and stuff. Get comfortable." You waved off, eyes wrinkling as you smiled at him. Leon nodded again, deciding to take the opportunity to look around your workspace again.

It really was a cozy space. Full of color and life, even the curtains you had lining the windows offered so much pattern and detail to the room. The back of the room where the two of you sat was more cluttered with less decor, but the front of the room was a whole different story with those massive floor pillows, blankets of all sorts strewn about, that big fluffy looking area rug, it was all so... homey. It was even inspiring him to decorate his own house a bit.

The sound of your pencil scribbling on paper and the faint sound of the classical music playing was all Leon could hear for awhile, eventually letting out an anxious sigh before beginning to talk. "So... a painter, huh..?"

"Oh yeah, I've been doing this since I was little. Obviously I wasn't that good back then, but I really improved after high school." You immediately responded, voice a little louder than his. Clearly the topic excites you. "If you want, I can hand you one of my other sketchbooks to look at while I do my thing over here?"

Leon patted his hands against the arms of the chair before nodding to the side, pursing his lips slightly. "Mm, sure. Let's see what ya got.."

As soon as he agreed, you stood up and shuffled over to the corner of the room where some desks sat arranged in a makeshift cubicle. You opened a drawer and pulled out a couple sketchbooks, still as raggedy as the one you were using now.

Walking back over, you carefully handed them to him, which he slowly took after meeting your eyes for a brief moment.

Once you made your way back to your chair, he placed both sketchbooks into his lap, opening up the one on top first. The man flipped through them silently as you began to sketch him out again.

You'd zoned into your work, adding just a bit of shading to your sketches to help emphasis some features when Leon cleared his throat again. You leaned to the side to look at him, your smile quickly returning when you saw his baffled expression.

"These are... wow, okay, how old are you?" Leon asked, head jerking upwards to meet your gaze once more. You just giggled in response, using the pencil as a fidget before returning to sketching.

"Sorry-uh, I don't mean to come off as rude or anything, but to be honest, I was expecting you to be some old lady when I saw the portraits you've done." Leon was quick to try and explain, probably misinterpreting your lack of response for unease.

Your giggle turned to a small laugh, leaning to the side once more to look at the man. "Well, I'm glad I could surprise you a bit. Hopefully I don't look old."

Leon groaned and wiped his hand down his face. "Again, sorry. Didn't mean to imply." He shook his head and looked back down at the two sketchbooks sitting in his lap, continuing to flip through them.

It was only a couple hours until you decided you got a good enough feel for drawing his face. Grabbing the sketchbook, you stood up, pencil still in hand, looking down at the sketches you made as you slowly walked over to him.

The man noticed you standing up, quickly moving to close the sketchbooks you'd given him in favor of seeing your new sketches.

"I... I think this'll be enough today. I don't want to keep you too long." You said, handing him the sketchbook. Leon took it from you, careful not to smudge anything as he finally got to see what you've been doing for the past two hours.

He furrowed his eyebrows as he studied the sketches you'd made of his face, seeing all the different angles, even the smile, how'd you get his smile?

You seemed to grow nervous the longer he stared at your sketchbook in silence, his intense look making it seem as if he didn't really like them. "Are they... Are they okay?"

Leon jostled the sketchbook a bit in his hands before standing up, now towering over you as he kept his eyes on the paper. "Just okay? These are beyond amazing."

You let out a small breath you didn't notice you were holding, heat rushing to your cheeks as you smiled at his compliment. "Oh, thank you.. I'm sorry, normally sketches don't take this long but it was stressed to me that your portrait was very important so I wanted to get everything as perfect as I could.."

"Seriously, you're a mad woman if you think these wouldn't be good." Leon chuckled, handing the sketchbook back to you. He kept his eyes trained on you, even after you turned to look down and close the sketchbook. Only a fool would miss that blush on your cheeks, it looked good on you.

"Anyways, when should I come back for the next.. uh..." Leon paused, crossing his arms loosely as he struggled to think of the word.

Luckily, you finished the sentence for him. "Session. Again, this painting's importance was stressed to me a lot, so probably the next time you're available?" You talked while you shifted the small table back to where it had originally sat under one of the numerous windows, tossing the sketchbook down on the chair cushion.

"Alright, since it's importance has now been stressed to me as well, I can probably clear up some stuff in my schedule. How's tomorrow sound?" Obviously, Leon had a completely free schedule, but you didn't need to know that.

"Tomorrow works great! The sooner the better!" You laughed, placing a gentle hand on his bicep as you walked past him to grab a sticky note. "I'll give you my personal number, just let me know when you're thinking of coming over and I'll meet you here, okay?"

Leon looked at your number before pocketing the note, nodding his head with a smile of his own. "Sounds good. Same way out?" He pointed to the door that you brought him in through, bending down to pick up his motorcycle helmet right after.

You confirmed with a thumbs up, now drinking water from your water bottle as you'd forgotten too while focused on drawing. You felt bad for not offering him any water while he was here, but you won't forget next time.

The man gave you a curt wave before leaving the room, quietly shutting the door behind himself.

You had to admit, you've worked with a very small handful of agents since it takes a lot for them to earn their own portrait, but Leon Kennedy had to be the one of the most handsome men you've ever worked with. Maybe even one of the most handsome men you've ever seen.

Lucky you pay attention to detail, cause you definitely didn't see a ring on his finger.

#daily dose of dilf #hes not a dad in this #but that doesn't mean hes not a dilf #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy #leon s kennedy x reader #resident evil #leon s kennedy x you #leon scott kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy fanfic #resident evil death island #resident evil leon #leon s kennedy smut #leon kennedy fic #leon x reader #leon kennedy x fem reader #leon kennedy x f!reader

[sexydoffyman]

Weird request but how would TF141+König and Alejandro react to meeting an orphan around 15 years of age who's like extremely talented in engineering, mathematics and physics, like they could build a rocket if they had the materials ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ It can be HC, whatever you want! I was thinking maybe said orphan got in trouble with the government for unknowingly building some sort of weapon, maybe it was stolen? Twist that however you wish.

Just ignore this ask if you wanna <3

A KID?

genre: action

characters: König, Simon Riley, John MacTavish, Alejandro Vargas, Kyle Garrick

A/n: expect a lot more mistakes. Also thinking this needs a second part.

It’s been 6 years now since the war began. You were left stranded. All by yourself. Left on your own by everyone. Living was hard, but you pulled through. You learned how to do a lot of shit since you were there only with yourself for some time. Building stuff. That was your biggest interest.

You were constantly making things. New weapons mostly. You were always moving, never staying in one place for too long. You got brutal throughout the years you were alone. You took the uniform of a dead soldier. To blend in. You were mistaken for a recruit and pulled inside a helicopter by a military dude.

The military was a great provider of food and healthcare. So you just went along with everything they threw at you. Your knowledge of building shit helped out a lot. And even when some dude figured out you were a kid he let you stay.

The same dude put you in a task force with a man he trusted. You were cautious of everyone in there, but at least you had some people who you could trust a bit.

You picked up how things work from the years of pretending to be a soldier. Pretending to be an adult was getting easier and the task force you were assigned to found a place in your heart.

“There’s gotta be a way.” You finally snapped out of thinking about life before the war. You thought that the military would be a great cover. But now all your hope of making it out alive hit zero. You were stuck and with gas slowly filling the room that you and the others were in you knew your chances of survival were low.

You sat in the corner of the room. You had given up a few minutes ago already. The others were still trying to figure something out.

Suddently you felt something inside of you snap. You were not gonna die today. It must’ve been the panicking of the rough men infront of you that made you have that feeling. You started to search for a solution.

You found a small vent. It was too small to fit a grown man in, but you were not a grown man. You took off your gear and crawled into the vent unnoticed by your team.

You finally got to use the skills you gained. You crawled through the vent and dropped down from the ceiling right on the other side of a door that the rest of your team was trying to open. You managed to get inside some kind of an electrical system. You cut some wires and reconnected some other ones. The door opened with a space in between the doors just a centimeter big.

Grabbing a metal piece from the electrical you prayed the door open. You were met with the looks of your crew. You looked down and put your hand above your forehead to block your face. By now all of them realized that you weren't of age.

You ran into the room to grab your gear while your team gave each other a disgusted glance. “We need to get out of here ASAP,” you said as you walked away from the room. Price grabbed you by the shoulder to stop you. You turned to him with your mask on now.

“How old are you?” he was looking at you worriedly while he said that. You didn’t know what to answer and so after a few stutters you answered “Classified” This only made them feel more curious.

It has been days since that mission and nobody brought up the fact that you were a kid. You did notice that Price stopped shouting orders at you and started just saying them in a normal calm tone. Soap was making more small talk with you than usual. Ghost was staying closer to you, knowing you might not be able to fend off an enemy. Gaz was making sure to double-check your gear.

When you teamed up with Mexican special forces and met Alejandro you were given tasks that you’d be on with multiple people.

When you were stranded from the team, finding your way to a spot they could locate you at, you met another dude. Austrian and huge. Big dude. He was your enemy, but it didn’t take him long to find out that an adult dude would have a little more strength than you did. He forced your mask off and found out that you were in fact a kid.

Instead of killing you, he spared you. Helping you locate your tram instead of them having to look for you.

Would you survive the next missions? That you don’t know. But you do know that you don’t have to worry about pretending to be an adult.

#requests are open #requests open #cod x reader #cod x you #call of duty #cod x male reader #cod mw2 #simon ghost riley x reader #captain price fluff #captain john price x reader #captain price x reader #simon ghost riley fluff #john soap mactavish #john soap mctavish x reader #soap x reader #soap cod #soap fluff #alejandro vargas x reader #alejandro vargas fluff #konig cod #konig x you #konig x reader #konig mw2 #konig call of duty #konig fluff #fluff

[lovebugism]

i am so sorry but reader talking about robin right before making out with eddie is like absolutely the best thing i’ve ever read i’m obsessed i genuinely can’t wait for anything else in that universe that you do

THE CUSTOMER'S ALWAYS RIGHT | god help the girl

summary: in which you come to terms with the fact that you're hopelessly in love with eddie munson. pairing: virgin!eddie munson x reader word count: 13k warning: phone sex, more discussions of shitty boyfriends, j*son c*rver name drop, talks of unhealthy eating practices, smut 18+ mdni! a/n: this ask has been sitting in my inbox for ages now, but i wanted to save it until robin made an appearance in the series! thank you, anon, for being so sweet! and for the few of you who've been waiting on me to finally post <3 hope you enjoy! xoxo

( PREVIOUSLY ) | ( SERIES MASTERLIST ) | ( NEXT )

They only met once, but it changed their lives forever. 

That’s what the movie cover reads at least, but the words have long blurred into a jumbled mess at your tunnel vision. John Bender stares you in the face, but all you see is Eddie — boyish and brazen and scowling because he thinks it makes him look intimidating, but nowhere near as cruel as he seems. 

He’s certainly got the hair for it, much longer and curls far wilder than Judd Nelson’s measly set of brushed-back locks. He’s got the terribly animated personality down pat, too; the one that either makes you laugh uncontrollably or squirm in discomfort when it’s pointed your way. And the style’s a pretty fine match also, though you’d argue that no one sports a leather jacket quite like Eddie Munson does.

Wallowing in your boredom at the empty Family Video store on Main Street — where your best friends slave over mundane work with aching backs and a lingering sense of gratefulness that no customer has been in in well over an hour — you find yourself analyzing each character pictured on the front cover of The Breakfast Club.

Robin would surely be Allison, you conclude rather quickly, because their deadpanned glowers are eerily identical. They’ve also got this sort of atypical aura to them, too, like a dark storm cloud or the promise of a long night. But strangely it sparkles — strikes of lightning or a sky full of stars. It draws everyone’s attention to them; even when they’re desperately trying to hide in the very back of a room.

And Steve would be Andrew, not particularly because of his affections for this Allison-Reynolds-Robin-Buckley hybrid you’ve concocted, but because "popular guy with daddy issues" is a trope that fits him far too well. He’s way more likely to get detention for trying to look cool in front of his assholes friends than for anything actually malicious of heart. But that would’ve been years ago now. He’s not that kind of guy anymore. 

He’s soft and sweet — a Brian Johnson sort of soft and sweet, if you will. If Brian wasn’t the brains, but the sweetest dumbass anyone’s ever met.

You realize then, that Jim Hopper would make a mean Richard Vernon. He’s impatient to a fault, almost too stern at times, but never enough to make you genuinely fearful of him. You’ve found that it’s virtually impossible for you to take him seriously when he’s so cartoonishly angry. It’s a match made in heaven, you find, though Jim might take offense to the comparison.

And if Eddie is Bender, then that’d make you the Claire Standish of the bunch.

She’s dreadfully stylish, a bit stuck-up at times, and perhaps a little bit more spoiled than the average person; but it’s not like she ever claimed to be perfect. And you wouldn’t either.

You’ll take more pride in your wardrobe filled with pretty pleated skirts and flouncy dresses than your somewhat glacial disposition. And you might not be drowning in daddy’s money, but you’re certainly spoiled in other ways — if only in the employee discount at Enzo’s that got you wine for cheap and your connections at Family Video that meant free movie nights whenever you wanted.

The bad boy and the princess was a tale as old as time itself. It’s a fairytale you wouldn’t mind living in if it ended how it did in the movies — with a kiss on the cheek and an exchanged diamond earring in the calloused palm of another. A soft pink smile and a celebratory fist in the air.

But you’ve met your fair share of John Bender’s and none of them had been particularly kind to you, let alone had fallen in love with you. 

Maybe that’s because you were no Claire Standish. Never pretty enough, never mousy enough, never pure enough.  You try and dissect why you’ve never been successfully loved, and all the signs point to you, you, you.

You hope Eddie’s different. You need Eddie to be different.

“Something’s wrong with me,” you blurt out of nowhere.

Well, it’s not totally out of the blue for you. You’d been stewing over that thought since you got there — since you left the woods with damp underwear and the scent of you on Eddie’s fingers.

But to Steve and Robin, who’d stayed relatively silent and locked eyes only once after they noticed how abnormally hushed you’d gone, it catches them quite off guard.

Steve lifts his heavy head from where he mans the counter. His tired eyes leave the computerized catalog for the first time in forty minutes, and he has to rub at them with the bottom of his palms to see you properly. Meanwhile, Robin crouches at your side, taking returned tapes from the bin sitting next to her and placing them back upon the shelf you lean against. 

She blinks up at you, deep ocean eyes swimming with apprehension, like she can sense the spiral you’ve just about twisted yourself into.

“What do you mean?” she wonders, ever the supportive best friend, as she plucks Heather’s, Pretty in Pink, and Weird Science from the bin and sets them onto their assigned rows in the Teen Drama section.

“Eddie won’t fuck me.”

Neither of them is particularly stunned by the unabashed nature of your admission.

Not only have they both fucked you at one point or another, but they’re your best friends — no one’s ever going to know you quite the way they do. It leaves little left unsaid between the three of you, with secrets you’ve all sworn to take to your graves. Steve once stuck a finger in his ass to see if he liked it (he did) and Robin sometimes gets off on her childhood teddy bear (rather ironically named Mr. Snuggles). 

So this? This was nothing. Especially in comparison to all the other shit you’ve confessed to them because god knows the whore of Hawkins has a plethora of stories to tell.

Steve is more shocked by the name that leaves your mouth than anything else. “Eddie Munson?” he repeats with furrowed brows, like he had to have heard you wrong.

You bring your chin to your right shoulder to look at him, then nod.

“Eddie… The Freak… Munson?”

You nod again, slower for him this time.

“You wanna fuck… Eddie Munson?” Steve reiterates once more, as though the idea was too appalling to be true. “Eddie Munson — The Freak?”

“Yes, Steve,” you huff in irritation.

His face contorts into a puppy-like confusion. A frown settles between his bushy brows and he cocks his head to the side, nose scrunching and his lip quirking slightly. He couldn’t look more disgusted if he tried.

“…Why?”

You groan and tilt your head back dramatically. “That’s not what’s important here, Steve. The better question is why won’t he fuck me?”

The boy’s lack of any actual assistance doesn’t surprise Robin in the slightest — his dumbfounded gaze and innate confusion are actually pretty on brand. It just puts all the burden on her, to help you wriggle out of the mess you’d tangled yourself into. 

It’s not like she isn’t used to it, though, nor does she mind doing it for you. She walks you through your emotions like a professional, squashing out all the burning orange embers for you before they have the chance to burst into flames.

“Well, what do you mean he won’t fuck you? Like… did he actually say that or does he just wanna, you know, take things slow?”

The latter would’ve been way too easy. Eddie’s always been nice enough to you. It’d make sense for him to want to stay unhurried and gentle with you, but those words weren’t exactly in your vocabulary. 

The first time you were alone with him, you were getting yourself off on his thigh after making him come in his jeans. The next time you saw him, after four days of him clinging to your consciousness, there wasn’t as much small talk so much as there were two of his fingers stuffed knuckle-deep inside of you.

You don’t know Eddie’s birthday, but you know how he likes to be touched — squeezed and not rubbed. You don’t know his middle name or how he likes his eggs in the morning or what his relationship with his mother is like, but he’s already made you come. Twice.

You are completely, utterly, and totally incapable of taking things slow. So it wasn’t that. It couldn’t be. So it had to be the other thing. The very scary, terrifying, boogeyman of a thing.

“I mean, I offered to give him a blowjob and he completely turned me down,” you lament in reply.

Robin and Steve wince. Like, physically wince. Their faces scrunch and their heads flinch from something invisible. Audible ooh’s fall from their mouths without them even realizing it, because you don’t get rejected. Ever. Especially not after offering to pleasure someone without much of anything in return.

They don’t mean to react the way they do. The visible shock that coats their features is involuntary more than it is anything, and it only adds to your fears.

“Exactly!” you exclaim.

“I hate to say it, but I think hell might be freezing over as we speak,” Steve half-jokes.

“Well, he was working, right?” Robin asks with raised brows. “Maybe he was just busy.”

“Sorry, Rob, but no guy’s too busy for a blowjob.”

“Real charming, Stevie.”

“Maybe he just has a small dick,” the boy concludes with a shrug.

“I felt his dick,” you shake your head almost immediately. The feeling of Eddie’s hard cock through his denim jeans, all rough and warm against your palm, hasn’t yet left you. “It’s not small.”

“Well, maybe he can’t get it up—”

“Yeah, that’s not a problem either.”

Eddie was rock hard when you left him, throbbing and aching and obviously needing some kind of relief. That’s partly why you’d been so ardent to return the favor, though the other half of it was purely selfish — you haven’t seen a more beautiful sight than Eddie Munson getting off. To deprive yourself of that masterpiece made you feel like you were starving.

You have a hard time imagining the raging hard-on just… dissipating after you’d left him. That means he probably jerked off in the back of his van and you missed it. And if he came, right after he promised everything was okay, that means he just didn’t want you to do it… right?

Steve seems to be caught in the same inner turmoil you’re currently stuck in; and for good reason. In all the years he’s known you, he can count on one hand how many times he’s had to turn you down. And every time, it was because he’d gotten back together with Nancy. It was never because of you. Not once. And sometimes he felt like it hurt him as much as it did you. 

As far as Steve’s concerned, you’re so out of Eddie Munson’s league that you’re not even in his fucking orbit — so the freak show, turning you down, doesn’t make whole lot of sense to him.

“Huh…”

“It’s me. It’s definitely me,” you conclude with the shake of your head. A bitter, almost hysterical laugh spills from your lips. “He thinks I’m fucking ugly or disgusting or something. It’s totally fucking me—”  

Robin completely abandons her basket of tapes then. She rises to stand in front of you, looking timid as she does so. Her raised brows form wrinkles on her freckled forehead and her blue eyes widen to reveal more of the whites of them. She looks like she’s approaching a wild animal. A bomb that’s about to explode.

“Okay… You’re starting to spiral, alright? So let’s just try and take a few deep breaths—”

You don’t listen to her. 

Actually, you do quite the opposite, as you begin to blurt every fleeting thought that crosses your mind.

“I’ve made out with nearly everyone in this stupid town— I’m pretty sure I’ve fucked almost half— and you’d think Eddie would wanna take advantage of that, the way everyone makes him out to be some sort of freak, right? But he hasn’t and at this rate, he won’t, and I just don’t understand why,” you ramble without taking in a single breath. “Usually being a slut is a huge turn-on for guys, you know? But what if Eddie thinks it’s gross? I mean, it is gross— I’m gross—”

You only stop for air when Robin takes your shoulders in both hands. She looks less apprehensive and more stern, as she forces you to look at her.

“Look. I love you, but you need to get a hold of yourself, alright? I know you’re not used to being told no, and I know how much it sucks, but shit happens. I’m willing to bet all the money I’ve ever seen that whatever is going on with Eddie has nothing to do with you, okay? And if it’s making you this upset, maybe you should just talk to him.”

“But I don’t wanna seem like I’m too eager, that’s gross—”

“Then find someone else to fuck,” she offers with her signature Robin Buckley half-smile. “I’m sure it would take you less than five minutes to find a willing participant.”

“Yeah, right here,” Steve jokes from the counter with the pathetic wave of his hand and a dumb grin on his lips. 

You don’t hear him over the voices in your head — half calling you crazy for letting a boy drive you this mad over nothing, and the other half bitterly affirming each of your deep-rooted insecurities.

Your face screws up, like the thought of being with anyone other than Eddie upsets you — it does upset you.

“I don’t want anyone else.”

“Then what do you want?” Robin yells in your face, shaking you by your shoulders.

“I want Eddie!” you shout back without thinking. The words seem to spill out of nowhere. It takes you of all people by surprise. No one in this rat trap town would ever expect the whore of Hawkins to want to settle down, least of all the harlot herself. It’s strange; it’s riveting; it’s really fucking scary. “…Fuck.”

The brunette smirks, proud of herself. “Well. There’s your answer.”

“I hate when you’re right,” you mumble to yourself, pouting as she crouches back down again.

“I know.”

It was a terrifying thought, to know that you were head over heels for someone else. You try to come to terms with what that means. 

Sometimes you think you fall in love with a new person every day. A cute guy holds the door open for you, a pretty girl compliments your outfit — they never think about you again, but they’re on your mind for days. It was so easy to develop such meaningless infatuations, especially when you were bored.

But Eddie was different.

He was a nice guy. A nice guy that was sweet to you just for the sake of being sweet to you; not because he secretly wanted something in return. That made you fall for him at first, but then you just… kept on falling. Eddie Munson was an infinite void you couldn’t crawl your way out of even if you wanted to, even if you tried.

And that’s what frightened you the most.

Because if you really thought about it, you’ve only truly been in love a handful of times. And, sure, it didn’t work out — that was normal — but some of them fucking ruined you. 

You’re still trying to figure out who you are without all of the people that have broken your heart. You’re still fighting like hell every day to recognize the person you see in the mirror, while Billy Hargrove fucks off with a new girl every other week like he didn’t totally destroy you.

But, even still, Eddie was completely different. No one’s ever made you feel the way he makes you feel. And it’s more than the stupid heavy petting — it’s more than anything. It’s never been like this before; not even with the blonde mulleted asshole who ripped your heart to shreds. 

And you’re scared that if you get hurt again, you’ll never be able to come back from it.

“Steve, do you have another copy of Fast Times in the back?” you suddenly ask the boy, tossing him a look over your shoulder.

It’s your last ditch effort to rid yourself of the ponderous, gray doom and gloom surrounding you like some storm cloud. Your comfort movie solves all of your problems — or, at the very least, Phoebe Cates does — but it seems everyone else in town has developed a similar fondness for minute fifty-three of the film and got all the tapes off the shelf before you could get your hands on one.

“You know I keep on in stock for you,” he answers quietly.

He reaches below the counter to pull out a spare copy for you, and your heart swells with the rays of a thousand rising suns and the songs of every morning bird.

Steve told you some time ago that he could change. And back then, all it did was piss you off, because he didn’t want to change for the town slut — for the girl he put through the goddamn ringer. He wanted to change for Nancy. The princess bruised his brittle ego a little, and then he realized what an asshole he’d been to everyone, to you.

But as angry as it made you, you never believed him. “Once the King of Hawkins High, always the King of Hawkins High,” you remarked bitterly.

You wouldn’t say it to his face, for the sake of keeping his ego from inflating all over again, but you could tell he was really changing.

He was kinder, he was softer. He stopped caring about what everyone thought about him, about what not caring would do to his reputation, and started giving a fuck about the people worth giving a fuck about. 

Apparently, you were one of them.

“…Really?”

He nods with a subtle shrug. Like it was no big deal. Like it wasn’t one of the sweetest things he’d ever done for you — keeping your favorite movie on hand so you’ll always have a spare, knowing that it’s the only thing that gets you out of a deep, dark funk sometimes.

“Stevie… You’re gonna make me blush,” you lilt with a grin as you saunter over to him, hands innocently laced behind your back. “You need to be careful, Harrington. I’m gonna start to think you actually like me.”

He scoffs. “I do like you.”

“Yeah, when it’s convenient.”

It’s obvious your joke hits him where it hurts. It serves as a bitter reminder of the asshole he used to be, the douchebag he’s trying like hell to grow out of. He looks up at you with a sheepish, honey-tinted gaze before ducking away again.

A year or more ago it would’ve made you feel good, to know that you hurt him just a fraction of the way he hurt you. But you know that that isn’t the same man standing in front of you now, that he’d rather die than make hurt your feelings, and it makes you feel like shit for saying it in the first place. 

“Sorry,” you apologize with a scrunched nose. The palms of your hands dig into the edges of the counter as you lean against it. Your shrug. “It just kinda came out…”

The barcode scanner in his hand beeps as he passes the thing over the back of the tape — never charging you, just getting the movie out of the database.

“So, uh…” he starts before clearing his throat. He focuses his gaze on the computer and types on the bulky keyboard with the tip of his pointer finger. “You really like this Eddie guy, huh?”

“Maybe. I think so.”

“And he’s not, like… a total freak or anything?”

You can’t tell if he’s trying to look out for you or if he just wants intel on what it’s like trying (and failing) to bang the local weirdo. Either way, it makes a smile tug slow at your lips as you joke: “Not in the way everyone thinks.”

“Jesus,” he winces at the obscenity of your words.

“Sorry,” you apologize again, though the laugh that bubbles from your lips after cancels out any hint of actual sincerity. “You don’t need to give me the talk or anything, Steve. I can take care of myself.”

“…Can you?” he half-jokes.

It makes you falter. “Well… With you and Robin and Hopper constantly on my ass, then yeah.”

“Just don’t want you to get hurt,” Steve finally admits, soft and suddenly shy as he hands the VHS over to you.

“That’s rich coming from you—”

He jerks back the tape before you can take it from him, leaving your hand reaching for thin air. His cinnamon eyes glimmer with a foreign seriousness, not completely unkind, but lacking their usual blithe. “That’s why I’m saying it. I just… I want you to be okay.”

Steve is one of the rare ones, you conclude right then in there — in the liminal emptiness of Family Video, beneath fluorescent lights that cast sharp shadows upon his already chiseled features. He was a mythical creature of a man, one who breaks your heart and does everything in his power to mend it again.

He hasn’t forgotten about what he did to you, not like Billy did, and he won’t. Not ever. He saw what he did to you and he never moved on from it, just matured enough to make sure it never happened again. And he won’t let another unworthy douchebag hurt you like he did. Not if he can help it, at least.

And he did try to warn you about Hargrove, to be fair. You were just the dumbass that didn’t listen.

“Well, me and my Phoebe Cates wet dream are golden, Pony Boy,” you promise. He hands you the tape again and lets you snatch it from his grip this time. “Don’t worry your pretty little head, Stevie.”

Steve Harrington was right. 

The fleeting thought flashes across your mind for half a second, and you quickly realize that those words have never been uttered in the same sentence before now. But he wasn’t wrong in what he’d said about you, just before you left — you were completely, totally, absolutely, and implicitly unable to take care of yourself.

You nearly passed out in the bathroom after taking the hottest shower of your life, feeling too woozy to slap on anything other than moisturizer because you failed to remember to actually eat something that day. It wasn’t totally your fault, though; if anything, it was because of Eddie and all the butterflies he’d given you that made food the very last thing on your mind.

You half-heartedly dry yourself off, keeping your hair in a towel, while you slip on a cotton set of underwear you’ve had for way longer than what's likely acceptable. Damp and half-naked, you prance into the kitchen to fix Bowie her bowl of dinner before you feed yourself.

You fork a can of wet food onto a flower-shaped plate and let her eat on the counter — because you’re an adult now, and you can do that sort of thing.

The calico purrs while she feasts, but your stomach thunders with negligence. You peek into your mostly bare refrigerator and make a mental note to go grocery shopping when you get paid next week. 

With a lack of food and an even lesser will to cook something, you settle for the half-eaten chocolate bar you keep stashed in the very back of the fridge; kept only for the most special of occasions — when you’re reveling in your loneliness and trying to convince yourself that you can make it on your own.

It was practically the size of your forearm when you first bought the thing at some too expensive candy store in the city. Now it’s no bigger than your hand.

You eat the thing in bed, even though you know you’ll get crumbs everywhere and that it’ll make sleep agonizing for you — if you get any, that is. You’re bound to feel like a total zombie by the time the sun rises and the late-night sweet will likely make its appearance on your skin by then, in a red and raging blemish of a consequence.

You’ll feel empty and starved and surly, a snapping grouch instead of an actual person, until you get some actual food in your system.

And you’re more than aware of all of these things, but you don’t do a single damn thing about them.

You’re nothing but a sulking lump upon an unmade bed, lying in a pitch-black darkness that’s evaded only by the static-y television across your room, trying your best to pretend like you aren’t waiting for Eddie’s phone call. It’s hard to remember to forget him, though, when the movie you’re watching is practically a feature film of him and all the ways he makes you feel.

Spicoli and his terribly inebriated friends slur as they chorus “No shoes, no shirt, no diiiice” and you swear you can feel Eddie’s shoulder bump softly against yours as he laughs, hear every sound of his melodic chuckle in your ear that made you giggle right along with him. The low bass of Moving in Stereo plays in the otherwise empty silence of your bedroom, and every beat feels like the rhythm of your thrusts against his thigh.

Eddie Munson is all-consuming.

Even the thought of him feels physical.

Phoebe Cates all but undresses herself in front of you, but you’re stuck thinking about some guy who lives in a trailer park across town, deals drugs for a living, and can’t graduate high school. You’re a total fucking goner.

Your eyes flutter shut, and instead of the backs of your eyelids, you see Eddie’s trailer. Your lips start to tingle as they kiss his for the first time — hungry, yearning, needing. His thigh is pressed snugly into your cunt, denim jeans rough against your soft cotton panties, and you have to bite back a moan when he tenses every time you squeeze his hard, covered cock.

You can feel it, all of him, like he were here with you now. 

You wish that he were.

His fingers would feel far better, leave far more sparks of electricity in your belly, than the ones as you sneak through the hem of your underwear.

You try and take things slow with yourself, to be as gentle as he had been with you earlier in the woods, but it feels strange to treat yourself with so much tenderness. To touch your pussy like it’s the first time it’s ever been touched. Like it’s a beautiful thing you need to be sweet to.

Maybe you find it so foreign to be careful with yourself because no one has ever been careful with you.

No one, except for Eddie.

Your touch doesn’t rival his. It doesn’t even come close.

No matter how tightly you squeeze your eyes shut or how hard you try to pretend that they’re his fingers inside of you, you can’t make yourself feel as good as he did.

Your fingers aren’t as rough as his guitar-string-scarred ones and they don’t caress your clit with the same methodical care. They don’t fill you quite the same either, nowhere near as satisfying as his much thicker ones.

And you’re no stranger to masturbation, not by any means. Sometimes it’s the only way you can guarantee an orgasm for yourself when you’ve got a partner who cares so little about your own pleasure. But Eddie was different. Eddie cared — so much so, that he’s gotten more orgasms out of you than you’ve gotten from him, which is something you’ve never said about anyone else you’ve been with.

It’s rare and unfamiliar, a bouquet of all things refreshing and terrifying and strange, tied together with a pretty little ribbon.

You know that you can make yourself come. It’ll just take way too long to actually be worthwhile and won’t be nearly as mind-blowing as you need it to be. You won’t be left with trembling thighs and nearly numb legs — just a pitiful excuse for an orgasm that you could get from any one of your exes with half as much work.

What you need is Eddie. 

And you hate that. You hate how much you need him and you’re terrified of what that means.

As far as precedent goes, right when you start needing someone is usually when they start to leave. It’s like fucking clockwork most of the time — like everyone knows that you’re a ticking time bomb and eventually it gets too risky to stand too close to you. 

You’ll just have to keep Eddie at arm's distance. So he won’t see the grenade that you are.

You pull your fingers out of your wanting cunt, still slick and throbbing with a need that you can’t give it, when the phone rings.

The high-pitched shrill in the quiet makes you tense like it’s the first time you’ve ever heard the damn thing. Your breath catches in your throat, first out of fright and then at the inclination of who waits for you on the other line.

Suddenly, you’re scrambling to collect yourself. As though there was any possibility that Eddie might be able to see you through the phone line.

You wipe your wet fingers haphazardly on the cotton of your underwear and sit up straighter from your ungracefully lazed position. Then you count to five — one mississippi… two mississippi… three — so Eddie won’t think you’re some kind of crazy person who doesn’t have anything better to do than wait for his call. 

So he won’t know that’s exactly what you are.

You lift the ruby red rotary from its hook at your bedside table and stretch the corkscrew cord to press it to your ear. “…Hello?”

“Yeah, hi. I’d like to order a pizza. Half pepperoni, half hawaiian.”

You roll your eyes at his dumb joke, even though the familiarity of his voice makes you smile. It warms you like a home-cooked meal, like you were high-pitched and starving before and now you’re on the soothing comedown of finally being satiated.

“Yeah, sorry, we’re closed.”

“Then why’d you pick up the phone, huh?” he teases back. You swear you can hear the grin in his voice. You didn’t know a smile could be so audible. It makes you wonder if he can hear yours — if you’re doing a real shit job at pretending. You anxiously twirl the cord with the pointer finger of your free hand.

“Because I’ve been waiting for you to call me all night, dummy.” 

Your answer is more honest than either of you were expecting. 

Eddie’s sigh crackles through the shoddy reception. “Yeah. Sorry ‘bout that, sweetheart. I’ve been working all night. I only got home, like, five minutes ago.”

You can hear the heavy exhaustion in his voice. “Rough day?”

“Kinda,” he answers with a shrug. You can hear the grating squeak of his mattress as he plops down onto his bed. “I dealt to one of Jason’s goons today… They always give me a hard time.”

“I’m sorry,” is all you can think to answer. 

Eddie’s been the brunt of every joke since seventh grade — people made fun of too big clothes, his too wild hair, his too loud music. But he took it all in stride, laughing with everyone else before volleying a harsher joke back in response. You almost started to think that he liked it. That, somewhere deep down, he was fond of all the attention he got from people who supposedly couldn’t stand him.

But it hurts to know that it hurts him.

“Don’t apologize. It’s not like you did anything,” he assures with a soft laugh. He makes the bold decision to be honest then, too. “You, uh… You made my day a whole lot better, actually.”

You don’t know if he’s talking about the brief fling in the woods or the phone call you’re sharing now or if you particularly care either way. Your heart flutters like it’s been kissed by the wings of a butterfly.

“Really?”

“Yeah. I mean… I don’t know— I couldn’t stop thinking about you, you know. And, knowing that I was gonna get to talk to you again kinda got me through the day, I guess… And, yes, I am fully aware of how lame that sounds, but—”

You don’t get to hear the rest of his excuse, of why what he just told you totally isn’t lame, because you’re covering the receiver with your palm and turning to squeal into your pillow. A far more pathetic sight, in your humble opinion.

There hasn’t been a more fulfilling feeling than this one, to know that he’s been feeling the same way you’ve been feeling about him this whole time. It’s better than all the orgasms he could give you combined, to be loved so wholly.

“…You okay?” you hear his muffled voice ask after you’ve gone suddenly AWOL.

You press the phone back to your ear and nod like he can see you. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m good. The phone… fell— you said you just got home?”

“Uh, yeah. I met with Hellfire for a bit at school. We’re almost at the end of the Cult of Vecna, so they’re kinda on my ass about it. The little shits are obsessed.”

“Well, they should be. It’s a really good campaign, Eds.”

“Thanks to you,” he mutters. You can almost picture the glimmer in his button eyes and the shaky half-smirk he always looks at you with when he gets all shy.

“That was all you, Eddie Spaghetti,” you retort. “I still have no idea how you did it.”

“Did what?” he wonders, chuckling a bit at the nickname.

“Make something so beautiful out of thin air.”

Lying in the depths of his bedroom, blanketed by the darkness and bathing in streams of moonlight, Eddie feels his breath catch in his throat. 

For the first time in his life, he doesn’t have a joke to spew out on the spot. He’s speechless, just for a moment, a quick blink of a second, with nothing to say. Because, if he really thinks about it, that’s sort of what happened with you.

You were just his customer and he was just your dealer.

You were a loyal client and then a girl way out of his league that he developed a too big a crush on. Then you made him come in his underwear and washed the sticky stains out of the denim for him. Now you’re on the phone with him. You let him tell you all about his shitty day and apologize like you weren’t the only good thing about it — like you aren’t the only good thing, period.

It’s not the most cliche love story, nor is it the most beautiful, but it has his cynical little heart beating like the wings of a hummingbird.

Then, when all the mushy mess fades like fog, he finally thinks of something to say.

“It’s the witchcraft, sweetheart,” he shrugs to himself. “Didn’t you hear? I’m a devil-worshipping freak.”

“You know that’s not it, Eds,” you retort with the roll of your eyes.

You know that it’s hard, to be a metalhead from the wrong side of the tracks in the eighties — at the height of the Satanic Panic and all the delusional craze. That shit’s followed him since freshman year. Even still, it nips at his ankles like rabid dogs.

Maybe you were never naive or bored enough to believe all the rumors, but Eddie Munson was always more than that to you.

“No?”

“You can blame it on being a freak show all you want, but I know it’s because you’re one of the funniest, smartest, most creative guys I’ve ever met—”

“You must not know a ton of guys then, sweetheart,” he interjects playfully, like he couldn’t stand to hear you compliment him any longer. You’d give anything to see his blushing cheeks just now.

“…You’re kidding right?” you giggle in response.

“Sorry— that’s— I didn’t mean it like— It was— I was joking,” he stammers, frightened that he might’ve offended you in some way. 

It only makes you laugh harder. Both of you know you lost count of all the guys you ‘know’ a long, long time ago. You do imagine it’s somewhere near ‘a ton’, though.

“I know, Eds,” you assure with a contented sigh. “I was just teasing.”

“Oh.”

“The slut and the freak… Who would’ve thought?” you wonder all dreamily, like it’s a fairytale as old as time itself. That’s what it feels like, sometimes.

Eddie isn’t sure what you mean — who would’ve thought you’d be friends? Two people caught in that in-between stage of platonic and romance that’s complete agony and total, total bliss? A couple of kids falling in love—

“It’s sort of kismet, huh?” he answers.

“I think so.”

“So, uh… What are you up to?” Eddie wonders then, equal parts curious and eager to keep the discussion going. He’s frightened any lapse in conversation is going to lead to saying goodbye. 

He wants to stay on for hours, until both of you are fighting to stay awake, and then listen to the sound of your heavy breathing when you inevitably lose — like that isn’t the creepiest thing anyone’s ever wanted. He’ll fight Wayne about the bill if it comes to that, he doesn’t care, he just never wants to stop being this close to you.

“Do you want the real answer or the fake one?”

“Uh… Both?”

“Well, I’d say I was doing something super productive with my night, you know, catching up on all the boring adult shit, but then I’d be lying. And I don’t wanna lie to you, Eds,” you tell him with a teasing lilt playing at the edge of your voice.

Eddie swallows thickly, fearing he’d somehow been caught in his own lie — or rather, his half-truth. He moves on quickly, though not exactly full of grace. “Right. Yeah. Totally.”

“Honest answer is, that the only productive thing I’ve done tonight is shower, and now I’m in bed watching Fast Times and eating all the chocolate in my house, because I can’t cook for shit and I have nothing else better to do with my night,” you admit to him, picking at the thread of your comforter.

“Oh, don’t tell me I missed the ‘Moving in Stereo’ bit,” he agonizes.

“Just.”

“Well, correct me if I’m wrong, sweetheart, but it sounds like you’re having loads of fun tonight.”

“I’m having a lot more fun now,” you assure him.

“Glad I can be around to make you laugh,” he retorts like he’s not all too happy to do it.

“You’re a total comedian, Eddie Spaghetti.”

“If I’m the jester, you’re the queen, sweetheart,” he promises, a grin evident in his voice.

Your breath catches in your throat something fierce; you’re almost worried that he’s heard it. His words pierce your heart, a stroke of lightning or a blade of steel. He’s joking, but it’s so strangely profound, the kindest thing anyone’s ever said to you and it’s dripping in sarcasm. 

It’s sort of Eddie’s love language, you’ve come to understand, to say something so sweet but coated in venom to make it sour again. It makes you feel special, loved, almost.

A fire builds behind your rib cage, sharp and distant and all-consuming.

“Are you alone, Eds?” you ask him suddenly.

The sudden curve ball in the conversation takes him by surprise. “Uh, yeah, Wayne’s at work right now… Why?”

“Because I want you to talk to me…”

“Oh?” is all he can say because isn’t that what he’s been doing this whole time?

“And I want you to say things that… maybe other people shouldn’t hear,” you explain slowly to him.

“…Oh.”

He’s heard about this only once before, the whole phone sex thing. 

It was from Andy in the back of Ms. O’Donnell’s class a year or more ago, though Eddie never called him by that name. Andy, in all actuality, was Jason Carver’s right-hand man, and he meant that in every sense of the phrase. Eddie was more than convinced that the guy was so obsessed with the blonde haired, blue eyed douchebag that he was giving him handjobs on the regular.

But it seemed the dick brigade couldn’t function properly without their leader and Eddie had the misfortune of hearing all the mindless bullshit they were spewing behind him — basketball, parties, girls; in true white bread fashion.

His friends gathered around him like he was telling some sort of secret, though it was loud enough for anyone in a three foot radius to hear. Eddie, caught directly in the line of fire, heard all about Chrissy’s older sister, Wendy, who was two years older and off at college. 

He’d gotten her number from some party he’d crashed. At least that’s how he told it, right before telling everyone that she swore like a sailor when she came and that she told him all the dirty things she wanted to do to him while she did.

“It was like her hand was on my dick, dude, I’m serious. That shit was crazy, bro,” he’d laughed after retelling the whole conversation in excruciating detail.

Eddie rolled his eyes to himself then, inwardly jealous that he’d never get to meet Wendy — or any other girl that would be willing to have phone sex with him, for that matter. His phone only ever rang for telemarketers or a rogue Dustin Henderson calling to annoy him.

But, here you are now, the most wanted girl in Hawkins, offering it to him on a silver platter. He wonders if you’ve done this before, surely you have — oh god, he thinks to himself, what if you’ve done this with Andy?

“We don’t have to if you don’t want to,” you assure him after his unusually long silence. “I know you’re probably busy and tired and everything—”

“No! No, yeah, I— I want to. I totally want to.”

“Okay,” you nod. Petals of a flower begin to bloom in your chest as you lie back in bed, settling further into the mattress. The movie, already long forgotten, serves only as light and background noise. “So… What are you wearing, Eds?”

“I feel like I should be asking you that,” he laughs. 

On the other side of Hawkins, in a trailer in the middle of nowhere, Eddie rises from where he’d originally flopped back onto his bed with the notion that it was going to be a semi-normal night. He props himself against his headboard. His fingers twitch at his thigh.

“Beat ya to it, Munson.”

“Well, I’ll have you know that it is very sexy, sweetheart. I’m wearing the same Hellfire shirt you saw me in, I don’t know, five hours ago — except now it’s got a rip in it because I totally ate ass on the way back to the van.”

He tells you this to make you laugh — it works — but he prays you don’t ask any questions. Because he got it while hurrying back to his van mere minutes after you’d left him, so hard he thought he was going to burst, with no more than seven minutes until his next client arrived.

 Thankfully, he only needed three.

“I love that shirt,” you respond in place of saying what you really want to — ‘I love how that shirt looks on you’ — how it clings to his lean torso and reveals his midriff whenever he stretches his arms over his head.

“She’s a lit-tle worse for wear now, sweetheart,” he lilts.

“I’ll stitch it up for you.”

“And I’ve got on a pair of boxers that are so old they’re practically see through because I’m pretty sure they used to be Wayne’s back in… I don’t know… the eighteen-hundreds.”

Eddie was right. It was sexy, though, for the exact reason they weren’t supposed to be. 

There was something so domestic about it all. You can picture him lying in his bed, in the most comfortable clothes he owns, in the one place he can feel at peace. Like a renaissance painting, something familiar and comforting and beautiful — fuck, you’d give anything to be next to him.

“…I think that means it’s your turn now, sweetheart,” he teases.

“Is it?” you mock in return.

“C’mon. Don’t leave me hangin’ over here.”

“It’s nothing, special,” you assure. Your eye flits down to peer at your own body — nothing special, indeed, you think to yourself. The lilac cotton set came from the grocery store downtown on the clearance rack you so often frequent. “I just have my underwear on. It’s very boring, I’m afraid.”

It’s not boring. Not to Eddie — the boy who prides himself on his insanely active imagination. He might not be able to pass english with his brain, but he can certainly create worlds with it, and it’s too easy for him to picture you. He imagines you, freshly showered, and smelling of the warm lavender-vanilla scent you always smell like, mostly bare and lazing upon a fluffy comforter.

He swallows thickly. “Oh, that’s— that’s really, uh— that’s really sexy.”

His thankful that you don’t seem to mind his poor excuse for dirty talk.

“It’s only because I was too lazy to get into actual pajamas.”

“I’m glad you didn’t.”

“Yeah?” you press, smiling to yourself and caging your bottom lip between your teeth.

“Yeah.”

“Can I tell you a secret, Eds?” you wonder, made brave enough by his own admission.

“‘Course you can.”

“Before you called…”

“…Uh-huh?” he eggs on, intrigued at the way you trailed off, sounding suddenly shy.

“I was…” The thought of telling him what you were doing mere seconds before he called makes you nervous. It wasn’t like you were ashamed of touching yourself or anything, nor is the art of dirty talking lost on you, but something about Eddie makes you timid.

“You were… what, sweetheart?” he wonders gently, with a too audible grin.

“I was touching myself.”

That’s all you tell him. The words linger and hang in the air of your separate bedrooms and you cling to the silence — almost mortified and anticipating his reply. Eddie, meanwhile, feels like his tongue has swelled in his mouth and all the air has been punched out of his lungs.

“Oh...” he tries to respond without the breath to accurately do so. “…Yeah?”

“You know what Phoebe Cates does to me,” you try to joke.

His laughter crackles through the receiver. “Yeah. I kinda have her to thank for the other night, don’t I?”

“Give yourself some credit, Eds. The hottest guy in Hawkins was sitting right next to me, what was I supposed to do?”

“No way you think I’m the hottest guy in town,” he scoffs. “Everyone knows you’ve got a thing for pretty boys.”

“Pretty boys?” you echo with a giggle.

“Uh-huh. The Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington type, you know?”

“Well, I think you’re a hundred times prettier than he is.”

“Really?” he scoffs cynically, obviously not believing you.

“He wasn’t the one I was thinking about with my hand shoved down my panties,” you admit, immediately quelling his self-doubt. “That’s gotta count for something, right?”

Eddie clears his throat and then stammers, “I— I guess so— yeah.”

“Are you hard, Eds?” you ask in a breathy whisper.

And he just nods to himself at first, too stupid to answer audibly. He can feel himself stiffening in his boxers, only halfway hard now, but getting firmer by the second. Soon, he’ll be aching. 

“Yeah…”

“Can you touch yourself for me?”

Eddie would rather take a bullet to the chest than say no to you — at least, he figures that’d probably hurt less — so he slips his fidgeting fingers through the band of his boxers and takes his warm, stiffening cock in his hand. He squeezes himself just enough to make his stomach tighten.

“Want you to touch yourself, too,” he admits, neither asking or demanding it, just telling you.

“Yeah?” you tease.

“Well, I think it’s only fair, sweetheart.”

You can’t help but notice how breathy he’s gotten — how it shakes on the inhale and hitches on the out. He’s got his hand shoved down his underwear and you’re jealous of the fingers that get to wrap themselves around his cock. You wish they were yours. Both of you will have to settle, it seems.

“Whatever you want, Eds,” you answer playfully. 

You obediently slide your hand back into the warmth of your panties. Your fingers slot between your lips and collect the slick that had gathered there since before you’d even answered the phone. You bring it up to your clit, circling the pads of your fingers there until you twitch, then dragging them down to press into your opening. They slip in with ease. 

Both of you have turned into lovesick idiots, separated by so many miles, and missing the other most ardently. Lying in the depths of your bedrooms, basking in a velvet loneliness, building with a mutual pleasure with nothing but yearning hands and longing sighs.

Eddie’s eyes flutter shut at the sounds of your low moans and fragile whimpers that crackle through the static — beautiful still, but certainly no match to the ones you were breathing in his ear just hours ago. 

His lashes dance across his cheeks as he tries to remember how you’d felt against his fingers, soft like velvet and delicate like silk, weeping and pulsating with need. 

He drags his hand from his boxers and lets the band snap against his pelvis. He spits into his palm and wets his cock with it, sighing as he tugs at himself without much friction.

“Are you wet, sweetheart?” he asks, though the words threaten to get stuck in his throat.

“Yeah,” you whisper back like it’s some kind of secret. 

You work yourself open with your middle finger and slip your pointer in next to it without much trouble. Your walls flutter around them while you fight to find the spot the makes you keen. You’re only able to tease it, fingers not quite long enough to caress it completely. Your thumb keeps working at your clit, though, to make up for the lost pleasure. 

“I’ve been wet since I left you,” you admit through labored breaths. “Haven’t been able to… to stop thinking about you, Eds.”

“Glad I’m not the only one whipped over here, sweetheart,” he manages a laugh.

“No one’s ever made me come that hard before. Not just with their fingers,” you tell him mindlessly, dumb on pleasure, as you feel yourself climbing that peak.

“Really?”

“Never,” you promise, then whine. “Doesn’t even feel as good now… Can’t get as deep as you can—”

Eddie hangs on your every word as he works his palm up and down his stiff cock, squeezing at the base and swiping his thumb over the head with an expert hand. His face scrunches as his stomach starts to tighten, he’s close to coming — too close for his liking. He doesn’t want this to be over so quickly.

“You’ve ruined every other guy for me, Eddie Munson,” you confess, more than pleased to hear how it makes him whine. It sounds like it comes from the depths of his chest, the way it crackles low and needy through the receiver.

“Good,” he grumbles through his pants after he’s gathered himself all over again. “Don’t want anyone else to have you, sweetheart.”

This time you’re the one letting out the most pathetic of whines. It makes a smile flicker at the corners of his lips.

“You like that?”

It sounds so dirty, but you can tell by the sincerity of his tone that it’s genuine. So you answer with a longing truthfulness, a delicate “yes”entwined with a yearning moan.

“You just wanna belong to me, don’t ya?” 

Now, this is dirty talk. The teasing lilt of his tone — it’s almost degrading —  and makes you clench around your fingers. “Yes, please,” you whine, all but pleading for him now.

Eddie’s close, so dreadfully close, with a pleasure so tangible he could taste it. Your words make his cock twitch in his hold as the fire builds in his belly. 

Through your whole-hearted promises and wanting moans, he can hear the sound of your slick through the receiver. The static reception doesn’t do it justice, but the wet click of your fingers working you open was unmistakable.

A moan grumbles in his throat as he digs the crown of his head back into his pillow. “Holy fuck— I can hear you, baby.”

“I’m so wet for you, Eds,” you tell him through fragile slurs, like it wasn’t inherently obvious. 

You were wrong before, about wanting to hide from him. You couldn’t conceal your need for Eddie if you tried. The honey you drip, all sweet and just for him, wouldn’t let you keep it a secret.

“I know, baby, I know,” he nearly coos. “Are you— fuck, please tell me you’re close?”

“Yes,” you promise in a whine. Your thumb presses harder into your clit. It makes your thighs tense until they’re shaking.

“You rubbing your clit for me, sweetheart?” he asks like he knows. “I know that’s what you like.”

You whimper, working at the spongy spot within you as your hips buck off the bed. “Yeah.”

“Keep rubbing yourself like that for me, okay? Want you to keep going until you come for me.”

If he keeps talking to you like that, it’ll come a lot quicker than he’s prepared for. 

It’s too soft to be much of a demand, but you listen obediently anyway, rubbing at yourself though your sensitivity keeps building. It grows like a morning tide, rising and flowing like white waves on an ocean, stirring something fierce in the depths of your stomach.

“Eddie,” you sigh out his name, broken through staggered pants.

You hear his stuttering breaths, too. “Y—Yeah?”

“I’m about to come,” you promise through a whine when the familiar crescendo sends a shock through your body.

“O… Okay,” he responds, pathetically, then whines, even more so.

“Want you to come with me… Please…”

“Fuck— okay. Shit, sweetheart, I’m almost there.”

“What are you thinking about?” you ask him.

“Your pussy,” he answers without thinking — he’s not doing a whole lot of that anymore. “Wish I’d gotten to taste you earlier. Wanna feel you… fuck… Wanna feel you come on my tongue.”

“Holy shit, Eds,” you moan at his words, at the vivid picture they paint in your head.

“And you get so… God, you get so fucking wet. Just want you to drench me, baby.”

It feels good, to be complimented for something boys used to make fun of you for, to realize for the first time that’s it’s sexy — that you’re sexy — and that Eddie is more than happy to drown in you. The feeling almost rivals the impending orgasm that’s bound to hit you like a tidal wave.

“I’m thinking about how I coulda took you on that bench… Just, fucking, get on my knees for you. Shove my head between your legs. Hold your— shit, baby— hold your thighs open, keep you exactly where I want you,” he rambles but then cuts himself off to moan at his own words. “Goddamn, sweetheart. Wanna taste you so fucking bad.”

The moan you let out is pitiful. It leaves your mouth in the most delicate cry. 

No picture has ever been clearer than the one of Eddie between your thighs, your hands knotted in his hair to move him to exactly where you need him most and forcing him there. You can feel his fingers digging into your hips, his rings pressed against your burning skin, and the way your legs tremble on either side of his head.

“Yeah. Keep— Keep doing that. Keep moaning for me,” Eddie tells you. “I’m about to… holy fuck, I’m about to come.”

“Wanna feel your tongue in me so bad, Eds,” you whimper, egged on by the moan he lets out. “Want your cock even more.”

That’s what does him in, the assurance — the promise — that you want him just as bad as he wants you. 

He tightens his fist around his cock, achingly hard and raging a crimson at the tip, trying to imitate the way you’d feel around him. It’s not all that close, not nearly as wet as the honey you’d be dripping for him, but his imagination does the rest of the work for him. 

All at once, you’re on top of him, riding him for all he’s worth, your pussy threatening to swallow him whole. You’ve drenched him, just like he’d begged for, and that wet schlick noise still echoing from the receiver is the evidence of each of your assured thrusts over top of him. 

You’re still pleading for him anyway — for more, for his tongue, for his cock — and he wants so desperately to give everything to you.

“Oh god, baby—” he sputters. He grips the phone in a white-knuckled, fist trembling. “Oh, fuck, I’m coming, baby.”

“Please, Eddie. Please come for me,” you plead over the low sounds of the forgotten film playing across the room and all the dirty wet sounds your pussy makes against your fingers. You sound like you need it, like you want his orgasm more than your own.

“Want you to come with me… Can you— Can you do that for me, sweetheart? Please?” It’s not dirty talk anymore. He’s actually fucking begging you and doesn’t feel the least bit ashamed to do so. 

He wants to hear all the pretty noises you make when you come — that initial cry that stems from the depths of your soul, the high-pitched whimpers that come when the sensitivity builds, and the whines that leave you when it ebbs.

He wants to hear it over and over and over again, like a worn cassette, and play it until the tape spins out.

“Yes…” you promise through a set of stuttering breaths.

There’s no talking when either of you come. Eddie’s long forgotten to talk you through it, but you would barely hear him if he had. The phone slips out of your hand when your grip slackens and it falls to the pillow beside your head.

You chase your orgasm full throttle, working through the crescendo and the strikes of lightning, focusing only on his muffled moaning and the pretty sounds he makes as he comes. 

The breath of your name whimpered through a tight throat is what does it for you. Your body has hardly any time to warn you before you’re gushing all over your fingers, twitching every time the pad of your thumb rubs over clit.

That cry, the one you always let out as you come — all wet and full of need — makes Eddie orgasm right alongside you. 

He swipes his thumb over his head again, collecting the pearls of precum gathering there and sliding them down the base to squeeze himself there like he’d been doing this whole time. He clutches harder this time, imagines it's your cunt locking him in a vice-like grip, and whines in his throat when he comes.

Several loads of it spill onto his cotton boxers, most of it gathering along the side of his hand and dripping down his knuckles. His breath staggers as he works himself through his high, praising you through the phone like you’re the one who brought him to it. 

“Fuck, baby… You’re so good… So fucking good.”

You’ve long settled from your own orgasm, still tingly and numb in some places, but not as gone as you had been just moments before. You still float on a cloud, getting lost as you stare through your window at the half-hidden stars sprinkling the night sky and feeling as though you could reach out and touch them.

You can feel the satin moonlight bathing you, and the jittery static of the neon of the television screen. You can feel everything and somehow nothing at all. 

“I don’t know how you do it, Eds,” you confess, hardly thinking about the words spilling from your mouth when you lazily bring the phone to your ear again.

“Do what, sweetheart?”

“I don’t know… You always make me feel good. Even when you’re not here… Even when we’re not getting each other off.”

“I feel the same way,” he promises you, all mushy, even though he feels like a slob for wiping his hand off on his discarded jeans on his bed. “Just… wish you were here.”

“I wish I was there, too… Wish I could clean you up.”

Eddie’s eyes shut tight as his head tilts back to his pillow at the thought. “Fuck… You’re gonna make me hard again, sweetheart.”

You perk up suddenly as an idea sprouts like a flower in your head. A smile blooms on your lips, and you rise up onto your elbows, glowing with an unanticipated excitement. “How long would it take you to get ready?”

“…Get ready?” he echoes.

“Yeah,” is all you say.

“I mean, I— I don’t know. I figure if I put on some new underwear and a fresh pair of pants, I’ll be good as new... Why?”

“You wanna do something?” 

“Yeah. Sure. Anything,” he answers clumsily in place of saying, ‘Anything to not have to be without you.’

“I wanna go to Skull Rock.”

“Skull Rock?” he repeats. 

Legend has it, you and Steve made that place a local landmark. People have always said that Hopper caught the both of you one too many times up at Lover’s Lake and the Quarry, that you needed a more hidden place to fuck. So you’d stumbled around in the middle of the woods until you found a place the chief wouldn’t think to look for you.

You’d certainly found it. Then every other horny high schooler did too.

It’s the place you go to fuck, the most private place in all of Hawkins — hell, maybe even Indiana entirely for teenagers who can’t get the house to themselves. And as appealing as it sounds, to take you beneath a sky of twinkling stars, Eddie doesn’t want his first time with you to be on dirt or in the middle of the woods. That’s how all the horror movies start, don’t they?

So, needless to say, your answer takes him by surprise.

“Yeah! You can see all the stars really good from there. It’s too hard to see them so close to town.”

Eddie’s heart swells all at once at how sweet you are, like sugar poured directly onto his tongue. You’re not eager to be without him either, it seems, and that thought is as gratifying as it is thrilling. 

You’re an adventure he’s about to go on, without a map or a way out, a journey he’s happy to go into blind as long as you’re holding his hand the entire way through it.

It breaks his heart to hang up the phone. He practically begs you to do it for him, and it makes you laugh — a kind giggle entwined with a tease ‘you’re such a baby.’ It rings in his ears long after the receiver clicks.

Most of all, he hates all the stoplights that separate your place from his. He hadn’t known where you lived before now, not until you uttered it over the phone. He makes a mental note to figure out a quicker way, somewhere through the winding back roads that his old van can speed through to make the distance less daunting.

He pulls into your apartment complex, a quaint two-story thing on the quieter side of town, where the woods are plentiful and the street lamps far fewer. He turns his radio down out of respect for all your neighbors that he’s sure he’ll never meet and spies you through the neon orange porch lights. You shut and lock your door in quick succession, then scurry across the way to meet him.

Eddie leans over to unlock the passenger side door for you, already beaming, and finds you’re smiling too when you climb in next to him. The grin you shoot his way outshines the night sky and makes a bright yellow sun of the girl sitting in his passenger seat.

“Hi,” you’d greeted him, all shy like you didn’t just make him come all over his hand thirty minutes ago.

“Hi, sweetheart,” he volleys back like he always does, with that big ol’ smirk and teasing lilt as he cock his head to the side — using his playfulness to cover up the bashful mess you so easily reduce him too.

Neither of you had gotten particularly dressed up to see each other. All he did was put on fresh under and pajama pants. You succumbed to a smilier laziness it seems, haphazardly brushing through your half-damp hair, throwing on a too big t-shirt, and calling it a day. 

The cotton hangs low at your chest, stretched out and obviously well-loved. It falls well past your thigh, though you spend much of the drive anxiously tugging it down. 

It makes him wonder what you’re wearing beneath it. If you’ve tugged on a pair of shorts or if you’re in the bra and (undoubtedly wet) underwear you’d told him you were wearing over the phone. 

Eddie winds himself up all over again while you sift through the flimsy case of endless cassettes he keeps tucked in the glove compartment that never quite shuts all the way.

“How do you now have any ABBA tapes?” you wonder like it’s baffling, with an Iron Maiden tape in one hand and Cinderella in the other. Metallica plays lowly, nearly inaudibly, from the stereo.

Eddie laughs and darts his eyes from the darkened back roads to look at you, all smiley and bathed in moonlight, before turning back to the road again. “Uh, because I’m not a thirty-year-old woman. That’s the shit moms listen to.”

“Moms and hot girls,” you retort jokingly.

“Right, moms and hot girls listen to ABBA — of which, I am neither, sweetheart. Sorry to be the one to break it to you… Besides, it’s not like you walk around listening to, fucking, I don’t know— Van Halen or whatever.”

“Hey. I listen to Van Halen,” you shoot back.

He scoffs. “Yeah, right.”

“It’s got what it takes!” you sing suddenly, not quite catching the rhythm of the song, but smiling anyway as you reach for his forearm resting on the center console. “So tell me why can’t this be love!”

“Oh, my god— that’s literally their worst song,” Eddie chuckles through the widest grin you’ve ever seen from him. 

It makes you smile big too, looking like an idiot who’s totally head over heels for the boy next to her. And of that, you’re happily guilty of.

“Not true,” you shake your head defiantly. “I love that song.”

“So that means it has to be good, right?” he retorts playfully, shooting you a teasing look, though his beam is more than sincere.

“Obviously,” you answer with a scoff that makes Eddie roll his eyes.

He knows he’s going to start to love it, though, if only because it’s the only Van Halen song you halfway know.

He’s going to hear that song on the radio and he’s going to want to turn it, but he’s going to remember this moment now — the one with you reaching for him while you sing the lyrics to a song he can’t stand, sitting pretty in his passenger seat, while the moonlight blanches your smile and the bare skin of your thighs.

Eddie Munson is going to love that goddamn song for the rest of his life.

He parks as close as he can to Skull Rock, knowing his van can’t work its way that far into the woods. The two of you are forced to walk the rest of the way, not exactly minding it, though Eddie’s incessantly worried you’re going to get cold. 

He’s already forced his jacket upon you, which you took with little fight. It warmed you almost immediately — with his cozy heat and musky cologne.

You make mindless conversation the entire way there, about music and then about his band and then what animal you’d want to be in your band if that were the least bit possible. Eddie chooses a sheep without any hesitation, though you’re confident that a penguin would be far cooler. 

You keep a careful distance between you, at first, like both of you are too scared to initiate the first move. That is, until you trip over a raised branch and nearly eat ass on the forest floor. Then Eddie’s holding your hand the entire way, keeping you close.

“If you wanted me to hold your hand, you coulda just said so, you know?” he jokes. “Didn’t have to go through all the dramatics, sweetheart.”

You try and yank your hand out of his grip in protest then, but he doesn’t let you. In fact, he pulls you closer and twirls you into a bear hug that you happily relax into.

He feels your sigh fan against his collarbone as you rest your head at the nape of his neck, his arms wrap around your shoulders as yours settle at his waist. He rocks you back in forth, in a moment that’s too almost sweet to make fun of.

Eddie finds a way, of course, “See?” he singsongs. “I’ll hug you like this all the time, if you want. You don’t have to almost kill yourself to get my attention, babe.”

“All I did was trip,” you laugh at his theatrics.

“Death by tree root… What a gnarly way to go.”

He holds your hand the entire way to Skull Rock. 

He doesn’t let you go once, not until you’re ascending the large boulders to plant yourselves at the very peak of them. He’s grabbing you again once you settle, though, and the two of you just sit there, for several long moments, just gaping at the stars that dance with life above you. They sprinkle an infinite void with enough light that manages to touch you, trillions of miles away.

There’s a subtle beauty in that Eddie never would’ve appreciated before now.

“Shit, babe,” he breathes through a whimsical existential dread. “You were right. The stars are really fucking pretty out here.” 

You love how much he loves this, to come to Skull Rock with you and count the stars. Any other guy would’ve had their tongue down your throat by now, stuffing your hand down their unbuttoned jeans.

But not Eddie.

He just holds your hand because he likes the feeling of his fingers entwined with yours, grasping tightly onto you while he gazes at an infinite universe — like you might float off right along with it.

His neck is stretched to gape at the night sky. You catch his adam’s apple bobbing every time he swallows. You want so desperately to kiss his milky white skin and sprinkle blotchy red bruises there.

His curly locks fall over his shoulders. He shakes his head to get his bangs out of his eyes while the chocolate buttons of them dart around the endless void.

He’s more beautiful than every star in the sky combined. You can’t be sure of how many that is, of course, but it’s a whole bunch if you had to guess. It makes sense, though, for the prettiest boy in the whole damn galaxy.

“Told ya,” you answer with a smile, leaning over to nudge his shoulder with yours. “You come out here often?”

You’re asking if he takes girls here and he knows it, but it’s not like you’re being inconspicuous about the whole thing. Eddie gauges it almost immediately, the subtle jealousy hinting at your tone — something no one else would’ve caught — and he squeezes your hand in reassurance.

He shakes his head. “No… Never.”

“Never?” you press with raised brows, like his answer shocks you.

“Ever. It’s not really my scene, I guess… But what about you, sweetheart? Never seen you around these parts before.”

You knock his shoulder again, harder this time.  “Shut up. You already know the answer to that.”

“Yeah…” he nods to himself, eyes darting back and forth as he reminisces on something. “You and Harrington, you and Hargrove. Hell, I think I heard about you and Jason one time—”

“That was a long time ago,” you argue. “Before I even knew you, okay?”

“I’m just saying,” he shrugs in defense. “You totally have a thing for pretty boys, sweetheart.”

“I never said I didn’t, Eds. Just that you were pretty, too.”

“Whatever,” he scoffs and rolls his eyes like he isn’t glowing red beneath the moonlight.

“You’re better than all three of them, Eds,” you confess with a sudden softness that catches his attention almost immediately. He turns his attention from the sky to look at you properly again. His breath catches at you sad you look — all beautiful and coated in shades of blue.

“…Yeah?”

You nod and drag his hand into your lap to fidget with his fingers. You trace the skeleton heart on his middle finger, subverting all your attention there because it’s easier than having to look at him now. “Better than all of them combined— not even just them, you know? Out of everyone. No one’s ever been this nice to be before.”

“Me neither, sweetheart,” he confesses with a morose grin. “The freak of Hawkins High attracts a lot of assholes, believe it or not.”

“Is it bad?” you wonder cautiously, like you’re scared to hear the answer. In some ways, you are. 

You hadn’t known him in high school, not really. For obvious reasons, you ran in very different circles. You never even had classes together. There was never any excuse to be close to each other before now, never a reason to become friends. So you didn’t.

You grew to know him as a freak, and he knew you as the town slut. Then somewhere down the line, he became your dealer and now… here you were. 

But you’ve graduated now and he’s still army crawling towards a diploma. You couldn’t save him from the hell of Hawkins High even if you wanted to.

“Nothing I can’t handle,” he shrugs. “Jason and the dick brigade just wanna make my life hell, that’s all.”

“I hope they aren’t,” you respond shyly.

Eddie scoffs then shoots you a smile. “Oh, of course not. Look at me. I’m at Skull Rock with the most wanted girl in Hawkins. I’m living the dream, sweetheart.”

“So you don’t care?” you wonder, peering at him through your lashes, as you twist the silver cross around his finger.

“Care about what?” 

“That I’m a slut,” you laugh like it’s obvious.

Eddie doesn’t think it’s all that funny. “Don’t say that.”

“It’s not like it isn’t true, Eds,” you retort with a trembling smile. “I mean, that’s literally what people call me — most people don’t even care to call me by my real name anymore.”

“I don’t care,” Eddie shakes his head. “I don’t care about that. I don’t give a shit about what people say about you. If everyone cared about what everyone said about everyone, neither of us would be here right now… Because you’d think I was some devil-worshipping freak and I’d think you were too busy getting it on with Chief Hopper.”

You screw your face up immediately at the thought. The mere idea was repulsive. The asshole was practically your father these days. Jim Hopper was in that small bunch of available people you would never fuck, and happily so. 

“I’d never stoop that low,” you joke.

“I like you, how you are, right now,” Eddie promises. “Don’t want you to change a damn thing.” 

His brown eyes twinkle with a sincerity that rivals the stars above you. All of a sudden, you don’t care about a bunch of heavenly bodies light years away from you — you care about this man, the one sitting beside you now, holding your hand even though your palms have gone all sweaty.

It’s too good to be true — the way you looks at you, the way he talks to you, the way he treats you. You’re scared that it’s a dream, that you’ll wake up and find that none of this was ever real. Or worse, that he was, and that he just didn’t care about you the way you cared about him.

It’s almost irrational. Almost. 

But it’s happened before. 

And it’s left you a scarred and mangled mess.

You shake your head to yourself and scrunch your face as you turn to look him. “Have you ever done this before, Eddie?”

“Don’t what?” he wonders with furrowed brows.

“I don’t know…” you shrug. “Any of this? With anyone else?”

He’s grateful he doesn’t have to lie. Or tell some clumsy half-truth for the sake of saving his own skin. He realizes tonight is perhaps the most honest he’s ever been with you, baring his pale soul beneath a silver moonlight. 

“Never,” he answers, unwavering, with a firm shake of his head.

“Really?”

“Really,” he nods, then swallows thickly at a gut-wrenching realization. “I’ve never felt his way about anyone else before.’

“Me neither,” you promise. 

It’s a tad more meaningful coming from you than from a boy who’s never had someone to love and to love him back.

You’re experienced, you’ve found what you like and what you don’t like. You’ve been with guys who have given you the world and guys that have ended yours altogether. And out of all of them — all of the assholes in Hawkins you could’ve picked — you’ve chosen the freak. 

You want him. 

You want Eddie.

The revelation makes him grin. “Promise?”

“Cross my heart, Eddie Spaghetti.”

#published by bug #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #stranger things x reader #stranger things imagine #eddie munson imagine #virgin!eddie munson x reader #virgin!eddie munson

[perotovar]

baby, i'm-a want you — (ch 1) "session one"

gif by me

pairing: joel miller/dieter bravo (just this time. main pairing is still javi/joel) rating: E (18+) mdni word count: 3.5k content: swearing, joel and tommy's southern accents being cute af, dieter being a menace, joel being awkward af (but it's cute), cringey porn dialogue, male masturbation (briefly), one (1) handjob, one (1) blowjob (it's messy), lmk if i missed anything! dividers: @saradika-graphics beta: @qveerthe0ry (ily ♥)

summary: javier peña has been doing this a long time. he's really good at his job. joel miller? not so much. he started doing this to get some extra cash to support his daughters. what happens when they're supposed to do a scene together? aka, the au where most of the ppcu boys are gay porn stars~

(read this first ->) prologue | series masterlist

Joel never would have guessed he’d do something like this ten years ago. Hell, not even five years ago. He’s not even totally sure how he got here, if he’s honest with himself.

He just remembers an, admittedly shady, business-looking man coming up to him and shoving a business card in his face. He asked if Joel had ever slept with men before. Joel was taken aback and thought he was coming onto him in a really bizarre way. He had, but that was none of this man’s business as far as he was concerned.

“There’s no pressure, I promise. Here, my website is on the card. If you see what you like, you gimme a call, okay?” The man had winked, grabbed his coffee, and left. 

Joel was left sitting in the middle of that coffee shop stunned into silence.

Later that night, sitting in front of the laptop Sarah nearly forced on him, he clumsily typed (using only his index fingers) the name of the website from the business card into the search bar.

Love Bites

The name and the man, Max Phillips according to the card, and his invasive question should’ve told him everything he needed to know, but Joel wasn’t prepared for the absolute onslaught of nudity he was met with.

“Jesus–” Joel mumbled to himself, slamming the laptop closed. Not that that would take it away, but he could hope. He sighed and looked up at the ceiling, shaking his head to himself. “The fuck you get yourself into, Miller?” He grumbled.

Slowly, and with one eye closed, he opened his laptop again. Once he got both eyes on it again, the website wasn’t… too bad. Well, it was still a porn site, but it wasn’t anything he hadn't seen before. He started looking around some more and didn’t bother turning it down. He lived alone now, both girls having moved out within the last year or so. He missed the hell out of them, and frankly, found himself bored more often than not. He and Tommy still owned Miller Contracting, but Joel stuck to the delegating and organizing part now. He had too many knee and back problems to keep up on the actual building part.

His finger rolled over to the “profiles” section of the website. He raised a brow and clicked on the trackpad hesitantly. There were several headshots of the men that made content for the website. He felt his cock twitch in his jeans and cleared his throat awkwardly, exhaling heavily. Well, it… had been a while. What could it hurt, right? 

He did have a lot of options…

Dark eyes trailing over the men on the site, he smiled softly. They all had little biographies that explained what their sexualities and preferences were. He snorted a little at seeing two different cowboys; one gay and a little older than himself, the other bisexual and perhaps around the same age. The younger cowboy had a prominent mustache and had a preference for “tying people up”. Bit on the nose in Joel’s opinion, but there was something for everyone. The older cowboy tended toward more amateur-style, “romantic” videos. Joel’s heart softened a little, but decided he wasn’t really in the mood for that sort of thing. 

In his search, he found just about everything; a messy haired, self proclaimed “adventurous” sort, a masked man that liked to roleplay, a clean cut looking man that considered himself a “romantic”. You name it, they probably had it. But his eyes landed on a particular man…

He had deep, intense eyes and a thick mustache. His hair was styled like he walked out of the 80s and he was wearing a thin gold chain. He had a bit of a Burt Reynolds thing going on, and normally that wouldn’t be something Joel was into, but this time, well… 

Joel clicked on his – Javier’s – page and started browsing the videos he had available. His bio said he was “fluid and polyamorous”, but Joel didn’t know what that meant. Wow, he was… popular. That didn’t surprise Joel at all, but his eyes landed on one of Javier’s “solo” videos. It looked like it was filmed in his apartment, but it probably wasn’t from how well lit it was. The video started off like Joel guessed all of them did; a fancy graphic with the words “Love Bites” in the center of the screen before the sound effect of someone taking a bite out of something, and a faint moan. The tips of Joel’s ears warmed, but he pressed on, watching Javier walk onto screen and sit in the middle of the couch that was in frame. 

Javier’s jeans were very tight, but maybe even moreso because of how fucking hard he looked to be. Joel swallowed a lump in his throat, his cock twitching again. Javier had an easy smirk on his handsome face, but he seemed like he didn’t have the cockiness that Joel expected a pornstar to have. The video seemed like it was personally sent to Joel and that thought made Joel’s cock stand to attention almost comically quickly. Unzipping his own jeans, he groaned at the constriction leaving, allowing him to breathe easier. He squeezed his cock and looked back at the video, Javier already getting started without him. He was stroking his own cock slowly, almost teasingly, biting a plump bottom lip. Joel moaned and shut his eyes for a quick second as he took himself in hand–

Ring, ring.

Joel groaned, squeezing his cock harder, and dug his phone out of his pocket. Tommy. He sighed and paused the video on Javier’s blissed out face and big hand wrapped around his–

Ring, ring.

“Christ, Tommy, what is it?” He grumbled, pressing the too-new-for-his-liking phone to his ear.

“Jesus, who pissed in your oatmeal this mornin’?” Tommy’s easy voice filtered in, a chuckle wrapped around his words. “And why are ya outta breath? Ya okay?”

“What–? Yeah, ‘m fine, Tommy. Why y’callin’?”

“Wonderin’ if ya could stop by tonight. Maria’s makin’ meatloaf and I know ya like it.”

Joel did really like Maria’s meatloaf. He sighed to himself and shut his laptop, his cock having softened considerably since hearing his brother’s voice. “Yeah,” he cleared his throat, trying to subtly zip up his jeans while he held the phone against his shoulder. “I’ll come over in a little bit, just gotta… gonna make a phone call.”

“Ooh, ya finally have a date, old man?”

“Can it,” Joel grunted. “‘M forty-three. Ain’t that old. And no, I was gonna call Sarah. See how her classes are goin’.”

“Send her our love, will ya? ‘N tell her she’ll have a cousin soon. Maria’s ‘bout to pop any day. ‘M scared to death,” Tommy sighed. The happiness was clear in his voice, though. Joel was happy for him, and smiled to himself. “How’s Ellie doin’, by the way?”

“Good. Think she said somethin’ ‘bout joinin’ a… roller derby team? Don’t rightly know, but,” he shrugged to himself. “Sounded like somethin’ she’d like, way she was describin’ it.”

Talking on the phone with Tommy always went the same way. He’d find a way to chew up a couple hours of your time, but Joel never minded. Once they said their goodbyes and their I-love-yous, Joel picked up Max Phillips’ business card and sighed, rubbing his thumb over the phone number.

What could it hurt, right?

That was two years ago. He’s been working for Love Bites for two years and had been avoiding Javier Peña as much as he could.

Joel’s never been good at… initiating conversations. Ellie would always give him shit for it. She usually went up to whoever had caught Joel’s eye and slyly made it her goal to get them to come over to him. 

But Ellie wasn’t here and she never would be. His girls knew what he did and even if they were a little concerned for him at first, they saw how much happier he’d been since joining. He was healthier, gaining a bit of “chub” as Sarah called it, and a healthier glow to his skin. He was on camera more often now, so he had to eat well and work out a little more. He didn’t do anything too crazy, and the audience that watched his videos had a lot of positive opinions and comments about his physique. It made him blush to think about it for too long, so he tried not to.

What was he saying?

Oh, right. Avoiding Javier Peña.

He’d had a huge crush on him ever since that first video he watched, and frankly, didn’t want to make a fool of himself if he talked to him. He’s filmed one video with him and it was the best Joel had felt in years. He almost came too quickly, and the video was supposed to be twenty minutes long. They had to pause so Joel could calm himself down, but Javier was patient and lovely with him. Javier had been doing this a lot longer than Joel had, so he wasn’t worried, which made Joel feel better. Just a little embarrassed. Afterwards, he had to leave, making up a story about seeing his girls for dinner that night.

“Javi!”

Joel’s eyes snapped up from his phone. He was in the middle of texting Sarah, saying that he’d call her when he got home from work. He had a scene with Dieter today.

And there he was. God. Joel’s cheeks flushed at the sight of Javier standing in the hall in his robe. He must’ve just finished his scene with Shane, the new kid. He couldn’t hear what he was saying, but the sound of Javier’s deep, commanding voice was enough to send a chill down Joel’s spine. Before he knew it, Javier was talking animatedly with Steve, another actor, as they walked off down the hall and disappearing around a corner.

He knew, realistically, relationships between porn actors could happen. Silva and Jake had been together for years. Joel’s problem with that was, well… Joel. His last real relationship was with Sarah’s mom years ago, and when the girls were in high school he had a relationship with this guy, Ezra for a while.

Smack!

“Jesus–!” Joel jumped, holding onto one of his ass cheeks protectively. Only one person would have done that.

“Hey, handsome,” Dieter grinned, sticking a hand down the back pocket of Joel’s jeans and squeezing. “Getting lost in Javi’s eyes again?” He winked.

“N-no! I am not,” Joel grumbled, finishing off his text and shoving his phone in his pocket.

Dieter snorted and rolled his eyes, then removed his hand to hold it out for Joel to take. “C’mon, big guy. You get to cum on my face today,” he smirked.

Filming with Dieter always felt good. He was a bit wild for Joel’s personal tastes, but he always made sure Joel was comfortable, and today was no different. 

Joel was playing a “plumber” that needed to work on Dieter’s “pipes”. This of course led to Dieter offering to “pay” in his own way. 

“Oh, come on, big guy like you doesn’t need money, right?” Dieter recited his lines expertly, running a hand down Joel’s t-shirt covered chest. “Bet it gets lonely doing this sort of work, huh?”

Joel had gotten a lot better at the acting part of things over the past couple of years. He was super stiff (and not in the right way) in the beginning, but now, he easily plastered on a smirk, eyes glued to Dieter’s lips. “Sometimes,” he shrugged, a big hand hovering over Dieter’s shoulder. Dieter saw the hand out of the corner of his eye and grinned, curling his fingers around Joel’s thick wrist and moving it down to his ass.

Joel smirked, squeezing the plump flesh appreciatively. “Bit forward o’ you,” he rumbled.

Dieter visibly shivered and bit his lip. “Sexy guy like you, of course I am,” he breathed. He leaned forward and kissed Joel messily, the hand on Joel’s torso moving down to unzip his jeans. Joel was already painfully hard and grunted into Dieter’s mouth when his pants were opened and lowered enough to pull his cock free. Dieter moaned and curled his fingers around Joel’s shaft, pumping rhythmically.

They stayed like that for a while; open mouth kisses, heavy breathing from Joel, and Dieter’s moans being picked up by the mics. 

Dieter pulled away to look down at the thick cock in his hand and bit his lip at the sight. “Fuck,” he groaned, his own cock twitching in his sweats. “Can I suck your cock?” He looked up at Joel demurely, eyes big and nearly black with desire.

Joel forgot he was supposed to be acting for a minute and grunted, hips bucking into Dieter’s grasp. “F-fuck, yeah,” he nodded, eyes glazed over. Dieter smiled and guided Joel over to the couch on the set. Technically, Dieter was supposed to get on his knees in the “kitchen”, but he knew Joel wouldn’t be able to stand for that long with his back problems. Sometimes Dieter’s improv classes came in handy. Max couldn’t complain too much, as long as Dieter sucked Joel off, then the video was still following the script.

Joel grunted as he sat, hard cock swaying slightly. Dieter giggled a little and happily got down on his knees, hands traveling up and down Joel’s thighs appreciatively. “Such a pretty cock,” he hummed, licking his lips as he watched it twitch in front of him, a drop of pre-cum gathering at the tip. 

“Why dontcha put that mouth to use, then?” Joel smirked, gripping the base and tapping the head against Dieter’s cheek. “Want your discount, right?”

Dieter smiled and opened his mouth wide, eyes shut in pure bliss. Joel gripped Dieter’s messy curls and held him still as he hit the head of his cock against Dieter’s tongue. Dieter moaned and opened his eyes, watching Joel’s face for any cues to stop. They never came, but it was something they all had to keep an eye on. When everything seemed to be going well, he happily wrapped his mouth around the head of Joel’s cock and started bobbing his head up and down.

He moaned, the vibrations traveling down Joel’s cock and up his spine, making Joel groan in return. “Mmm, knew you’d be good with your mouth,” he grinned, holding the back of Dieter’s head to set a pace Joel liked better.

Dieter heard a cameraman move to his right to get a better angle of his mouth, so he amped it up a little. He got messier, saliva dripping down along the sides of Joel’s shaft. Joel moaned weakly, resting his head on the back of the couch, but keeping one of his hands tangled in Dieter’s messy curls. Dieter started bobbing his head slower, eyes locked on Joel’s face as he moved further down his shaft, taking as much as he could down his throat. He choked slightly and pulled off, pre-cum and saliva covering his mouth and Joel’s cock. He smiled up at Joel and panted heavily, curling his fingers around the base to pump the thick cock.

Joel’s eyes rolled back and he grunted, hips bucking off the couch. “C’mere,” he breathed, heavy work boots landing heavily on the set floor as he stood. “Gonna fuck your face.”

Dieter shivered at the low timbre of Joel’s voice and nodded happily up at him. He pulled his sweats down and gripped his own cock in hand and started stroking himself rhythmically. Dieter opened his mouth for Joel obediently and nearly choked again when Joel shoved his cock down Dieter’s throat. He moaned weakly when Joel’s hips started moving, his heavy balls slapping against Dieter’s chin.

Dieter just had to take it, the lewd sounds of Joel fucking his face filling the otherwise quiet room. He fucking loved it because Joel was subtly massaging Dieter’s scalp and it sent shivers down his spine. His fist was almost a blur over his own cock and tears leaked out of his eyes, a blush high on his cheeks.

“Mmm, bein’ such a good boy f’me,” Joel grunted, biting his lip to rein it in a little. Dieter moaned at the praise, eyebrows downturned in pleasure. “Yeah? Like bein’ my good boy?”

Dieter whined and nodded as best he could, eyes completely glazed over. Joel slowed down his hips a little and let Dieter breathe for a minute. Dieter panted hard, a near-dopey smile on his face. “Come on my face,” he breathed heavily, extending his tongue for Joel. “Please.”

It was Joel’s turn to shiver as he slapped the head of his cock against Dieter’s face again. “Gonna have to earn it,” Joel smirked, reciting his lines as well as he could. 

Dieter whined and pouted up at him, his own hand slowing down a little. He didn’t say anything, letting Joel continue.

“Make me come, and I’ll paint this pretty face o’ yours.”

Dieter’s face lit up and he curled his fingers around Joel’s shaft. He watched Joel’s face while he wrapped his lips around the head and bobbed his head. His free hand held Joel’s hip and subtly moved to his ass and squeezed. He moaned around Joel’s cock and shut his eyes briefly before obediently looking up at him, big eyes wet and innocent. 

“Atta boy,” Joel grunted, cupping Dieter’s face lovingly. Dieter removed his mouth to kiss down his length as he stroked him, attaching his lips to one of Joel’s balls. “Mmm, fuck,” Joel breathed, tipping his head back. 

The hand on Joel’s ass moved slightly until one of Dieter’s fingertips prodded at Joel’s asshole. Joel grunted in surprise and smiled down at Dieter. “Really want me all over ya, huh?”

“Yes,” Dieter nodded, sucking one of Joel’s balls into his mouth. “Please.”

“Keep talkin’ like that and– ooh, fuck – Jus’ might get your wish,” Joel panted, shutting his eyes. He felt the build up in his lower stomach, his cock twitching violently in Dieter’s hand. “C’mere, baby boy,” he grinned, taking his cock back to stroke himself over Dieter’s face.

Dieter was buzzing, lifting Joel’s t-shirt to lovingly caress his hairy tummy, mouth open wide and obedient. 

Joel felt his balls draw up and his hips buck until– “Fuck–! Shit,” He moaned, thick ropes of come spurting out from the tip of his cock and landing on Dieter’s face and mouth. He caressed Dieter’s hair, thick fingers massaging his scalp while the other hand stroked himself until his balls were completely empty. 

Dieter happily licked his mouth clean, and hid his face in Joel’s stomach, whimpering into the sweaty skin. He moaned weakly, his entire body trembling as he came, completely untouched. Dieter was the only one in the cast that could do that, and he loved showing it off as much as he could.

“Shit,” Joel smiled, petting Dieter’s sweaty curls back and out of his face. “Ain’t you a sight.”

“Cut!”

Dieter deflated, a huge grin on his face. He started giggling into Joel’s stomach and smiled up at him. “Fucking love your cock, Joel,” he hummed happily.

“That’s what you always say,” Joel snorted, helping him up onto his feet. Dieter was a little wobbly still and cuddled into Joel’s side. He always got a little clingy after a scene, but Joel didn’t mind. As different as they were, Joel would probably consider Dieter one of his closest friends. It always worked in their favor, their natural chemistry and closeness coming through the cameras.

They were handed a couple towels and some water, the both of them taking them gratefully. Max came up to them, his usual shit-eating grin on his face. Joel always thought Max reminded him of a vampire, with that mischievous glint in his eye that always seemed to be there.

“Great show, boys,” Max started. “Dieter, d’you mind if I steal Joel away for a second?”

Dieter whined and clinged onto Joel tighter. Joel grinned and hugged him back. “Sorry, boss, looks like he ain’t leavin’ anytime soon.”

Max rolled his eyes, but continued anyway. “Fine. Meant to tell you earlier, but things got rolling, you know how it is–”

“What is it, Max?”

“You’ve got a scene with Javier tomorrow.”

If there were a record player anywhere, Joel would probably hear it scratching right about now. Dieter paused too, and looked up at Joel with worried eyes. He knew all about Joel’s crush, and was always telling Joel to just go for it. Joel froze briefly, but tried to school his emotions as best he could.

“O-okay, um. What time?” He asked shakily, gripping Dieter’s fluffy robe tighter.

“I’m thinking around noon? That way Javier can prepare, y’know?”

Preparing was always done before a particularly intense scene. Joel tried really hard not to think about Javier wearing a plug for a while before coming to set. 

“Right,” Joel nodded, cheeks going a little pink. “I’ll be there.”

“You’re the best, Joel!” Max snapped his fingers and walked off, talking to a couple of assistants. 

Dieter tapped on his chest and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. “You really gotta say something, Joel,” he said softly. 

Joel sighed and nodded. He knew that. 

He just didn’t know what.

#joel miller #dieter bravo #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller smut #joel miller series #dieter bravo fanfiction #dieter bravo fic #dieter bravo smut #dieter bravo series #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal cinematic universe #ppcu fanfiction #oaksfics

[velvetcloxds]

if you're too shy- send me a character and a scenario and I'll write a little baby blurb for it

Enemies to lovers kinda thing where reader or spencer admits feelings accidentally, like a slip of tongue maybe.

I'LL KEEP YOU WARM | S.R.

word count: 1.6k (stop)

warnings: one-bed trope, fem!reader- also I didn't literally have them say ily but he does admit to not hating the reader and in fact caring for the reader which is basically ily in enemies to lovers

You had spent nearly an hour next to Spencer considering the very creative and unprofessional things you’d planned to text Penelope in the morning once you could charge your phone on the jet, all of which would surely be forgotten in the morning, but it was a very good distraction from your current situation. You and Penelope had a general disagreement about the status of your relationship with Spencer Reid, your partner for the last few months. You were sure without a single doubt that he absolutely hated you, Penelope believed that what felt like hate was really pent-up tension that needed to be released- by putting the two of you together in one room with only one bed, she had clearly decided it was time for the tension to be released.

You were lucky the case had taken so much out of the team, neither of you thinking too much of the little double bed you were stuck in, just skipping through the shower and crawling under the questionable sheets. Spencer was asleep by the time you got into bed, and you were quite grateful he didn’t have to witness the sight of you shivering in the skimpy Bambi pajamas that should’ve been thrown away ages ago. How were you to know on the night you’d be there it would all of a sudden be cold? Basically, the sleeping arrangement wasn’t all that encouraging to sleep, you were cold, in the bed with someone you found alarmingly attractive that just so happened to hate you, and being in said bed with him meant you had to leave your comfort stuffed animal in your go bag.

You were careful when you rolled over, knowing you’d be much closer to Spencer than you should be, balled up still, holding an extra pillow against your chest and the neon sign just across the street made for good lighting in the supposed to be dark room. He was much prettier like this, you decided, quiet and unconscious, perfect to look at without being met with some dismissing comment or gesture that you’d replay for the rest of the day. Like this you could appreciate the little dimple that dipped right beside his lips even when he wasn’t smiling, or the little beauty marks you wouldn’t see if you weren’t looking for them, or the fact that his hair smelled like pomegranate- you were always sure it was something fruity, never sure which fruit but now you knew, you’d think about him every time you smelled pomegranate.

Your head dipped further into the pillow when he moved, sighed as if something interesting was happening in his head even asleep, of course it would, his hair fell over his eyes, and you had to clutch the pillow tighter to stop yourself from reaching forward and moving the hair away from distorting your view. You wondered as you wondered before what had made him so very set in his distain for you, you’d been very encouraging of all his quirks and habits, in fact you thought they accommodated your own surprisingly well. Yet he’s been acting a proper nightmare since Hotch reassigned the two of you to the same car, as if all of a sudden, your very existence was a thorn in his side and you wished you could remove yourself for his sake but Hotch was adamantly against the paperwork of it all.

“Why do you hate me, Spencer Reid?” you sighed, the question too quiet for even you to hear but you had to put it out there for even a second, shifting into the little cocoon you’d created by tucking the blanket under your bum and around your feet, but you were interrupted. Spencer was still moving, another sigh, much less dreamy this time as he tried to tug on the blanket, probably just as cold as you were, one more tug and you realized he was trying to pull it away from where it was tucked under you, his eyes opened with a disgruntled question.

“Y/n?” it sounded like a mixture of surprise and realization, like he’d somehow forgotten you were there in the first place, or like he’d assumed you’d find some other sleeping arrangements after your shower- you’d tried, Emily wasn’t fond of sharing or rather wasn’t fond of kicking you off the bed through the night and JJ was stuck in a single bed, not like you’d ask Derek or Hotch though the thought had definitely crossed your mind.

“Sorry,” you whispered almost on instinct, moving forward completely accidentally and his tired gaze focussed instantly. “Sorry,” you whispered again, and when you allowed him to take more of the blanket his hand brushed over your shoulder. The shiver it created was both due to the sudden touch and the sudden warmth. “Sorry,” you tried to move back, save him from the cold of your skin.

“You’re freezing,” he noted, and you wanted to explain yourself, apologetic even for your own disdain of the weather but he didn’t give you much time, gently stealing the pillow from your grip and chucking it across the room, silencing your indistinct questions by pulling you against him. “I was waiting for you to get out of the shower and I must've fallen asleep," he explained, and you didn’t know what to do with yourself when he gently guided your head to rest against his chest, on his pillow, in fact, you were sure this was some sleep-deprived hallucination that you’d have to scorn yourself for conjuring. “I assumed that you hadn’t packed for the cold even though I always tell you to.”

“It was supposed to be sunny,” you argued, and he scoffed a soft sound, you felt it against your ear, and you didn’t know what to do about that either. He dragged a finger up your arm, flicked the frilly pink sleeve of your shirt, and shook his head, you felt that too. In fact, you could feel him breathing, could feel his pulse right through his long-sleeved shirt.

“I told you it wouldn’t be,” he fought, and you had to see him, couldn’t let him scorn you with your face buried between his pecks, so you tilted your head back, trying to ignore that it forced your bodies to shift closer somehow.

“And you know more than the weathermen now?” he shrugged, and the roll of your eyes was the closest you’d ever come to taking him on for his attitude towards you, it was also his signal that you were done so he tightened his hold, fighting a smirk when you didn’t fight him. He was warm, impossibly warm considering the room, you wished you could steal every ounce of warmth right from him, and the hand that slid up his arm under his sleeve to wrap around his wrist had a mind of its own and you’d be embarrassed were you not so desperate. “Sorry,” you realized but he stopped you before you could pull away, fingers circling your arm to keep you still.

“Stop apologizing,” his tone was odd, you couldn’t read it, you could rarely read him to begin with but enough to know just how far to stay away from him that day, but this was new, rushed, forced, like he didn’t think it through which isn’t a characteristic the man holds. “I don’t mind, I don’t want you to be cold,” he explained and he made it sound just as logical as one of the little facts he’d share with the team, as if cuddling someone you disliked was entirely logical as well.

“Why not?”

“What do you mean, why not? Why would I want you to be cold?” why on earth was that such a silly thing to expect of him, you shrugged, you didn’t know what to say, like you’d ever for a second considered that the man cared enough to even think about what you feel let alone care about how you feel. “I don’t want you to be cold,” he was softer when he repeated it and the grip he had turned to something so soft there wasn’t even a word for it, like he’d realized what he was doing and in a second it became less about keeping you warm and more just about keeping you in his arms. “I care about you, why wouldn’t I care about you being cold,” Your thumb brushed up and down his skin, too comfortable.

“You care about me?”  he’d never admit to anyone, let alone himself how much it pained him to hear the surprise in your voice, the genuine disbelieve you’d feel towards such a simple statement, such an obvious declaration, you were his partner, his teammate, his friend, his- well you were someone he cared about, and he’d made a proper mess of things if you thought otherwise.

“Well, I sure as hell don’t hate you,” you bit your lip, of course he’d heard that, even in his sleep he’s a proper pain in the behind, hear all, know all. “It’s late,” he decided even though he had no clue of what the time was, he just couldn’t talk about this anymore. “We’ve had a long day, you should get some sleep.”

“Spencer." Why you wanted to explain yourself you didn’t know, it’s not like he hadn’t given you copious amounts of evidence proving he disliked you, so why would he expect you'd thought he felt anything else. “I’m sorry,” he scoffed, squeezing you lightly.

“Stop apologizing to me,” his chin rested on the top of your head, the most foreign feeling yet it came so naturally to him, just like leaning into him felt natural to you, like your bodies knew what to do when your minds didn’t. “Get some sleep,” he relished in the feeling of you melting into him, like he was giving you permission to do so. “I’ll keep you warm,” and he did, even when he’d convinced himself to fall asleep, he was sure to keep an arm around you in whatever position you’d shifted to, to keep you warm, only to keep you warm- even when the sun came up, even when the cold fled the room. In the morning he’d wonder when the cold had fled from his heart.  

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x yn #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid blurb #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #monique's writing events #monique's event days #right where queue left me

[rogersideup]

｡°✩ ♊︎ The Gemini♊︎ ✩ °｡

Chapter 5:

Rearview

Series Masterlist

Previous part: Pink Peonies Next Part: Little Birdie

Word Count: 6,610

Warnings: My blog is 18+ only. All minors or blogs without an age in bio will be blocked. Minors DNI. Mentions and descriptions of sexual acts, anxiety, and sever depression.

Gentle knocks barely caught Bucky's attention from his spot on the couch in his apartment. All the lights were off, and it was quickly nearing bedtime as a show played a little louder than it probably should.

He thought he was hearing things until it happened again, this time he got up and looked through the peephole in his front door. To his surprise you were standing there.

The door swung open with a sense of urgency and Bucky on the other side. His eyes were immediately soft and concerned, his posture relaxed as he leaned onto the doorframe.

"Bug, what happened to you?" He questioned sounding sounding worried as he took in your appearance.

Comfortable work out shorts and a hoodie was pretty much all you wore during your time off of work in the building that always seemed to be air conditioned to a temperature a few degrees below your comfortability, but this time your hair was thrown up in a messy bun, your cheeks pink and your eyes and nose red, but the main point of concern was your arm in a sling.

Bucky had been way better at respecting your boundaries and giving you the space you needed to heal more than anyone else in your life at the moment, and right now, you just really needed a friend. You had some reluctant confidence that he would be willing to listen to you, maybe even give you a hug if you were lucky, and you were also reluctantly confident in your ability to forgive him at this point.

"Hey, I'm really sorry to bother you but I was just hoping you had a few minutes to talk about what happened today?" You pitched.

Bucky was admittedly taken back by your appearance. Your mental health was taking a toll on you, and it was becoming evident. Even since he last saw you a week ago at your evaluation, you looked sadder, frailer, and smaller.

His hand latched onto the upper arm that wasn't in a sling and he gave it a gentle squeeze as he stepped into the hallway, letting his door close behind him.

"Tell me about it" he nodded.

"Um, Harvey yanked my arm back and trapped me against the wall in the hallway earlier today. He dislocated my shoulder" You admitted with a big deep breath, really trying to keep your composure. "I went to the med bay, they popped it back in place but suggested I rest it and take it easy for a few days, hence the sling."

"Oh you poor thing, that sounds painful." Bucky's eyebrows furrowed. "Are you okay?"

You let out a sad chuckle. "No, I'm not." The admission slipped past your lips for the first time ever.

"M'sorry" Bucky sunk into himself.

"Right after it happened I went to training with Steve, it didn't go well." You explained. "He got mad that I was late, and he really wasn't interested in hearing about what made me late or why I was clutching my shoulder and crying. He grabbed my arms and pulled them behind my back then tied my wrists together. The doctor thinks it wasn't completely dislocated until I had to get myself out of the rope. He gave me pain killers and a pretty strong dose of Xanax to calm me down from the panic attack I was having because of him."

"Steve did that to you?" Bucky questioned quietly in disbelief. "I can't believe he did that."

"I don't think he meant to, but whether it was his intention or not, it happened and the bridge has been burned." You gently nodded. "I couldn't believe it either."

"I don't know what to say." Bucky shook his head sadly.

It was evident that Bucky was stuck between a rock and a hard place in this situation. He kept doing what he thought was right, but he still felt immense guilt that his friends were hurting as a result of it.

"You don't need to say anything." You reassured him. "Rogers made it clear that he's not my boss anymore, and Commander Bennett is sleeping so I figured you'd be next in line as a higher up to make informed that I can't report for duty for a minimum of 24 hours because I'm under the influence of benzodiazepines. It's noted in my medical chart."

"Okay, you rest up and I'll make sure to tell him in the morning." Bucky noted. "How are you feeling right now?"

"A little out of it, but the pain isn't nearly as bad so that's all I could've ever hoped for."

"Mental or physical?"

"Both." You admitted. "I'm sure I'll be feeling a lot worse tomorrow, but I'll leave that to be a problem for myself in the future."

"Steve mentioned to me that you quit the rest of training with him, is this why?" Bucky questioned hesitantly.

"Yeah, it is." You sadly confessed. "Ever since the initial fight, seeing him every day has been pretty hard. After today I realized I really need to prioritize my health before being a good agent. I can't go out and fight on a battlefield if I can barely get out of bed anymore. Plus with my shoulder I can't do strenuous physical activity for a week, and after that there would only be one more week of training left so it would be pretty useless."

"Prioritizing your health is important to being a good agent." Bucky reminded you. "Although it makes me sad to hear, I hope you know I'm proud of you for sticking up for yourself to anyone that's causing you pain."

"Thanks." You crossed your arm close to your body, chickening out on the conversation you initially came for.

You weren't stupid, you knew there was a reason why he wasn't inviting you into his place, and that reason was either Natasha or Steve. Either way, you didn't want to interrupt.

An awkward silence fell over the two of you, and it made your skin crawl. Both of you were far too wrapped up in your own heads just trying to find the right thing to say to each other, but the words never appeared, so you put an end to it.

"oh...and uh thanks for handling Commander Bennett in the morning. It'll be nice to sleep in and not have to worry about waking up early."

"Does he know you're going to quit training? I can tell him about that too."

"He doesn't, but that's not in his jurisdiction anymore so it's fine."

"Got it." Bucky nodded.

"See you around." You awkwardly lifted your hand in an attempts to wave and walk off.

"Hey, would it be okay if I checked on you tomorrow?" Bucky asked. "It's okay if you're not ready for that yet, but I still worry about you a lot. I just want to make sure you're doing okay."

"Yeah, that's fine. You can stop by whenever." You agreed.

"Thanks" Bucky accepted sadly. Then, what he really wanted to say rolled off his tongue unapologetically. "I really miss you, Bug."

"I miss you too." You agreed, the pain you've become rather familiar but never comfortable with was clawing at your chest again. "A lot, actually. But I don't see a situation in which Steve would be okay with us hanging out again, and I know how important your friendship is with each other and I'd never want to be the one to drive a wedge into that."

"I hope you don't take this as me defending him, because I'm not. I promise I'm not." Bucky started. "But I've known him my whole life, I'd like to think I have a good read of his character, and this is nothing like him. He said some really dumb things to you, but bug? I've never seen him this upset with himself in my entire life."

"I don't think there's anything I can do about that." You shook your head. "He's in your place right now, isn't he?

"Yeah, he is." Bucky told you the truth. "He told me about what happened today, he cried for the first time in a few years because he feels terrible about it and how he made you feel."

You swallowed thickly. "That's not an apology for his behavior."

"It's not, but I'm trying to help you understand each other better. If I can attest to anything, it's that you found out about his crush on you at the worst time imaginable. He loves and cares about you so much, and none of it is ill intended. The reason he kept it in for so long was because he was scared of exactly this situation happening, and he's mortified that he broke your friendship and trust in him. Yes, he's been avoiding talking about it because he was hurt by what we did, but now I think he understands and he's avoiding it because he thinks you hate him."

"I don't hate him" You denied. "I'm mad at the way he's handling this, but I don't hate him."

"I know" Bucky nodded.

"He was really angry when I got to training." You told Bucky. "I've never been scared of him before, but I was terrified of him today. I don't know what he was mad about, but I think it was because I was late. I was only late because Harvey was being an asshole, but Steve told me pointedly that he didn't care."

"He was mad at himself, and it was making him grumpy. He's been like this for a week now."

"I don't know how to move past the way he made me feel earlier. It's like I'm scared to see him again because I'm scared that he's still going to scare me." You explained. "It was like there was no traces of my friend left in there, it felt like he was Captain America, and I was the enemy, and there was no mercy for whatever I did to make him mad."

Bucky sighed because he's seen Steve that angry before, and he knew how scary he really can get. He's a tall, muscular guy, and you're barely five-foot-something with far less fighting experience.

"He would never hurt you" Bucky reminded you. "He knows he scared you, and he's having a breakdown because of it."

"He did hurt me, Buck. In more ways than one." You reminded him. "I love him, I really do, but I'm not responsible for his reaction to the way he hurt me. He scared me, he berated me, and he broke my heart but that's his own doing, and he has to deal with the consequences of that just how I have to deal with the consequences of what happened between you and I and how that made Steve feel."

"I get it." He agreed.

"I'm glad that you two seem to be on okay terms, but you understand how that's bullshit, right?"

"Yeah." Bucky practically whispered.

"Well, for what it's worth I'm sorry you're in the position of being stuck in the middle." You apologized. "I love you, I forgive you for telling Steve because I understand why you did it, and I'll always be here for you if you need me, but I also know I can't be the priority."

"Bug, that's not-"

"It's fine, I get it." You saved him from his own lie. "If he's already struggling, are you going to tell him about my shoulder?"

"I don't know." Bucky sighed, running his fingers through his hair. "Should I?"

You shrugged with your one good arm. "You know him better than I ever will."

"Do you want to talk to him?" Bucky asked already knowing the answer, but he had to give it a shot.

"Not tonight." You denied. "If he wants to talk about it he can come to me, but right now I'm a little high on crazy pills and pain killers so I'd rather wait until I have more time to get into my right mind."

"I understand."

"Thanks for listening, it was really nice seeing you again." You said sincerely.

"Thank you for trusting me. Can I give you a hug?" He asked knowing you needed one desperately.

You nodded and opened your good arm for him, he hugged you gently to avoid hurting you, but it was still healing in a way you haven't felt in a while.

"Don't be a stranger, okay? We can talk more about it whenever you need to in order to make it better. I love you bug, I still want to be your friend and I know we can make it work."

"I appreciate it." You nodded.

"Do you need help getting back to your apartment? I can walk you home."

"I'll be okay." You reassured him. "Have a good night, I'll see you tomorrow."

"See you tomorrow."

Tomorrow came around, and Bucky did eventually come check on you. He found you in bed around 4pm fast asleep with a romcom playing quietly in the background. It made him

Sad to wake you up, but he did it anyways just to make sure you were okay and that you didn't need anything, and once he was convinced that you were okay he left you alone.

Then, that was the last anyone had seen you for 4 whole days. Was it your intention to stay in your apartment for that long? No. But things happen, mental health quickly spirals, and your body felt sick. It was like there was an external force locking you in the walls of your home, and imaginary restraints tying you to your bed.

You were scared to leave because you didn't want to get attacked again, scared to report to work because you didn't want to see Harvey or Steve again, and you were scared to move because you were so tired of being in pain. So yeah, your apartment became your little safe space, but you never realized you were the point of concern around the building.

Especially not so much that you woke up once more, but this time Steve was sitting on the edge of your bed looking absolutely terrified as he gently shook your arm.

"Hey, are you okay?" Steve asked the second your eyes opened, eyebrows pinching together in concern.

You grumbled something he couldn't understand before turning away and covering your entire head with a blanket.

"Wait, stop, I'm not joking. Are you okay?" Steve asked, this time you could hear the genuine worry in his voice.

"Why are you here?" You asked with an adorable glare as your head popped out of the blanket. “What part of leaving me the hell alone do you not understand?”

He hated that it almost made him smile. "No one has seen or heard from you in 4 days. We got so many concerned reports of your disappearance that they made me to a mandated wellness check."

"Obviously I'm well, you can go now." You wrapped yourself tighter in the blankets and turned away from him again.

"You're not obviously well. It's 2pm and you're in bed, you haven't answered anyone's texts or phone calls, and you were supposed to report to Fury today to see if you were okay enough to get back to work. Everyone is worried."

"I'm fine."

"You're watching pride and prejudice." Steve noted simply. "You're not fine."

"Tell Fury I'll report to him in an hour."

"Fury is gone for a while, I think he's out until the end of the month." Steve explained.

"Commander Bennett, then."

"Out of jurisdiction" he reminded you. "That's why Fury sent me."

"Then who can I talk to in an hour?"

"Me." Steve sighed, knowing that's not what you wanted to hear.

"Do you have a meeting spot available in an hour?"

"No, my schedule is full for the rest of the day."

"Tomorrow?"

"Dude, I'm here right now. What's wrong?" Steve asked, his heart pounding and cracking in his chest.

"What time you you have available tomorrow?"

"8am." Steve said simply.

"Fine. I'll take it." You agreed, closing you eyes and trying your best to pretend like this wasn't happening.

"I'm not allowed to leave until I'm convinced you're okay." Steve noted. "Are you sure you don't want to push the meeting up to right now?"

"Positive." You grumbled. "Sometimes when heavy conversations are sprung on someone with no time to prepare for them, it leads to overly emotional responses. Ever heard of something like that happening before, Rogers?"

"Maybe once or twice." He made the active choice to not bite at the argumentative bait you threw him. "How's your shoulder?"

"Attached and functioning."

"When was your last full meal?"

Once again, you turned your head to glare at him. "If I answer these stupid questions does that mean you'll get out of my apartment and go back to pretending like I don't exist?"

"This is just as uncomfortable for me as it is for you" Steve told you. Really, seeing you look so broken down and worn out made him genuinely sad, but right now you weren't looking for his pity. Quite honestly, he was worried about how you would react to him if he expressed how concerned he really was.

Now with knowing what you knew, Steve was at least smart enough to know that if he reacted to this scenario as a coworker, or a boss, or even a friend, all of his concern would be directed straight to the romantic advancement category of your brain. He knew that he always would and always will care for you regardless of if you rejected his feelings for you or not, but in this situation where that information was taken horribly wrong, the best thing he could do was stay neutral and respect that you didn't want to be part of his life anymore.

You didn't want him to care, you didn't want him to be there, you didn't want to get out of bed, and you didn't even want anyone to notice you were gone for so long.

Yet, somehow on the very flip side of the coin, you were mad at him for not expressing that he was more worried about you than he was letting on, you wanted him to just stay with you and fight for a spot back in your life, you wanted to just get out of your congested apartment and breathe some air that wasn't from the buildings circulation system, you wanted to go on a long run and feel the cold morning air, and you wanted the same people who reported you as missing in action to care enough about your existence to actually be nice to you beyond a mandated report.

But really, you just couldn't get yourself to do anything.

Leaving was overwhelming, staying made you want to cry, and there was no solution in between those two options.

"Hey, did I lose you?" Steve asked.

"No. Sorry." You shook your head.

"When was the last time you ate?" He repeated.

"Dinner last night." You grumbled. "I would've lied and said I ate lunch today, but your bullshit detector is almost unfair and I think anything but the truth would make you even more worried."

"At least you're honest." Steve sighed. "Last time you drank?"

"This morning"

"Water?"

"Coffee."

Steve frowned. "Last time you left your apartment?"

"I saw Bucky after I got released from medical, whenever that day was."

"Last time you went outside? Had fun? Hung out with a friend? Anything?"

"I played The Sims 4 yesterday, it was riveting." You said dryly.

"Any future plans you're looking forward to? Something? Anything? Literally just give me anything to work with."

"Ooh!" You perked up. "There's a new sim's expansion pack coming out next week it costs $40 but it's okay because if you break down the cost per hour you play it, it really is cents to a dollar."

"Oh my gosh" Steve sighed, running his hand through his hair and tugging at the ends a big trying to relive the stress you had caused him. "I can't in good conscience say you passed a wellness check."

"I'm trying my best dude, this is all I got. I don't know what else you want from me." You huffed.

You watched Steve's eyebrows furrow in concern as he checked his wrist watch for the time. "Okay, here's the deal."

"If this ends with me in grippy socks and a gown I'm going to be so undeniably pissed off at you."

"You're already undeniably pissed off at me so that's not very threatening, but, no I don't think you need that at this very moment." Steve corrected you. "I have 45 minutes until I have to get to a meeting. If you can pull yourself together and leave your apartment to go get food and do something fun, then check back in with me in a few hours, I'll mark you as well."

"That sounds like a lot of money and effort." You complained.

Steve sighed and pulled his wallet out of the pocket of his nice jeans, then handed you a card between his two fingers. "Take the company card, I'll mark the charges as a business expense."

Only then did your face light up, and you happily grabbed the heavy silver card from his hand. "I think I can work with this."

"The rules are that I need cold hard proof you ate and did at least one activity that'll make you feel better, I don't care what that is. And I need the card back by the end of the day, no ifs ands or buts."

"Deal."

"Okay great, you have 44 minutes now to get out of the building." Steve reminded you.

"Are you really going to stay until I leave?" You questioned, tone full of annoyance and dread.

"Yeah, that's part of the deal."

"Ugh, fine." You ripped the blankets off of yourself. "Can you at least go into the living room so I can shower and change in peace?"

"As you wish" Steve stood up and raised his hands in defense. "But don't make me late, you know I hate being late."

"How could I ever forget?" You rolled your eyes.

More bait that Steve refused to bite, so he quietly walked out of your room and softly closed the door behind him. Sitting on the couch and waiting, half an hour later you flew through your bedroom door and didn't miss a single beat as you flew through the living room and grabbed your purse off the rack.

"Come on, Captain, i'd hate it if you were late under any circumstance!" You said sarcastically, pulling open the front door as he shot up off the couch. "Even if it was completely out of your control!"

"I'm choosing to not respond to that" Steve grumbled, following you out and down the hall with confidence your door would automatically lock as it slammed shut behind the two of you.

Calling the elevator did nothing to slow either of you down as the doors automatically opened, and you shoved yourself into the furthest corner you could, trying your hardest to ignore your racing heart and internal panic over being forced out of the compound. He could read the anxiety on your facial expressions, and feel it radiating off of you as if you were telepathically sending it to him.

You hit the lobby button, Steve hit the floor his office was on.

Since his floor was above the lobby, the doors opened once more and it was his turn to get off. "Have fun, be safe, give me the card back today."

"Wait? When was I supposed to give it back to you?" You made one last sarcastic jab before the doors closed, completely shielding you from his annoyed face.

As per his request, you got food, spent more than a few hours and a few hundred at a beauty salon, made a quick stop home before Steve texted you that he was out of his last meeting.

So you made a leisurely walk over to his office, and knocked twice before entering. He looked tired and more than ready to turn in work for the day as he straightened out the haphazard papers and various sticky notes on his desk.

"That pothos is looking a bit sad." You noted, leaning in the doorway.

The once happy plant with bright green leaves with tiny cream colored patches was now droopy and under watered.

"It's not sad, it's just dramatic when it needs some water. I watered it a few minutes ago, it'll perk up again soon" He explained, looking at the plant, then up to you. "Oh, you got your hair done."

Your hair was now perfectly styled, cut a little shorter, and was a little lighter throughout the ends. Steve also noticed your casual street ware was replaced with your favorite sweatpants and a cropped t shirt. He once again cursed himself for thinking about how beautiful you were when he really should've still been mad at you.

"And my nails, and my eyebrows." You noted, holding up your hands for him to see. "Is this enough evidence?"

"I guess it is." He nodded. "What did you get to eat?"

"Dim sum" you admitted. "Here's the card."

It wasn't the cheapest option in the world, but every few weeks you and Steve would happily splurge and go get dim sum together because it was just so good. But hey, if you had the company card, you we're definitely going to fill your belly up with bao and dumplings.

"Thanks." He took it back from you. "Do you feel any better?"

"Yeah, maybe a little bit." You nodded. "But I am going to continue on with that meeting in the morning, oh, and definitely finish pride and prejudice."

"Would you like to have the meeting now? I'll stay late, I don't mind." He asked. Staying late was the last thing he wanted to do, but nothing would be worse than living with the anxiety that this unknown meeting was causing him.

"No it's fine, you seem tired." You denied. "And by the way, did you know the company card works on The Sims 4?! Now I'm even more excited for that new expansion pack because I didn't have to pay for it!"

He could tell you were still deeply sad and exhausted by your surroundings, but your fake enthusiasm wasn't helping him feel any less concerned by your state of being.

"Lovely. I'm happy for you." Steve said dryly.

"See you in the morning, Captain Rogers. 8 am, don't be late."

And just like that, you slipped past his office door. Steve wished it was physically possible to kick himself in that moment. He so desperately wanted to just talk to you, he wanted to explain himself, express to you that he loved and cared for you regardless of where the two of you stood, he wanted to be a good friend and be there for you through this very obvious rough patch, but he couldn't.

The words never properly formulated whenever he was within eyeshot of you, yet the second you left and when he would lay awake at night staring up at the dark ceiling unable to sleep, those words formed perfectly and passionately with no way to express them in a way you deserved to hear.

Just like always, he laid awake all night just for 8 am to come around. Promptly on time, you were back in his office.

As you took a seat in the very familiar chair across his desk, he noticed three things. The first being that you weren't in uniform, the second being that even though you looked beautiful, you no longer looked like yourself, and last but not least, the words escaped him again.

The concealer under your eyes did little to hide the fact that you had been crying, the blush on your cheeks didn't fool him into believing that the life hadn't been drained from your face. Your eyes were dull, your sweet and spunky personality that he loved so much had been missing for a month now. You were right in front of him, but you felt like a ghost and he found himself missing you.

"You're on time" Steve noted. "I stopped for a coffee this morning and grabbed you one too since you're the first meeting of my day."

Steve placed the perfectly ordered vanilla cold brew in front of you, "oh, thanks. I appreciate that."

"Will you please tell me what's going on now?" Steve practically begged. This very meeting had been looming over his head in a storm cloud of anxiety since yesterday.

Without saying anything, you handed him a piece of paper. He took it from your shaky hands with a dreadful look in his eye, so you sat and sipped your coffee and looked at the swirls in the wood of his beautifully stained desk while awaiting his reaction.

The first and only thing his eye picked up before he refused to read more was 'This letter is intended to notify you of my resignation in two weeks from S.H.I.E.L.D.'

"No." Steve said sternly before sliding your resignation letter right back to you.

"No?" You questioned.

"Absolutely not."

"I'm quitting and you're saying...no?" You cocked your head to the side, trying not to cry out of immediate frustration. "You understand that's probably illegal?"

"When have I ever been one to follow the law?" He asked rhetorically. "I can't let you throw everything you've worked so hard for away just because of me. Nuh-uh. Not going to happen."

"This has nothing to do with you, and everything to do with me." You corrected him.

"Why do you think this is the best choice for you right now?" Steve poked, trying his hardest to ignore the way his heart was sitting in the bottom of his stomach.

You braced yourself with a big breath, and accepted the presence of the never ending tears that always stung your eyes nowadays. "Being here has proven to be the worst experience for my mental health, and I need it to get better because I'm scared of what will happen to me if it doesn't."

"There are other things we can try before taking a step this drastic." Steve pleaded.

You shook your head in denial. "I can't get out of bed anymore."

"I'll get you a therapist."

"I've barely been able to eat, shower, work out." You continued painting the picture for him while quickly wiping away a tear. "This is the furthest I've ever been from myself. I look in the mirror and don't recognize my reflection, all i want to do is sleep so I don't have to deal with the constant state of anxiety I'm in just to wake up and hate that I feel numb. I've lost control over my own emotions and I can't take it anymore. We all saw this coming, Steve, so please just let me go."

"Harvey is literally one write up away from getting fire-"

"Four months ago, it had been 3 years since the last time I cried. Now I think I cry about three times a day, and sometimes I need to cry but nothing happens. It's like I'm losing my mind and I hate it."

"But..."

"I never took a day off or called out since I started shield until that one mission when Harvey made sure I got hurt. Ever since then I've been getting hurt more, working less, having to take days off left and right. At this rate, I'd rather go quietly before I get fired."

"Nobody is going to fire you." Steve denied.

"Even before everything happened, I haven't been happy here. My friends and my boyfriend were the only ones keeping me sane and tying me down to the compound, but now? I don't have a boyfriend or even friends for that matter. Everyone here hates me. Nothing is grounding me."

"Do you have another job lined up?" Steve sank in his chair.

"I'll figure it out."

"You know quitting means you'd lose your housing?" Steve challenged. "Do you have another living situation lined up?"

"Yeah, I have two places and two sets of people waiting for me."

You were being cryptic, but Steve knew you were talking about your Sister and Brother in-Law, and your Mom and Dad.

"But you haven't signed a lease yet?"

"No, not yet." You sniffled.

There was a break in conversation, Steve's wheels obviously moving and cranking desperately trying to come up with a solution. So you sat and dissociated from the situation while talking small and slow sips of your coffee.

"Okay, since I legally can't say no to you right now, here's what we're going to do." Steve sat up, and rolled his chair closer into the desk. "I'm putting you on a two week paid leave of absence instead. Take the two weeks to get out of the compound, stay with whoever is waiting for you and really focus on yourself. Really think about what you want, then at the end of the two weeks if you still think that you don't want to do this anymore, that's fine. I'll terminate your employment on the spot, no need for another notice."

"Okay" You accepted. Not only was it a good deal, but it got you out of the compound as soon as today, and all you wanted to do was run out of the doors and never come back.

He started typing around on his computer, and a piece of paper came out of the printer that jumped on. "In the meantime I also really want you to consider this." You grabbed the warm paper from his hands, and looked it over to see that it was the benefits list to the Avengers position. "You'd move up into the loft with the rest of us, you'd never have to see any of the other agents again if you didn't want to. The job is easier- not as busy with more downtime. Everyone loves you and wants you there, plus it would be an increase in pay with better benefits and a killer 401k."

"Everyone?" You asked, "I can think of two people that probably wouldn't want me there right now."

He gave you a disappointed dad stare. "Everyone, and I mean that."

"Much to think about." You mumbled.

"Since you'll be gone and out of harms way, I'm going to take the time to whip the boys into shape since they can't retaliate against you." He noted.

"Good luck with that."

"Questions, comments, concerns?"

"No questions, no more comments, and no less than a million concerns but that's just an average day for me." You stood up from his desk. "Thanks for your time and effort, I'll be back in two weeks I guess."

"Hey, I'm rooting for you, and I genuinely mean that." Steve reminded you sadly. "If you need anything at all, professionally or personally, I'm here. I always will be."

You nodded before pushing through the doors with your coffee and benefits list in hand. As quickly as you could, you packed a bag full of everything you'd need to be gone for a little while in hopes that you could get out of the building before the news spread. The last thing you wanted was Bucky trying to convince you to stay or Harvey getting some sort of sick satisfaction from your choice.

It took about an hour, but walking through the compound with a backpack and a duffel was the most satisfying and enjoyable experience you've ever had since the first time you walked into the building.

Getting into the car and turning the key in the ignition, you let the air from the vents hit your face and dry out the tears on your cheeks. Your seatbelt clicked in place and held you like a hug while the music from your playlist connected to Bluetooth and sang comforting words to you.

After putting in the address to your parents house in maps and set off on your journey, you had an hour and 45 minute drive ahead of you to relax and let the weight of the world roll off your shoulders.

But in the process of setting off on your journey, nothing was more comforting that seeing the reflection of the compound becoming smaller and smaller in the rear view mirrors.

Much like the gravity of all the issues that lived within the cold, gray building, they became smaller and smaller the further you got.

You let all of your problems stay locked in the concrete walls for Steve, Bucky, and Harvey to deal with on their own. Because right now, you needed to get better, you needed to feel like you again.

By the time you pulled into your parent's driveway, you barely had time to open your car door before your dad was grabbing your bags from the back seat while your mom was waiting for a hug.

You hopped out of the car and happily wrapped your arms around her. Before you knew it, there were little arms around your legs, your dad joined in, then two more sets of arms held you close.

"Wha-" You mumbled, lifting your head to see your sister, her husband and your nephew were here as well. "What are you guys doing here?!"

"We made the drive over so we can spend a few days together as a whole family." Jane explained with a kind, sympathetic smile on her face. "Luca lives in a constant state of missing his Auntie Smalls, and we all miss having you around so we thought this would be a perfect opportunity to get some quality time in."

"We know you're having a hard time, sweetheart." Your Mom pet your hair lovingly. "But we're here to rally around you no matter what, okay?"

"Whether you choose to be an agent, or an avenger, or a barista at the coffee shop around the corner, we're going to love you and support you just the same." Your dad reminded you, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. "There's plenty of space here for you, we're happy to have you as long as you need. There's no rush."

“And when they inevitably start to drive you absolutely insane, our house is your house too. You know we would love to have you, as would Luca." Nathan, your brother in law told you.

"We're going to have so much fun! Mommy brought puzzles, and paints, and ooh! We can play Nintendo-" Luca started excitedly.

"Woah there buddy, let's let Auntie at least put her stuff down before we start bombarding her, alright?" Jane giggled.

"Fine... Auntie let's go inside!" Luca grabbed your hand and gently pulled you towards the door of your childhood home.

You looked back with a genuine smile on your face. Tears filled your eyes at the sight of your family in the driveway, but this time they were happy tears, something you were completely unfamiliar with.

"Thank you, I love you guys." You put your free hand over your heart as Luca continued to happily walk you in.

"We love you too." Your mom said, finding comfort next to your dad who was lovingly wrapping his arm around her.

He was happy and content to have his kids and grandkid all under the same roof. Nothing made him happier than his empty nest becoming full again. "We love you more."

Next Part: Little Birdie

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[fleshbride]

A HOUSE IN NEBRASKA. ────── ཐི Satoru Gojo x Fem Black Reader. In which a young man and his small town lover run to a house in Nebraska to escape the traumas of their hometown. ཋྀ

♱ CW: major character deaths, suicide, angst with a happy ending, brief alcoholism, racism/microagressions, childhood best friend & country satoru, small town bullshit, a single derogatory use of ‘nigga’. fluff. pet names such as: sugar plum, doll, honey, princess, baby girl, dream girl, darling, sweet thing & sunshine. smut; unprotected sex, whiny service dom gojo, sub reader. cervix fucking, fingering, oral (f! receiving), riding, breeding, extreme amounts of praise bc satoru talks so fucking much, overstimulation, dumbification, light choking, marking, nipple play, body worship, dacryphilia, begging, pussy drunk satoru. satoru is utterly in love with you and does not try to hide it. chubby reader.

♱ this fic is inspired by a house in nebraska by ethel cain, my favorite singer <3 it’s one of my much much longer fics… this fic is actually so ouch. i’m so so so sorry guys. like yeah there’s PASSIONATE love making, but it’s so so so sad. i actually sobbed writing this. it’s not proof read so pleaseeeee excuse any any mistakes!

♱ wc: 10.1k

You didn’t think it would hurt this much. You didn’t think you’d feel them lodge in your throat, push down your esophagus with a burn. You take more gulps of water, as you gasp and choke. It helps a little bit. You swallow more. And more. And more. Until the bottle of oxycodone is empty. How many were in there? About thirty. You grasp at another bottle. Cross contamination is always the best method. Those go down your throat just as horribly as the rest.

You’re sitting on the floor now, waiting for your death to approach. The pills are burning down to your stomach, and you gulp more water. You stand on shaky legs, and stumble your way to your bed. It’s empty. Like so many other things. Like your heart.

You remember how you got to this point, in your final hours. As you collapse into your bed, eyes fluttering shut, you allow the memories to wash over you.

Two years ago, you lived in a small town in Alabama. It was your nineteenth birthday and you were intent on celebrating in a way that satisfied you. However, while legally an adult, you still weren’t old enough to do too much. And frankly, you weren’t well liked within town. Why? Well, in such a small town, even one you grew up in, that was predominantly another race… They weren’t very accepting to your differences. They weren’t very accepting to your skin, to your hair, to your body, to your personality. They weren’t accepting to you at all.

Even though you grew up there like the rest of them, played with their children, held some of their sons and daughters while they cried and helped them pass their classes, and walked the graduation stage with them. You were still an outsider.

And it was okay — because you had Satoru.

Satoru Gojo, the one of the only other people of color in the entire town — even though he was pale haired, with the bluest eyes you’ve ever seen, like everyone else in the town — was your best friend. You two had been best friends since third grade when he beat up some kid that called your afro ugly, and then you kicked some kid in the balls when he made fun of Satoru’s eyes, since he was Asian. Even at a young age, you two knew that those things were wrong — and you had to stick together.

And you did. You’ve stuck together all your lives, even through middle school, when your boobs started growing, and your hips started widening, and he got taller and his voice got deeper, and all of a sudden, there was this weird feeling. You stuck together through high school, when you got your first boyfriend, and he got his first girlfriend, neither of which ended well. Stuck together even when everyone twanged out, “Are y’all fuckin’?” You stuck together.

So of course, your birthday is spent with him.

Satoru still lives with his parents, technically. They own a ranch on the outskirts of town, and Satoru has his own personal little refurbished barn house, which he got for his graduation present. You’re always there, even more than your own home. Even now, you’re waiting on the wraparound porch of your house, hand over your eyes as you squint into the distance.

You can make out Satoru, on a horse, and with another at his side. He didn’t. You feel yourself squeal at the sight of the familiar white horse; your favorite one. Her name is Jezzy, and she’s the only white horse they have. You and Jezzy had bonded when Jezzy was first born, a little calf. You’ve been her favorite, and vice versa ever since. Frankly, she likes you more than the man that takes care of her.

You don’t wait for Satoru to get to your porch. You run to him, your gladiator sandals slapping against the dirt path and making your white-painted toes dusty. The pink and green floral dress you wear flutters around your knees as you sprint, the wind whipping your neck. Satoru hops down from his caramel horse, Honesty. He’s running to meet you half way, and the smile that had made its way onto your face only grows wider.

He yells your name, and you yell his, and the two of you collide. You throw your arms around his shoulders, and his arms encircle your waist as he lifts you up into a spin. “Happy Birthday, girl,” he laughs in your ear when he finally puts you down. His familiar Southern twang bouncing in your ears. He kisses your forehead, before taking a finger to run through your newly straightened hair.

“Yer curls are gone,” he says, almost sad, his lips pulling in a familiar pout. “You’re gonna get ‘em back, right? Love it when your hair’s like that.” He leans his arm on your shoulder, a familiar habit, even though he’s much taller than you.

“Yes, Satoru,” you muse, “They’ll be back next week, no worries.” You laugh as he whoops, and jumps in the air, clicking his heels together and causing dust to rise up. When he lands, he gives you a proud grin, folding his arms. You notice what he wears. He’s wearing a black polo shirt, that’s tucked into blue jeans and his jeans are messily tucked into his boots. You chuckle. Him and those fucking boots. His wind breaker is thrown over the polo. However, your eyes linger on how his chest presses against the polo. His white locks of hair frame his face, although his cowboy hat smushes his hair, and his sapphire eyes gaze at you happily. You don’t look away and he smirks.

“How’s it feel bein’ nineteen, sugar plum?” Satoru asks as he leads you to Jezzy, who’s quick to snort at you and nuzzle your face with her huge nose. You giggle and scratch her neck, pulling away a little so she doesn’t ruin the makeup you did on your face.

“Doesn’t feel like nothin’, Satoru,” you respond, jolting as he grabs your hips and lifts you to help you onto the horse. His strong hands on your hips make you bristle a little, but you should be used to it now, shouldn’t you? “Just getting older.” He grins up at you from below, giving a little laugh. “Yeah, I get it, plum. I’ll be turnin’ twenty in December, and man… I was just a tyke, wrestlin’ in the fields yesterday.”

You laugh, watching as he boards Honesty. You two start the horses up and begin trotting down the path. There’s a few seconds of silence, before Satoru asks, “You sure y’wanna do this birthday party?”

Ah. You were so swept up by Satoru’s arrival that you forgot where he was taking you. His mother threw a party for you, and decided to invite ‘damn near everyone in town’, according to Satoru. He was very dubious, considering your treatment, but you agreed to it. At first, your mother wanted it to be a surprise party, but Satoru insistently shut that down.

“I’m sure, ‘Toru,” you say gently. The male smacks his teeth, and rolls his eyes a little, before adding, “We can tell my mama to cancel everything, y’know? She won’t be mad at’cha. She knows that the townspeople are dickheads.” You refuse the urge to laugh, because he’s right. They are dickheads. However, you have hope.

“It’s fine,” you insist, “I don’t wanna waste your mom’s hard work. Plus, I’m sure nobody’s gonna do anything on my birthday.” Satoru sighs, but he doesn’t press any further. You’re not too worried; you know if something does happen, he’s right behind you, and he’ll come in swinging. There hasn’t been a time that he hasn’t. However, despite that, you can’t help but secretly feel jittery and nervous.

The rest of your ride to Satoru’s home is filled with jokes, and playful banter. The cool night air swirls around you two, making you shiver a little. You should’ve brought your cardigan. Satoru’s eyes quickly catch on and he chucks his windbreaker at you. He doesn’t say a word as you catch it, he just nods at you. You slide it on, and even in the cool air, your cheeks feel hot.

When you two get in sight of the house, Satoru whistles out, “Race ‘ya!” And it catches you off guard, but you’re quick to spur Jezzy on into canter, her strong legs sprinting forward as the two of you race towards the large ranch house. You and Jezzy win, making Satoru groan. As you both slow down, beginning to head to the stables, he shoots, “You only won ‘cause it’s your birthday!”

Your smug smile says enough about how you feel about that; even though Satoru has more experience with horses, you have your own little luck with racing — you win every race.

You watch as Satoru slides off Honesty. She brays at him and nudges his shoulder, and he chuckles, cooing to her, grabbing both of the horses’ saddle handles, pulling them into the stable. You know better than to try to get off horses on your own; you’re thrown off balance, every time, and end up on your ass. So you wait patiently as he puts Honesty in her stable, before coming over to you.

“Didn’t forget ‘ya, sugar plum,” he grins at you as he presses his hands to your hips. Instead of helping you crawl down, he simply just lifts you down. The stables smell of a mixture of horse, hay and dirt. Even though it’s not the best smell, you’re not focused on it. You’re focused on the way Satoru looks over you as he sets you on, eyes raking over your figure.

The dress that’s glued to your wide hips, draped over your plush figure. Your makeup, delicately painted on your face; he can tell you took your time on it. And you’re still wearing his jacket. He smiles, tucking a strand of your collarbone-length hair behind your ear. “Look at you,” comes his affectionate murmur, one that makes a fuzzy, bubbly feeling spread from your toes to your head. “Just a doll. Prettiest fuckin’ girl in this entire town.” You feel those feelings rising inside of you, and you try to push him away, embarrassed as you say, “Oh, stop, Satoru,” but he pulls you closer by your waist, craning down to you to press a kiss to your forehead.

“Nuh-uh, doll. You jus’ look so beautiful. You always do, but tonight you’re just… wow. Yer glowin’, Y/N.” Your heart is racing as he squeezes the plush of your waist, making you let out a ticklish giggle. Often, there are random times where he gets affectionate with you, extremely so — you should be used to these moments, but you aren’t. Your hands fist into his shirt as his lips press from your forehead, to down your chin. Your breath catches when they get too close to your lips.

This isn’t friendship anymore, is it?

“Happy birthday, princess,” he whispers into your ear, finally pulling away. You look up at him, eyes wide, as you breathily respond, “Thank you…” Satoru looks down at you, smiling gently as he hold you. He murmurs, “I have a surprise for you, y’know. Think you’ll like it.” Before you can question him, he places a finger right above your lips. He’s considerate; doesn’t wanna ruin your lip combo. “A little into the party. Don’t worry ‘bout it.”

The two of you pull away from each other hesitantly, and Satoru kicks at the hay as he grins at you. “Party time, birthday girl. Come on.” The two of you exit the stable, sides brushing as you walk to his house.

Within ten minutes, you regretted insisting on going. Once you entered the ranch, carols of your name and ‘happy birthday’ echoed throughout the large common room. It was decorated in gold and white, with balloons everywhere and a little banner hung up for you. Satoru’s mother gave you a large hug, and wrapped her arms around your waist, steering you around to see the cake she baked you. You were all smiles and beams, immediately falling into her, with Satoru lumbering after, your hand outstretched backwards, clasped in his.

After you saw the cake, which was tri-tiered and your favorite flavor, you were passed around from person to person. You got many hugs, from townspeople you were sure didn’t like you very much, and to be fair; you enjoyed the kind attention. You wished it was your birthday every day.

Until, you got to a certain group of young women. You had graduated with the group, even though they were nasty as hell to you. As they approached you, you knew it wouldn’t be good. Vanessa, a tall brunette with pretty hazel eyes, gave you the fakest smile you’ve ever seen, before pulling you into a hug. “Oh, Y/N! Happy birthday, baby!” She cooed, squeezing you. You swallowed, wrapping your arms around her in turn. “…Thank you, Vanessa.” Once Vanessa pulled away, her two friends, Isabel and Megan, gave you hugs also.

“Ugh, Y/N,” Isabel began, running her fingers through your shiny silk press, “You look so much prettier with straight hair! Is this your real hair?” You give an awkward laugh as you gently remove her hand from your hair, looking around for Satoru frantically. Partygoers heard her comment and turned to tune in, furthering your discomfort.

“Yeah, it’s my real hair, please don’t touch it,” you tell her sweetly, watching as she rolls her eyes a little. “I was just complimenting you! You should wear it like that all the time, it looks so much better than your other hair.” You bristle uncomfortably. Were these bitches being racist? You swallow hard and give her a nod, and a smile.

Vanessa steps forward, eyeing you over before she’s chirping loudly, “And that dress is soooo cute! But it’s kinda tight.. Have you gained weight, or something?” Your smile almost drops, but you manage to keep it up, as you let out a delayed, fake laugh. People are starting to whisper and nudge each other, and immediately, more nosy sons of bitches turn to eye you. You’ve always been a bit thicker — that’s no secret. You didn’t have the skinny white girl genes, no. You were filled in by the time you were 13, and even as a nineteen year old, you had a bit of a plump body. You weren’t overweight or obese; you were perfectly healthy. It was just the way your body was. And the fact that these girls thought they could pick on you about it?

You refused to let it happen on your birthday.

“Oh no,” you cooed gently, mirroring Vanessa’s tone, “I haven’t! But um, are you recovering?” You blink gently at her. Fine, you think mentally, if she wants to put on a show, we can do that.

“From what?” Vanessa chirps hesitantly, eyes narrowing. She didn’t think you knew, huh?

“Those butt injections you got last month!” You answer loudly, putting a hand over your heart. Vanessa’s eyes widened as she looked around frantically, as people slowly began to whisper intently. She wasn’t used to the whispers, it seemed.

You were visiting at the local doctor’s office, when you overheard the doctor’s conversation with Vanessa, she was asking some questions about pain for it. You hurried to the bathroom before you could be seen, keeping the information in your head. From the corner of your eye, you see Satoru making his way from the kitchen. He’s obviously heard what’s going on, and doesn’t look happy.

“I didn’t get no injections!” She claims, trying to take advantage of the situation, “Y/N, how could you spread such a nasty rumor?”

“Huh,” You say, “That’s real funny. So you’re just gaining weight too, hm? We should go to the gym together, do some cardio, you know? You must be eating a lot, if it’s all going to your ass!” You giggle, pushing her shoulder and making it all seem like some joke. She has no choice but to giggle with you.

“You know who I haven’t seen here?” Megan speaks up and immediately, you’re on edge. While Vanessa may be the face of the trio, she’s the one who’s more lethal and intelligent with her words. You’ve learned this too many times from high school. “Your parents, Y/N. Typical Black parents, you know? Never there when their kid needs them.” And more publicly racist. You resist the urge to grab this girl by her throat, and show her what exactly your Black parents had taught you. It isn’t like they’re absent — your father passed when you were a teen, and your mother was a chronic workaholic, struggling to provide for you.

“Crazy,” you hear a monotonous voice go behind you. You know exactly who it is, and you couldn’t be more relieved. In typical country boy fashion, Satoru is behind you, chewing on a toothpick. “Megan, weren’t ‘ya crying to me about how your poor dear ol’ daddy beats on ‘ya? Typical Megan, y’know? Always self-projectin’.” He whistles as he presses his hand to the small of your back, steering you out the ranch, the comments of the party trailing behind him. In the faint throes, you even hear, “That nigga bitch…”

You pretend it doesn’t bother you as Satoru leads you to his barn.

Once you’re comfortably nestled in the warmth of his barn, you let out your frustrations about the racism of the town. Satoru sits next to you, his toothpick still resting in his mouth. He watches you intently, before humming out, “Ya done, doll? Don’t let those assholes ruin yer day. Matter fact…” He got up, heading to his little kitchen. You only watched, still fuming a bit.

“Close yer eyes!” The white haired man yells at you, and you do so obediently, pretty brown eyes fluttering shut. You wait for him, hands folded in your lap. You hear the couch creak a little and something set on the table.

“Open ‘em,” you hear his gravelly voice tell you, and you obey. Your eyes lock on a cupcake, with a single candle in it. You soften considerably, calming down immediately.

“Aw, Satoru..” You whisper gently, placing your hand over his, eyes flickering from his face to the cupcake. “You didn’t have to.”

“Yeah I did,” he retorts, squeezing your hand. “You didn’t get to eat any of the cake, even though it was yours, and we needed to be alone anyways. Make a wish, honey.”

You close your eyes, leaning to the cupcake.

I wish that Satoru and I are together as long as we live, and even in death, may we stay together.

You blow out the candle then, before sliding the candle out the middle and licking the frosting off of it.

“One more thing,” Satoru says, sliding his hand into his pockets. He pulls out a golden heart-shaped locket from his pocket, dangling it around his finger. “This is for you, birthday girl.” He cracked open the locket, showing the pictures. On one side was a picture from third grade, the first day they met matter of fact — Satoru’s mother had taken it as a memento. On the other side was your graduation picture, where Satoru had his arm wrapped around you and his lips pressed into your forehead. How far you two had come.

He waves the locket in front of your face, as you gasp at the picture. “We haven’t been able to find this picture years, how did you….?” Satoru only grins and shrugs, as if it was nothing at all. In your pure bliss, you throw your arms around him. His arms wrap around your waist in turn, hugging you tightly.

You can feel tears budding in your eyes as you whimper out, “This was so nice of you…! I appreciate it so much, thank you, I love you!” Satoru laughs as he rocks you, before responding, “Shh. It was no biggie. C’mere, let me put it on for ‘ya.”

You pull away gently from each other, and you turn so that your back faces him. He drapes the necklace over your chest, using his knuckles to push your chin up a bit. He fiddles with the hooks a little before getting it right and letting go. You skim your fingers over the locket before turning back around with a smile.

He opened the locket, looking at the picture. “Man. Can’t believe I found photographs of our school, on the day we met.” He smiles a little, as he looks between the two small pictures. His eyes flicker up to you, then back down. You only watch him with softening eyes. Your heart pumps, and that bubbly feeling spreads through you again. He makes you feel so warm. You’re not an idiot, you know exactly what the things you feel are. You weren’t dense; you knew for a long time.

But you can’t bear to say a word before he did. However, you didn’t expect it to be so soon.

Satoru takes a deep breath, his eyes filled with a mix of anticipation and vulnerability. He gathers his courage before softly uttering, "I thought that you were so beautiful… it was love, I guess." His gaze remains fixed on you, his heart hanging in the balance, waiting for your response, hoping that his words have stirred something within you.

You don’t realize what he had said at first, before it registers. You double take, eyes widening as you look at him frantically. “Satoru. Satoru. It was what?” His face is pink as he looks away from you, but you were insistent, crawling closer to him as you plead, “It was what?” Your hands grab his shirt and he whistles, looking away from you.

Finally, he mumbles out, “… Was love, I guess.”

“What kind?” You press, tears bubbling in your eyes once more. It couldn’t be. He looks at you for what feels like hours. “You know what kind, darlin’. Don’t make me repeat myself. In a way I shouldn’t.”

“Say it.” You hiss, crawling into his lap. He spreads his legs immediately, making room for you as you place yourself in front of him, grabbing his chin and forcing him to look at you. “Tell me.” One of his hands rests on your hip and the other trails to play with your locket.

He looks almost shy this way, his blue eyes heavy lidded as you request his words. He sucks in an inhale before he’s saying, “I love you, Y/N…. and not as your best friend. I want ‘ya to be my girl. There, said it… Please let me be yours.”

You’re silent. He wants you to be his girl. Your brain is slow to process it, slow to understand it, slow to reciprocate. However, as you reflect upon his desire for you, a wave of emotions starts to wash over you. Confusion is gradually replaced by clarity, hesitation transforms into certainty, and the realization of his affection for you fills your heart with joy. Suddenly, everything seems to make sense, like a complex jigsaw puzzle finally coming together to reveal a beautiful picture.

“Okay.” It’s all you say. Satoru’s eyes widen, as if he was expecting a rejection. Before he can answer, you’re pressing your lips to his, finally taking the initiative for fucking once. When your lips crash against him, it’s like heaven and hell have collided in a fiery, desperate match.

Satoru’s hands grasp at you, desperate, as his tongue pushes its way into your mouth, curling against your tongue. The way you two kiss is messy, and needy, saliva coats your lips, but it couldn’t be better. Satoru pants into your mouth as he runs his hands over your body feverishly.

“Fuck,” he grunts into your mouth, pulling away briefly to adjust his pants as best as possible. “So hard, you got me s’hard, doll. Shit, shit, get up, or ‘m gonna explode..” You can feel his dick, straining against his jeans beneath you. You don’t get up from your spot, and he lets out a groan into your mouth.

Your hands are sliding under his shirt, feeling the firm abs underneath, trying to touch any bit of his skin you can. His hands squeeze the swell of your ass as he nips at your bottom lip, before sliding his lips down to your throat. He begins to kiss your throat before sucking, biting, making sure your skin is covered in dark marks.

You grab his cowboy hat and throw it off, so you’re able to sink your fingers into his white locks of hair, letting out slight moans as his hands move from your ass to your tits. He caresses them through your dress, and you hiccup as he finds your nipples.

“You ain’t even wearin’ a bra?” He asks you, pulling away from the curve of your neck, to look at you. Satoru’s eyes are glazed over, and low. His face is pink, his hair is ruffled, and his lips are swollen, but he’s never looked happier.

You shake your head, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth nervously. “It didn’t look right with my dress…” Satoru only stares at you, before he’s throwing his head back, groaning. “Fuck, I can’t do this. I can’t do this, princess, I need you so bad.” His chest rises and falls so rapidly, and you can feel his bulge pressing up against you as you sit on him.

You need him just as bad as he needs you, the wetness in your panties tells you all you need to know. Satoru is looking at you with those violently blue eyes. You realize that you’ve been holding your feelings back for years, even now — your love for him, your attraction, and your pure, unadulterated desire.

“Please,” he whispers, pressing a small kiss to your lips, “Please let me put it inside you, please, just the tip.. Please, please, please, fuck, it feels like ‘m gonna fuckin’ die, please, baby girl, need your pussy s’bad….” You enjoy the way he’s acting; you’ve never been wanted like this before, and you doubt you ever will.

“Satoru, you don’t have to beg,” you murmur, draping yourself across his body, arms around his shoulders as he palms your ass and sneaks his hand down to cup your clothed heat.

“Know I don’t,” he whispers, fingers pressing against you in a way that makes you lift your hips, and whine a little. “Look at how wet you are, girl. Any more and ya just may flood your panties.” His fingers push your panties to the side and you gasp as the cold air hits your pussy. His other hand hikes up your dress, balling it up in his fist.

“Gonna make you feel good first, doll,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to your jawline. “Relax, ‘nd let Satoru take care of you, mkay?” You nodded feverishly as a finger slid through your plush folds. His finger almost immediately found your clit and swirled around it, causing you to let a little mewl escape your lips. Satoru’s lips were meanwhile pulled into a smug grin at the sound you made. He maneuvered your body, so you were lying back against the couch, legs spread for him.

He tugged your panties down your legs and tossed them somewhere, before pushing the fabric of your dress up and settling between your plump thighs. Without wasting any more time, his finger circled your entrance, teasing you. You huff a little, pouting down at the white haired man, and he grins in response before sliding two fingers into you.

You moan, arching your back as pleasure seeps through you. Satoru’s long fingers reach farther than yours ever could. He smiles at you as he curls his fingers against your walls. “Such pretty moans, good girl,” he coos, pressing a kiss to your thighs, as he begins to pump his fingers inside of you. Your thighs twitch, and you grip at the couch. His fingers are skilled, scissoring and curling, as the sloppy sound of your wetness echoed through the barn. Satoru leaned forward, enclosing his lips around your clit.

The combined effort of his fingers and his mouth had you squirming and whining beneath him. He pressed a hand to your stomach, his movements halting and eyes narrowing as they snapped to you; you know what he was telling you. Stop moving or he’d stop.

You couldn’t take that. You stilled your movements, trying your best to relax as Satoru slowly resumed his ministrations, lapping at your cunt while sliding his fingers in and out of you. His fingers curled against a spot that had your toes curling as you cried out his name. He pressed his tongue flat against your clit, and had another finger pressing into your heat. You let out a squeal at the slight burn, hand flying to grip his hair. “Satoru-! Ah, that’s too much!” He gave you a silencing glare, blue eyes honeyed with lust. His fingers nudged your g-spot, and the whine that left your lips let him know exactly what he had pressed.

His movements all sped up, as you felt your stomach tightening. Between each of your moans was a pant, as you cried of his name. Everytime his fingertips pressed against your g-spot, you felt yourself get closer and closer to orgasm. Mixed with his tongue swirling your clit, you couldn’t take it. Your thinking got fuzzy as the rubber band in your core was pulled farther and farther. “Toru! I-I’m close!” You whimpered, as his quick, skilled movements brought you to your peak. Your eyes rolled back as you gushed all over his fingers, breathing hard. You didn’t even notice, in your stupor, when he replaced his fingers with his tongue, lapping up your essence.

His tongue was flat against your entrance, as he licked from hole to clit and back again. When you finally came to, you were whining all over again, sensitive as Satoru flicked his tongue across your bundle of nerves. You pushed his head, letting out a. “Hold on, ‘m sensitive!” Satoru smacked your hand away, mumbling out, “Shh, doll. Gimme another one.”

He dived back in between your thighs, mouth latched onto your pussy as he pressed his tongue against your hole, fat tongue working itself while he slurped at your essence. A mixture of his spit and your juices dripped down your ass – but he was quick to slide his tongue down, licking that right up.

He was messy with his mouth, unabashedly slurping, sucking, and licking everything you had to offer, the wet smacking noises echoing through the room. You would’ve been embarrassed if it didn’t feel so good.

Before long, you were about to cum a second time, eyes squeezing closed as you gasped and spasmed, letting out a broken cry as another orgasm claimed your body. Satoru was ecstatic, lapping up your cum and guiding you through your high without breaking a sweat.

Once you came down from your high, he pulled away gently, his intense gaze locked on you. His eyes glimmered, pale hair askew as he latched his mouth back to yours. His hands gripped at your dress, yanking at the sleeves to pull them down your arms, before the entire dress was coming down to your waist.

Your lips moved feverishly as you fiddled with the buttons of his polo, and he raised his arms to slide it off. His buff form was revealed, abs firm and his strong arms moving to cocoon you against him. There were gentle words being exchanged between your lips. “So gorgeous, Y/N. Fuuuck, honey, can’t wait to feel your pussy ‘round my dick.” Satoru mumbles as his fingers fumble with his jeans. However, before he unbuttons them, he looks at you. “You sure you want this, sunshine? We can stop here, and keep kissin’. Fuck what I want, ‘kay? What does m’girl want?”

God, you didn’t think that he could get any hotter. But his consideration of your wants and needs make you get even wetter. “Satoru, I want you,” you say gently, one hand pressing to the side of his face. He nuzzles into your touch, eyes softening. “Want you too, sunshine. So much I just might go insane..” He finally unbuttoned those stupid jeans, yanking them down and his boxers with it. His length sprung out, and your eyes popped out of your head.

Satoru was the size that those fake ass dick pills promised, his tip pressing just under his belly button. His tip was mushroom shaped and fat, as pink as his blushed cheeks, and weeping fat beads of precum. His length was a bit on the skinnier side, and although his girth wasn’t anything to fear too much, his length definitely was. His dick was something straight out of porn propaganda.

“Toru, that’s not gonna fit,” you found yourself saying, your eyes flickering from his length to his pretty face in anxiousness. Satoru only leaned down to kiss you, shutting you up. “It’s okay, princess” he whispered sweetly. Even now, as his dick pressed against your stomach, his tip landed slightly above your navel. “Don’t be scared, ‘m gonna take such good care of you,” his kisses went down your neck, to your chest. He kissed around your breasts, before his tongue flicked out to lick your right nipple, hardening it. He turns his head, lavishing the same attention on your left. His hands multitasked, grabbing a pillow and sliding it underneath your back.

His kisses moved to the valley of your breasts, before going down your stomach. He pressed kisses into your love handles, to your stomach, to your cunt, which made you giggle, to your thighs, before he was holding up your legs and kissing up your calves. He even kissed your feet. He traced your stretch marks lovingly, murmuring out, “Only God knows how I’ve waited for this. For you. Fuck, Y/N, you’re just so fucking beautiful. More beautiful than any of the women in this town. Shit, I could cum just lookin’ at you…”

You couldn’t help but simper at his words, face warming as you wrap your legs around his waist. “Please just fuck me already, Satoru.” His tip slid against your clit and you let out a soft whine. “Please, just…” You were silenced by the feeling of him rubbing his tip down your slit, collecting your juices before you felt him pressing against your hole.

You hissed, hands flying up to his shoulders as your nails dug into his skin. To distract you from the burn of him entering you, he began to lather kisses and lovebites across your throat and collarbones. Your hole stretched around his tip, as tears burned in your eyes, the slight pain making you shift uncomfortably.

“It’s okay, baby girl, I got you,” he whispered against your skin, tongue sliding across your throat as he sucked more hickeys onto the expanse of your throat. He pushed his tip in, and once the burn of it faded, he fed you inch by inch of his dick. Your pussy constricted around him, sucking him in greedily as your juices coated his length.

The feeling of him bottoming out inside of you had you letting out a high-pitched whine, eyes rolling back. Above you, Satoru let out a whine identical to yours. “Oh, f-fuck,” he stuttered, his eyes squeezing shut, “Fuck, almost came. You’re so warm, ‘nd wet— You feel so good, baby doll, oh shit.. Your pussy’s grippin’ me so nicely, fuck, I-I can’t take it.. Oh my God, tell me when I can move…”

Satoru was breathing heavily, as he looked down at you, your pretty face contorted in pleasure as his tip nudged against your cervix. Just the feeling of him stretching you out had you seeing stars, euphoria coursing through your veins. When you finally adjusted, you tapped his shoulder, telling him you were ready.

Satoru pulled out, so that only his fat tip was inside of you, before rocking his hips into yours. That first shallow thrust had you release a hiccuped moan, gripping his shoulders. He took this as a positive sign. Satoru’s thrusts were slow, yet deep, and each time his tip was pressed to your cervix.

The feeling of it, thought it hurt some, was extremely pleasureful to you, and a whine of, “Faster, please,” exited your lips. Satoru’s brows furrowed slightly as he grinned. “Alright, darlin’ but when you can’t walk in the mornin’, don’t blame me!” He pulled out a little before pushing his hips into yours. He delivered you those deep strokes, just at a much faster pace.

Your tits bounced, body propelled forward as he held your thighs for stability, his dick stretching you out, stirring up your guts. The angle from the pillow only heightened your pleasure, and each thrust forced out a blissful whine or a whimper of his name from you.

Satoru let out heavy groans, not scared at all to let you know just how good you felt around him. And even better, he leaned down to let husky murmurs of praise fill your ears. “Such a good girl, takin’ me s’good… Like your pussy was made for me. You feel amazing, darlin’, wanna make you cum so bad… You feel good? Please tell me ‘m making you feel good, baby girl…” His voice was breathy and desperate in your ear, as you struggled to form the words he wanted to hear. “Please, baby? S-Shit, let me know how good ‘m making you feel on your birthday.”

His words only drive you crazier, head spinning as you gasp out, “Makin’ me feel s’good, Satoru! P-Please, please, please don’t stop, oh my God!” Satoru cursed under his breath as his hands slid from your thighs to your breasts, squeezing at them. His fingers circled your nipples, before he pulled, twisted and rolled them between his fingers. It only shoved you closer to the edge, as his tip briefly pressed against your g-spot. The brief gasp you gave from it let Satoru’s perceptive ass know, and he angled his hips to hit that spot, instead of your cervix.

The sound of your hips colliding filled your ears, along with Satoru’s raspy moans. Within no time, you were alerting him, “Toru, ‘m gonna c-cum again!” The third orgasm you had in a row, and it seemed like Satoru wasn’t stopping. He chuckled, moving one of the hands on your tits to swirl your clit in rough circles. “Mhm, go ‘head, sweet thing. Let go f’me.”

It pulsed underneath his finger pad, as your third climax seized your body. Your breathing heavy and quick as you let out gasped out, long moans and wails, your pussy clenching around his length as you creamed around him. Euphoria was spreading through you, to every part of your body.

Satoru’s eyes widened as he fucked you through your orgasm; his own was catching up to him, and it had him letting out deep whimpers mixed with his moans.

“Can I cum in you?” He gasped, hands gripping your waist. His nails digging into you so hard, crescent marks were being left on your skin. “Please, baby? Fuck, need to cum s’bad, and I wanna see my cum dripping from your pretty pussy…” He shoved his face into the curve of your neck as he began to beg. “Please, Y/N, wanna feel you around me while I fuckin’ cum, I-I need it, please, you feel s’perfect and I just wanna fill you up and watch it slide out. Wanna pump you full over and over until you’re filled with my babies—“ Satoru was rambling by now as he bucked desperately into you. He let out a shaky whine against your skin as your bodies collided passionately.

Your sensitive body quaked in his hold as he pleaded to cum in you. You couldn’t deny him, not when there were tears budding in his eyes, and his swollen dick was fucking you up like this, and he looked so pretty whining out your fucking name. You gave him a nod, even though your brain was foggy and you could barely care about what you were saying yes to.

Satoru let out a sigh of relief, moaning out, “Thank you, princess, thank you, thank you, love you, I love you—“ The feeling you got when you felt that first spurt of cum fill you was unbelievable. Warmth spread through you, as Satoru’s dick twitched and bobbed inside of you, before he was releasing his thick cum into you.

Just like he said he would, Satoru stuffed you full of his cum. He collapsed against you, face in your titties as you both breathed hard. He pulled out slowly, his dick getting a little soft. In a heartbeat, he was spreading your ass so he could watch his warm cum trickle from your hole.

And just like that, he was hard again.

You watched with dazed eyes as his dick twitched, ready to go again. Satoru grinned at you, tilting his head as he said, “I’d eat my cum out of you right fuckin’ now, but I need to feel you around me one more time.” He scooped you up, maneuvering so he was laying back and you were in his lap again. “For every year you are,” he murmured, his finger trailing down your spine, “Is every round we go. Every position we swap. I can keep up… Can you?”

You knew you couldn’t. You knew you couldn’t compete with his stamina. But you nodded your head yes, and lifted your hips anyways as a mix of both of your cum slid down your thigh. “Mhm, baby,” he laughed a little, holding your hips as he guided you. “You can keep up? I’ll have you fucked dumb by round five. Maybe even this round. Hopefully ya last, birthday girl.”

Before you could even respond to his bravado, he pulled you down, spearing you on his length. You let out a squeal, as you clutched his arms. You were still sensitive, and you made sure to whine it loudly. His hands moved to grip your ass, pulling you up and dropping you back down. His tip bumped your cervix s he did so, and you mewled, pressing your face into his chest.

“Nuh uh, sugar, you can last right?” He taunted, even though his breath was shaky. “Ride me. Right now.” He wasted no time with sliding in a joke, “You ride horses so well, I’m sure you can ride mine.”

You bit your lip as you planted your feet into the couch, using your lower body strength to pull your body up. You began to bounce down on him feverishly, immediately setting a fast pace for yourself. Satoru hit all the spots you needed, and you felt your fogged brain saying that you should’ve fucked him much longer ago.

Satoru cupped your ass as you rode him, stuttered breaths leaving him. “Oh, s-shit, baby, yer goin’ so fast—!” He gasped, your pussy clamping down on him like no other. You kept going, ignoring him, as if you were using him. You had something to prove. You purposefully clenched harder around him, intent on making him cum first, to prove he was the one who couldn’t last.

Satoru, unfortunately, quickly picked up on what you were doing. His hands gripped your hips once more as he huffed, “Sweet thing’s got a vendetta. Mm, fine. I’ll bite.” His heavy lidded lapis eyes peered at you as he began to thrust upwards to meet your bounces, tip jamming against your g-spot. The only noises that left your mouth were squeals, the little bit of control you had dissipating.

Satoru quickly regained his control as he fucked up into you, watching as your tits bounced and your eyes rolled back. Your sweat covered bodies merged, and his eyes were fixed on the way his dick slid in and out of you, and the cum coating his length. The noise of him pounding into you seemed to be amplified. For another time, you felt yourself reaching a climax, stomach tightening as your jaw went slack. It was coming so fast, you couldn’t even alert Satoru.

You let out strained moans of pleasure as he continued to fuck into your sensitive pussy, bringing you to the peak of ecstasy for the fourth time. The throbbing sensation in your clit, though slightly painful, only added to the intense pleasure coursing through your body. Each orgasmic wave that washed over you was a testament to the overwhelming pleasure you were experiencing.

Finally spent, you dropped against him, whimpering pathetically as he continued to use your body like a cocksleeve. Tears filled your eyes as he pushed past your sensitivity, fucking into you like a menace. You knew he had stamina, but God, this was insanity. His hand wrapped around your neck loosely, tilting your head up to look at him.

The sight Satoru laid his eyes on was heavenly. Your hair was mussed, starting to sweat out; your makeup was becoming messy from the tears beginning to slide down your face. Your lip combo was long gone, though there were remnants on both his lips and yours. The sight of your tears only fueled him, as he kissed them away. “Thank you for letting me have your body like this, pretty. Pussy was made for me. Just divine, you’re jus’ divine.. Gonna marry you and then ‘m gonna fuck you so much that your body wouldn’t be able to escape pregnancy— You want my babies, don’t you? Say yes, tell me you want me as much as I want you…” Satoru was very obviously close, the trembling and the rambles were a tell tale sign.

You found yourself mindlessly nodding to everything he said, and it wasn’t long before he was shooting another load deep into you. You thought he was done, before he was grabbing your chubby thighs, hoisting your legs up, and locking your body into a full nelson position.

As he drilled his long cock into you once more, it was simply too much for you. You gave in, mind going blank as he slammed into you, filling you to the hilt. Your eyes were glazed over, tears still falling. Your mouth hung open as overstimulated whimpers left your lips. You came a fifth time, but you were so far gone, you didn’t even notice.

“L-Look at you,” Satoru said, his lips pressing against your shoulder, “Too much for you, yeah? Look so pretty like this, sweet girl. Fuck, fuck, fuck, ‘m cummin’ too quick—!” Satoru was overstimulated himself, but that didn’t stop him. As he came a third time, the both of your fluids slathered all over his dick as he dropped you from the nelson, and flipped you onto your hands and knees.

“Need more of you,” he rasped, spreading your ass as he messily spread his cum around your pussy and thighs, before stuffing you full once more. He pressed kisses into your spine, as he gripped your ass, fucking you from behind.

The sex was depraved, as Satoru fucked you like a man starved. You were too far gone, drooling into the couch as he fucked you like you both were dying tomorrow. But, it wasn’t long before he was finally slowing down, heavy balls squeezing as he began to have dry orgasms.

Finally, he pulled out, scooping your barely there, sex-addled body up and carrying you to his bed. He dropped down into bed, you on top of him as he threw the blankets over the two of you.

He pressed kisses to your face, and then your lips, as he whispered, “Even if we die tonight, then I’ll die yours, and you’ll die mine.” Somehow you managed to reciprocate, as exhaustion slowly claimed you. “So then, I’ll die here under you; every night, all night.”

The last thing you heard before you passed out, were Satoru’s whispered love confessions, and promises for the future.

Your honeymoon phase of the relationship seemed to be forever, although things in town got harder. People were more openly racist; vandalizing your home, your father’s grave, and your mother managed to somehow overwork herself to death. You were now alone, in an empty house, and with an empty heart. Save for Satoru.

Where darkness lingered in the corners of your life, he was the light that banished all of it. To escape, he often drove you to Nebraska, far enough but still close. The two of you found an abandoned house on the outskirts of the state. A single two-floor house. You loved it utterly.

Satoru was a bit of a criminal, stealing a bobby pin from your hair and picking the lock. Managing to get into the house, so you could see the interior. It wasn’t like anyone was there to care. When you were there, the two of you cleaned up the house, and pretended like it was your own place. It was the place where you found each other on a dirty mattress on the second floor.

Months passed. Then a year. Satoru turned twenty, then so did you. Like your last birthday, it was spent in love, and in a sex-crazed haze. You two pave your own road, feet weathering the trail to the house in Nebraska, leaving your mark. It’s in the spring, when you two are at the house, and Satoru gets on one knee, pulling out a golden ring with a bright diamond.

“When I came home after graduation, I told my mama I was gon’ marry you,” he said matter of factually, “She asked me if you knew that. I told her no, but you would eventually. So now, I’m askin’ you if you’ll bless me by being my wife.”

You screamed yes so loud, the two of you were sure you alerted others of your presence.

Your engagement angered the town. Although Satoru was a person of color too, they were sure he looked best with a white girl. It got to the point where they got violent with you. Calling you slurs, and being so racist, you became afraid to leave Satoru’s side.

But, it was okay — because you two stuck together, always.

You prepared for your wedding as best as you could in your anxious state. Satoru’s mother even bought you a wedding dress — from one of your favorite brands, Vivienne Westwood. Vivienne made the most beautiful wedding dresses.

However, your hometown was getting overwhelming. You couldn’t help but look over your shoulder at any given moment. Satoru knew it was time to go.

He told his mother that he had to get you out of here — there was nothing but pain for you here. He couldn’t let you live like this. She understood, more than anything. She handed Satoru a wad of cash, telling him to visit soon.

He bought the house in Nebraska. How he found the owner, you never found out. But he bought that fucking house, and you two packed your bags and you never fucking looked back.

Nebraska was nice. You didn’t go into town often because of your anxiety, but Satoru assured you it was fine. You loved your home. You loved your future husband. You were soothed, and nothing could ruin it.

Until one day, Satoru didn’t come home from visiting his mother. You opted out that time, feeling a bit sick, and not up for the long drive. You got the call from his mother. You barely remembered anything but the words, ‘Shooting. Hospital. Coma.’ And you were catching the bus to Alabama.

You never wanted to return home, but you had to. You didn’t let them turn you away or shame you. You joined his mother in the hospital. And soon after you got there, after you held his hand, and sobbed his name, and kissed his face, and as if he was waiting for you, Satoru Gojo passed away.

The story was that Satoru got into an altercation with a group of men who said some horrible things about you. Even when they threatened him with a gun, he didn’t back down. He was always so protective when it came to you, and it killed him. And now, you were the reason that he won’t come home.

The birthday wish you made didn’t come true. Because the love of your life was gone, and you were so alone.

You stayed for his funeral. Open casket. Unlike everyone else, you didn’t wear black. You wore your wedding dress, and a veil. You were a widow, even though you hadn’t even gotten married yet. You never would. His mother held you by the waist, crying silently as she guided you to his casket. And as you leaned down to press a final kiss to his dead cold lips, nobody said a thing to you.

You disappeared soon after, with gentle words to his mother.

You retreated to your house in Nebraska, where you needed him. Months pass, and you need him still. You rot away in that house, plagued by memories. His scent still lingers on his untouched clothes, and sometimes you open the drawers to smell.

His mama calls sometimes, to see if you��re doing well. You lie to her and say that you’re doing fine. When really you’d kill yourself to hold him one more time.

You manage to force yourself to go to town, to buy things. You cry every day, and the bottles make it worse — because he was the only person you weren’t scared to tell you hurt.

And you feel so alone. You feel so alone out here. You feel so alone without him. You’re so alone out here, and you miss him more than anything. Every day, waking up without him warming you, breathing air that he does not share, it breaks you piece by piece. You feel so alone.

More months pass and you turn twenty-one alone. And you realize you can’t continue life like this.

You feel so alone.

On your twenty-first birthday, you put on your wedding dress, the one you never got to walk down the aisle in. You pick up the pills, sobbing as you whimper, “I’m so alone out here without you, baby.” You down the pills.

You remember all of this as you die, life flashing before your eyes. You’re curled up in your bed, now clutching one of his shirts to your chest. It’s like you fall asleep, despite the toxicity causing your body to fail. You finally die.

You wake up in a garden of flowers. Lillies of the valley, to be exact. You look around wildly. Cloudless blue sky, and flowers to be seen for days. You’re in your wedding dress. Is this what the afterlife is like? An endless, calming flower field? A breeze ruffles you. You begin to walk. Time doesn’t seem to pass here, because you can’t tell if it’s been seconds or days.

You know you’re dead, but why are you here?

“Y/N?”

You freeze. You know that voice. Tears fill your eyes, and you turn slowly. There he is. That ruffled white hair, bright blue eyes staring into you. You see the tears that well in his eyes, mirroring yours. “What are you doing here?” He cries, and he’s rushing to you, and he’s gathering you in his arms, cupping your face. You’re shaking your head and sobbing, because it’s him, it’s him and he’s here and you can hold him again.

“What’re you doing here, dream girl?” He sobs and he’s pressing his lips to yours, kissing you as if you’ll fade away. The kiss is salty as you two hold on to each other, tears mingling. When the two of you finally break away, he’s still holding your face, as you sob out, “I was so alone without you, Satoru! I couldn’t do it, I couldn’t live without you!”

He sobs harder and holds you against his chest, which is bloodied. “You killed yourself?” You nod ashamed, but he didn’t yell at you, or judge you. He never, ever has. He holds you, pressing kisses into your face, your hair. “I’m sorry, baby. I didn’t want to leave you — I held on, I held on until you came, and I’m sorry I wasn’t strong enough to survive,” he cried into your hair, “Leaving you hurt so much. It hurt more than getting shot did. We were supposed to have so much time. We were supposed to get married and have babies and die together when we old a-and, we didn’t.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” you whimper back, as he squeezes you tight, tighter than he ever has. If you were alive, you’d be struggling to breathe. “But I wish you would’ve let it go. Let it go and came home to me.”

Satoru doesn’t respond, instead he’s pulling away to kiss you again. “I wish I did too. I would’ve came back to our house in Nebraska, where the world was empty, save you and I. But at least we’re here. I don’t know where it is, but this is where I’ve been. Waiting for you to come. I just want expecting it so soon.” He sniffles, obviously sad.

“I had nothing left for me,” you whispered, as the two of you lace your fingers together, “I needed you still. I… I was horrible.”

“I visited you in your sleep a lot,” Satoru admitted, as the two of you began to walk. “It was the only time I could. I watched you sleep, all the time. You slept with my shirts. It made me feel good.”

You lean against him, he’s warm and he smells just as though you remember. You two walk, for a while, talking about the future you deserved.

Until you reach a house.

A house identical to your house in Nebraska.

“Well, I’ll be,” Satoru whispered, obviously shocked, turning to look at you. Tears were falling down your cheeks as you smiled, whispering, “Guess you’re stuck with me, even in death.”

“Wouldn’t wanna be stuck anywhere else,” he pressed a kiss to your forehead. He pulled a bobby pin out of your hair, and just like old times, Satoru picked the lock to the door.

You two stuck together; in life and death, and you still call home that house in Nebraska.

#jjk x reader #jjk #⭒ ݁ . ໒꒱​ jazi writes #jujutsu kaisen #jjk smut #black fem reader #black reader #gojo satoru #jjk gojo #gojo x reader #gojo smut #gojou satoru x reader #gojo x reader smut #jujutsu kaisen x fem reader #jujutsu kaisen x black reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk angst #jjk x poc!reader #jjk x black reader #jjk x reader angst #jujutsu kaisen angst #angst #ethel cain #🎧

[frogsarecoolandsoamj]

✨Mouth full✨

Aged up! Billy and Stu x reader fic!

warnings: smut, foul language, knives, getting cut, blood, anal, vaginal sex, squirting, reader uses she/her pronouns, nicknames (ex: princess, sweetheart, pretty girl etc.) being recorded, dubious consent, oral both male and female receiving, choking, hair pulling, blackmail (kinda?) reader is also younger then both men. Oh and spanking

a.n: this took so fucking long, so I hope y’all enjoy

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT PLEASE AND THANK YOU!

You didn’t mean to get stuck in this predicament. Albeit an enjoyable one, with Mr. Loomis touching you and Mr. macher recording the whole thing on his phone. “This is what happens when pretty little sluts wanna get into someone else’s business, they get their pretty pussy played with until they’re all dumb and drooling, this is what you wanted huh? You wanted to get caught? Answer me princess, or I’ll stop playing with your cute little cunt.” Mr. Loomis growled into your ear.

This had all started when the 25th anniversary of the Woodsboro killings that were put to a stop due to Mr. Loomis and Macher having to kill Neil Prescott, which was the father of Mr. Billy Loomis’ late girlfriend Sidney. Another person killed was Mr. Macher’s girlfriend, a girl named Tatum, who was officer Dewey’s little sister. Billy and Stu (Mr. Loomis and Macher’s first names) were able to live through the brutal murders of Neil Prescott and survive to tell the tale, but you had suspicions. You’ve always had.

When the anniversary was announced to take place a Stu Macher’s old house where it all happened, your friend begged you to go with “Come on! It’ll be fun, I promise! It gives us a reason to go somewhere and meet them! You have to admit, they’re both SOOO hot!” Your friend squealed. You reluctantly agree to go, only because this could give you the opportunity to actually find out if those men were telling the truth from 25 years ago. Once you got there your friend rushed you into the house, where you were greeted by almost everyone from the town, including kids and even the elderly talking amongst themselves and having fun, you just didn’t understand how anyone could feel safe where gruesome murders had happened. You had gotten distracted and your friend was no where to be seen. So you took this as an opportunity to go and investigate the house a little. This led you to go into the house’s garage, where Tatum had been murdered by Mr. Prescott.

You quietly snuck in and shut the heavy door behind you. You turn on the lights and look around. It was clear to you that not much had changed for the past 25 years. The place had been collecting dust and once you looked over to the garage door, you saw what seemed to be where Tatum had been murdered. You knew that she had tried to escape through a doggie door, and was crushed, but my god it felt surreal to be in the same place where she was murdered. It made you feel absolutely sick and uneasy. You walked up to the doggie door cautiously and observed it. You kept reminding yourself ‘a girl lost her life here, and we’re throwing a party, she was murdered, so many people were murdered here and we are throwing a party.’ You finally got the the doggie door and bent down towards it, lightly touching against its frame. It made you feel even sicker and you felt like you were gonna cry. Once you finally stood up to walk away you heard his voice.

“Checking out the garage? You know, we have food in the kitchen.” You jerk your head around to look Billy Loomis smirking at you, one of his eyebrows now quirked up at you questionally. You felt uncomfortable, obviously. “Or are you just snooping around?” He teased leaning against the door frame, holding a beer bottle. You felt your face heat up and you look away.

“I’m sorry sir, I was just curious. I know what happened here in this garage and just wanted to see, wasn’t trying to be disrespectful.” You blabber out a bit. You heard him chuckle, which made your stomach flutter for whatever gross reason. You didn’t want to get flustered around this man, there was something wrong with him, and you knew it. As you were in your head for a moment he had already walked up to you, now infront of your face, almost blocking you from the door.

“Sir? There’s no need for that dear, you can just call me Billy.” He said with a sly smile. He held out his hand, which you took after looking at him with slight scrutiny. You shook his big hand, and he quietly laughed under his breath. “Anyways,” you stammer out, feeling like the atmosphere just got super heavy all of a sudden. “I should head back inside.” You say with a slight nod to the door, backing away from him and moving past him. He let you as you walked to the door. You felt his eyes stare at your back as you left. You felt uncomfortable during that whole interaction, yet you also felt excited, and kind of… turned on? No, nope, you’re just imagining things. You try to reason with yourself as you walk away from the door. You look upstairs to see the Party host himself, Stu Macher, coming down. You watched him look at his phone then around the room then at you. You’re eyes locked and he grinned. He made a beeline straight towards you.

“Nice to meet ya! Welcome to the party!” He says with open arms, in a welcoming way. His grin was big, and he had a handsome face too, even if we was 42, he and Billy aged well.

“I thought this was an anniversary sir?” You questioned him. He dropped his arms and chuckled and scratched his chin, and you felt someone staring at you again. But before you could turn to look behind you Mr. Macher started to talk.

“Yeah, but I think the word party is easier and more light hearted than ‘ Anniversary of the day a guy murdered a bunch of kids and died. ‘ you know?” He made a good point, making you feel kind of like an idiot. He laughed at your embarrassment, but not in a mean way. “ aw come on, lighten up. You look like Billy, he’s always got his panties in a bunch.” He jokes.

“I don’t think it’s appropriate to talk about underwear in front of such a young girl Stu.” Mr. Loomis said, now behind the you. You felt your stomach drop as Mr. Macher nods a bit. “That’s true, my apologies. Billy always has this looked like someone pissed in his cereal. Is that better?” Mr. Macher laughs again and you turn to see Mr. Loomis roll his eyes and then look at you with a grin which made you jerk your head away in embarrassment. You were kind of sandwiched between these two men and you could feel people staring a little bit. “Um, Mr. Macher-“

“You can call me Stu, princess.” You felt your legs shut a little at that nickname. You gulped down your unease and your slight arousment as you look back up at Mr. Macher’s face. “Stu,” you say cautiously. “Uh, can you tell me where the bathroom may be?” You asked. You felt a slight movement behind you and Mr. Macher look behind you. “Yeah princess, it’s upstairs to your right, second door.” He answers. You rush upstairs to get away from all the noise and go into the bathroom and lock the door. You look yourself in the mirror, you felt gross for getting all worked up by two men who you were sure had more to do with the murders. But here you were, your core slightly throbbing and your face all heated up and feeling stupid.

After a few minutes of calming yourself down you quietly leave the bathroom and start to head down the hallway until you hear Mr. Loomis’ voice in one of the rooms. You quietly tip toe to the cracked open door and listen while having your back against the wall next to it.

“You gotta admit, that girl was cute, she got all embarrassed when you called her princess. Fuck, the way your legs clamped together was adorable.” You heard him growl. He was talking to Mr. Macher in there, you knew it.

“Yeah she is pretty cute, you ever get her name?” Mr. Macher asks, and you pull out your phone to start recording this conversation. “No, but I’ll found out, she used to go to our old high school, you know? And Just before she came up here she was snooping in the garage, said she was curious about Tatum’s death in there.” Mr. Loomis said while walking around the room. You could hear his footsteps get closer to the door, which made you tense up.

“Tatum, huh? You think she’s gotta hunch about us? She wasn’t even alive when killed those assholes.” Mr. Macher said, making you drop your phone almost. Part of you felt like this wasn’t real and this was a trap and the other part felt slightly prideful. Because you were right.

“Shut the fuck up. Someone could fucking hear us for gods sake. I don’t need you blabbering that stupid fucking mouth of yours with the door open. Anyone could be listening. “ Mr. Loomis was now walking towards the door and was about to shut it, but froze when your phone went off with a fucking notification. Your blood froze as you felt both of the men in the room go silent.

You looked over as Mr. Loomis pummeled himself through the doorway and frantically look around and finally make eye contact with you. You were still holding your recording phone like a dear in headlights. His mouth was slightly open and he now was leaning against the doorway with a slight scoff. You stop recording and shove your phone in your pocket and smile sheepishly. “Hi?” You say awkwardly with a shake in your voice.

“Hi.” He answers darkly. He grabs you swiftly and before you can even process it your shoved into the room both murderers were in as you were shoved against the wall by Mr. Loomis. “Wanna explain what you were doing?” His grip tightening against your arms, making you squirm and whimper slightly. Mr. Macher now over Mr. Loomis’ shoulder staring at you as he locks the door with a sick smile. “I know what you did!” You blabber out, trying to kick against Mr. Loomis and wiggle away. “ you guys murdered all of them, you guys are monsters, you’re fucking psycho-“ you were cut off by by Mr. Loomis slapping one of his hands against your mouth.

“You’re gonna shut that pretty fucking mouth of yours or I’m gonna have to cut out that cute little tongue, you hear me?” He asks, his face now in yours, and you could feel his breath against your cheeks and neck. Mr. Macher was grabbing something off of a chair in the room but you couldn’t see what it was. You look back at Mr. Loomis and bite his hand, hard. “Ow, you fucking little bitch.” He curses, and your try to escape his grip but he grabs you by your hair and throws you to the ground making you yelp out of pain and surprise and was now looking over you. His hand was now bleeding and you smirk and fill up with a bit of pride. He kneels down and grabs your chin roughly and makes you stare at him. “Listen here you nosey little bitch, you wanna run your damn mouth and be a fucking ditz like Sydney was, I’ll fucking kill you like I did her.” He threatens. Tears are now spilling from your eyes as you feel Stu sit down next to you on the floor and look at Mr. Loomis.

“Or, we can shut her up a different way Billy. She’s gotta cute mouth.” You felt your blood freeze one more as you look up at him through hazy and watered eyes.

“What?” You asked dumbly. Once you blink away the tears, you see Mr. Macher with a phone. His phone. Mr. Loomis chuckles and grabs against your thighs, making you squeal. “Good idea Stu. I think we could shut her up a different way.” He grins as he subconsciously licks his lips.

“Hold still pretty girl or else.” You winced at the cold metal now placed against your neck and you heard the small beep of the recording button go off. Mr. Loomis was now eyeing your leggings and started to pull them off of your body.

“What the hell are you doing-“ you squeaked out before Mr. Macher moved the knife slightly, more to scare you.

“Shhh princess, don’t wanna have to cut this pretty little throat, then we won’t be able to fuck it. And that would be a shame.” He says with a smile in his voice. You felt gross when your body reacted to the nickname as he now straddled you from behind and Mr. loomis ripped off your leggings. “Well, well, well.. looks like someone wanted this.” Mr. Macher teased, his phone leaning in slightly to zoom at your clothed cunt.

“You’re so fucking pretty down there.” Mr. Loomis growled. He grabbed the fat of your thigh harshly, enough to leave bruises and flipped you onto your stomach, causing the wind to be knocked out of you. He grabbed your hip and lifted your ass up. “Stay.” He commanded. You obliged with a slight whimper that didn’t go unnoticed by Mr. Macher who still had the phone recording.

“Aw, what’s wrong princess? Scared?” Mr. Macher teases grabbing your chin with his free hand after tossing the knife to the floor and making you stare into the camera as Mr. loomis starts to unbuckle his pants. “Now don’t make too much noise, we still have a party going on downstairs, unless you want people to hear how much of a slut you are. Be a good girl.” Mr. Macher coos as he slips his thumb into your mouth making you suck on it. “Good fucking girl.” He praises with a groan. You heard the noise of a belt buckle jingling and then felt a harsh slap against your ass. This causes you to jolt up more into Mr. Macher’s lap as you whimper trying not to yelp out. Then you felt a hand caressing against your ass, and then another slap from the belt.

“Naughty fucking bitch.” Mr. Loomis growls as he strikes your ass again with his belt. It made a loud noise as you whimpered and held onto Mr. Macher’s shirt to ease the pain. Mr macher finally popped out his thumb out of your mouth and brushed against your hair to comfort you as Mr. Loomis struck you again. Harder. “Fucking naughty slut, you fucking need a punishment. This is what you fucking deserve.” You cry out when he grabs you off of Mr. Macher and takes both of your arms to tie them behind your back with his belt. You could feel his painfully hard erection against your chest too, which makes you moan slightly. Mr. Loomis grabs your face to make you look into the camera as Mr. Macher unzips his pants and you could see a tent in his boxers. You could feel yourself getting wetter at the second. God, what is wrong with you? You’re letting yourself get toyed by monstrous killers, and you fucking loving it. Mr. Macher stands up and walks over to you, pulling down his boxers. His cock slapped against your cheek, making you gasped out as both men laugh at your reaction.

“What’s wrong Princess, never had a dick in your mouth?” Mr. Macher teases, “I can change that.” He takes his tip and presses against your lips. “Suck.” He demands. Before you could you felt the cold piece of metal against your skin once more . You look down to see Mr. Loomis lightly grazing you with the knife Mr. Macher had earlier. Your eyes widen in fear and before you can say anything, Mr. Macher slaps you, getting your attention back to him with a gasp. “I gave you a command, do it or Imma let Billy fucking cut you up like the piece of meat that you are.” He growls with a smirk. You cry out in protest at the feeling of Mr. Loomis letting the knife cut against your thigh, letting Mr. Macher finally enter inside your mouth with a satisfied groan once the tip finally popped in. He jerked his hips making him go deeper inside your mouth, making you gag when he hits the back of your throat. And since he wasn’t small, the guy was huge.“Fuck, good fucking girl, take my fucking cock in that virgin mouth of yours. Good fucking girl, take it, take it all.” He laughs out with a deep moan, which makes your pussy clench around nothing. You felt the knife against your shirt and it being cut off your body as Mr. Loomis does the same to your bra. You were now completely exposed to these two men. Mr. macher kept face fucking you as Mr. Loomis moved his other hand to play with your pussy, you could feel him rub against your clit, which made you jump up slightly at this new feeling. This earned you another cut to your already bleeding thigh.

“Stay still or I’m gonna fucking gut you.” He warns, knife against your stomach. You kept as quiet as you could when he slipped a finger into you. This made you moan against Mr. Macher. “Fuck, you’re so fucking wet you little bitch. Oh my fucking god, I’m gonna fucking devour you until your doing nothing but screaming my fucking name, and I’m gonna make them all hear you.” He growls out as he adds another one of his thick fingers, moving them in and out vigorously as he curved them just at the right time. You were now moaning around Mr. Macher’s cock like a fucking slut.

“Good fucking girl, ah fuck yes, yes, yes!” Mr. Macher kept hitting the back of your throat, but then pulls out quickly and starts to jerk himself off, “open your fucking mouth.” He says, and you do as you’re told and open your mouth. He keeps jerking his cock until a strained groan comes from him and he cums onto your tongue. “Good girl, swallow.” He commands, breathless. You do, and it was salty and a bit unpleasant, but you couldn’t say no to him. Mr. loomis keeps pumping his fingers into you as Mr. Macher keeps recording, catching his breath.

“This is what happens when pretty little sluts wanna get into someone else’s business, they get their pretty pussy played with until they’re all dumb and drooling, this is what you wanted huh? You wanted to get caught? Answer me princess, or I’ll stop playing with your cute little cunt.” Mr. Loomis growled into your ear.

“Yes sir..” you moan out, which earns you a groan from him and harsher thrusts of his fingers. You felt a pool of heat build up inside you causing you to moan out more, “oh fuck, oh fuck, please, please!” You beg out, repeating yourself like if it was a bible verse as he keeps going, hitting your G-spot until you finally break. You squirted all over his hands and the wooden floor, crying out, breathless. “Oh fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck oh god..” you pant out.

“Good girl, good fucking girl. Look at the mess you fucking made all over my hands and floor. I’m gonna make you clean it up like the little slut you are. Yeah, yeah you like that? You want that? I bet you do.” Mr.Loomis whispered in your ear. Making you whimper at his words and you winced when he grabbed you by your hair and forced your face to the floor where your squirt was. “Lick it up bitch.” He growled, knife up to your throat now. You did as you were told and licked up your mess as he groaned at the sight, while Mr. Macher watched with a delighted grin on his face, getting the camera closer to your face as you finished up licking your squirt. “Good girl, now my fingers.” He commanded. He grabbed your hair again and yanked it, pulling your head back and making you cry out. This gave him an opportunity to put his soaked fingers into your mouth. “Suck.” He demanded. You obliged and did what he asked, sucking and rolling your tongue against his long digits.

Once he pulled them out of your mouth, a string of saliva still connecting between it and his fingers, he grabbed your face. “Unzip my pants, and take my cock out. Give me a real reason not to cut that throat of yours.” You nodded and with shaky hands unzipped them and pulled down his trousers to reveal his very hard erection that now slapped against his stomach. He was a good 8.5 inches (28.5 cm) long. You stated in shock for a few seconds but then snapped out of it and your mouth opened up for him, he grabbed the back of your neck and forced your mouth down, not wasting time with your feeble attempt to get used to him. Mr. Macher groaned at the sight of your eyes watering as Mr.Loomis held you there for a moment. He was lost in his own pleasure as you tried to pull away and get air. He didn’t stop until you were practically trying to pull away, and he thought it was hilarious seeing you struggle to breath. Once he finally let you, you could only get a small gasp in before he grabbed your hair harshly and pistoned his cock into your mouth, thrusting in and out like if you were a pocket pussy. He used your throat as a fuck toy, his thick veiny cock going in and out of your throat with such ease make you so fucking turn on that you moaned against him as he kept at his brutal pace. At one point he had let go of your hair without you realizing as he still fucked into that pretty throat of yours and slapped you with his free hand. “Yeah that right you slut, oh fuck yeah, take my fucking cock down that little and tight throat of yours. Fucking gag on it, yeah good fucking girl, good girl fuck. Keep going.” He praised as he reached over slightly and slapped your ass, making you moan louder and kept going. His breathing started to quiver and become shaky and his brutal paced slowed, he grabbed you by your hair again and shoved your face all the way down to his stomach. He came into your throat with a satisfied and sultry moan that makes your thighs shut and rub. Mr. Macher finally walked over, phone still in hand and pulled you off of Billy. You were coughing and trying to catch your breath. He still had his pants down and forced your face down to the floor and positioned the phone to face all of you while he grabbed your hips and lined himself up with you.

“Wait, wait, wait!-“ you yelled trying to push away with your hand weakly but he grabbed it. “I’ve never had sex before, I’m a virgin!” You cried out. There was a small silence before Mr. Macher chuckled darkly, and you knew that they didn’t care, you don’t even understand why you thought they would stop. You know you wanted this, needed this actually.

“Well that’ll change soon pretty girl. Open for me, will you? I wouldn’t want to make this more difficult for the both us yeah?” He cooed as he caressed your arched back and you did what you were told, with shaky legs you opened them up for him to enter. Mr. Loomis watched with his cock in hand and his as he licked his teeth.

“I can’t wait to see that pretty face of yours once you get filled with cock princess, you’re gonna look so fucking sexy when he stretches you out.” He smiled.

You tried to reach for something to hold but it was too late, you felt Mr. Macher start to stretch out your little hole with only his tip. You paused for a moment as you panicked and looked back before he slammed himself inside you. Your backed arched at the intrusion and the sharp thrust of his hips against your ass. Which dug against it as you silently screamed. You was too big, oh fuck he was too much. Both men were chuckling at your panicked and pained face as tears welled up in your eyes.

“Aw what’s wrong baby, can’t handle my cock in you? Your slutty little cunt is weeping around it, so I’d say you fucking love it,” he says with a quick thrust which makes you squeal out in pain from the swiftness and his blunt tip hitting your cervix, bound to break your hymen if you haven’t already. You threw you head back rapidly at his movements, and Mr. Loomis grabbed your hands and guided you to find some comfort on his chest before Mr. Macher started pounding into your pretty little cunt. You tried your best to brace yourself as Mr. Loomis petted your hair and you said a small prayer under your breath before Mr. Macher snapped his hips in and out of you repeatedly. The wild thrusting of his hips inside your tight little cunt sent waves of pain as you dug into Mr. Loomis’s shoulders for comfort, trying to keep yourself from screaming. He groaned with a smile at the pain you were giving him and licked his teeth.

“Your doing great baby, yeah look at that fucking slutty face of yours. You’re fucking crying and dripping all over the floor like the little whore you are. Fuck yeah, fucking take it like the little bitch in heat that you are.” He slapped your ass harshly making you yell out, but he covered your mouth. “Ah, ah pretty girl. Can’t let anyone hear you. Your ours now, only we get to see these parts of you, taste you, touch you, fuck you however we please.” He growled. Mr. Macher still thrusting into you anomalistically and you started to feel amazing once he started to hit your g spot. You started to see stars meanwhile Mr. Loomis started to inch downwards to pinch and play with your nipples, sucking and licking your left tit. You whimper out happily as your eyes started to roll back at the feeling of it all.

“Please, please sir, please. Fuck me, fuck me harder. Fuck, yes, yes, yes. Oh god yes.” You whimper out, with an angelic little tone to your voice. Both of them groan and you feel Mr. Macher pick you up off of Mr. Loomis and grabbed both of your legs with his arms and lifted them up and fucked up into you. Your cries and whines of pleasure filling the room as your nipples started to feel cold without Mr. Loomis’s tongue licking them.

“Yeah you like when I put you in a full Nelson? You fucking like having your pussy filled like this, huh bunny? You fucking love being toyed with. Look at that fucking face. You fucking enjoy this. Fucking come for me baby.” Mr. Macher demanded. You felt yourself about to come undine soon and all you could do was whimper out their names . “B-Billy, Stu…!” You cried out as one final thrust sent you into an oblivion of bliss and pleasure as your squirted all over Mr. Macher, yourself, and the floor again. White hot pleasure sunk inside you and twisted your stomach, making your pussy flutter around Mr. Macher’s fat cock.

“Good fucking girl! Good girl. Oh fuck yes. Yes good fucking girl.” Mr. Macher praises, still thrusting into your battered pussy. The overwhelming sensation of him still thrusting into you before you could come down from your high made you squeal out from the overstimulation. Mr. Loomis shot a glance towards Macher and stood up , grabbing your chin to make you look up at him.

“Oh we aren’t done yet honey, I haven’t got my fill of you yet. “ he said with a dark smile, causing you to whimper. Mr. Macher pulled out of you and laid you in the floor. Mr. Loomis got into position and grabbed you up and held up only one of your legs and you thought he was gonna fuck your pussy. You were sorely mistaken as you felt his tip press against your asshole.

“Wait, wait, wait! N-not there Mr. Loomis!” You cried out, which earned you a slap on your ass. You whimper out and squeeze your eyes shut due to the pain.

“I know which hole I want. Now shut the fuck up and take it like a good fucking whore.” He said as he slowly pressed inside of you. It made your face crumple up with pain as you looked Mr. Macher in his eyes, begging for a piece of comfort , which he gave you by holding you other leg and positioning himself up with your pussy again. You cried out at him pushing himself inside of you once more as Mr. Loomis thrusted himself inside of your asshole with ease. The feeling was painful and pleasurable at the same time. It kind of felt like both of them were rubbing against each other but you knew that wasn’t true, due to the wall inside of you that was dividing the two thick cocks pumping into both of your tight holes. It felt like your guts were being rearranged by their animalistic thrusts, into your hot and bothered body, with no remorse or guilt. Not a single thought about the pain you were enduring while they were both busy chasing their highs, using you like a fuck toy. You were only there for those mens pleasure, and you knew it. You clawed at Macher’s back and squealed when Mr. Loomis squeezed your ass for support as he kept thrusting into your tight, puckered hole. You felt like you were about to break your hip with how fast and rough they were being with you.

“Yeah that’s fucking right baby, you’re taking us so good. Yeah you like being fucked in these pretty little holes. Yeah fucking take it, take it like the little slut that was made just for us. No one else is gonna fucking have you but us. Just us, these tits,” Mr. Macher grabbed your left breast harshly, “ these are ours, your pussy, that tight little cunt that’s squeezing my cock so well, that’s ours too. And your ass, oh it’s only ours baby. Only our cum is gonna be in you, only our spit, only our tongues. Only us, got it bitch?” He grabbed your face with a smile, making up stare into the camera. You nodded weakly. “Good girl.” He praised, as Mr. Loomis thrusted harder into your ass. You screamed out for a second before Mr. Loomis slapped his hand over your mouth.

“Shut the fuck up before you get us caught. No one needs to hear your pretty screams but us. Got that?” You make a noise of compliance as they kept thrusting into you.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck yes please.” You moan out, you look at Macher and connect your lips onto his, kissing and sucking at his tongue. He was surprised by this but didn’t deny it. He pushed his tongue down your throat and fucked into you, your sweaty and hot body pressed against his as you kissed his hot and swollen lips. You sucked at his tongue as Mr. Loomis latches his teeth into your shoulder and sucks at your skin, earning a groan from your pretty little lips.

“You gonna come baby?” Mr. Loomis teases. You pull away from Macher’s lips, a string of saliva connecting before it falls onto both or your chests.

“Uh huh, yes sir. Fuck, please let me come, fuck please let me come. Yes please, please, please.” You whine out before Mr, Macher grabs your throat and makes you kiss him again, this time with much more force and hunger in his part.

“What do you say, Billy? She’s been so good for us. And she’s taking you so well, should we let our little whore come again?” He questions with a taunt after he breaks away from the kiss. Mr. Loomis didn’t answer verbally but gave a quick nod as he kept thrusting into you. Mr. Macher chuckles quietly and sets the phone against a dresser near you all, propping it up against it to look at all of you, still recording. He brings his attention back you you and smiles sweetly. He kisses your forehead tenderly then thrusts into you like an animal once more. You were caught off guard by it and felt like you couldn’t breathe for a second while the wind was knocked out of you with his thrusts. Mr. Loomis grabbed your hips harshly and bucked into your body wildly, almost toppling you and Mr. Macher over as he chased his own high. Mr. Macher laughs at Loomis.

“Ah fuck!” You scream out. You didn’t care if anyone heard you at this point, you needed to come so badly. So so so badly.

“Calm yourself Billy, she ain’t going anywhere.” Mr. Macher joked. Mr. Loomis didn’t find it funny and he bit your neck as he kept thrusting into like Mr. Macher. You were so close, it felt like you couldn’t breathe. “Gonna come soon, how about you, Billy?” Mr. Macher asks. All you could hear was a grunt from Loomis. You felt so close, so close, so so so close. Then snap. It hit you like a truck once you felt the white hot pleasure boil in you, it felt like a flash bomb went off in your body.

Grabbing onto Mr. Macher for dear life, you screamed out silently. Tears started to spill from your eyes as you felt yourself shake uncontrollably from the intense orgasm that had just happened. Mr. loomis kissing the back of your neck, pulled out of you, painfully slow so that you could feel all of this thick veins pulse inside one last time. Once he finally pulled out, you felt empty without him. Huffing and smiling, Mr. Macher picked you up and pulled out of you too, leaving you on the floor, heaving and breathing erratically. Your body flinched when Mr. Loomis lightly grazed your soft skin with his rough and calloused hand.

“You did so well, pretty girl. I might have to reward you.” Mr. Loomis said coldly. His tone made you shiver, even if your body was super hot. Mr. Macher picked up the camera and pointed at your fucked body. “Smile sweetheart, you look beautiful right now.” He laughed out. You put on a weak smile and laid your head back against the cold floor. Mr. Macher walked up to you and picked you up and put you on the bed in the bedroom. You were a bit annoyed they didn’t just fuck you on the soft, comfortable and warm place of this room. Nope, the floor was better apparently. Mr. Macher noticed your face switch from fucked out to slightly annoyed. “Sorry, we didn’t think of that earlier.” He sheepishly admitted, Mr. Loomis scoffing in the background. “Let’s get you dressed and back to your friend before she notices you are gone.” He smiled, kissing your bruised neck. You nodded weakly to this idea and stood up only shaky legs. Both men, surprisingly, helped you get dressed. finding you a different shirt, because they cut your previous one, and you had to your with no bra either. Mr. Macher, being the pervert he is, took your pretty little panties for himself. “I’ll get you a new pair, next time you come and see me sweetheart.” You looked at him with confusion.

“I don’t even have any of your numbers?” You stated. Mr. Macher put you back on the bed and grabbed your phone, and gave it to you. “Here, open it.” You do so with shaky hands and let him put both mens name in the phone and handed back to you.

Once you finally are able to semi walk, you, Mr. Macher and Loomis all left the bedroom to all go downstairs. People were staring and you felt like you were gonna explode from embarrassment. Luckily for you, Mr. Macher knew how to make the attention get off of you. “Thank you all so much for coming tonight, I’m glad y’all had fun! But that isn’t it, we got fireworks in the backyard! We’ll be starting them as soon as everyone is outside!” He stated loudly enough for everyone to hear. Mr. Loomis leading you to your friend. Before you can get to her and explain, he pulled you back slightly with a grip on your waist and whispered in your ear “ you tell no one about this, or I’ll show up to your house and kill you right then and there, okay?” You gulped and nodded. “Good girl, now go play with your friends, me and Stu will keep in touch..” he chuckles. You shakily walk up to your friend, who had been looking for you.

“Where the hell have you been? I was so worried for you. It’s not like you to just up and leave. Oh my god you missed it but I’m pretty sure Mr. Macher and Loomis fucked some random chick in this place! Isn’t that fucking crazy?” She said, you chucked nervously and smiled. “Haha, yep totally nuts!” You said, looking back behind you, Mr. Loomis now nowhere to be seen. You look back at your friend. “ Do you mind taking me home? I’m really tired.” You asked. Your friend complained about wanting to see the fireworks, but upon seeing your face, could tell how tired you really were. They also noticed your change of clothing too. It wasn’t hard for them to connect the dots, but kept quiet on the matter. Once you finally had been dropped off at your house. You fell into your bed and passed out for a few hours.

You were awoken to someone standing infront of you, wearing all back, holding something in their hands. You were still waking up so your eyes were blurry but you shot up and almost screamed until they covered your mouth. Your initial response was to kick them until you saw the mask they were wearing. It was white, and ghost like, it looked Distraught. You knew who it was. He laughed and took off the mask. Mr. Macher revealing his face and looking over to your doorway.

“She’s awake now Billy, come on.” Mr. Loomis walked in, wearing the same costume, holding a knife. You gulped and look back at Mr. Macher frantically. He laughed and grabbed your face. “Oh honey we aren’t done yet with you. We were just letting you rest.” He chuckled out. Mr. Loomis now joining both of you on the bed, take his mask off as well and hovering over you. “ we decided to be a little festive this time though. “ he laughed out.

You whimpered and prayed to whatever god would listen and prepared yourself not to be able to walk the next day.

~The end~ For now!

A. N : I’m sorry for any spelling errors, so I fixed some and added a bit more to make sense of some stuff. I hope y’all enjoyed this, and if you wanna recommend any ideas please do!

#billy and stu x reader #scream smut #billy loomis #stu macher fic #stu macher x reader #billy loomis x reader #stu macher smut #billy loomis smut #billy loomis x you #ghostface smut #ghostface x reader #ghostface 1996 smut

[music-royal01]

Time flies

Sully family x child reader part 2

Part one- Eywas mystery

The years following when the sully’s took you in up until the time when you had to leave to go to the Metkayina clan

~ age- 8 ~

Neytiri was teaching you how weave along with Kiri. It had been two years since Jake and Neytiri had found you. You had started calling the two your mom and dad with ease

“Mama can you help me please” you called out to Neytiri, your hands were stuck in the rope you were trying to weave into a net. Neytiri took one look at you and chuckled slightly

“come here little one” you kinda waddled her way trying not to trip on the longer pieces that were hitting your legs. Neytiri carefully unwrapped your hands and showed you the weave process again. This time she helped you more so you didn’t get your hands stuck again. Soon you had a simple, but effective net which you proudly showed Kiri

“Look I finished mine” your voice said happily showing your sister the next

“I finished mine too, I made a basket” Kiri said as she smiled

“We should use it to collect flowers Kiri!” She nodded so the two of you kissed your mom on the cheek and ran off into the flower field near by

~ age-12~

Neteyam , Lo’ak, Kiri and you were standing at the edge of the Hallelujah mountain

“It’s time to for you four to tame an Ikran” Jake said smiling

“Dad what if we fall” you say looking down and gulping. Jake pats your back softly “then I’ll swoop down and catch you, now go on you four”

Kiri is the first one to bond with an Ikran. She didn’t do it in the normal way though, she kind of befriended it?

Next was Neteyam, he tamed one quickly and efficiently. Within a few minutes he was flying around on his Ikran with ease

Lo’ak got thrown around a lot by the Ikran, he almost fell off when the Ikran flew down the mountain but he was able to connect his queue at the last minute

Finally it was your turn, the Ikran you had decided to try to tame was blue with streaks of purple. When you tried to get close she snapped at you ready to bite if you got too close, you had to admit that you were intimidated by the flying creature.

“Well here goes nothing” you said jumping on the ikrans back as she turned around.

The Ikran screeched and tried to throw you off as it flew into the air. Your hands struggled trying to grab your queue while still holding on to the creature. From the ground Jake was on his Ikran ready to grab you incase anyone happened and you fell off.

Finally you grabbed your queue and connected it with the ikrans. After a few minutes the blue and purple Ikran stopped thrashing and began to fly normally. You fly down to where your dad and your siblings were.

“You did great Y/N, but don’t scare me like that again” Neteyam said concerned about the fact that you could’ve plummeted to your death

“Don’t worry brother dad would never have let that happen plus Y/N way too good for that” Lo’ak said high fiving you

“Yeah she did much better then you two idiots” Kiri said as she wrapped her arm around your shoulder

Jake congratulated the four of you for doing so well. The five of you flew back to Neytiri and Tuk to share the accomplishments

~age-14~

The RDA was back on pandora and Quatrich, your dads old enemy, was back as an avatar. Right now because of your brother Lo’aks stupid need to see an old battle field him, Kiri, Tuk, Spider, and you were all being held hostage by Quatrich and his goons.

“Show me your hands girl” Quatrich said in very broken Na’vi, his goons had a gun to almost everyone’s head except Tuk who had a knife to her throat

You flipped Quatrich off as a way to show your five finger which made him roll his eyes. He had taken Lo’ak communication device a hours ago and had given your father instructions for giving himself up in exchange for you and your sibling. Suddenly you could hear your mothers signal, to anybody else it would just be interpreted as another sound of the pandorean jungle but to the sully kids it meant that their mother was near and ready to rescue them. Finally an opportunity to strike arises and Neytiri shots the guy holding Kiri with an arrow. Neytiri, Jake and Neteyam all spring into action. You, Tuk and Lo’ak bite the hands of your captors managing to distract them enough so that you could get away. Shots rang in the air and one of the avatars had Kiri but not for long as neytiri fired another arrow that landed straight into his chest. Neteyam almost gets shot while trying to rescue you guys but in the end all of the sully’s come out with minor injuries

“Where’s Spider?” Kiri’s voice trembled. At that moment everyone realizes that the human boy had been taken

“I’m so sorry kids, but I don’t think we can rescue him” Jake says, it hurt to see his children’s reaction more than losing Spider

That night you could hear your parents argue about what happened and how your dad just wanted to keep your family safe and the safety of the clan… which meant having to move, the RDA only cared about him and his family so if your family disappeared then both the family and the clan would be safe. You ran out of the hut, much to your parent’s surprise because they thought you and your siblings were asleep.

You sat outside of your home upset by your fathers words. You could feel someone sit down next to you

“I’m so sorry baby girl” Jake said wrapping his arm around you, you sob leaning in to your fathers embrace

“I don’t wanna leave dad, this is our home it’s not fair” your voice trembles

“I know baby, buts it’s for safety” Jake says looking black to see the rest of your family outside.

“You know what your father says, right kids” your mom says with a solemn expression

“Sully’s stick together” the sully kids say unenthusiastically

“Come on with attitude, I know you guys don’t want to leave but it needs to happen” Jake says hugging Tuk who was about to cry

The next day your father gave up his title of Olo’eyktan to Tarsem who sadly accepted. The entire clan was sad to see your family leave but they understood why you all had to leave

Everyone got on their Ikran, Tuk going with your mom, it took a few days to get to the Metkayina clan. When the sully’s landed they were surrounded by Metkayina, your father telling all of you to behave as some of the younger boys giving the family wary glares

“Look what is that? Is it supposed to be a tail” one of the metkayina boys says talking about Neteyam making some other metkayina laugh

You see Lo’ak entranced by a a girl walking out of the water and you just roll your eyes

“It’s too small how are they supposed to swim” the same boys say referring to your tail

“Do not Ao’nung Rotxo” the girl says, Lo’ak says hi to her and she smiles and looks away shyly

soon their Olo’eyktan (tonowari) came out of the water walking through the crowd to your family

“I see you Tonowari” your father says bowing slightly the rest of the family following his example

“Jake sully” Toniwari says as he acknowledges your family

Soon the tsahik came through the crowd her expression cold

“I see you, Ronal Tsahik of the metkayina” your father voice rang

“I see you Ronal” says Neytiri

“Why do you come to us Jake Sully” says Tonowari curious as to why forest people would come to their home near the ocean

“We seek uturu…” Jake says making the Metkayina gasp

“Uturu?” Ronal says surprised by your father statement

“…a sanctuary for my family” your father continues. Ronal walks forward after exchanging looks with her mate

“We are reef people. You are forest people. Your skills mean nothing here” the Olo’eyktan said as Ronal continues to circle your family

“So we will learn your ways, right” Jake said the last part directed towards his family

Ronal grabs your mothers tail and then Tuks arms

“Their arms are thin…” Ronal says walking and grabbing Kiris tail “…their tails are weak. You will be slow in the water”. Then she grabs hands hands raising them in the air

“These children are not even true Na’vi” she states as the Metkayina gasp

“Yes we are” you say upset. But she doesn’t care and just goes to grab Lo’aks hand and raises it to show his five fingers

“They have demon blood!” The tsahik claim immediately making the rest of the Metkayina more hostile towards your family. God how your blood was boiling at this point. You hadn’t done anything to this woman and she already didn’t like you and your family

“Look! Look” your father shows his hands “I was born to the sky people and now I’m Na’vi. You can adapt” he says turning back to Tonowari

“We can adapt” Jake says almost desperately

“My husband was Toruk Makto. He lead the clans to victory against the sky people” says Neytiri in an harsh tone as she looks at Tonowari.

“This you call victory? Hiding among strangers…” your mother looks down “…it seems Eywa has turned her back on you chosen” your mom hisses and Ronal retribution with a hiss of her own, you could see that the two were ready to fight at any second.

Jake cuts in between the two women apologizing for your mothers behavior claiming that the journey has made her tired and easily irritable and Tonowari changes the subject

“Toruk Makto is a a Great War leader. All Na’vi people know his story. But we Metkayina are not at war…” he turns to your father “… we cannot let you bring your war here” Toniwari says

“Look I’m done with war, okay? I just wanna keep my family safe” your father says holding Tuk

“Uturu has been asked” your mother says harshly

The Olo’eyktan and the Tsahik exchange looks before Ronal nods slightly

“Toruk Makto and his family will stay with us. Treat them as our brothers and sisters. But they do not know the sea. So, they will be like babies taking their first breath. Teach them our ways so they do not know the shame of being useless” you could see your fathers relief as Tonowari said these words. The family thanked him and he explained that his children Ao’nung and Tsireya will you and your sibling their ways. The boy Ao’nung had obvious protest but was shut down by his father and the Tsireya just smiled and showed your family around. The next few weeks we’re going to be hard.

———————————————————————

There WILL be a part three focusing on your time with the metkayina clan so pls don’t comment saying it’s a cliffhanger. Anyways hoped you enjoyed :)

———————————————————————

Part 3: Learning their ways

#metkayina #avatar 2 #avatar way of water #avatar tuk #kiri sully #neteyam sully #jake sully #neytiri #lo’ak sully #sully family x daughter reader #sully family x child reader #sully family x reader

[hotchswifey]

a little bit shy - rafael barba x reader smut

i wrote this like a year ago and never posted it???????? oml i kept thinking it was unfinished but like it’s 2700 words  😭 😭 😭 😭

 anyways i’m not rewriting it or even rereading it so!!! anyways, this is shitty but it’s mine so it’s fine

warnings: shy!reader, smut, vaginal fingering, reader is a virgin (par hand stuff she’s done with rafael), reader owns a bookstore/cafe, written with an age gap in mind (rafael is like ?? 40?? 45??? reader is like 23/24), rafael is a babe and i love him, your honour, also rafael is a brief man and nobody can convince me otherwise, also like the office spoilers ig??? but nothing major, daddy/papi kink, the reader may have a slight humiliation kink (it’s self-projection babes), also the translation is through google so sorry if it is incorrect!

(word count: 2740)

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You sat on the counter of your café, reading one of Stephen King’s books. You had closed up at 19:00 like you did every day (par Sundays where you closed up at 17:00); however, you had stayed behind in your store, deciding that you would leave when the rain cleared up - which, it hadn’t. You looked at the grandfather clock standing up against the wall - quarter past nine. The time had flown by as you were too engrossed in your book to notice the world outside and join the world written on the pages. You sighed as you jumped off the counter, folding the corner of (what was now) your personal copy of Doctor Sleep, realising that the weather would not get better anytime soon. Grabbing your hoodie (while cursing your past self for not bringing a coat to work), you turned off the lights, ensuring the ovens and such were also turned off. You grabbed your keys, preparing for the harsh weather, before stepping outside (albeit reluctantly). The rain hit your face harshly, the wind almost making breathing impossible, as you made your way quickly (or as quick as the wind would let your body move) down the sidewalk. You should have probably just called an Uber as you got to the corner of the street. But, then again, you had money to return to the shop. You halted on the corner, debating it but rejecting the idea. You were already soaking from being outside for a few minutes, so what were another... 20... to your apartment. It took you about ten seconds to go to Rafael’s apartment. You had only been dating for a couple months, but his place was, at most, ten minutes away from your shop, and you were freezing. You rushed down the sidewalk until you got to his building, standing underneath a roof; you quickly texted him with trembling fingers, asking if he could let you in, figuring he wouldn’t hear your voice on the intercom system due to the wind. The door buzzed open within seconds, which you were highly thankful for, and you made your way to the elevator, which you took to the top floor. Rafael answered the door after you knocked, still in his suit (confirming your suspicion that he had not stopped working even now; you were pretty surprised he was even home, as he was usually spending all his free time in his office). His eyes went wide immediately, taking in your wet form. “Hermosa, wha-” he cut himself off (something you didn’t know he was even capable of doing) as he opened the door wider for you to come in. “You’re soaking,” he said as he reached for the zipper of your hoodie. “Really? I hadn’t noticed,” you quipped back as you slapped his hands away, grabbing the zipper to try to pull it down, but you couldn’t quite do it with your trembling hands (which were a dangerously dark red). Rafael grabbed it again, slapping your hands away this time, pulling the zipper down and peeling the fabric off your skin as it stuck to you. “What were you thinking?” he looked down at you sternly, causing you to roll your eyes. “Calm down, I’m fine-” “You’re going to get ill,” he interrupted, taking your phone from you and placing it on the coffee table face down (which seemed to be his way of telling you I’m taking this because you are almost vibrating from how cold you are, not because I’m going to look through your phone, Hermosa). “you need a shower.” “I’m fine!” you argued, and Rafael looked at you with a deadpan look. You stared at each other for about ten seconds before you gave in, mumbling quickly, “Fine.” He walked you towards the bathroom as if you didn’t know where it was and opened the door for you. A quick “thank you” later, and you were peeling off the rest of your clothes before figuring out how to turn on the shower. After about a minute (which felt like an eternity, considering you were feeling hypothermic), you grabbed a towel before heading back out to find Rafael putting your hoodie in a washing basket. “Rafael?” he turned around at that, his eyebrows furrowing - he was cute when he was overly concerned. You suddenly became aware that you were naked and blushed heavily, “How- how do you, um, turn the... shower on?” Once he showed you and left the room, you basked in the water, feeling your previously numb fingers returning to life. You were highly aware of how long you were in the shower, not wanting to waste water or heat or anything. As well as the fact that you couldn’t stop thinking about how you were only one wall away from Rafael - totally naked. You took his (very expensive looking) shampoo and soap, cleaning yourself and your hair, before turning off the shower and leaving. Only then did you realise that you had no clothes - unless you would put on cold, wet ones. You wrapped the same towel around yourself before sheepishly entering the bathroom. Rafael smiled at you from his seat on his couch, his work abandoned on the dining table, his suit jacket on the back of one of the chairs and his tie looser than when he had answered the door, and a glass of scotch in one hand and the tv playing Netflix. “I don’t- um, I- I don’t have any... clothes,” you stuttered, looking down at your feet and fiddling with the towel. “You can borrow one of my shirts,” he said, as if it was the most casual thing ever, like you two always did this. he got up, pausing (in what looked like) the office (which you had convinced him to watch after it came to your knowledge that he had never watched it), and began to pull out a shirt from his drawer in his bedroom, handing it to you, which you thanked him for, still blushing from your current predicament. He went to leave before you spoke again. “I- I don’t have any-” you stopped talking, blushing too much before you could say ‘panties’. “You don’t mind wearing mine, would you? Because, you see, I don’t have any panties,” You blushed at his bluntness but shook your head to say, “No, I don’t mind. When, in actuality, you did mind, but only because the thought made you feel hot. Like everything else had once you had made your way into his apartment. You were naked. And, now, you were going to wear Rafael’s clothes. He left for you to get dressed; you shut the door, making sure it was locked, before you dropped the towel, pulling on his briefs and shirt. His shirt was white, and as you looked in the mirror, you realised that, yes, he could definitely see your nipples through the shirt. You buttoned three buttons before turning around and checking how much of your ass it covered. Thankfully, it fell to your mid-thigh, and even more, it smelt like him. You exited the bedroom, turning to close the door behind you softly to not disturb Rafael’s Netflix. What you didn’t see, with your back turned, was Rafael staring at you (specifically, your ass) and licking his lips. As you turned back around, you saw him sit forward and place his free hand (the one without scotch in it) on his knee - unbeknownst to you, he was trying to hide his growing member. You smiled at him, which he returned, and joined him on the couch, sitting about a foot away. You were right when you thought he was watching the office. He was currently watching Jim fax Dwight messages from future Dwight. You brought your legs up to your chest, sitting back on the couch. I watched as Jan told Michael that the branch was closing. “Would you like a drink, cariño?” he asked, making his way (very quickly, you noticed) behind the couch, as you watched the TV. You looked up at him, smiling, asking him for some coffee. He kissed you on the forehead, causing you to giggle, and then started on your coffee. But you swore as he turned around that he was... hard? Your eyes widened, and your cheeks grew hot as your head flew forward to stare at the TV. A smile grew on your face, and you tried to hide it multiple times, but you just couldn’t; it was... cute. Rafael was unbelievably cute right now - plus, his ears were pink, which made him look... well, adorable. You made sure he couldn’t see your face as you smiled widely, but you realised you were failing when he said; “What’s happening?” “What?” you turned to him, still smiling. “In Scranton,” he said, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world, which it was, but you weren’t focused on the TV. You were focused on what was going on behind the kitchen counter he was standing behind. “Oh, right, there,” you said, although you were sure you sounded teasing, which you must have because Rafael’s eyebrows furrowed. “What’s that supposed to mean, ángel?” he asked, coming back to join you on the couch, handing you the coffee. He sat closer to you than you had previously sat next to him, not that you minded - you wanted to sit on his lap, not next to him, but you’d settle for this. “Nothing,” you smirked as you glanced at him - his trousers were still tight. Your eyes went wide momentarily, but it was enough for Rafael to notice. “What?” “What?” you sipped your coffee, covering your smile as you looked at him. he narrowed his eyes at you before putting his arm around you, bringing you into his chest. He put the coffee on the table for you, looking down at you as you turned your head completely to look him in the eye. “You’re hiding something.” “Am I, counsellor?” You moved your legs over him, and he pulled you onto his lap, causing you to yelp and him to chuckle, burying his face in your neck, nipping and kissing at your skin. Your cheeks began to burn again as your smile and teasing attitude disappeared, replaced with whimpers and gripping onto the hem of your (or, rather, his) shirt. You did notice, however, that you weren’t exactly on his lap but on his legs. Which meant he thought you hadn’t noticed his... situation. “What are you hiding, cariño?” he began to kiss further down, kissing at your collarbone. You reached down to palm at his slacks, the office still playing in the background. You heard his breath hitch, and his head flew up to look you in the eye. “What are you hiding, counsellor?” you grinned at him, blinking through your lashes. His ears burned, as well as his cheeks, and he looked pretty shocked, too. However, he quickly recovered. He smirked at you, gripping your wrist, causing you to pout. His lips found yours, and you whimpered into his mouth, causing him to smirk again. “I’m not hiding a thing, cariño,” he said against your mouth, moving your hand back down to his bulge. He hummed against your mouth as you squeezed him lightly. His hand gripped your thigh, the other resting on your cheek as he deepened the kiss. You whined into his lips, putting your hand, not playing with his bulge, on top of the one on your thigh. “Please, Rafael,” you whimpered. His hand on your thigh began to creep up your leg, coming up to the waistband of your briefs before slipping inside. That was new. Sure, you had done things with Raf before, but he was always very... slow. He just wanted to ensure you were completely comfortable with what was happening, but now? Seeing you in his shirt? His fingers teased your entrance momentarily before he gathered your slick and began rubbing at your clit with steady circles. Your hand immediately gripped his wrist, your fingers not even managing to close around his arm. Your back arched, your tits pressed against him, and pathetic whines fell from your lips. His lips were attacking your neck and collarbone, marking you. “Oh, god,” you whimpered out, his fingers beginning to speed up, his other arm wrapped around your waist to keep you against him. Your fingers, the ones not around his arm, gripped his waistcoat. His rubbing sent impulses up and down your body, your vocal cords working on their own accord and your limbs twitching. “Please, oh, god,” his fingers and mouth were the only things you could focus on, and the rest of the world fell away. You were becoming incoherent with your words, that much you were aware of, as you mumbled out, ‘please’s and ‘fuck’s. You were pretty amazed you had stayed coherent for that long, considering that you were usually a mumbling mess of a woman who couldn’t make eye contact or stop blushing when he touched any part of your skin. You brought his face up from your neck, wanting to kiss his scotch-flavoured lips. The passionate kiss did not stop you from whimpering against him or prevent you from moving his hand away from your clit and towards your entrance. "estás tan necesitado, ¿no es así, cariño?" his tone was teasing, though you had no idea what he was saying. You moaned as his fingers edged around your entrance, and you dropped your head into his neck to hide the growing blush, your eyes fluttering shut. Your hips bucked as best they could in the position you were in. You whined when he took his fingers away from you; however, after he had moved you onto his lap (and, therefore, on top of his hard-on), his fingers continued their previous actions. He sunk one finger into your heat, causing your hold on his vest to tighten and your other to clench as you lifted it, trying to decide what to do. Your legs fell wider as Rafael curled his fingers into your sweet spot (and, of course, he knew exactly where that was, despite only having done this a couple of times). “Please, Rafael,” your voice was heavily muffled by the fact that you were pressing your face against his neck. Still, he must have heard you because he added another finger into you, rubbing against your sweet spot with two fingers whilst his palm ground against your clit. “please, papi,” you mumbled out, causing Rafael to stutter in his pleasing ministrations and his cock to twitch. You immediately seized up, your eyes flying open against his neck. However, Rafael’s fingers continued without hesitation, his other hand moving to your ass and squeezing it, pulling you more towards him. He hummed against the side of your head. “Papi, cariño?” your cheeks flushed, the embarrassment of the situation catching up on you. Your hold on his vest tightened, and you were sure you were seconds away from tearing it. You whimpered against his skin, the humiliation only contributing to your impending orgasm. Rafael smirked down at you, loving how you looked, squirming and whimpering on his lap. he loved that you were shy. You were adorable when you were blushing and stumbling over your words whilst you looked everywhere but him. When you called him Papa? he almost groaned aloud. He could feel you pulsing around his fingers, your legs spasming and back arching. Taking his hand away from your ass (and slightly lifting one of his legs to not make you fall), he unbuttoned your shirt, kneading one of your breasts. Your whimpers turned into moans, gradually increasing in volume and frequency. “That’s it, Hermosa, cum on papi’s fingers."

#rafael barba x reader #rafael barba #law and order svu #svu #rafael barba smut

[bloodynereid]

Forgotten Snows

pairing: cate dunlap x fem! reader

tw: mentions of andre, running away, swearing, kissing... that's literally it probably wow

description: cate decides to run away from her supe life, only to find a welcoming new home and maybe something more?

a/n: this low-key feels very rom-com-like lol. also sry for not getting to requests, this idea got stuck in my head and would not leaveee so i obv had to write it. hope you enjoy and lmk ur thoughts <3 ALSO WE NEED MORE CATE FICS PLS

Cate quickly readjusted her gloves and blew a few strands of blonde hair out of her face. The strong ocean wind beat relentlessly against her exposed cheeks and she cuddled closer into her thick white knit sweater. The cold of the metal railing bit into her arms, making Cate smile. She actually did it. She finally left.

After exposing The Woods and God U for what it was, Cate had made the executive decision to run away. She had caused so much hurt even when all she ever wanted to do was help people. The only person she told was Jordan. Her best friend who had clearly understood what she needed to do. Cate didn’t even tell Andre, fearing that he would somehow convince her to stay.

She didn’t know if she even loved him all that much anymore. Sure, she will always hold him dear to her heart but after everything… So she had scrounged up all the money she had been saving up, somehow coming up with a substantial amount to allow her to buy a little house in a remote island of Canada. It was located near the waterfront (only a 20 minute walk!) and overall the population of the island was about 200 people. Perfect.

Cate had even managed to find a job. Granted it didn’t pay as much as she would have been paid if she became a career supe but it would let her live comfortably for as long as she wanted. The job consisted of being a book editor for a random little online publishing house, which meant she could work remotely and totally online.

The remainder of her money was spent purchasing charter plane and ship tickets as well as a new, much warmer, wardrobe. She was basically moving into the Arctic Circle, which meant that her usual cardigans and shirts weren’t going to cut it.

Snow crunched under her sturdy boots as Cate hauled up her heavy suitcase along the gravel paths. A few hours ago she had finally arrived in the port of the island that she would now call home. Somehow she had been able to catch a car that was making its way in the general direction of her new house. Unfortunately for her, that same car dropped her off quite a few kilometers from her destination, but she couldn’t blame the elderly couple who looked like they were eager to finally get home.

Her supe stamina was the only thing that seemed to sustain her as she traveled the paths, constantly looking down at the map she had downloaded into her photos. Cate knew that her Google Maps probably would not work at all until she got closer to her new house. She didn’t expect there to be any signal on this island, except near specific houses or the three tiny towns. 

The sun was starting to set by the time she had arrived at the path leading directly to her door. The lights inside the house were off but the porch light was on and smoke was coming out from the chimney. Furrowing her eyebrows, Cate turned to look at the house that sat a few paces away from her own and was surprised to see that a woman, about her age, was shoveling snow.

The woman had her headphones in but the gentle hum of her voice echoed through the expanse. She must be her new neighbor. 

Cate smiled slightly before starting up her trek again. Finally seeing her destination had given the tired blonde a boost of energy. The clear path leading to her porch allowed Cate to pull her suitcase up more easily and after depositing it next to the door, she turned to look at the woman. Gravel poked into the soles of her boots as Cate made her way to her. Picking up a gloved hand she lightly tapped the woman’s right shoulder.

Soft folk music echoed through your old headphones. Shoveling snow was monotonous but necessary work. Especially with the newest addition to the island coming today. Cate Dunlap. Unfortunately estate agents weren’t really a thing on an island that sat in the midst of the Arctic Circle. So you had been the one to list everything online and figure a way to sift through all possible applications, which ended up being pretty scarce. 

The second home, which your parents used to use as a guest house/office, had been listed for almost a year now. The only three applications you had gotten were from people who either seemed like escaped convicts or generally creepy men. Something that would not do if you were going to be living a few seconds away from them. But then a month ago a saving grace of an application arrived in your email.

Cate Dunlap, 21, single and was willing to move in as soon as possible. The letter that was attached as well as the recommendation made the decision for you. So here you were, after prepping everything inside the house - making sure it was warm enough and stocked up for the week, waiting for Cate to arrive.

What you didn’t seem to realize was that your old headphones were still pretty soundproof. The feeling of a hand against your thick work coat made a loud shriek come out of your mouth before you swiveled around, clutching your chest with one hand and pulling your headphones down with the other.

“Oh shit! I’m so sorry. I thought you-” Oh my God. Cate Dunlap was stunning. Her blonde hair was tucked under a black beanie and a white fisherman’s sweater peaked out from under her thick sage green coat.

“No, no I should be the one apologizing. I was literally expecting you, we just don’t get a bunch of people around here like… ever.”

“You were the one who did all this?” Cate asked as she gestured towards the house.

“Yup, I also stocked up food for like the next week or so.” Her mouth dropped in an incredulous expression.

“You really did not have to do that.”

“Of course I did! I sold you the house plus you deserve a warm-ish welcome to our wonderful little island.” You both let out a small chuckle and Cate continues to brilliantly smile at you.

“Wait, you were the seller? I didn’t realize that you would-”

“Also be living here? Yeah. Your new house was actually part of my family’s property since we built these two places. I’m just living here alone now, and I really don’t need all that space. So…”

“Woah, that’s so cool. It’s nice to actually have a local to help though, I haven’t lived in a place like this well ever.”

“I’ll be here if you ever need anything, and by anything I mean anything. Here, why don’t we get your stuff inside and I can get some tea ready?” You asked as you started to put your shovel away.

“Oh God yes, that sounds incredible right now.”

You pulled out a series of keys from your jacket pocket and swiftly got Cate’s house key out from the bunch. After giving the door a few firm pushes it flew open and the warm air started whooshing out.

“Here quickly, we don’t want the house to get cold.” You both laughed and Cate pushed her suitcase through the threshold. You pushed the door closed behind her and turned towards the blonde who was spinning around and marvelling at the surroundings.

Cate was completely taken aback by the house, she didn’t expect it to be so home-like already. Movie posters lined the entry of the house, stuff she had actually watched. The floor was hard-wood, which looked insanely expensive. Pulling her suitcase behind her, Cate took peeks at the different rooms that filled the house. 

There was a living room which was covered in books, a desk and had stunning paintings covering the remaining walls, this was also where the fireplace was set. A bathroom with a full bath and shower, completely covered in what looked like hand painted tiles. The kitchen was similarly decorated but this time with bright blue tiles and had full appliances plus a huge pantry. Finally there was a bedroom at the end of the house, it was simple and much less decorated but looked cosy. The bed was covered in a variety of furs and there was an antique closet and vanity set. A space heater was also placed on one side of the room.

“So what do you think?” Came a questioning call from the threshold of the bedroom, spinning around she was met with the slightly nervous expression of her neighbor, even if her eyes shined with kindness.

“Oh my God it’s fucking incredible. Did you decorate it all by yourself? I didn’t even realize- wait, I’m so sorry. This was so rude of me but I never asked your name.”

“I’m Y/N L/N, at your service.” Y/N said as she gave Cate a mock bow, making both of them laugh. “And yup I had some extra time after my parents died and well renovating was a great distraction.” You added in a slightly more somber tone, with a wistful look in your eyes.

“Oh shit, I’m so sorry.” Cate started to say as a sad look appeared in her eyes.

“No, don't be sorry. I- they both had cancer, which fucking sucks but I continue to do their work. I miss them you know? They didn’t deserve to leave the world so soon.”

“My parents are both absolute assholes but I understand where you’re coming from. My uh boyfriend… also died, he killed himself”

“Shit, that fucking sucks. I’m so sorry. Ok well let’s get some joy back in here. This is turning into a deeply angsty moment when we should be celebrating you coming here… so why don’t go unpack and I’ll get some tea on.”

“You really don’t have to do that.”

“I want to. Now shoo before I make you.” Cate shuddered slightly in pleasure as Y/N turned around and made her way to the kitchen. God, she thought you were absolutely drop dead gorgeous. How the hell was she going to be able to function with you looking like that?

The next few weeks were spent in pure bliss for you and Cate. You spent nights at each other’s houses, binging movies on respective laptops or just curling up on the couch reading books. Life had slowed down a bit more for you than Cate job-wise because summer season was coming to an end. That meant shorter days, less tourists and much colder nights.

“So you never actually told me what you do?” Cate had asked one night as you were tucked under the array of furs on your bed as wind and snow howled outside the window.

“Oh I’m a conservationist mostly but I also work at the National Park, giving tours and making sure the habitats of the animals are undisturbed. Other than that I also write a bit.”

“Ooo what do you write, I could get you a deal with my company.” Cate said as she twirled around in the bed to look at you as you threw your head back and a ringing laugh filled the room.

“I don’t think so. My stuff is absolute shit. It’s mostly short stories.”

“Oh come on, it’s not.” Cate said as she softly smacked your shoulder. “And you have to show me one of your short stories sometime.”

“No way.”

“Yes way.”

“No way.” That little playful argument was concluded when Cate pounced on you and started tickling you.

The first time that your relationship was tested (and very much strengthened) was on a random Tuesday. You had somehow managed to rope Cate into helping you with fixing up your little snowmobile. You sighed loudly and threw down the tools before moving your oil covered hands to smooth over your face, which was definitely a mistake. Now instead of just being frustrated you were also covered in engine oil.

“Shit, that looks…” You sent Cate a glare which had her raising her arms in defeat but still letting a small snicker out of her mouth. “Sorry! What exactly do you need help with?”

“There’s a damn bolt I can’t reach, I swear I need to get some kind of stand for this thing-” You cut yourself off as you watched Cate easily pick up the vehicle and turn to look at you. That was when she realized what she had just done.

“Okay, okay, so before you freak out-”

“How the fuck did you do that? Wait, are you one of those superheroes?” You asked quickly, it felt like the words were just flying right out of your mouth.

“I- uh fuck, yeah I am. Look, if you want to stop being my friend I’m totally fine with that. I’ll even move out-” Cate started to stutter out, panic encased her features making your face soften.

“Woah, woah, woah. Catey I think you’re fucking great. Who cares if you have a little extra something that most normal people don’t. Actually I think it’s pretty fucking cool okay? Don’t you dare leave.” You exclaimed with a passionate tone in your voice as you stepped closer and closer to Cate. You grabbed her hands and looked deeply into her eyes.

“I- I don’t want to leave either.”

“You bet your ass you don’t.” Cate let out a snort and smiled brightly at you. There was something in her eyes that made you take the next move. A move that you had been wanting to make ever since you first saw her.

Carefully moving your face towards hers, you watched to see if Cate was going to pull away, but she didn’t. No, instead she surged forward and grabbed your face with her soft gloves, kissing the very soul out of you.

It didn’t feel exactly like fireworks, it was so much better. It felt almost like experiencing the Northern Lights. An array of beautiful colors and sensations flew behind your closed eyes. It also felt like all your nights cuddled up in bed, sharing a hot chocolate that would sear your tongues with each sip. Cate felt like home.

whooo that was fun to write. i love her sm - anyways hope you all enjoyed it !!! if there are any inaccuracies, i literally tried to do a bunch of random research but i probably missed some stuff sry so just lmk.

#gen v #gen v fanfic #gen v amazon #gen v spoilers #andre anderson #jordan li #marie moreau #luke riordan #golden boy #the boys #the boys fanfic #the boys tv #gen v tv #maria writes #the boys series #the boys amazon #cate dunlap #emma meyer #cate dunlap x reader #cate dunlap fanfic #cate x reader #gen v x reader

[mrsquill]

Two Chances

Pairing: Joel Miller x Fem!Reader (Outbreak-Free AU)

Summary: You love your job at your local dog shelter, but weekends are precious to you. Enter Joel Miller and his daughter, looking to add to their family.

Notes: Well, here’s this. My first x reader fic! Based on a gorgeous little something @fuckyeahdindjarin inspired me to write a little while ago ❤️ I’ve tried to be as inclusive as possible here, but please let me know if I’ve missed the mark at any point. This, as usual, is short but hopefully y’all enjoy. Thanks to all those in this beautiful community who have inspired & helped me along the way.

Warnings: Fluff, reader has smutty thoughts about Joel cuz she’s only human (18+ minors DNI), no specific age of reader (but she is an adult), slight angst, discussion of parent death and awful fathers. Joel could potentially be a bit OOC here but *shrugs* I think that’s everything!

You couldn’t wait to finish your shift. Not that you didn’t love your job, but it was hot as balls out today, and all you were dreaming of was an ice cold beer and the pool in your neighbour’s backyard, nothing but silence in your surroundings. It’d been an exhausting and physically demanding day at the shelter - 25 dogs needing to be fed, watered, exercised and cared for round the clock. It would do that to anyone, let alone you, who’d taken this on as a part-time job and just kinda got stuck.

Your braid was falling out, sticking to the sweat pooling on your neck as you swept the concrete outside the kennels; straps of your white cotton camisole slipping down your sore upper arms.

Ten minutes, you assured yourself, silently puffing stray strands of hair away from your forehead and glancing at the clock. The raucous din of the dogs chattering to one another bounced off the walls around you. Ten minutes ‘til your weekend was finally yours.

Still, you could think of worse places to spend your Saturday, watching as the two newest arrivals - brother Boxer puppies, Thor and Loki - chased one another’s tails round their pen. The residents here shattered your heart and made it feel so full at all once; some having the most horrendous skin-and-bone start to their lives on the streets, others lasting only a couple of months with a family after being purchased as a barely thought-out Christmas gift. Gaining their trust could be hard, but it was worth it every damn time; nothing was more rewarding than those wet puppy kisses after hours of gentle coaxing.

“I’m heading out, hon,” Mo calls out to you with a wave from the makeshift office at the end of the kennels. “See you Monday!”, you reply with genuine enthusiasm, as you watch your boss head off in the direction of her house. You loved Mo; she had a way with all animals that you were sure would guarantee her entry to the pearly gates one day.

She curated a home for the dogs here that you were more than happy to assist with. Being just the two of you, things could get a little intense, but you were fond of each other, and had no qualms about alternating who would close up on the weekend.

A couple more minutes go by as you absent-mindedly check off the few remaining tasks on your list, head more full of the decision of which Ben & Jerry’s flavour to pick up at the gas station on the way home. It’s then you hear the crunch of the gravel outside as a car pulls up; silently cursing as you note the time. 5:01pm.

Sighing, hating the notion of turning anyone away, you dust down the front of your cutoffs the best you can and chewing your lip uncertainly. You guess you can spare some time; if these people are serious about adoption, it’s a win-win situation for everyone involved. The traffic through the shelter was steady, but you could always be doing better. It’s sad to see a dog go - of course it was - but seeing them head off with their new family was all the reward you needed in the world.

A pair of footsteps and muted chatter come round the corner from the parking lot, and suddenly you’re doing everything you can not to openly stare at the man approaching you on the concrete, a girl of around five or six that you can only imagine to be his young daughter swinging off his hand.

It’s not that he’s especially tall or anything. But man, is he broad. Strong shoulders under his denim shirt, biceps nudging lovingly against his sleeves. Not the kind of muscle from the gym, though; no, this guy clearly spends his days outside doing something physical, judging by the dust on his boots and the worn material of his jeans at the kneecaps. The idea of him, sweaty and shirtless and perhaps a hammer in hand, has you feeling like you need to grip the walkway rail a little harder. Pathetic, you reprimand yourself internally. You don’t think you’ve been this bowled over by a gorgeous man since your grandmother sat you down to watch Indiana Jones as a kid.

You sneak a look at the smattering of hair at the base of his thick neck; his rugged jawline, beard creeping over just so. He runs a hand through his curls, and he catches you staring. Fuck. He looks back down at his daughter; and you’re all at sea after looking into his eyes. Darkest brown, drinking you in. You draw yourself up to your fullest height and grip the broom a little harder as they reach you. It wouldn’t do to be caught - again - staring at him like some lovestruck teenager.

“We’re too late, ain’t we?” he chuckles, narrowing his eyes in anticipation of your response. “Not at all!” you smile, perhaps a little too brightly, and you can tell he doesn’t believe you by the quirk of his brow. “This one was none too happy with me makin’ her wait till the weekend to come here, so thank you for seein’ us,” he murmurs, gesturing to the girl beside him as she grins at you shyly, one front tooth missing.

You introduce yourself to them both, trying to ignore the flutter in your stomach as his large hand envelops yours easily. “‘m Joel, and this here is my daughter, Sarah,” he nods affectionately towards the young girl; her eyes already shining with excitement as she catches sight of the two Boxer puppies gambolling around behind you. “Would you like to meet them?” you ask Sarah, and she nods so enthusiastically you worry her head may fall off.

“We have an enclosed meadow out back,” you point your thumb behind you, “and we can take these little guys over there, if you’d like?” you offer, and Joel grins. “Only if it ain’t too much trouble, sweetheart,” he murmurs with that Southern drawl, and suddenly you feel all your earlier desire to head home evaporate like a creek in the summertime. You assure him it’s fine; and with both puppies soon under your arms with practiced ease, you head over to the meadow, Joel and Sarah in tow.

You find you hit it off with him instantly; first asking the important questions such as their living situation, if they’ve owned a dog before, or if they have any other pets at home. “Quite the questionnaire, darlin’,” he chuckles lowly, arms folded over his chest as you both watch Sarah giggling, legs crossed in the sunshine as the puppies climb all over her. He, in turn, takes it upon himself to ask you how long you’ve worked here, what it is you enjoy about it the most. Realising you’re here for the long haul - and not being one bit mad about it - you gesture Joel to sit at a bench with you; averting your eyes when his thighs stretch over the wood opposite you. Get it together.

“Sarah certainly seems to be a dog lover,” you smile to distract yourself, and Joel hums his agreement. “Would you be prepared to take on a puppy?”, you ask. “I’m sure you’re aware, but they do require extensive training - potty, obedience and socialisation.” Joel raises his eyebrows then, biting back a smile. “Ya think I’m gonna be able to walk away from here without one?” he says, indicating the scene before you both. “Just more questions I have to ask,” you tease lightly. Joel shrugs in defeat; rolling his shoulders, your eyes drawn to the sliver of chest hair peeking at you next to the buttons on his shirt. Stop, you remind yourself for the third time.

“It’s Sarah’s birthday soon, and I wanted to make this one special for her,” he confesses, and you hate to say it, but it needs to be done. “Joel.. Can I be frank?” you start, and those eyebrows are raised again. “I thought ya already told me your name, back there,” he points back towards the shelter, trying not to grin. “Funny,” you admit, before pressing on. “We have a lot of families coming through here; wanting to make a birthday or a Christmas special. I’m not doubting your commitment, but I’ve seen too many dogs dumped back at the shelter with little to no explanation after the excitement wears off,” you say, watching Loki snooze on Sarah’s knee whilst Thor tries to pull at the laces on her sneakers.

“Can you see where I’m coming from?” you ask tentatively; hoping not to come off as a total asshole to this man for more reasons than one. Joel exhales heavily, a calloused hand coming up to scrub over his face. He follows your gaze towards his daughter; and it’s then that you notice the true adoration in his eyes - he looks tired; exhausted, even - but the love there. Jeez. It’s really something. It makes you think of the opposite you saw in your own father: a dark road you’d rather not go down.

He begins to tell you it’s the first birthday since Sarah’s mom died after a short illness. They were divorced, but had joint custody, Joel mostly taking over on weekends. He’s trying to nail the whole solo parenting thing - trying, but feeling like he’s failing. He admits regretting not asking his late ex-wife so many things; how to care for their daughter’s hair full time, how to manage to get her to school and then to soccer practice without being late, how to essentially keep her alive, happy, safe. It’s then that you stop him; a gentle hand on his forearm. “I’d say you’re already doing better than you think,” you offer, not shy of your smile this time.

“I don’t know why I’m tellin’ you all of this,” he admits, “ya must just have that kinda face.” And you tell him it’s true; your grandmother always said you were an old soul, with a face people just wanted to open up to with no preamble, no filter. Maybe that’s why you and Mo get along so much, you ponder for a moment. “My mom died, too,” you say quietly, Thor having wandered over to the two of you, sniffing round Joel’s boots before slumping belly-up in the shade. “My dad - he, uh, he wasn’t so great. And not in the way you think you’re not great. He truly was the definition of an asshole,” you try not to shiver, despite the cloudless blue sky above you.

“‘m sorry that happened to ya,” Joel mutters, eyes on his knuckles as they flex instinctively. “It’s okay,” you shrug, “was a long time ago. I had my grandma, we did just fine. If you want my take.. There’s so many lousy parents in this world, and it’s better to have been loved fully, despite the loss that can and will come, than never at all,” you surmise; nodding your head toward his daughter, flat on her back in the grass with Loki on her chest, her eyes closed in a picture of perfect peace. The sight makes you smile.

When you turn to face Joel, you find him looking at you intently, shielding his eyes from the sun with his hand. It’s covered in scars; some faded with time, others fresher, just scabbing over. “I’m gonna ask ya for two chances,” he says, full bottom lip between his teeth. Your head cocks to one side, interest suitably piqued. “Is that so?” you ask, a fluttering in your chest that you can’t quite seem to stall. He nods, and you roll your eyes, biting back a laugh. “One,” he begins, “you give us a shot at this adoption. That girl needs someone else around who ain’t her daddy, and I promise ya I’d do right by that dog,” he points over to Sarah and Loki; his daughter whispering conspiratorially in the puppy’s ear. “I do think we have a winner there,” you admit, hands up in defeat.

“Two,” Joel continues, “could I ask ya on a date, darlin’? Assumin’ you’re not spoken for?” he asks, quieter than before. Almost.. shyly. It seems strange; like a skin he wants to shed, only used to being the most commanding person in the room. “Ya know, to keep an eye on our progress ‘n everythin’,” he adds quickly, before you can open your mouth. You feel your belly squirming at the idea of seeing this man again; your gaze drawn once more to his hands as they brace against the bench, wondering how they’d feel if he cupped your face between them right before he kissed you, then splayed against your ribcage, thumbs just brushing the underside of your breasts..

“Sweetheart?” Joel’s voice jolts you from your reverie, “ya can say no to me, but ‘m afraid you’ll have to be the one tellin’ her,” he whispers, Sarah ambling over to join you both, puppy asleep in her arms. “Do I need to give him back now?” she asks politely, her daddy’s brown eyes blinking at you earnestly. “No, I believe he’s yours to keep, after we do some paperwork,” you grin, “but I might stop by soon to see how he’s getting on. Would that be okay?” you ask, and her face opens up like a butterfly, elation sewn into her features. “Yeah, that would be okay,” she muses shyly as she falls into Joel’s side. He wraps an arm around her, and presses a kiss to her hair. He winks at you, then; and you have a feeling both chances will end up coming good.

#ahhhhhh omg #anyway #joel miller #joel miller fluff #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #sarah miller fanfic #sarah miller fanfiction #tlou fanfic #the last of us fanfiction

[venusandsaturnsrings]

i remember reading this childe x reader fanfic ages ago where reader gets caught eavesdropping and then gets stuck under a bed cause childe made it collapse and I woke up with a revelation..fox taru seeing reader stuck and just pawing at her trying to get her out so he can be a good boy and get rewards (aka pussy) but then he realises that he can just take the reward now and later <33

I also cannot find the fanfic anymore :((

i WISH ik which fic ur talking abt but i don’t sawry :(( if anyone does pls drop a link for me and this anon!! anyways DELICIOUS IDEA!! he’s got some self restraint but but but… circumstantial… he could do it…

he hears your yelp and comes running!! his owners danger is also his danger plus he’s eager to help whenever he can. prior to living with you, he was incredibly self sufficient so he has the occasional fit of guilt for not being able to provide for you the same way. he likes taking care of you!! so, when the opportunity presents itself, he’ll be stepping up with a wagging tail.

a bit of foxtaru background, he grew up with many siblings and not in the best financial situation. he’s used to giving up his own meals or scrounging around for something, anything, that could help. foxtaru wasn’t exactly a wild animal, he was more of a street fox. there was a roof over his head but not by much. the caretaking instinct runs deep inside of him after so many years of putting his needs aside in favour of others. to be the one getting taken care of is brand new to him so he often feels as though he isn’t doing enough for you even though he very much is. consequently, should you ever call for his assistance, he’ll be by your side before you’ve even finished saying his name.

bringing us to the current predicament, he’s by your… back side in an instant, asking a million questions to make sure you’re okay. you assure that your fine save for maybe a bruise or two but you’d really like to not be stuck under a bed frame right now. his hands roam around your body for a couple seconds while he thinks about the best approach that won’t leave any other part of you squished but then he notices just how you’re positioned… upper half stuck and on your knees, he could easily mount you from behind. his cock twitches at just the thought and he shakes his head vigorously in attempt to forget it but he just can’t. you’re not in any pain so it wouldn’t be wrong for him to just slip himself in for a moment, would it? he’s got a moral dilemma on his hands. foxtaru so badly wants to help you but now he’s throbbing in his pants and you’re still wiggling a bit as if begging him to breed you full. his hands linger on your ass for a couple seconds longer before he’s throwing caution to the wind and slipping both your shorts and panties down. he hears your surprised squeak but is already pulling out his flushed dick and humping against your cunt that’s squished perfectly between your thighs.

if you’re upset or not is up to you!! you’re getting fucked either way. <3

#cw: dubcon #cw: noncon #he’s so :((( #good boy but he’s got needs yknow!! #foxtaru #childe x reader #tartaglia x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin smut #chit chats