#look at their big nose and their lopsided eyes

[javiscigarette]

Silent Night

Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: You’re home for the holidays and Joel isn't gonna let a drinking contest or a house full of people stop him.

Warnings: PWP ofc, established relationship, mentions of drinking/alcohol, having to keep quiet?, oral (f&m receiving), thigh grinding, creampie, breeding kink, come play, getting caught, I think that's all lmk if I missed anything

w/c: 6.6k

a/n: hiii everyone! I am in fact alive! I'm finally on break from school and this is just a lil something I wrote real quick bc I've been in the holiday spirit since before October even ended hehehe :) Anyway, thank u to the actual loml @undrthelights for beta reading and finding the perfect pics!! It's nice to be back! Please leave a comment letting me know if you liked it, support is what keeps writers going!! Love u all!!

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Your hips grind a little harder against his thigh, a soft sight falling from your lips as he licks and sucks at the spot under your ear that drives you absolutely wild. “I don't think I can be quiet” you whisper, gasping softly when his tongue swipes over your pulse.  "You can" he mumbles against the side of your neck, the vibrations of his voice and his warm breath against your skin sending burning hot sparks down your spine. “You can do whatever I ask, can’t you baby?”

You can hear them downstairs, muffled sounds of Joel and several other of your family members talking and laughing while they sip on the fancy whiskey that your dad was saving for the occasion. You opted out of it, quickly taking up the offer of the first hour or two of alone time you’ve had since you arrived at your parents house two days ago instead. You figured Joel could use the time too, talking with your dad and uncles and cousins about whatever men talk about when they’re doing whiskey tasting in the mancave of a basement. 

You managed to avoid getting roped into watching a shitty Hallmark Christmas movie with the rest of your family or helping them prep for the big dinner tomorrow. After successfully sneaking away to your old childhood bedroom that’s now redecorated as a simple guest room, you're left with nothing to do besides relax. First up was a long shower with the water so hot you nearly scalded your skin, and now you’re cozied up in bed, nose buried deep in the middle of your book while the rest of the house buzzed with muted background noise. 

Time passes without you noticing, too engrossed in your book to keep track, but eventually the bedroom door creaks open, pulling you back to reality. You’re about to tell off whoever is at the door for interrupting you, but you immediately soften when Joel slips inside, quietly closing the door behind him. 

He looks so sweet, wrapped up in a thick dark brown sweater, his curls flopping over his forehead, a light dusting of pink on his cheeks and the bridge of his nose with a lopsided smile. His eyes are soft, warm, and a bit glassy as he looks at you like you’re the best thing he ever did see.

"Think your dad is trying to kill me" he says, his words slurring just a bit as he crosses the room over to the bed.

You giggle, watching him plop down on the bed on his back, his head rolling over to look at you, "Are you surprised? He does this to you every year."

It's true, every holiday at your parents house, your dad insists on the whiskey "tasting", which is really just him pouring heavy handed shots and glasses and seeing who's going to be the last one to tap out. Usually it's just him and his brothers in the end, hashing out some decades old sibling rivalry in the form of a drinking contest. And ever since the first time you brought Joel home for the holiday five years ago, your father has insisted on dragging him down there and challenging him too.

The first year was the worst with Joel not heeding any of your warnings about how much liquor your dad would actually push on him. Joel was so sick by the end of the night that he made best friends with the toilet and passed out on the couch, then spent most of the next morning with a massive hangover, apologizing profusely to your dad about it who just laughed and said that he can try again next year.

Thankfully, Joel knows his limits now and has made peace with the fact that he'll never beat your dad at his own game. It doesn't mean that the challenge doesn't still stand.

"No" he mumbles, a dopey smile spreading across his face, "Guess I jus' never expect him to pour shots big enough to knock out a horse"

"How many did you have this time?" You ask, bookmarking your place in the book before setting it aside, sitting up a little straighter and adjusting the pillows behind your back.

"Jus' three."

"Oh, so you are  just a lightweight then?"

"I'm not a fuckin' lightweight" he grumbles with a dramatic pout. 

You laugh as you turn to lay on your side, propping yourself up on your elbow. Your hand instinctively falls to his hair, a small content sigh falling from his lips as your fingertips skate across his hairline and glide through his soft curls.  scooting closer to him and reaching down to run your fingers through his hair, "Okay, baby" you hum, smiling when his eyes fall shut as your nails gently scratch his scalp, "If you say so."

Joel melts under your touch, like a cat basking in the sun, a lazy little grin on his face and a dreamy, far off look in his eyes. His face is still flushed, the tips of his ears and the tops of his cheeks a rosy shade of pink, his lips slightly parted, a few more stray curls falling across his forehead. He looks absolutely gorgeous, and the soft, tender look in his eyes when he finally looks back up at you melts you from the inside out.

You cup the side of his face in your hand and ;ean in to press a lingering kiss to his forehead. "You're so cute when you're drunk" you murmur, moving kissing his cheek.

"M'not drunk"

You pull back to look him in the eye, smiling, "Sure you're not"

"I'm not" he whines, "M'just a lil' tipsy."

"Alright" you hum, pressing a quick kiss to his pouty lips.

Joel follows your mouth with the softest whine when you start to pull back, his large hand cupping the back of your head, holding you still while he kisses you, needy, but still so sweet. The taste of whiskey is heavy on his tongue as it slides against yours, a soft, satisfied noise rumbling in his chest when you part your lips further, kissing him deeper. 

When he finally lets you break the kiss, you're left just a little breathless and dazed, a giddy feeling swirling low in your belly. His pupils are blown when he looks up at you, his lips spit slick and plump, a lopsided smile on his face. He turns a little more on his side facing you, his fingers fiddling with the hem of your t-shirt until his hand slips easily underneath like it was meant to be there. The warmth of his palm smoothing up and down the curve of your spine is soothing, his fingers gently tracing over your ribs and the dip of your waist, the slight scratch of his calluses over your skin sending a shiver down your spine.

His eyes are half-lidded as he stares at your lips, licking his own. Realistically, you knew exactly what was going to happen as soon as he entered the bedroom. You know how he gets when he's like this, soft, sweet, and incredibly needy. With all the amount of times he tugged you into a bar bathroom after he's had a few, or when Tommy drops him off after a night out and he's already halfway to undressing you before the front door even shuts. You know he's trouble like this, but you can never deny him when he's looking at you like that, like you're the only thing he needs, the only thing he's ever needed.

He leans in to kiss you again, slow and sweet, his fingers splaying on your lower back and keeping you close. His mouth moves languidly against yours, the tip of his tongue tracing your bottle lip and his teeth sinking in the slightest bit to nip and tug, pulling a desperate little sound out from the back of your throat. 

He sighs at the small sound and starts to lean into you more, using his weight to roll you over until you're flat on your back with him hovering above you, his forearms on either side of your head with his knees bracketing your hips. The kisses grow hungrier, wetter, more insistent, his mouth moving against yours like he's trying to breathe the very air from your lungs. 

He shifts a bit and you moan softly into his mouth when his thigh slots between yours, the firm muscle of his thigh pushing right up against the apex of your thighs, the perfect amount of pressure to make heat spark and smolder in your belly. He does it again, rocking his thigh up against you just a little harder, swallowing the needy whimper that you let out, the heat and friction making you ache. 

You can’t help but grind against his thigh, the seam of your sweatpants pressing against the damp spot that’s already forming on your panties and digging into your clit just right. You’re chasing the growing pleasure, the firmness of his thigh and the intoxicating taste of whiskey on his soft lips mixed with the faint trace of his peppermint toothpaste. You’d give anything to have him, for him to take you, but the sounds of laughter and chatter coming from downstairs is a rude reminder of reality. 

"Joel" you warn with absolutely no heat in your voice, his lips grazing the sensitive spot under your ear, "We can't.”

He ignores you for a beat, crashing his lips back on yours and kissing you until he needs to come up for air. 

"We can" he says, his voice gravelly and thick with want, the deep rumble vibrating in his chest. "We're bein' real quiet"

His lips trail across the line of your jaw and up your cheek before landing on your mouth again. The slow, lazy drag of his tongue against yours makes you throb, another soft when escaping you and the muscles in your legs and stomach tightening as you make no effort to stop moving against his thigh. 

“Everyone will hear us” you try feebly, knowing it’s futile. 

Joel smirks against your lips, the bastard. “Nah. I’ll be quiet.” 

You know he's a damn liar and a bad one at that. In what world could you be quiet with his hands and mouth on you, with his thick cock buried deep inside you, stretching you out and filling you up so good that your toes curl? And in what world could he be quiet, not running his mouth about how good you feel, how pretty you look stuffed full of him, how well you take him. You know exactly how it'll go, if the numerous failed previous attempts are anything to go by.

But then his lips are on the side of your neck, and you're forgetting why it matters. You let your eyes fall shut as his lips press gentle, wet kisses up and down the column of your throat, the stubble on his cheeks and chin scratching and tickling in the best way. You're quickly forgetting why this was a bad idea to begin with.

Your hips grind a little harder against his thigh, a soft sight falling from your lips as he licks and sucks at the spot under your ear that drives you absolutely wild. “I don't think I can,” you whisper, gasping softly when his tongue swipes over your pulse point. 

"You can" he mumbles against the side of your neck, the vibrations of his voice and his warm breath against your skin sending burning hot sparks down your spine. “You can do whatever I ask, can’t you baby?” 

“I don’t- oh…” 

The rest of your sentence dies on the tip of your tongue as he pushes his thigh against you, grinding it up against your core in a way that has your head spinning and toes curling, the pleasure sharp and delicious as it melts into your veins. 

“That’s right” he murmurs, pressing a chaste kiss to the corner of your mouth. “You’ll do whatever I say, huh?” 

There’s a pause and when you open your eyes, his are dark, his pupils blown wide, the deep brown nearly swallowed whole. His hair is tousled and curlier than ever, a few loose strands hanging in his face. His lips are slightly parted, swollen, red, and sick and shiny from your kisses. He’s an absolute sight and you can’t help but nod, eager to do whatever he wants, whatever he asks, because god it’s always worth it. 

His eyes crinkle a bit at the corners and the lopsided smirk on his face widens. He’s the fucking devil. 

Just the thought of him taking you with the rest of the house full of your extended family is making your veins buzz, excitement bubbling low in your belly. But you're well aware of just how thin the walls are and how nosy some members of your family are and you can't fathom how awkward it would be to come down for breakfast the next morning after the whole house heard you getting absolutely railed.

"It’ll be okay" he assures, reading your thoughts, his hands slipping under your shirt again. The fabric bunches up over his wrists as he slides his palms up your torso to cup your breasts, his thumbs brushing over your nipples. "M’not gonna let anyone else hear you. Just me."

Fuck.

His simple words are enough to convince you, not that you needed much convincing in the first place. He had you wrapped around his finger and him around yours, and there was no way you were going to say no to what you know will come next. A jolt of electricity shoots down your spine and settles hot and heavy in the pit of your stomach. Your resolve breaks, your legs falling open further, letting him get even closer, and Joel lets out a soft, happy noise against your mouth.

"Atta girl" he hums, his voice rough and deep, "So good for me, aren't ya baby?"

"Always" you manage to reply, the word more of a sigh as you arch your back, his thumb teasing your nipple until it's pebbled and hard.

He gives into you easily, tugging your shirt up and over your head. His mouth lands on your chest as soon as it’s exposed, immediately licking and kissing across your collarbones and the swell of your breast. He noses along the valley between them, the coarse hair of his beard tickling your skin and making you giggle. You can feel him grinning against your skin before he nips and sucks at the supple flesh until a red mark rises to the surface. 

You squirm beneath him, his leg still nestled perfectly between yours and pressing against you every time he shifts. The pressure is building in your gut, your clit aching and throbbing. The feeling is almost too much with his hot wet mouth now wrapped around your nipple, his tongue swirling around the stiff peak making it harder and harder for you to keep quiet. 

“Joel,” you hiss, the word half warning and half plea. 

“Hush, baby” he mumbles against your skin. His fingers replace his mouth, pinching and teasing your swollen, spit-slick nipple as he kisses across your chest to lavish your other nipple with the same attention. 

“Gotta be quiet, remember?” he says when he pulls back, releasing your nipple with a wet pop. “Unless you want everyone hearin’ ya” 

You open your mouth to say something in protest, to tell him that he’s making things a lot harder right now, but then he starts moving, sliding down the bed and the words die in your throat. The look he gives you as he settles on his stomach between your thighs is sinful, his eyes dark and mischievous, his lips pulled up into a smirk. 

He hooks his fingers in the waistband of your sweats, slowly pulling them along with your panties down your legs, leaving you completely bare. Your stomach swoops at the sight of his eyes trained to your center and your thighs twitch, wanting to snap shut and hide. But his hands on both of your thighs keep you spread open for him. You swallow thickly, your breath catching in your throat, the anticipation building in the pit of your belly as your slick starts to drip down the cleft of your ass. 

Joel’s mouth falls open slightly, a shaky breath escaping him. “Fuck, baby” he sighs, tongue darting out to lick his cherry red lips, his eyes glazing over. A small, content smile tugs at the corners of your mouth, a swell of pride blossoming in your chest. He looks wrecked, like a starving man eyeing his first meal, and the way he's looking at you so intently, like you're the best thing he's ever seen, the thing that's kept him alive all these years, is making your heart pound almost painfully in your chest. 

“Fucking gorgeous,” he praises, his hand running along the inside of your thigh. “And all mine.” 

Like he can’t wait another second, he’s leaning in and licking a long, wet stripe up your center, dragging his tongue through your folds from your leaking hole to your swollen, needy clit. The feeling of his tongue on you pulls a soft, broken sound from you. You clap your hand over your mouth as your head spins, a rush of pleasure washing over you making the muscles in your thighs and stomach twitch and flex. 

He does it again and again, and every time his tongue flicks over the swollen bud, you let out a soft whine that sounds far too loud in the otherwise quiet room.

He groans against you, his mouth already wet and messy as he laps at your pussy like he's starving for it, like he would die without tasting you. His eyes are locked on yours, the look in them so dark and primal that it makes your walls clench, more slick freely leaking out of you and onto his tongue. He laps it up happily, his fingers digging into your hips, holding you steady as his mouth works your clit.

He lets out a quiet, breathy moan when you slide your hand through his hair once again, your fingers tangling in and pulling on the soft brown strands. His eyes flutter shut, a shuddery exhale falling from his parted lips, and the feeling of his warm breath fanning over your wet, sensitive center has you stifling another high pitched whimper.

You roll your hips up against his face, desperate for more, and he gets the hint, the flat of his tongue swiping up through your folds a few more times before he dips it into your entrance, pushing in and out while his nose nudges at your clit. You're writhing beneath him, tugging at his hair, trying so hard to be quiet but failing miserably, soft, desperate little noises pouring out of your mouth. You know he's loving it too, making no effort to keep your noises at bay, not giving a single fuck about who might hear.

He moans against your cunt, the vibrations making you jolt, your hips rolling up to meet him. You're panting, the hand that isn't buried in his hair gripping the sheets tight enough that your knuckles turn white, and your back arches when his tongue fucks in and out of you faster, rougher.

"Joel, fuck" you gasp, "I- I'm-

He growls, the sound muffled by your pussy, the vibrations and the feeling of his stubble dragging along your inner thighs making your toes curl, the familiar coil in your belly tightening, your thighs trembling.

He doubles down, bringing a hand between your legs to replace his tongue with two thick fingers sinking into you and curling up against that spot inside you that has you seeing stars, his tongue circling your clit while his fingers pump in and out of you, his mouth and hand working in tandem to pull you apart.

"Fuck, I'm close" you whimper, his fingers crooking against that spot inside of you, sending white hot fire coursing through your veins as your slick leaks down his fingers and into his palm like hot honey. 

He hums, sucking your clit between his lips, and your legs clamp around his head, your hand tightening in his hair as your orgasm crashes over you, your back arching off the mattress, a muffled, broken moan spilling out from behind your hand. He fucks you through it, his tongue flattening out against your clit while the tips of his fingers rub against that sweet spot inside of you, sending more sparks of pleasure tingling up and down your spine.

When it's too much, when the sensitivity makes tears prick in the corners of your eyes, you make a feeble attempt to push him away. He pulls back, sitting up on his knees, his chin and cheeks wet with your slick, his pupils blown so wide that the brown is almost completely swallowed up by black. He stares at you, his gaze so heavy and intense that it makes another shiver run down your spine.

"You're not being very quiet" he smirks as he moves off the bed to stand up.

You roll your eyes, still coming down from the aftershocks, your thighs quivering, "Yeah, no shit" you mutter, propping yourself up on your elbows.

He chuckles as he pulls off his sweater and the t-shirt underneath it before he starts unbuckling his belt and working on his jeans. You sit up, shuffling closer to the edge of the bed, reaching out and batting his hands away, taking over and quickly unfastening the button and pulling the zipper down.

He doesn't protest, letting you push his jeans and boxers down his legs until he kicks them all the way off. Your mouth waters at the sight of his thick, hard cock hanging heavy between his legs, flushed a deep red with slippery precum beading at the tip. You reach out, wrapping your hand around the base and taking a moment or two to revel in the familiar weight and warmth of him in your hand.

He shudders, a low moan rumbling in his chest, his eyes slipping shut as his hand moves to cup the back of your head. He watches you intently as you take your time, lazily stroking him, rubbing the pad of your thumb over the leaking tip and tracing the throbbing veins that run along the sides. His breathing grows heavy, his jaw clenching and his stomach muscles twitching as he tries so hard not to buck his hips up into the loose circle of your fist.

"C'mon, sweetheart" he pleads, the words leaving his mouth as a low, breathless groan, "Get me all nice and wet for you."

He doesn't have to ask twice. You lean forward and you dart your tongue out to lap up the bead of precum, humming at the salty, bitter taste of it, swirling the flat of your tongue over the head of his cock, your hand pumping the rest of his shaft. His breath catches in his throat, a stuttered curse falling from his lips when you dip your tongue into the slit, teasing more precum out.

He groans, his grip on the back of your head tightening, urging you to take him into the warm, wet heat of your mouth. You sink down, flattening your tongue and taking him all the way until he hits the back of your throat, the tip of his cock brushing against the roof of your mouth. You breathe through your nose, hollowing your cheeks, swallowing around him, and the deep, guttural groan that he lets out has you squirming, slick leaking out of your cunt and onto the sheets below.

"There ya go" he pants, his head lolling back, "Oh, baby, that's it. S'fuckin' perfect."

You pull off, a string of spit and precum connecting his cock to your bottom lip, and you look up at him through your lashes.

"Need to be quiet" you remind him, "Or else I'll stop"

He lets out a shaky breath and nods, swallowing hard, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat. He's not used to keeping quiet, not used to not telling you how good you feel, not used to not begging you to let him cum in that low, raspy tone that never fails to make you weak.

"I'll be good," he whispers, breathless and needy. "Promise."

Your stomach swoops at his words, arousal burning bright in your belly. Unable to stay away for much longer, you lean forward, pressing a soft kiss to the head of his cock. His hips jerk, another drop of precum leaking out. You lick it up, swirling your tongue around the sensitive, swollen tip before sinking down again. You take him into the wet heat of your mouth, hollowing your cheeks and swallowing around him, bobbing your head slowly and steadily.

He bites his lip hard enough to draw blood trying with all his might to keep his noises in as you drool all over his cock. He can't take his eyes off you, watching the way he disappears into the slick heat of your mouth. You look so pretty with your lips wrapped around him, spit dripping down his cock and leaking out the corners of your mouth while your eyes water as you take him as far as you can.

You take him deeper, and you swallow, your throat convulsing around him, and the way his whole body shudders makes you smile, proud of the effect you have on him. He's so big and thick, and you both know you can't fit him all the way down your throat, but seeing you try your best is enough to make his thighs start to shake. 

His cock hits the back of your throat again and again, the tip dipping into the soft, warm, tight space, and Joel's breathing is getting heavier and faster, his jaw clenched and his eyebrows knitted together.

"Shit" he grits out under his breath, "That's it, sweetheart. That's fuckin' it."

The praise goes straight between your legs, a fresh wave of slick leaking out of you and it's too tempting to resist, so you slip your hand between your thighs and rub circles around your clit, moaning softly around his cock.

He hisses, his eyes snapping down, watching your hand disappear between your legs.

"Are you touchin' yourself?" he asks, the words coming out rough and choked, his eyebrows raised.

You nod, sliding a finger into yourself, and you pull off his cock, panting, a thin strand of spit connecting the head to your bottom lip.

"Can't help it" you whine pathetically, your voice already raspy from how far his cock had been down your throat.

Joel groans, his dick twitching, and he's had enough. He takes a step back, and you let go, a little confused and worried that you've done something wrong. But he just takes hold of your arms and yanks you off the bed, his strong hands easily manhandling you, and then he's pushing you, turning you around and bending you over the side of the mattress.

"Oh" you breathe out, bracing yourself on your forearms, arching your back, sticking your ass up in the air.

You don't have to wait long for him to move. His hand is smoothing over your ass, the other one guiding his cock towards your sopping cunt. He teases the tip between your folds, spreading your slick and dragging his head over your swollen clit a few times before lining himself up and sinking in.

You bite down on the inside of your cheek to keep quiet, letting out a stuttering breath, the familiar, delicious burn of his thick cock stretching you out making your eyes roll back into your head. You've made peace with the face that you'll never be used to his size. It'll always be too much, the feeling of him pushing into, forcing your walls to make room for him will always make you clench and shiver.

He's got his hands on your hips, holding you steady as he bottoms out, his hips flush with the curve of your ass with the tip of his cock pressed against your cervix. He holds himself there for a moment, both of you adjusting to the feeling, and you're trying so hard not to moan, to keep your noises muffled by the mattress, and you know Joel's struggling too, his jaw clenched tight and his brow furrowed.

"Good girl" he whispers, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your hips, "Taking my cock so well, aren't ya?"

You nod, whimpering, your fingers twisting in the sheets.

He pulls back and thrusts back in, setting a steady, slow rhythm, the wet slide of his cock making the most obscene sounds. And it's driving you crazy, the need to let out loud, your chest burning with the effort of keeping your noises in. He keeps his pace slow, not wanting to make more noise with his hips snapping against your ass. It’s nearly tortuous though, the drag of his cock in and out of you so slow that you can feel every ridge as he takes his sweet time. You can only handle it for a few moments before the tingling hints of pain from the stretch subside and the burning need for him to fuck you senseless takes over.

"Joel" you whine, "Faster, please."

He leans over you, his front pressed against your back, his lips grazing the shell of your ear. "You're not gonna stay quiet if I do," he says, his voice deep and gravelly, "Just take what I give you, sweetheart."

You're so worked up, the slow pace makes you even more desperate for him, and you can't help it, you need more, and you reach a hand back and grab his hip, urging him to speed up.

"I-I'll try" you promise, "Please, just- Just fuck me, Joel, please"

He hesitates, but the way you're squirming beneath him is so tempting, and the way his cock is throbbing and dripping inside of you is telling him that he needs more too.

Before you can say anything else, he's pulling back, the thick, heavy weight of him sliding out of you. You whimper at sudden empty feeling but you don't have time to complain before he's flipping you over onto your back and scooting you up the bed before climbing on top of you. You can’t help but notice how big he is, the muscles flexing smoothly in his strong arms that box you in as he hovers above you, nearly encompassing your entire body underneath his. His mouth is on yours before you can even blink, his tongue slipping past your lips and kissing you like his life depends on it.

He settles between your legs, his hips nestled in the cradle of your thighs, his cock dragging along your clit again warm and heavy, and you gasp, the sound swallowed by his mouth. You're squirming again, desperate to feel him stretch you out more and he takes mercy on you, reaching between your bodies and grabbing the base of his cock, guiding the thick head towards your entrance.

"Gotta be quiet, baby" he warns, his eyes boring into yours as he looks down at you. "Those pretty noises are just for me, yeah? Can't have anyone hearin' 'em."

You nod frantically and the next second he's pushing in, the fat head of his cock forcing its way into you and bottoming out in one smooth motion. You let out a gasp that's definitely too loud but Joel is quick to remedy it, his hand coming up to cover your mouth, his fingers splaying across your cheek.

"Shh" he shushes you, his hips rolling, the slow, lazy drag of his cock against your walls making you clench around him. Your eyes roll back, your back arching as his hand stops all the whiny little sounds you can't help but make. He continues to fuck you slow and deep, his cock sliding in and out of your soaking wet cunt, the filthy sounds of skin slapping against skin echoing softly in the room.

You can't take your eyes off him, watching his eyes squeeze shut, the muscles in his arms and shoulders flexing as he fucks you, his brows knitted together and his teeth sunk into his bottom lip. He looks beautiful like this, sweat glistening on his skin, his jaw tight, and his eyes shut tight, his mouth hanging open with his breaths coming out in soft, barely audible pants.

"Mmm" he hums, his hips picking up speed, his cock pushing impossibly deeper. "You feel so fuckin' good, baby. Fuck."

You reflexively clench around him and a shudder runs through his whole body.

"Gettin' real tight" he pants, "Tryna milk the cum right outta me, huh? Tryna make me fill up that pretty pussy?"

You whimper into his palm, your pussy fluttering, a fresh wave of slick coating his cock, and he groans, his hips picking up speed.

"S'what you want?" he asks in a hushed tone, his hand still pressed firmly over your mouth. "You want me to fill you up? Make a mess of that pretty pussy? Breed you until you're fuckin' stuffed, baby girl?"

Your back arches off the bed, the coil in your belly so tight that you think you might pass out. He's rambling, his thrusts losing rhythm, his breathing getting ragged and choppy, his chest heaving and his thighs shaking.

"That's it" he coaxes when you tighten around him even more, "Can feel it, can feel how close you are. Go on, baby, cum on my cock. Wanna feel that tight, wet cunt cum all over my cock, please, baby."

His hips snap forward, his cock pushing deep into you, the tip rubbing against the spongy spot deep inside you that makes the coil in your belly finally snap. Your eyes roll back, a muffled, broken moan falling from your lips as your entire body convulses, your orgasm washing over you and making your toes curl as your walls flutter around his cock buried to the hilt inside of you.

Joel lets out a deep, low groan, his hips stuttering as he fucks you through your orgasm. His hand slips away from your mouth so he can grip your hips with both hands, his fingers digging into the soft flesh, holding you in place so he can chase after his own release. His chest is tight as he holds in his grunts and groans, but it’s barely any use with the lewd noises that fill the room as your pussy gushes around him, your slick leaking past the tight seal of your walls around him and dripping down to his balls. 

"Oh, shit, baby. Christ,” he chokes out, his stomach muscles clenching as his hips slam into yours, his cock pushing impossibly deeper and harder. “Keep makin’ a mess, keep lettin’ me feel it. That’s it. Fuckin’ hell.” 

You can feel his cock starting to throb inside of you and you know he’s close. And you can’t stop the words from leaving your mouth, the need to let him know just how good he’s making you feel is destroying any bit of common sense. 

“Want you to fill me up,” you whine. “Please, Joel, wanna feel it.” 

That’s all it takes. His jaw clenches, his nose scrunching as his eyes squeeze shut. His cock twitches and pulses as he buries himself as deep as he can get before spilling into, filling you with thick, hot ropes of his cum. His hips jerking and stuttering d you clench around him, squeezing and milking him for everything he has while he buries his face in the crook of your neck, muffling his broken, ragged moans against your skin.

"So good,” he whimpers. “Fuckin’ perfect.” 

The praise goes straight between your legs and you wrap your arm around his shoulders, trying to pull him closer. He lifts his head, his palm resting on your cheek as he lifts his head and presses his lips against yours, kissing you languidly. His hips rock back and forth lazily, pushing his cum in as deep as he can get it. You melt into the bed underneath him, the only things keeping you tethered to the earth being your fingers combing through his hair and your legs tightening around his waist.

When he finally pulls away, he rests his forehead against yours, and you're both left panting, trying to catch your breath. You listen to the muffled sounds of people downstairs, the movie playing and their drunken voices filtering in through the door, and Joel must be thinking the same thing because he chuckles.

"Well" he says, his thumb rubbing back and forth over your cheekbone, "I don't think anyone heard us."

"You better hope they didn't" you retort, a grin on your face. Joel rolls his eyes. "That's a weird way to say thank you" he teases. You start to laugh, but the sound dies in your throat, morphing to a whimper instead when he starts pulling out his softening cock.

"Joel" you whine, but he doesn't stop. "Joel, please. It's-"

He's not listening, he's too focused on the way his cock looks when he pulls out. The tip slips out of you, and the rest follows, and his eyes widen as he watches a string of thick, sticky cum stretch from the tip of his cock to your cunt. It breaks, falling to your thigh, and he licks his lips. He can't tear his eyes away, watching the way your cunt flutters, and his cum starts to drip out, running down your slit, the obscene sight making Joel's spent cock twitch. 

"Shit" he mutters under his breath, "Ain't that a pretty picture."

He reaches down, dragging a finger through the mess of cum and slick and gathering it on his finger before pushing it back into your cunt. You clench around the digit before he sighs and pulls it back out.

"Gonna be leaking all day tomorrow" he murmurs, almost to himself.

You whimper, the thought of having him dripping out of you all day like that has renewed arousal already seeping into your veins. 

“It’s okay” he assures you, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead. “I’ll take care ya. Clean you up and put my cock back in right where it belongs, how’s that sound, hm?” 

You sigh, nodding, a wave of fatigue washing over you. “Sounds perfect,” you agree. 

You watch as he climbs off of you and starts to move, but a sudden, sharp sound of knuckles knocking on the other side of the bedroom door makes you both freeze. 

“You two are fucking disgusting!” the voice of your cousin calls out, accompanied by the sound of a couple other people giggling and laughing. “Put some goddamn clothes on and get down here!” 

You and Joel exchange glances, his eyes wide and apologetic, his cheeks burning bright red as you give him a look that says I told you so. 

“Alright, alright, we’re coming” he yells back. 

“We’re coming! Oh, yeah we’re coming!” another voice teases, the sound of everyone bursting out laughing quickly follows. 

“We’re never doing that again” Joel mutters and you can’t help but chuckle. 

“Yeah right. Keep telling yourself that”

Thank you for reading!!! Plsss let me know if you enjoyed hehehe

#joel miller smut #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you #joel miller one shot #joel miller fic #the last of us #tlou fic #joel miller #pedro pascal characters

[yuujispinkhair]

You are watching Sukuna. And Sukuna is watching his brother's girlfriend... Until he is watching you.

-> This is Part 2 of this drabble

Modern!Sukuna x Reader (female) Fluff + angst with a happy end. Word count: 4k. Angst, lots of pining, unrequited love at first, mentions of alcohol. There is no cheating. Sukuna and Reader get their happy end. Minors don't interact.

This small series was inspired by this beautiful art by @nayasch.

Also, for the best experience, I recommend listening to "Is there somewhere" by Halsey while reading this. I had it on repeat while writing. Divider @/hitobaby

It's a spilled drink that brings you closer to Sukuna.

Just a moment ago, you were holding your breath as you walked past the tattooed, pink-haired boy who makes your heart race, too shy to even look his way when you were so close to him. But then someone knocked into you, and now you are standing there like a deer in the headlights, your hands wet, your shirt ruined, staring wide-eyed at the big red stain soaking the front of your crush's white t-shirt.

You faintly hear some guy behind you apologizing. You have no idea if he is apologizing to you or to Sukuna. All you know is that Sukuna is glaring daggers at him,

"Get out of my sight before I punch your stupid face!"

And then those beautiful maroon eyes snap to you, and you forget how to breathe. You wished for Sukuna's gaze to find you, dreamed about it all the time. Hoped he would notice you, hoped that fate would hand you a chance to get closer to him. But now that it happens so unexpectedly, you don't know what to do. A muttered "S... sorry." leaves your lips.

Sukuna's gaze travels from your face down to your shirt, which is just as soaked as his. And that attractive lopsided smirk appears on his face, the one that gives you butterflies, especially now when he is standing right in front of you, close enough to touch. He shrugs,

"Wasn't your fault. I'm gonna change into a fresh shirt. What about you? Want one, too?"

You barely manage a nod before Sukuna starts walking away, and you quickly follow him to his room with your heart beating up to your throat.

He doesn't bother turning away but just pulls his soaked shirt off right in front of you, making your stomach flutter and your face heat when you see his firm abs and chest adorned with those sexy tattoos.

He laughs softly, probably seeing how flustered you are by his bare chest. But he doesn't comment on it and hands you one of his clean shirts, a white one like the one he was wearing before you spilled your drink over it.

He leaves the room after slipping into a fresh shirt, leaving you alone in his room so you can change in peace.

You sit on his bed afterward, pulse fluttering as you feel the soft fabric of Sukuna's shirt on your skin. You bring it to your nose to inhale its scent. It's fresh out of the laundry, so it mostly smells just of fabric softener, but it was in his dresser with his other things, and you can very faintly smell his cologne on it, making you close your eyes and sigh softly, overcome by a longing so bad it almost makes you choke up.

It's ironic. As if fate is taunting you. Here you are, sitting on Sukuna's bed and wearing his shirt like a girlfriend would. But he is already gone again, back to the party, where he will gaze at his brother's girl with the same longing in his eyes that fills yours, too, when you look his way.

Your hand reaches out to touch Sukuna's pillow, fingers sprawling over it, while you stare longingly at the dent where his head rests every night. What you wouldn't give to sleep in this bed with him. Feeling his strong arms around you, your body snuggled against his. Holding him, loving him, showing him that he can have all those things he longs for.

If only things were different.

It's hard to pull yourself away and leave Sukuna's room again. You feel a strange mix of emotions as you walk back to the party. Exhilaration upon getting Sukuna's shirt and being in his room, mixed with that familiar heavy feeling in your chest because you know he isn't yours, and he probably never will be.

You enter the living room and see him leaning casually against the wall in his fresh shirt, tattooed arms crossed over his chest, biceps flexed enticingly, head tilted back, a bottle of vodka pressed to his lips as his eyes are once again on his brother and his girlfriend, who are dancing in the middle of the room.

You leave the party shortly after to go home and crawl into your bed, still wearing Sukuna's shirt, hugging your pillow to your chest, wishing it was him.

Is he alone in his bed, too? Does he yearn, too? Does he, too, think about the one he craves but cannot have?

The thought makes your heart throb painfully.

Another party, another evening of watching the boy you secretly love from your safe space across the room. His gaze is unsurprisingly on the girl standing next to his brother. Yuuji says something to her, and she laughs happily and hugs him tightly, nuzzling her face against his shoulder. And you see Sukuna's jaw tighten, see his Adam's apple bob as he gulps hard, see the burning jealousy and pain in his eyes.

You blink against the tears threatening to well up in your eyes. His pain is almost palpable to you, but no one else seems to see it. No one seems to care enough to really look at Sukuna. They all just see Sukuna's mocking smirk and the arrogance and roughness he wears like armor. They don't see the pain in those beautiful maroon eyes. They don't see that his heart is aching.

Maybe you only recognize the signs because you feel the same way.

Maybe it is this all too familiar pain you see on his face that makes you brave tonight. And after all, you have a good excuse to walk up to him and stop in front of him, tilting your head to look up at his beautiful face, and say softly,

"Hey, Sukuna... thank you for the shirt you gave me last week. I wanted to give it back to you."

You don't really want to give it back. You have slept every night in it since last week, snuggling into it, inhaling the faint traces of Sukuna's scent, dreaming about having him in your bed, hugging him, feeling the warmth of his body seep through the thin fabric of the t-shirt.

But you reluctantly put it in the washing machine yesterday, folded it neatly, and put it in your bag to return it to him tonight.

You hand him the shirt, and Sukuna takes it, his large hand with the tattoos and various rings brushing over yours, sending the butterflies fluttering in your stomach like crazy. You know how nervous you must look when you smile a shaky smile at him,

"Thank you again. That was really nice of you."

There is surprise in his eyes as if no one ever tells him he is nice. Maybe he isn't. Or maybe people just don't see the small, nice things he does sometimes. Maybe he doesn't want them to see.

"No problem, princess."

You lie awake that night, in your own shirt this time, but with Sukuna's low, velvety voice playing over and over in your mind, calling you princess. You know it means nothing, but it still makes your heart race and a giddy smile lift your lips.

You clutch your drink tightly as you watch the boy you secretly love from across the room, just like you do every weekend. If only you weren't so shy. If only you were brave enough to walk over to him without needing a reason like giving back his shirt.

You sigh longingly as your eyes trail over Sukuna's face. Longing is what you can see on his face, too, as his gaze is on the happy couple at the other end of the room. Your chest feels so tight that it hurts.

I want to take the pain away from you, Sukuna. I wish I could be the one to make you happy.

But you are standing here, and he is standing over there with his eyes on someone else.

A sad love song starts playing and the air in the room feels suffocating all of a sudden.

Maybe you should leave.

What are you even doing at this party, where you are surrounded by so many people but feel more alone than at home, where it is only you and your bed?

What are you doing, coming here week after week just to stare at a boy you can't have? Hurting yourself when you see him looking at someone else. Drowning in desperation when you realize week after week that he is just as alone in his pain as you are and that you will probably never be able to break through his walls.

He is in pain, and you are in pain, and nothing will change about that.

Might as well leave and never come back. Stay away from those stupid parties. Find other places to go to. Maybe after some time, you will be able to forget about pink hair and black tattoos and maroon eyes.

Right when you push yourself off the wall, Sukuna turns his head. That beautiful maroon gaze lands on you, and all you can do is stare back at him.

Time seems to slow down as you and Sukuna look at each other across the room. You are sure he can see the tears threatening to spill over, can see the pain in your eyes, can recognize it for what it is because he carries the same pain in his eyes.

Maybe that shared pain is what makes him slowly walk over to you. He stops in front of you, his typical teasing smirk on his lips, but the same sadness still unveiled in his eyes.

For a moment, you think he will ask you to go to his room with him to fuck. And it fills you with dread because you know you would just be a rebound. You would just be someone he uses for sex to take his mind off the girl he really wants. It would mean nothing to him. And yet, you know that you would say yes. You would go with him, would lay down in his bed, would let him take everything he needs from you until you have nothing left. And in turn, you would take anything he is willing to give you, too, even if it was just meaningless sex. Because even if he just used you to distract himself, it would still be better than nothing. Even if it were just impersonal sex, without any feelings involved from his side, you would still go with him just to feel his skin on yours.

But to your relief, the question never comes. Instead, he says in that calm, low voice,

"You look like you aren't enjoying this stupid party either. Even the pizza tastes disgusting. I'll make something myself. Wanna join me?"

You follow him as if you are in a daze. Everything around you is blurred as you walk behind Sukuna's tall figure, following him to the kitchen, your head spinning, making you feel light-headed even though you barely drank any alcohol.

You sit on the kitchen counter while he cooks. Studying his beautiful face while he is focusing on the pan in front of him. The pain in his eyes is not as burning anymore while he stirs the vegetables and adds various spices. Maybe this is why he wanted to come here. Maybe cooking distracts him enough to ease the pain at least a little.

Those maroon eyes you love so much meet yours while Sukuna tells you how tired he is of those parties all the time and those people he cannot stand in his apartment. He doesn't say what he really means, but you know. How tired his heart is of the longing, of the pain, of having to pretend like he is ok.

You tell him he is a good cook when he hands you a spoon to try, and a smile flickers over his face. A genuine smile, not the typical smirk. And it makes you fall. Makes you tumble down an abyss that you know you will never be able to get out of again. As if you needed to fall even more for him. As if you weren't already too in love with him.

You know you are lost. Lost in everything that makes Sukuna Sukuna. You thought you knew him and already fell in love with what you knew about him on a surface level. But now you have caught glimpses of the boy beneath the surface, and it makes you fall even deeper in love with him. Makes your chest hurt even more. Makes your every fiber scream with longing.

He hoists himself up on the kitchen counter next to you, handing you a plate and grabbing one for himself, too. You sit in silence, eating side by side, while the sounds of the party dimly drift to your ears through the closed door.

You praise his cooking skills some more because you are too nervous to think of anything else to say and because you like the way his lips curl in a smile again and how the pain in his eyes is almost completely gone when he turns to look at you.

He tells you where he got the recipe, how he adjusted it over several weeks, and that he enjoys cooking a lot. The way he says it doesn't sound like he is simply doing small talk, but rather as if he is letting you in on a secret. As if this is a side of Sukuna that people aren't supposed to know.

And you smile softly at him, hoping it conveys that you are grateful that he lets you share this moment with him.

His thumb brushes over the corner of your lips to scoop up some stray sauce, making your heart beat so fast you think you will black out.

When you leave an hour later, you tell him that you really enjoyed yourself,

"Thank you for letting me try your food. It tasted delicious... and I..."

You want to tell him how happy it made you to spend time with him, just the two of you in the kitchen. That you will always keep those moments in your heart like a treasure. But you are too shy to say those words out loud, and so you trail off sheepishly, smiling nervously at him and nodding awkwardly.

"Bye, Sukuna. Have a nice rest of the night."

He watches you closely with those beautiful maroon eyes, a thoughtful expression on his face, saying nothing. But he holds the door open for you like a gentleman in those old movies.

You can still feel the ghost of his touch on your skin when you lie in bed with a smile on your face and a warm feeling in your chest for the first time after coming home after one of those parties.

You are standing in a corner, taking a sip from your drink as your gaze wanders to the tall figure leaning against the wall across the room. Tattooed face and arms, pink hair, and maroon eyes.

You are prepared to see his gaze glued to his brother's girl. You are prepared to see the familiar longing and pain on his face. But you frown when you realize Sukuna's gaze isn't staring at a fixed place but instead wandering slowly through the room, scanning it as if he is searching for something or someone, even though the object of his pining is right in front of him. And yet that gaze slips over her and continues to wander.

Until it lands on you.

It catches you so off guard that you spill your drink again. This time, only over your own shirt, but you cannot bring yourself to look at the mess. Your eyes are on Sukuna, watching wide-eyed as he walks toward you, brushing past the girl you thought he would look at without so much as sparing a glance at her.

He looks amused when he takes in the mess on your shirt. A raised eyebrow, a boyish grin lifting the corners of his lips, a long tattooed finger pointing at your chest,

"Need one of my shirts again?"

You are back in his room a few minutes later, changing into one of his clean shirts while he has his back turned to you, making your heart beat so fast that you fear he can hear it thundering in your chest.

He leans against his desk while you sit on his bed, finding it hard to breathe with how nervous you are. With how lovesick you are for him. The longing to hold him so bad that you feel dizzy from it.

And he talks to you, tells you about a new recipe he tried, about a cooking show he watched, about this and that. Like he wants to keep you here in his room. Like he wants a reason to stay here and not go out to the party again. Like you are his escape.

His shirt feels soft on your skin, his bed so tempting under you. You grab a small pillow to hug to your chest, and the butterflies flutter like crazy when you smell Sukuna's cologne wafting off it.

He jokingly asks you,

"Did you spill your drink intentionally so you could get one of my shirts again? Liked it so much, huh?"

And you chuckle and tell him,

"Well, the end justifies the means. That shirt you gave me last time was really comfy. I slept in it a whole week."

You feel your face heat up when you realize what you just admitted. But Sukuna just laughs, and those beautiful maroon eyes sparkle like two precious jewels.

He tells you to keep his shirt this time.

"So you have something to sleep in."

And your voice wavers nervously, but you still tell him:

"You are really nice, Sukuna. Do you know that?"

He scrunches his nose at that,

"That's something I've never heard anyone tell me before. Are you sure you got the right Sukuna?"

"Yeah. In my eyes, you are nice. At least when you want to. You give me your shirts, and you let me try your self-cooked meals, and you hold open doors and talk to me and... make me feel less alone on these parties."

The last part comes out in a whisper, your emotions threatening to choke you up as you are overcome by your feelings for him. Being so close to him, spending time with him, seeing him smile and joke around with you. Sharing those moments with him that seem like something special.

Sukuna's eyes widen, an emotion flickering over his face that you cannot place. Surprise, maybe, but also something else. Something much softer. He looks away for a moment, staring at his wall that is adorned with pictures of pretty landscapes and bright red shrines and an old man standing in the middle of two pink-haired boys.

When he looks at you again, there is a vulnerability in his eyes you have never seen before. His voice is soft when he tells you,

"You make me feel less alone, too."

Sukuna kisses you for the first time at a party two weeks later. And it is not a kiss in the middle of the party. It is not a kiss in front of his brother and his girlfriend. It is not a kiss meant for someone else. It is not a kiss to make someone jealous. It is not a kiss only for the show.

No, it is a kiss that is real. In his room, where he sits next to you on his bed. It is soft and slow. Sukuna's hand is cupping your cheek gently, his lips brushing over yours slowly as if he is scared to hurt you or hurt himself. As if he is scared that he is fucking things up. Or maybe as if he fears he doesn't deserve this.

It's a kiss that makes you fall apart and makes you whole at the same time.

You kiss him back as tenderly as he kisses you. Slow and gentle, your eyes closed, your hand landing on his neck and caressing the short stubble of his undercut. You kiss him like you are writing poetry for him with your lips against his, putting all the words you are too shy to say into this kiss, all your longing for him, all the tenderness you feel for him, all your love. And he kisses you like he is a drowning man who finally reached the saving shore.

You walk out of his room side by side. Sukuna holds your hand, tugging you along to the kitchen to cook another homemade meal he wants to share with you.

Your heart feels like bursting with happiness. No traces of pain are left in Sukuna's eyes when he hands you a plate of stir-fried rice. And that smile is lighting up his face again. He is so beautiful, and you tell him so without worrying that he will make fun of you.

He kisses you again when he walks you to the door, right there in the hallway where anyone can see, his lips lingering against yours before he pulls away as if he doesn't want to let you leave.

You smile at him and nod when he tells you to text him once you are safely home.

"I like you."

Sukuna tells you in a soft voice while you are straddling his lap, currently cleaning some food experiment gone wrong off his tattooed face with a wet kitchen towel.

Wide, terrified maroon eyes look at you as if their owner thinks he just handed you a knife for you to ram into his chest and twist in his heart. It makes your own heart throb painfully even as you feel elated to hear that your feelings are reciprocated. Seeing this rough boy so scared. Scared of his feelings, scared of admitting them. Scared what you will do with that confession. Because all he knows about love is that it is painful and that it hurts and never gets returned.

You want to cry for him. For the boy who, until now, only knew meaningless sex and hopeless longing for what he thought he couldn't have. For the boy who believed that love wasn't meant for someone like him.

The first tear slips out of the corner of your left eye as Sukuna's large hands sprawl over your waist possessively, and he repeats his words despite the fear so evident in his low voice, the words nothing more than a hoarse whisper,

"I like you so fucking much."

Your hand with the towel is hovering in midair, your lips twitch, and finally, you cannot hold back anymore, and the tears spill over, running down your cheeks in hot rivulets. A broken sob falls from your lips, followed by a choked-up sounding:

"I like you too."

Sukuna closes his eyes for a moment, long black lashes fanning over his skin, a beautiful image that makes you drop the kitchen towel and cup his cheek with your hand. Your thumb brushes tenderly over the tattooed lines on his skin when those beautiful eyes open again and look deeply into yours.

He is braver than you are. Adding more to his confession. Making sure you can destroy him fully, if you like,

"Do you know what I mean? I.. I think I am in love with you."

"Sukuna..."

Your voice is thick with tears, but you continue despite the fresh tears welling up in your eyes, despite how much you are trembling in his arms,

"I... I am in love with you, too. Have been for months. Or maybe I was in love with an idea of you back then. But now I know the real you, and I fell even deeper in love with you."

You can see in his eyes that he half expected to get turned down, and it breaks your heart for him, even while happy laughter bubbles out of your trembling lips.

You cling to him when he kisses you, never wanting to let go again. Filled with the need to show him that this love won't hurt. That it won't slip through his fingers. That love can be good and safe and give him peace. That he deserves love, too, and that you are here to love him with everything you have.

It's another Saturday, and you are at Sukuna and Yuuji's apartment two hours before the party starts, helping them with the preparations. Yuuji's girlfriend is there too. You feel a bit awkward, a bit uneasy when you see her. But she smiles a genuine smile at you and greets you with a hug.

You work next to her for an hour and realize that she probably never was aware of Sukuna's feelings. She might look at Sukuna, but she doesn't truly see him. She only sees Yuuji. Her gaze is filled with love when she looks at him with an expression on her face that lets you know she has found her person.

You turn around to glance at Sukuna, a mix of fear and hope in your heart. What you see makes your chest fill with warmth. Sukuna isn't looking at Yuuji's girl. He is looking at you. Looking at you with the same expression as Yuuji's girlfriend when she looks at Yuuji. And you know that Sukuna has found his person, too. 

You wake up in Sukuna's bed with his tall, firm body behind you, just like you do almost every morning now. You feel his lips against your skin, trailing gentle kisses up and down your neck. His voice is still hoarse from sleeping when he murmurs,

"Mine."

His arms tighten around you and pull you even closer to him. And you answer with a smile audible in your voice,

"All yours."

Your cheeks almost hurt from smiling so broadly when you feel Sukuna's matching smile against your neck and hear his whispered:

"Just like I am all yours."

I cried so much while writing this and listening to the song and looking at the beautiful fanart and the sadness in Sukuna's eyes. This version of Sukuna is my Achilles heel. I love this broken mess of a boy so much. I want to love him so bad and make him happy :(( This story hit me so hard, and the kissing scene is one of my favorite scenes I ever wrote. I am so emotional right now, but also so happy to share it with you.

Thank you so much to everyone who commented on the first part of this story, wishing for a happy end. I needed a happy end too, and I am so glad I wrote this!! This story is very personal. I could relate to Reader 100%, and I got the impression that a lot of people could see themselves in her, too. So I hope you could enjoy your happy end with Sukuna, just like I did 🖤

#sukuna x reader #sukuna #sukuna x you #sukuna x y/n #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk x y/n #sukuna fluff #jjk fluff

[mapofthemazeinthemirror]

When you’re sick

Warnings: none, one Monsters Inc. reference I hope won't confuse people

Please let me know which is your favourite!

☆ gender neutral reader

Soobin

You'd tried everything, from warm baths to drinking god-awful concoctions people swore by on the internet. But you were still sick. You'd been holed up in your bedroom for almost a week, leaving poor Soobin to have to sleep on the couch. You missed him, but you couldn't let him catch what you had. The only contact you'd had with him all week was through texting, and the meals he'd leave outside the bedroom door for you.

Of course, you'd been apart longer than this before; being in a successful group, Soobin often went on tour for months at a time. But this almost seemed harder, maybe because you felt miserable physically and just wanted to be held and loved on.

"I just wanted to see you," came his muffled voice, a hint whiny. "I won't come any further than this, I promise."

Sighing, you retreated from hiding. You hadn't seen him with your own eyes for what felt like longer than it actually was. There was no helping how good it felt to look at him now. "I miss you."

His lopsided smile gave you a rush of warmth. "Please get better before I go crazy."

You felt guilty. "I'm sorry. You can go and stay at Taehyun's if you-"

Soobin's mouth quirked, his brow creased. "It's not that. I just want to see you, touch you, have a real conversation. I want to hold you until we fall asleep." You felt the longing for him increase. "You always take care of me when I'm sick, even if you might catch it. Please, let me do the same for you."

His eyes held a helpless look that tugged at your heart as much as his words did. You felt your resolve crack, and it must have shown in your face, Soobin crossing the threshold and shuffling towards the bed. Relief flooded through you as he crawled up next to you and tucked you into his arms. His warmth was everything you'd needed for the past week, and he sighed as you buried your face against his neck. You swear you started melting when you felt his fingers in your hair. This was home.

Yeonjun

You weren't sure how long you'd felt like this. Time seems a blur when most of it is spent in bed, falling in and out of sleep and dreams. It took a monumental effort just to roll from one side to the other, so you couldn't remember the last time you'd eaten or showered. One small mercy was the fact that your ears were blocked, muffling the noise of the world outside the window; birds and neighbours dogs and traffic sounds couldn't disturb your sporadic naps.

Suddenly there was soft skin against your cheek, a warm palm and fingertips that you leaned into without question, and a deep sound somewhere close by. It took a few minutes for your mind to kick in and realise that these things were real and not a dream. Opening your eyes to the dim room, you found a face smiling down at you; your Yeonjun. But something was strange about this. Hadn't you been alone? Wasn't there a reason you were in the middle of the big bed, his pillow trapped between your arms?

"Junie?" You whinced as your voice seemed to reverberate through your head, your throat burning as the word tore through it.

"Hey, baby," he replied softly. You felt his fingers swipe the hair off your forehead before his nose was touching your own.

With what little strength you had, you tried to sink further into the mattress to put space between the two of you. "Jun, I'm- I'm sick."

"It's okay." You felt his arm slither under your back and peel you off the bed, pulling you into him. "I'm here."

You sniffled, swallowing against the dryness of your mouth that comes with not being able to breathe through your nose for so long. "Why?"

"'Why?'" He laughed. "Because the tour ended and I came home to you. Aren't you happy to see me?"

You nodded weakly against his chest. "Junie... I'm sick," you said again, half warning and half complaint.

His hand began to rub your back soothingly, and it felt so good to be in his arms again that you sighed heavily, raspily. "I know, babe, I'm sorry."

"You shouldn't..." Words were too hard. Instead, you brought your hand to his chest and tried to push him, rather feebly, away.

A large hand wrapped around your wrist, softly pulling your arm up over his shoulder. "I don't care. I missed you."

Not having it in yourself to argue, you surrendered, letting your body totally relax into his. You had pictured him coming home after tour very differently than this. You wanted to kiss him. You wanted to talk about his trip, but you couldn't fight your body. You heard the rumble of his voice again. "What?"

"I'll make you some chicken soup," he repeated. But as he tried to turn to leave the bed you grabbed a handful of his shirt. You heard him chuckle, and his arms were back around you again. "Maybe later, then."

Beomgyu

One minute you were studying, the next you were being woken by your phone blasting the most annoying ringtone Beomgyu had set for himself. You scrambled to snatch the phone off the desk where you had evidently fallen asleep. "Gyu? What time is it?"

"Half past the time you were supposed to meet me at the cinema."

Your heart sank. How long had you been asleep? "Oh no. I'm so sorry, I fell asleep."

"Why do you sound like you're talking into a tin can?"

Now that you were more awake, you noticed the feeling in your throat, the pounding of your head. Sure, falling asleep with your head on a desk wasn't the best, but you'd never known it to make your head feel like this. Come to think of it, you couldn't breathe through your nose very well either. You thought back and vaguely remembered your roommate having had a cough before she left for the weekend. There was a knock at the door.

"Hang on," you said into the phone, crossing the small space to open the door and-

"You look terrible," Beomgyu said, to your face and in your ear before hanging up. His cheeks were flushed, telling you he'd walked all the way here, in the cold, probably to check on you.

"Wow, thanks," you deadpanned as you let him in. "When's the next showing? Maybe we can make that one."

Your boyfriend pulled his hood down and looked at you for a moment before pressing his palm to your forehead. Trying not to flinch at the coldness of his hand, you looked up at him, his eyes still studying you.

"You're hot," he told you.

You scoffed, but it came out as more of a cough. "That's not what you were saying a minute ago."

Without another word, Beomgyu's hands were on your shoulders, turning you around and steering you through the small dorm room and sitting you down on your bed. Then he disappeared into the bathroom, coming back with a towel that he pressed against your head.

"I'm fine," you sighed. "Let's go see the movie."

Beomgyu tisked, gesturing for you to hold the towel before dipping to his knees to pull off your slippers. "The only movie you're seeing tonight is the DVD I got you for Christmas." Standing up again, he shooed you up the bed and pulled the covers over you.

"But we've seen that a hundred times," you whined. You'd been looking forward to a night out with your boyfriend; the movie, popcorn, leaving the confines of your dorm room after so many days and nights of studying.

"But you love it," he retorted, mocking your whiny tone. He handed you the remote for the tiny TV at the foot of your bed. "I'm guessing you haven't had dinner?" You shook your head. "Got any cup ramen?" You nodded.

You opened your mouth again to complain, but the words never came as Beomgyu kissed you on the top of the head and walked over to boil the kettle. Instead you let yourself sink into the comfort of your bed, only now noticing how exhausted you actually were. So you weren't going to get your date, but how could you complain when you had a boyfriend like this?

Taehyun

You were up before Taehyun this morning - an unusual occurrence. You'd woken up with a funny feeling in your throat and quickly but quietly escaped his room to cough without waking him. Then you'd tiptoed to the kitchen to boil water, eyes meeting with Yeonjun's who was sitting at the table eating cereal. His smirk said it all.

You were sat on the couch when Taehyun emerged from his room, tired eyes searching for you. By now, Soobin and Beomgyu were also sitting at the table eating. Taehyun plodded over to you. "Morning."

"Don't get contaminated," Yeonjun called, looking up from his phone. You narrowed your eyes at him.

Soobin, who looked like he could've still been half asleep, whipped his head up in confusion, chewing his toast with a new expression.

Taehyun's eyes swept from his friend to you, scanning your face for signs of anything amiss. "Are you not feeling well?"

"M'fine," you croaked, arms wrapped around yourself inside your hoodie as you tried to hold off a shiver.

"Tried to cough up a whole cat this morning," Yeonjun snitched. Soobin looked between Yeonjun and Beomgyu, still puzzled, his messy bed hair comedically flapping side to side.

You rolled your eyes, looking up at Taehyun with a small pout. "I just have a cough. It's probably the change in the weather."

"Or bronchitis."

Taehyun ignored the oldest boy's comment as he crouched down in front of you. "Do you want me to go to the pharmacy?"

"Really," you persisted. "I'm fine. I feel okay, just an itchy throat." As if on cue, you started to cough again, burying your face into the crook of your arm, then quickly tried to recover yourself. "I don't want you to worry."

"Sounds like a duck," Beomgyu said with a tone that gave away his amusement.

Taehyun sighed and rubbed up and down your arms comfortingly. "I just want to help you feel better, so anything you need, you just tell me, okay?"

You nodded. He stood up and went to the kitchen to start breakfast, giving you a kiss on the cheek first. Suddenly there was a commotion, as Beomgyu grabbed his breakfast bowl and ran from the kitchen yelling, "twenty-three nineteen!"

Huening Kai

The first thing that you noticed was a dull ache in your head. You'd taken some pain relief, thinking it was just a normal headache, and pushed on to get ready for your dinner plans. Kai's parents were always so happy to have you for dinner, and to see him catching up with them and his sisters made you happy, too.

You started to feel a little weak halfway through your meal, participating in conversation less and less, and after dinner you'd slipped away to a quiet room for what was supposed to be a few minutes. Your body felt heavy, more exhausted than what would be expected, and as you sat on an armchair in the dimly lit room, you became aware of the dull ache in your muscles. Eyes closing, the sound of distant chatter and laughter from the dining room lulled you quickly into unexpected sleep.

Kai had thought you were gone for the bathroom, and after ten minutes of your absence, his eyes flicking to the door every so often in anticipation of your reappearance, he thought he should check on you - maybe something you'd eaten wasn't agreeing with you. When he'd knocked on the bathroom door and there was no reply, he'd let himself in only to find it empty. He checked the kitchen, then the garden, then walked back to the dining room to see if you'd returned there while he'd been away. His mother joined him as he went to check the living room.

The two of them found you dozing and lowered their voices to a whisper, Mrs. Huening commenting that you hadn't seemed yourself earlier. Kai gently touched the back of his hand to your forehead and found it clammy. This, along with the headache you'd mentioned before the drive up and how quiet you'd been, probably meant you'd come down with something, and he decided to take you home.

That's how you woke up in Kai's arms, in the cold night air, on the way to the car. "There you are," he said when he noticed you awake. "Have a nice nap?"

You noticed a sore throat was beginning as you spoke, glancing around the street. "We're leaving?"

His soft brown eyes met yours as he continued to walk. His arms kept you steady against his chest, so you barely felt like you were on the move. "You're exhausted. You fell asleep."

You hated that you were the reason Kai's family time was being cut short and that you hadn't said goodbye to anyone. "I'm fine, Hyuka. Let's go back. Please?"

He came to a stop as he reached the car, looking down into your eyes again with a soft smile. "You need rest. We'll go home, I'll run a bath, and then we'll get into bed." Seeing you open your mouth to argue, he added, "Let me take care of you."

You couldn't argue with that.

written by mapofthemazeinthemirror - do not repost my work in any form

#txt imagines #sfw txt #txt scenarios #boyfriend!txt #huening kai fluff #huening kai imagines #beomgyu fluff #beomgyu imagines #beomgyu x reader #huening kai x reader #soobin imagines #soobin x reader #soobin scenarios #huening kai scenarios #beomgyu scenarios #txt fluff #txt soft thoughts #txt soft hours #yeonjun imagines #yeonjun fluff #yeonjun x reader #yeonjun scenarios #kpop imagines #taehyun fluff #taehyung x reader #taehyun imagines #taehyun scenarios #txt headcannons #txt comfort #sfw

[chaosandmarigolds]

I'm crying I need more Simon and Ollie here just so !!! maybe their dynamic with reader too

I need more Simon and Ollie too!!! So win - win!!’

Dad! Simon who, yeah admittedly, practically took over parenting for the first few months of marriage cause he ‘has time he has to make up for’

- waking up, cooking, going to the park, getting Ollie dressed, watching Bluey (loves bluely I will die on this hill) and anything and everything inbetween

Dad! Simon who loves holding Ollie’s hand as they walk, even though he has to be like lobsided to do it

Dad! Simon who lives for fishing trips, don’t ask why buy he and Ollie will wake up early, make pancake-

“Si- honey,” you grumble into the darkness as you feel the bed moving as he gets up, reaching out your arm- that he gently took a hold of and pressed a kiss to your wrist, “‘s early.”

He leans over more onto the bed, leaving a few kisses to your forehead and nose. “Olls and I ar’ gunna go fishing at th’ pond, wanted to wake up ‘fore him.”

With sleep still blurring your vision you rub yours eyes, trying to not let his showering of kisses falter your words, “Olls wakes up at 6 normally- four thirty in the morning Simon.”

“He’s gonna be up any second now, luv.”

“Oh yeah, cause you know-“

“ISTER RILEY IS FISH DAY.”

You quickly sit up in the bed to see your three year old standing in the doorframe of the bedroom, hair messy and the dinosaur pjs are wrinkled and lopsided- very much awake though. “Oliver-“

“Oops. No mean wake mommy, jus get ister Riley so we go fish.” His words are fake hushed as he toddles over to the bed, crawling onto it and then standing, making him a shocking only a foot and half shorter than Simon. “Fish day?”

“After breakfast, laddie.”

“no breakfast, we go fish now.”

“Mmm, no, big boys eat breakfast an’ then go fish.”

Dad! Simon who loves teaching Ollie all of the little in and outs of thing, like things he thought were common sense but in fact is not

Dad! Simon who when you don’t have a babysitter calls Price and his missus- meaning this conversation-

“Who Iser Money?”

“Price, laddie, ‘Ike the price of your toy- yeah?And…” Simon falters as he looks to you in the passenger seat, eyes down to your phone and your hand grasping is, “Jus call ‘em Grandfather, okay?”

Your head snaps up, giving your boyfriend a look as Ollie chirps happily in compliance. “Simon-“

“Leave it be, just till you meet them, okay?”

#simon riley x you #simon ghost x reader #simon riley fanfic #simon riley imagine #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost fanfiction #ghost imagine #ghost call of duty #cod ghost #simon ghost fluff #mw2 ghost #dad!simon riley #dad!ghost #dad simon riley #coco’s chaos <3 #cod x you #call of duty x reader #cod john price #john price #coco’s pre-k universe! <3

[lovebugism]

Could you pleaseeee do more single dad!Eddie 🥺

✶ ┄ MAYDAY ! [ stand by me ]

summary: after totally embarrassing yourself at eddie's kid's birthday party, the metalhead single dad from the trailer park shows you his (perhaps equally embarrassing) favorite movie. (2.9k)

pairing: dad!eddie munson / f!reader

tags: eddie and maeve universe, strangers to lovers (eventually), slow burn, mutual pining, idiots in love, girl dad eddie munson™, fluff, ugly crying at movies

You never did crack open that bottle.

The one you accidentally brought to Eddie’s kid’s birthday party? Yeah, that one. The glass container sits unopened on the coffee table in front of you, casting amber reflections on the old wood beneath the lamplight. It’s just a silly conversation starter now. You’ve got no real reason to drink it, anyway.

There’s nothing more intoxicating than Eddie Munson’s presence.

Sunrays spill from your mouth when you tip your head back to laugh. You turn to look at the boy on the other end of the couch, and your warm cheek squishes against the cushion. “Stand By Me is not your favorite movie!” you argue, giggling softly with disbelief.

Eddie has no idea how big he’s smiling. He’s too busy staring at you to notice the beam on his face. 

He shrugs his shoulders, now free from the confines of his leather jacket. He wears a faded Peanuts shirt now. A hand-me-down, you figure. “I mean… Land Before Time is a really close second,” he answers in a teasing lilt.

“Oh, yeah. Only the saddest movie ever made.”

“Maeve used to love it. And, like, not in a normal way— She used to make me play it for her until the tape spun out,” Eddie tells you, chuckling softly to himself. “It grew on me eventually, but… Then she grew out of it.”

You watch him get all forlorn at the thought. You meet his subtle pout with a scrunched nose. “Well, she’s only four, right? Surely, she hasn’t had time to grow out of much.”

Eddie scoffs and slouches further on the couch until his thighs spread. “You’d be surprised. Every time I think I— you know— start to understand her a little bit or whatever, she just… She changes, you know? Like, overnight.”

He doesn’t mean to get so suddenly sentimental about the whole thing. Especially not in front of a pretty girl he only met eight hours ago. He’ll blame it on the late night and the existential dread that always comes with birthdays. He conceals his brooding behind a dumb joke.

“I mean, just this morning, Maeve’s favorite animal was a Hefflelump… Now it’s a blobfish.”

You try to hold back your laughter. You fail. The sunshine-coated giggle sputters from your mouth despite your attempts to keep it hidden. Eddie only laughs because you are.

“I should’ve said turtle or something,” you humor with a roll of your eyes, tucking your knees to your chest. “Or, like, a badger. Maybe then I wouldn’t have gotten made fun of all day.”

“Those aren’t any less normal,” Eddie chuckles with a lopsided grin, dark chocolate eyes twinkling ‘cause he never really liked normal anyway.

You shrug. “Agree to disagree.”

“You wanna know something?” he blurts after a long beat of silent smiles. “When I tucked her in, she made me promise to take her to the aquarium tomorrow. Said she wanted to see ‘if the blobfish were just as gross in real life.’

You smile so wide your eyes squint at the edges. “Do they have blobfish at the aquarium?” you laugh.

Eddie shrugs. “Probably not. But she’ll get to pet a stingray or somethin’. Then she’ll forget all about it.”

“Sounds fun…” you murmur, picking at pills of cotton on the old couch with a suddenly anxious hand. 

“Yeah. Parenting always is,” Eddie hums with a distant smile. “Even when it isn’t.”

“Should I— Should I, like, go?” you stammer.

The boy seems shocked by your question. His fluffy brows pinch as he hums. “Huh?”

You squirm, less than comfortable in your own skin. “Well, I mean, it’s… It’s getting kinda late and everything, and… If you guys are going into the city in the morning, I don’t wanna, like, keep you or whatever—”

Suddenly anxious, Eddie sits up a little straighter. “No! No, it’s okay. I don’t mind,” he responds, then quickly follows with wide eyes. “Unless— Unless you want to leave—”

“I don’t!” you answer, equally flustered.

Eddie forces an awkward chuckle. “I don’t want you to think I’m, like, keeping you hostage here or something—”

“I just don’t wanna overstay my welcome—”

“You couldn’t,” he insists.

You nod, and in a mousy voice, you reply, “Well, you couldn’t keep me hostage, so…”

Eddie grins. “Good.”

“Good,” you echo.

“So… Wanna watch a movie or something?” he offers with a fluttering heart and fidgeting hands. 

He feels like a teenage boy all over again — only he never actually got the opportunity to ask a pretty girl out when he was a teenager. People weren’t exactly fighting to spend time with the local freak back then. Or now, really.

Except you.

“Whaddaya got?”

“Well, let’s see…” he says, grunting as he rises from the couch. 

Eddie walks the short distance to the box television across the room — which Maeve has carefully decorated with a collection of sparkly stickers. He sorts through the VHS tapes stacked in less-than-organized piles with a ringed hand, realizing must’ve left all the good stuff at Wayne’s.

“Oh, you know… All the Maeve Munson favorites…” he singsongs with a sigh.

“Surprise me,” you call from the couch.

Eddie rises then, with two bulky VHSs clutched within ringed fingers. He holds them on either side of his face and grins between them. “Stand By Me or Land Before Time?”

“Stand By Me,” you answer with a firm nod. “Unless, you know, you wanna see me ugly cry.”

“That’s second date territory,” he quips with a wink, suddenly and very uncharacteristically cool. “Stand By Me it is.”

—————

You’re crying on a stranger’s couch about ninety minutes later. 

The credits roll in static colors on the tiny television across from you. The low bass of a nostalgic song floats quietly through the living room — If the sky, that we look upon, should tumble and fall… Or the mountains, should crumble to the sea…

Eddie looks on with a sympathetic beam as you hide your teary face behind your palms. He can’t tell if you’re shaking from sobs or from laughter. Maybe a healthy mixture of both. “I thought you weren’t gonna cry!” he chuckles.

You peek at him through your fingers. Your eyes are glassy with tears and squinting at the edges with a smile. “I forgot how sad it was!” you sniffle, then laugh at yourself.

I won’t cry, I won’t cry… No, I won’t shed a tear…

“You’re crying, too!” you observe as the boy beside you wipes at his eyes with his fingertips. You reach over to shove him with a playful hand. “You big softy!”

Eddie scoffs and swipes his nose with the back of his wrist. “I’m not crying! I’m just… I had something in my eye.”

“Tears?” you tease with a scrunched nose.

He nods, and with a sheepish look in his eyes, he says, “Yeah…”

Your quiet laughter entwines, filling the dim living room with something sparkly and golden. The sound of violins swells in a similar way. Eddie’s eyes flutter shut as he begins singing the lyrics to himself, not really trying but sounding pretty anyway.

“Just as long, as you stand, stand by me…” he croons quietly. You beam and sing softly along with him, audibly less serious about the whole thing. “And darlin’! Darlin’! Stand by me… Oh, stand by me—”

Both of you quieten when a door squeaks about open down the hall. The distant screech is followed by the patter of tiny footsteps. Eddie huffs and sits up a little straighter. “Ah, shit…”

Your face floods with horror. “Was I too loud?” you whisper.

“No. It’s just midnight,” he answers, shaking his wild head. “She always wakes up at midnight. Like my personal little Gremlin.”

Maeve appears in the dark hallway then, drowning in one of her dad’s old t-shirts. Corroded Coffin, the front of it reads, in what seems to be hand-made lettering. The thing fits her like a gown. 

Her curls sit in an untamed halo around her head from the intensity of her slumber. She rubs at her swollen eyes with chubby fists. Eddie can’t help but grin at the sight of her. 

“Hey, Mayday,” he coos. “What happened? You can’t sleep?”

The girl shuffles to her father like it’s muscle memory to her. Still half-asleep, she grips his shirt with graceless fingers and climbs onto his lap with her eyes still shut. She cuddles into his torso, fitting perfectly there, while you sit frozen on the other side of the couch. Like maybe if you’re real still, she won’t notice you’re there.

“We gonna go see da blobfish now?” she wonders in tiny slurs against his chest.

Eddie’s cheek squishes against her head when he smiles. The expression gets lost in her wild chestnut locks. “Not yet, May. It’s too late— All the fishies are sleeping now. Like you should be.”

She shifts on his lap like she’s trying to get more comfortable there. Her cheek, indented with lines of sleep, rubs against his shirt when she turns to look up at him. “Need you to tuck me in,” she tells him, tiny chin bobbing against his chest.

Eddie juts back to see her better. “Again?” he humors with his brows raised behind his curly bangs.

“Mhmm,” she nods, slow and sleepy.

“Okay,” he hums, scoffing a tired chuckle. “I’ll tuck you in again, bug.”

You don’t mean to laugh. It just crawls up your throat and out of your mouth before you can stop it. You try to hide it behind your palm, but Maeve still notices. 

Her fluffy brows scrunch together when she turns to you. She swipes at the hair sticking to her cheek with a fumbling hand to see you better. She doesn’t say anything, though. She just kinda blinks at you, with a brown-eyed, emotionless gaze.

You muster a wavering smile at the girl, lifting your hand in an unsure wave.

“Wanna go see the blobfish with us tomorrow?” Maeve blurts. Though, in her less than awake state, it sounds more like wanna go see da bobfish wiv us tommowow? It’s like you can feel your heart melting.

“The aquarium,” Eddie clarifies.

You squirm in your seat. “Oh, I… I can’t,” you sigh, then follow quickly when she pouts. “I wish I could! It sounds super fun, but I’m… I’m busy…”

You aren’t, really. ‘Cause tomorrow’s Saturday — the only thing you really have to do is try to wake up before noon. You just don’t know how else to turn her down.

“Maybe next time?” Eddie offers hopefully, mostly for Maeve’s sake.

You nod rapidly, just for Maeve. “Yeah. Next time. Definitely.”

“See? It’s okay,” Eddie lilts, squeezing gently at the girl’s sides until she’s smiling again. “We can have fun just you and me, right?”

Maeve pouts in response, a sort of snarled face that’s obviously playful.

Eddie laughs loud and boyishly in return. “Hey! Don’t make that face at me!” he exclaims, feigning offense. Maeve loses her poker face almost instantly as she giggles. “Go get in bed, you weirdo. I’ll tuck you in in a second.”

“And read me another book?” she presses hopefully.

He nods, knowing it’s a fight he’s bound to lose. “And read you another book.”

“Two of them?”

The girl holds her pointer and middle finger in front of her face. Eddie chuckles and guides the latter back down with a gentle hand. “One,” he corrects.

“Two.”

“One.”

“Two!”

A brief stare-off ensues, one in which you’ve got a front-row seat. Maeve’s dark chocolate gaze resembles her father’s — button-eyed and swimming with something honeyed and stubborn. She tilts her chin to her chest and glares unwavering at the man in front of her.

Eddie inevitably caves. He sighs so deeply his chest deflates. “Fine… Two. But only if you run real fast.”

Maeves slides down his denim-clad legs until her bare feet hit the carpet. She scurries down the hall without another word, quiet giggles fading with her footsteps. Eddie slumps against the couch with a small, contented sigh. 

You realize you haven’t stopped smiling for several minutes now. “She’s really sweet,” you compliment to fill the silence.

Eddie scoffs a gentle laugh. “Yeah. When she wants to be.”

The quiet returns. You run out of things to say. The notion of the late-late night settles more heavily upon you. You swallow hard and fight for a way out that doesn’t make it sound like Eddie hasn’t just given you one of the best nights of your life. 

“I think I’m gonna—”

“Well, I should—”

The boy starts speaking at the same time as you. You cut each other off without trying, then laugh quietly at yourselves.

“You first,” you tell him.

“I should go tuck Maeve in before she goes all Mayday mode and starts screaming at me,” Eddie says, only partly joking. 

His sweet little Maeve is only Mayday when she’s throwing a too-passionate tantrum. Or when it’s past midnight, and she’s acting like a total gremlin. He doesn’t particularly want you to witness either. ‘Cause kids tend to be pretty gnarly sometimes — especially when you aren’t the one raising them.

“Yeah, I should probably start heading home, anyway,” you reply. “It’s late.”

Eddie rises with a small huff. You follow behind him towards the front door, both of you moving with slow and heavy strides — neither particularly wanting the other to go. 

“Thanks for keeping me company,” he says beneath the sound of the screeching screen door. “And for helping Maeve have a good day and everything… Most people don’t really consider hanging out with a four-year-old and her dad a good time, so…”

“Well, most people are weirdos,” you scoff and slide past him through the doorway. “You and Maeve are, like, the coolest people in Hawkins.”

You stand ahead of him on the front steps of the trailer, glowing beneath the silver moon and the buzzing amber porchlight. Eddie lingers in the entryway and holds the door open with his shoulder, so he can hear Maeve when she inevitably starts shouting for him.

“Yeah, I don’t know about that,” he wavers with a scrunched nose. “Maeve’s pretty cool and all, but… She definitely didn’t get that from me.”

“Your favorite movies are Land Before Time and Stand By Me,” you deadpan with a flat face. A smile inevitably pulls at your lips when you look at him too long, pretty as he is. “You’re cool, Eddie. Whether you wanna be or not.”

“Agree to disagree,” he grins, totally sheepish as he shrugs off the compliment. “Thanks for hangin’ around. Again.”

He feels like he’s said that too many times now, but he’s too full of gratitude to stop. It’s been just him and Maeve for so long. And, yeah, sure, Steve and Robin come around when they can, but they’ve got their own lives outside of this one. It isn’t every day someone appears at his trailer with a bottle of booze and the wherewithal to acclimate to his chaotic life.

Eddie feels like he should never stop thanking you, really.

You shrug. “Thanks for keeping me around. Again.”

“See you soon?” he wonders with a hopeful glint in his dark eyes, made a much lighter amber in the moonlight.

You nod firmly once. “‘Course.”

And even though that’s as good a dismissal as any, you both linger in the doorway still. Like your feet are glued in place. 

How are you supposed to walk away from him? The man with wild rockstar curls, rings on each finger, and a beaded bracelet with his daughter’s initial in the very center. The man who loves cartoons more than his toddler and cries with you at sad movies?

You figure you’ll spend forever chasing this foreign feeling he’s so effortlessly given you.

“Daddy!” Maeve shouts. Her high-pitched voice rings through the tiny trailer. It makes you wince a little. You didn’t think something so tiny could be so loud.

“And there’s Mayday…” Eddie lilts quietly, unflinching ‘cause he’s used to this by now.

“I’ll go,” you laugh, walking backward towards your car. “I’ll— I’ll see you around.”

“G’night,” he calls to you as he watches you go.

His chest stings when he realizes he never asked for your number. It feels much too awkward to do it now, and he’s only got a few minutes more before Maeve goes crazy on him. He should’ve asked you ages ago, really. But he didn’t. ‘Cause he’s an idiot.

You notice it, too, but you flash him a sheepish smile over your shoulder anyway. Even if you never hear from him again after you’re gone, you figure there’s always next year. 

Maeve will be another year older. Steve will bring you along to her party if you beg. Eddie will be in desperate need of a pick-me-up, and you’ll bring a bottle of booze just to make him smile. The alcohol will go untouched, though, as the two of you get lost in conversation and Stand By Me.

Even if all this was only destined to happen once every year — even if it was only supposed to happen once and never again — you’ll spend the rest of your life grateful that it happened at all.

With a cold hand trembling with longing, you wrench your car door open. Though your heart’s heavy with a distant worry that you may never be back here again, you grin at him through the grief and the small distance between you.

“Good night, Eddie.”

#published by bug #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #stranger things x reader #eddie munson #stranger things #eddie munson imagine #stranger things imagine #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #st drabbles #eddie spaghetti drabble #eddie and maeve

[vampsywrites]

III — i remember her hands, and the way the mountains looked.

Synopsis: In which the Sullys approach the mountain clan for sanctuary. The Olo'eykte agrees but proposes one condition: Toruk Makto's eldest son must be promised to her daughter. Surprisingly, instead of the solemn response one would expect, Neteyam agrees almost instantaneously.

Tags: Female! Mountain Na'vi! Reader, Arranged Marriage, Strangers to Lovers, Neteyam is whipped, A LOT of romantic tension

Word Count: 4.5k | AO3 LINK

< PREV | SERIES MASTERLIST | NEXT >

In the early morning light, you took Neteyam to a secluded spot in the village, away from prying eyes. Aside from being Tsahìk, your expertise in climbing with ropes and harnesses was also well-known, and you had taken it upon yourself to teach him the ropes — quite literally.

As you began the lesson, your arms gently guided him, demonstrating the proper way to tie and secure the rope over his waist and thighs. 

"Tuck this into here," you instructed, your voice soothing yet firm. "This must be tight to ensure safety. Watch."

Neteyam looked on, watching intently but his attention was elsewhere. 

Instead of fully absorbing your instructions. his eyes remained fixated on every detail of your unique appearance. From the slope of your flat nose, the curve of your lips, and the thickness of your eyelashes that accentuated your big, milky eyes. Along with this was his strange fascination with your frosty blue skin, ample and adorned with delicate ivory specks.

"Are you listening?" you check.

"Yes," he affirmed but this was far from the truth. 

In Neteyam's defense, he was listening, just not in the way you might have wanted. From the moment you met, you had been a woman of few words — reserved, and enigmatic. However, now, as you took on the role of his karyu, his teacher, Neteyam saw an opportunity to experience a different, more personal side of you. And so, he wanted to etch the sound of your voice into his memory, to savor every word that left your lips. 

Your voice had a lilt that captivated him — calm yet firm, with a low and husky undertone that was enhanced by your distinct Iuva'rian accent. Every now and then, your words would subtly slip, and your village dialect would shine through, adding an intriguing layer of depth to your teaching.

The sound of you clearing your throat snapped him out of his deep thoughts, and the Omatikayan blinked blearily, shaking his head for a few seconds to refocus his attention. Dismissing his momentary distraction, you reached out and handed him the end of the rope.

"Attach the end of the rope to this tree," you instructed, pointing to a massive pine nearby. Neteyam moved to tie a secure anchor around the trunk, ensuring it would hold firm. You then took the other end of the rope and demonstrated how to loop it through his harness, which was fashioned from sturdy leather. To your relief, Neteyam paid proper attention this time and followed your instructions to the best of his ability.

"This harness will distribute your weight. Allowing you to use your hands and legs more freely," you explained, patting the leather. "It is your lifeline."

Stepping back, your eyes ran up and down his body, assessing everything. You noticed how he hadn't secured his harness properly, the rope left uncomfortably loose. With a huff of disapproval, you settled in front of him, your focused gaze fixed on his mistake. Your hands, soft yet purposeful, moved with practiced ease as you adjusted the harness, ensuring it was secure and would hold his weight properly. 

As your fingers brushed against his lower abdomen and thighs, a surge of static energy seemed to pass between you, and a shiver ran up Neteyam's spine from the unexpected sensation. The closeness between you, the shared proximity, made his heart race, and he found himself mesmerized by every move you made.

Tilting your head up, you caught his gaze, and a lopsided frown appeared on your lips. 

"You are looking at me with those eyes again," you chided.

"What eyes?" he murmured, still dazed and lost in his admiration of you.

"You must stop staring at me," you responded with a hint of a snarl, trying to bring his focus back to the lesson.

"Can't I stare at my future mate?" he grinned smugly, tail swinging by his feet languidly.

In response, you hissed and gave him a light slap on the side of his head. "Focus. Your form is bad. Fix it."

With an amused expression, Neteyam firmly gripped the side of the rock wall and adjusted his posture, heart set on impressing you and proving his worth.

"No," you tutted, stepping back to demonstrate the proper posture. You inhaled deeply, showcasing how to engage the core muscles and tighten the abdomen.

"Stronger," you instructed, tapping at your tensed stomach to emphasize the point.

He tried to emulate your actions, sucking in air and adjusting his form, but the task proved more arduous than he anticipated. Frustration flickered across your face, and Neteyam couldn't help but feel a pang of dissatisfaction, his ego taking a hit.

Again, you moved towards him, now pressing your front against his back. As your arms encircled him, a wave of searing heat surged through his body, leaving him breathless. His heart pounded wildly in his chest as your breath brushed against the back of his neck, sending shivers down his spine. 

Your hands, warm and gentle, traced the contours of his bare, muscled skin as you adjusted his arms and sides. The intimate touch sent his mind into a whirlwind of emotions, and he struggled to focus on anything other than the intoxicating proximity between you.

Finally, once his form was proper, you stepped away to view his posture, still unaware of the effect your touch had on him.

"Good," you hummed with approval. "Keep that form as we climb."

As you prepared him to start ascending, you placed a calming hand atop his chest, noticing how his heart pounded rapidly beneath your touch. Unaware of the true reason for his flustered state, you peered up at him, thinking he might be having second thoughts about the climb.

"You are scared?" you questioned, the slightest hint of concern in your voice.

"'M not scared," his words came out in a mumble as he tried to hide the truth. "Why would I be scared?"

Huffing softly, you made one last adjustment to his form, your hands gently pressing at his hard abdomen and slapping at any awkward limb placement, an effort to help him overcome whatever uncertainties he might be facing. 

"Listen. As you climb, I'll stay below to control the rope. If you slip or lose your grip, I'll hold the rope tight to catch you," your small hands brushed up his jawline, turning his head to face you. "Trust me as I trust you."

"Got it," Neteyam nodded and began his climb. He moved upward, his hands trembling as he gripped the coarse surface of the rock, his fingers struggling to find solid handholds. Each time he tried to place his foot on a protruding edge, it slipped, sending small pebbles cascading down the cliff face. 

He took a moment to assess the rock in front of him, his eyes scanning for the best path upward. After a few deep breaths to steady himself, he made a decision and reached out, testing a small crevice with his fingertips. It seemed secure enough, so he cautiously shifted his weight and pulled himself upward.

"Ngh!" Neteyam grunted, his biceps straining as he lifted himself higher up the rock wall. Despite his efforts, his initial progress was still awkward and uncoordinated. He swung his legs around, searching for footholds, but it seemed like every attempt led to more frustration. Beads of sweat formed on his forehead, and his face burned with both exertion and embarrassment as he struggled to find his rhythm.

He had thought it would be easy, considering how he climbed trees all the time back home, but the mountains presented a whole new challenge. They lacked branches or sturdy trunks to cling onto; instead, they were rough, wide, and open, demanding an entirely different set of skills.

"You are like a baby! You think too much!" you scolded, picking up on his indecision and observing the rigid strain in his back muscles. "Find the holdings in the rock!"

"I am trying," Neteyam replied, voice tinged with frustration. The rough terrain scratched at his skin, his arms strained as he struggled to find the right grip, and the weight of each step felt heavier with every passing moment. "It is not as easy as you say it is!"

"Look for the natural holds, the cracks, and the crevices," you advised, drawing from your own experiences scaling these heights. "Use your instincts, and trust your body. The mountain will guide you."

Neteyam nodded, but his struggles persisted, and it was evident that he was stiff, overthinking each and every step. If he continued on like this, the risk of a fall was high.

"Mawey. Take a moment to rest," you urged firmly. He obliged and halted his movements.

With the climb momentarily paused, Neteyam caught his breath and tilted his head back to take in the breathtaking view before him. The sight punched a gasp out from his chest—the vast fields stretching out like a painted canvas, the lush forests below, carpeting the landscape in vibrant greens, and the riders gracefully soaring on their ikrans high above. 

The soft caress of the gentle breeze kissed his cheeks, carrying along leaves and the scents of flora that adorned the mountain's slopes. As the wind brushed through his hair, Neteyam closed his eyes for a moment, feeling the peace and tranquility that settled over him. 

"Try again, Neteyam," you shouted up at him. "Let the rock guide you. Slow your pace and take your time; it's not a race."

Taking a deep breath, Neteyam attempted to ease his pace, allowing himself a moment to study the wall of stone before him. He faintly began to recognize the patterns and natural holds, the crevices, and folds that could be used to his advantage.

With newfound focus, he started to move more freely, trusting his instincts and allowing his body to flow with the terrain. His motions became less rigid, and he started to use the momentum of his body to propel himself upward, one confident movement at a time.

"That's it," you encouraged, an impressed smile gracing your face. "You are learning to climb. Let the mountain become an extension of yourself."

As Neteyam climbed higher, he discovered a sense of connection with the ancient stone, almost as if he and it were in sync. The initial clumsiness gave way to a familiarity he hadn't known he possessed. The wind played with his hair, and the distant calls of the mountain banshees echoed through the slopes above. Time seemed to slow as he focused solely on the present moment, the climb becoming an intimate conversation between him and the mountains.

Overlooking the village, you and Neteyam now stood at the high plateau, the world spread out below you like a vast canvas. The mountains had always been your personal sanctuary, a place where you found peace and strength, a respite away from the stress of your responsibilities. So, seeing Neteyam experience this awe-inspiring view for the first time brought a smile to your face.

You moved to sit by him, taking his hands in yours, and carefully tending to the scratches on his arms with a salve you always carried. The soothing ointment provided a gentle touch to his roughened skin, and he looked at you with a mix of gratitude and affection.

"It is rare for someone to pick things up so quickly. You are a very fast learner," you say, breaking the silence to praise him. "You also do not give up easily. You have a strong heart."

"Thank you," Neteyam replied, pride evident in his voice as he preened from your heartfelt compliments, a fanged grin stretching across his cheeks.

He then turned his attention back towards the view, his eyes sparkling with wonder and captivation as he beheld the breathtaking beauty spread out before him. 

"It is like nothing I've ever seen," Neteyam marveled, his voice thick with an accent native to the forests. "Back home the sky is usually hidden by tall trees. You'd have to climb up one if you want a glimpse."

Pausing your ministrations, you leaned toward him. "Tell me more," you urged, genuinely curious. "What is it like in the forest?"

A spark ignited in Neteyam's eyes as he delved into a passionate account of his experiences in his home village. He spoke with animated enthusiasm, painting vivid pictures of the lush greenery that adorned the landscape, each vibrant flora seemingly glowing with its own bioluminescent brilliance. The rivers and cascading waterfalls he described were a source of life, teeming with an abundance of fresh fish. 

With every word, he brought to life the swift direhorses, their graceful forms racing across the terrain, and the fearsome thanators, lean and agile stalking through the night. Mixed in with that joy, there was a longing in his voice, a yearning to experience it once more.

"Do you miss it?" you asked, cutting him off gently, your keen perception sensing the ache in his heart.

"Yes," he sighed wistfully, the weight of nostalgia evident in his chest. "I really do."

You offered a comforting presence, placing a hand over his shoulder in a gesture of solace. The two of you then moved to lay on the soft grass, resting side by side in the embrace of nature. A companionable silence settled between you, hearts connected over the memories of home and the beauty of the world you both cherished.

In the midst of this peaceful moment, a question that had lingered in your mind resurfaced.

"Neteyam?" you called out, turning on your side. His ears flicked in curiosity as he looked towards you, brows raised.

"The banshee you rode a few days ago... Was she yours?" you murmured softly.

"Yes," Neteyam confirmed, a fond smile touching his lips. "Do you want to meet her?"

You nodded eagerly, and he stood up, offering you a hand. You took it, his battle-hardened palm was rough against your skin but his touch had a comforting warmth to it. With a gentle tug, he effortlessly lifted you off the ground, dragging you toward the edge of the peak.

Emitting a powerful cry, Neteyam called for his ikran, the sound echoing through the air. Moments later, the sky came alive with the powerful flapping of wings, and she arrived with a resonating squawk. Her mighty form hovered before you, and you were left breathless by the sight of her robust wings enveloped in the light. 

As she landed gracefully before you, you couldn't help but be in awe of her presence. Her eyes, filled with intelligence and a hint of curiosity, locked onto yours, and it felt as though she could see into your very soul.

Neteyam approached his ikran with a calm and composed demeanor making tsaheylu.

"This is Seze," he introduced you to her. "I have been flying with her ever since I was thirteen."

Your excitement was palpable as you gazed upon the majestic banshee before you. Your hand reached out cautiously, not wanting to startle her, as you gently stroked her strong chest and neck. The sensation of her thick, supple skin beneath your fingers sent a thrill through your entire being.

"She is beautiful," you cooed, tail swishing behind you in joy. 

"Yes. Very beautiful." Neteyam's response was soft, and though he agreed with your sentiment, it was clear that his focus wasn't on Seze. Instead, his gaze was fixed on you, and you could feel the intensity of his stare as if he was trying to memorize every detail of your being. There was something in the way he looked at you, a certain depth of emotion that couldn't be easily put into words.

A warm and shy smile graced your lips as you turned away from Neteyam, now facing back toward the vast expanse of the open sky.

"I too will show you mine," you declared. With a sharp whistle, you called for your ikran to join the encounter. 

In response to your call, your spirit sister appeared in all her glory, gliding gracefully through the air before landing near you with an air of elegance. Beaming, you watched as her wings fluttered in excitement. It had been long since you last met up with her. Your duties as Tsahìk had kept you busy for a long, long while.

"This is Ayvit. She is my spirit sister," you proudly gestured to her. Reaching for your kuru, you gently made tsaheylu, cooing affectionately at your sweet girl.

"It is nice to meet her," Neteyam said warmly as he moved to run a hand up your ikran's snout. Ayvit let out a soft chirp as if acknowledging Neteyam and his banshee, and you couldn't help but smile at the interaction between them.

"I think she likes me," he remarked, observing the gentle way Ayvit tilted her head in his direction.

"Yes, you are very likable," you replied, timidly averting your gaze to the ground.

"I am?" Neteyam grinned, his expression filled with a mix of amusement and charm. It was evident that his confidence had grown during your time together, and that paired with your newfound ease around his presence further deepened your growing relationship.

With a shake of your head, you gently nudged at his head in a playful manner. Then, turning around, you reached into Ayvit's saddle, retrieving a riding visor from the compartment. As you lifted it up, it became evident that this visor was unlike anything Neteyam was accustomed to seeing back home.

Your riding visor had an exotic design, native to your clan. It was rounder and adorned with vibrant colors and shimmering gems, a striking contrast to the simpler styles he was used to. The woven headpiece was crafted in a soft lilac hue, complementing your skin's natural blue tone. 

After slipping off your headpiece that denoted your status as Tsahìk, you placed the visor atop your head, securing it around your ears. The moment seemed to mark a shift, as you felt a sense of liberation wash over you as if you were shedding the formalities to reveal a more unburdened and personal side of yourself to Neteyam.

With practiced ease, you moved towards Ayvit, a rush of anticipation surging through your veins. You climbed onto the saddle, feeling the smooth, cool leather beneath your fingertips. Quickly, you secured yourself, making sure the bindings were tight and fastened well.

"Come," you grinned at Neteyam, tail coiling as a glint of thrill danced in your eyes. "Let's ride!"

With a whoop of exhilaration, you urged Ayvit forward, and with a powerful thrust of her wings, she propelled herself off the mountain peak. Neteyam laughed as he swiftly mounted Seze and joined you in flight. 

As you and Neteyam soared through the vast open skies, the wind tousled at your hair and caressed your cheeks, carrying the scents of the wild. The beating of Ayvit's powerful wings resonated in perfect rhythm with Seze's. 

Peals of laughter slipped from your lips, blending with the rush of air around you. Gazing at Neteyam, you couldn't help but be captivated by the joy etched on his face. His eyes sparkled with excitement, and a radiant, handsome smile adorned his features. 

Together, you explored the breathtaking landscapes from above, the lush forests, the winding rivers, and the towering mountains painted in hues of orange and pink by the setting sun. Ayvit and Seze seemed to revel in the thrill of the flight, each spread of their wings carrying you higher and further, as if they, too, were caught up in the strengthening of your bond.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, the hues of warm sunset in the sky washed away, now bathed in the tranquil colors of twilight. With Ayvit and Seze now keeping a steady pace, you and Neteyam glided side by side, enjoying the serene, dreamlike ambiance of the atmosphere.

"We have to return soon," you called out to Neteyam. The warrior looked to you in confusion.

Guiding Ayvit to fly closer to his side, you reminded him, "I promised your brothers and sisters I would teach them how to make a healing salve. They must be waiting."

Neteyam merely hummed in response, his gaze lingering on you with a tender smile. 

"Let them wait," he spoke softly. "I want to spend more time with you."

His words stirred a delightful flutter in your chest, and you couldn't help but feel a smile creep onto your face. With a subtle click of your tongue, you urged Ayvit to turn slightly, now flying a bit farther from him.

Shifting your gaze, you couldn't help but steal secret glances at Neteyam's figure, utterly mesmerized as he skillfully guided Seze through the night sky. 

Eywa... Had he always been this handsome?

His thick, braided hair, the color of dark ink, cascaded down his broad shoulders, catching the moonlight as it whipped through the crisp air. His strong, sharp jaw and cheek exuded a rugged masculinity that contrasted beautifully with the gentleness in his eyes. Those eyes, the color of rich gold and flecked with hues of deep burgundy were windows to a soul that carried the weight of the world. 

Neteyam was both beautiful and mighty.

And he was to be yours.

Late at night, your healing hut exuded a soothing atmosphere, filled with the soft glow of torchlight and the gentle radiance of bioluminescent plants which cast a gentle, ethereal glow that bathed the room in cool colors.

Tuktirey, with her wide, curious eyes, wandered around the room in awe. She was captivated by the sight of the glowing medicinal flora adorning the walls, and her small hands reached out to explore the many trinkets that adorned your hut. With childlike wonder, she immersed herself in the enchanting environment, discovering new wonders at every turn.

Meanwhile, you and the older Sully kids gathered around a table. Guiding them step-by-step, you taught them the art of crafting a simple healing salve, constantly emphasizing its importance for treating mild injuries.

"This is called ngamut," you patiently explained, the unfamiliar dialect causing some confusion among them as they struggled to pronounce the word.

"Gamut?" Neteyam attempted, his accent thick, making an earnest effort to mimic the foreign syllables.

Shaking your head, you repeated it once more, enunciating it more clearly, "Ngamut."

"Agamut?" Neteyam toyed with you, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

In response, you huffed and affectionately flicked the side of his head. 

"Ngamuutt," you emphasized, drawing out the word to help him get the pronunciation right.

"Ngamuutt," he repeated, his smile growing wider, knowing he finally got it correct. With a nod of approval, you resumed stirring the paste, your skilled hands expertly mixing the ingredients.

“You two are already acting like a mated couple,” Lo'ak teased, lazily holding his bowl of paste in one hand. The medicine in the bowl, if you could even call it that, was a sad mess of lazily torn leaves and clumsily poured syrup, hardly resembling a proper healing salve.

"Leave them be," Kiri rolled her eyes, taking the monstrosity of a paste away from Lo'ak and attempting to salvage it. "I think it's good that they are getting along well."

"We really do," Neteyam agrees, his expression soft as he peered at you. He holds your stare for a moment before turning to his siblings.

"But I have to tell you—she is a very harsh teacher. It's either her way or die," he grins.

You couldn't help but smirk at his remark. "I told you I wasn't going to baby you," you retorted, playfully flicking a bit of the messy paste towards him.

Neteyam laughed, the sound like music to your ears. "I know, I know," he replied, his grin never fading. "But I have to admit, your teaching methods are effective."

"I am aware," you replied with a smug look before swiftly snapping back into your stern demeanor. "But this flattery will get you nowhere. Come now, let me see your paste."

As you leaned over to inspect the paste Neteyam had made, he unexpectedly turned his face toward you. The sudden movement caused his lips to brush against yours, and you both froze. For a moment, time seemed to stand still. Both your eyes met—milky blues locking with golden browns—as you both silently drank in each other's features.

Faintly, you could feel Neteyam's hand brushing gently against your sides, and a shiver ran up your spine from the touch of his calloused fingers against your skin. The connection between you felt electric, a tingling sensation spreading through your body.

The daze was broken as Kiri cleared her throat, interrupting the moment. Both of you snapped out of your trance, but the lingering tension between you and him remained palpable, shimmering just beneath the surface. A touch of bashfulness colored your expressions, cheeks flushed from the shared vulnerability of that brief, intimate encounter. 

Lo'ak's smug expression didn't help, fangs poking out from his lips in a teasing grin. You shot him a half-hearted glare, hoping to deter any further teasing, but it only seemed to fuel him.

"Well," he chimed, "looks like you two had quite the moment there."

"Lo'ak, your paste is going to end up poisoning someone," you snapped, trying to deflect the attention from the romantic moment. "Fix it."

Lo'ak's mouth dropped in shock, an offended expression washing over him as he began to protest. Ignoring his complaints, you quickly regained your composure and shifted your focus back to the lesson at hand.

"Neteyam, your paste is watery," you pointed out. "Add more leaves and stir it slowly to thicken it up."

The warrior nodded, still looking a little flustered as he busied himself with the medication, trying his best to focus and ignore the lingering warmth from the almost kiss. 

Throughout the lesson, glances were exchanged, small smiles were shared, and the air seemed thick with your unspoken feelings. Kiri and Lo'ak could clearly notice the change, sharing knowing looks between themselves. Despite this, they chose to respect the unspoken bond forming between you and Neteyam, allowing you both the space to navigate this new territory.

As the night wore on, you finally deemed them capable enough, and the lesson was complete. The Sullys began to gather their things, expressing gratitude for your teaching and slowly making their way out of the hut. Neteyam, however, stayed back for a moment, his intense stare lingering on you. 

Before he left, he took a step closer, and with a tender touch, ran a hand up your cheek, his rough fingers gentle against your skin. The touch of him against you sent a pulse of warmth through your body, and you leaned into the warrior's touch, savoring the tender moment. 

"I'll see you tomorrow, syulang," he whispered, his voice filled with a mix of affection and anticipation.

"Tomorrow," you replied softly, caressing the back of his hand, feeling the steady beat of his heart pulsating through his veins.

As the Sully kids bid their final farewells and left your hut, you pressed your back against the woven door, trying to steady your racing heart. The soft glow of torchlight and bioluminescent plants bathed the room, mirroring the gentle pink glow that now enveloped your very being.

"I see him," you draw in a sharp breath, a hand clasping over your chest.

< PREV | SERIES MASTERLIST | NEXT >

some romance is finally blooming ! it would be so bad if something happened to our couple, huh? also guys, i can't thank you enough for the comments! there are a lot of them from both my ao3 and tumblr so i get overwhelmed and don't know what to reply but just know that i appreciate it all so much! xoxoxo

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If you can't see your blog, that means I could tag you! :(

#💫—vampsywrites #neteyam sully x reader #neteyam x reader #neteyam sully #neteyam #neteyam x you #neteyam x na'vi!reader #neteyam x y/n #neteyam fic #neteyam fanfiction #avatar neteyam #avatar #avatar x you #avatar x reader #avatar x na'vi reader #neteyam sully x y/n #neteyam sully x you #atwow neteyam #netyam sully #atwow #avatar the way of water

[cinnamoneve]

satoru’s favorite past time is staring at you. that means he is so very aware of everything, so he picks up on the little things you do— especially your facial expressions. he finds himself subconsciously copying your facial expressions while you tell him stories. knows you well enough to know what the slightest twitch in your right eyebrow means. fan behavior imo 🙄🙄

sweet angel girl i love this one sm i had to elaborate on it .... he's so sick in the head (i need him)....

"why are you looking at me like that?'

satoru leaned on the counter, cheek squishing as his palm supported his head up.

"i'm not looking at you in any way, really," he teased.

you pursed your lips just a bit, as you always did when satoru was being an ass. it was a little way of suppressing a smile from creeping up on you--better not let his ego get too inflated.

"hmm..."

narrowing your eyes a bit, you studied his little lopsided grin as all he could do was smile back at you.

he copied you, pursing his lips a little and sitting up straighter as he narrowed his eyes to read you better.

and he never realized he was doing it. subconsciously, something deeply comforted him about mirroring the person he loved.

you see, satoru would swear up and down that he could sculpt your sweet face from memory; the plump curve of your cheeks, the way your nose contours into the lips he's kissed a million times, and hopes he could kiss a million more.

neither of you realized that you'd become reflections of the other. to be loved is to be changed, as they say; even in the most minuscule ways. maybe it's the purse of your lips, how you instinctively lean in the same way satoru does when he's trying to hear better, or perhaps it's even simpler than that.

maybe other little habits have taken home in your routine that you'd never care to admit, or even notice.

but as you look at the white haired boy in front of you, his eyes still sleepy and body still heavy, you figured it probably wouldn't be a big deal if you two were more similar than you thought.

"you're looking at me like you want something," you lean in more to him, keeping your eyes narrowed in on him.

"oh am i?" he laughs, "maybe there is something small,"

you already knew where this was going.

you mirrored his body language, leaning on the counter to face him with your chin on your palm. you tried not to smile, but rolled your eyes instead.

"and what would that be, baby,"

satoru pushed his lips inward, keeping eye contact.

"just one kiss, please," he asked softly.

you pushed your lips inwards, not even knowing you were copying him.

you finally let the smile take over your oh-so-stoic expression, impossible to hide anything from him.

it was no surprise as you leaned into him to fulfill his sole wish. one more kiss in the bank for satoru.

all content © cinnamoneve 2024. do not repost, modify, steal, or copy without permission.

#ଘ(੭ˊᵕˋ)੭ kat bby!! #kat has never missed once in her life #and i want her bad #im giving this ask the sloppiest head rn ong #anyways haha what was THAT !!! #gojo satoru headcanons #gojo satoru x reader #gojou satoru x reader #satoru gojo #gojo satoru #jjk fluff #jjk x reader #jjk #jujutsu gojo #jujutsu sorcerer #jujutsu kaisen x reader #★ jujutsu kaisen #satoru x reader #gojo fluff #gojo satoru fluff #jjk headcanons #gojo headcanons

[girlgenius1111]

don't you trust me?

r gets into a fight. mapi is not happy.

-----

Most of the time, you enjoyed living with Ingrid and Mapi. It was fun, and you liked that you didn't have to be responsible all the time. You were 18, so technically you could live on your own, but the older girls had insisted you stay with them at least another year. You'd fought it initially, but then they got Alexia on their side, and there wasn't really much you could do.

However, today, their presence in your life only complicated matters. You walked in the front door, on your way back from tutoring, trying to sneak past them, right up the stairs to your room. You needed to fix your face, as well as you could, before they could see you. Really, you weren't sure you'd be able to do enough, but you needed to try.

You were finishing your school, which you did online, but you saw a tutor every week to ensure you were doing alright in everything. There were other kids there that saw the same tutor and they'd taken to... hating you. Really hating you.

You weren't sure if it was because they were jealous, you were living out your dream career, after all, or if they were just mean. Either way, they'd been teasing you for months, most of which you could ignore, as you only saw them once a week.

Today, though, you had lost your patience. It was already dark when you walked out of the building, and they'd walked behind you, cracking mean jokes per usual. You weren't sure why it bothered you more today, but it did. You turned, letting out a string of insults that they were left astounded at. You'd turned back around, heading in the direction of your apartment again, which was only a short walk away, when the girl whose mother you'd just insulted grabbed the back of your shirt, wrenching you backwards. To be completely honest, you'd thrown the first punch. It had been instinct. What followed was a fight you were honestly kind of proud of. Your face didn't really tell the full story; you looked like you'd been jumped, but really, you'd held your own against three other people.

You felt kind of guilty, because you'd pushed things to become physical. If you'd ignored them like usual, they wouldn't have taken it further. Instead, you couldn't keep your mouth shut, and now... well.

Surprisingly, you made it to your room, quickly shouting out a greeting to the older girls before shutting your door behind you. You look in the mirror that hung over your dresser, inspecting your face. Your hands were heavily bruised around the knuckles, but nothing was broken. Sure, your nose looked a little lopsided, one of your eyes was swollen shut, there was a cut above your eyebrow that hadn't stopped bleeding, and you're not sure the one on your lip doesn't need stitches, but you're fine. Completely fine.

You hear Ingrid's footstep just a second too late, and she's knocking quickly before opening your door. You freeze, as her question about what you want for dinner dies on her lips, jaw dropping open instead at the sight of your mangled face.

"Y/n, what the hell?" She asks, clearly making a big effort to stay calm. You don't really know how to answer, but she doesn't wait for you to. Instead, she grabs your arm, pulling you out of your door and down the stairs.

"María. María!!!" she shouts, and you attempt to stop in your tracks, but she continues to pull you along.

"Que paso?" Mapi asks, walking around the corner into the living room where you are standing with Ingrid.

"Ask her." Ingrid says, gesturing back to you. Mapi's eyes fall on you, widening, before she swears, moving closer to take your face roughly into her hands.

"Fuck, Mapi, that hurts," you cry out.

"Sorry, sorry," she says, hands softening on your face. Ingrid is standing behind her, looking furious, and you know you're in trouble. This isn't the first fight you've gotten in, but it had been a while. Your teammates had made it clear they wouldn't tolerate any of that. This was the worst it had ever gone for you, that much was clear by the state of your face.

"What happened?" Mapi asks, voice dangerously low.

"I got in a fight." Maybe you should have answered what you knew she was really asking, but your face hurt, they hadn't even heard your side of things, and they were already mad. You weren't really in the mood to talk about it, either.

At your response, Ingrid lets out a long exhale, turning to go into the kitchen. Mapi is staring hard at you, and you shrink under her gaze.

"What happened?" she asks again.

"The other kids that see my tutor. They don't like me very much."

"Did you swing first?"

"Yeah, but-"

"-Y/n, we've talked about this!" Mapi says, raising her voice slightly.

"I know, but-"

"-no buts! This isn't acceptable, you know that. What were you thinking?"

You weren't really expecting Mapi to get that mad at you, honestly. Normally she let Ingrid deal with your fights, and yell at you, but Mapi hadn't ever yelled at you before. You felt your eyes, really one eye, begin to water, and you look down, avoiding her gaze. It's not fair, she's not even hearing your side of things.

"I'm talking to Alexia and Jona, and you're going to be benched until you prove that you can act like an adult," Mapi continues. You know that this is likely an empty threat, so you stay silent. It still hurts, though, that she just assumes the fight was your fault.

Ingrid has reentered the room, an ice pack in hand, and she walks to your side, tilting your chin back up to inspect your wounds.

"María, calm down," she says, giving her girlfriend a look.

"No. This is ridiculous. I thought we could trust you." Mapi seethes, and you pull away from Ingrid, a flash of anger flowing through you.

"You don't want to hear my side of things? You just assume I started it? That's not fair, Mapi. If you want to yell at me, do it later, when my face isn't bleeding." You spit out, both girls looking startled at your outburst. Without another word, you turn, slipping shoes on and grabbing your keys, before walking out the front door, ignoring their calls for you to come back.

Angry tears are flowing down your face, burning the various cuts they come into contact with, and you wipe away at them as carefully as you can. Your feet carry you down the block, and you're knocking on the door before you can even really think about what you're doing.

It doesn't really make sense; logically, Alexia would be just as mad at you as the other 2 were but you didn't know where else to go, and you knew she would patch you up. You wanted Ingrid to do it, really, but you couldn't go back there now, not when you were so upset.

Alexia answered the door, gasping when she sees you.

"Pequeña? Que paso?" she asks, reaching a hand out to pull you inside. Her hands fly to your face, inspecting your wounds, and she's bringing you to the bathroom before you can answer.

"I got in a fight."

"Pequeña," Alexia sighs, applying pressure to the cut on your forehead, and to the one on your lip.

"It wasn't my fault! I hit first, but if I hadn't, they would have. There were 3 of them, I was just trying to be smart."

"3?" Alexia asks, eyebrows flying up.

"And then I got home and Ingrid saw and she got Mapi and Mapi yelled, and she didn't even ask me what happened really, she was just so mad," you cry.

You hear a frantic knock on Alexia's door, and she sighs, instructing you to hold the towels to your face. "Did you run out of there?" She asks over her shoulder, heading for the door.

Clearly, Alexia knew who was at the door, as did you.

"Yes."

You hear Alexia open the door, and tell the girls that yes, you're in the bathroom. You wouldn't have expected her to lie, but still, you don't want to see Mapi. At least this, Alexia seems to understand, as Ingrid comes down the hall alone, pulling you into a hug as soon as she's close enough, ignoring the blood getting on her shirt. You collapse into her, and she holds you up, hands rubbing your back softly.

"I'm sorry, elskling, we should have made sure you were okay, and heard you out before we got mad." She speaks the words into your ear, and if you had been mad at her, the guilt in her voice would have been enough for you to forgive her.

"I'm not really mad at you," you mumble. She laughs at that.

"I can't blame you for being mad at her. She just worries about you. You scared her, she doesn't like seeing you hurt." Ingrid says, and you nod, knowing she's right. "Cmon, let's fix your face." She grabs the first aid kit, and your hand, pulling you out into the living room where Mapi stands with Alexia, who appears to be scolding her. That gives you some satisfaction.

Ingrid sits you on the couch, and Alexia joins her, both girls inspecting the cuts, and your nose. Mapi stays against the wall, staring at the floor.

"I don't think either need stitches," Ingrid says, and Alexia nods in agreement.

"I don't think her nose is broken, either. Just swollen." Alexia notes. You sigh in relief. No hospital.

They use Alexia's extensive first aid kit to clean and bandage your wounds, holding ice against your face until you push their hands off, insisting on doing it yourself. They stand, then, and look meaningfully at Mapi, before they walk into the kitchen, mumbling about getting you water.

Mapi moves to sit next to you, and you're startled when she looks up at you with tears in her eyes.

"I'm so sorry, pequeña. I shouldn't have yelled. Seeing you like that scared me, and I freaked out. I didn't mean to be so harsh, really."

"It's okay," you say halfheartedly.

"No it's not. I'd like to hear what happened though." Mapi says, shaking her head. Ingrid and Alexia wander back in, handing you a glass of water, and sitting down on the couch.

You look between them, realizing that if there were any 3 people who you'd trust, it's them. You tell them the whole story, starting months ago when the teasing began, up until today. Mapi and Alexia look prepared to track the kids down and harm them, while Ingrid looks torn between murder, and giving you a hug. She looks like she's decided on a hug when Mapi beats her too it, pulling you into her arms fiercely. The guilt on her face is evident, and even though you want to stay mad, you can't. So, you hug her back, and she sighs with relief. When she pulls back, you meet Alexia's eyes and shudder at how upset she looks.

"Why didn't you tell us this was happening? We could have stopped it." She says through her teeth. You can tell, though, that her anger is directed at the other kids, and not you.

"It wasn't a big deal, I could ignore it."

"It doesn't matter, y/n, you shouldn't have to handle it. You're never going back there again, we'll find someone else to tutor you." Alexia declares, and Mapi and Ingrid nod their agreement. You weren't going to argue with them. With that settled, Ingrid and Mapi take you back home, after you thank Alexia for her help. They send you right to bed, arguing that you need rest to recover well, and you roll your eyes, but listen. You've just settled in bed when there is a knock on the door.

"Come in?"

Mapi's head peeks through the door, smirking at you, and holding two bowls of ice cream.

"Don't tell Ingrid, it's not a cheat day," she says and you grin. She settles on the other side of your bed, handing you the bowl, and you guys eat in a content silence. Not 5 minutes later, there's another knock on the door, and you and Mapi hide your bowls under your blanket.

"Yes?"

Ingrid opens the door, eyes on the 2 bowls of ice cream in her hands. "Don't tell Mapi, there was only enough left for 2..." she fades off, looking up to see Mapi reclined on your bed, staring at her with her jaw dropped open. You laugh, throwing back your blanket, exposing the first bowls of ice cream. Ingrid and Mapi both start to scold the other, but realize neither of them have a leg to stand on. Instead, Ingrid climbs onto the bed on your other side, handing you the second bowl of ice cream, which you accept happily.

Ingrid mentions something about the training schedule, then, and what time you all need to be up the next morning, and you sit forward, dropping your spoon into your bowl with a clatter. You look horrified.

"What is it?" Ingrid asks, somewhat panicked at the expression on your face.

"I have to go to practice tomorrow. Everyone is going to see my face and freak out. If you two were bad, imagine everyone else's reaction," you groan, already hearing the different lectures you were going to hear.

Ingrid and Mapi chuckle at your panic.

"Remember the last time you got into a fight? And you went to practice with that black eye? Practice was delayed 20 minutes so everyone could yell at you, and Pina got a picture of your face printed on t-shirts." Mapi remembers gleefully.

You glare at her, a look she returns.

"Maybe we can get it on the back of our jersey this time," Ingrid suggest, fighting a smile.

You roll your eyes, going back to your ice cream, dreading the next day, but also not. Having people care about you, worry for you, was a good feeling. Overwhelming, yes, but overall, a good feeling.

-----

lowkey hate the ending of this but im tired and i couldn't think of how else to end it

#woso #woso imagine #woso x reader #barcelona femeni x reader #barca femeni

[bell4donn4]

Getaway truck | a western road trip with Luke Castellan

Tags: established relationship,Luke and reader are basically the mom and dad of chb, reader’s godly parent is not specified.

Author’s note: tbh I’ve been lowkey obsessed w western Americana and road trips. I wanted this to be longer but whatever

The humid wind coming from the rolled down window gently messed up your hair.

You sat quietly on the passenger seat of the washed out green truck you and Luke rented. It must have been a Ford 1967, or some other kind of vintage model.

You couldn’t tell, and honestly, you didn’t bother to anyways, too busy looking out of the window admiring the desertic surroundings; sipping on your coca-cola.

<<you smudged your lipstick>> he glanced at you, taking his eyes off the road to send you a lopsided smile. One of his big and rough hands rested on your bare thigh, exposed by your jeans shorts.

It was mid summer, almost autumn time, yet the western country side never failed to drain you out with its scorching weather.

<<did I?>> you pulled down the visor, inspecting yourself in the small mirror; but you could tell he was right by the red stain on the metal can.

<<oh yeah, I did>>

Luke laughed lowly while he took a turn to the left, hand strong and firm on the steering wheel. You admired him in silence, a sort of pride filling your ego as you looked at your boyfriend.

That day, he wore a white linen shirt, which he (purposely) left unbuttoned on the chest, making his Hermes dog-tag visible. A pair of sunglass used to sit in the bridge of his nose, but were now long forgotten on the dashboard. It felt weird to see him without the bright orange shirt.

This little getaway from camp was going more than lovely. Finally free from all the responsibilities you both had to take on. You couldn’t even imagine how the camp must have looked like in that moment, with both of the two head counsolers gone.

<<do you think they set the cabins on fire?>>

<<for how long have we been away?>> Luke said

<< half a day?>> you nodded

<<yeah then, the woods are probably already burning as well. Along with the cabins and all>>

he hummed in approval at his own answer, earning a giggle from you.

He caressed your thigh with his thumb.

<<im joking, I’m sure the kids will be alright>>

<<you sound like an old dad>>

He shrugged his shoulders, grinning; but just as it started, the conversation slowly died down.

In the background of your comfortable silence, a low melody coming from the radio filled your ear.

With Luke, you didn’t need to talk. No many words need to be spoken with a man like him. You have been together enough to understand each other in silence. Plus— that should’ve been a sort of vacation from the chaos of camp.

So you preferred not to add anything else, simply allowing the worries to occupy the back of your mind.

You turned the music up as Molly Parton started playing.

You enjoyed the song, humming along the robotic notes coming from the radio.

Fortunately, by the time you arrived at your destination— a lake far far away from the one you had to see everyday— the worries were all gone. Replaced by that fuzzy feeling that only being with Luke could give you.

#luke castellan #pjo series #percy jackson #luke castellan smut #pjo x reader #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan pjo #luke castellan x you #charlie bushnell #charlie bushnell x reader #pjo smau #pjo show #pjo smut #pjo boys #pjo cast #pjo disney+ #pjo tv show #pjo #percy jackson x reader #percy jackson smut #charlie bushnell x you #luke castellan fluff #road trip

[koenigami]

tags : fem!reader, fluff, drunk!wrio, alcohol and intoxication, established relationship

Like the seasons, like the clouds in the sky, everything changes. Especially people. Which is the reason why even over the course of a steadfast and earnest relationship, you will always get to know something new about your partner. Their opinions on certain matters, their preferences in music, fashion or even taste of water.

What you have learned merely two hours ago is that your tea fanatic lover, WRIOTHESLEY - your big, strong, hunk who won't bow down to anyone - is a lightweight when it comes to alcoholic beverage.

It had started off as a casual evening stroll along the streets of Fontaine, including window shopping and easy-going conversations as you caught up on each other's day. That was until you passed the newly opened pub which you remember Clorinde briefly mentioning to you a few days ago. It was not overly big, yet the atmosphere that lingered inside was sweet and homely. Wooden tables and chairs with cushioned seats, large windows letting the sunset flood the pub's interior in an orange hue, shelves with all different kinds of alcoholic drinks spread over the entirety of the wall behind the counter.

The service was impeccable, food was delicious, and their drinks very refreshing. Wriothesley must have thought so too, because it did not take long until his cheeks were coloured in a light rosy shade.

- Sitting with him in a far corner of the room, you notice how his pupils are blown wide, and his tongue is loose as he keeps on rambling about matters that he surely won't even remember tomorrow. "You know what?" the strong alcoholic smell wafts through your nose as he throws an arm around your shoulder, pulling you closer. As if wanting to avoid any prying ears, he leans in and whispers into your ear. "It seems that I may need to share a secret of mine with you."

"Oh, really now?" you raise your eyebrows and offer him a lopsided smile, sounding anything but thrilled about the upcoming revelation. "I'm all ears."

Wriothesley briefly pulls back, scanning his surroundings just to make sure that there is really no one trying to be noisy about your current conversation. He nods and leans back in, deep blue eyes staring right into yours with a seriousness that would normally worry you if it weren't for his intoxicated state. "I love you."

His words nearly drown in the loud music and singing of other not any less intoxicated guests. But you still catch them. You always would. Because his lips always move the same as they form around those words. Because his eyes always look the same when he utters them. Because your heart always starts beating the same erratic beat.

"I love you. I love you. I love you-" he stops his mantra, taking a deep breath in a dramatic manner before resuming and making you both chuckle. With every sentence, his face inches closer to yours. "I love you, I love you, I love you, I love-"

You press a forefinger against his lips, silencing him and stopping his attempted kiss. The wet lips beneath your skin form into a little pout as he waits for your next move in anticipation. "Didn't you know that words lose their meaning if you repeat them too often?" your question was meant to be lighthearted. Teasing. But at the way he straightens and leans back into his chair, you realise that despite his tipsiness he still manages to seriously ponder over your words.

"There is no meaning behind my words." he scoffs and downs the remains of his drink. You feel your heart plunge a little before it rockets back up like a rollercoaster when he suddenly turns your way and grabs your cheeks in one hand. His warm breath fans over your puckered lips, and you are once again met with that same soft gaze of his that could make you melt right then and there.

"At least not any deeper meaning. They're simple facts." he leans in and this time you don't prevent him from kissing you. You taste the whiskey on his lips and sigh when his tongue briefly traces your lower lip. "Facts that will never change, my love."

#wriothesley #wriothesley genshin impact #genshin impact wriothesley #genshin wriothesley #wriothesley drabble #wriothesley fluff #wriothesley x you #wriothesley x reader #wriothesley genshin

[popponn]

a bit of red. [childe x reader]

summary: your nose was bleeding. all while Tartaglia never once looked away.

notes: childe is a feral battle maniac but has traits of a genuinely good husband material. the mix is a funny fatui guy. those are the only thoughts that exist as i write this down. warnings: light blood and injuries, sfw, blood licking, reader and childe’s relationship is best described as "complicated frenemies with something going on", reader’s gender unspecified.

“Oh, they got your face, huh?” Tartaglia asked, cheerful in a very wrong manner as he put a hand on your shoulder.

Without sparing him a glance, you could already feel the taunting smile in his tone. You gave him a muffled grunt as a reply, your hand still busy rubbing your bleeding nose as you glared at your own feet. You really should have paid more attention to that one guy with big wood.

Also, why didn't Traveler tell you she also asked for the Eleventh Harbinger's help for today? You really weren’t in the mood to spend alone time with him for—

“—are you listening?”

A hand grabbed your chin—rough and quick, yet not harsh enough to hurt you—pulling your head to turn to your side where Tartaglia had already stared at you with an unamused frown plastered on his face. You knew, logically, you should have slapped his hand away and gotten ready for combat—you have enough brain to remember that Tartaglia is a seasoned fighter and a shady person meshed into one no matter how friendly he acts towards you. Yet, at the same time, you found yourself blanking out the moment you met his eyes.

“Really, don't you at least know that you shouldn't rub your nose when it's bleeding? That's common sense, you know,” Tartaglia said to you. It felt like he was scolding you like a child.

You, whose head was still filled only with empty statics, could only reply to him with a dumbfounded blink. “Huh?”

Tartaglia raised an eyebrow, his face still wearing the uncharacteristically serious expression. “Come on—they didn’t hit your head that hard, did they? It was only a wood to your face, I had hit you with something harder than that.”

Which wasn't wrong. He pretty much already threw lightning bolts and hydro blades to your face numerous times during your regular scuffles with him.

“I…” you opened your mouth. You wanted to defend yourself, but you had to acknowledge the fact that what you did was indeed pretty dumb. “…I was not thinking.”

Hearing your response, Tartaglia looked at you exasperatedly. It should be insulting, considering it's Tartaglia—but seeing the obvious fondness in his face, you found yourself once again being unable to react much. Or perhaps, it was because of how you had come to notice that his hand had moved away from your chin, when he pressed his thumb lightly and softly against the skin above your lips, wiping off the blood that still trickled down from your nose with a lopsided smile befitting of his charming, youthful face. A few moments passed, and you continued to let him without any chirp of complaints.

Then, slowly, at some point, that smile shifted into a different one—wider, sharper—as his eyes darkened without moving away from your profile. “…well, the blood does suit you though.”

“Hu—?!”

Within a second, there was a mouth and a pair of lips on your face, right above your lips and below your nose, as you felt a hand forcefully drag you forward by your collars. It happened so quickly, sparing you not even a second to react as a tongue—Tartaglia’s—slithered out and licked a few droplets of blood off your face, smearing out some of them in the process. Your eyes were wide open as Tartaglia pushed his face against yours and dragged his lips down. Ending whatever the fuck he did with a light peck on your lips.

And when you finally find it in yourself to breathe and blink once again, Tartaglia’s face was already somewhere further away from yours. You still tried to process what just happened when you spotted the self-satisfied look he wore—not too full of his brand of odd brightness, all while the way he licked at his lips and wiped the leftover red away with his fingers told you enough. Faintly, you could still feel the heat of his hand from the tight grip he let remain on your clothes.

Tartaglia looked at the almost invisible red on his gloves for another moment. Silent with a look you were not quite ready to decipher just yet. Your whole body still stood stiff, frozen by something that was both surprising and pleasant that crawled through from the insides of your spine.

This was not the first time for the both of you to have your lips smashed against each other—but this would be the first time Tartaglia wore a look like that when doing so.

Good Archons.

“What the fuck, Childe.” You snarled at him, almost spitting in every syllable. You glared harshly at him, deciding to focus more on the stunt he just pulled instead of humoring the stupid thoughts your head was starting to come up with. You were not dealing with that when there were unconscious treasure hoarders laying around you in some foreign nation’s wilderness.

Tartaglia, hearing the way you angrily called him by his title, finally seemed to be back from whatever odd trance he just had. Within a blink, his expression switched into one that was far more innocent. A few creases away from confusion, but at least he still had enough decency to manage out a nervous laugh as he let go of your clothes. Still carrying his usual air of confidence, he rubbed the back of his head and offered you his usual smile—secretive and untelling no matter how sweet it looked.

“Wow—okay. I mean, sorry. I don’t know what suddenly got over me—ha ha ha!” Tartaglia apologized as if he was some adorable first date who got too much into the heat of the moment and kissed you. It would have been much cuter if he was not some rascal who just licked the blood on your face. As if it truly was something out of adolescent impulsiveness, Tartaglia took out a handkerchief and offered it to you. “Here, here—let me wipe that blood off you for a bit. Want me to press on your nose for you too? Oh, wait, do you need to sit—”

“That was disgusting. That's common sense,” you spat at him without making an attempt to stop him from dabbing his expensive silk handkerchief on your face, letting the young Harbinger step into your space once again.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I really am! I really wanted to help you—I didn't mean for it go to like that!” Tartaglia insisted nonchalantly, repeating his apology as he swiped the fabric across your nose and cheeks. “But, yeah.”

You glared harder at his sudden pause, “But, yeah—what?”

“It really looks good on you,” Tartaglia said, breathlessly and honestly, never once stopping from tending your face as if he was caressing you. A sincere smile—resembling a loving one yet not quite one—etched itself on his lips as a shadow of something flashed along with it. Once again, it nearly stunned you again.

If only it wasn’t about you having a nosebleed.

Trying your best to not take a sharp, angry deep breath, you decided to grit your teeth instead. There were certainly many different thoughts that heat up your whole head for many each their own reasons. However, first thing first—

“Okay, we are done!” Tartaglia loudly cheered as he pulled his hand away from you, taking a few steps back away whilst looking at you like some proud handiwork.

“Thanks,” you blandly said, before turning and walking away, “now, let's go. We still have a few more camps to do for Lumine.”

Following your steps easily, Tartaglia returned to his place beside you prior and nodded enthusiastically at the thought of more fight. “Right! Aah—hope the next one is—”

Coldly, you cut him off, still walking calmly beside him, “Tartaglia.”

“Hm? What?”

“For the next camp, go get injured or something.”

Tartaglia made an offended noise at your suggestion. “Hey, I said sorry already! No need to—”

“I will make sure to return the previous favor when you bleed,” you said, cutting him off again without a hint of joke in your tone. Your eyes stared straight at his startled ones.

Tartaglia held the look of rare surprise for another few seconds. He seemed to be truly caught off guard—but not for long, as with a barking laugh, he returned your words with a wide grin you had seen he wore numerous times in every battle the two of you shared. “Is that so?”

You silently cursed at Lumine once more for making you keep working together with him. Many times enough that you could reply unflinchingly. “Of course. So go ahead—do something funny.”

“Will bleeding from any place work? Is it only for one wound or is it for every wound I get?” he asked, interest displayed clearly in his tone. Of course, the battle maniac had started to treat this like some recreational excursion. “I’m quite sturdy, you know.”

You didn't even try to humor whatever he truly meant by those. As the next camp and chest came into view, you spared him a glance, eyeing him through your peripheral.

“I wonder,” you said. “Depends on my mood and how funny you were, maybe.”

“Oh, really,” Tartaglia mocked out a swoon, readying his blades as they formed in his hands. “You truly are the best sometimes.”

#genshin impact x reader #genshin imagines #genshin x reader #genshin impact #genshin scenarios #childe #tartaglia #genshin ajax #childe x reader #tartaglia x reader #ajax x reader #genshin childe #i love you since 1.1 and i still wonder why is your name so many #this wasn't how i plan to debut a genshin man but here we are. this is a warm up piece that got a bit out of hand #anyway i miss him so much already ue ue ue

[urhoneycombwitch]

you oughta know: part I

Spring Break

series masterlist

foreword: since Eddie Munson is our collective Ken doll to dress up as we please I present to you my new and improved: dirtbag!college!Eddie. now with 50% more tattoos and a splash of 90s grunge college academia aesthetic.

cw: drinking, intoxication, R has breasts, R and Eddie are slut4slut in this

___

The bass on this houseparty’s stereo pumps through the floorboards, rattling every wall of the building. Hiding out in the less-stimulating kitchen seems like a good option for tonight.

Apparently, this other guy thinks so, too, ‘cuz soon it’s just you and him across the counter from another. He’s handsome, actually. Moonlight from a window above the sink highlights strong cheekbones and a sharp cupid’s bow as he helps himself to a glass from the cupboard.

Slinking out from elbow-rolled shirtsleeves are thick, dark vine tattoos; they wind around his forearms, smattered with hair and freckles, the ink trailing to end at his wrists.

You lean forward onto the counter separating you two (well aware that you’re spilling out of your top), then tip the neck of your beer bottle at him- “Eddie?”

He spins to face you, raises a pretty brow, long lashes sweeping over auburn eyes- “Uh- maybe? Who wants to know, dollface.”

A scrunch of distaste with your nose at the nickname, you barrel through the discomfort- “Oh, I thought it might be you. I’m Robin’s roommate. She said her weed guy had cool tattoos.”

The guy’s face lights up with a lopsided smile, dimples peeking out as he preens, “So you think they’re cool?”

You roll your eyes, take an unamused sip of beer, press a bit further into your hands on the counter. A little thrill at your small victory- his eyes flicking down once, twice, to your cleavage- you ride the alcohol-gifted looseness and adrenaline. “Psst. Hey. My eyes are up here, perv.”

It’s a tease. A goad masked as chiding. Eddie sets his glass of water down, doe eyes fixed on yours, not falling for the trap of your quick inhale- “You seriously sayin’ that to me, when you’re the one with your tits out?”

He tsks, walks those big boots over, leanin’ in to your counter space, close enough to smell the spice of his cologne- “Would almost think you like the attention.”

You swallow hard. Hold your ground, looking up at him through your lashes, bust still on display- “Yeah, and you’d probably like to be the one to give it to me. In your dreams, pal.”

It’s getting harder to play hard-to-get as Eddie bumps his hip against yours. The whites of his eyes are slightly bloodshot (you can smell the heady undercurrent of weed wafting from his clothes), while the black of his pupils are already blown out with feverish lust. “C’mon, have a heart, angel. Can’t fault a boy for dreamin’.”

And goddammit if you don’t melt for that line. (He really is a rather great lyricist, as you’ll come to find out this upcoming semester.)

In retrospect, you’ll never admit it, but you did make the first move- pressed him right up against Linda Satler’s kitchen counter and kissed him, with tongue. Robin walked in on the two of you and got in a full shriek before either of you realized someone else had come in, jumping apart like two children caught arms-deep in a cookie jar.

“God, gross,” she gags, louder than the wave of sound flooding in from the open door. She crosses the room in a few swift strides and plucks at your elbow, a reproachful whisper- “I sent you to get weed, not to make out with the dealer!”

“I am getting weed, Robin,” you insist, patient but firm, pulling from her grasp to turn back to Eddie, teeth worrying at your bottom lip that shimmers with mixed saliva as you ask, sweet and simply- “Can I please have some weed?”

It wasn’t actually your plan to butter Eddie up for a better price (another fact you’d remain stoically opposed to, later), but he gave it to you, all the same- a laughably low amount for a bundle of pre-rolls.

Robin’s eyes bug out at the amount he hands it over- then she smoothly pockets the goods and pats you on the shoulder. “Okay. My mistake. I actually love that you’re both getting acquainted in this manner. You have my blessing to do it a bunch more, just- not when I’m in the room. M’kay?”

She grins cheekily at Eddie before looping her arm in yours, pulling you with her towards the door- you call out before it closes behind you both, “Robin’s number is our landline! You can call me there, if you want!”

Eddie stands still for a few moments after you’re swallowed up by the noise of the party, palm flat to the twinge in his chest. Cupid’s arrow, he can feel it sinking in.

He’s an RA, this semester. Really can’t afford to be seeing cute girls and selling them weed- at least, not at the same time. Gotta straighten up a bit over Spring Break, he thinks.

Then he cracks the window open. Lights up a joint. Smokes out into the fresh night air and tries really hard to think of anything other than your tits. (A game of mostly losses.)

#upcoming fic #dirtbag!Eddie #college au #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson smut

[the-kr8tor]

The one with the baby

Pairing: Hobie Brown x Fem! Reader/ Spider-Punk x Fem! Reader

Word count: 2.1k

Synopsis: You meet Mayday for the first time.

Tags: No use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader, talks of having children, cw food mention, established relationship, Domestic Hobie, FLUFF.

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*I don't consent to having my work translated/published on other platforms*

Toeing off your sneakers you hear an unmistakable babble of a baby. You perk up at the unexpected sound, carefully treading inside your shared flat, bag still slinged over your shoulder, carabiner of keys clinking in your hand.

The sight in front of you has you in a mixture of emotions, surprised at the red headed baby in your boyfriend's arms, curious at where he got the said baby, and anxious at the sudden responsibility of the prospect of Hobie adopting a child.

Big blue eyes meet yours, her attention caught by the sound of your keys. She claps her tiny hands at the sight of a new friend. Hobie follows her line of sight, a smile spreading across his face when he sees your dumbfounded face.

"Hi love, look who I got!" Hobie lifts up the baby by her armpits, she laughs cutely in his grasp.

"Hobie, when I said I have baby fever because of my cousin's newborn, I didn't mean for you to actually get a baby" you stand behind the couch, Hobie stands up from the cushion, carrying the unknown baby in his arms. Your stomach somersaults at the sight of Hobie with a baby.

You're immediately going over the back of the sofa to coo at them, legs jumping over the soft plush of the settee, bag slipping off your shoulder, falling on the carpeted floors. Foot caught in between the cushions, you almost fall flat on your face. Hobie, ever the hero, catches you before you fall, his free hand protectively holding your arm. The girl nestled in his arm tilts her head at you.

Hobie chuckles, "I would've asked you first before adopting a kid"

You straighten up, grinning at them. "What's her name?" cooing at the blushy baby, you lift your keys in front of her, rattling it, she makes grabby hands towards it.

"Her name's Mayday, Peter B's kid. You remember him, right?" Hobie adjusts his hold on Mayday so he could clasp his hand over your waist, bringing you closer. You're hip to hip with Hobie, moving away the keys in your hand, when Mayday gets a little too close at its jagged edges.

"Hi Mayday! You're a cutie aren't you?" You softly say. Hobie watches the interaction with a fond smile. "I remember Peter, he actually got you to babysit?" asking rhetorically. You look at Hobie with stars in your eyes, he can't help but kiss the corner of your smiling eye. You giggle at the kiss.

Mayday copies your giggling, clutching your shirt in her chubby hands, she looks up at you, babbling away.

"Hmm? Do you want me to carry you, baby?" You toss the keys away from Mayday, it lands on the soft settee. Clapping your hands signaling for Mayday that it's okay for her to reach towards you. "Is it okay for me to carry her, Hobie?" You stop mid clap, forgetting to ask for permission, careful not to overstep.

"It's more than alright, Peter asked for you too, y'know. He said something along the lines of 'good for practice'" he smirks at the last bit. You smile bashfully at the thought.

Mayday, scrunches her nose, annoyed that you're making her wait. "Aww, what's with that face? So impatient, baby Mayday" your hands loop around her small body, back cradling carefully at her back, you bring her to your chest, adjusting the weight. "There you go, hi" you giggle, ducking your head to meet her.

She gives you the famous Parker smile, lopsided and showing her baby teeth. Your heart clenches at the sight, making you cuddle her more.

Hobie chuckles at the scene, eyes sparkling at how gentle you are with Mayday. Unlocking something in him that he can't quite pinpoint.

Hobie crouches to talk to the toddler "You thirsty Mayday?" She nods, big eyes staring at Hobie. "Orange juice?" She nods vigorously, her curls bouncing while she moves. You move your hand over to her forehead so she doesn't get motion sick with her nodding.

You and Hobie laugh at her reaction, "I think she wants juice, orange preferably" you nod at her "yeah? Orange juice for the sweetheart?"

Mayday blows raspberries, "I'll go get it, sit down, lovey" Hobie brings his arm back from your waist, you already miss his embrace.

"Okay, me and Mayday are gonna have a chat, won't we, baby?" Hobie almost answers for Mayday, used to you calling him that.

You sit down while Hobie prepares the juice from the kitchen, grabbing some cookies for Mayday (and you) a few minutes later, he hears you screech, standing up right on the couch, arms reaching towards the ceiling.

"Hobie! Help!"

Hobie runs the small distance, eyes trained up to look at where you're trying to reach out. Mayday crawls on the ceiling, wobbling from time to time, you follow her movements angling to catch her in case she falls, while Hobie effortlessly jumps to follow Mayday on the ceiling.

"Why does she even have her own web shooters!?" You're panicking, moving to catch her from below.

Hobie catches up to the toddler, wrapping her in his arms. "Got you, you little anarchist" Mayday laughs loudly.

You breathe out a sigh of relief, "be careful going down, please" arms still stretched out towards them.

Hobie drops down from the ceiling gracefully. "She's alright" Mayday crawls over Hobie's shoulder, catching her in his hands before she topples over. "You on the other hand don't look too great"

You look terrified, gnashing and gritting your teeth together, clutching your chest, heaving loudly. "I'm fine" you say, completely lying.

"Hold the magic baby, might make you feel better" Hobie holds Mayday towards you, she mumbles for you, smiling widely.

"Magic baby?" You gather her in your arms, happy that she's safely back on the ground with you. She grabs the hem of your shirt as Mayday snuggles you, relaxing your tensed muscles. Now you know exactly what 'magic baby' meant, "ah, magic baby" you sigh, rubbing your cheek against her rosy tinted ones. Mayday savors the affection, smiling into your touch.

"Better?" Hobie places his warm hand over the back of your neck, you lean towards his touch as he guides you back to sit on the couch.

"Mm-hmm, better" sitting down, you move a stray curl away from Mayday's face. You gasp at a brilliant idea. While Hobie goes back to the kitchen to get Mayday's snacks.

Hobie hands Mayday her sippy cup full of juice, she grasps the handles with her tiny hands before she happily sips her drink, feet swaying as she sits on your lap. Your arm securing her in place, just in case she decides to swing away again.

"Baby, can you grab the hair ties from my bag?"

"You talkin' to me? Thought you forgot about me" Hobie teases, hands on his hips, feigning annoyance.

"Are you jealous of Mayday? You're still my baby y'know" you pat his leg with your foot. He grabs it, fingers threatening to tickle the underside of your foot, making you squeal. "Hobie, don't! I might drop her"

Hobie drops your leg unceremoniously, he smirks at your playful scowl. He rummages through your bag for the hair ties, handing the elastics to you.

"Thank you, kiss?" You raise your head to pout your lips towards Hobie, he rolls his eyes before he leans down to press a quick kiss. He leans away for a bit before he pecks your nose. You wiggle your nose at him as a thank you.

Mayday bonks Hobie's hand with the packet of cookies, asking him to open it for her.

"What am I a butler? You girls are spoiled" he rips the packaging open, handing it to Mayday, she makes a baby noise akin to a happy squeal.

You hug Mayday, batting your lashes towards Hobie. "It's because you spoil us, right Mayday?" The toddler's too busy munching on a butter cookie to take notice of your banter.

"She's too busy gorging herself, definitely Peter's kid" Hobie plops down next to you, placing his head on your shoulder, chin poking you slightly. His arm slides on top of the sofa, long enough to reach over Mayday, he takes a cookie from the box, feeding it to you.

You bite at the biscuit while you tie Mayday's hair into pigtails, careful not to tug too harshly. Hobie brings the remaining half of the cookie to his mouth, crumbs falling on your shirt. He promptly wipes the crumbs off before you notice.

"And…done!" You finish tying the last pigtail, her soft curls bouncing as she looks up at you, a cookie on her mouth, crumbs all over her chubby cheeks, her blue eyes twinkling in the light. "Oh look at you! So adorable!"

You coo at her while she continues eating. Hobie watches as you wipe the crumbs off her cheeks gently with your thumb, giving her a little kiss on top of her head. His heart blossomed at the sight. A switch flips inside his head, an important question swirls in his mind. Now he's the one with baby fever.

Hobie plants a kiss behind your ear to get your attention.

"Yeah, baby?" Voice full of adoration. You crane your neck, leaning against his chest, his jumper warm against your cheek, you look at him through your lashes.

"What do you think? 'bout kids?" He asks softly.

"Having one or just in general?"

"The former" he mutters out, arm sliding away from the back of the sofa towards your torso, hugging you tightly.

"Not now, but someday" you grin at the possibility of having a little version of Hobie running around, oh the chaos that would ensue. "One day, definitely. You?" Asking tentatively.

"Yeah, with you, yeah" He mirrors your smile, already thinking of a little you following him around. You tuck your face on the crook of his neck, cuddling into him. "Wait, a baby with me, right?" He jokes but you take it seriously.

You knit your eyebrows together, "of course, what the fuck" you whisper out the last word so that Mayday couldn't hear you. "Who else? You dork"

"One day, huh" Hobie whispers against your temple, before he leaves a warm kiss over it. You close your eyes, smiling softly at the affection.

"Yeah, one day" Your heart flutters, excited for what the future holds.

Mayday finishes her snacks, she stretches her legs, yawning as she climbs further into your arms. You notice her sleepiness, "come on sleepyhead" placing her on your chest, hand protectively over her small form. She happily closes her eyes, laying on top of you, looking at the bundle of cuteness through exhausted eyes.

Hobie reads your tired expressions, he moves you down to his lap so that you're fully laying down, he rests his hand on top of Mayday, palm over your hand that's also cradling the toddler.

Mayday falls asleep almost immediately, you look up to see Hobie staring fondly at you two.

"I Love you" you whisper.

"Love you too, sleep, Peter will pick her up in a few hours" He wipes a stray crumb he missed on your shoulder.

"Aww, miss her already" you fight a yawn.

"I'll ask Peter if she can visit us next time, yeah? Sounds good?"

"Yeah, I really love you, y'know" you say softly, reaching up to caress his cheek. He holds your hand, leaning his cheek against your warmth.

"I know" Hobie pecks your knuckles. He holds your hand, while his other hand stays over to yours and Mayday's sleeping form.

He watches you close your eyes, a ghost of a smile over your lips.

—

Peter opens the portal on your rooftop. After he was chastised by Hobie for opening a portal right in your shared living room, your knick knacks flying around the modest space, breaking some of it. Hobie will never babysit Mayday ever again if he does the same thing again.

So he creeps to the side of the building, crawling towards the familiar window. He peeks through the glass, looking for his daughter's unmistakable red hair.

He coos loudly as he sees the trio asleep on the settee, Peter opens the window slowly and quietly. Landing softly inside, he takes the opportunity to take his phone out of his pocket, taking countless pictures of you three asleep on the sofa.

Peter can't wait to send the pictures to the group chat, Hobie might decline his next babysitting favour but judging from how you're embracing Mayday as if she's your own, that wouldn't be much of a problem from now on.

A/N: Thank you for reading! Likes and reblogs are always appreciated ❤️

Requests are open for my 500 celebration 🎉 (Fluffy Fridays)

#hobie brown x reader #spider punk x reader #the kr8tor's creations #hobie brown #spider man across the spider verse #x reader #atsv fanfiction #atsv fluff #atsv fanfic #atsv hobie #atsv x reader #hobie fluff #hobie brown x fem!reader #hobie brown x you #spider punk x fem!reader #spider punk #spider punk x you #cw food mention #fanfic

[lovebugism]

"s'mores are perfect when the marshmallows are burnt" "you jsut can't cook" + eddie munson for blurbcember ❄️

ty for requesting! :D — you freeze your ass off to spend some time alone with eddie; he learns you love him more than s'mores (established relationships, fluff, 1.6k)

blurbcember ˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

You and Eddie sit stranded in Steve’s backyard, the only ones brave enough to weather the late-night cold. 

The bursting bonfire died down to a couple of sparkling orange embers, and the party followed accordingly. While your friends sought shelter in the warm living room, unfreezing their fingers around cups of hot cocoa, you and Eddie remained outside in the navy blue winter — too stubborn to tread behind them.

“But wait— we haven’t made s’mores yet!” you’d whined. The shivering bodies of your friends rushed by you and into the heated house, anyway. Eddie was the only one to stay with you after the fact. ‘Cause his girl was gonna get her s’mores even if it was the last thing he ever did.

He makes the first one perfectly. Mostly because that one was for you.

You sit patiently in the slanted wooden chair, knees up to your chest, drowning in the thick leather jacket Eddie gave you for warmth. It smells just like him — like pine and childhood. It keeps you as warm as the smoky marshmallow on your tongue. 

The melted sugar gets caught in your teeth, along with the chewed-up graham cracker and gooey milk chocolate. You smile with it all anyway when Eddie’s second batch doesn’t turn out nearly as good as his first. 

“Eds, that’s burnt!” you laugh with your mouth still full as he smacks a blackened marshmallow between two square cookies.

In several layers of dark flannel, the boy shrugs lazily. He plops onto the adirondack beside yours and shoots you a lopsided smile, tinted pink and softly chapped. His skin, made more pale by the dark and wintery night, rivals that of the shining full moon. It makes his flushed cheeks that much more rosy.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about— s’mores are perfect when the marshmallows are burnt.”

He takes a too big bite to make a point. You grimace at the crunch of the over-cooked confection, then smile when the melted sugar sticks to Eddie’s chin. “No, you just can’t cook,” you retort with a lovesick grin.

“But I’m right!” he insists, black crumbs sticking to the corners of his mouth.

He’s too hardheaded, and you’re too in love with him to argue about it any further. You just smile and shake your head, so full of adoration you’re sparkling with it. “You’re so cute,” you murmur, features warm and visibly fond.

He grins wide, never minding the food caught in his teeth. “I know.”

“Should we make everyone else one?” you wonder, nose scrunched as you spare a look over your shoulder. 

Through the sliding glass door, you can see into the golden-lit living room. Everyone’s lazing under blankets, crammed onto couches or lounging on the floor. You can’t tell if they’re sleeping or not. You feel the need to take care of them anyway.

Eddie scoffs with his mouth still full. “Hell no! Those cowards chickened out on us,” he answers bitterly, then in a deeper and posher accent, continues. “Only the bravest of warriors can be rewarded with such fine delicacies.”

“Getting hypothermia makes us ‘the bravest of warriors’?”

“You’re the one who wanted to stay out here!”

“I did,” you argue with a laugh. “But not for the stupid s’mores.”

He gets cartoonishly confused. His bushy brows furrow and his winter-kissed features swirl together. If you weren’t weathering the winter for his obviously unmatched cheffing skills, then what exactly were you out here for?

“Then… for what?” he wonders slowly and with his dark eyes squinted.

You roll your eyes at your oblivious boy. A smile hints at the corners of your mouth. “Eddie…” you murmur, hoping your sudden sheepishness might give him some sort of hint. Telling him, ‘I’m out here in the freezing cold because being next to you makes me feel warm’ is far too sweet and not at all on brand for either of you.

“What?” he says with a faint laugh, still visibly clueless.

“I stayed out here because of you, you idiot,” you confess, giggling softly when it makes his doe eyes get all squishy around the edges.

“Oh,” he hums, then grins all wide and giddy. “Sweet.”

It’s too easy to forget how much you like him sometimes. Mostly because he doesn’t feel very deserving of you at all. He just takes all the sweet moments alone with you that he can get, then tries not to explode every time you remind him that you love him back.

“I am starting to get cold, though,” you murmur, jaw tense to keep your teeth from chattering. 

A crisp breeze rolls by and shoves its teeth into every inch of exposed skin it can bite. Your cheeks and lips have long gone numb with it. You can only wrap Eddie’s jacket around you so much before it stops helping.

“Well, I know something that’ll warm us up…” the boy beside you croons with an audible smirk.

Your face scrunches at the implication. “Eddie…” you grouse.

“Get your head out of the gutter— I’m talking about booze.”

You squint at him. He reaches between his many layers and pulls out something from the inner pocket. It glimmers beneath the moonlight for a moment until you realize what it is — a glass, small and polygonal, half-filled with amber liquid.

“I picked the lock to Steve’s dad’s liquor cabinet,” he confesses, twinkling with boyish excitement. “This looked the fanciest, so…”

At a loss for words, you shake your head. “You’re insane,” you tell him, even though your smile says that you’re in love with him and all his crazy.

“I’m surprised it took you this long to figure that out,” he quips and unscrews the glass cap. He sniffs the liquid inside, then takes a sip without fear. He winces at the taste.

“Is it good?” you ask, hiding your laugh behind your palm.

“It’s great—” His answer comes wedged between coughs.

When he passes the small glass off to you, you take your own baby sip of the alcohol, with much more hesitation than the boy beside you. The bitter taste coats your tongue and stings going down. The burn makes you cough. Your chest blooms with warmth.

Eddie’s brows raise expectantly. His lip quirks at the edges. “Good?”

“It tastes like rubbing alcohol,” you grimace and hand the thing back to him.

“That’s how you know it’s good!” he insists. He takes another sip and doesn’t flinch this time around. “Like— this is the shit rich people spend hundreds of dollars on just to pretend it tastes good.”

“Being rich must suck,” you observe with your face screwed up.

“Oh, totally,” the boy scoffs. He goes to take a swig, then sends you a worried glance with the glass up to his lips. “Are you warm yet, at least?”

“Not really… My throat just kinda burns.”

“C’mere. Before you end up like that psycho from The Shining.” 

Eddie slouches softly in his seat and holds his arms out beside him. The invitation is a hard one to turn down. Hair wild, cheeks rosy, and dressed all snug — he looks so visibly warm. You want to curl into his chest like a cat and stay there forever.

“You want me to sit in your lap?” you wonder with your brows pinched.

He nods.

“Eddie. I’ll crush you.”

His features swirl with hurt. “I’m offended that you’re doubting my strength right now, sweetheart.”

“Shut up.”

“Get over here before I cause a scene.”

There’s not much of a scene to cause. Both of you know this. You rise on rigid, frozen limbs anyway and walk the short distance to him. 

His palms are oddly warm as they curl around your hips. You sit hesitantly on his lap at first, as tense as a rock, until he pulls you down completely. His arms settle around your waist like they were always meant to be there, hands fitting with you like a puzzle piece. It doesn’t take long for you to melt against him.

Eddie grins at the comforting weight of you. “See? This isn’t so bad, right?”

You try to bite back the beam tugging at your lips. This kind of love makes you feel like a teenager again — heart singing like it’s never been stung before. 

“I mean, yeah, but Steve and Robin are watching us through the blinds,” you tell him as a laugh sputters from your lips. 

You can tell they’re trying to be discreet, but their eyes showing through the slats — at two varying heights — are a dead giveaway. It took the two of them ages to get you and Eddie together, so you’re not entirely surprised by their snooping. They’re nothing if not your biggest cheerleaders. Even if it does make them a couple of creeps sometimes.

Eddie doesn’t bother to look over his shoulder at them. He just tilts his chin up at you and smiles with all his teeth. “Wanna give ‘em a show?”

You smile. Then press your tingling lips to the cold skin of his rosy cheek. 

You know that isn’t exactly what he was asking for, so his plea for another doesn’t surprise you.

“One more?” he wonders quietly, chocolate eyes glimmering with boyish hope.

Happily, you lean in for another peck to his cheek. He turns his head at the very last second and smacks a proper kiss to your mouth.

You pull back, face agape with shock, like he’s never kissed you before. “Eddie!” you gasp.

His doe eyes sparkle with feigned innocence. “What?”

“You’re incorrigible,” you insist and settle further into him.

His contented sigh brushes your temple when you rest your head against him. His ringed fingers give your sides a squeeze. “That’s a real big word, sweetheart. Means you like me, right?”

You let yourself smile wide. He can’t see how lovesick you are from this angle, or else he’d know that you do a whole lot more than just like him. “Yeah, Eds. That’s exactly what it means.”

#published by bug #eddie munson x reader #stranger things x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson #stranger things #stranger things imagine #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fic #st drabbles #eddie spaghetti drabble #event: blurbcember

[withahappyrefrain]

did we ever get a follow up on that night with bob? the 7th date one where he ate us out twice? pls my brain is short circuiting i need to know if we get to fuck him💔

Not only did we fuck him, we also learned another surprising thing about Bob: he has a raging size kink. Aka Full of Surprises Part 2: Electric Bugaloo

Warning: fem reader,  language, unprotected sex, Bob has a huge dick, Bob is also a sweet precious bean, size kink, fingering, multiple orgasms, squirting, overstimulation, creampie, slight dacryphilia (depends on how you look at it) just wrote 3.8K of porn, don't look at me

Being with Bob Floyd was the closest thing to euphoria.

When you were with him, you felt at ease and as light as a feather.

All he had to do was look at you with that sweet lopsided grin and joy would pulse through your veins.

It was why you didn’t mind pausing as you two both recovered from your previous activities and just laid in bed, kissing one another before continuing. 

“I love kissing you,” Bob whispered before pressing another kiss to your cheek, then the tip of your nose before moving down to your lips. 

A giggle escaped as you weaved your hands into his hair, fingers gently grasping at the now soft, ungelled curls, “Could have been doing it a lot sooner." 

"I know," Bob groaned, shaking his head, "I wanted to, like really bad. But I didn't want to make you uncomfortable." 

Of course he didn’t. Even after making you fall apart on his mouth twice, make sure you were at ease was still at the forefront of Bob’s mind. 

"Well," your fingers traced the soft skin of his broad shoulders, "I think it's safe to say we are now very comfortable with each other." 

He grabbed your hand, bringing it up to his lips. How was this man real? More importantly, how was he in your bed? 

That was something to figure out later. Right now, you were too busy soaking in the sensation of his body on top of yours, lips attached to your neck, and what just brushed against your thigh? 

Your hunch was confirmed when he rolled his hips against yours again. 

It shouldn't have been a surprise. Out of all the things you learned tonight about Bob, this one shouldn't have come as a shock.

He wasn't short, far from it. You barely came up to his chin. When he cupped your face, his thumbs would rest comfortably along your jawline while the rest of his hands covered your whole neck. He was able to lift you up like it was nothing, for crying out loud. 

So out of all the things you learned about Robert Floyd tonight, the fact he was well-endowed shouldn't be a surprise.

And yet, here you were, mouth open and eyes wide as saucers when you saw just the tip of his cock peeking out from his boxers, resting against one of his pale thighs. 

That was just the tip?

Was it even going to fit?

"You okay?" His voice was full of concern. His cerulean eyes never left your face. 

"I um….y-you're big." You mentally kicked yourself as soon as the words came out of your mouth. 

A hand flew up to the back of his neck, rubbing the warm skin, "Uh yeah I…that's why I wanted to get you used to my fingers. We um, we don't have to-" 

"No! I mean, that was a 'no' to the idea of us not doing something. Sorry it's," you sighed, bringing a pillow to cover your face, "it's been a while and I've forgotten what's proper etiquette but I know exclaiming that you have a big dick isn't it." 

Bob couldn't help but chuckle, though there was no malicious intent behind it. Usually he was the one rambling and getting flustered. As nice as it was that the tables had turned for once, he didn't like that you were hiding. 

"Don't hide that beautiful face from me, darlin'," it wasn't meant to be a command. But the way his voice was low and raspy made your thighs clench. 

He gently pulled the pillow away, revealing your flustered face. There wasn’t any hint of ego on his face (despite having a very big reason to). Instead his face was sweet, a soft smile adorning his handsome face. 

"I'm sorry," you blurted out. 

Bob shrugged, "For what? I mean, it's kinda….well, hard to miss. Can't exactly hide it, y'know." 

You giggled, instantly feeling more relaxed, "Do you normally talk about your dick size in bed or should I feel very special?" 

"You should feel special," Bob's hands cupped the sides of your face, bringing your lips to his for a brief moment, "because you're absolutely incredible." 

His lips trailed away from yours, moving down to your neck, past your collarbone, until they reached your chest. Your back arched as his mouth took one of your nipples, his teeth gently grazing against the sensitive skin. 

"R-Robby," you gasped when his fingers traced your entrance. 

The way you moaned his name was addicting. Bob had to stop his hips from rolling against the bed, knowing now just how easily he could come from watching you fall apart on his fingers. 

Instead, he watches, memorized by how your cunt stretches to accommodate his thick fingers. His cock twitched at the thought of how it would feel, desperate to have a turn. 

He knows you like him, and he's ninety-five percent positive you're the one for him. Which is why he doesn't want to rush things. 

A groan escapes your lips, your hips buckling up to meet his fingers, despite shaking your head, "I'm-I'm gonna come if you keep doing that." 

Bob chuckled, leaning over so that his face was mere inches away from yours, fallen dark blonde locks tickling your forehead. 

"Ya say that like it's a bad thing, darlin'." Prior to tonight, you had never seen that smirk on his face. It was the closest to cocky that Bob had been and you really shouldn't find it fucking hot but here you were. 

"W-wanna come on your cock," you whined. It wasn’t that you didn’t like his fingers, you loved them inside of you. But now that you knew, you were desperate to know how his cock felt. 

His blue eyes widened as his hand stilled its movements. Bob opened his mouth as if to speak, and then promptly closed it, your words replaying over and over in his brain. 

Fuck. 

Once his brain came back online after short-circuiting, Bob found himself quickly removing his boxers, tossing the undergarment somewhere on the floor of your bedroom. He could pick it up afterwards. 

A joke about being eager was on the tip of your tongue. Though it died as soon as Bob wrapped his arms around you, picking you up and placing you on his lap. 

For someone lean and lanky, he was deceptively strong. 

Any and all thoughts left your brain when his cock slid through your slicked folds. Bob couldn't help but smirk; the person who sought him out, who asked him out, now a moaning mess from just feeling his cock against you. If he had more stamina, he would continue; brush his hardened cock against your clit, drawing out high-strung moans until you made a mess with your own cum. 

Another time. 

It felt exhilarating, knowing there would be more times in the future. You didn't even flinch when he laid you back down on the bed, a pillow now flushed against your hips. You raised an eyebrow, confused by the action. 

“It um…it helps with….y’know.” 

Bob was going to do this right. 

"Please tell me you have lube." It took a few seconds to process his words, as you were too busy registering the fact he was able to manhandle your body without a second thought. 

"Why would we-" 

"We're gonna need it. Makes it easier." The fact he said it with zero doubt, because he knew it was true and he wanted you comfortable, made your head spin. You were used to guys either treating you like a rag doll or as if you were made out of glass. 

But Bob Floyd treated you like you were made of starlight. One that was capable of thoughts, one that deserved having things explained, not to downplay your intelligence, but because you deserve to know. 

It was subtle and the worst part was that he probably didn't think anything of it. To Bob, this was how he would treat anyone he cared about.

But to you, it meant everything. So much that it made your heart swell. 

Meanwhile, Bob was frozen because while he definitely heard you say that you had lube in the top drawer of your dresser, his mind was on another thing that happened to be in his wallet, which was now somewhere on your bedroom floor. 

"I uh-I have a condom in my wallet. Not that I usually carry one around. I mean, obviously I do but like, I didn’t like, actively go out, buy one, and put it in my wallet. One of my buddies gave it to me as a joke and I figured y'know, it's good to have in case I or anyone else needs it. Not that I expect to, you know, it's just it's good to always be prepared just uh just in case. I was a boy scout and they always emphasize that part, being prepared. They didn’t relate it to having sex safely, the context for them was more about carrying a first aid kit and I really should stop talking about that and check if the condom hasn’t expired-"

"God, you're so fucking cute," you sat up, hands reaching out to grab his broad shoulders, crashing your lips onto his in a bruising kiss. 

"T-thanks," Bob mumbled, glad you found his rambling endearing, as well as that you cut him off before he began talking about his Eagle Scout project. 

"I have an IUD. I also wasn't planning on being with anyone besides you." Bob's eyes widened, but instead of regret or fear (the emotions you were used to receiving), there was joy? 

"R-really? Because I feel the exact same way but didn't want to assume anything or-" 

"Have I not made it obvious that I'm crazy about ya Robby?" 

A rosy tint dusted his cheeks as he looked down, "Didn't want to assume." 

"Well, you don't have to assume," you reached out, intertwining your fingers with his, "I like you a lot. So quit assuming I don't." 

“So it….wouldn’t be wrong of me to assume that like, we’re going steady? Like officially-”

“I want you to be my boyfriend, if that’s what you’re asking Robby.” You could feel the smile he had as he kissed you

He gently squeezed your hands, smiling at the reassurance, "Can I make love to you?" 

"I'd love nothing more, Robby." 

Love. 

It's like music to his eyes, hearing the word come out of your mouth. 

He knows it's too soon, and in the back of his mind, he's yelling to himself why did you pick that word don't scare her. But with that sweet smile of yours, it's easy to drown out that nagging voice, and instead focus on the fact he's definitely falling in love with you. 

"Um, where did you say the lube was? Got distracted by that smile of yours." Heat rushes to your face from his words, and you nearly forget to give him an answer. 

With a quickness you had never seen from him, Bob located and applied the lube. Yes it was rude to stare, but it was hard not to look at his dick when it was that noticeable. 

A large hand gently cupped half of your face, "You'll tell me if it's too much, right?" 

"Course," you mumbled against his lips, your hips brushing against his. 

The chuckle he let out made your heart flutter, "I know darlin', I'm excited too. Don't wanna hurt ya." 

You could never hurt me Robby was on the tip of your tongue. But it died upon feeling the head of his cock enter you. The stretch was a delicious pain that made you throw your head back. Your hands dug into his back, leaving half-crescents along his skin. 

Bob's head dropped down to your chest, his mouth taking in one of your hardened nipples. It was a tried and true method; distract you from the initial pain with something more pleasurable. His eyes never left your face, on the lookout for any sign of discomfort. 

The grip you had on him relaxed, your back arching as his teeth gently tugged on the hardened bud. 

"Robby." His name came out in the form of a strangled whine, your cunt still adjusting to the sheer size of him. 

"You okay baby?" He asked before switching to your other breast. 

"Y-yeah. You c-can move now, n-now that it's all-" 

"Darlin', I'm only halfway in ya." 

Fuck. 

"Wait, what?" How quick your voice changed from desperate to shock was near comical. 

Bob tried to stifle his laugh, instead just shrugging, "I….I told ya it was a lot." 

"I didn't realize, I mean, I know you said it was big, but I didn't realize it meant-" Jesus Christ.

"I get it, I know plenty of guys who have said they had nine inches when they really meant five." 

The comment was so unexpected from Bob, you couldn't help but laugh. He joined you, feeling at ease despite that he was halfway inside of you and you felt fucking incredible. 

He peppered your face with light kisses as he slowly inched more of himself into you. As the moments passed, your body began to get used to him. 

"Gonna start movin' now, 'kay?" You nodded eagerly, your fingers gripping the ends of his dark blonde hair. 

"Fuck, Robby!" 

"D-darlin." 

He felt incredible, making you feel a fullness that had your back arching. Had that ever happened before? You thought that was just some made up shit you read in-

All thoughts left your head when the head of his cock brushed against your sensitive walls. Without even thinking about it, your legs wrapped themselves around his waist. 

Bob was trying to think of everything under the sun that would keep himself from coming before you did, which normally wasn't a struggle. 

But you? You felt incredible.

Every sound that escaped your lips was enchanting. If you were a siren, he was diving head first to answer your call. It was mesmerizing watching you react to taking all of him; your lips slightly parted, your fingers grasping at the sheets as his thrusts increased in intensity. Your thighs trembled as he bottomed out once more, eyes widening as you process that he's finally completely inside of you and holy shit. 

Bob wasn't sure what he had done to deserve an angel like you, but he was fucking grateful for it. 

"R-Robby," your voice reduced to nothing but strangled whines, "S'big."

"Fuck, you were made f'me," Bob's voice was low and strained against your ear. His words, combined with the desperate panting that fell from his lips with every thrust, made the coil in your stomach tighten, threatening to snap at any moment. 

The only thing you could muster that resembled speech were longing whines. You wanted to tell him how good it felt, to be stretched by him, to have his cock brush against that sensitive spot that sent you tumbling closer to the edge. That no one had ever felt this good, had been this good to you. 

But that would require the ability to form coherent thoughts. 

"Ya gettin' close baby?" His drawl was thicker. Prior to Bob, you didn't think of Midwestern accents as hot. But his voice was addicting. 

You simply nodded, head now buried in the crook of his neck. 

"Don't worry, I got ya." He brought two fingers up to his mouth, coating them with his tongue. 

The sight had you whining. Call it being greedy, but you wanted all of him. 

"Ya wanna help?" You nodded your head, lips parting to allow his fingers into your mouth. 

"Such a sweet girl," He practically cooed, watching as you took the two digits up to his knuckle. 

The grunt he let out upon feeling your throat tightened as you gagged on his fingers was downright animalistic. It didn't help that Bob could feel how much it turned you on, your cunt clenching  around his cock at the sound. 

 His fingers left your mouth to trail down to where your bodies met and began drawing right circles on your clit. 

At this point, you were ninety percent certain that you were shouting Bob's name. It was hard to tell, between the bed creaking with every thrust, the downright sinful grunts Bob let out everytime he felt your walls tighten, getting closer and closer to the edge. All this, plus the sound of skin slapping against skin? Who could think about noise complaints? 

Your neighbors could get fucked. 

His lips captured yours in a bruising kiss, teeth all but clashing against yours as his tongue became familiar with your mouth. 

"W-wanna ride you," you mumbled against his shoulder, hips buckling against his. 

Bob simply shook his head,  despite how tempting your offer was, "Gotta get ya used to me, darlin'. Next time, 'kay?" 

Next time. Next time. You knew it would be at least a couple of days until next time, that you (and your cunt) would need time to rest and recover and you already knew that in itself was going to be torture because fuck, no one had ever made you feel this good before. 

But you couldn't wait for the next time. 

"C'mon darlin'. Wanna see if ya feel just as good comin' on my cock as ya do on my fingers. Think ya can do that f'me?"

Maybe you nodded. Perhaps you even gave Bob a verbal response. You weren't sure, as your brain had gone fuzzy while white hot pleasure overtook your body. 

Bob was surprised he could still thrust in and out of your cunt, considering how tightly it was clenching his cock as you came. The sight of your head thrown back, eyes closed, as the rest of your body withered in pleasure was enough for him. 

Your eyes opened upon hearing the most beautiful sound; a deep, guttural moan as Bob's hips stuttered before coming inside of you. 

There had to be other ways to get him to make those sinfully sweet noises. 

For the next few minutes, the only sounds in your room was your overhead fan and heavy panting as you and Bob attempted to catch your breath. 

Fuck, he came a lot. 

"Was that, um, was that-" 

"That was fucking incredible." Instinctively, you wrapped your legs around his waist, "Could go for another round if I'm being honest." 

Bob groaned in frustration, "I wanna be able to fuck you within the next few days, not weeks." 

You whined in response as he began to shift his body, the grip your legs had around his waist tightening. 

"Darlin', I don't wanna hurt ya," he knew you would be sore, even if you didn't feel it yet. Bob knew you would tomorrow, hell probably even later tonight. 

"No! Robby, please. N-need you. Need you s'bad." The idea of being empty, of being without him was awful. 

He didn't want to hurt you. 

But he could help wash your sheets. 

"Think you can come f'me one more time?" His voice was raspy as he pulled out. Confusion melted away into pleasure when you felt his cock drag through your soaked folds. 

He was thick and still hard, which baffled you. You were used to 'one and done'. You were used to men rolling over and falling asleep after they fucked you, not even bothering to check if you actually came. 

"You looked s'good, takin' all of me," He cooed. The praise made your head spin. 

Your hips jerk upwards, trying to catch him, but Bob sees right through it. His large hands are able to hold you down and you're honestly not sure if that was better or worse. 

"I told ya darlin', don't wanna hurt ya. Need to take a break," His gruff voice was stern. 

You gasped when the head of his cock dragged against your clit. Bob could already recognize the tall tale signs that you're close; your back arching, eyes screwed shut in pleasure, your whines increasing in pitch. 

He zeroed in on the swollen bundle of nerves, eliciting a near scream from you as you began to come undone on his cock. 

Bob couldn't help it, he tried not to curse that often. But the sight of you soaking his dick with your come caused his brain to go blank. 

What was definitely a scream came out from your lips when you felt his cock slip back inside your cunt. Your hands reached up, tugging at his hair, earning a near-growl from Bob. 

“I can’t get enough of ya. Feel s’fucking good,” each word was punctured by a thrust, “Look so pretty like this.”

As your lips parted, three fingers slid into your mouth. The sudden lack of oxygen, the sensation of his calloused fingers against your tongue, had you nearly gagging on the thick digits. 

Tears began to form at the corner of your eyes. In the back of your mind, this should be painful. Maybe you should tell Bob to stop, he would listen after all. 

But god it felt so damn good. You felt high off the immense pleasure you were experiencing, the big wave brought on by your previous orgasm having melded into small waves of pleasure. Small moans dribbled past his fingers, your hips weakly trying to meet his. 

In the back of his mind, Bob knew he should pause, should stop and ask if you wanted to still continue. But he also knew how much you enjoyed it, despite the tears. 

But that didn’t stop him from dipping his head down to your face, soft lips kissing away the tears. 

“Breathe. Breathe through your nose.” He directed. How did he know that? They certainly didn’t teach that in Eagle Scouts. Or maybe they did during the swimming badge?

His cock brushed against that one spot you swore folks were making up and your mind went blank. Amidst the deep haze, his fingers leave your mouth, hooking themselves under your chin, forcing you to look upwards so he could kiss you again. 

God, did he love kissing you. 

More than the fact you made him come now three times in one night. More than the fact you were currently soaking his cock, back careening off the bed as you continued to come. 

"Oh, R-Robby." 

But that nickname, that made his heart swell, that made him feel truly at ease, made him feel like himself -not Robert or Bob- when you called him that? 

That was a close second. 

Your arms wrapped themselves around his torso, your head resting on his broad shoulder as you began to recover from tonight's excursions. 

"Stay for a little bit. Like being full of you, Robby." 

Fuck, he needed to buy a ring tomorrow. 

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#my writing #Bob Floyd #bob floyd x reader #robert floyd x reader #bob floyd x you #robert bob floyd #robert floyd smut #robert bob floyd x you #robert bob floyd x reader #robert bob floyd imagine #bob floyd smut #bob floyd imagine #top gun smut #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick smut

[tightjeansjavi]

The Rite of Movement | drabble

“I want a Sunday kinda love”

A/N: it’s Wednesday my dudessss and what better way to celebrate another hump day than with some more soft smut and tooth achingly sweet fluff with pornstar!joel and his baby love 💕

~word count: 1.1k~

Summary: a lazy Sunday morning with Joel

Pairing | pornstar!joel x pornstar!female reader

Warnings: none, smut, fluff, established relationship, real sex, intimacy, unprotected piv, cockwarming, sleepy vibes to the max, soft vibes to the max, Joel is in his 40’s reader is in her 30’s, reader has no physical descriptions, readers nickname is baby love, +18 minors dni!

series masterlist

Lazy Sunday mornings have arguably always been Joel’s favorite day of the week. (Any day of the week spent with you is his favorite)

You like to sleep in on the weekends and he’s always been a bit of the early riser type unless he was up late with you the night before then he’ll find himself burying his face against your neck, inhaling your scent and mumbling sleepily into your skin, words jumbled and slurred together. He’ll wind his arms around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest so he can be as close to you as physically possible. He’ll sleep for another hour, give or take, before he finally stirs awake.

He never disturbs you, always lets you sleep as long as you’d like. He’ll press a kiss to your forehead, mumbling a soft whisper of an I love you, and you find yourself smiling in your dream state, snuggling further into your pillow.

Downstairs in the kitchen Joel is careful to not make too much noise as he putzes around the kitchen. He unloads the clean dishes in the dishwasher, humming a tune to himself in the soft morning light. Artemis hops up onto the counter, rubbing against Joel’s arm affectionately, meowing soft and sweet as he gives her a few gentle pets and scratches behind her ears, “mornin’ baby girl,” he coos, kissing the top of her furry head, “I’ll get your breakfast in a sec, ‘Kay?”

She purrs in response, hopping down from the counter and patiently waits for her breakfast.

With Artemis happily munching away on her breakfast, Joel finds himself leaned against the countertop, steaming mug of coffee held between his hands, eyes soft and lips curving in the corners because he thinks of you every morning, tangled in his sheets, dreaming sweet dreams. He smiles, taking a sip of the steaming liquid, letting the domestic comfort he’s feeling seep into his bones for a moment longer.

When you finally do emerge from your slumber, it’s nearing noon, and Joel has already gone for his morning run, showered and started a load of laundry when you sleepily saunter down the staircase. Artemis greets you at the bottom of the stairs, winding in and out between your calves, meowing softly at your arrival.

Hi baby. Your voice is soft, laced with sleep as you scoop her up into your arms, loving on her with your eyes half open as she purrs in content. You set her down on the floor a few moments later, stretching your arms above your head and pad into the living room.

Joel has never looked cozier than he does right now. His hair is still slightly damp from the shower, but in this soft light you can see the little grays in his curls shining through. There’s more grays appearing in his beard as well, and you find yourself kissing the heart shaped patch of skin tenderly, morning and night and all the time in between.

He’s wearing his coziest pair of sweats, no shirt, tan skin on full display, and cheaters perched on the bridge of his nose. A novel held comfortably between his big hands. His eyebrows lift in amusement at a sentence he just read, one stray curl falling over his face. He blows out a puff of air, moving the stray curl to the side so it no longer obstructs his view.

He looks so fucking pretty.

“‘Mornin’, baby love.” He rasps warmly, eyes meeting yours over the top of the page he was reading, lips curving upwards into a lazy, lopsided grin. “How’d my girl sleep?”

You mumble out a reply, rubbing the sleep from your eyes as you approach him on the couch, “slept good, baby.” You hum softly and climb into his lap, snuggling right up to him with your arms draped around his neck, fingers playing with the damp curls at the base of his hairline, “you need a trim, Joel.”

“Mmm.” He man spreads his thighs so that you have more room and lets his freehand drop the book so he can grab onto you, and feel your skin beneath his palm. “Wanna give me a trim when you’re a little more awake?”

“Mhmm.” You reply, burying your face into his neck where you can smell his body wash and cologne mingling together. “Can I…sit on it for a little while, please? Just wanna feel closer to you. Maybe you can read to me too?”

He smiles at your question, the softness and honeyed tone of your voice, feeling his heart swell like a balloon because this closeness and intimacy that he gets to share with you is something that he will cherish for the rest of his life.

He nods, pressing a kiss to the side of your head, lips warm and gentle, “anytime you want, baby, all me s’yours. Remember?” He gently reminds you, and lets his hand drift between your bodies, pushing the hem of his sweats down over his hips so that you have easier access.

He’s freeballin’ it today, #laundrydayamiritelaidease ;)

His cock is half hard, lying comfortably against the soft swell of his stomach, velvety skin warm to the touch when your palm gently strokes him, “I know, baby. But I always like to ask.” You murmur, kissing his neck sweetly, affectionately.

He hums and a soft grunt rumbles up his chest, hips shifting and he reaches for your cotton sleep shorts, pulling them to the side to reveal your bare pussy to his hooded gaze. His fingers tease through your folds, gently stroking you, feeling how soft and wet you are for him. He spreads his pointer and middle finger apart, a translucent strand of arousal spread between them, stringy like a delicate fiber from a spider's web. “S’wet for me. S’soft, s’pretty, baby love. Love you so much.” He rasps.

You slowly sink down around him, feeling that delicious and familiar stretch of his girth, and your walls sucking him in like a vice. Your body naturally molds to him, accommodating to his size. His hand rests along your bare hip, gently squeezing and kneading the soft flesh between his fingers. “I love you, Joel. My baby.”

He settles back into his book, head tilting to rest against your own as he listens to your faint soft breaths and occasional whimpers when he pulses gently inside of you. You’ve fallen back into a sweet slumber in his arms and when he feels his own eyelids begin to grow heavy, and the words on the page he’s reading blur together, he presses another kiss to the side of your head murmuring, “my baby love mine, all mine, all mine.”

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