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munson-blurbs · 9 months

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Single Dad!Eddie x Fem!Reader Series

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14

Summary: Will's birthday party brings back some familiar faces and gives Eddie the perfect opportunity to make amends with Corroded Coffin, but an unexpected interruption might have him hurtling towards his old ways.

Warnings: some dirty talk (18+ only just in case), drinking/drunkenness (everyone is over 21), pregnancy and labor complications, mentions of past bullying

WC: 8.2k

Chapter 14/20

Divider credit to @saradika Special shoutout to @storiesbyrhi and @corroded-hellfire for helping with the fluffy sections and making this piece strong.

Afternoons at Hawkins Preschool are predictable: storytime on the carpet is followed by the kids’ pack-up routine, and once all belongings are shoved into their proper backpacks, they file out the door to go home.

Predictable is good. It’s safe. And it certainly doesn’t include a fire drill half an hour before dismissal.

Herding nine children through the bustling hallways and trying to ensure no one is left behind is overwhelming enough. Factor in the ear-splitting alarm and the surge of adrenaline pulsing through your students once they re-enter your classroom, and you’ve got the perfect recipe for chaos.

Instead of fighting a losing battle to keep the kids calm and quiet, you’d opted to plunk them down with myriad art supplies and called it a day.

Now, after the last student had been picked up, you and Will are left cleaning the mess they’d made. Broken crayons are scattered across the tabletops, there’s Play-Doh of various colors stuck to the floor, and gold glitter—when did you even acquire glitter?—dusts every surface.

“Seriously…who thought that that timing was a good idea?” Will grumbles, tossing a Crayola stub into the crayon basket. He adopts a nasal, mocking tone. “‘What would help out our teachers? Oh, I know—let’s interrupt their dismissal routines!’”

You laugh despite your own exhaustion. Somehow, you’ll have to muster up the energy to tutor Harris tonight.

Will reaches into the cupboard to grab his car keys, turning back around with a smile that he only offers you when he needs something. “Could I ask you for a little favor?”

There it is. “How little?” You cock one brow as you clip a stack of papers together.

“Eensy weensy. Miniscule. Microscopic–”

“The more you say it, the less I believe you.”

“Okay, okay,” Will acquiesces, twirling his keyring around his forefinger. “So, for my birthday thing on Saturday…a bunch of my childhood friends are gonna be there. Mike, Dustin, Suzie, Lucas, Max, Jane…” he lists them, ticking off each name on his fingers. “Anyway, I was hoping that maybe you could talk to Eddie about a Corroded Coffin reunion? I know they’re on a hiatus or whatever, but if anyone can convince him to play, it’s you.”

He’s not wrong; you’re the most likely person to get Eddie to do, well, anything. But asking him to make amends with Danny and Gareth and getting their band to play a gig three days from now seems like a mountainous task.

Will is staring at you, hands clasped together pleadingly. He’s too optimistic for his own good, and you can’t help but give in.

“Fine, I’ll try. But–hey, don’t get excited yet,” you warn when he pumps his fist in celebration. “‘Try’ is the key word here. I’m not making any promises.”

Your admonition goes unheeded as Will already considers it a victory. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” You give him a small, tight-lipped wave as he dashes out the door. You and Eddie were already planning to attend the party; you’d spent part of last night scouring an art store for the perfect gift. And he and Jeff were back to being thick as thieves…maybe this could work.

“All right, Mr. Harris,” you say with a laugh, hurriedly placing tiles of various shapes in front of him. You need to make the most of the few minutes you have left until Eddie arrives. There’s a soft, familiar flutter in your stomach as you think about seeing your boyfriend, but you know you can’t compete with him for Harris’s attention. “Can you find the…trapezoid?” The inflection in your voice makes it sound like a much more exciting task than it really is, and you hope it’s enough to wrangle his focus.

Harris pokes out his tiny pink tongue as he assesses the tiles. He initially reaches for the blue rhombus, but as soon as his little finger touches it, he pulls away as though it’s on fire. “No…that’s not it.” You tuck your lips into your mouth to suppress your amusement as he thoughtfully taps his forefinger on his lips. A solid ten seconds pass before he triumphantly snatches up the correct tile. “Got it!” he beams, showing off the red trapezoid in his hand.

“You did! You got the trapezoid!” You hold up your hand for a high-five, frowning when he shakes his head. His overgrown curls brush along his eyebrows, and you wonder if it’s your place to suggest that Eddie take him for a haircut. “No high-five?”

“Nuh-uh,” Harris protests, now swiveling his whole body in defiance. “I want…tickles!” He holds his arms out, leaving his torso wide open.

Lips pursed in faux consideration, you lower your voice to a hushed whisper. “Hmm…I think that warrants a visit from the Tickle Monster!” You flex your fingers so they resemble claws; he instinctively scrunches up in anticipation, arms tucked into his stomach. You let out your silliest wicked cackle as your fingers dig mercilessly into his sides in pursuit of his most ticklish spots. Delighted peals of laughter emanate from his chest, and you don’t stop until the buzzer rings, signaling Eddie’s arrival.

Harris’s eyes get wide, mischief dancing behind his pupils. “Do you think the Tickle Monster should get Daddy?” he asks, keeping his voice low despite it only being the two of you.

“Oh, absolutely.” You buzz Eddie in while formulating the game plan aloud. “I’ll grab the pizza and you go on the attack. Once the food is secured, I’ll join you.” You stick out your pinky, and he wraps his own around it.

“Ms. Sweetheart?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

His words turn your heart into a chocolate chip cookie fresh out of the oven, ooey gooey and destined to crumble if handled too harshly. “I love you, too, Harris,” you manage, blinking back embarrassing tears. The flood of emotion is absurd; he probably tells his stuffed animals that he loves them with the same fervor, but you can’t deny the adoration with which he looks at you.

He flings his arms around you in a hug, squeezing tight. Face pressed to your ribs, his words are muffled but still audible when he says, “I don’t know why Daddy says it’s hard to say ‘I love you.’”

He doesn’t have time to further elaborate before Eddie’s knocking on the door. “Special delivery for my two favorite people!” Your heart beats faster with the knowledge that he’s on the other side, that you’ll be able to sneak in a kiss or two.

You and Harris share devious grins, the little boy emulating your monster-esque stance from earlier. He creeps behind you on his tiptoes, and bites back a giggle when you slowly open the door, counting down from three under your breath.

“Hi–whoa!” Eddie stumbles back as Harris barrels into him, little fingers dancing across his lower stomach. You quickly snatch the pizza box from Eddie’s grasp and place it on the table before darting back to where his son has ambushed him. You start on his bicep and let your nails travel upwards until they reach the crook of his neck.

“I’m under attack!” Eddie yelps, twitching this way and that way in a meager attempt to protect himself. “I bring you pizza and this is how I’m repaid?” He easily scoops Harris into his arms, flinging him over his shoulder. Harris lets out an exhilarated squeal, carelessly kicking his sock-clad feet into his dad’s chest. “Jesus, little dude. You’re getting too strong.” Wincing slightly from the pinch in his back as he places the boy on the floor, he gives his tush a little pat and tells him to wash up for dinner, reminding him to use soap and water.

As soon as Harris scampers off into the bathroom, Eddie’s grabbing you by the belt loops of the wide-leg jeans you’d changed into when you got home. One hand slides around your waist and the other finds purchase on your cheek as he kisses you deeply, keeping a listening ear out for the telltale pitter-patter of Harris returning.

“Missed you,” he murmurs into your mouth, and you shiver at the intimacy this closeness brings.

You laugh quietly, biting your lower lip. “We just saw each other this morning,” you remind him, sneaking in another quick peck.

Eddie shakes his head. “Y’know what I mean. Can’t do this while you’re on the clock,” he counters, shifting his grip so both hands rest on either side of your face. You think he’s going to kiss you again, but he just gazes into your eyes. “Shit, you’re so fuckin’ pretty. Couldn’t stop thinkin’ about you today.” He rests the slope of his nose on yours, only snapping out of his trance at the sound of Harris rapidly switching the faucet on and off. “Let me go check on him before this place is underwater,” he whispers, giving your own ass a smack as he shuffles towards his mischievous son, a cheeky grin deepening his dimples.

You do your best to compose yourself, heat creeping up your neck and into your face. Busying yourself by placing pizza slices onto paper plates does little to distract you; it’s as though every neuron is dedicated to flooding your brain with Eddie, Eddie, Eddie.

The way the pads of his fingertips brush against your cheeks when he holds your face. The plush moisture of his lips when he kisses your forehead. The tickle of his brown tresses when he nuzzles into you and takes a deep breath, finally able to relax after a long day.

“Are you expecting a guest?” Eddie pipes up from the kitchen entrance. A perplexed frown overtakes your lips until he gestures to what you’ve laid out in front of you: four slices of pizza, two plain and two with olives, on four plates.

Your vision gets a bit fuzzy with tears when you realize what you’ve done. “No, it’s, um…” Nostrils flare as you huff out a short puff of air, hot under your nose. “Force of habit, sorry.” You’ve been so diligent about only serving three slices, but your preoccupation with his touch had your mind drifting from the task at hand.

It takes him a moment to process what you mean, but when he does, his face falls. It was for Grandma. “It’s okay,” he says, cringing as the words leave his mouth. Because it’s not okay that you’re sad; it’s normal, but frustration still tugs at his heart that he can’t take it away.

It feels wrong to return the slice to the box, so you leave it where it is. Eddie balances the three plates, sliding a plain one in front of Harris. The boy digs in hungrily, sauce caught on the edges of his smile.

“How was work?” you ask Eddie, grabbing a napkin from the pile in the center of the table. It’s a simple question, one that people ask each other all the time, but it stirs up a warmth inside of him. It’s you asking him, fostering a domestic routine that he could follow for the rest of his life. He’d walk through the door of your house, wiping his shoes on the welcome mat you two had picked out together. The kids–Harris, plus another Little Munson or two–would practically knock him down trying to greet him, and he’d engulf them in bear hugs before reaching out to you, kissing your forehead with a murmured, “there’s my girl.”

“Eds?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah, it was good.” He stumbles over the words, trying to clear his head of the fantasy he’d conjured up. “Lotsa paperwork, y’know.” He takes a bite of pizza, chewing thoughtfully. “What about you?”

You shrug, watching amusedly as Harris sinks his teeth into his slice and manages to pull all of the cheese off of the crust in one fell swoop. “The usual. The kids are learning about springtime, so Will decided to do a craft making flowers using finger paint and their handprints.”

“Sounds messy.”

“Oh, absolutely,” you agree with a weary grin, “but it was super cute, and Will is great with all that art stuff.” You excuse yourself from the table to get the water pitcher and three glasses, stopping when you remember your TA’s request. “He also asked me if a certain local metal band could play his birthday party on Saturday…?”

Eddie pauses mid-chew, nearly choking on his food. The cheese seems to congeal in his mouth when he tries to speak. “Um, I don’t know about that,” he finally manages, nervously massaging the back of his neck. “I haven’t talked to Danny or Gareth since…”

“I know, but you said you wanted to make things right with them,” you point out. “Maybe Jeff can test the waters? See if they’re ready to talk to you?”

“Maybe.” He averts his gaze, staring at the pizza slice without taking another bite.

You don’t want to further push the subject in Harris’s presence; instead, you turn your attention to the little boy. “Anything fun happen at school today, Har?”

“Nah,” he responds automatically just a half-second before his eyes light up. “Actually, yeah! My friend Charlie ate a bug at recess today!”

“Ew!” you exclaim, wrinkling your nose in pure disgust, as Eddie simultaneously poses the question, “what kind of bug?”

“An ant,” Harris answers his dad nonchalantly, as though ant-eating is an everyday occurrence. Perhaps it is, which is even more unsettling.

“Did you eat any bugs?” You’re afraid of his response; you’re unsure why you even asked in the first place.

To your relief, he shakes his head, a forlorn look on his cherubic face. “No, I couldn’t catch any in time.”

“Thank God for small miracles,” you mutter, turning back to your original task of getting something to drink. Though if the topic of bug consumption continues, you’ll need something much stronger than water.

Could Corroded Coffin play again?

It’s a thought that consumes Eddie for the entirety of his drive home, barely able to listen to Harris yammering about how there’s a coin in his jacket pocket that he doesn’t remember putting there. He throws a few lackluster mhms his son’s way and hopes he’s too distracted by the mystery coin to catch on.

We’re getting the band back together. Well, if Jake and Elwood Blues could swing it, maybe he could, too.

He waits until Harris is asleep to call Jeff. Getting his son to do his bedtime routine is easiest on Wednesday nights; he’s usually exhausted after a full day of school and tutoring. The one time that Eddie could use an excuse to procrastinate, Harris is out like a light.

Go to voicemail go to voicemail go to—

“‘Lo?”

Shit. “H-Hey, man,” Eddie begins awkwardly. “How’s it going? Viv doing okay?”

“We’re good. She’s ready to have this baby already. I reminded her, ‘just two more weeks,’ but then she told me to ‘fuck off’ until I’m the pregnant one, so…” he chuckles, more nervous than amused. “Everything good with you? Harris?”

“Yeah, we’re fine. Just, um,” he struggles to find the words, blurting out the first ones that enter his brain. They come out in a rush before he can stop them. “Do Gareth and Danny still hate me?”

Jeff takes a sharp breath in; his reaction does nothing to temper Eddie’s nerves. “They never hated you. They were just…disappointed? Jesus, I sound like my mom.”

Eddie misses his friend’s anecdote, too wrapped up in his head to fully pay attention. Somehow, disappointed stings worse than the prospect of being hated, especially when the people he’s let down are ones who used to idolize him. “Do you think there’s a way they could be…undisappointed in me? Like, enough to forgive me and maybe play a gig this weekend?”

There’s an extended pause, and then a one-word response: “Christ.”

Eddie can picture Jeff rubbing his eyes in exasperation, and he scrambles to explain. “Will Byers–you remember him? He was in Hellfire; had that weird bowl cut thing going on?”

“Mhm.”

“He’s having a birthday thing at the Hideout on Saturday and asked if we could play. Just a coupla songs.”

Jeff thinks for a moment; Eddie can hear him drumming his fingers on a nearby surface.

“Why don’t you come over tomorrow night around…6?” he ventures. “I’ll invite the guys and we can…I dunno, figure something out.”

“Thanks, man. I owe you.” He’s about to hang up when he remembers to ask, “Can I bring Harris?”

“Of course.”

“Har, slow down!” Eddie’s barely unbuckled his son’s car seat before Harris has wriggled out of the sedan, bolting straight for Jeff’s door.

“But I haven’t seen Uncle Danny and Uncle Gareth in forever!” he laments, reaching the house far faster than Eddie. He stands on tiptoes and rings the doorbell like a madman, forefinger jamming into the button at warp speed. “Uncle Jeff! It’s me!”

Jeff opens the door with a huge smile. “Mini Munson!” He scoops the boy up into a hug. “What’s new with you, little dude?”

“I got a wiggly tooth!” Harris exclaims, jutting out his jaw and pressing his tongue against the front center of his mouth. Sure enough, the baby tooth moves slightly forward, and he giggles. “Daddy says the Tooth Fairy’s gonna come and leave me a dollar,” he matter-of-factly reports. He peeks his head over Jeff’s shoulder, squealing and squirming out of his grip when he spots the two men sitting on the couch. He flings himself onto the sofa and plunks himself down into Gareth’s lap. “Hi!”

“Hey, kiddo!” Gareth chirps. “You’re getting so big.”

“‘M five now. I had a birthday party because I turned five.” He splays out his palm to offer five fingers.

“Did your friends go?”

“Yup!” Harris beams at the memory. “An’ Daddy an’ Grampa Wayne an’ Ms. Sweetheart.”

Danny furrows his brows. “Who’s Ms. Sweetheart?”

“She’s my almost-mommy. Daddy has to fall in love with her first.”

“Is that so?” Gareth smirks at Eddie. His teasing look is the first crack in the wall that has separated the men for the last six months, and though Eddie is thoroughly embarrassed, it alleviates some of his anxiety.

“Uh, Har Bear, why don’t you go hang out with Auntie Viv while I talk with the guys?”

Viv holds out her left hand, looking utterly exhausted. Her right hand rests on her bump, eyes sending a telepathic message to Jeff that they have five minutes—ten minutes, if Harris behaves well—to come to a solution before she needs a break.

Silence filters into the room as Eddie fumbles to address the mess he’s made. If Danny and Gareth are here, they’re at least willing to listen to him, which is honestly farther than he’d assumed he’d get.

He remembers what Harris said about apologizing; technically, what you’d taught him about apologizing: the act of saying sorry, not merely implying it, makes a world of difference.

“I was an asshole,” he starts. It’s not his most eloquent statement, but it certainly gets the point across. “Not just that night at the Hideout, or at our last practice. I was an asshole for a long time before that. And…I’m sorry.” It feels good to say it; it feels even better that they’re nodding, seeming to believe him. “You guys didn’t deserve to be treated like that.”

Of the rest of the band, Gareth is the one to speak first. “I guess I’m just wondering, why? Why be an asshole to us? We’ve always been there for you.”

“I know.” Eddie fiddles with a thread hanging from his t-shirt, pulling on it until it snaps off. He shoves it in his jeans pocket, not wanting to mess up Jeff and Viv’s place. “Honestly…I’m not sure, but I think it’s because you guys are everything I’m not.”

“What are you talking about?” Danny asks, tone heavy with disbelief.

“In high school, I was the one you looked up to. The person you wanted to be like. And then I had a kid with some random chick I thought I knew but barely did, gave up my dreams of being a musician, and started selling weed again just to scrape by. And here you guys are. Jeff,” he motions to the friend leaning against the sofa’s arm, “you have a baby on the way with the love of your life. And all of you have goddamn college degrees and jobs that you don’t despise and don’t require you to hide from the law.” He shoves his ringed fingers into his jacket pockets, lowering his voice to barely above a whisper. “And I was nothing.”

Gareth scratches at the upholstery with one finger, absorbing everything he’s just heard. “You know we never stopped looking up to you, right?” He gives a short laugh when Eddie’s eyes widen. “Yeah, man. Leaving Chicago so you could take care of Harris? Putting your kid before yourself? That’s pretty badass.”

Danny nods. “Ed, if there’s someone here to look up to, it’s you.” Both he and Eddie visibly relax. Shoulders drop from their hunched positions, thin lips unfurling into smiles. “No matter what you went through, you never gave up. Even if it almost killed us,” he adds wryly, referring to all of the sleep-deprived Corroded Coffin practices fueled by black coffee and pure adrenaline.

“No fancy diploma can teach us how to stand up for ourselves, or how not to take shit from people, or how to be a dad,” Jeff pipes up from where he’s standing. “We learn from you, man.”

Eddie’s cheeks burn at the compliments, unsure how to accept them. He’d walked in expecting to have to beg for forgiveness, and they were the ones reassuring him. It’s now or never, and he forges ahead while he still has the courage. “Do you…can we get the band back together?” Can we be friends again is the underlying plea, but it’s too vulnerable a statement to make. “We’ll keep it low-key, I promise. Work, family, anything comes up…we can cancel or reschedule. And I won’t be a dick about it.”

The three other men look at one another, nod and turn back to Eddie with smart grins and mischievous glimmers in their eyes.

“On one condition.” Gareth crosses his arms over his chest, smirking as he sinks back against the couch. “You tell us all about this ‘Ms. Sweetheart.’”

The Hideout, normally dingy and coated in a film of sticky ale, has been decked out for Will’s birthday party. Helium-filled balloons in every color bob along the low ceiling, vibrating with the thumping bass of the old sound system. Crepe paper streamers–purple, Will’s favorite color–sway gently with the air that rushes in from opening the door. This has to be Marshall’s handiwork, and it brings a smile to your face. If anyone deserves a partner who fawns over him, it’s Will.

You spot him surrounded by a group of people as the bartender slides a row of tequila shots across the bar and into their eager hands. While they’re distracted by alcohol, you take the opportunity to dart towards the backstage area.

Eddie’s there, digging around for his lucky pick. You wrap your arms around his waist, fingers pressed into the soft dough of his tummy.

“Hey, Rockstar,” you murmur against his neck, kissing just below his earlobe.

He turns around, jaw dropping when he sees you in a maroon slip dress. The heels on your feet have you two inches taller than usual, and he has to shift where his gaze normally lands to meet your eyes.

“Fuckin’ Christ, baby,” Eddie practically growls, kissing you deeply. One hand presses against the small of your back while the other grabs the plush of your ass, kneading it in his palm. “You’re so fuckin’ sexy. How’m I gonna go out there and play with you looking like that?”

“I’ll make it worth your while.” You giggle when he offers up a bemused smile. “If you do a good job tonight, I’ll give you a reward.” You let your fingertips graze over the metal teeth of his pants zipper, feeling him twitch at your light touch.

“You’re dangerous,” he winks, delivering another kiss; this time, he gives your lower lip a little bite when he pulls away. His kohl-rimmed eyes draw you in just as they did that first night you’d met, but now you dive into them without the fear of drowning.

A tactful “ahem” from the now-open doorway startles both you and Eddie, having been floating in an embrace that’s equal parts comfort and desire.

“Sorry to interrupt the lovefest, but we’re on in five,” a man’s voice calls from the doorway. You turn around to see the other three Corroded Coffin members standing there, amusement evident in their expressions.

“You must be Ms. Sweetheart,” one of the guys, soft curls resting atop his head, pipes up. His tone is teasing, but not mocking; the nickname is said with admiration and affection. “I’m Gareth, by the way.”

“Danny,” the one with tight, wiry curls offers, giving a small wave.

Jeff just shrugs. “You know me.”

Eddie grabs his guitar, slinging the strap across his body. His pants’ fly is tight, and he wills himself to calm down before it’s time to perform. He hasn’t worried about being hard on stage since he was nineteen, but thoughts of your bodies perfectly melding into each other has him subtly adjusting himself as he turns his back to his bandmates.

“See ya out there, baby,” he says before pressing a quick kiss to your cheek. The brief contact between you has you biting your tongue in self-beration for suggesting that the band play tonight. All you want is to dance with him, allowing the steady flow of alcohol to dull your inhibitions as you pull him impossibly close. Not caring who sees or what they think.

But this night isn’t about you or Eddie. It’s about Will, your TA-turned-friend who has kept you sane amidst your adorably chaotic students and their decidedly less adorable and more chaotic parents. He wanted Corroded Coffin to play his party, and that’s the least you could do for him.

Will’s already teetering between tipsy and inebriated, breath tinged with the scent of tequila as he introduces you to his friends.

“This is my amazing boyfriend, Marshall.” He smacks a wet kiss to the man’s cheek. “And these are my friends from growing up: Dustin and Suzie, Lucas and Max, and Mike and Jane.” His face melts into a sappy grin as he leans on Marshall to hold him up. “You guys! We’re all in looooove!”

“Jesus Christ,” Dustin mutters, rolling his eyes and shaking his head before turning his attention back to you. “Can we get you something to drink?”

Will raises his empty glass. “I’ll take another–”

“Not you.”

You manage to sneak in a quick conversation with Max, Suzie, and Jane before Corroded Coffin starts their set. Max is finishing up her Masters in English literature at New York University, set to graduate in two months. Suzie programs for NASA, and though Florida is a far cry from her home state of Utah, she loves her job. And Jane is a social worker at a local adoption agency, the cause close to her heart, as she was adopted by Chief Hopper years ago.

“Damn,” you laugh, taking a small sip of your vodka soda. You’re having so much fun that you don’t even care that it’s been watered down. “You’re all such badasses!”

Your admiration of their collective girl power is cut short by the sound of Corroded Coffin taking the stage. It’s as though they’d never taken an extended break; just picked up right where they left off. You cheer so loudly that there’s a pinch in your throat, but you push past it. It’s more than applause. There’s so much tucked away in your yell: I’m proud of you; you’re a rockstar; you’re my person forever, if you’ll have me.

“Hello, Hawkins!” Eddie bellows into the mic. There’s no missing the grin on his face. He’s happy. He’s in his element. He’s where he belongs.

“No way!” Lucas exclaims, awestruck as he turns to Will.

“Dude, you got Corroded Coffin?” Mike mirrors his friend’s excitement. He slings an arm around Will’s shoulder and pulls him in for a side hug. “This is fuckin’ awesome!”

“The first song of the night goes out to our guest of honor, Will Byers!” Everyone hoots and hollers as Eddie plays the opening chords to The Clash’s Should I Stay or Should I Go. Eddie told you he remembered that the song was one of Will’s favorites growing up; his older brother had gotten him into the band. Sure enough, Will’s bopping to the rhythm, singing every word, albeit quite off-key.

Corroded Coffin plays a few more songs from their usual setlist, nerves dissipating with each note, before Eddie speaks into the mic again.

“This next one is for my beautiful girlfriend,” he announces, eyes gazing into yours. “Baby, if my teachers looked like you, I actually would’ve gone to class.”

He nods at Gareth, who starts playing an incredibly complicated beat. As soon as you hear it, you feel your cheeks heat up. The rest of the guys join in on their own instruments, and Eddie oozes bravado as he sings.

“T-Teacher stop that screamin’ Teacher don’t you see Don’t wanna be no uptown fool.”

Max leans in to you and whisper-shouts, “I’ve known Eddie for years, and I’ve never seen him so…happy.”

Lucas overhears his girlfriend and adds his two cents. “That’s because we’ve never seen him in love.”

Warmth spreads all over your body, but it’s not from embarrassment. Allowing yourself to believe that Eddie loves you—is in love with you—opens a door you’d deadbolted until the time was right. You hadn’t wanted to rush things, but the jolt of exhilaration following Lucas’s statement means you can’t deny it any longer: you love Eddie Munson. You’re in love with Eddie Munson.

“Got it bad, got it bad, got it bad I'm hot for teacher I've got it bad, so bad I'm hot for teacher.”

Will takes the opportunity to twirl you around, and you laugh as you spin amongst new friends, your drink threatening to spill over the sides as he turns you faster.

“Hey! Thank you, by the way!” he shouts, probably a bit louder than he needs to.

“For what?”

“For getting Corroded Coffin to play!” He jerks a thumb towards the stage, stumbling a bit as he does. He’d managed to sneak another tequila shot when his boyfriend left him unattended to use the restroom, and it definitely shows. “And for, like, being there for me.”

You give him a hug, immediately understanding the full implication of his statement. “I’ll always have your back,” you promise, filled with the mingled buzzes of alcohol and belonging.

“I think of all the education that I've missed But then my homework was never quite like this!”

Eddie jumps off of the tiny stage and into the crowd of nine twenty-somethings, each at various levels of tipsiness, and reaches for you to pull you close to him. He’s sweating from constantly moving around and the stage lights, his fingers slick with perspiration as he laces them with yours. Jeff picks up the rhythm for the lead guitar while Eddie kisses you, soft and slow and sensual. He loses himself for a moment before hopping back up to join the rest of the band.

As Corroded Coffin wraps up their Van Halen cover and stops for a quick sip of water, there’s a small commotion behind the bar.

“Is there a Jeff Reynolds here?” the bartender calls out, phone receiver in hand.

Jeff gives a little wave, eyebrows raised in surprise. “That’s me.”

“Someone named Jess on the line? Says your girl is in labor and you need to get to the hospital.”

“Holy shit!” Danny claps a hand to Jeff’s back and grins. “C’mon, man! Let’s get you outta here!”

Jeff freezes up; hands clammy as he grips the guitar’s neck. “Can you drive?” he asks Eddie.

Eddie recognizes the fear in his friend’s voice. The selfish part of him wants to refuse to take Jeff to Hawkins General. He could easily plant his feet on the stage and keep playing, claiming that ‘the show must go on.’

No, he silently chastises himself, Jeff needs me. He needs me and I’ll be damned if I let him down again.

“Of course,” Eddie says, trying to force a relaxed disposition. It doesn’t matter; Jeff is too overwhelmed to notice the obvious effort.

“Take my car,” you offer, keys already dangling from your fingertips. “Eds, I can take yours and pick up Harris from Wayne’s tomorrow.” It’s easier to swap rides than to uninstall and reinstall the carseat, so you’re perplexed when Eddie shakes his head.

Two words slip through his lips, soft but pronounced: “Need you.”

Dustin catches wind of the situation and insists on watching Harris until you and Eddie can come back home, claiming he needs to squeeze in as much uncle-nephew bonding time as possible before returning to Florida.

“Henderson, it’s late; don’t let him stay up,” Eddie warns as he tosses over his car keys.

Dustin tries catching them in one hand, but they hit the center of his palm and fall to the ground. “But the best part of being an uncle is breaking the rules!” he laughs as he scoops the keys off of the floor. “By the way, I’m not drunk; just a shit baseball player.” Still, Eddie’s sigh of relief is audible when Suzie plucks the keyring from Dustin’s hand.

With Harris taken care of, you turn your attention to your boyfriend. Eddie’s face is flushed pale, and you’re worried about him behind the wheel. “Want me to drive?”

He nods and grabs onto your hand as you lead the two men to your car. Eddie’s doing his best to keep Jeff calm, reminding him that the doctors and nurses have everything under control until he gets there.

“I’m gonna be a dad,” Jeff murmurs, a disbelieving chuckle permeating the otherwise silent car. “Holy shit.”

Eddie can’t help but smile back. “It only gets crazier from here.”

The bright lights of the hospital’s waiting room are anything but soothing, especially compared to the dimly-lit bar you’d just left. You speak to the receptionist, an older woman with a tired smile and red-rouged cheeks, explaining the situation as she pages Jess while Jeff and Eddie take a seat.

Jeff’s voice is nearly impossible to hear despite the stillness of the room. “The baby was breech at Viv’s last appointment.” He clocks Eddie’s confusion and elaborates. “Feet first, instead of the head. If they didn’t get into the right position and the doctors can’t, I dunno, flip ‘em around? They’ll have to do a c-section.” Long overdue tears spill over his lash line, and he makes no attempt to swipe them away. “I just wanna fix it and I can’t.”

Helplessness. It’s a feeling Eddie knows all too well. He spins a ring around his finger, exhaling softly as he considers a response. He can’t say it’ll be alright, because he has no idea whether or not it will be. He and Jeff both know that.

“No matter what, I’m here for you.” Eddie’s gaze flits over to the receptionist’s desk, where Jess has now arrived and is waving her brother-in-law over. “You’re up.”

But Jeff remains in his chair, hands shoved under his thighs as though they’re glued to the seat. “I…I don’t know if I can do this. What if something happens to Viv or the baby? How can I…?” He doesn’t allow himself to complete the sentence, to finish the thought.

Instinctively, Eddie puts his hands on Jeff’s shoulders. He can feel them trembling slightly as his friend heaves another shaky breath. “Listen to me. You’re gonna do this. You’re gonna go in that room and watch your girl give birth to your baby. Because if you don’t, you’re gonna regret it for the rest of your fuckin’ life.” He glances around and lowers his voice. “I know you’re scared, okay? I get it. And once your kid is safely here, we can talk about it. But right now, you need to pull it together and go be a goddamn dad.”

Jeff nods, finally acquiring the physical stability to stand. “Thank you,” he whispers, clearing his throat and wiping the wet stains from his cheeks. He starts towards Jess before turning back to Eddie. “Could you stay until the baby’s born? If you have to get home to Harris, I understand…”

There it is: his out. He can easily use his son as an excuse, despite the fact that Dustin and Suzie were perfectly capable of babysitting him. He can hightail it out of here and never look back. He can crawl into bed and feel sorry for himself for having to step foot in a godforsaken maternity ward again.

“Yeah. I can stay.”

Nearly an hour passes with Eddie’s head resting on your shoulder, relaying what Jeff told him. Identical knots form in your stomachs as the seriousness of the complications sets in. You don’t say a word as he speaks; you just try to shift without disturbing him. The cushion on the chair back, worn thin, digs into you uncomfortably, but you don’t dare move too much. His vulnerability is a deer that will scamper away at the slightest startle.

You think he’s fallen asleep until you feel his soft lips on your cheek, a muffled, “mine?” against your skin. You note his phrasing; it’s careful and unsure, a symptom of being in his own head for far too long.

“Of course I’m yours,” you whisper back, pressing a kiss to his scalp. “What’s got you asking such silly questions?”

“I don’t like this.” It’s an answer and non-answer all in one.

“Being in a hospital?”

He shakes his head, frizzed curls tickling the crook of your neck. His forehead is sticky with cooled perspiration. “Waiting to see if the baby is okay.”

The realization hits you like a punch to the stomach, immediately hollowing you out. The last time he went through this, it was when Harris was being born. You can’t think of anything to say, so you just nuzzle in closer to him and exhale.

“Why do I feel like this?” Neither of you are sure if he’s asking you, himself, or the universe. “‘S not the same. Viv’s not using drugs; Jeff stuck around the whole time…”

“Doesn’t matter. That’s not how this stuff works, y’know?” You adjust your position so you can look into his eyes. The whites are stained red with worry and exhaustion. “Your gig got interrupted, just like when Harris was born. And there's uncertainty now, too. It’s normal for these kinds of memories to get dredged up.” Your palm rests on his cheek, thumb gently stroking the skin as you ask, “can you try to get some sleep?”

“But what if Jeff needs—”

“I’ll wake you up if he needs you,” you reassure him, settling back into the chair. You lean your head against the wall; the heaviness in your eyelids battles the anxious fluttering in your stomach, but it seems as though sleep is winning.

Eddie’s hand finds your forearm, rubbing up and down the gooseflesh that has appeared courtesy of the air conditioning blasting through the building. Shrugging off his jacket and resting the leather fabric over your shoulders, he can relax once he’s reassured that you’re comfortable. He assumes his previous position, using your shoulder as a pillow and falling asleep gradually, body jostling itself awake from the unfamiliar sleeping arrangement. Eventually, you can hear his soft snores; for the first time tonight, he’s peaceful.

You could tell him now, a whisper under your breath that he’s unlikely to hear. I love you, Eddie. I’m in love with you. Your lips part in anticipation, but you snap them shut. You’re delirious and overwhelmed; Lucas’s throwaway comment about Eddie being in love is rattling around your brain. If you say it and Eddie hears you…

You keep it to yourself for now, letting your body rest while still supporting Eddie’s head. Tomorrow is a new day, with a new life brought into the world. Love—if that’s even what this is—will have to wait until then.

The soft pink of breaking daylight streams through the windows when Jeff wakes Eddie up six hours later, shaking him by the shoulders.

“What the fuck?” Eddie grumbles, wiping the sleep from his eyes. When he registers where he is and the potential urgency of the situation, he sits up straight, head filling with fuzziness from the sudden movement. He wouldn’t call the evening restful, but he’d managed to doze off for longer than he’d expected.

“It’s a girl!” Jeff announces, beaming from ear to ear. He’s bouncing on the balls of his feet, bursting with enthusiasm and emotion.

As soon as Eddie’s vision clears, he’s on his feet and pulling his best friend in for a giant hug. When he steps back, he realizes that he and Jeff sport matching misty eyes. “Dude, you’re officially a dad now. You have a daughter!”

“I have a daughter,” Jeff repeats incredulously. His eyes cloud with tears, and he blinks them away as he peers over at the empty seat next to Eddie. “Did your lady go home?”

Eddie swivels around, so caught up in the moment that he hadn’t realized he was alone. She left. She left without me; she didn’t want to stick around and deal with–

“Did Viv have the baby?” Your excited voice penetrates through his intrusive thoughts as you stroll in from the hallway. The makeup around your eyes is smudged; you’d tried to wipe some of it off in the bathroom, but water and thin hospital paper towels are no substitute for makeup wipes. “Sorry, I had to pee.”

Eddie smiles at the sight of you, still wearing his jacket. He hopes his sigh of relief is concealed by Jeff’s exuberance. “A girl. Six pounds, ten ounces.” He shoves his hands in his pockets. “Wanna meet her?”

“Of course!” You and Eddie begin following him down the corridor. “Wait, is Viv feeling up to having visitors?” You’re mildly ashamed to admit that, in your eagerness, you’d forgotten about the baby being breech and the possible c-section.

Jeff nods. “I think my daughter’s gonna be a gymnast, ‘cause she’d flipped herself back around between the appointment and last night.”

There’s no masking Jeff’s pride when he says my daughter, and it makes Eddie want to hug him again. “That’s amazing,” he murmurs. There’s a small pang in his heart, a bead of resentment that Harris’s birth didn’t go so smoothly, but it’s unimportant right now. His best friend just became a father, and he refuses to let his own hang-ups take away from this moment.

“Hi,” you whisper when Jeff opens the door to room 1007. Viv is propped up against pillows, exhausted but happier than she’s ever been before. Your gaze is immediately drawn to the hours-old bundle in her arms. “How are you?”

“Sore,” she replies truthfully, brushing her forefinger against her baby’s closed fist, “but the epidural was a lifesaver.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you tease, unaware that your words have Eddie’s heart skipping a beat at the idea of you bearing a little Munson. “Is it okay if I hold her?” You don’t want to intrude on the new mother’s bonding time, but your insides turn to mush when the baby opens her tiny lips and yawns.

Viv carefully places the newborn in your arms, and you gingerly adjust to support her head. Eddie swears that you holding a baby, in that dress, wearing his jacket, is the prettiest thing he’s ever seen. “Did Jeff tell you her name?” Viv asks, stifling a yawn. When you and Eddie both shake your heads, she smiles and glances at her partner.

He clears his throat, suddenly bashful. Eddie forces himself to tear his gaze from the way you smile and coo at the baby and look over at Jeff. “Her name is Nicolette,” he starts, “but that’s a big name for a little girl, so we figured we can call her Ettie, and she’ll kinda…share a nickname with you.”

Eddie’s eyes go wide, convinced he heard incorrectly. “You…I’m her namesake?”

“Mhm,” Jeff confirms, the grin never leaving his face. What neither you nor Eddie know is that they had had a different name picked out, and had fully intended on using it until the first time Jeff held their daughter. It filled him with a feeling of wholeness, of being complete, and it strangely had him thinking of his best friend. Without Eddie taking him under his wing, he might not even be here to experience this.

It was only by chance that he had stumbled upon Hellfire Club during his freshman year. He was running from Billy Hargrove and his posse, who were determined to beat the hell out of him simply because they could, and had ducked into the drama room to protect himself. Eddie had taken one look at his face and immediately recognized the expression of fear and defeat from being incessantly bullied. “You know how to play Dungeons & Dragons?” he’d asked, and when Jeff had managed a nod, he’d pulled up a chair and motioned for him to sit down.

Being Eddie’s friend, being part of something, gave him a reason to keep going. To live. And in that instant, he vowed to teach his child to extend kindness toward any misfits who need a place to be themselves.

“What about Nicolette?” he’d asked Viv. “Ettie for short.”

You turn to Eddie now, continuing the steady rocking rhythm that keeps Baby Ettie calm. “What do you say, Mr. Namesake? Wanna hold her?”

There’s a brief flash of panic that floods through his veins; he hasn’t held a newborn since Harris. He’d always worried about dropping him or tripping and falling. Truth be told, he was terrified until his son could hold his own head up.

It’s similar, but not the same, he reminds himself, shuffling even closer to you so you can safely transition Ettie into his arms. She stirs slightly in her swaddle but doesn’t cry.

“Hey, little lady,” he says, a delicate smile dancing on his lips. “I’m your Uncle Eddie. The coolest uncle you’ll ever have, for the record.”

“Harris is gonna love her,” you add, heart swelling at the imagery of him cuddling up to his newest cousin.

“Babe?” Viv pipes up from the bed. “Can you grab me something to eat? ‘M starving.”

“Yeah, of course.” Jeff turns to Eddie. “Come with me? I think Viv needs to feed Ettie, anyway.”

Viv extends her arms and Eddie begrudgingly hands the baby to her. Ettie’s so adorable and small, and it makes him yearn for the days when Harris was that little. Maybe not the sleepless nights or the lack of head control, but the scent of baby powder, the toothless smiles, the way he would fall asleep in Eddie’s arms to whatever song happened to be on the radio. Harris Munson might have been the only infant to be soothed by Twisted Sister.

The two men make their way to the hospital cafeteria, sneakers squeaking along the freshly-waxed linoleum tiles.

“I, um, I’m really proud of the way you stepped up for Viv,” Eddie says, eyes trained on the floor. “You’re a great partner. I feel like I should be taking notes.”

Jeff laughs, shaking his head. “That's where my expertise ends. I have no idea how this whole fatherhood thing works.”

“Wanna hear a secret?” Eddie leans in, shifting his weight onto one foot. He doesn’t wait for his friend’s response to divulge, “none of us do. We’re just…” he waves his hand aimlessly, “…figuring it out as we go.” And making plenty of mistakes along the way, he silently adds.

“I don’t know how you did this alone,” Jeff puffs out an incredulous breath. “I mean, I know you had Wayne’s help…” he trails off, not needing to further elaborate on the missing parent.

“Yeah, me either, man. I’m just glad I’m not alone anymore.”

Jeff stops walking, turning to face him. There’s the unmistakable look of pride that manages to make itself prominent despite his evident exhaustion as he says, “You really want this with her, don’t you?”

“Yeah, man,” Eddie chuckles. “It’s like, for the first time, I’m not just thinking about just me or just Harris. I’m thinking about us as a family.” The dinnertime conversations, the gentle ribbings, the tenderness that seamlessly weaves itself into vulnerable conversations.

“She’s good for you,” Jeff agrees. “And you love her.”

“I mean, I—”

“That was a statement, not a question. You love her.”

And in a single breath, Eddie lets go of the fear he’s been clutching to like a life preserver. The one thing he hasn’t allowed himself to say aloud because it makes it so real, so fucking real.

“I love her.”

@kelsiegrin @lma1986 @munsonology @stuckontheceiling @avobabe87 @eddapwinchester @peachysink @browneyes8288 @jeremyspoke-inclasstoday

@breezybeesposts @wednesdaymunson @feltonswifesworld87 @take-everything-you-can @bebe07011 @81rain @dylanmunson @oscarisaacwhore @eddiesguitarskills @everheart12 @etherealglimmer @hollster88 @wh0re4life @siriuslysmoking

@bibieddiesgf @winchester-angel @starlitlakes @avalon-wolf @hazydespair @josephquinncore @daydreaminglisa @sidthedollface2 @eddiebaemunson @mandyjo8719 @daydreaming-mood @aol19 @corkadymu @starcourtnights

@rockstarmunsons @metalhead-succubus @boinkybarness @oohworldofpisces @costellation-hunter @toobsessedsstuff @meadow20 @lost-in-the-stars03 @aysheashea @josephquinnsfreckles @eddiemunsonslittlemetalhead

@chamomileh0ney @dream-a-little-nightmare @emma77645 @kurdtbean @sheneedsrocknroll92 @tlclick73 @lolly-in-a-strange-land @bakugouswh0r3

@strangerthingsstories5255 @adaydreamaway08 @itsalltaken @harmfulb1tch @mimischaos @averagemisfit03 @steddiegarbage @vigilanteshit @ellendemeyer152 @sierrahhh @hiscrimsonangel @mrsjellymunson @idkatee

@quentinswife @eddiesguitarskills @momowhoo @jasminelafleur @mmunson86 @mcueveryday @augustsgetawaycar @let-love-bleeds-red @inesven @tanyaherondale @theintimatewriter

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

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jamesmydeer · 5 months

Note

Hcs for James obsessing and babying the reader when she gets the littlest of cuts and bruises? Like he freaks out if he maybe accidentally shuts the door on her finger? Or when she bangs her foot on something?

this has been in my drafts since i was 17. i am now 21. are these even still popular y’all please give me reassurance. i missed it here sm

masterlist

- oh my this sweet boy

- he would constantly baby you

- but when you’re hurt? 10x more so

- and if HE was the one that hurt you? he treats you like an actual breakable object

- let’s say you’re reading in the common room one night before james is back from detention

- and he comes in and you’re so entranced in your book that you don’t even notice him

- he was expecting hugs and kisses when he came in

- so of course his ego gets bruised

- and it’s the stupid books fault

- so he grabs your book

- which gets your attention

- and that’s all he ever wants

- of course he’s not going to give you your book back if it makes you pay attention to him (duh)

- he holds it above his head, switches hands, pretends like he threw it, the whole nine yards

- you get a little too close to stealing it back, so he takes off upstairs

- and you take off after him

- but he doesn’t realize how close you are

- in order to buy him some time, he slams the door behind him

- right onto your finger

- you let out the loudest yelp

- because that shit hurted

- and it is easily the saddest thing james has ever heard

- he freezes at first

- he turns around so slowly

- because he still has hopes it wasn’t your voice

- but when he sees you clutching your hand with tears streaming down your face, he’s by your side in .2 seconds

- he hugs you so carefully it would be funny if this 6’ jock hadn’t just slammed your finger in a door

- repeats over and over again how sorry he is and how it was an accident

- forehead kiss after forehead kiss

- picks you up and carries you to the bed

- sets you down on his lap and pulls you close

- with the softest voice he can muster, he ask you “can i see it”

- he looks at it, and if your finger wasn’t throbbing in pain you would think he was the injured one

- he looks so sad

- he brings your hand to his lips and places gentle kisses on your finger

- it stops hurting after a few minutes, but james isn’t having it

- quidditch has him pretty used to getting his finger jammed, so he’s confident in playing doctor

- he carries you around as if you need your finger to walk

- refuses to let you pick anything up

- insists on getting you an ice pack that you do not need

- it melts on his bed and makes for a nice surprise when he lays down that night

- your pain goes away after like 10 minutes—james is sulking for the next 3 business days

- anytime someone asks why your finger is bruised he physically deflates

- because he did it :(

- and he feels so guilty when you just tell them you slammed it in a door

- because he did it :(((( how could he hurt you???

- he needs more comfort than you do honestly

- hold this sweet boy and tell him it’s okay

- and maybe watch your fingers around him

#jamesmydeer #james potter hc #james potter imagines #james potter x reader #harry potter hc #harry potter imagine #james potter

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her-satanic-wiles · 6 months

Text

October 17th

Threesome or Moresome, Papa Emeritus III & Ghouls x Reader

Masterlist

Words: 5.4k

Warnings: Gang bang; public gang bang; predator prey; role play; game; fear play; fingering; tag-teaming; exhibitionism; fellatio; minor degradation; cunnilingus; hand jobs; mild cucking; piv sex; vaginal sex; unprotected sex; bukkake; anal sex; spit as lube; objectification; titfucking; pussy slapping; face fucking; double penetration; spanking; praise kink; creampie; recommended listening: RUNRUNRUN by Dutch Melrose.

Taglist: @sodoswitchimage @enchantedbunny @bitchywitchygardener @thew0man @sodomiser @the-did-i-ask @copias-sewer-rat @gehrmansbignaturals @deetz-ghuleh

🔞 MDNI 🔞

As this is dark fiction, I'm choosing to rate it 21+. Please respect my rating. Thank you.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the dense forest, your heart pounded in your chest like a war drum. The cold sweat on your brow mingled with the dirt and leaves that clung to your skin as you darted between towering trees, their branches clawing at your clothes. Behind you, a group of relentless men pursued, their heavy footsteps and urgent shouts echoing through the darkening woods. Each step you took, each breath you drew, was a desperate attempt to outpace the ominous figures closing in on you, their motives unknown and their intentions menacing. The ominous symphony of rustling leaves and the pounding of your own feet merged into a haunting cacophony, as the chilling realization set in that there was no escape from this relentless pursuit.

Moonlight filtered through the thick canopy above, casting eerie, fragmented patterns on the forest floor, which you navigated with all the stealth and agility you could muster. Your breaths came in ragged gasps, and the adrenaline coursing through your veins seemed to blur the boundary between exhaustion and determination. The harsh, urgent voices of your pursuers grew closer, their presence an ever-encroaching nightmare. Your mind raced, desperately searching for a way to shake them off, to find refuge in the vast labyrinth of the woods. Every twist and turn, every broken twig beneath your feet, betrayed your position to those relentless hunters. You needed a plan, a moment’s respite, anything to gain the upper hand in this deadly game of chase.

In the midst of this heart-pounding pursuit, your eyes darted frantically, scanning the surroundings for a glimmer of hope. That’s when you spotted it—a massive fallen log, its rotting underbelly a sanctuary from the prying eyes of your relentless pursuers. With your breath held, you sprinted toward the log, the thundering footsteps of the men growing ever closer. As you reached it, you slid beneath the decaying wood, your body trembling with fear and exhaustion. The earthy scent of damp soil and decay enveloped you, and you pressed your hands to your mouth to stifle any sound. Your heart thundered in your chest as you watched the shadows of the men draw near, their voices now mere whispers in the distance. Time stood still beneath that log, as you clung to the hope that your concealment would be enough to thwart their relentless hunt.

As you lay hidden beneath the fallen log, the darkness around you seemed to stretch into eternity, and every rustle of leaves or snapping twig sent a jolt of terror through your body. It was as if the world had come to a standstill, and the only thing that mattered was remaining unnoticed.

Then, the dreadful moment arrived. A twig cracked nearby, much too close for comfort, and your heart leaped into your throat. You strained to keep your breathing silent and shallow, your eyes locked on the opening where you had crawled in. A pair of boots appeared in your line of sight, inches away from the log. A cold sweat broke out on your forehead as the boots hesitated for a moment, and then a masked face came into view, peering beneath the log.

Your eyes met, his gaze piercing through the shadows, and in that dreadful instant, the world seemed to freeze. His eyes widened in realization, and before you could react, his hand shot out, grasping for your ankle. Panic surged through you, and you yanked your leg away with all the strength you could muster, scrambling to retreat deeper beneath the log, your heart pounding louder than ever.

“Papa! I found her!” He yelled, his voice giving him away. Omega. He reached forward to grasp at your ankle and in desperation you kicked at him. But this gave him the right opportunity to clutch onto you.

Despite your desperate attempts to pull away, Omega’s grip tightened like a vice around your ankle. Adrenaline surged through you as he yanked you out from your hiding place with a sudden, brutal force. You cried out in pain and shock as you tumbled onto the forest floor, your limbs tangled and your heart racing.

Surrounding you were the remainder of Terzo’s Ghouls who had pursued you, their faces hidden behind their masks, but their eyes gleaming with a mixture of triumph and menace. You had been outmaneuvered, cornered like prey in a deadly game. As you gasped for breath, Omega loomed over you, his expression devoid of mercy. In that harrowing moment, the realization washed over you that escape was no longer an option, and you had been ensnared in their sinister clutches.

With a strength you couldn’t hope to match, Omega swiftly moved to restrain you. He pinned you to the forest floor, his knee pressed firmly against your chest, making it nearly impossible to breathe. His rough hands immobilized your arms, binding them tightly behind your back with a set of cold, unforgiving cuffs. Panic and desperation surged through you, but resistance was futile.

You struggled against his grip, gasping for air and pleading for mercy, but his eyes remained impassive, a look of determination. His comrades formed a menacing circle around you, their eyes filled with a mixture of triumph and malice. In that heart-wrenching moment, the realization of your vulnerability and the sinister intent of these men weighed upon you like an inescapable nightmare, casting a shadow over the once serene forest that had become the backdrop to this chilling ordeal.

As you lay there, pinned to the forest floor by the man who had captured you, the tense silence was shattered by the arrival of another figure, the apparent leader of this sinister group, Papa Emeritus III. He stepped forward from the shadows, his face concealed by a twisted grin that sent shivers down your spine. His voice carried an eerie authority as he addressed his comrades, “Well done, gentlemen. It seems our little game has come to a fruitful end.” He looked at Omega and widened his eyes a little. “Perhaps you should let her breathe, no? We wouldn’t want the game to meet a tragic finish.”

Omega relaxed his grip significantly, allowing you to take shallow breaths as the leader continued to survey the scene, seemingly only just realising how into the game he’d been. His dark, calculating eyes locked onto yours, and he chuckled, a cold, mirthless sound that filled you with dread. “You’ve been quite the elusive prey, haven’t you?” He said, his tone oozing with satisfaction. “But now, tesoro, you’re in our hands, and you will do exactly as we say.”

Your heart sank as the gravity of your situation became painfully clear. You had fallen into the clutches of a malevolent force, and Terzo’s sinister pleasure at your capture left no doubt that the ordeal had only just begun.

Terzo’s sinister grin turned into a shit-eating one, the kind of smug look you want to slap off his face. “You see, tesoro,” he taunted, “you’ve lost the bet. Alpha!”

“Yes, Papa?” Alpha said,stepping forward at his master’s acknowledgment.

“What exactly was it that she wagered?”

Alpha’s eyes from behind his mask crinkled as though he were smiling. “She bet that she could outrun us and we couldn’t catch her. If she won, we would have to help her redecorate her room. But if we won… well, you give the orders, Papa.”

“Of course, thank you, my friend. you said if we catch her we fuck her, yes?”

“Yes, Papa!” The Ghouls said. Some chuckled quietly to themselves.

Your mind reeled as you tried to process this revelation. It had all been a silly game, a twisted challenge that you had accepted without fully understanding the stakes, or rather, in your hubris believing that you could outrun six men whose livelihoods revolved around fitness. The gravity of your predicament now became even more surreal; you had unwittingly placed your safety on the line, and your defeat meant you were at their mercy.

The other men exchanged knowing glances, their expressions shifting from triumph to amusement. They had not only captured you but had also won the twisted game they had orchestrated. The forest, once a place of serenity and refuge, had become the backdrop for your ill-fated bet, and the consequences were far more dire than you could have ever imagined.

“Of course, tesoro, if you don’t want to continue then by all means speak now. We will let this go with only minor public humiliation.” He crouched down so he was closer to your head which was still on the ground. “But if you wish to continue, you should realise that every person here will be inside you at some point tonight, sì?”

Terzo was giving you an out and there was that small, very intimidated voice inside of you telling you to take it. Six men. You were surrounded by six men. All of which were a varying degree of horny, and were prepared to fuck the life out of you in the middle of the Ministry’s forest. But there was a crazy part of you that just so happened to be winning your internal struggle that wanted you to go on with your bargain. You lost, fair was fair, and the thought of the very same men who had hunted you down like an animal taking turns on you was enough for your entire body to light up in anticipation.

“What say you, tesoro?” Terzo prompted.

You were silent for a moment. “I lost… time to face the consequences.”

Terzo’s face lit up with excitement even though he tried to keep his cool about it. He raised his hands and stood up, taking a few steps back. “Omega caught her, I think it’s only fair he should be the first to have a turn.”

“Thank you, Papa.” Omega responded. He flipped you onto your back and knelt down in between your legs drinking in the sight of your body. Omega was a big lad, nice and chunky - a little smaller than the average rugby player. Your habit, in your struggle, had rose up and allowed him a glimpse of your thighs and panties which had all the Ghouls groaning when they saw you. As one of Terzo’s favourite Siblings, you tended to be off-limits to most members of the Clergy - though it was more of an unspoken rule than an actual enforced law. But the Ghouls were certainly never allowed to touch you in a sexual manner. But they wanted to. Oh, did they really want to.

Omega ran his hands up and down your exposed thighs, feeling the way your body moved at his touch and appreciating this once in a lifetime opportunity. But with four of his brothers and his Papa watching, he knew he wouldn’t be able to savour this moment for much longer. And thus, he began to undress you - maneuvering you into whatever position he needed to in order to completely rid you of your clothes, shoes and all. He hooked his hands underneath your panties and pulled them down - the final item of clothing now removed and leaving you as naked as the day you were born in the middle of the forest.

He used his spit to lube up his fingers and set to work on your core, gently rubbing this thumb over your clit to get you relaxed enough to take his other fingers. At this point you were only letting out little whimpers of pleasure given that his fingers felt good, but they weren’t really hitting the spot just yet. This was the warm-up, not the sprint portion of the night, and you could tell that he was trying to take care of you. That was until he deemed you wet enough to take his middle finger inside of you.

“Tap up, Omega.” You heard Terzo say from somewhere in the distance. “It drives her crazy when you do.”

Omega nodded and obeyed, and immediately you released a loud moan that seemed to echo through the trees. You didn’t know how far away it reached, but you hoped it wasn’t loud enough for passers by to come looking and discover the scene. It didn’t take long of Omega stretching your cunt out before he was able to add another finger and increase the pleasure you were feeling. Your hands immediately flew to your breasts, your own fingers working at your sensitive nipples as your hips bucked to take more of the pleasure Omega was giving you. You looked over at the other Ghouls, each one also at various stages of arousal. Gale and Moss were rubbing their hard cocks through their pants, their eyes trained on your body and the way it was moving at both your hands and Omega’s. Alpha and Stream had, by this point, pulled their dicks out entirely and were brazenly stroking themselves at the sight of you. You looked at Terzo who was leaning up against the log you had been pulled out from underneath, his arms folded and his cock hard in his pants but completely untouched. His mismatched eyes were dark with lust and also focussed entirely on the scene in front of him. Terzo was the only one out of all of them here who knew your body like the back of his hand. He should after all the time he’d spent buried deep inside you.

“Alpha,” Terzo’s voice sounded, “she needs something in her mouth. Feed her your cock.”

Alpha, “Yes, Papa.”

Omega’s twin bounded over and knelt at your head, his hard cock now fully in your face. He was long and thin - he wasn’t going to make your jaw ache but he was going to make you gag on him. A little bigger than average. You lifted your head up and started working on his length, focussing on his sensitive and uncut head first before even attempting to battle the rest of him. There was also something so degradingly hot about everyone talking about you as though you weren’t there. How all of the questions about you and your body were directed to Papa rather than you, simply because you, like the Ghouls, belonged to Terzo and thus, he had spent more time with you than anyone else.

It was as you were beginning to suck on Alpha’s balls you heard the zipper come down on Omega’s trousers. He spat once onto his cock and rubbed it around before placing himself at your entrance. “Are you ready, Sister?”

You nodded.

Omega was a little smaller than his brother, and you were actually quite grateful for it. Omega was perfectly average sized, just right for the first cock of the night that’s for sure. You thought he was going to just dive right into you, but in reality, he merely didn’t want to exhaust you too soon. He began slowly, easing himself in and out at a speed that was almost teasing, as if he were trying to drive you crazy. Though, when he picked up the pace, the sound of his skin slapping against yours practically drowned out the sound of the other four groaning at the sight of you getting fucked on the forest floor. Omega couldn’t help himself once he noticed how incredible you felt. The rest of the Ghouls had all shifted somewhat closer to each you for a better look, but you hadn’t noticed to begin with.

“How does she feel, boys?” Terzo asked.

“She’s got such a tight pussy, Papa.” Omega commented.

“Her throat opens up so well for me.” Alpha added, punctuating his sentence with a loud groan. “I can’t wait anymore.” You overheard Alpha utter. “Open up, Sister. I can no longer handle this.”

While Omega pushed his cock deeper into your cunt with his aggressive pace, Alpha slipped his length into your mouth. When Omega fucked into you very hard and laughed at the squeak you let out, which was then followed by a moan. Alpha felt it; your moan made him feel it vibrate around him. “There she is.” His hand tangled in your exposed hair as he pushed himself deeper into your throat.

“She fucking loves this, doesn’t she?” Omega commented.

“Of course she does,” said Terzo. “She can be a bit of a whore when she wants to be.”

When you squeezed Omega, he let out an especially loud moan from between your legs. “Fucking hell, Sister. You feel so good.” He continued thrusting, his pace picking up a lot more. This time there was less control and precision. “She’s gonna make me cum. I’m so close.”

Terzo looked at you and moved a little closer so he could watch. “You want his cum, tesoro?”

You moaned around Alpha in affirmation.

“Omega, pull out and cum somewhere else.”

“But-”

“Only I get to cum inside her.”

After one particularly harsh thrust, Omega pulled himself out of you and came on your pubic mound, his timing not good enough to hit anywhere else. You felt the drips of his seed pour onto your skin as he kept rubbing the head of his cock, trying to brand you as much as he could before the next Ghoul came to play.

Given that his cock was already out, Stream was the next one. But instead of going straight for your cunt, he straddled your stomach. “Someone else can come and take this pussy,” he said reaching behind him and giving it a smack, “I want these beauties.”

Terzo gestured to another one of the Ghouls, “Moss, get your ass over here.”

“Yes, Papa.”

Moss was the calmest of all of Terzo’s Ghouls, and usually the most respectful. Which absolutely played out that night. He knelt down in between your legs and again lubed his finger with his spit. “Papa, may I make her cum?” So fucking polite.

Terzo chuckled a little. “Of course.” He replied, tapping Moss’ shoulder.

Moss immediately got to work, using two of his hands to finger you. His left thumb played with your clit as three of his fingers worked your g-spot and refused to let up their pace.

Alpha was now pushing his cock further into your throat, being a little rougher with his thrusts. Terzo’s white gloved hand came to yours and gave it a little squeeze, his eyes looking at you quizzically as if to ask if it was too much. It wasn’t. The idea of all these men using you for their own pleasure should have made you sick at the thought, but the objectification you were feeling only added to your arousal. And so, Alpha just taking what he wanted had you clenching around Moss’ fingers.

Stream, at this point, had pushed your breasts together and started thrusting between them, occasionally spitting in the valley between them to lube your skin up and make the slide more comfortable for him. His thrusts were a lot rougher than Omega’s, and you knew most of that was down to the fact he had been playing with himself as you were being used by the first two Ghouls. “How’s that mouth feeling, Alpha?” Stream asked, watching his cock as it was engulfed in your tits.

“Fucking sinful. She takes it so good. It was like she was made for it.”

“Papa’s gonna kill me for saying this, but I been thinking about these tits for so fucking long. Always wanted to do this.”

Moss, “She just tightened around my fingers.”

Stream, “No shit? I guess she likes hearing about what a tempting Jezebel she is, hm?”

You moaned which earned a similar one from Alpha. “Oh yes she fucking does, listen to those whines. Fuck, I’m gonna cum.”

“Pull out!” Papa instructed.

Like Omega, Alpha didn’t pull out as fast as he would have liked. So instead of his cum landing at a more comfortable place on your body, it ended up spilling all over your face, but primarily on your lips, effectively sealing them shut. If you were to open them, Alpha’s cum would just start pouring in. Papa hit the back of his head and gestured vaguely to your face, basically telling him to move his shit before it causes a problem. And so, instead of using his hands, Alpha rubbed his softening and sensitive cock to smear himself around your face and away from your mouth and nose. This meant a lot of it slipped down your cheeks and into your hair, already matted with leaves and soil from the forest floor.

As soon as Alpha walked away, your mouth opened and let out the loudest whine. Hips bucking and a knot tightening in your stomach, you only managed to let out a, “Oh fuck!” before you were cumming around Moss’ fingers. Your hips bucked more violently at the orgasm that was ripping through you, and when you made eye contact with Moss, you saw his eyes light up. He did that. He made you cum. Omega didn’t bother he only stretched you out to make it hurt less, neither did Alpha or Stream even make an attempt for you. That was all Moss’ work. And if you could see his face, you were sure he looked like the cat that got the cream.

The sight of your cum-covered face contorting into an orgasm forced Stream to tip over the edge afterward, his cum now shooting out over your neck and spilling off your skin and into your hair, joining Alpha’s. “Fucking hell!” Stream moaned as his thrusts got weaker and weaker until they stopped altogether. He climbed off you and tucked himself back into his jeans, giving Omega a high five when he’d joined the twins watching the scene play out without them.

“Are you okay, tesoro? Do you want to stop?” Terzo asked, on his knees next to you and holding your hand.

“‘m fine, Papa. It feels so good.” Your voice was very husky and strained as you spoke, Alpha’s cock having done a number on you when he used your throat.

Terzo kissed your hand. “Use the safe word when you need to, amore mio. I’ll kill them if I have to.”

You laughed at his protectiveness but knew it wouldn’t be necessary. The intimate moment you were sharing with your lover was broken by the timid voice of Gale coming over to take his turn. “Papa… may I take her ass? I don’t want to hurt her throat any more than it already is.” His posture was nervous - not because he was typically afraid of Terzo, just because he was a naturally nervous guy. Never wanted to burden or kick up a fuss.

Terzo looked at you, and at your slight nod he gave Gale and Moss permission to do what they needed to as long as they were gentle. Moss lay on his back beside you and beckoned you to straddle him to grant Gale easy access to your ass. Moss took this opportunity to play with your clit once more, circling and swirling his fingers around you to distract you from Gale’s fingers prodding at your second hole. He also used his spit as lube, but made sure he was really taking his time with you because he knew just how painful it would be if he didn’t.

Your second orgasm hit you when Moss’ fingers were moving quickly in tight circles around your clit and Gale was three fingers deep in your ass. The sensation wasn’t one you were used to, as you and Terzo never really did anal that much. But being so full in one hole and empty in the other felt oddly pleasant.

When you were ready, Moss lined his cock up with your entrance and pushed at your hips, sinking you down onto him and taking him completely. Moss was thick - really thick - but a little too short to hit that sweet spot at the back of your pussy. The drag of him against your walls was exquisite though, and every time he bounced you off his hips you could feel him gently brush against your heavily abused g-spot.

Gale entered you next, his cock moving much slower than Moss’ did just to make sure that you were comfortable. Gale, much like the twins, was average sized - or rather, just right. Not so big he hurt you, but not so small you couldn’t feel him. And the added thickness of Moss meant that every part of you was stimulated wonderfully.

The two Ghouls set a pretty even pace to begin with ensuring that you were always full with at least one of them. Every time Moss pulled out, Gale pushed in and vice versa. Eventually,

“Oh, Azmodeus!” You heard Gale grunt from behind you after a particularly sharp thrust. “Sister, your ass hole feels so tight!”

Moss, “Her cunt, too. I won’t last much longer if she keeps squeezing like this!”

“Spank her.” You heard Terzo say from above you.

You felt Gale’s hand come down on you harshly, making you tense and clench around Moss’ cock. “Fuck!”

“She gets tighter, doesn’t she?”

“So much!” He shuddered at the sensation.

Gale, laughing, did it again, this time harder. You clenched again and watched Moss fall apart beneath you. Gale took your ass, while Moss played with your cunt, once again touching your clit and as they felt you tighten, they refused go gentle with you. You found yourself screaming the more merciless they became. That rhythm they built before got faster, and so much rougher, causing your cries to amplify and echo between each of the trees. It felt so incredible to be fucked like that. Two cocks at the same time, rubbing against each other while they were inside you and hitting every single spot so good. You loved the feeling of it.

Terzo’s eyes were blown out to the point where he looked completely crazy. He crouched down to the side of you, at first watching your holes get obliterated by his two Ghouls, but then to the look of pleasure on your face. You reached out to him, your hand holding onto the base of his neck and top of his shoulder as you were railed, your eyes flicking between his eyes and his lips. He got the hint, and leaned forward crashing his lips to yours and giving you the intimacy that you were clearly desperate for. His tongue entered your mouth, and his hand ran all over the parts of your body that he could reach. When he pulled away, he spoke. “Tell me, tesoro, how does it feel?”

“So good, Papa! I - sh-shit - I feel like I’m about to burst.” The moans you were making were absolutely pornographic, but they were real noises being ripped from you. It drove Terzo absolutely insane to hear. A small part of him loved watching his Ghouls use you for their pleasure, he loved hearing what they were doing and he loved that you were feeling so good because of it. He loved that he was also the one calling the shots, ordering them to do things but saving parts of yourself for him.

“You like it when other men fuck you, hm?”

“I do! B-but Papa’s cock is the best!”

“That’s my good girl. Will you cum for us, tesoro?”

“Yes, Papa!”

Moss’ fingers, for the third time that night, tipped you over the edge. Your holes had the both of them trapped in a vice grip as you collapsed onto Moss’ clothed chest. Once you let them both go, they pulled out of you and lay you back on your back, knelt over you, and jerked themselves off until their cum added to the rest of the dried stains on your body. both men moved away to allow Terzo space to get down to your level. He lifted your chin up and made you look at him. You were so fucked out, Terzo didn’t know whether to feel sorry for you or fuck you until you passed out.

He whispered, “Can you take any more, tesoro?”

You nodded.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, Papa.”

He kissed you hard, positioning himself between your legs and taking his cock out of his trousers without breaking the kiss. Eventually, he lined himself up and entered you, his body draping over yours and keeping your faces as close as possible. Terzo was not only blessed by Satan in his name, but also in his anatomy. Terzo sported as much thickness as was proportionate, and always stretched you to your limits as though he were made for you. He would always hit the right spots inside you, and have you seeing stars every time you came on his cock. He continued to kiss you, dote on you, a gloved hand moving down to play with your clit as he snapped his hips, those fucking hips that knew how to love you right. He slammed himself into you, over and over again, trying to be gentle at first but the images of his Ghouls taking turns on you turning him into a horny and feral monster.

“Is this enough for you, slut?” He asked. “Having the sixth cock inside you. You sated enough?”

“Yes.”

“Yes what?”

“Yes, Papa!”

“Look at you. You’re an absolute fucking mess. You’re filthy. I like my whores filthy, though.”

“Oh fuck!” You exclaimed. Your voice was hoarse from screaming all night. You couldn’t keep it in. Even when you had cocks in your mouth you couldn’t stop the noise from coming out. “Feels so good!”

“How are you still so tight after taking all those cocks? Fucking hell, ___. You’re gonna make me cum so hard. You’re such a good fucking girl.”

Terzo wasn’t a stranger to praising you in bed. Though he enjoyed degrading you, he also knew when it was too much. And right now you had been a good girl for him, for all of them, and you deserved the praise. You felt so good around him. He loved your cunt so much. It’s why you were his favourite, you aligned so perfectly in taste and sensation. He loved wrecking you until you were nothing but a shell of what you were when you entered his room, and you loved being the victim of his frustrations and desires. And even though he was fucking in front of his subordinates, this was still the best sex he’d ever had with you. He was moaning and grunting louder than he ever had before, whispering sweet nothings in your ear in both Italian and English, and his fingers expertly working you, making sure you came before he did.

“Oh God, amore mio. I’m gonna cum. I’m gonna fucking cum. Shit. Oh fuck!”

Terzo was sure he’d never cum that hard and that much in his life. So much of it spilled out onto the floor when he’d finally pulled out of you. Terzo was breathless, but he was nowhere near as exhausted as you.

You stayed there, weak and unable to move, you could barely keep your eyes open. All you could think about was how amazing that felt. But Terzo would be damned if he let you pass out, butt naked on the cold, dirty floor of the Ministry’s forest.

You don’t remember how you wound up in Terzo’s bed - you don’t even remember it being the next morning. But there you were, swaddled in his deep red, velvet sheets with his hairy and naked arm draped over you. There was not a part of your body that wasn’t sore - and also thoroughly cleaned. The cum and the majority of the dirt had been cleaned off you, no doubt Terzo did that when he’d got his Ghouls to bring you inside - or at least, you assumed as much. If you were awake for any of it, none of it was coming to mind.

Waking up next to Terzo was always an intimate affair. He loved waking up to your kisses all over his face, but this morning he was awake before you, giving you a lazy and sleepy smile. “How are you feeling now, tesoro?”

“Sore, but I’ll survive.”

He placed a kiss to your temple. “You need to rest, little one. Come, snuggle into me as you like to do. Sleep some more.”

“Anything you say, Papa.”

Previous Day ⛧ Next Day

481 notes · View notes

dearly-somber · 6 months

Text

Yours | j.jk

-> pairing. wolf shifter!Jungkook x human!reader (f)

-> genre. pining, fluff, unrequited love, f2l (friends-to-lovers)

-> w/c. 1867

-> rating. 13+

-> a/n. This couple 💔💔

-> warnings. N/A

-> collection. mini-series

-> started. Wed., Jun. 30th, 2022 @ 18:19

-> fin. Tues., Jul. 27th, 2022 @ 21:37

-> edited. Tues., Jan. 7th, 2023 @ 12:45

-> divider credit. @mmadeinheavenn

You watch in awe as Jungkook and his pack interact with one another in their wolf forms, itching to take pictures, but knowing they wouldn’t appreciate it.

It’s the first time you’ve seen Jungkook’s wolf, and you find yourself rather intimidated. He’s twice the size you’d expect him to be, and although he acts like an oversized puppy, his sharp teeth and large paws remind you of god true nature.

Jungkook whines and nips at his hyungs while the girls lounge off to the side, watching you take everything in with curious eyes. The youngest of the shifters gives who you think is Hoseok one last nibble to his ear before excitedly padding in your direction, tail wagging behind him.

Your heartbeat races as he stalks towards you, your mind emptying itself of all coherent thought. You open your mouth to ask something, but get interrupted by a wet, gross wolf-tongue being thrust down your throat.

It takes you a second to realize that Jungkook is in fact licking the inside of your mouth, and the moment you have the braincells to do something about it you yell in protest, roughly pushing him away by his chest. He takes a second to react to your pushing and jumps away the second he realizes he’s doing something wrong, a high-pitched whine leaving his throat. You wipe your mouth with your sleeve with a horrified frown, resisting the urge to gag. Jungkook whines loudly at your side, tail hovering between his legs as the other shifters look curiously in your direction, wondering what all the commotion is about.

Jungkook nuzzles his nose into your the crook of your elbow and then just below your rib cage, stepping onto your thigh in his attempt to get closer to your face so he can apologetically nuzzle your jaw. You push his face away in a panic, mortified that his tongue was in your mouth.

Jungkook whines louder, his ears pinned to the back of his head. You try not to scrape your tongue off with your nails, looking at Jungkook pace up and down with his worried eyes trained on you. You feel kind of bad, despite feeling like the victim in this situation, so you muster a small, slightly panicked smile. “Sorry, Kookie, it’s just that” —you exhale shakily— “you can’t just lick into my mouth, Koo. That’s just…”

He bows his head shamefully, his tail wrapping around his paws. You want to scream at him for looking so fucking sad, your stupid human brain only seeing an overgrown but cute dog who looks way too depressed for your heart to handle.

“I forgive you, but don’t do it again, okay?” You pat his head and twirl a finger around his soft ear, smiling when the end of his tail starts twitching. Jungkook barks happily at your forgiveness and stumbles to his feet so he can rest his head on your thigh, tail smacking your leg as it wags.

Your hands are on him immediately, petting him all over and carding through his fur. Jungkook can’t help but vibrate with pleasure, trying very hard to get it across to his wolf that crushing you under his weight is going to get the complete opposite reaction he wants. Your gentle touches knock the breath out of him. Make him submissive and pliant—some might even say pathetic.

He cringes at a memory from two weeks ago.

You were lying next to him, reading a book while he boredly played games on his phone. Turning to you, he positioned his head in your lap.

“I’m bored.”

“And I’m reading.”

He scoffed, pinching your leg. You yelped in surprise and Jungkook smirked smugly.

You resisted smacking him with the book. “Go to bed.”

“But it’s almost dinner,” he pouted. You rolled your eyes, muttering something that sounded oddly like ‘dumb puppy’.

“I’ll wake you when it’s ready. Sleep.”

Jungkook grumbled something under his breath but nevertheless turned onto his stomach, getting comfortable with his head in your lap, pouting. How could you—

His eyes widened a fragment as his entire body relaxed the moment your fingers started gently carding through his hair. He felt his wolf slowly coming to the forefront of his mind, practically purring with contentment as he nuzzled into your thigh, huffing out a wolfish breath.

You massaged his scalp and he let out a quiet moan of appreciation, pressing his face into your thigh to hide his heating cheeks. You laughed, your heart thundering against your rib cage. He wrapped an arm around your waist, and pressed his nose into your hipbone while holding himself to you possessively, little noises of pleasure falling from his lips while you played with his hair.

Jungkook shudders internally at the embarrassing recollection, his nose pressed into your hipbone like it was back then. That memory—though cringe-worthy—is a fond one.

He whines appreciatively when you scratch behind his ears, pressing his nose further into your hip. You chuckle lowly in response, your mouth moving with no sound coming out.

You’re in awe at just how thick his fur is. You could ball up a fistful of hair and still find more fur to grasp on to. You suppose it’s necessary to survive the winters, even though they probably spend most of their time indoors anyway… “You’re so cute!” you squeal softly, cupping Jungkook’s face and bringing your face close to his so you can stare into those large, expressive eyes of his.

He looks surprised at the sudden proximity but doesn’t try to pull away even after he goes cross eyed, his tail wagging excitedly behind him. You half forget that this is in fact your best friend, seeing him as just any other dog.

A very large, very intimidating dog.

“You’re just an overgrown puppy who enjoys some good ol’ pets, aren’t you? Just a big baby boy?” You giggle when he whines and aggressively stomped his feet, his eyes sparkling as he looks at you. Your thumbs trace over his eyes affectionately, smiling brightly at his obvious excitement.

You continue cooing at him unintelligibly, his inner pup yowling and whimpering desperately at the note of affection in your voice.

“Someone’s whipped,” Jimin snorts through their mind link, shaking his head.

“I’m not whipped—“ Jungkook tries to defend himself, though his aggressively wagging tail and barely contained whimpers give him away immediately.

“You’re acting like an overgrown puppy,” Rosé deadpans, her head raised so Lisa can groom the underside of her neck.

“No, I’m not,” he tries to defend himself, doing his best not to show his growing annoyance at his pack’s testing while you’re so close to his face, fighting with his wolf to not lick your face, no matter how much they both want to.

Taehyung snorts from where he’s laying half on top of Jimin, the two looking pleased that they’re getting a rise out of him. “Coochie coochie coo! Come here, Jungoo-baby, let your hyungs groom your fur!”

“Stop,” Jungkook warns them, trying to focus on your bright smile.

“Koo’s about to roll over and beg her to—“

You squeal in surprise and fright when Jungkook turns his head to the side to snarl at his pack-mates, your heart picking up speed and eyes widening. Your fight or flight kicks in, but Jungkook is laying half on top of you, and you’re afraid that if you move more he’ll get snappy.

Jungkook turns back to you with a small huff, licking your hand as an apology for scaring you, before ducking his head to nudge your pelvis insistently. You hesitantly pet him again, wary of another outburst. Jungkook huffs angrily, pinning his ears against his head. You don’t hold his face again, much to his chagrin.

This wouldn’t have happened if his idiot hyungs kept their mouths shut. He, albeit dejectedly, settles for nuzzling his nose into your stomach.

He’ll get face pets from you another time.

As the sun sets, Jungkook’s pack-mates head inside one by one, shifting where you can’t see. Jungkook’s tail lays lethargic and limp by his side, your long, rhythmic strokes over his head and down his spine making him drowsy.

“Y/N! Jungkook! Come inside! It’s getting late and we wanna order food,” Namjoon calls from the behind sliding door that leads to the patio.

“Coming!” you call back, gently shoving Jungkook off you despite his protests. You picture him whining that, “he doesn’t wanna go inside” and to, “keep petting him” in that annoyingly adorable aegyo voice he uses sometimes, but you manage to push the thought away and stand, stretching your legs.

“Let’s get some food, hm?” You roll your finger around his ear as he follows you on your heel, huffing and puffing annoyedly. It feels a bit like having those guard dogs you’ve seen on TV.

Jungkook shifts back in the comfort of his bedroom, running downstairs to join you in the living room where everyone’s busy watching a crime documentary and eating pizza. Strangely enough, you’re no where to be seen, the single seater that might as well have your name on it left unoccupied. “Where’s Y/N?”

“She’s in the kitchen grabbing something to drink,” Jennie supplies distractedly, stuffing her face with a large cheese pizza. Jungkook nods, stepping over everyone sitting on the floor to make himself comfortable in your chair.

When you come back, you see your spot has been taken and slump your shoulders. He grins at you cheekily, and you roll your eyes. You make a move to pass him so you can sit next to Lisa, but Jungkook intervenes quickly by shooting his legs out, causing you to screen to a halt to stop you from tripping over his stupidly long legs.

You glare at him pointedly, aggressively smacking his upper leg to get him to drop it to the floor. He pouts and makes grabby hands at you to come and sit with him in the single chair instead of with his pack mates, tilting his head cutely.

You sigh and shake your head, leaning over the coffee table to grab a slice of pepperoni pizza before turning to one very delighted Jeon Jungkook. He giggles softly as he wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you into his lap, his legs spread so that your ass is cushioned in his thighs. He rests his chin on your shoulder and holds you close, watching the TV with rapt attention. You smile at the doe-eyed look of concentration he has, chewing on the bite you just took while holding the slice over your shoulder for him to take.

He hums appreciatively when he digs his teeth into it, thanking you through a mouthful of pizza. “Don’t speak to me with your mouth full,” you scold with a playful flick to his cheek, shaking your head when he grins stupidly at you in response.

Jungkook trains his eyes on the side of your face as you lean into him, your eyes twinkling with pictures from the screen.

He has only one thought as he tightens his grip around your waist:

Though you might not be his just yet…

…he’s most definitely yours.

430 notes · View notes

rainforest-daisies · 6 months

Text

Day 21|Face sitting

Character: Ethan Landry x Afab!reader

Tags: Face sitting, begging

A/n: starting to get burnt out guys🙏

Kinktober masterlist

“C’mon baby, you’re driving me crazy.” Your body rested against his chest, hands pushing you closer to his face, signaling his patience was running thin. ”So what, if you suffocate me? Actually, I want you to suffocate me. I mean, you take my breath away anyway.” His grin grew at the cheesy one-liner, still grasping onto your hips.

“I mean, you’re dripping everywhere. How do you expect me to stay sane when I see you like this?” Finally, he snapped, gathering as much strength he could muster, and lifting you to press you against his face. His wet lips searched for your clit, meeting the bud with gentle kisses and kitten licks, robbing you of the slick that had collected against your slit as his tongue trailed down.

The exhales from his nose tickled your skin, subtle moans leaving his mouth and vibrating against your cunt. The whines coming from above him spurred him further, thrusting himself into the air to get some kind of release without taking his hands off of you. In between the licks, his mouth pulled away from you, causing a whine to leave your mouth.

“Don’t hold yourself up, fucking sit on my face like a good girl.”

#ethan landry #ethan landry x reader #ethan landry smut #ethan landry oneshot #ethan landry fanfiction #scream x reader #x reader #smut #kinktober

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mins-fins · 5 days

Text

[21:29 pm.]

"you're very pretty, y/n".

you glance over at your groupmate, momentarily pausing your teeth brushing to blink at him. the toothbrush remains in your mouth, as there's too much toothpaste in your mouth for you to muster up any words. that smart asshole. he knew to tell you at this moment instead of when you could easily reply.

he chuckles lightly at your wide eyed, red faced response. he watches attentively as you slowly begin resuming brushing your teeth. "what? did i leave you speechless?"

you spit out the toothpaste, immediately giving him a dumbfounded look. "what— what are you talking about!?" your quick to wipe your mouth, uncharacteristically flustered by the words. there is no way he has his your face this red. this is preposterous.

he raises an eyebrow, a smile of innocence painted on his pretty face. "was it a bad time?"

you try your best to sputter out a response, your mind fogged with thoughts. you had teased him about things like this before, about how he always looked at you, about how he always looked at you like he was in love with you, but it was merely teasing.

so why is your face so red?

goddamnit. you're about to melt onto the bathroom floor.

you turn away from him, because he's going to catch your reddening face eventually if you continue to look at him. "shut up, your such an idiot".

"i'm being honest, though! you're always telling me to be honest! can i not call you pretty?"

"no you can't actually!" you yell in rebuttal for no reason. he seems to notice your nervousness, because he simply twirls a strand of your hair between his fingers, he smiles so prettily that you have no choice but to look. oh you hate that he knows how to mess with you. "you— you—"

you sound pathetic, a blushing, stuttering mess who can't formulate his words correctly. he smiles, knowing he won this little argument of yours. he stops touching your hair, beginning to brush his teeth himself.

you watch as he does so, and all he does is smile again, giving you a sly wink.

your face burns again.

he's too good at that.

#lee jeno #jeno #nct #nct dream #nct imagines #nct drabbles #nct scenarios #nct dream imagines #nct dream drabbles #nct dream scenarios #jeno imagines #jeno drabbles #jeno scenarios #lee jeno x reader #lee jeno x male reader #𑁍 ࣪˖ 𓂃 isa's works!

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charles-leclerizz · 13 days

Text

Rapid Fire Challenge: Aisha vs. Max

Aisha and Max go head-to-head in a rapid-fire question challenge. With only seconds to answer each question, they'll reveal fun facts, preferences, and more. Who will come out on top?

reading time : 8 mins 15 seconds

word count : 1.6 k [ 1650 words ]

warnings : swearing, lewd and suggestive wording, crack, not proof read

Masterlist · 🪷 Aisha · 🪷 Porsche F1 Team · 🪷

" What the fuck are you wearing?" Max looked Aisha up and down, his trademark red bull can clattering into the hollow bin next to him as he watched Aisha run a confused hand down her front before glancing cautiously back up at him.

She arched a brow at him and tugged at her strapless top, " clothes ? "

Max snorted and reached out to poke her slightly exposed mid-driff, " or lack thereof . "

Was the aggravating man wrong? Perhaps not.

In Aisha's opinion, it was a perfectly splendid ensemble. Another one of her brand parter's had generously offered her a two piece outfit, a long, flowing silk skirt that shimmered a classic Porsche silver- paired with a tight cotton, corset top that accentuated her chest with a ruffled middle piece of taffeta.

To others, it may seem over the top.

" You have the same outfit everyday. it's like you're trying to be an NPC ." Aisha plucked at his red-bull jersey with a scrunched up nose, " it's not my fault that brands love to gift me pretty things and you… well . " she fluttered her fingers at his slightly-looser-than-normal tight jeans.

" Hmm .. " he hummed, tempted to flick the stack of dainty, amrapali golden chains that sat delicately on her collarbones, " whatever you say. I'm sure Lando appreciates your outfit . "

" And what's that meant to mean ? "

" - Excuse me ? "

" Just saying - "

" Saying what ? Are you just jealous that I can pull of colours unlike you, who stays about monochromatic as a pair of granny panties . "

" Woah-h-h, big words for miss 'I'm here cause I couldn't get a modeling gig ' "

" - Excuse me ? "

" Oh, just because I have the assets - " she gestured at her breasts and face, "- to do modelling, you're bitter ? don't worry, we can get you a push up bra from Forever 21. You'll fit right in"

" Excuse me ? "

" - What ? "

" We're ready for you, " an onset assistant, who looked too scandalised for her own good, motioned for them to step into the filming room.

They mouthed silent insults and unnecessarily pointed to one another, as they pushed through the inconveniently small door.

" And… we're stuck. this is all your fault max . " aisha hissed, crossing her arms as selflessly as she could muster whilst being pressed chest to chest with an equally uncomfortable Dutchman who propped a palm up- just above the crown of her head on the short doorway.

" my fault ? " he retorted, face growing redder with each second they spent sharing breath, " you're the one with india's remaining crown jewels on her person ."

" well maybe if your entitled ancestors didn - "

" oh shut up, it was the british and you know it . "

Luckily, the assistant had noticed their predicament and rushed over to undo the deadbolt lock to the second door, allowing the two to stumble away from each other.

They had thankfully remained silent as the rest of the filming crew grew more and more entertained with their squabbling, merely following the polite instructions and taking their seats as denoted by the white, masking tape markers stuck onto the plush seats.

" ROLLING "

" Welcome back everyone to a new season of formula 1 ! " the chirpy interview babbled to the largest camera before turning to the drivers who sat in line with her, watching her neutrally as they both accepted small, clip on microphones.

" Today we have … " she trailed off, giggling at Aisha who struggled to slip on the clasp of the tech in her hand, the plastic mechanism clacking obnoxiously at each failed attempt.

" Max, from our very own red bull garage ," she turned to max, who was already set himself up and was now sitting straighter in his tufted, indigo seat. He waved at the camera and politely smiled.

The interviewer glanced at Aisha as she victoriously gasped and raised her hands happily when the microphone stayed put, tucked between her skin and top, " … and aisha, rookie of the season down from porsche . "

Aisha waved at the camera, a serene smile playing on her lips.

" We're here to play a quick fire round of questions with the grids current champion , " she gestured to max, " and this years fresh meat . " she pointed her stack of cards at aisha.

" I'll be asking you both questions about each other, and whoever guesses correctly the fastest, will win a point . it's all about testing if your racing chemistry translates to real-life friendship ! "

" What friendship ? " max deadpanned, fiddling with his fingers.

" Can we do this one thing without you letting people know you hate me ? or is it too hard for the 3X world champion to multi-task ? "

The interviewer's eyes ping-ponged between them before her grin became artificially wider and she screeched a shrill, " Let's begin ! "

" alright max, what is aisha's favourite track to race ? "

the driver jumped at his name and the camera lens zoomed into his determined expression as he glanced between aisha's anticipatory face and the air, as if he were begging the particles for the answer.

" one second "

" she's said this before.. " he tried, clapping his hands nervously.

" i have, " aisha shrugged, egging him on.

" it was one of those times where she wouldn't shut up. "

" two seconds "

" come on max, it's so easy, i've raced there in f2 as well ... "

" yeah- cause i had the f2 races on while i was training, "

" three seconds "

" wow you're bad at this, " aisha huffed out, landing back against her chair with a relaxed flop.

max bounced his knee, forcibly shutting his eyes and harshly pressing his fingers into them as he pieced together his answer, " it's... shit... is it ?.. suzuka ? "

"- oh for fuck sake ! "

" - you are correct ! one point to max "

CURRENT SCORE : 0 - 1

" okay, aisha, If max could race in any era of Formula 1, past or present, which one would she choose ? "

" how come i get the piss hard one ? "

" cause you'll never actually get hard otherwise.." max mumbled.

" oh fuck off. "

" language guys, our editors aren't paid enough to censor all of this ."

aisha hooked her ankles together before leaning forward and hummed thoughtfully, " maybe... i don't think he's even mentioned this..." she plucked at her dangling earring as she continued to oscillate in recollection.

he shrugged, " i don't think i have actually."

" one second "

" wait... wait..." aisha hurried out, holding her palm out, " i have to choose wether he's too egotistical for my geuss.."

" oh please, " max sassed, " take your time, i'm sure my ego has alot to dissect. "

aisha scrunched up her face sourly, " yeah it does- like your unsolved daddy issues. "

" always the daddy issues ." he threw his hands up, " atleast be creative."

" two seconds "

" okay okay, hmmm, the 2021 season ? " aisha screwed her eyes shut, just incase she was wrong, " he would love to relive his first WDC . "

" that is..." the interviewer patted her legs quickly, continously creating a monotonous beating sound, " correct ! point to aisha . "

CURRENT SCORE : 1 - 1

" last one for max, if he gets this one, he wins, if not, then aisha gets a chance . "

max nodded determinedly, his mouth set in a hard line, "ready."

" wow, okay, " the interviewer gawked at his statue-like intensity, " uhm, what is aisha's pre-race ritual . "

aisha kicked her chin up, ready to watch max blubber over his last question, nobody knows her pre-race ritual, she was diligent enough to keep it hidden.

" so, i know she calls her parents around.. an hour before the race, " he paused mid-way to grin like a cheshire at her increasingly suspicious look, " and, i also know she has a playlist she listens to, mostly hozier.. but, without fail she.." max snaps his fingers, the final peice flickering to life like a broken tube light, "... she always.. can i say this ? "

aisha's face popped, cheeks flushing dangerously quickly, " can he ? "

" i.." the interviewer looked out the small tech crowd behind the camera who all gave her the same, confused shrug, ushering her to continue, " i assume so."

" she always wears.. ehm.. a pair of white underwear ." he mumbles the last phrase, avoiding eye-contact with anyone within the room whilst scratching the back of his neck.

" max ! " aisha smacked his shoulder in outrage, "wha- i mean why- but how ? " she spat out, her words merging within eachother until they tumbled out in an unintelligble spew.

" we didn't get that, she wears what ? "

" white.. undergarments, " max hesitantly answered.

the interviewer blinked a few times before gulping heavily and clearing her throat, " well thats a gross violation ! but let's just gloss over that. "

CURRENT SCORE : 1 - 2

" and for the sake of not continuing this hell-game, max is the winner. congratulations. " she clapped her hand gently against her queue cards.

"yeah.. well done.. bro " aisha muttered, dissociating from her surroundings to protect herself from further embarrassment that may just allow her already erratic heart to jump out of her ribcage.

" i don't feel like a winner," max joined her monotone lilt, eyes wide and wet, maintaing an unwwavering stare at the white wall that stood proud behind the myriad of wires.

MUTUALS GET INSTANT TAGS [@vroomvroomcircuit, @disneyprincemuke, @verstappen-cult, @starkwlkr, @sailing-with-100-ships, @foreveralbon, @lorarri], OTHERS [@weekendlusting, @woozarts, @mellowarcadefun, @paintedbypoetry, @33-81, @kazuha-pista-badam, @inejghafawifesblog,d3kstar, @itsjustkhaos, @tremendousstarlighttragedy, @xoscar03,@nichmeddar, @sisinever], IF YOU WANT TO BE TAGGED, PLEASE SEND IN AN ASK !

#f1 #f1 fanfiction #Max Verstappen #Max Verstappen imagine #Max Verstappen fanfic #Max Verstappen fluff #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 blurb #f1 fic #f1 drabble #f1 fandom #f1 x female reader #f1 fluff #f1 smut #f1blr #[darlingwrites]#[formulaforlove]

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keresnotceres · 9 months

Text

Say You’re Mine (Good, Good, Great pt 2)

Ghost x Fem!Reader

[nsfw] cw(s): rdr is being a slut again, jealousy, possessive undertones, SEX, rough sex, oral (m receiving), throatfucking lol, p-in-v sex, ghost getting called ‘big boy,’ unsafe sex oops.

4.7k words In honor of 200+ followers (wtf guys thank u) & by the request of many, I present to you: Good, Good, Great pt2 :) This is just shameless porn with an egregious amount of plot. Enjoy my lovely dovies <3 (Also Ghost has a short refractory period for uh,, plot reasons).

A few months after his jealousy at Myth, Ghost gets sent on leave. When he arrives home at 12 AM on a Friday night, he promptly decides to pay you a little visit at work. You, however, are once again testing his patience (and he doesn’t take particularly kindly to that).

Roughly three months later, you’re working a busy Friday night at Myth, and damn it, you’re making sure that you’re making good money tonight. Flirting was easy; men were easy. Just making them think you were the least bit interested did wonders for your tips. Sure, you didn’t make as much as the girls on stage, but it was pretty damn close to it.

You made your way downstairs after taking a few orders from assorted tables upstairs, going to the servers closet to ring them into the system when the hostess scurried over and told you about a party of 8 at Center Table 3 before skittering on back to the stand to greet another guest or five. After putting your tables’ orders, you began to prepare yourself for the nightmare that this 8-top was about to be.

It was only 10 PM, and you had hope they wouldn’t stick around until closing. As you make your way through the sea of customers on the first floor, you spot the table; even better, you spot the perfect person to flirt-till-you-die with.

He was rather young, maybe 21 or 22, and looked like he would see white if you even smiled at him. He came in with some sort of bachelor party, and you were expecting the worst sort of groom-to-be and his just-as-bad groomsmen. Your target looked the most frightened to be there, like if he said the wrong thing he would be thrown to the curb; which meant he was the perfect man to squeeze some money out of. The men around him would probably cheer him on for getting special attention.

You walk over to the table with a smile etched onto your face, swaying your hips just enough to be noticeable, and put a small bounce into your steps. You stop next to the man at the head of the table and wait for the group to quiet from their unnecessarily in-depth conversation about their favorite actresses.

“I’ll be taking care of you guys tonight,” you introduce yourself. “Can I get you guys started with a bottle or are you looking for something by the glass?” You look down at the man you’re next to, tilting your head a bit.

He looks up to you, not even bothering to hide the stare he gives your tits. “What beers do you have here?”

You nod a bit, launching into the list. “We have Budweiser, Guinness, Foster’s, Carling—” The man put his hand up to stop you, making some sort of interrupting noise.

“I’ll take a Foster’s,” he says blandly. He gestures to another one of his friends to order, head swiveling back over to the stage as a dancer makes her way on. If you didn’t want to take a glass and shove it up his ass at that moment, the following hours of their presence would definitely make you want to.

You stretch your lips into the kindest customer service smile you can muster and look at the next man. When you get to the last drink of the table, the poor man you were planning on hitting in til’ he couldn’t see straight, you step closer.

“And what can I get you?” You make your voice just a little bit sweeter and lean down a bit.

His eyes dart from your face to your breasts, then dart back up. “A whiskey sour,” he blurts out, tacking on a quiet ‘please’ as a second thought.

“Of course,” you smile at him, then look up to the rest of the group. “I’ll be right back with those drinks.” You turn away, and as you’re walking towards the servers closet, you can hear some cheers and a catcall from the table.

Once you’re in the server's closet, you drop the painfully plastic smile and fish a coworker’s Elfbar from the pile of check books and pens on the table below the kiosk. As you enter drink after drink, you take a hit from the vape, letting the nicotine take the place of smacking your head against the wall repeatedly.

You send the final drink, a fucking whiskey sour of all things, and groan. Another bottle girl comes speeding into the server’s closet, a sour look on her face.

“What’s it today, Mel?” You ask, eyebrows raised as you lean against one of the walls.

Mel looks at you disgruntled, like she was about to lose her shit. “My table just tried to order five espresso martinis and then got mad at me when I said we couldn’t do them tonight.” She taps a few buttons of the kiosk rather aggressively. “Then proceeded to ask for an extra strong vodka cran, but to only be charged for a single.”

Mel taps on the mixed drink button, then on the vodka button, then cranberry, then double. “Fuck her,” she hisses, taking the Elfbar right out of your hands.

It’s only after she takes two hits from it that she asks whose it is. You don’t know either.

The night continues like that, with Mel being perpetually pissed off at a table and you staving off the urge to bash your skull in with a vaguely blueberry smelling vape.

When the clock hits midnight, you don’t have the Cinderella moment that some part of you wishes you could have. You don’t get to rush home, fall asleep, then wake up to your prince charming searching for you. No, of course you don’t.

Instead, you get the worst hit from someone’s cart that leaves you fighting for your life and, much worse, the nightmare bachelor table waving you down.

“What can I help you guys with?” You look around the table, waiting for someone to speak up.

One of them takes one for the team, finally. “We wanted to get a bottle of something, but Nick here decided to wave you down before we figured out what to get.” He jerks a thumb in the direction of the man you decided to target.

So your victim's name is Nick, huh?

You put a hand to your mouth and force out a laugh; a man likes it when you laugh at things he says. “It’s alright, I don’t mind waiting for you to decide.” Your eyes flicker to Nick, meeting his for a fleeting second.

It was almost too easy.

You smirk at him, putting on your best charm. “Since you gave me the false alarm, how ‘bout you buy me a drink?” A few of the guys at the table chuckle, as expected. You take the opportunity to walk up to him, getting closer.

You put your hand on the back of his chair, leaning your body weight into it, your fingers facing him. Nick looks up at you like a girl looking up at some ugly guy she’s giving a blowjob to, and it takes everything in you to give him a simple, sultry smile in response instead of a fit of laughter.

You look over to the groom-to-be, waiting for him to decide on the table’s bottle. And then you see a familiar jacket in the corner of your eyes, with a familiar build and a familiar surgical mask covering half of a very familiar face.

God damn, Simon Riley might just be everything you needed tonight.

Once again, he didn’t even bother to call to tell you he was coming home. You couldn’t stay mad at him for long, though. The rational part of your brain blue-screens, leaving only the work-oriented brain and the stupid slut brain left. And the work-oriented part of your brain wants to make good money, so that’s exactly what you’re going to continue doing.

There’s something about fucking with Simon that thrills you. Maybe it’s the fact you know you’ll get something good out of it, or maybe you’re just a little messed up in the head.

You look away from Simon and swivel your head back down to the poor soul you’ve chosen to pay off your car insurance. Your hand shifts so that your fingertips rest gingerly on Nick’s shoulder, and boy does it do wonders.

His look of ‘blowjob innocence’ morphs into ‘holy shit a woman is interested in me’ and some of his friends croon oohs, another whistles. You peel your eyes away from Nick and look to the groom, “have you decided on a bottle?”

He looks over at you from the bottle menu with unfocused eyes. “We’ll do, uh, a bottle of Jameson and,” he squinted back at the menu, then looked at a friend. “What vodka did you want?”

The friend looks up from his lap, his illuminated face darkening. “Oh,” he leans over to look at the menu, then looks at you. Or, rather, he looks at your tits. “Grey Goose.” You fight the urge to raise your eyebrows and question him, but manage to smile politely and nod.

“I’ll bring those right down for you boys.” As you leave the table, you let your fingers trace Nick’s shoulder lightly. Your gaze slowly finds Simon when you turn away, and he simply stares at you, his usual bourbon nestled in a hand.

With a cheeky smile on your face, you skitter over to Simon to greet him.

“Hi there,” you croon, “what’s a big boy like you doin’ here?” Simon gives no hint at a change in attitude, you don’t even see a single hint that he’s smiling under the mask. You pout at him, “at least say hi.”

His eyes are unusually steely, like they had been months ago during his surprise visit. “Stop touching him.”

Your faux pout melts into a grin, “jealous?” You ask, stepping forward. “Again?”

He looks away from you, eyes flicking to the dramatic scene of some random movie playing on one of the bar TVs. “I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.”

You lean into him, breasts pressing up against his bicep. “Come on, big boy,” you goad, “no need to act nonchalant.”

He lifts his arm to push you off, not even bothering to look at you. “You heard me,” he says, “don’t touch him again.” His words only push you to question him further, if anything, they make you want to get more handsy with — what was his name? Nate?

“Or what?” You press, cocking your head to the side to catch his eyes again. “You gonna kill him?” Simon’s eyes flit to you, flashing with some sort of challenge.

His eyes bore into yours, “maybe.” His gaze moves away from you again and his free hand slips up to pull down the surgical mask and take a sip of bourbon.

His lackluster response leaves you itching for more. You huff at him and slink away to the server’s closet to put the two bottles on the bachelor party’s tab. You trudge up the stairs to the second floor, eyes sweeping over the chattering people at tables.

You grab the two requested bottles from the upstairs bar before visiting a few of your tables on the second floor, checking in with a sweet smile before heading back down to the bachelor party. You give your poor cheeks a rest as you bounce down the stairs, your face falling into a bored resting face before it stretches right back into that damn customer service smile that you managed to perfect over the years.

You pass by Simon on your way back to the bachelor party, his eyes give you a brief warning before they flick back to the TV screen. It only makes you want to make him mad.

After you’ve set the bottles on the table and brought over new glasses (including a few shot glasses) for their liquor, you go right back to flirting with whatever-his-name-is. Your hand rests fully on his shoulder as you chat with the table, paying special attention to Nigel (or was it Nico?).

You can practically feel Simon’s eyes burning a hole through you as you do so, and it makes you wonder just how much he really cared about this little stint of yours. Nevertheless, you let your victim of the night continue to think he’s special, you even get roped into feeding him a shot of the Grey Goose.

Nick (you were reminded of his name by one of his friends goading him into taking shots) starts to get more handsy with you, to which you kick it up a notch. As you gently hold the shot glass up to his lips, his hands snake up and rest on your hips, keeping you in place as his friends count down until he has to take the shot.

You lean forward with the shot glass after someone shouts ‘zero,’ basically shoving your tits into his face as he took his shot of top-shelf vodka. You congratulate his semi-decent shot taking skills in an effort to make yourself seem like you really like him.

“Good job,” you purr, hand raising to stroke his hair once before falling back to your side. “Took that so well.” When you step away, the man looks like he’s in a stupor.

You turn to look at Simon with a cheeky smile engraved on your lips, only to receive a very pointed glare.

When the bachelor party finally leaves at around 1:30 AM, after what feels like for-fucking-ever, you wander over to the table to pick up the check. Your flirting really paid off.

A tip of £200 on a bill of roughly £600 — almost a 35% tip. Making money off of men was ridiculously easy. Even better, you finally get to go the fuck home! You silently thank your manager for not giving you the closing shift and get your shit before anyone can pester you to stay longer.

Simon’s waiting for you at the door, staring straight through you as you make your way to him with your work bag slung over your shoulder. He doesn’t make any effort to speak, and you’re frankly a bit too burnt out to comment on it. You pass him your car keys, unwilling to drive after your nightmare shift.

The drive home is quiet, not even the cheesy radio music breaks the silence despite the volume being on level 30.

As soon as he pulls into your parking space of the building lot, he turns the car off and flings your keys back over to you. You amble into the building,

Simon’s hands are on your waist before you can even put your keys down, you barely register that the door shuts behind the two of you as his fingers dig into your hips.

You snicker at him, “you weren't jealous, huh?” Simon doesn’t respond verbally, just hoists you into the air and puts you over his shoulder like you weigh absolutely nothing.

His reaction is nothing he hasn’t done before, but there’s a heat in your abdomen that tells you that you’re going to call out of work tomorrow. Well, that, and the fact that Simon’s had a hard on for the entirety of the drive home and you really wanted to fix that problem for him. Bottom line is, you’re horny, he’s horny, it’s going to be a long fucking night.

It’s what you needed after around 7 months without being stretched out by Simon. It’s what he needed after watching you get touchy with someone who wasn’t him. If you didn’t end up sprawled out on Simon’s bed, incoherently moaning words as he fucked you dumb in 30 minutes, you were both going to have an issue.

As expected, when he got to the top of the stairs, he turned right instead of left, going into his room instead of yours. His room was mostly untouched, the comforter a little crumpled from the time you passed out on it after taking one too many blinkers a few weeks ago (you’ve found you really like being in his room when you aren’t sober).

He shuts the door behind him and drops you on the bed on your back, further disheveling the dark gray comforter. You push yourself up onto your elbows, encouraged by the rustling of Simon’s belt coming undone.

“Get on the floor,” he tells you, “on your knees.” You make an absentminded noise in response and shuffle to the end of the bed, sliding off with relative ease. He tells you to do something else, but you’re too absorbed in your own world to hear him.

Simon walks towards you, hand resting atop your head, fingers tangling in your hair as he sits down on the edge of the bed in front of you. “Not fuckin’ listening to me anymore, huh?” His grip on your hair tightens and he moves your head back and forth.

“You’ll fix that tonight, yeah?” He eyes you like a man starved, you can’t find the words to speak, nor can you move your head under the grip he has on your hair. He seems to take your silence as a ‘yes.’

Your eyes roam to his torso, to which part of you is disappointed by the presence of his shirt. Then, you look further down to the very obvious tent in his briefs. Your head goes to move closer on instinct, but Simon holds it back.

You struggle against his hold for a few seconds before sighing and giving up, looking up at him with a frown. He looks down at you, a cocky smirk adorning his lips.

“You need to learn patience,” he grumbles, pushing your head to the side and retracting his hand to move the waistband of his underwear.

Your head returns to its original position almost immediately, anticipation coursing through your body. You’re basically salivating at the thought of having Simon down your throat.

In all honesty, Simon should be grateful you were taught manners at a young age, because otherwise you would’ve slapped his hand away the second his head popped out of the dark fabric and taken him all for yourself.

In substitute, you shuffle closer to him, knees scratching against the carpet.

Simon pulls his cock out, finally, and gestures for you to have your way. You pounce on the opportunity, hands flying up from your sides. One settles on his thigh as a support as the other slips down, thumb pressing against the tip. You can feel Simon jerk under you from the contact, and it only makes you dart forward and press your closed lips to the side of his cock.

You part your mouth and flatten your tongue against him, dragging it upwards until you reach the head again. You let your mouth part further and take him in slowly, teasingly.

Simon’s hand grips your hair, pushing your head further down on his cock. A low groan escapes his throat as you take him in your mouth and his fingers twitch in your hair.

He bucks his hips up, watching as you take all of him in diligently without even so much as gagging. He doesn’t expect anything less from you. He keeps an even pace until the need gets to him, until the haze ends and he remembers why he has you on your knees; why he’s not supposed to be nice and even.

He picks up his pace, rutting into your mouth quicker than you can take, leaving you gagging on his cock as he holds your head in place. Your moans turn staccato, the sound of Simon’s balls slapping against your chin falls behind your stifled gagging. It’s a rhythmic disaster, but fuck, it’s music to his ears.

At some point, he stops thrusting into your mouth and simply pistons your head up and down his cock with a hand. You’re nothing but a drooling mess, looking up at Simon’s face through your eyelashes, blinking through tears. He appears to be the polar opposite of you. His eyes are calm and his lips are settled into a thin line; the only thing that lets you know he’s relishing in this is the twitching of his cock down your throat and the low groans he lets out occasionally.

That is, until his jaw sets and his grip on your hair gets tighter. His other hand takes a fistful of your hair as well and holds your head in place again, his hips thrusting forwards and retracting faster than you can even react to. Your hands fly to his thighs, nails digging into the denim as he ruthlessly ruts into you. You’ve given up on trying to breathe.

Simon’s mouth opens slightly, a shuddered breath tumbles out and your lips quirk up ever so slightly. “Fuck,” he hisses, dull fingernails scratching your scalp in a mind-numblingly good way. He bucks into you harshly, then again, and a groan feathered by pants fills the air as cum drips down your throat.

His cock is heavy on your tongue as he pulls out and you’re quick to dart back to it and lick small beads of cum off head. His torso spasms at the action and his hands yank you back by the hair. You whine, trying to wriggle loose of the iron grip the man has on you, but stop once he lets go.

Through labored breathing, he tugs you off of your knees and pulls you up to him. He falls back onto the bed, taking you down with him. You quite enjoy straddling over him, breasts dangling below you as your hands press into the mattress on either side of his head.

You give him a stupid smile, “out of breath, big boy?”

He scoffs at you, the only evidence that he just came in your mouth is his lack of a boner. “Don’t say things you’ll regret, love.” The pet name sends a swarm of butterflies to your stomach, (rather, your ovaries). His hands come out of nowhere, grabbing your wrists and holding them behind your back, suspending you in the air over him. “Don’t think I forgot what you like,” he muses, “what a slut.”

His eyes gloss over you, when he gets to your skirt and fishnet tights, he frowns. “Told you to take ‘em off,” he mutters, moving so that both of your wrists are held in just one of his hands. It’s both a blessing and a curse that he’s built like a tank. His free hand snakes down and tugs on the edge of your skirt, making you splutter out a few words of warning.

“Let me undo it,” you plead, “you’ll break it.” He looks at you unimpressed as you try to get him to not ruin your favorite skirt. He relents, miraculously, and maneuvers you to straddle over his thighs. You don't bother trying to take your time as you undo the inner clasp of your skirt before unzipping it. Your right hand grips his as you shift your weight onto your right knee while the left hand pulls the skirt off of you, then vice versa.

Simon’s patience runs thin when it comes to your fishnets, and pushes you down onto his chest by the shoulders. With your ass in the air, he simply rips the fabric until he’s satisfied. Now you’re even more horny, but you also have a giant hole in the crotch area of your only pair of fishnets.

He makes a noise somewhere between a grunt and an appreciative noise. “Better.” His fingers brush over your underwear, letting out a quiet laugh at the damp fabric. Your hips jerk against the ginger touches from his hands, making him pull his hand away.

A whine breaks through your throat, your lips pulled down into a pout. His eyes flick to yours, the look sending shivers of ecstacy down your spine.

“You don’t deserve that,” he murmurs. “Come on, you know the rules.”

You give him a pleading look, eyes straining to see his from your face-down ass-up position. “Please?” You know it won’t work, his resolve is entirely too strong to be folded by the likes of your begging.

You get your answer as he grabs you by the waist and tosses you to the side. Faster than you can even make a remark at, he’s looming over you, hips trapped between his knees, dog tags dangling down.

“Don’t try to beg,” he chastises, voice low. A hand moves your soaked underwear to the side and he gently presses his tip against your pussy. It’s nothing but a tease, but it has you squirming for more, and there’s a vicious little grin on Simon’s face that sparks something in you.

He doesn’t bother to warm you up, and, really, you would’ve been frustrated by having his fingers stretching you out rather than his dick. Is that a safe sexual practice? No; but right now, you didn’t care about that, you just wanted to get dicked down.

After what feels like an eternity of teasing (in reality, likely just about five minutes), Simon finally pushes the tip of his cock into you. He pauses, then slowly pushes inch after inch into you until he’s balls deep in you and you’re damn near rolling your eyes into the back of your head from the feeling of him.

It had been too fucking long since you felt him inside you, since he stretched your insides to fit his cock so perfectly that he mumbles compliments into your ears when he feels like being nice.

He stays buried inside your pussy and looks you in the eye, another challenge. “You wouldn’t let him do this, would you?” He asks, arms lifting off of your body to cross over his chest. “No,” he responds for you, his hands darting back down to grab your waist. “You’re mine.”

And, oh, that admission sends waves of giddy excitement through your body.

“And I’ll prove it.” It’s a rather ominous statement, but he doesn’t even give you the time to register that before he pulls out from you and slams right back in. Then again. Then again, and again, and again until a rough, even pace is set.

Even, however, is not what you wanted. You wanted rough, fast. You could mumble for him to go faster all you wanted, but Simon wouldn’t budge. If he wanted to, he could go as slow as he possibly could just to keep you frustrated.

But even Simon is only human, and he can’t resist the urge to rut into you with reckless abandon.

His hips jolt against yours, a muttered expletive turns into a pant of ‘fuck’ and barely contained groans as Simon all but slams into you. The sound of skin hitting skin accompanies the noises falling out of your mouth, Simon’s hushed tones, and the bed frames occasional creak to create a melody of pure lust.

You find yourself unable to hold yourself together any longer, thighs twitching and abdomen getting tighter as Simon continues to pound into you like there’s no tomorrow (would it technically be ‘no today?’ It is 2 in the morning, after all). You can’t even bring yourself to form the words before you’re cumming on Simon’s cock while it’s thrusting in and out of you.

A whine builds in the back of your throat, your legs tighten around Simon’s waist, trying to pull him closer into you as the heat builds in your abdomen. One of his hands lifts from off of your waist and runs through your hair.

“I can tell,” he manages to get out through almost undetectable grunts. “You’re barely hanging on, huh?” He’s taunting you. “Go on,” he mutters, shifting just enough for him to rub against you in an entirely new angle.

You make a collection of noises, a moan that devolves into a whimper, and eventually squeaks as Simon continues to fuck you through your orgasm until he eventually starts pouding into erratically, an uneven pace that only gets more and more mind-numbing until he’s pulled out of you and you can feel your lower stomach be painted with his own orgasm.

It’s just seconds later that he leans his head down and presses his forehead to your. A simple, but oh so damning gesture of intimacy. His breath puffs against your face, warm and quick, but you can’t help but lean into the touch.

🍒: @xaestheticalien @clear-your-mind-and-dream @stunkbiggu @abbiesxox @nijiru @lanu-la

#cod mw2 #simon riley x reader #ghost mw2 #ghost x reader #mw2 x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley x female reader #simon ghost riley smut #simon riley fanfic #simon riley mw2 #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader smut

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queenshelby · 1 month

Text

An Illicit Affair

Part 21: CAUGHT

Pairing: Cillian Murphy (46) x Reader (23)

Warning: Age-Gap, Taboo Relationship, Infidelity

Inside the kitchen, Cillian poured you two a glass of wine and heated up the food while you watched, marveling at how easy it was to be around him. It wasn't just his charm or experience, but the passion that seemed to radiate from him. It was infectious and invigorating.

As you sat at the dining table, picking at the delectable dishes laid in front of you, the two of you started talking, about everything and nothing. You discussed everything from poetry to life choices, the conversation flowing naturally, almost effortlessly, as if you had known each other for years.

And then, eventually, he brought up his wife and the fact that, on the morning of this very same day, he had phoned his lawyer.

"I am filing for divorce," he confessed with a solemnity that turned the atmosphere heavy with a looming sense of foreboding. "I just can't do it anymore," he sighed heavily but with a hint of excitement in his voice.

His words hung in the air, weighty and inevitable. You sipped from your wine glass, feeling a sudden chill seize you.

"Please tell me that it's not because of me," you demanded, your voice wavering slightly.

"No," he reassured you, grabbing your hand across the table. "It's just...I can't pretend anymore. I can't keep pretending that I love her when I don't and, after all she has done to me over the years, I am certain that, leaving her, is what I need in order to be happy," he confessed.

His words pierced your heart, and you felt a sense of guilt creeping up inside you. Despite his reassurance, you couldn't deny the fact that you had somehow played a significant role in the end of Cillian and his wife's relationship, although it wasn't intentional. Your affair had started off as a simple short-lived escape from reality for both of you, but now that you confessed your feelings for one another, it was much more than that.

"What are you thinking?" Cillian asked, his voice soft and soothing.

"I just hope you know what you're getting yourself into," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. You couldn't deny the guilt you felt over what was happening. "She might try to ruin your career," you warned, causing Cillian to nod.

"I know, but like I said, I cannot keep going like this," he confessed. "Life is too short, and I refuse to let her dictate how I should live mine."

You both fell silent for a moment, the gravity of the situation soaking in. The thought of Cillian's name being dragged through the mud was unbearable - even if you felt confident that he was making the right decision.

"What about us?" you finally asked, your voice barely above a whisper. "Will there ever be an 'us'?" you wanted to know, causing Cillian to gaze at you, his intense blue eyes meeting your own.

"I want there to be an 'us' Y/N," he affirmed, squeezing your hand. "But I have to take care of this first," he explained, a solemn expression crossing his face. "And to tell you the truth, I do not know how I would ever explain this to Max," Cillian sighed, seeing that until just a year ago you were dating him, his very own son.

"I know. It seems like an impossible situation," you agreed, a twinge of sadness creeping into your voice. "But once you finalise your divorce, we may be able to come up with a plan to address this," you told him, a determined glint in your eyes.

Cillian nodded solemnly, a faint smile playing on his lips.

"I could not possibly ask you to wait for me, Y/N. You are young and deserve better than someone like me, who comes with baggage," Cillian admitted, a look of regret flashing across his handsome features as the weight of his words settled between them.

"Cillian, I am in love with you," you declared before taking in a deep breath. "And it's not something that I thought would happen when we started sleeping with each other, but it did," you confessed with all the sincerity you could muster. "So, I think me waiting for you to sort out this mess might be worthwhile. Despite, we can still go on like this, in secret, for the time being," you suggested, your voice hopeful.

Cillian's eyes lit up, his surprise palpable. "You'd do that for me?"

"I would," you replied, a determined expression on your face. "But only if you promise that we will work towards something real after all this is over."

"I promise," he assured you, cupping your cheek before placing a tender kiss on your lips. The promise of a future together was exhilarating, yet tinged with uncertainty. You knew it would not be easy, but the thought of being with Cillian - of sharing yourself fully with him - made the struggle worthwhile.

After you finished your meal and settled on the sofa together, the hours crept towards midnight. The two of you were cocooned in a blanket of warmth, your legs tangled together as you shared stories of your lives.

You relished in the opulence of his penthouse suite, the skyline of London bathed in an ethereal glow as the city lulled to sleep outside. The sounds of the city seemed to fade away until only the gentle hum of his heater filled the silence. Your head rested on Cillian's chest, lulled into a peaceful trance by the steady beat of his heart.

You glanced up at the clock, noticing the time had slipped past the midnight hour. Reluctantly, you detangled yourself from him and stood up.

"I should get going," you mumbled, stifling a yawn. "Early start tomorrow."

Cillian grabbed your hand, his face unreadable in the dim light. "Can't I convince you to stay?"

You hesitated, the desire to spend the night beside him battling with the responsibilities that awaited you in the morning.

"I guess I could get to work straight from here," you mused aloud, glancing up as a sly grin spread across Cillian's face. He tugged gently at your hand, pulling you towards him and trapping you within the circle of his arms.

"Good, then stay," he murmured, nuzzling your hair.

A sigh escaped your lips and you leaned into his embrace, feeling as though you could remain in this moment for an eternity.

"Okay," you agreed, reaching up to brush a stray lock of hair away from his forehead. "But only if you promise me something," you declared, looking him directly in the eyes.

"Anything," he vowed, his voice low and ragged with desire.

"You will let me sleep," you giggled. "No fooling around," you commanded, your voice barely audible.

Cillian merely chuckled at your words, kissing the top of your head affectionately. "How about a little more fooling around and then I will let you go to sleep," he teased, nipping at your earlobe with his teeth.

"Hmm, not fair," you whispered, closing your eyes and loving the sensation of his lips on your sensitive ear.

He placed his hand underneath your chin, tilting it upwards slightly. His lips found yours in a soft kiss, his tongue tracing the seam of your lips. You opened your mouth to allow him entrance, the taste of wine still on his tongue as it danced with yours. His hands roamed over your body, exploring every inch of you.

Despite your exhaustion, your body immediately responded to his touch, a slow burn working its way through your veins as arousal built within you.

"I am going to be sore tomorrow, won't I?" you joked, pulling back from his embrace and smiling up at him.

Cillian chuckled softly, his arms still wrapped around your waist. "That's the idea. I want you to remember this moment tomorrow, so you know how much I want you," he admitted, his eyes twinkling mischievously.

You shivered, your body aching for his touch, but your mind still tried to resist, knowing that the morning would soon be upon you.

"The sheer thought of being tired and sore from having been fucked by you all night is quite the turn on," you said, biting your lower lip in anticipation.

"Oh, yeah? That's good to know," Cillian murmured, capturing your lip between his teeth for a playful nibble.

His hands slid up your back, lifting the hem of your shirt and caressing the bare skin beneath. You gasped, your body tingling with anticipation.

His t-shirt came off next, revealing his toned but slim frame and the smattering of freckles across his shoulders.

You couldn't help but trace the line of freckles with your fingers, savoring the feeling of his bare skin against yours.

Cillian then captured your lips in a deep kiss, his tongue tracing the contours of your mouth.

You yielded to him, allowing yourself to become lost in the passion of the moment. Your hands roamed over his chest, feeling the defined muscles beneath your fingertips.

Despite your earlier reservations, your body begged for more. Each brush of his skin against yours sent a shiver down your spine. His cock hardened against your leg, the sensation making you gasp and, by this point, you were so engrossed within each other that you didn't realize that Max had walked through the front door.

"What the fuck!" Max exclaimed, his eyes widening in horror as he realized the scene that was unfolding before him after his mother had sent him to Cillian's apartment to get something for her, knowingly, claiming that his father wasn't home.

To be continued...

Tags:

@sunbeamseas @saint-ackerman @oatmealisweird @naxxsstuff @amanda08319 @r-m-cidnah @elysiannook @cillshot @infireddabdab @tastycakee @harrysbestiee @lilybabe22 @adalynlowell @henrywintersdearestgirl @ietss @thatgirlthatreadswattpad @ryiamarie @axionn

@heidimoreton @nela-cutie @futurecorps3 @delishen @nosebleeds-247 @thirteenis-myluckynumber @gills-lounge @hjmalmed @lost-fantasy @tiredkitten @sidechrisporn @smallsoulunknown @charqing-qing @hopefulinlove @aporiasposts @shycrybaby @me-and-your-husband @hjmalmed @lacontroller1991 @galxydefender @aporiasposts

@galxydefender @hunnibearrr @saint-ackerman @lunyyx @gentlemonsterjennie1 @ihavealotoffandomssorry @nadloves @lost-fantasy @nolucesn@mcavoy-girl @hjmalmed @bloodybagels @obeyme4life @richiesgroupie @blushykiss @tatumrileyslover @teawithsatanx @orijanko @rhaenyra4ever @xcinnamonmalfoyx @budugu @nadloves @kmc1989 @bloodybagels @obeyme4life @richiesgroupie @forgottenpeakywriter @smailaway @sophiaaguirred

#cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy x you #cillian murphy x y/n #cillian murphy imagine #cillian murphy #cillian murphy fanfiction #cillian murphy fic #cillian murphy fanfic

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satorustyles · 10 months

Text

you can't fall asleep (a gojo one shot)

a/n: hi! yay to my first post! i'm still exploring the jjk fandom and spoiling myself with fics and drabbles while waiting for the next episode, and this definitely won't be the last one i'm writing! i'll be making more parts of this with the other jjk men but for now, pls enjoy this gojo one shot! -bear

nanami kento version here!

sukuna version here!

warnings: none, just pure fluff and sleepy!reader <3

word count: 851

Whenever you felt restless and needed to get enough sleep for a mission the next day, Gojo was always one step ahead of making sure you slept early. He's the one who assigned you on that mission, anyway. So, of course, as your teacher (and lover), he always ensured that his student got enough rest, not knowing the outcome of every mission. It would range from a few hours to a few days. The longest one you've been on was three days, and Gojo felt terrible for keeping you up the evening prior.

You tossed and turned in your shared bed, crying that the chamomile tea your boyfriend prepared for you did not make you sleepy at all. You stared at the small digital clock on your bedside table, the green numbers glowing 11:21 PM. You were going to meet the rest of the team at five in the morning.

You wanted to cry.

Gojo was still outside in the living room, talking to Utahime on the phone, finalizing the plans for the mission the next day. From the open door of your bedroom, you could hear the seriousness in his tone and you didn't want to interrupt him. Knowing Gojo, he would just drop whatever he was doing and tend to you, whatever you needed. Not that you complained about that.

But you were just getting desperate. Every second you spent awake was a second wasted that was supposed to be for sleeping. You had no choice but to whine about it to your boyfriend.

With your blanket wrapped around your shoulders, you made your way to the dark living room. The only light visible was the one coming from the muted television, illuminating the small space and your boyfriend's lean and slender figure on the couch, phone propped up against his ear.

He immediately noticed your form standing by the doorway, his bright blue eyes staring down at you despite the darkness of the room. Utahime was still talking on the phone, but his attention was already on you, smiling as he gestured for you to come near him.

"Hi," He whispered once you were in front of him. "Sorry, did I make you wait long? C'mere." He held your wrist and gently tugged you down towards him, and you situated yourself on his lap and rested your head on the crook of his neck. His strong arm was quick to wrap you closer to him, keeping his hold on you tight while his other hand held onto his phone.

"Utahime, I gotta go. I'll call you back in the morning." Without waiting for the teacher's response, he hung up and dropped his phone next to him with a soft thud.

"Angel," He whispered, dipping his head and kissing your forehead softly. "I thought you were already asleep."

"I can't sleep, Gojo." You grumbled frustratedly. The white-haired man could only chuckle amusedly as he fixed your position on his lap, granting him access to your neck. He began trailing soft kisses down your jaw, trailing down to your neck and shoulders. His hands gripped the edges of your blanket and wrapped them tighter around your body, trapping your arms inside.

"My poor baby," He cooed softly, nuzzling his head against your neck. "Were you waiting for me to help you sleep?"

You could only muster a grumbled sound, enough to confirm Gojo's inkling. He smiled fondly at your grumpy attitude, keeping himself from laughing lest he wanted his baby to get even angrier. No, sir, he definitely knew better.

He then stood up, carrying you with him bridal style as he made his way to your bedroom. He then gently put you down and you watched as he positioned himself behind you, leaning his back against the headboard and pulling you towards him.

"Will this do?" He whispered to you, and you turned around to meet his face before plopping yourself on top of him, your stomach against his and your head resting on his chest. You wrapped your arms around his waist as Gojo's hand reached up to push the strands of hair back from your forehead before he planted another soft kiss, the feel of his lips on your skin making you warm and fuzzy inside. It's like he has some kind of magic against you that always made you weak when he was this close to you.

Which was why you always needed him whenever you couldn't sleep.

"Sleep, doll." He whispered against your skin, rubbing slow circles on your back, eventually making you sleepy. Yes, finally. "I'll be right here with you."

“I love you,” You sighed contentedly, planting a soft kiss on his chest and you could feel the way his breath hitched at the action.

“I love you, sweet one.” He whispered back, his one arm pulling you closer to him whilst his other hand continued to rub your back soothingly, the feel of his long fingers tracing the curve of your back pulling you to sleep with every breath. “Tomorrow, I’ll be watching closely when you leave for your mission. You don’t need to worry about anything.”

#gojo x reader #jujutsu kaisen #gojo #gojo satoru #gojo one shot #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #jjk #jjk 2 #gojo satoru x reader #gojo fluff #bear writes

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mxnbi · 3 months

Text

Back for seconds

ִ ࣪✮🕷✮⋆˙ ──────────────────

ִ ࣪✮🕷✮⋆˙Bonten!Sanzu X fem!reader

ִ ࣪✮🕷✮⋆˙You just had to come back and see what else the three enthralling men had to offer tonight, and it seems like Sanzu knows just how to one up Ran

ִ ࣪✮🕷✮⋆˙ Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

ִ ࣪✮🕷✮⋆˙cw: Voyeurism, Exhibitionist, publix sex, degrading, fem reader, slight over stimulation ????, club sex, drunk sex

ִ ࣪✮🕷✮⋆˙tags: sanzu haruchiyo sanzu bonten sanzu tokrev sanzu tokyo revengers tokyo manji gang haruchiyo siblings anime anime smut sanzu x reader sanzu x fem reader sanzu smut club sex public sex sanzu tenjiku

21+ nsfw smut, minors DTI

After an excruciating long week, Saturday finally came.

You walked into the club feeling on top of the world. You knew some eyes would be locked on you, why else did you choose the skimpiest dress?

To your surprise, the same trio were seated right where they were exactly a week ago. You didn’t expect them to take your word for it.

Despite your body sending a subtle chill down your spine and down to your pussy as you recalled your sloppy session in the bathroom, you still weren’t going to give them what they want just yet.

Turning on your dangerously high heels, you strutted towards the bar to loosen yourself up for the night, adding a little sway to your hips with each step you took.

“A margarita please, thanks!”

You got comfy on the high stool, feeling your dress hike up ever so slightly but you’re not concerned about that.

Sipping away, your mind wandered off, trying to decipher a plan on approaching the same men who were shooting lustful gazes towards your direction, unbeknownst to you.

Back at their table, Sanzu and Rindou bickered as they tried to fight for your tight hole tonight.

“Ran went last week and since he’s your brother, your turn is technically over!”

Rindou — now astounded at Sanzu’s idiocy — is unable to speak for a brief moment until he finally picked his jaw off the floor.

“Sanzu, you are actually the dumbest person I’ve ever met.”

Ran chuckled into his glass while watching what looked like 2 kids fighting over a toy before letting the cold liquid gold pour into his mouth.

Sanzu hastily got up, squeezing between Rindou and the table to physically get to you first, wanting to claim you for the night.

He maniacally laughed at Rindou’s fading shouts of injustice as he skipped his way over to you like a kid who saw a candy shop.

Right when you finally mustered up the courage to approach them, you got off your chair and was immediately met with a firm chest to your face, knocking you back onto the stool.

The smell of alcohol and cigarettes tickled your nose as you looked up, seeing scar boy grinning down at you like he’s got something up his sleeve.

“Hey pretty, you’re with me tonight okay~”

He cooed at you all while still maintaining that crazy smile on his face. Sanzu leaned down, cornering you into the bar.

Unable to process whatever had just happened, you felt him peck you on the lips before he yanked you off the stool and dragged you through the club by the arm like a rag doll.

You stumbled along, trying to keep up with his long strides. Before you knew it, you’re back at their table.

“Move over dude.”

You mumbled a bunch of “Sorry”s while Sanzu pushes you through Rindou, trying not to step on his toes in the process of getting where Sanzu originally sat.

Finally sitting down, your mind raced with possible scenarios that could play out, because if you getting stuffed with their load was the end goal of tonight, you haven’t a clue as to why your sitting down.

You felt the leather seat puff up as Sanzu sank into the chair, followed by an alarming sound of a belt unbuckling.

“Watch and learn Rin.”

Sanzu smirked at the man with a glass in his hand, eyes now wandering around your body.

Your eyes widened when you felt a cold hand caress your leg before roughly spreading you wide.

Sanzu’s slim fingers rubbed circles at your pussy through the thin fabric of your thong, releasing a soft sigh from your lips.

You tried to close your legs to keep whatever shame you had left but Sanzu didn’t seem to like it.

“C’mon baby we need to give them a show!”

He hoisted you up to sit on the back rest of the chair and opened your legs once more, your pussy now on display for them to see. It was at this moment that you were glad their table was more secluded.

Sanzu left a trail of kisses from your knee to your upper thigh, all while he pushed your thong to the side and played with your slicked pussy.

You bit your lip, trying not to attract any weird stares but you surprised yourself with how turned on you are, feeling like a work of art displayed in a museum.

“I didn’t know she was this slutty.”

You locked eyes with Ran, eyebrows furrowed in pleasure, unable to retaliate as Sanzu played with your clit.

He slipped two fingers in you, finally releasing an audible moan that was just music to their ears.

Your hips twitched and writhed under Sanzu’s touch, loving the way he prodded at your walls in all directions, making sure he left his mark on every part of you.

You became wetter by the second, their intense gaze on you making you gush like a water fall.

Your hands come up to play with your tit, pulling your dress down and juggling them in your hand.

Your body jerked at the sudden quick pace of Sanzu’s fingers, now deeper than before.

You wanted to cum in front of these men so bad that your pussy ached and clenched around his digits, trying so hard to reach that high that you’ve been craving so badly for.

“Oh f-fuck yes…h-harder..”

You pushed out whatever words you can while you slowly grind against his fingers, feeling his palm graze at your puffy clit.

“God she has no shame at all, I love her.”

The three men exchanged degrading comments and laughs while your grinding escalated to sloppy riding, now bouncing on his fingers with your juices dripping down, coating the expensive red leather.

Sanzu playfully bit at your thighs, making you squirm under his touch. The way you lose all sense of yourself when he’s in you just makes his hard on even more uncomfortable in his tight pants.

Finally, when that tight knot in your stomach soon begins to snap, your legs start to lose their strength and your movements become messier.

”Oh fuck fuck yes oh my god.”

You sink down onto Sanzu’s fingers one last time as you came all over his fingers.

Trying to catch your breath, you felt a sudden emptiness as Sanzu slipped his wet fingers out before popping them in his mouth, cleaning them of your cum.

“Okay, now time for act 2!”

He pulled you down swiftly and before you knew it, you were resting his lap with your back pressed against his chest.

He felt his hand fidget beneath you, trying to free his throbbing member of his slacks.

“I’m not going to go easy okay?”

Once he aligned his leaking tip to your entrance, he plunged into you within a second, of course not giving you time to ease him in.

“Ah fuck!”

The regret you felt from that moan soon washed off as he pounded into your pussy mercilessly.

His fingers gripping onto the side of your hips, holding you in place as he fucked you so hard, you were seeing stars.

You made eye contact with the others, trying to gauge their reaction through tears welling up in your eyes, but all you could make out was their cocky smirk with a cigarette between their lips.

“You liking it pretty girl?”

Sanzu’s warm breath tickled your ear with that question, but you couldn’t string a single sentence together and simply replied with moans.

The brothers were turned on beyond imagination, just the sight of you being used like a toy just did it for them as they caved in and palmed themselves through their pants.

“Aw look baby! You’re so hot that you got them jerkin’ off!”

Forget replying, your legs could barely even support you right now if it wasn’t for Sanzu holding you up.

He groaned and sighed into your ear, a low reverberation ringing through your ears as his arrogant yet submissive moans sent a shockwave through your body.

His rough, calloused hand wrapped around your throat tightly, another point of contact to keep you still while he fucks you stupid.

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as a drop of drool made it’s way down to your chin. You were experiencing pure ecstasy.

“F-fuck Sanzu…fuck I can’t anymore…”

Your poor pussy began to feel sore after being stretched out and abused by this man, but he wasn’t done until he filled you up to the brim.

He chuckled into your ear before gathering all his strength and thrusted into you at full speed.

“Ah fuck oh my god S-sanzu wait..!”

You didn’t even have to see him to imagine that sick grin on his face right now.

You moaned out loud, not being able to have the luxury of shame anymore with your perky tits and soaking pussy on display.

Your walls gripped at his veiny cock as you feel your second high approaching.

“Ohh fuck oh my god.”

Your body weight now resting completely in the hands of Sanzu, your legs trembled as it lost it’s strength as you came a second time, covering his cock in your clear cum.

Sanzu moans obnoxiously as he paints your walls white with his load when he finally cums.

You fall limp against his chest, your own heaving up and down, trying to recover from that crazy experience.

Sanzu slowly pulls his softening cock out of you, proudly showing off his work to the others as you feel a warmth drip down your hole and between your ass cheeks.

He brings a finger down to your pussy and scoops a hefty amount of the mixture before playing with it between his fingers.

You shook your head at his actions, but too fucked out to bother. You slowly but surely got up and wiped yourself clean in preparation for your long journey home.

“We really need to make you our toy.”

Sanzu stated while he packed himself in.

Before you could finally leave, you downed another shot after fixing up your appearance and was about to walk away until you felt a hand around your arm.

You turned back to see Rindou looking up at you with the most loving yet lust filled eyes.

“Don’t wear underwear next week.”

Oh boy, you’re in for another treat.

A/N: Hiok hiok things got busy but I’m back with part 2 hehe i hope yall like it <3

@desiray562 ❤️

#anime #tokyo revenger smut #tokyo revengers #anime smut #sanzu haruchiyo #sanzu smut #sanzu x reader #tokyo revengers sanzu #tokrev sanzu #bonten sanzu #tr sanzu #sanzu x you #sanzu x y/n #bonten #tokyo revengers haruchiyo sanzu #haruchiyo sanzu x reader #haruchiyo x reader

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quest-for-pluto · 5 months

Text

Sparkles

Ao’nung x Human!Female!Reader

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Summary: You work as maintenance at base 36, a testing facility used for unethical experiments on captured local Na’vi. One day when the base’s power supply melts down and explodes, you’re caught in the flaming crossfire. In a split second decision, you also decide to free the panicking Na’vi in his glass cell.

Aged up!Aonung to 21 and reader is 20

Chapter 2: the giant blue alien in the room

You woke up to the pleasant feeling of burning agony, like you'd just skinny dipped in molten hot lava.

"G-guhhhh—" you choked out, fingers twitching and trembling against the floor as you struggled to gain some semblance of motor control. Tears burned your eyes and dripped down your cheeks. You writhed violently on your side as wave after wave of excruciating, searing pain washed over you.

Breathe, you told yourself. Just breathe through it, Y/n.

That was a lot more difficult than it sounded, especially when all you could hear was a continuous, tortured scream in your head. Your nails scraped at the cold concrete that did nothing to cool you down, trying to grasp onto something for support but only finding air between your fingers.

Never had you experienced anything so intense and all-consuming in your life. On a scale of 'Oh shit, that was a spicy cheeto' to 'Fuck I think my face is melting off', you were probably at a respectable 'I want to amputate all of my limbs and live in a freezer for the rest of my life'. Your vision dimmed and blurred as you fought to stay awake.

It was a strangled choking sound that broke you slightly out of your delirium. Your head turned slowly to see a giant blue body not too far from you, the skin on his right arm and leg raised in a pattern of angry looking blisters, but that wasn't what caught your attention. It was the frantic wheezing sounds he was making, grabbing desperately at his throat.

Somewhere in your foggy mind it occurred to you that oh yeah, that's right, his kind were not meant to breathe in your air.

Get up, Y/n, you chided yourself, squeezing your eyes shut. You need to do something.

With all of the strength you could muster, you rolled over, your vision nearly going white from the blinding pain. Slowly you staggered to your feet, pausing as a wave of nausea washed over you.

You blinked through your titling vision, eyes scanning the room for a possible solution. The only thing you could see were the supplies you had originally found, although some of them were admittedly pretty burnt now. Rebreather masks would be useless to him as well. Shit.

That left only one option. You had to figure out how to bring the native air from outside into the room.

Your eyes rose to the two, tiny windows in the room, located way higher than you could reach. You knew that every single window in base 36 was mandated to be bulletproof, so the chances of you being able to break it were thin, but—you had to try.

Staggering to your pile of supplies, you dropped to your knees, hands frantically combing through the items until they closed around the handle of the rifle you had discovered earlier. You quickly snatched a rebreather mask from the floor and secured it on your face. With a shuddering breath, you aimed the barrel at the right window, flicking off the safety and hastily pulling the trigger.

Bang.

The bullet ricocheted off of the surface, imbedding itself into the wall just over your shoulder. You inhaled sharply, turning to blink at it in shock. That was...way too close.

By now, the Na'vi had given up clawing at his throat. He laid sprawled across the floor, eyes wide and terror-filled as his chest rose and fell rapidly in short, convulsing breaths.

Damn, damn, damn. He couldn't take much more of this.

"Don't worry," you articulated the best you could, which was probably a barely understandable slur. "I won't—I won't let you die."

With renewed determination, you lifted the barrel to aim at the window again. You pulled the trigger.

Bang.

"Ah, fuck!" You cried, stumbling backwards. The bullet had grazed your burnt arm. Damn that stung like a motherfucker.

You grabbed the wound, clenching your jaw as you put pressure on it. Warm, thick blood escaped from between your fingers, trickling down your skin in rivulets.

"Okay," you breathed to yourself, supporting your injured arm with your other hand. Your whole body trembled from the pulsing pain. "You can do this, come on."

You pulled the trigger.

With a cry, you dropped the gun, clutching onto your arm in pain from the recoil.

The bullet imbedded itself in the window. You panted, watching with wide eyes as cracks began to quickly spread from the point of impact.

It shattered, pieces of glass exploding outwards and clattering onto the floor. You lowered your gaze, sighing in relief.

Your eyes flickered to the trembling form to your left. He was in terrible shape, but he hadn't passed out yet. He would survive.

You sunk carelessly to your knees, hands pressing into the floor as you struggled to catch your breath. Was it you, or was it getting suffocatingly humid in here?

Wait.

You took a deep, experimental breath, horrified to find that it didn't quite fill your lungs. Your hands quickly shot up to your mask, grasping blindly until you froze, cold realization washing over you as your thumb ran over a noticeable crack.

No, no, no. You couldn't possible be this much of an idiot.

Except you were.

You'd forgotten to properly check your own oxygen supply in your haste to make sure that the potentially homicidal alien didn't suffocate next to you. Now you were about to suffocate instead. Fantastic.

You dove back into the scattered pile of junk with desperation, your heart sinking as one by one, the rebreather masks turned up cracked or burnt. Completely unusable.

This can't be happening, you thought hysterically, a sob threatening to burst from your throat.

You could feel yourself getting lightheaded, your eyelids fluttering with the effort of staying open. It was at that moment when you finally spotted it lying on the floor, maybe a dozen or so steps away.

A completely intact mask.

Your eyes widened as you staggered forward, hand reaching out desperately. You took about two steps before your vision swam dangerously, your gaze titling quickly towards the ground.

You landed harshly on the concrete, you could tell by the way your teeth clacked and the hard jolt in your wrists, but you barely felt any pain. The only thing you could feel was the burning in your lungs and the thrumming wooziness in your head that was making everything spin.

Come on, you gritted your teeth, using the last of your strength to shimmy yourself forward, your mouth gaping open in rapid, heavy pants.

Come on....

Your vision darkened at the edges as your head collapsed against the floor, your body finally giving in to violent convulsions. You panted shallowly, your fingers twitching out to reach for something—someone.

The last thing you remembered was the feeling of your body floating steadily in the air, before relief quenched the unbearable burning in your lungs. You blinked blearily, the last of your energy drained as your eyes finally slid shut.

You dreamt of the ocean. Sea mist in your hair and salt water on your lips.

****

Sunlight shone through your lids, making you groan.

Your eyelids fluttered in irritation, before finally blinking open in defeat, giving up on the hope of getting any more sleep.

You were...not in your your room. Your eyes widened as you jolted upright in shock—or, well at least you tried to. An overwhelming throbbing pain across your chest, knees, right forearm and head knocked you flat on your back again, wheezing for air.

The second thing you noticed was the mask on your face, your breath fogging up the clear surface in small puffs. Why were you wearing a mask inside the base? What was going on?

The base collapsing in the fire. Saving the blue alien. Getting knocked unconscious by the explosion. Struggling to breathe—

Your breath shuddered as you brought your left hand up to grasp at your neck at the phantom feelings of suffocation, your fingers drifting upwards to skim the tender bruise at the back of your skull. Your heart hammered frantically in your chest.

Then, if you were here, that meant...

Your head slowly craned over to the other side of the room, a gasp leaving your throat at the sight of your new roommate slumped against the wall.

Now that you were no longer in survival mode, you could truly take in his incredible stature. It was exactly like the stories you'd been told, he had to be at least ten feet tall, if not a little more. Lucky for him though, the ceilings in the storage room were just barely high enough to accommodate him at his full height.

His skin was not the same shade of blue everywhere. You noticed that it was a lighter, sky blue color nearing the center of his body like his torso and his face, and a darker, marine blue color at the extremities. There also seemed to be a distinct stripe like pattern that you were pretty sure was natural for his species. The dark, tattoo-like markings all over his body were a different story of course. The swirling shapes and symbols extended down his biceps and climbed delicately up his neck, but seemed to be the most intricate around his left temple.

Large blue eyes suddenly snapped open, catching your stare with startling intensity. You almost scrambled backwards in a jolt of fear, but caught yourself at the last second, holding carefully still.

You didn't even dare to breathe as he narrowed his eyes at you, making no move to come closer. His right arm hung limply at his side, the blistered skin probably making it very painful to move it at all. Not that you were much better off.

If you were to take a guess, you probably had second degree burns scattered in patches across the front of your body. The only thing keeping the bile in your throat from rising any further was your immobility.

After a few tense moments his gaze flickered away, growing disinterested in your little staring competition. You felt the air escape from your lungs, your tense shoulders loosening in a discreet sigh of relief. Right, you probably didn't register as much of a threat when you were sprawled across the floor like a rag doll.

You turned your gaze back towards the ceiling, staring thoughtfully at the condensation on your mask as you contemplated your situation. The rations you'd found earlier were probably salvageable, being packed safely inside thick bags meant to withstand the elements of Pandora. As for water...well, you were just happy it rained often here. You'd have to find a way to capture the water from the tiny windows much too high for you to reach, but that was a problem for later you. As for now...

You closed your eyes, willing yourself to push up to a sitting position. Your eyes watered immediately at the intense burning pain. Okay, no, your pain tolerance wasn't that high. Gritting your teeth, you tried rolling over instead, the stretch of your skin making your jaw clench so hard you were surprised a tooth didn't crack under the pressure.

You were so concentrated on the movement that you didn't feel your stomach roiling tumultuously, or the warm bile climbing up your throat until it was too late. As you pushed yourself up on a shaky arm, your eyes widened as you felt your body violently expel your last meal. You shoved off your mask in the nick of time, turning your head to the side as gunk splattered on the floor next to you in an acrid, chunky pile.

You wiped your face with your good arm, spitting out the residue in your mouth with a grimace. Gross.

The Na'vi was eyeing you in disgust, and you were pretty sure that he would've moved away if he wasn't already sitting as far as he possibly could from you. You returned your own glare. Well, if it weren't for you, he'd currently be an extra crispy dino-sized potato chip, so he shouldn't be complaining about vomit.

Readjusting your mask, you glanced carefully around the room, your gaze sharpening on a first aid kit poking out of a ration bag. Well, patching yourself up was priority number one. You were not looking to deal with an infection on top of second degree burns.

You hissed a breath through your teeth, pushing yourself up on your elbows. Your arms shook from the strain, tears welling up in your eyes and streaming down your cheeks.

Twenty feet felt like two miles, and by the time you'd managed to drag yourself across the floor, you were pretty sure forty-five minutes had passed. The whole time, you felt a piercing stare burning into your back. You ignored it, not having the energy for another useless stare down.

Coughing wetly, you grabbed the duffel bag with trembling fingers, pulling it closer to you. It took you a few tries to pull the zipper open, but you finally managed the motion on the fourth try, freeing the white box of medical supplies from its confines.

You undid the clasps, flipping it open carefully. Bandaids, gauze, plasters, soap, alcohol wipes, sterile gloves, tweezers, antibiotic ointment, scissors, needle and thread. Perfect.

Carefully scooting yourself to a seated position and wincing at every tiny agonizing motion, you pulled on the latex gloves with a snap. A muted snarl broke you out of your concentration, making you pause.

Your alien roommate was not a happy camper, judging by his curled upper lip that exposed his giant, bat-like fangs. Okay, that was definitely not good. Those things could probably bite your leg clean off if you weren't careful.

The rumors you heard about his species still very much freaked you out, if you were being honest.

"Hey," you said lowly, raising your gloved hands. You flinched as his snarl grew more intense, eyeing the unnatural blue color on your skin in evident distrust.

Jesus Christ, you'd really done it now, hadn't you? Why couldn't you have just acted like a normal human being with self preservation instincts and only saved yourself? Now you had to deal with...whatever the hell this headache was.

"They're gloves," you emphasized helplessly, knowing that he couldn't understand you but still trying to convey meaning through your tone. "They're harmless, see?" You brought your hands down to pat your shoulders, hiding a wince at the movement. You put on your most convincing (although slightly strained), harmless smile for extra effect. A rogue muscle jumped under your eye.

His glare didn't relent but the hard line of his scowl relaxed a little. Okay rude, what did he even think you were capable of doing in this sorry ass state? Plus, if you wanted him dead you would have just let him be.

Struggling not to roll your eyes, you pointed at one of the nastier burns on your chest, where your shirt was torn to shreds and practically fusing with the reddened, bloody skin. "I'm hurt," you exaggerated the word, widening your eyes meaningfully and frowning. "This will help me heal." You pointed at the contents of the first aid kit, before pointing back at your wound with a raised brow.

The Na'vi snorted at your slowed tone, rolling his shoulder in dismissal before occupying himself with something on a distant wall.

Annoyance surged through you, but it was brief and you let it go quickly with a sigh. Whatever, it was a good thing his suffocating attention was off of you now.

He never turned his back to you though, you noticed. Even now, you could tell he was still keeping tabs on you by the tension in his shoulders.

Well, maybe it was better that he still saw you as somewhat of a threat.

Focusing back on the task at hand, you grabbed a water bottle, soap solution and some gauze, bracing yourself for how much this was going to make you want to shit yourself. And you were pretty sure that the Na'vi would muster up the last of his strength and kill you himself if that actually happened, judging by his utter disgust and displeasure at your vomit.

Wetting a piece of gauze with water and soap, you brought it gingerly to the skin over your collarbone. Striking pain erupted at the point of contact, your jaw flexing to keep in any sounds.

Patting the gauze lower, you couldn't help but screech at the utter agony of it connecting with your open wound. Fuckity fuck fuck, that hurt like bitch on steroids.

When you blinked away the confetti in your vision, you caught the Na'vi's alarmed gaze, the space where his eyebrows should have been now furrowed and pointed ears pricked up and facing you.

"Take a picture, it'll last longer," you muttered under your breath, before gritting your teeth as you forced your trembling hands to press the gauze pad over the rest of your wound. It took awhile and several rolls, but now every wound was cleaned, dressed, and if needed—stitched. Your head still throbbed uncontrollably in what was most definitely a nasty concussion, but you couldn't really ice it like you wanted to. By the time you were done, the sun had already started to set in the sky.

Your stomach rumbled in protest, and you grimaced. The intense pain had made you forget that you unfortunately needed sustenance to survive.

Time to take stock of your supply.

You dug through the duffle bag on your side, pulling out MRE kits and other field rations. You also found some plastic utensils and more water bottles and filters. Some of them were weirdly misshaped though, probably warped from the heat of the explosion.

You discarded those ones to the side with a frown. What a waste.

Ripping open an MRE pack, you mourned your microwave as you took a bite of room temperature tortellini. You just hoped that those in charge of the outer ring of base 36 came to your rescue sooner rather than later.

The rapidly familiarizing feeling of a piercing stare on you caused you to look up, your gaze locking onto narrowed baby blues. But they looked more curious than distrustful, this time.

You held up your meal pack, gesturing at him. "You want some?" You shook it in his direction meaningfully. "It's good." Lie, but he didn't need to know that.

Like most other living creatures, you were 99% sure he needed to eat to stay alive. And as far as you knew, he'd eaten nothing since you were both trapped. As long as he didn't try to eat you, you didn't mind sharing your rations. There was still quite a lot left, and you were pretty hopeful sure your fellow humans would have paid you a visit before you inevitably ran out.

His eyes widened minutely at the package, and you could see the barest predatory flash in his widening pupils, before he huffed, shooting you a disgusted look.

Your raised hand lowered as you gave him a deadpanned look. What a brat. Whatever, you shrugged, taking a quick breath as you lifted your mask. More for you then.

It was not even thirty minutes later that you realized your second dilemma.

That being, you had to tinkle. Real bad.

Goddamnit, this was embarrassing. You chanced a grimacing look at your companion, who was once again busy staring at a wall, but one ear was still turned towards you. No matter how weird this situation was, you had no desire to contribute to that factor by getting naked in front of a volatile, giant blue alien.

But you were nothing if not resourceful.

Goodbye, dignity, you sighed as you began hoisting yourself behind the pile of supplies and duffel bags you'd both stacked to take cover from the fire. You felt the Na'vi's wary gaze on you as you moved, but he hadn't felt the need to come and investigate, which you counted as a blessing.

Grabbing one of the warped water bottles, you poured out the toxic liquid on the concrete, before getting into position. Closing your eyes, you tried your hardest to pretend that you weren't trapped in a room with a strange alien man less than twenty feet away from you. You pictured your small, but warm toned bathroom, your toiletries lined neatly on the counter and a painting hanging over the towel rack.

Pretty soon you felt sweet relief as your aching bladder finally emptied its contents into the bottle. Your eyes blinked open, and you quickly cleaned yourself up, grimacing in embarrassment and disgust as you screwed back on the lid to the bottle and shoved it away from sight.

Well, that was over with.

By now, the room was bathed only in moon and starlight, the walls almost taking up a luminescence you would never be privy to on earth.

Your expression soured at the thought of your home planet. You didn't typically enjoy revisiting those memories, mostly because they were tainted with constant misery. The ashy smoke in the air, the dirt on your skin, the pangs of hunger deep into the night—you didn't want to think about it. You were far, far away from that life.

Although, you weren't quite sure if your current situation was much better.

With a wince, you scooted forward, peeking curiously around your makeshift wall of privacy. The Na'vi was curled on his side, still facing you, but now—surprisingly, his eyes had drifted shut, his expression finally peaceful in slumber. You held your breath, taking a moment to admire him.

Now that you weren't actively fearing for your life, you could really appreciate the wild beauty of this planet's native humanoid species. He looked like a mythical creature from a fantasy story, aqua blue skin shining like the glimmering shallow waters on a beach under the sunlight. You blinked a couple of times in shock, resisting the urge to rub them. No—wait, he was actually glowing.

At first you had thought it was the moonlight shining on his skin, but he seemed to be generating his own variation of bioluminescence instead. A beacon of otherworldly beauty, just like the rest of Pandora.

Incredible, you thought to yourself in awe, unable to look away. Your fingers itched with the sudden urge to start sketching him.

Suddenly, a pale, opalescent eye snapped open, glaring at you furiously. You yelped, almost falling backwards on your elbows.

His lip curled to reveal a snarl, his ears pinning down flat against his head in warning and his thick tail whipping restlessly in the air. The message was clear: mind your own business before I come over there and gouge your tiny eyes out. I'll do it—

"Okay, okay," you sighed, raising your hands in surrender. "I get it, I'm leaving."

You scooted away, back into your little alcove of duffel bags and random burnt junk. Lowering yourself onto the fluffiest looking one, you sighed, squirming uncomfortably as you stared at the scorched ceiling.

It didn't take long before your blinks became heavier and more frequent, your eyelids lowering more with each one. It seemed you were more exhausted that you thought.

When your breathing finally evened out, it was to the distinct feeling of a strong, steady heartbeat thrumming beneath you.

************

Y'all, I had way too much fun writing Ao'nung's pissy attitude XD. I can't picture his aggressive side eye without cracking up. Don't worry though, he'll eventually come around ;)

MRE: Meals ready to eat. Packaged meals meant for quick, convenient consumption. Used in the military.

If you’re not in the taglist already and you’d like to be, just let me know in the comments and I’ll tag you in the next part :)

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