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luveline · 5 months

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𝐛𝐲 𝐭𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬 | 𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐮𝐬 𝐥𝐮𝐩𝐢𝐧

remus’ touch after a long night prompts a tired confession (and a slew of clumsy kisses).

requested here. modern au. fem!reader, 3.6k.

˚‧꒰ა ✮ ໒꒱‧˚

“I'm going to bed,” Sirius mumbles, scratching at his eyes as he gets up. “Don't let her sleep in her makeup. She'll get an eye infection.”

Your eyes are getting sore, but it's hardly Remus' responsibility to make sure you wash your face tonight, nor Sirius’ to remind you. “I'm a big girl.”

Sirius sends you a smile, ignoring your chiding. “Goodnight, my loves,” he says, waving you both away as he heads out of the living room and up the stairs.

“Notice how he didn't do his dishes?” Remus asks, shifting beside you.

He's sitting as he tends to, slouched in a way that can't be good for his back in the long run but is clearly comfortable short term. His chin is on his chest, his legs kicked out under the coffee table, which is decorated by the casualties of the night. Sirius’ dinner plate, Remus’ mug, James’ rarely used handheld console. He'd been playing a cutesy farming sim before he said goodnight an hour ago. Sirius stayed to mess with James’ crops and eat a late supper. You're surprised it took him as long as it did to admit defeat.

“What time is it?” you ask.

You're laying on the sofa with your socked feet tucked behind Remus’ back, of which he's yet to complain. His elbow brushes your shin as he brings up his arm. “Nearly one in the morning, now,” he reads from his watch. “Let's go to bed too, yeah?”

“I don't want to.” You turn your face into the pillow behind your neck.

“Me neither,” Remus says, dropping his hand on your knee.

You watch another twenty minutes of TV together failing to summon the energy to stand, but the want for a glass of water grows too big. Your head throbs as you get up, offering your hands to the pretzel that is your favourite housemate.

Remus turns off the TV and lights. You lock the front door. He carries the dirty dishes to the kitchen and you fill up two glasses of water to take with you. It's all so… regular. A routine you share nearly every night, only to climb into your two separate beds.

He ushers you out of the kitchen and down the hallway with his hand behind your shoulders, his touch a phantom as you ascend the stairs.

You're silent beside the creak of the old wood, too tired to speak. Remus is similarly quiet, though he does whisper, “Watch,” when you nearly kick the box of Halloween decorations waiting to be taken up into the attic.

You leave your water on the towel box in the alcove and dance around one another in the bathroom. Sirius’ toothbrush lays on the sink still wet, but otherwise there's no signs of him.

You're feeling very, very tired. You hadn't realised how bad it was until you're putting your toothbrush in your mouth, leant up against the window sill, a slot of cold air seeping in from the dark outside. Your eyes shutter closed. The scrubbing sound of Remus brushing his teeth is almost lulling.

He swills out his mouth and washes his brush. “Here,” he says gently. You open your eyes just enough to see him beckoning you forward. “Dove, your necklace.”

“Oh. Thanks.” You turn your back to him.

His fingers are damp and cool on your skin as he unclasps your necklace. He often takes it off for you. It's one of the things you'll miss when you guys aren't living together anymore, the slow meander to his bedroom, the wood of his door jam on your cheek as you lean against it and give him a hopeful smile. Sometimes he's awake, reading a novel on his side in bed or listening to music at his desk, other times he's sleeping. On those occasions you spend too long lingering, stolen seconds spent staring at the rise and fall of his shoulder.

“Thank you,” you say as he puts your necklace in the jewellery dish. It comes out missing vowels, lips stuck together as though honeyed.

You spit pathetically in the sink, rinse your brush, and consider sitting down. “I'm tired,” you whine, wiping your lips.

“I know,” Remus says, giving you a fond nudge. “Just wash your face and get on with it.”

“You first. I'm going to nap standing up for a bit.”

He puts as much of his hair behind his ears as he can and turns on the tap. This is just as familiar as brushing your teeth together. It's not quite as bad as watching James Perfect Skin Potter wash his face with bar soap, but you have to admit that Remus’ eight-nine pence face soap hurts your heart. He washes it off, pats his face dry, and takes the small bottle of bio oil out of the medicine cabinet to pipette onto his pinky finger. “Wash your face,” he says, smoothing the oil into his scars one by one.

You shake your head. “M'gonna do it in the morning.”

“That's why your eye was swollen a few weeks ago. You know yourself you won't.”

“I might,” you say, letting out a big breath as you rub your sore eyes even sorer, “I'm too tired.”

“Can you sit up, at least?”

“No.” Remus takes you by the shoulders and forces you to sit on the edge of the bath. “Aggressive?”

“Don't fall in,” he says, cupping your cheek briefly as if to make sure you've heard.

You are hearing him, seeing him, even feeling the immensity of his touch, but you're tired, and you know you can let yourself relax completely with him. You'd be the same with James or Sirius, though neither of them could have your head feeling so dizzyingly light from a single touch as Remus can. You probably wouldn't let them persuade you into this, either, tilting your head back to watch through blurry vision as Remus soaks a cotton round in your facial oil.

“Close your eyes,” he says.

“Was that a dracula impression?”

“I command you.”

You close your eyes. The queasy feeling of oil drags against your lids as Remus wipes them, loosening the stiff tubes of mascara that coat your lashes. It's not a short process because he's very, very gentle, holding your face delicately as though you're a flower in need of coddling, and him the sun. It's the only metaphor that would ever make sense for you and Remus; he's like the sun even if it goes against every statement he's ever made about himself, or anyone else has, for that matter. People think he's a moody, sarcastic boy, and he is, but he's also a vestibule of sweetness, softness, and warmth. The kind of heat you'd only ever feel kissing your skin under the summer sun. But more than that, he's the relief that follows when the clouds come out.

And his hands are all over you. Your head gets heavier by the minute, eased into dozing by his touch and quiet tones. “We're almost done. I'm gonna have to carry you to bed at this rate.”

“I'm going to miss this so much one day,” you say. It's easier to admit when you're not looking at him.

Remus turns on the tap. Hot water runs, you can tell by the sound as strange as it seems, and he wrings the dirtied cotton round before replacing it with a new one. He wets it, bringing it just that touch too hot to your cheeks to wipe you down. “What are you going to miss, dove?”

“Us. You. I'm going to miss you.”

“Where are you going?”

“Nowhere, but one day I will be. James will finally have had enough of us and I'll,” —you swallow around nothing as a rivulet of water runs down your cheek, a cooling tear from the cotton round— “have to move out and we'll never see each other anymore.”

“Don't be silly, you're not going anywhere.”

“It's not about the going,” you murmur, peeling your eyes open tentatively as his dabbing follows down your cheek to your neck. “I miss you sometimes and we still live together. I can't imagine how much I'll miss you…”

Remus puts the cotton round aside. He takes your face into his hand, and suddenly his touch feels raw, nothing like it had moments ago. Because Remus would wash your makeup off for you any day of the week, but his looking at you like this, so unshielded and unabashed, is a rarity.

“You won't have to miss me. Even if we did move away from each other, I wouldn't let it be that far.”

“Friends move away all the time. We don't speak to half the people we knew at school.”

“I only really knew you and the boys,” he says. It isn't true but it is at the same time. Together, you'd been a happy lot, but your current housemates are the ones you'd known. “And see? We're still together.”

“But for how long?” you ask.

Remus brings his second hand, holding your face entirely. He covers your cheeks, index fingers sliding slowly under your ears. He's exceedingly gentle, and his eyes are soft. He holds you like you're made of glass, like you could break under a hint of pressure. Slowly, he tilts his head to the side as though he might lean in for a kiss. Maybe he doesn't know he's doing it, but Remus is a very purposeful soul. He'd do much worse to wind you up if you wanted him to.

You sober up. It's like he has caffeine in his palms.

“You want to go where I'm going, is that it?” he asks quietly.

“Yeah,” you say, barely say, voice shame-facedly weak. Is he asking what you think he is?

“Do you want to start now?”

You breathe out as one of his hands shifts down your jaw. “Yeah, I… I want to start now.”

“Okay, dove. Then close your eyes again.”

You hold his gaze for a second that feels infinitely long and short at once, your heart racing. Clarity has returned, a thrust into wakefulness even if your fatigue ties knots around your ankles. You look at him in his late night glory, his scars shining a pink-white like the petals of a young peony flower, and you know it's happening now.

You shut your eyes.

He steps closer, though the bath you're perched on is low, and he has to bend a considerable amount to reach you. The weight of his hands on you doesn't change, not even as he grows near enough to sense the heat of his breath against your lips. It's his nose that makes first contact as it slides against yours, and then his forehead presses down into you, his lips noticeably absent. Each contiguity between you thrums.

A pit opens in your chest, cleaved by his voice as he says, “I'm going to kiss you, okay? S'that what you want?”

Your hands don't feel like your own. Under the sickening nervousness twining its way through your ribs, you're excited. You're smiling, your voice shaped by it. “Yeah. It's what I want,” you say.

“Good. It's what I've wanted for a while��” while pressed into your lips, all shaken up by an emotion you've never heard him speak with. He kisses you and you're frozen, and he waits and waits and pulls away to push back in. You remember yourself then, responding to his wading with some pressure of your own. Sparked back to life.

It's so strange. It doesn't feel real. Remus Lupin kisses you heated and hard for just long enough to feel it in your teeth before he pulls away. “Sorry,” he murmurs, his fingertip running down your cheek, following that same path as your earlier rivulet. To think he saw it, really saw it, locked it away to remember and trace into your skin now… maybe he's seen much more of you than you realised all along.

“Will you do it again?” you say under your breath.

Remus must hear the thread of insecurity running through your question; you're afraid he'll say no, but he strokes your cheek again with that unfathomable softness and says, “Yeah, dove, of course I will.”

“Do you want to?”

And that's less insecurity and more selfishness, wanting the confession. He hears that, too.

“I want to kiss you more than I've ever wanted anything,” he says, eye to eye with you, your head tipped up and your heart in your throat, twitching and fizzling like a firecracker. “Yeah? And all that missing me you've been doing? All your worrying? You don't need to do that. You've never needed to do that–”

“I just never thought you liked me like that.” You and Remus aren't new to one another. “You've been the same since the day we met.”

Remus’ hands get a little more solid where he's holding you. “Dove. Dove, are you mad?”

“Remus–”

“Maybe I have been the same, but did you really not notice that I–” He squeezes your cheeks playfully, almost in disbelief. “If you want me, I'm here. I'm not going anywhere without you. You're not going anywhere without me.”

“So you like me?”

“Yes,” he says, his eyebrows pinched together at the starts. “Of course I do.” He laughs. “That's what I'm trying to tell you.”

“Oh,” you say, lifting your head.

Remus shuts his eyes a millisecond before you shut your own and kisses you again. The second round is softer, his smile to yours and struggling to find purchase. His breath huffs out in a minty laugh, shockwaves through your mouth.

“Stop laughing,” he breathes, his hands falling to your neck, your shoulders.

“You first.”

Your lips part under his, a split-second of contact. He yanks away before things can get too heavy, and you're glad he does, but for a moment you feel the loss like a wave of vertigo.

“Sorry, I'm going too fast, and you're tired.” His touch is ticklish behind your shoulder.

“It's okay. Maybe it is a bit fast, but I'm not tired anymore,” you confess.

Remus hugs you, cementing every feeling for him you have as he wraps his arms around you from over your shoulders, a deft hand cupped behind your neck. “That's not true. I can feel your back shaking. Let's go to bed.”

“After that?”

“What, are you worried it won't have happened in the morning?” he asks genuinely.

You go limp in his arms as he takes your weight against his chest. Not worried, but rather not sure you can be away from him so soon. You ask him in a whisper if you can come and sit with him, not to sleep with him, not to do anything else, and he whispers back, Anything you want. You both entertain the lie that you won't fall asleep in his bed.

—

Remus tenses as he hears the scuffling sounds of movement downstairs. It takes a train of thought awakening for him to realise it's only James, rising early as usual to put on a load of washing and prepare bits for lunch before he goes off for training. He can see him in his mind's eye if he tries, his friend dressed in the red and white rugby uniform, green socks up over his calves and white cleats scrubbed pristine for another ruck in the mud.

Remus’ relaxes, stretching out in bed until his hand bumps into something rigid.

He flinches.

You're laying on the mattress beside him, your head slipped off of the pillows and your arm tucked beneath you. It doesn't look comfortable, and if it were any other morning he'd pull it straight for you, but.

I kissed you, he thinks to himself, as though talking to you. He turns away from you until his back clicks and alleviates the ache in his hips, though he has to settle eventually, back on his back, no way of ignoring you. He doesn't want to ignore you. The opposite —why are you so far away? Can he hold you?

What are the rules here?

Kissing… not dating… You're here in his bed, you'd asked to stay.

He takes your hand and pulls at your arm. Still sleeping, you mumble and move onto your back, releasing the pressure on your shoulder as he pulls you toward his chest. Your face is impassive, lax in sleep.

He should let you sleep.

“Dove,” he says, stroking up the length of your arm.

“Mm?” you hum.

“I need to ask you something.”

You twitch awake with a small cough. Your eyes are red with a lack of sleep as you open them, blinking, and he wishes stupidly that he could make it better. He makes a sympathetic sound for want of more to do.

“Why have you woken me up?” you ask, blinking at him. You gather that there's nothing urgent happening and push your face into his shoulder, practically nuzzling him. “It's Saturday.”

“I just need to ask you something.”

“So ask me,” you encourage through your sleepiness.

The washing machine whirs downstairs. It’s an old machine that you often joke is taking off into orbit during the final spin, loud as anything. He can barely hear your sluggish breathing underneath it, but he can't miss the catch in it after he asks, “Can I be your boyfriend?”

It's not the catch he's expecting. You laugh and readjust, wrapping your arms around him from the side and kissing the side of his neck clumsily. “Y'u asked me last night,” you say in a borderless run-on, sounding about as dopily in love as he's ever heard you.

He thinks about it. Yes, he did, after he'd kissed you many more times than he should've and curled up in bed with you, hands held loosely beneath the blankets. He remembers the question, the answer. The last kiss that followed, and you falling asleep beside him.

“I need a coffee,” he says, encouraging your head back so he can kiss your temple.

“No, you need to sleep more with me. And maybe kiss me again. If you want to.”

Sleeping isn't half as interesting as kissing you. He slots his nose against yours and languishes in the feeling of your lips, wondering if he's having a false start. He could still be dreaming. It would make sense.

The door clatters open with a curse. James stands in the doorway with a folded pile of Remus' washing from the radiators in his arms, an apology on his lips, “Sorry, mate, the door got away from– oh my god. Oh my god?”

Remus isn't an overly shy guy but he can't deal with this. “For fuck's sake,” he mutters, dropping his face into your shoulder. Your arm wraps under his neck, fingers splayed across his cheek.

“James–” you begin, resigned to your fate.

“This is flat-cest. This is the cardinal sin.”

“We don't live in a flat,” Remus says.

“That makes it worse. You can't even blame close quarters.” Remus peeks up to watch James in the doorway, still clinging to Remus’ washing, pure shock curdling his features. He shakes his head. “I'm telling Sirius.”

“Please don't!” you say.

You slump back into the pillows as James leaves anyways.

Remus hugs your soft abdomen. “Don't worry,” he says.

“I guess it's a good thing you've already asked me out,” you say.

“Why, what can they do?” Remus asks, wondering if he's allowed to put his face on your chest or if that's too forward. You rake a hand through his hair and encourage him forward, to his delight.

Frantic words. You and Remus loved up in bed despite it.

“I'm chucking them out!”

“James, they've been seeing for weeks. Can I go back to sleep?”

“What?!”

You grumble into his hair. “That's not even true… Does everyone know, then? That I liked you?”

Remus thinks of the shadow of you in the doorway, that sheepish smile you send his way before you ask him to unclasp your necklace before bed, or your face as he’d wiped the sooty stain of mascara from your cheek last night, half in love with him as you fell asleep in his palm.

“I don't think so, lovely,” he comforts. “Don't worry about it. We'll clear it up at lunch time. James isn't even mad, he's just sulking thinking we didn't tell him.”

“How could you not tell me?” James asks on cue, rounding the door again, arms ever tighter around the bundle of Remus’ clothes. He assumes it's being kept hostage. “I thought we were best mates.”

“James,” you say softly, all sympathy.

Remus likes the feeling of your voice under his ear, and your slightly too-quick heartbeat. He could fall asleep here and now if it weren't for the company.

“It's new,” you're saying, softness melded to a sweet pride. “Okay? I've barely told Remus how I feel, of course I was going to tell you. We were only talking about it last night. It really hasn't been weeks, Sirius is a stirrer.”

Remus pulls the covers up over your heads and climbs on top of you in a rush, demanding that the both of you be left alone, to James’ great annoyance but your delight, your laughter loud in the shell of his ear. Your chest shakes with it beneath him.

A great wad of fabric hits him in the legs. “Twats,” James says, seemingly stalking off.

Your whisper sends shivers down his spine. “We're alone again. Do you have anything else to ask me while you're too tired to remember?” you tease.

There's not a chance in the world that Remus would ever forget this.

˚‧꒰ა ✮ ໒꒱‧˚

thanks for reading!! I really hope you enjoyed, it's been a little bit since I wrote for remus like this so I was actually a bit nervous and I hope it's okay :D <3

#remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x fem!reader #remus lupin fluff #remus lupin x you #remus lupin x y/n #marauders era #remus x reader #remus x you #marauders #remus lupin drabble #remus lupin blurb #marauders x reader #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin fanfic #remus lupin fanfiction #the marauders

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lilacliquors · 18 days

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another late easter special, but have some easter spice, cod men edition! hopefully these read as gender neutral as possible <3

you wear 🐰bunny ears🐰 on easter headcanons ( tf 141, alejandro, and graves )

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ GHOST

to say he's surprised is an understatement. sure, you two have your fun, but you've never really dressed up for him in any way before

so seeing you in bunny ears, a crop top, and shorts is a very welcome sight

he's gentle with you when he reaches you, his calloused hands skimming over the softness of the bunny ears, and you see a gentle smile on his lips

'you look absolutely adorable, you know that?' he asks you, his voice soft, yet raspy. and it's true, you're the most beautiful creature he's ever seen

and he's quick to show you, leading you to the bed and laying you on it, on full display for him

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ SOAP

soap thought he had the world in the palm of his hand the one halloween you wore the cat ears, but this...

he practically pounces on you the second he sees you, chuckling as the bunny ears bounce and the band covers your eyes for a brief moment

'aye, let's fix those up a bit, shall we?' he chuckles, gently adjusting them back onto your head as you laugh

his lips are on yours in an instant, his hands roaming your body, feeling you squirm under his touch.

'how about we get you in a cottontail next year, hm?' he teases, one hand gripping your rear. and that's when you knew you'd woken an animal in him

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ GAZ

'oh, fuckin' hell...' he breathes when he sees you. you're laying in your bed, your bedroom eyes on full display, as well as the rest of you

you're in the skimpiest lingerie you could find, pink to match the bunny ears on your head, and gaz is hooked

he walks to you in a trance, his eyes never leaving your body, and he crawls on top of you slowly and steadily

'all for me? you shouldn't have...' he purrs, his fingers toying with the straps of the lingerie

'all for you,' you whisper back, and you pull him in for a kiss, which he eagerly returns, ready to get your night started

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ PRICE

price wouldn't consider himself a religious man, but when he saw you, he swore he saw god, maybe even heard a chorus of angels in the background

you looked so perfect, opening the door to him in cute little bunny ears, and one of his shirts. nothing else covering you

'see, i would have gotten the hat, too. but i would never cut ear holes in it,' you tease, and he lets out a breathy chuckle as his hands fall to your hips

'that would have gotten you in trouble, yeah...' he murmurs, still in a daze as his eyes roamed over you

from that point on, you're his little bunny, and he makes sure to remind you of it every second of every day, when he can

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ ALEJANDRO

the only thing that leaves his lips the moment he sees you is your name, and it's barely above a whisper

you'd worn lingerie for him before, but never had you made yourself look so ... so sexy and vulnerable, and it's all for his eyes, and his eyes alone

when he reaches you, he can't bring himself to take anything off of you. he just wants to look at you, like the work of art you are

when he does finally get his hands on you, he's gentle, treating you like porcelain that could shatter at any moment

it's the most magical night of your life, funnily enough. he made you see stars, unlike any other time you made love, and you made a mental note to treat him to this more often

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ GRAVES

'well, look at what we have here...' his voice is soft, and there's a smirk on his lips as he spots you in white bunny ears and matching white lingerie

but despite the smirk on his lips, his eyes are full of a mix of love and lust, just taking in how you look, admiring your body and everything about it

he's drawn to you like a magnet, his arms wrap around your waist and his hands fall to your bottom, gripping it and pushing you against him

'it can be dangerous for a little lost bunny, if they're not careful," he whispers, giving your ass a squeeze

that night, he simply ravages you, unable to keep his hands to himself. and he sincerely hopes there'll be more nights like this in the future

#ghost x reader #soap x reader #gaz x reader #john price x reader #phillip graves x reader #alejandro vargas x reader #ghost mw2 smut #soap smut #gaz smut #john price smut #phillip graves smut #alejandro vargas smut #tf 141 x reader #cod x reader #dawn.writes #lilacliquors

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iwaasfairy · 6 months

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┌─ “ ! „ CADAVER

tw. wound fucking, blood, gore, don’t read this if you’re squeamish!!, somnophilia, oral, noncon, megumi is delusional in this, yandere, belly bulge but gross! , cannibalistic thoughts wordcount. 6.4k

a/n. this one,,, was me pushing myself to just go buck wild, and channel my inner junji, and i think i got somewhere with it... a select few of you will understand me when i say that ,, this is like my love letter to megumi fr ♡ like i said though, this one might be the one that has people a little yucked out but! it's basically my halloween fic, for the spooky month

fushiguro megumi x fem!reader

When the rattling of the stretcher finally quiets in the halls and the rising rate of adrenaline starts to flatten out, Megumi’s lost on what to do. Any of the other sorcerers can’t decide what the next step is either, it seems. Yuji with his back pressed against the glass and staring off into the empty part of the hall they just came from, and principal Yaga a stern quietness and arms crossed. Ieiri-san will do her best work today of any days if there’s anything to be done about it, but Megumi can tell. That uncertainty hangs over all of them as the faint breathing of a collapsed body grows more pitched and panicked.

Megumi always sort of hated you. He didn’t like you from the second he first met you, and it just grew and grew and grew from there. He hates your stupid demeanor with your higher-than-thou morals and your sky-high milestones and that grin that could make even the coldest heart split in two. It doesn’t escape him that this is the same reason he always did enjoy Maki, but you were — more recognizable to him, and yet somehow much further away.

He always hated the way he’d catch himself watching the soft motion of your lashes, or how your mouth would form words, the heat that would carry color to your face. He always hated the quiet moments you’d sit by his side, rattling his heart out of his chest and laughing at him for his hot cheeks; and he always hated how you’d be the thought on his mind right after he’d made sure his own limbs hadn’t yet been blown to bits. But standing with his hands covered in a coating of blood that isn’t his, dripping onto the panes of the old flooring, he wonders what that hatred ever really got him. It never helped him understand you better, that for someone so alike himself, you were so much better at everything.

His chest is rising and falling too fast.

Gojo’s too late, always is when it comes down to the wire, Megumi thinks as the lankier man rushes through and stops a few feet away from them. Yaga’s brow pinches, before he lifts his head the slightest bit to acknowledge the white blond. “What’s the status,” Gojo has to ask, and before he has another conscious thought, Megumi’s furiously rubbing his hands over his sweater in an attempt to get the blood off while his teeth clack with how hard he’s clenching them. There’s a thickness between his ears that makes everything sound far off. The blood stains his fingers the more he rubs, and his face gets hotter and hotter as it lasts.

But he thinks he hears the principal explain.

How you had been pinned down and knocked clean out, head bashed against the concrete pillars. How Megumi had been too busy trying and failing to keep the uglier curse from blasting you both to shit, to notice. How the other special grade had picked you up by the neck and unceremoniously shoved something into your mouth and pushed until it went down your throat - until you started convulsing, spitting out blood and bile before he could reach you. Megumi hadn’t taken the time to look then, but he knows now what it was, slimy, decaying contents of a little vial that had gone missing a few months ago.

“The girl must’ve been a real good match.” Yaga pushes his fingers to his brow, as if forcibly trying to push the frown down. “Ieiri’s doing what she can.” It doesn’t make any of them feel better when Gojo clicks his tongue and aims his eyes at the door, before casting a quick glance at Megumi under thick, blond lashes. He wants to puke. He’d shoved his fingers down your throat for what felt like hours, trying desperately to get you to throw up the curse. Had carried you all the way back while you were sobbing and wailing in pain. Nothing.

If even the worst case repeats itself, they’ll have another incarnation on their hands, and the noose will be tightened around your throat. Yuji must have already realized this, because he’s yet to say anything since you’d been tied onto the stretcher with blood pouring out of your nose and ears and coughing up grime. Megumi’s not even sure if Ieiri would hesitate to put you down without a second warning before it gets to the same turning point. And he is pissed. At the situation, his friends, himself, you. He’s so angry his hands shake, and so angry tears start stinging behind his eyes, feeling like any motion might cause him to throw up. He hates you.

Your chest’s rising with big motions up and down, up and down, as you drum your feet on his bedsheets like an excited rabbit. Megumi grunts, snatches the book from your hands and tosses it back down with the others that were not-so-neatly stacked on his desk. Your shape on his bed makes a dent in his mind that he’ll have to keep replaying over and over when he closes his eyes, and it has a frown pulling his eyebrows down automatically. “So grumpy,” you yawn, and also roll over onto your stomach to tuck your legs to your core, lifting one hand to rest your face into it.

“This isn’t your room.”

“Might as well be,” you giggle back, and he watches for a moment as your hair falls along your shoulders in a gentle brush, making you look even more enchanting. You’re soft and parts of you are shiny like silk, seemingly oozing your rosy, peachy aura all over his stuff. You catch his eyes for just a few breaths, still rising your chest too distractingly, before you push yourself up and slide off the bed to walk up to him. He pivots to thumb through the notes on his desk again, to be farther away from your face probably, and his shoulders rise into an uncomfortable pinch when you approach, feet patting on his floor. “Megumi.” You say his name with a clear pout.

Then heat covers his skin at the base of his throat and he freezes, letting the way you drag your soft lips over his pulse fill him up entirely. His hands shake too hard to keep a grip on the paper, so he spins you around and shoves you back against the desk as you hiss at the sudden painful grip, his fist wrapped into the collar of your shirt. “I already told you to stop doing that.” He hisses, and your eyes are wide and glittering like diamonds, beautiful color peering up at him.

“But you like it when I do that,” you whisper back ever so softly, and his head feels like it’s splitting at the seams, cracking his skull under a non-escapable pressure. He can’t think, can’t even eat normally without the ghost of you hanging over him and shaking him up. It’s unbearable even when you’re not around. His fist unclenches from the flimsy fabric to instead grip your chin with his thumb, and his heart bangs against his ribcage harder than can be normal. Harder than is healthy. A little thought in the back of his skull begs to push. Just once, deny you from digging your claws deeper into him— but he’s already melted to your shape before he can blink.

His face drops like you’re magnetic, thighs pushing you further into the desk and also into him; and it’s truly embarrassing that his hands are still shaking like they do. You lean in when he does, and let your lips meet his hungry, treacherous mouth, other hand sliding to your waist to pull you closer. Your tongue brushes his and he implodes inside, and he swears it hurts to be this close to you.

Not that you care. Your arms wind around his neck to pull him even closer, and his blood feels like it’s boiling under his skin.

He finds himself wandering back to the quieter wing of the school when the sun’s already dipped far past the horizon, and the cold starts picking up. He’s dragging his feet, so he won’t fucking rush back to the room he finds himself thinking about so fast he stumbles. He’s glaring at the patterns in the floorboards so he doesn’t cry. You’re stable- quiet puffs of air escaping your nose every few seconds, but you’re still under surveillance. As far as the clans are concerned, they’ll put something sharp between your eyes sooner rather than later, before whatever’s slumbering inside you wakes up. But Gojo’s fighting for you. It makes him grimace to think about.

Knocking his knuckles onto the doorframe, he enters the dimly lit room. Nanami doesn’t stand when he spots him, but does uncross his legs as he takes a deep breath. Neither of them speak for a while, and the dark haired man takes that time to run his eyes over you. You’re not as dirty as you were when you first got back, shivering and shaking. You’re no longer dripping with blood, though he’s sure if he were to look close enough, he’d still be able to see flecks of it between your cracked lips. As he walks up, he finds himself thinking that you look strangely peaceful, and that doesn’t seem entirely right.

Save for the bloody mark that seems branded into your forehead, you look like you’re quietly sleeping on the metal slab that supports your body. After all the pain and agony you’ve caused in him, sleepless nights and long days of wondering, hoping you’d be okay. Why is it that he’s the one affected by you? Why is it that he’s the one who’s going to have to say goodbye again? He stares at your unmoving form as if that’ll give him an answer, but it doesn’t. And the pit in his stomach swells again. He’s just so angry all the time. Megumi breathes out. “It’s my turn to take watch for a while.”

“You’re early,” Nanami’s deep baritone chastises, but he gets up from the seat anyway. He smooths out the wrinkles in his suit, before slowly placing a hand on the other’s shoulder. The weight is heavy, and somehow doesn’t soothe him at all. But there’s an attempt, he guesses. He’s still not entirely sure why everyone is looking at him like he’s the one who needs it most, broken and disheveled and mourning. He’s been able to finish his tasks like everyone else has, and he can banish the thought of you when he’s supposed to focus on work— at least, mostly. He doesn’t need the fucking pity. “Want some coffee? Or green tea?” Nanami asks, letting his hand slide off when Megumi shrugs.

“No. I’m okay.”

The older man seems to hesitate, simply nodding when he walks past. Before closing the door behind him, he once again clears his voice, and Megumi turns over his shoulder. The blond has this look in his eyes, of pity, as he talks. “Megumi, there’s a chance she pulls through.” Why again - that fucking pity? “Don’t give up.” Though it makes him tingle with an unbearable sort of itch deep under the skin, he grits his teeth, and his brain’s hot and irritated when he responds.

“I wasn’t going to.” Nanami doesn’t seem to believe him, but still softly slides the door closed behind him, and when the footsteps grow softer and softer, Megumi allows for a second to collect himself. He braces his hands onto the metal as he leans in, close enough to feel just the slightest bit of your warmth on his fingers, and see the way you’re still breathing, though shallow, too faint for his liking. His brows pinch when he finds himself with his forehead pressed to your stomach, hunched over like he’s praying at your shrine or something. But he can’t help it.

As much time as he spent beside you with a frown on his face, it never feels enough. He can’t stay away, like it’s an involuntary thing— you leave him no choice in the matter. Even here in the darkness, whining softly into your wheezed breaths, it isn’t enough to be beside you. He can’t do anything from here at your bedside; and that uselessness makes him feel even more uneasy. He needs to be closer to you. Wants to be so close you two get stuck together and melt together like an inseparable entity, would want to crawl inside you if he could.

His nose presses into the clean shirt that smells like your laundry, as he clenches his fists so hard along the table edge they start to ache. His eyes are pressed closed tight when he allows him just a second to nose below your sternum, and that uncomfortable stinging sensation comes back to his eyes. “Fucking idiot,” his lips brush against your covered skin, taking in the lack of heat, of your smell and the way you sounded with his face buried there, “I didn’t mean it.”

“Aw, ow, ow, Megumi~” You pout with a pitched whine as his hand stays screwed around your knee for a little longer, keeping you trapped under his heavier, taller body so that you start wiggling. Your head falls back against his arm, and you lean to press a few kisses to his wrist that’s holding your own to the floor. “Be more gentle.” You pout when you pull back and flash him that fucking look that sends icy shivers down his spine, and exactly nothing else. “You can be gentle, can’t you?” Every other part of him flushes with heat under your doe-eyed, pitiful look, definitely when you start wiggling out of his grasp like you’re suddenly over the game.

You started it. He wouldn’t put himself in your range on purpose. When you’re about halfway out from under his crouched form, you sit up to be face to face; and you brush your hand past his ear, down his jaw and neck and trail his collarbones, all places he’s convinced are now stained a bright, obnoxious pink from his flush. You let your fingers linger when you tilt your head aside a bit so you can slot your lips over his into a sweet, little kiss, and you pull your lips into another pout. “Swear you’re doing it to hurt me sometimes. I’m never trying to hurt you, you know.” A few strands of hair fall over your eye when you sit below him, and he has to fight every single muscle in his body not to push it back for you.

He wants to see your eyes. He wants you to see him like this, pinned under you like the attraction you render him as— his body collapses on top of you as you start giggling all fucking cutely, and his heart races more than it ever has. Your heartbeat drums into his face when he buries it into your softness, chest against his cheek, too long for his own sanity before he drags himself off you. And it is a drag. His entire body starts feeling sluggish when you’re this close to him, close enough to drown himself in your scent. He won’t ever say it, but that scent gets him hard and awfully mellow all at once, his cock coming to life in his pants before he’s moving.

You look happy. Your eyes are those bright, gentle colors that rain down on him, and your lips are quirked into a soft smile, you must know what you’re doing to him. Setting him up for failure again. He huffs and pushes himself onto his back instead, knocking his head to the floor while you’re moving from the rug - splaying your knees either side of him before you nuzzle right back on top of his chest and make it even harder to get a breath, let alone catch it. He’s sure he’s panting a little when you leave your warmth draped all over him, and you don’t do anything other than be there.

His arms are still on the floor, his body rigid under you, but you’re softly giggling into his peck before he frowns down at you again when you catch his eyes. “What?”

“Your heart is beating super fast,” you admit, not proud, not gloating - just stating the fact, and heat overtakes his neck now too. Instead of letting you wind him up any further, he bucks you off and switches positions again, now with your two wrists caught in his hands as you squeak with the ache that probably lodges in your back.

“Can you get off of me?” He sits back on his feet, not letting go of your hands yet, before your eyes flutter and you grab him back. Well, brush your fingers over the skin you can reach, pawing at him just enough to tickle. “What’s with you today?” he bites back, and also snatches his hands back to escape the onslaught of feelings that wash over him. You don’t sit up this time, and from the tilt of your head, you’re considering your answer for a while before you speak out.

“Do you like me, Megumi?” Fuck. His room seems to collapse in on itself. Or, maybe it’s his body— because he gets a little more short of breath, and his thoughts short circuit as his mouth stupidly drops open. He’s choked up for long enough that he has to clear his voice to try an answer, and even then, he gets stuck. You’re studying him so closely it must show. The blaring warmth that fills him up and makes his ears bright red. After another second, your eyes seem to dim slightly, as you push your cheek to your shoulder, opening yourself up to even more attacks. “Love y’, ‘gumi.”

He straightens up with enough tightness in his chest to choke him, makes his eyes sting and his head blare cold, painful warnings— he grabs some of the glasses from the small table beside him, launches it straight into the wall until it shatters into a million pieces upon impact. The loud clang doesn’t do anything to settle his anger, where he fists his hands into his hair and pulls, in hopes the worry will somehow vanish.

“Why do you always have to be such a hero?” he hisses, even though you can’t answer now, “wouldn’t it have been enough to just stay here with me?!” He tilts your face to his and drops his lips to yours, and that familiar softness is enough to have him clenching his eyes shut again against the tears. He kisses you until your mouth opens a bit, then slides his tongue up against yours and grips your shoulders, pulling your limp body towards him more. “I’ll be better to you.” He pleads. You don’t move, and the breaths going over his cheeks are so shallow.

But he can’t stop himself from tangling your tongue with his, licking into your mouth and chasing the warmth until he runs out of breath. You’re so fucking pretty still. He kisses you again, bumping teeth, and grips your hip hard as he lays over you a little more, chest to chest and feeling it brush against him with each soft pant he lets out, each gravelly moan. It doesn’t hurt so much to brush his tongue against yours, to swallow your taste on his tongue until his lips numb — but while it doesn’t ache, it’s also not enough. Before he’s able to think about the morality of his actions, his thumbs are hooking under your shirt and pushing it up, over your soft belly and ribcage all the way up until it’s over your tits, where his lips travel to as soon as the skin’s exposed. You’re so soft still, too.

He’s not sure what he’s doing other than leaving messy, open mouth kisses onto you, kneading your skin between his hands as all the warmth in his body pools into his groin. Your tits are sucked into his mouth, one then the other, as he rubs his face into the doughy skin, then he’s pulling and pinching at your tits like he knows makes you whimper. The sound’s burned into his working memory, and it drives him on to run his face down your soft body to the part where your thighs meet. The skin just above your skirt of the softest, warmest, and he full on moans when his cock twitches hard in his pants and he reaches down to grab himself.

Normally you’d be blinking up at him now, sending him that little look with grabby hands, ready to wrap your puffy lips around him— it’s different when it’s his hand screwed around himself and not even moving yet. he can’t, or he’ll cum in his pants, and he’s not going to waste his cum like that when your warm pussy’s right before him. He’s shaky when he pushes the fabric up, flipping it over your tummy; and groans again when he licks down your panties and mouths at the seat of it. It tastes so much like you his eyes roll back, and his knees give a little, while more precum leaks out of him and into his pants.

He frees his hands momentarily to slide you to the edge of the metallic table, two hands gripping your butt and squeezing, then hooking his finger in your panties to just pull them aside. He doesn’t care about the chaffing he’ll have. Not even a second thought when your little pussy is in front of him, and he pushes his mouth to you for some open mouthed kisses, down to your pussy and back up. Wrapping his mouth around your clit, he sucks hard, and rubs the bud a few times with his tongue. He swears your breathing goes more pitched and heavier when he does, when his fingers trail down your puffier lips to rub the bit of wetness around.

His cock’s painfully hard in his pants, and after a few more times licking you up and down so that your slick covers the entire bottom half of his face, he pushes the zipper down and then takes himself out to watch how red and sore the head of his cock already is, oozing pre and coating both his boxers and his shaft. He spits into his hand to give himself a few tight-wrung pumps, tighter than he likes normally- if he doesn’t, he’ll spill all over your cute, little pussy. He pushes his fingertips inside your now wetter cunt, watching it wink and beg for something to fill, and groans when one finger slides in with ease.

Your soft walls are still soft and hot around him, giving mean licks over your clit again and again in a way that would normally overstimulate you too easily. You don’t whimper or whine now, take his finger nice and sweet inside your squelching, gooey walls, only making a little noise when he slides in a second and he can feel the slight bit of stretching you need. He’s dripping onto the table now, balls tight and heavy - imagines how you moan and look when you’re sucking on them and you smack your lips with each open mouthed kiss or lick. You between his legs is always enough to have his knees giving, and it’s no different now, he has to hold himself up against you before he thinks better of it.

You’re slid back on the table too easily, making room for him when he pushes one of your legs aside— and let out a slight gasp when he hoists himself over your body. He just wants you. So bad. It’s not so embarrassing when you’re not awake to see how fucking crazy he looks, flushed, cock twitching between his legs as he strains to kiss you again, lick over your tongue for more of your taste, and breathes your name. “Baby, fuck- I need to be inside you.” He wants to hide away in your safety forever. A crystalline, fucked up thought springs up in his mind for just a second, but he banishes that with a few blinks.

Instead he lines himself up over your hot, needy pussy and pushes inside just the head at first, grunting tightly at the softness that envelops him. His whole body shudders as he pushes in deeper, feeling that pit in his stomach expand with each inch that he goes deeper, tangles his fingers with yours when he bottoms out and fills you up so well. You’re curled into his touch, and he kisses you, his thoughts blanking as he pulls back, and snaps his hips back inside you. You’re hot and wet and it feels so fucking good, clenching your hand inside his larger one. It’s not fair. He’s losing his mind, and you’re always the end of him.

His cock rubs against your swollen insides with rough, imprecise strokes — he doesn’t mean to, it’s just that trying to focus on anything other than the heat as he slides in and out of your tight pussy is too much. You’re too much; you’re haunting him even now. He kisses down your face to your neck, sucks on your skin and bites down hard enough to make a serious mark, wanting to hear you cry. Normally, you’d cry out his name so pretty, dig your nails into his back until he’s letting you go and grinding back on his cock, but you can’t do that now. His cockhead bumps your spot each time he fucks himself into you further, but it’s not enough.

It’s never been enough. He wants to be closer to you, and that horrible image that was launched into his head creeps back up before his eyes, bloody and horrible. Maybe he always told himself that he hated you because - no matter how much he fought, he would never be able to stomach actually hurting you as much as it hurts him. But now, withering on top of you as his cock thumps with how much blood rushes south, everything else falls away. He wants to claw and bite and carve his way to your insides and make you pay just a little for his sins. His body is coated in a thin sheen of sweat, thighs pumping blood through his body to his lungs, his gut, his cock.

He pulls out of you to kiss down your tits and over your covered ribs, thumbing over the head of his cock and gliding it over your puffy clit, your wet pussy lips and flicking it just in and out of your drooling cunt— before he puts a sloppy few kisses there too, tongue coated in slick. The blood pumps through his head so hard he feels dizzy, pounding behind his eyes as the heat of your cunt overwhelms him entirely. It’s too hard to stay sane -he’s never felt less sane than now- when you’re laying below him like this, ready to leave him all alone. You wormed your way into his heart when he didn’t want it, and now, now that’s all about to end.

His mouth is dry, but he’s drooling as he grips your thigh and kneads the doughy skin of your tummy— looking so soft and warm and perfectly shaped for him. He wants -needs, needs it, to feel you swallow him, ruin him- to cut you open and eat your insides out with the sick force of what he’s feeling right now— he groans your name again, desperately trying and failing to get it out of his head— the more he tries the better it feels to think it. Despite having his fist around the base of his cock, stings of white shoot over your body as he crumples in on himself and paints you with his cum. He’s still hard though, painfully so, and as soon as he’s done cumming he can already feel the building urge to do it again, trailing his shaking fingers down to your clenching pussy and rubbing your clit until your body starts wiggling back just a little too.

Megumi wants to go, bury this urge down and never think of it again. He really does— but it’s like he’s possessed, drooling over your body and flicking his cock in and out of your pussy without sliding back in. He might’ve had it wrong this whole time, but if this is love - God, he loves you, he loves, loves, loves you so much he’s not ever going to have enough. Can’t ever say goodbye, not when his entire soul’s been bound to yours, has been rotted away into nothing like this. There’s only you, and him; and he can’t get close enough to make this fucking feeling go away.

With black spots swimming over his vision, he’s not sure what he’s doing until he’s knelt on the floor and shards of glass cut his knees open through his pants; he doesn’t feel it - just trembles as he gets one of the larger shards and crawls back to you, right between your plush thighs as he kisses your face over and over until he feels like he’ll be sick. “Forgive me when you wake up, baby.” It doesn’t really sound like him anymore, faint and messy as he ruts his cock against the inside of your thigh and stares at your face for a little longer. He paws at your tummy again, maybe it’s the lack of oxygen - he feels like he hasn’t taken a breath in ages - or the fact that all his blood is cleary in his swollen cock, hot and heavy.

He kisses you again, pants against your chest as he watches between your two bodies as one arm keeps him up, and the other drags the shard of glass below your belly button just hard enough to create a little cut. He just- just wants to be a little closer, you’ll let him, you’ll let him- he’s been so fucking mean to you and if he can just do this, he’ll make it up to you. Specks of blood well up that he swipes his thumb through to slide it into his mouth, get used to the taste of copper on his tongue. Sometimes he bites your lip hard enough to split it, and you tear up and whine, tangle your fingers in his hair.

He could cum on the spot when you yank like that, but the taste now isn’t enough. As he pushes the shard of glass into your skin harder, watching one layer make way for another, tougher tissue that still gives when he grids down a little- he waits for the moment where he feels bad, regrets and walks it all back- but the feeling doesn’t come. Your body looks so pretty like this, robbed of your innocence by his hands; and he doesn’t wanna cum yet, fuck. The adrenaline swimming in his head is pounding too hard to feel anything other than love for you, and the pulling, almost unbearable sensation of wanting to slide back into you. The blood pools around the hole as he slides along, hearing the skin squelch and snap, building a sweat along his neck and collar. Maybe you’d lick it up if you were awake.

The blood runs, covers his entire fist that’s wrapped tight around the glass, it creates little rivers that you’ll both be laying in soon. He coughs, before kissing you below your jaw, feeling the weak pulse beneath his lips— and righting himself to look at his work with a better angle, groaning. There’s both more blood and less than he expected, pooling in your belly button, all over your pretty pussy, his thighs and hands- his cock not yet. He drops the glass aside as he thumbs over the wound and sure enough- he’s cut through fat and muscle and sinew without too much struggle, because you’re soft all over.

He pushes the fleshy gash open more, thumbs over the clean cut he made with a strange sort of fascination before the hot, hot blood gets to be too much for his curiosity and he leans in to lick from your clit up, up, up until his tongue reaches the raised, tight skin— what has he done, what’s he doing, this, this isn’t — he can’t stand the heat that’s coming out of you for long, and it smells, but that isn’t what sticks with him right now. He’s never wanted to be closer. The gaping pouch of your belly’s drooling red for him. The head of his cock twitches when he feels the hot of your stomach coating him in blood, and coating you in turn. The cum from before’s all but washed away, but he’s sure he can give you another couple orgasms before he tuckers out.

He’s strung so high all of this feels like a dream, like his head is about to roll off of his neck; he pushes in with a garbled sort of sound that comes from deep, deep inside him. The skin doesn’t wanna give way at first, but he manages to push back hard enough before suddenly he’s inside, and it’s like nothing else. The pressure of a slab of skin taking him where it’s not meant to go— bleeding and whining out like this, it’s euphoric. He’s able to see his cock’s outline glide into you until it’s bulging your stomach, squelching and sucking him back in; feels like you’re taking him deeper than ever, letting him fuck his cock so deep he’ll hit your ribs soon. You’re so fucking beautiful, even like this, getting coated and letting him fuck it.

He doesn’t know what it’s like to feel like you’re dying, but the peace that washes him entirely clean might be close; he grinds his hips into you hard enough to rock your body under him as he laces your hands again. Both, this time, just chasing after an end that seems like it’ll never come.

He feels infinite. Your blood’s so hot it’s almost painful, and the tightness of the hole he carved into you is entirely different from your pussy, pushing back against him like you’re begging him to get out. He imagines you’d beg so pretty- but he’s inside you, finally inside and deeper than anyone’s ever been. He’s able to watch his cock blow up your belly and make it hollow when he pulls back, and God- he should feel worse than he does. He could swallow you whole if you’d let him. The feeling has him shuddering over you as he pants your name, makes your tits brush over his chest- and his balls smack against the smooth stretch of skin until he can’t feel his feet any longer.

Now he’s got you dirtied, he wants to ruin you too, leave you a mangled mess of flesh and swallow every last bit of you until he never forgets the taste. But that would require he’d stop fucking his hot cock into your bloody, little pouch, and that won’t happen. He’s panting, sweat running down his back from the effort, and his groin starts to feel a little raw too. He might’ve been going for hours by now, licking your mouth clean from his drool only to dirty you again. The head of his cock feels fucked raw inside you, and his thighs shake before his shoulders square over you.

Megumi speeds up his pace fucking into your guts -actually- until he clenches every muscle, is overcome again and reaches heaven inside you, spurting creamy white into the pouch he’s created for himself; “Fuck, fuck, fuckfuckfuckfuck,” his hand has to twist into an uncomfortable position to reach for your clit, but he wildly does it anyway— cramping up, until he’s collapsing on top of you and stilling inside. The stench of blood makes the entire room smell, as he thumbs over the side of your blood-coated thigh with one hand, and feels the shaking all the way up and down his spine. He pulls out so slowly, pumping the last bits of cum out with a throaty moan, before he slides off the table onto awfully shaky legs.

If he was any more lucid, he’d think twice before leaning by your side to kiss your eyes, your nose, your pouty lips as the tears that must’ve been building for a while run down your temple— and suppresses the need to actually eat you- for now, he rubs a softer hand over your exposed tummy, before folding the now blood-drenched fabric of your skirt back down to hide your puffy pussy, lest he be tempted again. He whispers his love into your ears, nuzzles at your hairline until the feeling comes back to his hands and feet and he tucks his spent cock back into his boxers, and goes about cleaning the mess he made of the floor.

It’s only when an uncomfortable scratchy sound comes that he notices the burning heat on his neck, the dried sweat painfully sticky— and straightens up beside you when you start to shake again. Immediately his worry is sky high. Even in the gross air of mixed blood and cum and the scent of sex soaking everything, his mind is just clear enough to hold your head when you thrash around a few times, and your chest rises wildly up and down. Then before his very eyes, the damage he’d done upon you slowly starts to stitch itself together, like weaving threads. Lacing you up until every bit of muscle, fat, and skin restores to it’s pristine glory before he ever touched you, with a little puff of cursed energy.

He bites his lip hard when the shaking stops, and your back lands back onto the metal with a soft clang. The noise is louder now it’s quiet in the room. Megumi waits for a bit longer before he brushes the hair from your face, and doesn't mind it that he’s leaving tracks. The darkness is filled with his tense breathing, and then — every sound at once. Your eyes shoot open with a cry, sobbing out like a baby for a few painful seconds. But then spot him thumbing your tears away devoted like he is -though he won’t admit it to you, and you let out a noise of pure relief.

It’s almost poetic, when you crash back into his arms and this time, he lets your arms wind around his waist.

#kinktober #megumi x reader #fushiguro megumi x reader #megumi smut #fushiguro smut #jjk smut #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #tw.dark content #tw.somno #tw.noncon #tw.wound fucking #tw.blood

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stevebabey · 1 year

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you thought it would be all sweetness??? nooo u got to have a little miscommunication angst before anyone gets any hickies. but they will. in time >:) part one. part two. this is a part three :)

Steve blames it all on the clock.

That stupid cuckoo clock on the wall of the Munson trailer. It's an absolute horror of interior design that would make Steve’s mom shiver if she ever laid eyes on it. It’s probably why Eddie loves it — and the god-awful cuckoo! noise it makes when it goes off.

Because the moment Eddie utters that delightful question, asking for a hickie, the nerve of him, Steve loves it — and Steve is more than ready to oblige him — the stupid clock goes off.

It gives them both a fright, Steve more than Eddie. He gives a whole-body twitch that shifts them both, his head snapping to the wall, a breath forced out of his lungs at the sight of the mustard-coloured bird. Shit. Stupid fuckin’ clock, Steve thinks.

But it seems to break the trance over the room. The sweet tension of their shared closeness is sucked out of the room in an instant. Steve is suddenly aware of the time the popping out bird is announcing. It’s late. Far later than Steve intended to stay over, especially considering work tomorrow.

Without meaning to, the prickle under Steve’s skin rolls through his body. It steals away the comfort that he usually feels with Eddie, tenseness filling his body. Steve hates it — hates how he can’t stop himself from tensing up beneath Eddie.

Eddie notices. He's quick to to retract himself from Steve, pushing up and back, giving Steve his space. He sits beside Steve on the couch, still close. Not close enough to touch.

It helps. The rigidness of Steve's body relaxes just a bit but Steve doesn’t want that. He wants Eddie back on him. Wants his hands gripping Steve’s side. His breath fanning over Steve’s face, cheeks cherry red and pupils blown wide. Steve doesn’t say any of that and he sure is shit isn't brave enough to ask for it.

Instead, he croaks, “It’s late.”

Steve reluctantly pushes himself up from his slumped position, eyes already searching for his scattered shoes. He misses the way Eddie’s face falls, the way he tries to tug his hair in front of his face to hide the hurt. It takes another second to school his expression.

Steve hears a cough and then Eddie agrees with a murmur. “Yeah, sure.”

The words ache. No part of Steve is relieved to have Eddie agree with him. He’s not sure what he wanted; for Eddie to egg him to stay just a little while longer? To prove that their kisses hadn’t been a heat of the moment impulsivity? There's nothing to prove they weren't.

No, it was Steve who said he had to go. It is late. But then again maybe, Eddie wanted him to leave. But, no— Eddie just asked for a hickie, he wouldn’t—

“Don’t you have work early tomorrow?” Steve’s spiral cuts short at Eddie’s voice, tinged with… irritation?

O-kay. Now Steve’s not sure what to think. What had been the source of immense joy because Steve had asked for a kiss and Eddie said yes is suddenly… tilted.

The beginnings of embarrassment begin to cling to Steve like a thick fog. He’s done it again. Been overly eager. Asked for too much, too soon— fuck, that had been Eddie’s first kiss too.

“Yeah,” Steve replies, standing and shoving his foot into the one shoe he can find. He spies the other one under the table and wiggles it out with his toe. He can’t find in it to look at Eddie, not just yet. “Yeah, uh, I should get going.”

It’s all wrong. Steve shouldn’t be leaving — not on these terms. Not when he can’t look at Eddie for fear of what he’ll find. Regret? Steve’s not sure if he could face Eddie again, not if there’s even a trace of it on his face. It would feel like Halloween all over again, a bludgeon on Steve’s too-soft heart. It’ll crumble, he just knows it.

Steve wants to stay. He really wants to. He wants to ask for another kiss, ask for a dozen more kisses. Wants to give the hickie Eddie asked so nicely for and receive one back; matching love bites, like a gentler version of their matching twisted scars adorning their sides.

But he’s always asking for more. Steve always needs more. It’s greedy. It’s embarrassing how much he wants it, how he’s already gotten patient touches from Eddie but it’s not enough. Eddie had sounded a pinch annoyed — even aggravated at Steve.

It doesn't cross his mind that it might be for any other reason. Really, Steve thinks he’s doing Eddie a favour.

“Um,” Steve clears his throat, takes the wobble out of his words. Nods to himself and chances a glimpse at Eddie. The older is staring down at his lap, locks of hair trapped between twitchy fingers. They should talk about it. Steve’s not brave enough to risk his heart tonight.

“Well, g’night.” He says quietly, letting himself out the trailer door. He closes it behind him gently, shoes tapping against the stairs on the way down. It feels wrong, it feels wrong — but it would be selfish to turn back.

He repeats the sentiment over and over, raspy whispers beneath his breath as he climbs into his car. It would be selfish. The engine turns over and he hesitates for just a moment, hoping to catch a silhouette in the kitchen window. It’s empty. Of course, it’s empty.

Of course, Eddie is not chancing for a glance at him on his way out because Steve just asked for more and more and more, and he took Eddie’s first kiss and then— He whispers it to himself again. It would be selfish to turn back.

When he thinks about it on the drive home, Steve’s sure it all comes back to that stupid fucking clock.

Eddie stares in the mirror.

He’s not sure why he was so convinced there would be some radical change in him upon popping his make-out cherry but… well, here he was. Staring in the mirror like he had this morning. Except 10 hours earlier, he had been unkissed.

Tonight, the difference shows. His lips are rosier than usual, a swell to them given by hasty sweet kisses. It’s the only evidence of his spit-sharing moment of passion with Steve on the couch. The rosy colour is already beginning to fade.

Eddie sinks his teeth in. He doesn’t want the only physical proof that he even got to kiss Steve to be gone so soon. Even if that fact seems terribly bitter now.

“What the shit did you do, Munson?” He murmurs to himself in the tiny bathroom mirror.

It’s got toothpaste specks splayed across it. Eddie stares past them. Stares into his own face, reading every change in his features as emotions inside him churn. It’s heading for a distraught expression, the upturn of his brows and quiver in his lips giving him away. He always was a crier. Eddie really wishes he wasn’t.

“Idiot!” He pairs the word with a bang on the wall beside the mirror, frustration leaking out. The toothbrush on the sink shudders in its cup with a clink.

Eddie hates the welling in his eyes. He hates that he ruined the first fuckin’ good thing to happen to him in this town. Loathes that he drives away the first person who actually knows him and still wants to kiss him.

Well, wanted to kiss him.

Eddie’s pretty sure Steve scampering out of the trailer is more than a big enough sign. It’s a blazingly bright neon sign — light up words that say ‘This was a mistake!’

Except, it hadn’t felt at all like a mistake to Eddie. It had felt wonderful, better than anything he had thought, the soft curve of Steve’s lips, the grip on his hands on Eddie’s face, the heat in his face, the— Eddie growls, wiping his hand down his face to shake the thoughts. Too good to be true was what it was.

It’s because of what he said. Of what he asked for. It had to be that. But— but Steve had looked eager and almost excited and then the stupid clock had gone off, scaring the shit out of them both. Maybe it was then that Eddie’s words had sunk in and Steve realised what he’d gotten into— and who he’d gotten into it with.

“You had to ask for more, huh?” Eddie scolds himself angrily, wiping his cheeks harshly when a tear streaks free. Another follows, just as fast. Eddie wipes roughly at his face to clear them. Doesn’t care about the streaks of red he leaves on his cheeks. Another trembling reprimand comes out. “You just had to push it, huh? You fuckin’ idiot.”

Eddie can’t stand his reflection anymore. He tears his gaze away as he spins and heads straight for his room.

The button on his stereo is sticky and it takes a few forceful clicks to turn it on, but when he does, he cranks it. It’s loud enough he’ll surely wake some neighbours. Eddie can’t find it in him to care, not even when the neighbours dog starts off with its incessant barking. Anything to stop hearing himself cry.

“Something’s up with Eddie.” is the first thing Robin says when she comes in the front door.

Steve’s mid-yawn when she does, a result of a night of tossing and turning, and he somehow manages a strange choke at her words. In a haste to shut his mouth, he chomps on his fingers covering his mouth — then hisses, pulling it away from his face. He ignores Robin’s perplexed expression, shoving the hand deep in his pocket. His ears feel a tad hotter.

“What? Why? What makes you think that?” Steve asks the questions in rapid succession. Very chill, he chides himself. At this rate, Robin would have him all figured out 10 minutes into their shift.

And it’s not like— well, Robin’s advice is usually great. A bit cut-throat, sure. She doesn’t have a problem trodding on his feelings on her way to tell him the hard truth. Usually, it’s fine. Steve could probably do with a bit of ego-bruising.

Today, he’s… It’s different. That’s what Steve tells himself. This thing with Eddie, he wants to fix it himself. And with too much meddling from Robin’s advice, even if it was with the best intentions, might mix things up too much. It’s hard enough keeping his half-baked apology that’s been brewing since last night in proper order in his mind.

Thankfully, Robin doesn’t comment on his odd demeanor. She just bustles into the back room — there are a couple sounds of her dumping her stuff. When she comes back out the front, she’s fixing her Family Video vest. It looks perfectly straight to Steve.

He checks his own — it’s sitting askew, part of the collar flipped over. He hastily fixes it, running his hands down the front to smooth it a bit.

“Just,” Robin starts, talking as she sits in front of the computer, beginning to take a crack at the admin she managed. She likes doing things as she talks, Steve knows. Helps keep her from letting words run away from her.

Steve’s thankful for it now because she isn’t looking at him when she says, “I think he might have had a bad nightmare last night, or something of that sort. I don’t know. Maybe I’m way off — you know how I am with trying to read people, Steve. I’m not good at it! But when I saw him, he just seemed…”

Robin seems to take an extra moment to deliberate her word choice. Steve’s really glad she’s still facing the computer so she can’t see the myriad of emotions that show on his face.

“…Off.” is the word she decides on.

Which means bad. Steve feels like he’s swallowed a stone. It sinks deep into his stomach. It burns, sour and scorned, twisting up his gut. It means Eddie is bad — it means disappointment, means he regretted it. That Steve had been right; that he’d been too eager, too soon. Too much.

Right. Of course, this happens again. Really, Steve had brought it on himself by asking for so much. It had been one thing to ask for a hug — who actually has to do that? — and then to expect he might get Eddie to kiss him too? What a overstep. Christ, he's an idiot.

“That’s not…” He hears himself say, still lost in his thoughts. It's only when Robin turns on the stool, brows raised, that Steve realises he hasn’t finished his sentence. “Good. That’s not good. To hear.”

Steve turns and starts shuffling around the films on the returns cart, picking them up at random. He stares at a copy of ‘The Princess Bride’ in his hands, a new release, and forces out a causal question.

“What made you think that?” He asks, shoving the film into an empty slot, like he was arranging them. He’s relieved when Robin’s clicking on the keyboard resumes, along with a dramatic sigh.

“I don’t know. I don’t know if I can be trusted to read anyone’s emotions correctly at any given time, honestly. Remember that old lady? I thought she was being sweet that whole time and then you told me she was being rude! And I couldn’t even tell…”

Robin’s ramble is comforting and helpful to Steve in a way he didn’t know they could be. He presses the cart out, finally getting a move on with it, but delivers a quick nod to Robin when she’s looking to let her know he’s still tuned in. He listens to her get distracted by another topic and leaves Eddie’s name in the dust. It’s a silent relief.

It’s a task to multi-task, listening and devising a plan, but Steve has all shift to find the balance. It’s sometime between finishing re-stocking the action section and starting the romance that Steve decides he should apologise. He should go over today and apologise.

Eddie’s a big boy but Steve’s fairly certain now, if he regretted it, Eddie had probably felt obliged to kiss him back. Probably hadn’t minded the first kiss but- but— Something sticks in his brain; it was Eddie’s first kiss.

It makes Steve feel worse. It doesn’t matter, really, Steve should say sorry for all of it. God, he’s such an idiot.

By the time he’s clocked out, it’s all set in place. He’s got a dozen different apologies running in a loop in his head, reciting the words in time with his anxious tapping on the steering wheel. It’s not a long drive out to Forest Hills Trailer Park. The drive is well-known now. Steve tries hard not to wallow in what he might be losing today. What he lost because he’d been too greedy with want.

The sight of a brown van parked roadside yanks him from his thoughts. Eddie’s van. Steve’s stomach turns, nerves gnawing faster. He slows, trying to catch eye of the other boy as he rolls to a stop behind the van. The sun is beginning to dip closer to the horizon, the temperature going with it.

At the same time, they see each other; Eddie’s head popping around the raised hood to see who had stopped, right as Steve pops his door. Eddie retreats in an instant. Steve's chest grows a bit tighter.

Gravel crunches underfoot as Steve takes a few wary steps closer. It doesn’t take more than a couple before Eddie calls out. He doesn’t bother poking his head out again.

“Go away, Steve.”

Steve swallows thickly. Yeah, okay, he deserves that. He deserves probably worse than that. But more importantly than that, Eddie deserves to hear this. And Steve... needs to not lose Eddie.

“Can I… can we talk?” Steve asks, taking a couple steps closer. A car whizzes by on the road, hidden from Steve's view behind the van. He still keeps his distance, hovering. His hands clench nervously at his sides. Steve shoves them deep in his jean pockets, wiping the sweat off them as he goes.

“What part of ‘Go away’ isn’t clear enough for you?” Eddie snarks back. He still doesn't stick his head out, still won’t look at Steve. It stings.

“I know, I’m sorry,” Steve starts, another instinctive step forward taken. “I-I just, I shouldn’t have left like I did last night. I wanted to apologise.”

There’s a clattering from behind the hood like Eddie’s dropped a tool. He swears. Steve wants to take another step, wants to see Eddie — wants to read every emotion and apologise for causing any of the ugly ones.

“Well, apology accepted,” Eddie responds. There’s a bite in his words. His next words are grumblier, quieter. “And message fuckin’ received.”

What? “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“That—” Finally, Eddie steps away from the van, rounding the hood to march up to Steve. His arms cross over his chest, a wrinkle set between his brows that pull his face into a glare. Robin was right; he is off. This isn’t normal Eddie. Fuck, Steve had fucked up bad.

“That means message received, Steve.” Eddie seethes. He uncrosses his arms to gesture wildly. Steve misses the wobble in his bottom lip. “Message received loud and clear! I get it!”

And all Steve wants to ask is: get what? He doesn’t ask that. He should know what. That would be an idiotic question, would make Eddie more irritated. Lord knows, Steve has been enough of a fool in the last day. So, he doesn’t ask.

“Look, I just…” Steve starts, words a bit weak. They die in his throat as he tries to recall a single apology he had practiced all day and comes up empty. “I’m just- I just wanted—look, I’m sorry I took your first kiss!”

It’s not exactly what he means to say, but Steve certainly is sorry for it. Eddie’s expression wavers, some anger slipping away. Confusion takes its place.

“What?” Eddie says with a tone of bafflement. “What are you talking about?”

“And I’m sorry I kept… kept asking for more.” Steve continues on, pulling on the thread inside him, connected to the terrible stone he swallowed earlier. He tugs it. Hopes pulling it will unravel the guilt sitting heavy in his stomach.

Steve scrunches his eyes shut and rubs the bridge of his nose. “I know, okay? I know that I can be a lot.” He sighs and drops his hands.

“But I didn’t mean to… shit,” He wrenches his eyes open. Eddie’s a bit wide-eyed now, brown eyes watching him intently. Steve doesn’t know what expression he’s wearing, can’t tell if it’s good or worse. He continues, soft words scraping out his throat.

“I didn’t mean to be like that with you.”

Eddie searches Steve’s face, eyes darting and wild. He licks his lips. His hands are in motion, fingers twisting rings, quick and fast. It’s a nervous action.

“What do you mean by ‘like that?’” Eddie asks, voice gentler. It's lost its snarl from before.

Steve blinks, a scrape of teeth worrying his bottom lip. He murmurs his admittance lowly, just one word, “Selfish.”

Eddie doesn’t try to hide his surprise; it ripples across his face in a wave. Confusion melts away into something closer to, Steve hopes desperately, relief. Steve can feel his own heart thudding hard inside his chest — can feel the beat it skips when Eddie steps closer.

“Steve?” Eddie says, sounding unlike himself. Steve’s never heard his voice that small. He nods, wordlessly. Eddie searches his face once more — wide brown eyes scanning and devouring. Steve can’t help but do the same.

He drinks in the details of Eddie’s face; the soft scruff along his top lip, the darkness of his lashes and the way they kiss in the corner that Steve adores. The pink of his lips. The familiar ache to kiss Eddie surges up within him, still as violent and strong as it had been the night before.

Steve should really stop looking at Eddie’s lips. He’s supposed to be apologising. He drags his eyes up and meets Eddie’s gaze full-on, prepared for whatever he might say. Except, he’s not expecting him at all to say;

“Can I... try this again?” It comes out a ragged breath, Eddie's scared eyes conveying the weight behind his words.

And this time Steve doesn't even need to ask what because he knows. Because Eddie's hands are reaching up and holding either side of Steve's face so gently. Steve can't recall a time he's ever been held so softly. His own hands come up slowly, draping around Eddie's wrists to hold them, to keep them there.

Eddie's thumb traces. It draws a sweet line of that familiar fire beneath Steve's skin along til it's settled on Steve's bottom lip, resting. The blood under Eddie's thumb thrums, gloriously warm, aching with want. Yes. Steve thinks. Yes, yes, yes.

"Yes, please." Steve breathes, so sincere the words comes out as a kiss against Eddie's thumb.

So, Eddie kisses him.

now with a part four !

tags below! sry if i tagged u and u didn't want it just tagging everyone who replied <3 @they-reap-what-we-sow @impeachy @anaibis @resident-gay-bitch @ediewentmissing @newtstabber @original-cypher @invisibleflame812 @hunterbow04 @leather-and-freckles @dracoswifeandlokispet @foolofentirelytoomanyfandoms @lfaewrites @sundead @call-me-big-eyes @the-redthread @goblinmanifesto @etaka @bishopextractions @ketterfuck @persephone13 @beckkthewreck @maya-custodios-dionach @autumnal-dawn @yourstrulyjoko @gleefully-macabre @princess-eddie @savory-babby

#EHEHE SORRY I CANT RESIST A LITTLE BIT OF MISCOM ANGST #MORE SWEETNESS COMING THO!!!#on god eddie needs his hickie #and im gonna GIVE HIM ONE #AND SO MUCH LOVE!!!!!!#BEST BOYS NEED TO BE HAPPY IN LOVE!!!!#maybe one more part :)#i had only one more idea for the can i's and i BET u can guess what it might be <3 #and it needs to draw back to touch cos that was the POINT of this fic originally #IM ALL BOUT PARALLELS BABEY #hope u find this delicious #gay ppl in my phone... this for u #can't wait to write the relieved kisses w the 'YOU THOUGHT WHAT???'#they're such goobers <3 #steddie #steve x eddie #steddie fic #steddie ficlet #can i series #HOW MANY CAN I'S CAN U SPOT THIS TIME !!!#ruby writes steddie #steddie angst #steddie fluff #uhhhh don't flop challenge #or do flop. i can't control the masses #hopefully this hits the brainrot just right

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lilirari · 6 months

Text

happy halloween !

𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾. summary : the one in which you're helping oscar with his face painting for halloween.

𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾. pairing : oscar piastri x fem! reader

𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾. genre : fluff

𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾. word count : 0.8k words

𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾. author's note : i wanted to write something special for halloween but i didn't get the time to do so T_T this is pretty rushed & quite short too with a terribly written ending & it's not really proofread either but i hope it'll still make up for the lack of content 😞

" oscar, stop moving around! you're going to mess up your face painting! " you exclaimed, landing a light slap on his right arm in hopes that he'll stop squirming as the said male let out a soft chuckle in response.

" hey, it's not my fault! the ends of the brush are just very soft.. i feel a bit ticklish. " oscar replied back, trying to defend himself. he did stop moving his head around though and had tried to stay still as you were seated on his lap, painting some scars on his face.

the two of you had decided to go as pirates this year, something which you thought would've been funny and at the same time, a sort of a genius moment because your boyfriend already had that thick aussie accent so it wouldn't be too hard for him to get the "arr !!"'s in.

" are you not done yet? i feel like you've been painting on my face for an hour now. " oscar remarked, raising an eyebrow as he looked at you.

" pfft.. it hasn't even been 30 minutes, silly. i'm almost done though, don't worry. just a few more touches and you'll be the best-looking pirate with the nastiest and most realistic scar out there. " you replied back, gently rubbing the brush across his cheek, your tongue sticking out slightly as you had your full concentration on finishing that scar.

as he noticed how focused and serious you were with painting on scars on his face, oscar couldn't help but smile as he looked at you in admiration. the way you sticked your tongue out, the way you squinted your eyes when you were painting the little details, the way you bit your lower lip whenever you made a slight mistake and the feeling of your thumb rubbing the excess paint off from his face all attracted him and made him feel euphoric. the aussie remained quiet throughout the rest of the process, as he stared at your features, admiring your beauty with the most love-struck eyes ever.

" ah, there you go! it's all done now! " you finally exclaimed after a few minutes, a look of satisfaction on your face as you grab the mirror laying on the table next to you. " what do you think? "

" whoa, i didn't expect it to look this realistic.. you did a great job, y/n. " your boyfriend commented, letting out a low whistle as he looked at the painted scar across his face.

" hehe, i know. i'm such a great artist, aren't i? " you asked, placing the brush behind your ear. you straightened your back and placed your hands on your hips as you striked an cartoonic pose, a wide and proud grin plastered on your face.

oscar could almost see stars sparkling around you as you striked your pose. he let out another chuckle and looked up at you once more, a smile decorating his features and not a word escaping from his lips.

" .. what? what's wrong? why are you staring at me like that? " you asked, tilting your head in confusion once you noticed the male simply staring at you and not uttering a word.

" hmm.. nothing. you just look really adorable when you're being all smug and proud of yourself. " he replied back, his smile turning into a grin as he slowly wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you closer to him.

your eyes widened slightly when you felt his arms around your waist as oscar wasn't someone who showed his affection through physical touch. but you did notice that he had started being more comfortable around you lately and would even be the first one to intertwine your fingers when you walk together or wrap his arm around your shoulders when you're just sitting and casually talking to someone else.

a giggle escaped your lips when you heard him call you 'adorable' as he leaned in closer to you until your foreheads were touching and you were staring into each other's eyes.

" you're so cute.. so pretty.. you're my pretty girl. " oscar whispered, planting a soft kiss on your lips.

your face immediately flushed at both his words and his actions, which didn't go unnoticed by him. the mclaren driver let out a hearty laugh after noticing your red cheeks, his lips tugging upwards into a smirk.

" so, i assume you like the nickname, pretty girl? " he asked, gently poking your sides to tease you.

" maybe.. well, if i'm your pretty girl, then that makes you my pretty boy. " you replied back, running a hand through his hair.

" your pretty boy, huh? .. doesn't sound too bad. " oscar commented, resting his chin on top of your head, his arms now engulfing you into a hug. a small sigh of satisfaction escaped his lips as he felt you melting into his touch. it was the small and intimate moments like this which made him feel truly happy and he never wanted to let you go.

" oscar? " you muttered, leaning your head onto his chest as you heard the soft beating of his heart.

" yeah? "

" i love you. "

you could hear his heart beat a little more rapidly after you said those three simple, yet powerful, words. his hold on you loosened for a second as he looked down at you before pressing his lips on your forehead.

" i love you too, my pretty girl. "

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togenabi · 6 months

Text

all my ghosts

megumi fushiguro x reader

♡—haunted by ghosts all your life, you find peace and quiet in megumi’s arms

word count♡— 1.5k

genre♡— fluff

content notes♡— reader sees ghosts, meet-cute, first date, ghosts are nosy and annoying, but megumi makes it ok, inspired by 'all my ghosts' by lizzy mcalpine

also on♡— ao3

author's note♡— this has been in my drafts for a while, and I decided to polish it up in time for halloween! not that this is anything spoopy, just standard fluff brought to you by yours truly. please enjoy!

‘That kid's looking at you!’

‘No he isn’t!’

‘Yes he is! Look, look!’

Closing your eyes in frustration, you exhale through your nose. Could these damn ghosts ever give you a break?

All you wanted was a midnight snack. That's what brought you to this convenience store (at this ungodly hour) in the first place.

You ignore the wispy forms of the ghosts that follow you around everywhere, picking up your favorite snacks and sweets. One in particular was blocking your way, so you swat at the air where they hovered.

‘Oh!’ The ghost exclaims in offense. ‘Why, I'd never!’

Now you've done it. All the spirits floating around suddenly get unbearably loud, complaining about how rude you are. Apparently, you're dreadful company. But that's hardly fair when you never asked for them to hang around.

You've always been able to see ghosts. It's been something you could do for as long as you could remember.

Your mother, having had the same ability, taught you how to ignore them and act like you can't notice them at all. It usually works, but everyone has their limits. Yours was when some ghosts insisted on changing the show on your TV every time they didn't like what you were watching.

You had burst out, yelling and complaining and making the fatal mistake of letting them know you were aware of their existence. How much you regret that day cannot be put to words.

Ever since then, you've always had two or three ghosts hovering around. Asking you to play a song they miss. Or google something. Or call their grandkids for them.

They eventually leave once they realize they won't be able to get anything out of you, but a ghost who left will let others know about a girl who can see them, and the cycle just keeps on repeating itself.

‘Look! It's true, that boy is looking at you!’ A persistent ghost blocks your view of the beverage shelves, wildly pointing and gesturing to your left. You tsk, but turn to look anyway.

He has dark hair and dark eyes, wearing a hoodie that looks incredibly comfortable. He's quite handsome, and the ghosts were right. He's looking at you.

When he realizes you're looking back at him, he averts his gaze. He covers his mouth with one hand and turns away, but you see the tips of his ears burn red.

Your heart feels like it skipped a beat. Flustered, you pretend to be curious about the drinks on display.

But it's too late. You can't focus.

The ghosts around you are eating it up, cheering and encouraging you to talk to him. Some even hover over to the boy to persuade him to approach you. This could not get any more embarrassing.

You risk another look at him. He's not looking at you anymore, but his expression surprises you yet again.

He's looking at where a ghost is floating beside him. Your heart stutters again when he squints at what should be nothing for him.

But it's not nothing. Can he see them too?

You've never met anyone else who could. Not outside your family, anyway. Maybe you should talk to him.

You take a step closer, and the ghosts disappear.

Alarmed, you turn this way and that, trying to make sense if they're pulling some orchestrated prank on you.

But they're all gone. Or at least, you can't hear them anymore. Especially not when the cute stranger is looking at you again.

“...Hi.” You greet him, still at a loss for words.

The boy nods, clearing his throat before he speaks, “Hey.”

You notice that the ghost he was staring at is gone too. Just what is going on here?

“Sorry if that was weird of me.” You try to laugh off your nerves. “I thought I heard something.”

He blinks. “Yeah, I think I know what you mean. Must've been the wind.”

Ah, maybe he didn't see your ghosts after all. You're not sure if you're relieved or disappointed. “Yeah. Wind.”

With a hand rubbing the back of his neck, he introduces himself, “I’m Megumi.”

He repeats your name softly after you give it, and you hope he can't see how flustered you got. As you look down at your basket full of snacks, Megumi holds out a hand and offers to carry it for you.

Shyly, you walk together to the cashier. You let yourself smile and take in the peaceful silence, now that the ghosts aren't around. Something sweet is in the air, something sweeter than the smell of candy and soda.

You linger by the entrance once you've both paid. Megumi opens his mouth to speak, but stops when someone suddenly barges in.

The pink-haired boy urges him to hurry up. “Hey! Let's go! Everyone’s already there for movie night.”

Megumi is pulled along, though he stutters as he looks back at you. “W-Well...” He gives a small wave. “I hope I'll see you around.”

And the moment he steps out of the store, it's chaos again.

The ghosts reappear once more, chatting your ear off about how you didn't get his number. And for once in your life, you agree with them.

It should be impossible, but Megumi somehow cancels out your ability. You think you’re falling. You could kiss him. Maybe you should have gotten on one knee and proposed right there and then.

Before you can properly think about it, you’re running after them and pulling at Megumi’s sleeve. The spirits fade once you’re close to him again.

The last thing you heard from the ghosts was them cheering you on. It makes you smile as you ask, “Could I have your number?”

“For the last time,” You warn the wispy figures floating about your bedroom, “If you spied on Megumi prior to our date, I do not want to hear about it.”

‘But sweetheart,’ An elderly lady ghost pats your shoulder, unfazed that her fingers only pass through you. ‘You should have seen him, he was so nervous! He—’

“No, nope!” One hand holding your outfit, you use the other to point at the door. It’s more of a symbolic gesture, since they don't really need to use it to get out. “Please let me change alone. Thank you.”

The ghost of a young man hovers around you, scrutinizing your outfit choice. ‘If you really want to leave an impression, you should w—’

Thankfully, you're not the only one who finds him insufferable. The other spirits groan and drag him outside—sending you heart signs and thumbs ups as they leave.

Unfortunately, the restaurant Megumi wanted to take you to was closed. He was crestfallen, but you assured him that you were fine anywhere, as long as you were with him. You only realized how cheesy that sounded when he blushed and turned away.

You ended up buying food at the convenience store where you met, and walking a short distance to the park for an impromptu picnic.

Sprawled on the grass together, you take turns asking each other questions. You learn that his birthday is in December. He asks about your taste in music.

You could get used to this. To not hearing a dozen ghosts at your ear. Indeed, the sounds of the trees rustling, birds chirping, and Megumi laughing are a lot more preferable.

“My first impression of you?” Megumi hums, pouting in thought. “I don't know... It's a little embarrassing.”

“I won't judge you for it, I promise!” You insist, “Besides, I told you that I thought you were cute.”

He takes a deep breath, not meeting your eyes as he answers cautiously, “You know that broken light in the convenience store?”

You make a confused face and tilt your head. “...Yes?” Where is he going with this?

“I’ve always hated it. The uneven lighting makes my head hurt...” Megumi leans close to brush your hair away from your eyes. “But I swear, those poorly maintained fluorescent lights weren’t that awful when I first saw you… Because you were glowing, and you were so beautiful.”

Not expecting that kind of answer, you hide your face by leaning into his shoulder. Megumi lets out a breathy laugh, and you think you might hear his heartbeat. You immediately add it to the list of your favorite sounds. The trees. The birds. His laugh. His heartbeat.

When you get home later that evening, your ghosts rush to you, excited and giddy to hear about your date.

‘Did he not give you flowers?’ One ghost asks.

‘No one gives flowers on dates anymore.’

An older spirit gasps, ‘Oh dear. Back in my day—’

‘We don't want to hear about how your dates went a century ago.’

‘Yeah! We want to hear about our dearie and Megumi!’

‘How was it?! How was it?!’

Taking a deep breath, you practically melt into the couch.

“It was perfect.” You smile, and the ghosts swoon with you.

Funny how Megumi said the lights didn't seem so bad when you were there. You feel the same about all your ghosts; he makes it all so much better.

tags: @songsofadelaide @flowerjun @sweetexistentialism @mellozhi @ihaveanexistentialcrisis @msmisasoup @appalost @starszns @onebatch--twobatch @luccaaedd @hellyyy06 @isentsworld @justsomerandomwe31rdo @gunslxtz @lownna @akakaze

#megumi x reader #megumi fluff #jujutsu kaisen fluff #megumi fushiguro fluff #megumi fushiguro x you #megumi fushiguro x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujustsu kaisen au #megumi fushiguro #megumi fushiguro oneshot #jjk megumi #fushiguro megumi #togenabi-megumi-02 #togenabi-writes #fushiguro megumi x reader #fushiguro megumi x you

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mochiroreo · 5 months

Text

I had to sign to the Devil now I’m on

Alpha!Rafe Cameron & Alpha!JJ Maybank x Omega!reader

TW: 18+ MDNI, NON-CON, DUBCON, afab!reader, reader being called “honey” most of the time, toxic alpha behavior, threesome, rough unprotected P in V, creampie, fingering, squirting, oral ( f receiving), choking,degradation, biting, primal play (non-consensual), a/b/o terminologies, marking/bonding, spitting, (let me know if I have missed anything!)

Author’s note: screw my halloween thingy. i clearly underestimated myself by thinking that I can write something short and call it a day while working full-time and writing book reviews as a side job lol. love you all and thanks for sticking around!

P.s. this is not beta’d hehe. We die like men.

“Do you need anything else?” Concern was evident on your mother’s voice, her shadow showing that she’s still outside your door, patiently waiting for an answer. “I-I’m fine mom..” you breathlessly answered “I t-think I can h-handle this for now.. thank you.” Before you even finished thanking her, another wave of nausea made you stumble towards you toilet. You tried to empty your stomach that was already empty for days now, puking your heart out.

Hearing you vomiting, your mom entered the room and held your hair out of the way, kneeling with you while rubbing soft circles on your back. She helped you cleaned up yourself, gently laying you down on your bed before arranging an array of snacks and microwaveable soups near your desk along with medication that might help ease out the pain and.. heat spells.

“I will ask your dad to give you space, we will go out for a few days, I know how much you hate our scents at this time. I am so sorry honey I cannot help you—“ “it’s alright mom. This is already too much.” You smiled at her, easing her nerves before quickly pressing a kiss on your forehead, trying not to overwhelm you with her own scent. “Just message us once you feel like its over, okay? Or anything, really.” Giving a curt nod, she left your room, hearing her softly talking to your dad.

Both of your parents are Alphas, based on the genetics class that you took, you have to be an Alpha as well. Everyone around you presented months ahead of you, some even years. Being the only late-bloomer at a small town, word quickly travelled and you were labelled as the “odd” one. You ignored them though, confidently assuring yourself that you are going to be one of the small numbers of being an Alpha. Omegas were very rare as well, yet you would rather be an Alpha with how severe Omega heats are. And as far as you know, if an Omega presents, their heat immediately follows. You really don’t want to be handling two major things in one sitting.

Something in your gut was not feeling right as you listen to your lecturer, taking notes on all the possible symptoms for every class.

You were having a small crisis during one of your breaks at the university, frustrated at still not having a status on the ‘hierarchy’ while ignoring texts from 2 annoying people that you try not to meet on campus every day. Your phone kept on vibrating, making you sigh in annoyance and proceeding to block those 2 numbers despite knowing that they will find another way to send you messages.

The two annoying people that got blocked was JJ and Rafe, who happens to be the top Alphas on the campus that you pay no mind to. Who also happens to be the people you have drunkenly slept with after a night long of partying for the first time. Waking up sandwiched in between of them, all three of you covered in bites and hickeys, your mind quickly presented every possible thing that the woman at campus might do to you. You carefully slide out of their hold and quickly dressed up, tiptoed your way out without even leaving a note.

You tried to act normal the next day, thinking that if you don’t pay any attention to them they wouldn’t notice you nor remember what happened that night. But with how heavy their gazes are towards you, you quickly realised that they are not on the same page as you are. Confusion ate you as to why would it bother them, but you continued to avoid them and their gazes. It was quiet for a while, before they started texting you. It went from “Hi. Its JJ :)” “Hey its Rafe” to “Would really love to feel you again” “you were so hot that night” which made your cheeks burn in embarrassment, quickly deleting their messages, only to be met with a new number and tons of missed calls.

You do not get their obsession at all, cause you are pretty sure you were hammered that night. Shots after shots, cocktails after cocktails, you were sure you just got wild and did the usual things to them that would be done with a normal hook up. You did not expect your first time partying to end up in their arms, but sure as hell you do not want to experience whatever might happen if word goes out that you slept with the “hottest” people in your university.

Sighing, you stared at your melting smoothie. The gloomy weather was affecting you as you slowly face the sky. You looked down at your sprawled out notes, trying to talk to yourself to study instead of overthinking about when you would present. The sky looks gloomier, making you quickly pack your things as it looks like its going to rain, when suddenly you felt dizzy.

You quickly balanced yourself, clutching your bag near your chest in shock. You were just thinking on what might be the reason before another wave of dizziness hits you once again. Sitting down slowly on the bench, you quickly messaged your bestfriend if she can take you home. Your best friend immediately came to where you are, helping you on her car. “Holy fuck you look so pale” she commented in the middle of the drive towards your house, your hair sticking at your nape and your forehead as you feel hot and cold at the same time.

Your best friend told your parents what happened, letting you rest. A few days rest would be enough, you thought. That clearly did not work. 5 days went by like a blur, days were spent on having the highest fever ever to vomiting the soup that you ate for lunch. And with how severe and noticeable the symptoms are, your parents chose to go out for a while to not overwhelm you with their pheromones, leaving you alone.

The nausea that you had throughout those days was replaced with something more embarrassing and something that made you cry in frustration. The sudden heat and wetness that kept on pooling on your legs with the excessive amount of releasing pheromones into the air only meant one thing.. you’re presenting as an Omega and you’re having your first heat.

You laid down sweaty on your bed, the room stuffy and boiling hot for you despite the cold autumn air entering through your windows and the AC that you have turned on. A wave of pleasure had hit your body, your hands pushing down the garter of your soaking wet underwear, immediately slipping two fingers in your deprived pussy. You mewled at the sudden feeling, thrusting your fingers almost immediately to relieve yourself. Holding your legs up, you continued to pump your fingers in and out to reach the climax that seems so far away. You cried out in frustration, stopping your actions when you’ve realized that whatever you’re doing is not and won’t be enough unless its an Alpha.

You quickly grabbed your phone beside, messaging your bestfriend about your situation.

“I am hundred percent certain that I’m presenting as an Omega and I’m having my first heat. Do you mind telling Pope to— you know..? Visit me.. if he’s there at the party”

Pope was your safest bet for an Alpha to help you out. The guy was the kindest and definitely one of the smartest people you have ever met, so you trust that whatever he would do would help you and ease the pain. There was a sudden pain in your chest from your heat that pushed you to release more of your scent, you’re breathing so fast that you try to ease the pain by curling into a ball. Waiting for it stop, you heard your phone pinged and quickly took a look at your bestfriend’s message that says “Oh shit, I’m on it 🫡”

You waited for what seems to be hours, as your heat becomes more and more unmanageable. You tried to look decent at least, a red, thin silk nightgown that sits on your body perfect and a properly brushed hair before swiping some strawberry lipgloss. You felt bare and nervous with Pope seeing you in this state, but you cannot help at thinking that this might be a step on having a serious relationship with someone reliable and can help you out with your cycles.

The doorbell rang, making you gulp nervously before trotting downstairs to open the door slightly and what you saw just made your stomach drop along with your smile. “What the hell are you both doing here?” You asked with squinted eyes, holding the doorknob tightly.

JJ’s huge smile greeted you while Rafe just smirked in amusement. “Are you that disappointed to see us?” JJ asked, making you squint harder at him in annoyance. Rafe just chuckled before pouting to mock at your expression, leaning on the door frame which made you close the door a bit more. “Aww, she doesn’t wanna see us.” “Shut up. I asked you guys a question, what are you both doing here?” You continued, trying not to get overwhelmed with both of their scents as you will yourself not to give in.

“Well, we heard something from a little birdie that someone has presented as an Omega and well.. that someone, requires some top Alpha service.” JJ answered behind Rafe, a menacing smile on his face as he stares on your paling face. “Mhm,” Rafe nods in agreement before slightly pushing the door, gripping the edge tightly. “Do you know who that new Omega is?” The slight push exposed your thin nightgown, and based on Rafe’s darkening expression and JJ’s slightly wide eyes, you knew that you’re running out of time to push them away.

“I don’t know what you guys are talking about.” With an eye roll, you were about to slam the door, when both of them pushed it to stop you. You were still holding the door knob so you tried to push it close only to be met with resistance. “Seriously, you’re fucking choosing Pope? When you have us?” Rafe asks, his blue eyes staring at you so intently as he try to sneak a peek at your body behind the door. You heard JJ sigh, laying his palm flat on your door, hearing the clunk of his rings. “You know.. I feel a bit betrayed. You, choosing a good friend of mine, instead of me? Have you forgotten what you said to us THAT night?”

His emphasis made you shut your eyes, the image of their bare torsos flooding your memory and their breathless sighs made you clench your legs, unknowingly releasing some pheromones into the air that wafted straight into their nostrils. Both taking a deep breath, your scent smelling like amber, honey, and vanilla, making both of them salivate. You snapped out of your daze when you noticed them being quiet, realising your mistake when you noticed that their eyes are almost black,irises swallowing the pretty blue hues of their orbs.

You tried to push the door shut once again, both Rafe and JJ trying to push it open. “Open the door, honey. Come on.” Rafe said menacingly, staring you down. The vast difference of your size to them made you shiver in fear and anticipation on what they might do to you. You slapped yourself mentally before trying to push it shut again. JJ clicked his tongue before sighing “That’s it.” He mumbled under his breath before giving Rafe a short nod. Rafe just smirked before they both gave the door one solid push, making you tumble backwards.

Preventing yourself from falling backwards, you immediately balanced yourself, slowly stepping back while maintaining eye contact with the two. Your heart is pounding inside your chest so loud that you can hear it together with your heavy breaths. Rafe and JJ’s stature just scares you, their toned arms ready to capture you as they walk towards you like a predator catching its prey. When a click was heard with JJ shutting the door, you quickly grabbed whatever was near you, which happens to be a vase, and threw it towards the two.

With Rafe being the closest, he barely managed to dodge it, scraping the side of his arm. He just looked at you, snapping his neck as he chuckles. “Oh woohh..” he exhaled, a menacing smirk on his lips as JJ just laughed beside him. “You shouldn’t have done that.” He growled lowly, not taking his eyes of your quivering form. “Run, honey. Cause once we catch you—“ you did not even let JJ finished his sentence before you start running upstairs, hearing their laughter echoing throughout the empty house.

You were panicking, trying to wrack your brain on where to hide. Your house was a decent size, so even though there’s not much place to hide, you still knew what places they might not even spare a glance. You crawled inside a spacious cupboard that is concealed behind the door in your guest bathroom, talking to yourself inside your head to slow down your breathing.

“Honey~ come out, come out wherever you are~” JJ called out in a singsong way while Rafe just chuckled. You heard their steps getting closer before hearing them walk away to check whatever room they haven’t checked. Covering your mouth in fear, you closed your eyes to stop yourself from shivering. You just wanted this to end, this fucking heat. This situation. This was far from what you wanted already, from discovering you’re an omega to seeing the people that you hate so much outside of your house instead of Pope.

It was suspiciously quiet, yet you did not move. You were still trying to control your thoughts and your shivering body, your hair sticking into your skin with how warm you are feeling because of your heat and because of the cramped space. You felt another ripple of pleasure, making you close your eyes shut. “Not now, not now, not now” you plead to yourself, the heat being way more worse after the confrontation. You didn’t hear anything from outside. Trusting your gut feeling, you removed your hands from your mouth and finally opened your eyes.

Only to be met with Rafe and JJ’s big smile that made the blood drain from your face.

“Boo.”

A deafening scream escaped your throat as Rafe grabbed you out of your hiding space, your arm suffering from a bruising grip. You did not stop trying to hit him or JJ even when he carried you over his shoulder, trying to hit his back while also aiming to kick JJ. Rafe smacked your ass, the pain immediately traveling to your wet core. JJ smelled it in the air, watching you sob as Rafe plopped you down on your bed. They both stared at your disheveled state, your nightgown sticking to your skin, highlighting your pebbled nipples that are now evident thanks to the cold air from you open window.

Both men did not waste any time, taking off their clothes as you watch in shock. You cannot help your eyes trailing down, from their faces that showed no other emotion than want, to their taut arms and muscles. Your eyes widened when you saw how huge their cocks are just because of your heat, Rafe’s longer and a bit curved while JJ’s a good length yet clearly thicker than the other, making you gulp in fear and anticipation, your hormones taking over your mind as it turns into a mush.

They were both beside you in an instant, with Rafe landing a slap on your cheek that does not sting much yet brought your mind down back to your body again. “Why can’t you just follow, huh? This wouldn’t have happened if you just listened to us.” You continued to just stare at him, trying to cover your breasts using your arms before you felt JJ wrapping his hand around your neck. “He is asking a question, honey. Come on now.”

Your eyes started to water yet you felt your pussy clench on nothing, instead of answering, you have accidentally let out a soft mewl.

“Fuck, look at you.” JJ spoke, licking his lips as his hold on your neck slightly tightened. “Who would have known that you will love this?” Rafe grabbed the neck line of your night gown before ripping it, making you gasp. You felt vulnerable by the sudden action, trying to cover up your body which made them both annoyed.

“Who told you to cover yourself up, slut?” You felt Rafe smack your leg, before shoving it upwards to show them your weeping cunt. Your face heated up in shame with how wet you are, your own juices trailing down your legs. You didn’t get to answer back as JJ lets go of his hold on your neck before leaning down to kiss you. The kiss is sloppy and extra messy because of what your heat was doing to them. He tasted every corner of your mouth as you obediently open to let him, tongues dancing with each other, biting his bottom lip which made him groan into your mouth. The sound made your pussy clench on nothing, making Rafe laugh mockingly.

“Aww, look at this weeping cunt. I bet you had a hard time huh? It’s alright, I will make you feel good.” You didn’t have enough time to get down from the high of JJ’s kiss when you felt Rafe lick your folds slowly, coating his tongue in your essence. The action made you grip JJ’s hair while he press wet kisses on your neck, sucking and licking as he covers you with hickeys.

Your brain turned into a mush, the fight inside of you now long gone as you feel mind-numbing pleasure from the both of them. Rafe continued to plunge his tongue inside of you, his thumb rubbing your clit in circles, his mouth and chin covered in your slick as he continue to eat you out. Sliding a finger inside of you, you immediately moaned and clenched, making the kook king smirk mockingly. “And she wants to put up a fight? Hah.” JJ commented before latching on your nipples, teasing it between his teeth and feeling it harden on his tongue. You don’t know what’s happening anymore, other than the feel of their mouths on your body. Rafe slipped in another finger, and another when you mewled.

His three fingers pumped in an out of you, setting a punishing pace. You had long shut your eyes, brows scrunched in pleasure with your mouth agape. JJ tapped your cheek repeatedly, making you open your eyes. “Keep your eyes open and watch us fuck you.” You watched Rafe suck your clit, fingers squelching as it tries to go deeper everytime, and when he curved his fingers and felt that rough texture, your eyes rolled at the back of your head, snapping open that release that you’ve wanted for days.

Rafe felt your pussy flood with your cum, clenching hard on his fingers. Continuing still, JJ grinned when he watched your legs shake, making Rafe pull back. “Oh shit” he muttered, both of them seeing the liquid gushing out of your cunt. “God.. thats fucking hot.” Brushing his hair upwards, while Rafe wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, your chest heaving up and down.

You were tired but not yet satisfied as your mouth waters at the sight of their cocks, seemingly larger than earlier. You wanted to suck and taste it, feel it heavy on you tongue but it seems like they don’t want that today. Both men positioned your body for what they want to do, JJ sliding underneath you with Rafe positioning himself above you. Your eyes were slowly closing, before a slap echoed on the room. “Fucking wake up, you hear me?” With a clenched jaw, Rafe grabbed you by the jaw with force, making you nod your head. JJ cackled, pressing his bare chest on yours. “Where’s the fight that you had earlier? Gone already?” He continued to made fun of you, feeling him rub his tip to your puckered hole. “Knew it was this easy to get you like this. Why are you even playing hard to get?”

Being sandwiched between them two sent your brain into an overload. All you were thinking about was the relief and pleasure of having them and taking them both. The fight inside of you turned into craving the feeling of their lips on your skin, their pheromones clouding your mind as much as your cloud theirs. You felt your slick drip down, from your puffy pussy lips to your hole. You felt the soft tip of JJ’s cock poking your hole, lubricating it with your slick and with his pre-cum before pushing in slowly. The intrusion made your body tense up, craning your head back and resting it on his shoulder. JJ hissed with the tightness, holding in a breath as he push,push,push inside of you. Rafe noticed how you scrunched your eyebrows, making him rub circles on your clit to loosen you up.

The sudden action made you scratch JJ’s arm that was holding you in place, squirting as he is finally balls deep inside of you. JJ lets out a shaky breath while Rafe only chuckled, before pushing his huge cock inside of you without warning. You gasped, looking down to slightly to see his flushed body connecting with yours while feeling JJ behind you, hands now holding your legs open. Leaning closer, Rafe growled in your ear while JJ moaned on the other side. Both men tentatively gave you one hard thrust, making you clench on the both of them.

The action made both of them give you another hard thrust, hands digging on your waist and hips, trying to create a rhythm. Rafe’s thrust were continuous and forceful, immediately hitting your sweet spot which made you curl your toes while JJ’s were short yet deep, stuffing your entrance so full of his thick cock that all you can think about is how full you are and how mind-numbing the pleasure is.

JJ constantly sucks hickeys on the side of your neck while Rafe attacks your lips with a searing kiss, their hips never stopping as drools drips from the side of your lips. Both blondes cannot help but bask on the feeling of your wetness and the squelching sounds your holes are making while you moan so erotically for them to hear, your sweet scent making it more pleasurable for them. “I-I’m close.. oh god I’m so c-close..!” You tried to warn them, holding Rafe close as you drag your nails on his back making the taller male stutter out a low moan.

Your warning just made JJ’s urge to own you stronger, grabbing your hips in a bruising hold as he piston his hips, feeling his wet balls smacking your ass with every thrust, prompting Rafe to do the same. “Take it— fuck, take it you fucking whore..!” He whispered with Rafe wrapping his hand on your neck, squeezing slightly making you open your eyes. “Doesn’t this remind you of that night?” He asks, following JJ’s rhythm. Tears flowed down your cheeks as you get overwhelmed with pleasure, constantly moaning and releasing a series of ah,ah,ah as a bitch in heat. “You told us you are ours that night, stuffing you so full like this.” He smirked at you, watching how filthy you look like, taking both of their cocks and letting them have their way with you. JJ chuckled breathlessly when he hear what Rafe said “yeah— fuck— remember how she moaned that night while holding her legs open? Then acted like nothing happened, now look at you. Back to doing it again for us.”

You were too far gone. Their comments slipping down your brain as your body focused on the fullness and the harsh circles on your clit that you don’t even know who’s giving you with your eyes rolled at the back of your head. “C-coming..!” You didn’t even finished your warning as you cum, clenching on both of them tightly. Yoyur body convulsed, mouth slack and open which prompted Rafe to spit on it. Both men felt your hot slick wetting them both, chasing their own highs.

JJ looked at Rafe, licking his bottom lip before cocking an eyebrow. A silent challenge to the other alpha male before sinking his teeth on your shoulder blade. The sharp pain made you open your eyes full of unshed tears, breathing heavy as pain and pleasure mixed inside of you. JJ licked the wound, pressing with kisses before huskily moaning, releasing his cum deep inside of you, filling you up as he relishes on the high from the sex and from marking you as his. “Mine.” JJ whispered while looking at Rafe, clearly challenging the other with a smug smirk.

Rafe snarled, baring his teeth on the other blonde before thrusting deep inside of your abused cunt and biting the other side of your shoulder. His bite was rougher than the other, hot pain searing inside of you as you open your mouth in a silent scream before feeling him cum deep inside of you. Kissing the bitten area of your shoulders, they both stayed inside of you before pulling out at the same time. Your tired state was evident with how flushed your cheeks are and how your eyes were barely open.

Both of them stood up, JJ laying down your tired form properly on the bed while Rafe grabs a wet cloth to clean you up. While cleaning you properly, both men cannot help but watch you sleep while baring their marks, officially marking you as theirs. They want you for themselves but both of them won’t back down, settling on the terms that they share you, as long as its only the two of them that gets to taste and fuck you.

They held your body close, the haze of stuffing you full still buzzing on their system as they settle beside you. Looking at their bite marks, both of them grinned foolishly, finally claiming you as theirs.

“You fucking assholes!”

Both men immediately sits up in shock, still sleepy from the draining activities last night. When they both opened their eyes, they saw you standing in front of your mirror, staring at the bites that they left on each of your shoulder blades in horror.

You looked at both of them in disbelief, hiding the marks with your hands while you sob. JJ and Rafe just smiled at you, clearly proud of their work. “Get out— get out!” You screamed at their faces, ignoring the fact that your heat is still not finished yet. Feeling betrayed that they staked their claim. Now everyone will know who claimed you, their pheromones will always cling on your skin and your body reacting more actively when they’re closer because they had bonded you without your consent. You sobbed at the fact that instead of having someone mature to help you out on your heat cycles, you instead got two of the most possessive bastards in the world.

Rafe just leaned back while JJ rested his head on his hands. “Now, now” JJ started. “I think you need to calm down. We really need to teach our little omega how to speak to her Alphas properly, right, Rafe?” The other just chuckled, eyeing your naked body with lust. “Oh definitely. I cannot have a bratty little omega prancing around with such a dirty mouth. I guess, we both need to stuff her mouth with our cocks, put her into place huh?” You ignored them and screamed “oh fuck off! You fucking pieces of shit!” Your chest was heaving in anger.

Rafe grabbed the lamp besides him and threw it on the wall behind you while JJ lets out a warning growl.

You just stared at them in shock, covering your now cowering body as they stare at you intensely with clenched jaws. JJ stood up, walking towards you before dragging you forcefully towards the bed by your hair. Letting out a scream,he shoved you down the bed with your ass propped up for both of them to see, before landing a harsh spank on your ass. You cried out in pain, before feeling Rafe’s hand on your nape, pressing you down and choking you.

“You are ours. OURS.” He threatened through clenched teeth.

The sun went down. The day ended with you covered and full with their cum, using and abusing all your holes, covered in hickeys and bruises that will last for days. Clearly expecting you to learn your lesson, your mind blank as you take and take whatever they give you.

455 notes · View notes

lixzey · 5 months

Text

professor, professor

September 1, 1993

Your heels clicked against the stone floor as you walked inside the Defense classroom late at night. Your eyes scanned the room as you reminisced about the days you spent inside the classroom as a student.

Professor Dumbledore had hired you at the last minute as an assistant for the new Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor. At first, you were skeptical—why would the defense against the dark arts professor need an assistant? All the defense professors you had when you were a student never had assistants, so this was a first. The headmaster didn’t elaborate much; all you knew was that it was needed.

You agreed, of course, since you terribly needed the extra income. The job you had barely paid for rent and utilities, let alone food. You had been living in the muggle world since that fateful Halloween night in 1981. You spent the last twelve years blending in with muggles, though it isn't much of a problem since you were a half-blood, but you lost everything you had ever known. You lost your family in the most tragic way possible; they weren’t related to you by blood, but they were family—the only family you’ve ever known.

August 31, 1993

You sat in the living room of your one bedroom flat with a tin of biscuits in your lap that you bought along with a few groceries with the last of the money you had, hoping it would ease your hunger and last a few more days until you could get another job.

For the last twelve years, you’ve been in and out of jobs—not one lasting more than a year. You had been a waitress, a bartender, a street sweeper, and a cashier at a grocery store and café; hell, you even tried to become a stripper out of desperation.

You sighed deeply, rubbing your temples. You were thirty-three yet you still haven’t figured out your life. It wasn’t supposed to be like this; it never was. Voldemort took everything, leaving you miserable and alone.

While you were reading and eating the biscuits you had just opened, you suddenly heard a knock on the door. Your brows furrowed in confusion. You weren’t expecting anybody—you haven’t expected anyone for the last twelve years. You took a deep breath, placing your book and the tin of biscuits down on the coffee table in front of you before getting up to open the door. When you opened the door, your eyes widened. Albus Dumbledore was on your doorstep.

“P-Professor Dumbledore?”

“Good evening, Miss L/N.” Dumbedore’s blue eyes twinkling. “May I come in?”

You nodded, dumbfounded, stepping aside to let your old professor inside. The Headmaster made his way to your living room, sitting comfortably on your worn-out couch.

“This is an unexpected surprise, Professor. Is there anything I can help you with?” You asked as you grabbed a chair from under the coffee table. “I don’t usually have visitors, but I have tea; if you’d like, I can start the kettle.”

“There’s no need, Y/n,” Dumbledore answered with a smile that almost looked like pity. “I won’t be staying too long, my dear.”

You raised an eyebrow at him. “Then why are you here, Professor? How did you even find me?” You asked, confused as to why he was here; it certainly wasn’t a visit to his old student.

“I hear you’re looking for a job.” Dumbledore said thoughtfully.

“How’d you know that? I haven’t stepped inside the Wizarding World in almost thirteen years.”

“I have my ways, Miss L/N.”

You rolled your eyes at your old professor. “Yes, I’m looking for a job. Hell, I’d take any job.”

“How would you like a job at Hogwarts?”

Your heart skipped a beat at his offer. A job at Hogwarts? The place you once called home. It seemed too good to be true. “What kind of job?” You asked, still skeptical about the offer.

“I need an assistant for the new Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor,” Dumbledore explained. “I believe you are well-suited for the position as you are one of the brightest students in your year. The pay isn't quite as much as I'd like to offer, though,” Dumbledore continued. “But there is room and board, of course, and full meals and such.”

It was as if the air had been sucked out of your lungs. A real job, a consistent job. A job at Hogwarts, the place that had been a second home to you for the important years of your life. The place where you met your friends and formed bonds that were stronger than any other.

“I'll take it.” You said without hesitation.

“I thought you might,” Dumbledore's eyes twinkled with satisfaction and moved to stand. “I'll see you tomorrow at the start of term, Miss L/N.”

“Thank you, Professor.”

“You’re welcome, my dear girl.” Dumbledore smiled. “Oh, I nearly forgot. Have you read the Daily Prophet recently?”

You shook your head, your brows furrowing. “I haven’t looked at anything from the Wizarding World since James and Lily died.”

“I suggest you take time to invest in a copy of the Daily Prophet, Miss L/n.” Dumbledore smiled again, though his eyes were telling otherwise. Before you could utter another word, he apparated out of your flat with a loud pop.

You hadn’t gotten a chance to get a copy that night since the next day was the start of term and you were already in a hurry to pack your trunk. You still have no idea what your old professor was implying, though you didn’t let it bother you too much.

As you continued to look around the classroom, memories of your Hogwarts days came flooding back.

The way you and your friends—James, Sirius, Peter, and Remus—would always sit together in every class Always plotting pranks for the Slytherins—mainly Severus Snape and other unsuspecting students.

There was Lily, who always told you not to encourage the boys, but she also had a mischievous side you loved.

Then there were Mary and Marlene, who loved to chatter and talk, always sharing all the gossip with you and Lily.

And finally, though he was a part of the Marauders with you, Remus. You loved him more than words could ever describe. You and Remus had dated at the start of your fifth year. He was the calm to your storm, the voice of reason when you and James were off planning another ridiculous prank. Remus was kind and caring, always making sure that you were okay and safe. He was your best friend, your confidant, and the love of your life. There was something about Remus that made your heart flutter every time he smiled, or how his eyes sparkled when he talked about something he was passionate about. You were drawn to his intelligence, his kindness, and his unwavering loyalty.

They were your family, the family built on love.

You felt a pang in your chest at the thought of Remus. It had been years since you had last seen him—years since he pushed you away after James, Lily, and Peter's deaths and Sirius’ betrayal. You couldn’t blame him, but you were hurting too at that time. It wasn’t fair that he broke your heart because he couldn’t take the pain of losing your friends. You have resented him for breaking your heart ever since.

You sighed, brushing the painful memories aside. Maybe this was the fresh start you'd been waiting for. A chance to leave your past behind and embrace the future. With a new job at Hogwarts, life was looking up.

Lost in your thoughts, you didn't realise that someone had entered the room until you heard a deep, familiar voice behind you. “Who are you? What are you doing in this classroom?”

You quickly whipped your head around to see the person you weren't expecting to see in a long while—Remus Lupin was standing in the doorway, looking confused and shocked at the sight of you. The two of you locked eyes for what felt like an eternity, silence painfully enveloping the two of you.

“Y/n,” Remus finally managed to say. “H-How have you been?”

All the pain and hurt came flooding back with a vengeance. You felt your heart loudly thumping in your chest as anger coursed through your veins. “Cut the crap, Remus,” you spat. “What the bloody hell are you doing here?”

Remus’ eyes widened, clearly not expecting hostility from you. “I-I’m the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor.”

“You have got to be fucking kidding me.” You scoffed, your eyes narrowing at him.

“I wish I wasn’t.” Remus shrugged.

“Oh hell no, I am not working with you.”

Remus raised a brow. “What do you mean?”

Before you could reply, Professor Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall entered the classroom.

“Ah, I see you two have been reacquainted," Dumbledore said, his eyes twinkling.

“You didn’t tell me he was going to be the new professor,” You snapped, glaring at Dumbledore. “I would have refused the job if I had known.”

“I understand your reluctance, Miss L/N,” Dumbledore said calmly. “But I assure you, Professor Lupin will be an asset to Hogwarts. You will be assisting Professor Lupin in his classes. I believe the two of you working together will be beneficial for both of you.”

Remus scowled. “What do I need an assistant for? I’m perfectly capable of teaching; thank you very much.”

“I assume you're aware of Professor Lupin's condition, Miss L/N?” Dumbledore asked, making Remus scoff.

“Yes, but I-”

“That settles it, you would be substituting for Professor Lupin once a month, until he is healed and deemed fit to work by Madam Pomfrey.”

“With all due respect, sir, I can’t work with him,” you protested, crossing your arms over your chest, glaring at Remus. “I don’t care how dire the situation is; I refuse to be around him.”

“Now, now, Miss L/N,” Professor McGonagall chimed in. “You two will have to learn to work together. You both are highly capable, having been the top students when the two of you graduated. The students will benefit from your expertise in defense against the dark arts,” Professor McGonagall gave you and Remus a soft smile. “You both will need to set aside your differences and work together for the sake of the students and the school. It’s time to put the past behind and focus on the present.”

You clenched your jaw, feeling a mix of anger, resentment, and frustration. The last thing you wanted was to work with Remus after everything that had happened between the two of you. But seeing the determined and hopeful looks on the faces of Dumbledore and McGonagall, you knew you had no choice.

You let out a heavy sigh, turning to Remus with a stern look. “Fine, I’ll do it. But I better get a raise.”

Dumbledore chuckled. “Of course, Miss L/N.”

Remus nodded, his expression unreadable. “I understand. I’ll do my best to make this work.”

Dumbledore nodded at Remus. “I have faith in both of you. I trust that you will be able to put your personal feelings aside and work together for the betterment of Hogwarts and the students.”

You rolled your eyes, feeling a wave of exhaustion wash over you. The past was haunting you at every turn, and you hated it. But you had no choice; you terribly needed this job, and you weren’t going to let it go just because of him.

“One more thing, Miss L/N, Mister Lupin,” Dumbledore started, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “The two of you will be sharing living quarters for the whole semester.”

“What?” You and Remus both said in unison, disbelief written all over your faces.

“Consider it team bonding,” Dumbledore said with an amused smile. “I’m sure the two of you will find a way to make it work.”

You pressed your lips into a thin line, feeling dread settling in the pit of your stomach. Sharing living quarters with Remus—a man who had broken your heart and pushed you away after everything that had happened—was not something you were looking forward to.

You gritted your teeth, forcing a smile as you nodded. You didn't have a choice but to go along with it, despite the knots of discomfort and resentment that twisted in your stomach. It seemed that working at Hogwarts was going to be even more complicated than you had initially thought.

“At least tell me we have separate rooms.”

“Of course, Miss L/N,” Dumbledore nodded. “You will each have your own separate rooms, fear not.” You let out a breath you didn't know you were holding, feeling a bit of relief at the mention of separate rooms. At least you wouldn't have to spend the whole semester sharing a room with Remus, a thought that made your skin crawl.

“Well then, we shall leave you two to make the necessary arrangements,” Dumbledore said, giving you and Remus a reassuring smile before leaving the room with Professor McGonagall.

You and Remus stood in awkward silence for a moment, both of you avoiding eye contact. The tension between the two of you was palpable, and it was suffocating. You sighed and finally turned to Remus with a cold stare. “Don't get too comfortable, Lupin,” you warned. “This doesn't mean we're suddenly best friends again.”

Remus flinched when you called him by his last name, but nonetheless he nodded, understanding your apprehension. “I don't expect us to be best friends again, Y/n,” he said quietly. “But for the sake of the students and the school, we could at least try to get along.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, still not convinced. “We'll see,” you replied with a dismissive tone.

Remus met your cold gaze with a resigned expression. “I understand,” he replied evenly. “I don't expect us to be friends again. I don't expect us to be anything other than colleagues.”

You scoffed, feeling the weight of your past grudges and hurts. “Colleagues. That's all we'll ever be.”

Remus nodded. “I know.”

The two of you stood there in uncomfortable silence, knowing that once again, your lives had become even more complicated. You both needed this job and living at Hogwarts, and you wouldn't let your personal differences get in the way of it, no matter how difficult it might be.

But one thing’s for certain: it was going to be an interesting year at Hogwarts.

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abibliophobiaa · 8 months

Text

Chapter Five: One Bed

summary: you and eddie have to share a bed, and things start to take a new turn. (7k words)

eddie munson x pregnant!reader || strangers to friends to lovers, unplanned pregnancy, and then they were roommates, forced proximity.

masterlist | previous chapter | next chapter

——

“Just a warning, these nights get loud,” Chrissy expressed, maneuvering around where you sat near the kitchen island, bouncing Melody on your thigh. “And just think, in a few months we’ll have another little girl here to add to the chaos.”

“Don’t remind me,” you groaned, already dreading the idea of getting her out once all was said and done. “I miss the days when we thought storks delivered babies to your front step.”

“It’ll be all worth it once she’s here.” Chrissy giggled airily at that, placing bowls of chips around the table, tutting when Melody’s hand reached out to try and grab some. “How are things going with you and Eddie? Living together, sleeping just down the hall from one another…”

“I don’t know what that look is in your eye, but it seems diabolical,” you mused, taking a sip of your water perched on the table beside you. “Him and I are friends.”

“Friends who seem very cozy as of late.”

“We’re living together and…so what if we enjoy the company of one another —” You paused as her lips curled into a devious smirk. “— not in the way you’re thinking. We just spend a lot of time together lately.”

“I think the way he dotes on you is sweet,” she said, reaching her hands out to grab Melody. Hoisted the baby up onto her hip. “You know he talked about you a bunch after Halloween. You must have made a good impression on him.” She sing-songed the latter half, a mischievous little glint in her eye that looked out of place on her sent your way.

Flashes of that night danced across your vision. Those brief introductions at the table. The way you’d spent hours talking and laughing with one another. The moment beneath the awning where you’d almost kissed. Food shopping with him. His fingers on your form as he undressed you, inside you as they drew out your pleasure, mouth hot and fervent against your own. The way he mapped your body later with his lips, how he’d lavished you with his words as he rolled you beneath him that second time, your hands tangled together in bed sheets near your head, eyes locked on yours as his hips rolled into yours.

The night was seared into your brain. Imprinted on your mind. Intimate in a way you’d reeled from, a spark different than anything you’d had with Paul — or anyone for that matter. A complete stranger, and yet something had felt so different that night. So ‘impression’ deemed too insignificant of a word to express what that night signified.

For one, it marked the beginning of something new, now nestled within, just beneath your breast.

“I just think it’s less complicated this way,” you added, glancing down at your midsection. “She’s most important. She needs both of us.”

“And what about what you want?”

“I’ve had enough run-ins with love to know it’s likely not in the cards for me,” you told her sourly.

“What if it’s just a matter of you not having met the right person?” Chrissy asked, placing Melody in her high chair. “You know, before I met Steve, I’d been dating someone else. My parents loved him. On the basketball team, town golden boy, involved in his church and charity. Perfect, by their standards. But what they didn’t know was that we fought — almost every day. He didn’t make me happy; or I thought he did, until I met Steve.”

“You never told me how you met Steve.”

“At a roller rink,” she giggled, glancing over your shoulder to where her husband and the father of your own child were drinking beers together in the living room. “He’d bumped into me. Literally crashed into me. We spent the day with me icing my head and him icing his cheek. But we talked for hours. And he was funny and sweet and charming and I just knew it was him. Right away.”

“That’s — that’s really sweet, Chrissy…”

“How does Eddie make you feel?”

And there it was. The question you’d been avoiding, because it meant admitting to the fact you simply weren’t sure. You knew you liked him, but liking him meant putting yourself in a vulnerable situation.

“We’ve only known each other a couple of weeks —”

“Time doesn’t define the importance of something, silly,” Chrissy said, dropping down onto the chair beside you. “Right now, at this very moment, how does he make you feel?”

You glanced his way. And, like he always seemed to, he had this uncanny way of knowing when you needed him. Ever present, with that seemingly constant glowing smile on his face from over Steve’s shoulder where he sat. A question burned behind his gaze, but you shook your head, and he relaxed back against the couch no longer on alert.

“Good. Heard. Seen. Cared for,” you rattled off, wanting to cover your face with your hands. Wanting to hide from the gnawing fear burning in the back of your mind over the reality of it all. “But it doesn’t matter, because what if we try and it doesn’t work and now Elena has two parents who don’t even like one another, or can’t even stand to be in the same room together?”

Chrissy curled a hand around your shoulder, those bright eyes of hers meeting yours sympathetically. “What if we imagined the reverse? What if none of that happens? You won’t know if you don’t try.”

Another time, another place, another day — those had been the words spiraling in your mind the day you left him back in his hotel room. Another person — someone who would offer him the rose-colored glasses, the giddiness of relationship, the joy of love. He was deserving of so much; the world, really.

“I’m not just saying this because he’s my husband’s best friend,” she started, voice lowering into a quieter whisper, “but he’s a good man. The best of the best. What if you opened up to the idea of…simple like? Not even love.”

What if you opened up to the idea…to simple like? Could it really even be simple? It seemed like such a juxtaposition to your current reality. Yet, the words knocked around in your head all the same, wonder already forming in the catacombs of your mind at the mere possibility.

However, before you could give it any life, the thought was disrupted by the doorbell, to be shelved away for later.

——

The arrival of the fondly named “kids” came with an air of chaos. Friends who traveled from near and far to come visit, all wrapped together in one room. Max and Lucas, on holiday here in Hawkins, now residing in California together.

Will and Mike arrived a little later, holding hands and a package of Oreos that you immediately opened and snacked on, much to their shared amusement.

El, who you had previously met, was visiting her step-brother Jonathan and Nancy in the city — the same woman you’d already contacted, thanks to Eddie’s suggestions, and were now waiting to hear back from.

Their initial reactions to finding out about Eddie being Elena’s father were met with amusing degrees of excitement and many questions — but overall, they were all over the moon for him. It made your chest ache to see him so happy, the way he proudly talked about his daughter before them all, the fondness behind his eyes as he spoke.

You remained at his side through it all, overjoyed to simply be there with them, laughing when they’d dove into a story about a time Steve, Robin and Eddie had taken the kids camping, and Eddie and Steve had the not so brilliant idea of trying to spook them before bed.

“To be fair, we were only fifteen at the time,” Mike explained from beside Will. “Which should really show you what these assholes are capable of —”

“Hey, watch what you’re about to say,” Eddie began, waving a finger in Mike’s face. “That is your mother and father you’re talking about.”

“Who’s mother?” you asked, laughing when Steve pinched at the bridge of his nose.

“Steve’s mom,” Robin explained, appearing in the doorway with Vickie. “And your guy over there is dad.”

Neither of you bothered to correct Robin on that comment.

“So maybe we’d told them a little campfire story about bears in the woods before bed,” Steve started, curling his arm tighter around Chrissy’s shoulders. “What’s the problem with that?”

“Well,” Dustin interjected, leaning out of his seat from where he sat next to his soon to be bride. “Here’s the thing — we were on high alert. Started stocking up in case we needed to fight off a bear.”

“Wasn’t our fault Eddie is an idiot and started growling outside of our tent and maybe got sprayed in the eyes with hairspray,” Max said, bursting into loud giggling when Eddie cringed beside you, as if recalling the memory like it had happened moments ago instead of years ago.

“That shit hurts, okay?” Eddie grumbled, and you patted his kneecap teasingly.

“The scream he let out,” Lucas added, and the rest of the group laughed in agreement.

“I do not scream.”

“You do, man,” Steve said solemnly, earning a glare from his best friend. “It was so loud. Thought the police were gonna be called.”

“Sorry,” Eddie began, rolling his eyes, “who was it that used Farrah Fawcett spray in the first place? Because that’s where these little asshole gremlins got it.”

“Hey — it works!” Steve shouted. “Don’t knock it until you try it.”

“Steve, my friend, I walk out of the shower and my hair looks like this. I don’t need products to enhance what I was naturally blessed with.”

“Bet you’re doubting your decisions to procreate with him now, aren’t you?” Mike joked, flicking his gaze between the two fighting men.

But you only laughed, because you weren’t doubting it at all, but instead thoroughly enjoying yourself. Especially now as Eddie interrupted their stories meant to embarrass him and suggested they maybe start their game before it got too late and they’d have to call it a night.

Eddie on a normal day was…breathtaking, beguiling, intriguing. Different from most you’d ever encountered in all the best ways imaginable. Appreciated for all he was simply because he marched to the beat of his own drum. He loved life and enjoyed it to its fullest. He never once put on airs, tried to be anyone but his fullest self. Had accepted Eddie Munson as Eddie Munson years ago.

You’d known as much from conversations with Steve, Chrissy and Robin over dinner. Eddie’s face bright red in a blush whenever they recounted stories from their younger years. And over the span of several weeks, you’d gotten to know it for yourself as well.

Eddie was Eddie.

Perfectly, wonderfully atypical.

But seeing him like this — in his element, surrounded by his loved ones, weaving a tale that left you enraptured. Left you leaning out of your seat, as if lured by some unseen vision, his words wrapping around your heart. Your mind.

Chrissy grinned to herself at the sight. A little flash of it you’d seen, twisting those pretty pink lips. But you’d chalked it up to the fact Eddie Munson was a natural born storyteller. Inspired by the many books his mother had read to him as a young boy, even now. Even so, what a lovely thing? To be graced with it so intimately like this, to see his inward love so outwardly on display.

Later, after the campaign had wrapped up and everyone left for the evening, you sat beside Eddie in the passenger seat of his car. Regarded his face illuminated by streetlights as you passed them by. Glimmers of dark eyes, full lips, those freckles cheekbones.

Long, torturous moments passed in silence, fueled by Chrissy’s comments and insinuations. Fueled by the questioning of what would happen if only you played the tape deck forward. Would you crash and burn or take to the wind and soar? Would you risk it all for the sake of your own want, or play things safe for the needs of the third party in this increasingly complicated situation?

“Are you —”

“Can we go somewhere, Eddie?”

You’d both spoken at the same time, laughing awkwardly as you’d done so. Rushed utterances of the first things that stumbled into your minds. Eddie’s ringed fingers gripped the steering wheel tighter, shifting onto the side of the road with his right blinker.

Once settling the car into park, he shifted in the seat your way, worried lines marking his forehead. “Is everything okay?”

“I just…” What did you want, though, really? “I’ve been having a hard time sleeping.” Not quite a lie, and yet not also the full truth as to your whirring thoughts.

“Do you want to go for a walk around our neighborhood?” he suggested, turning the car back on when you’d nodded. “I know you mentioned you were having a hard time a little while back, but I didn’t realize how bad. How long has this been going on?”

“Couple of weeks,” you grumbled out, leaning your head against the window. “Doctor said insomnia is another thrilling side effect of all of this.”

“I’m sorry,” he huffed out, though it was hardly his fault at all and you both knew that, drumming his thumb along the steering wheel. “You could have told me, though. I’d have tried to help you.”

You shrugged, shifting on the seat a bit so you were facing him. Noted the determined line of his lips, his bare arms moving as he steered. “Where are you going? This isn’t the way home.”

“I’m thinking we need dessert for our walk,” he said, the turn signal clicking as you waited to make a left turn into the parking lot. “Chocolate?”

“Mmm Oreo sounds really good right about now.”

“So I have something to ask you and I know it’s kind of out of the blue and last minute and I meant to ask you beforehand but we had Steve’s today and it kind of got pushed to the side.”

“Is this why you’re buttering me up with a milkshake?”

“Maybe.” He said, a little teasing glint in his eyes, the red stop light bathing his skin in the bright glow. “Okay, so, Wayne’s place is getting work done. Something with a burst pipe and he can’t stay there for a couple of days.”

“So you want me to stay with Robin or something —”

“No, no,” he urged with a hand on your forearm. “I just need the guest room for a couple days.”

“Oh, okay.” You nodded, considering. “I can sleep on the couch for a few days.”

“What? Sweetheart, no. I’m not — I’m not making my pregnant —” He paused, catching himself, swallowing thickly. “I’m not making you sleep on the couch.”

“Yeah, but I’m not taking your bed,” you argued, “so I guess we’ll have to share.”

The words spilled out in a rushed breath. You’d not even really thought about what you said until the words were already there, out in the open, exposed for the taking.

“I mean, we’re adults,” you continued, shrugging. “We can sleep in the same bed without it being weird.”

“Okay,” he said, nodding evenly, mulling over your words, “that was easy then. You’ll sleep in my bed. With me.”

And that — that had your stomach turning. Twisting in that giddy, roller coaster, butterfly type of way. The way that had your fingers curling around the edges of your seat as Eddie parked the car and rushed into the opened diner to grab the two of you your sugary treats.

He returned as your heart settled back into normal rhythm. Opened your door and thrusted your drink into the air, muttering, ‘For the lady’ with a bow that had your cheeks heating up.

It only took another few minutes to pull up in front of Eddie’s home, your door opening so you could hop out as soon as he’d shifted it into park. Tugging your hoodie tighter to your body, you walked along the sidewalk and waited as he hooked his keys onto his belt loop, locked the car, and joined you beneath the street lamp.

“After you,” he said, practically bouncing on his heels as you began your loop around the neighborhood.

“You know, there are so many stars here than back in the city,” you muttered after a while, pausing with your drink outstretched in hand, head tipped back to take in the sky. “It’s just another thing I don’t really miss about back home. I feel so much more…I don’t know, connected? To myself and those around me. Without all the hustle and bustle.”

“Never thought about that,” he breathed out, hand guiding you closer to him on the sidewalk so you wouldn’t stray too far into the road. “I guess it’s easy to take for granted when I see it all the time.”

“Did you know there are two to four hundred billion stars in just our galaxy alone?” You tilted your head over your shoulder, catching the way the moonlight illuminated Eddie’s features. “And there are something like hundreds of billions of galaxies. Fun things you pick up when you work at a high school library.”

“I did not,” he admitted, lowering his head to take you in. His eyes lingered on your face, on the lines of your lips, and you swallowed the thick knot forming in the back of your throat. “Anything else you learned while at my old high school?”

“The worst lunch days are definitely Wednesday,” you sounded off, sipping your drink, “O’Donnell always has mustard on everything while we have lunch and Elena hates it. Which means I hate it. Uhm, they definitely need a wider selection of novels, and their cataloging system could use some major work. Oh — and the vending machine near the nurse’s office has the best snacks.”

He laughed, a bright, happy sound that had you nearly bouncing on the balls of your feet. “Sounds about right.”

“You know, tonight was actually really fun.” You tipped your drink lid into his chest, smirking slightly. “I saw a different side of you tonight.”

He followed as you trailed onward again, the sound of his shoes pounding against concrete to keep up in your ears. “A good side? Come on now, sweetheart. Can’t leave a guy hanging like that.”

Nose wrinkling, you snorted. “I liked it. You had a very…commanding presence. The kids enjoyed it, too.”

“So she likes commanding —”

“Hey —”

“Kidding, kidding.” Eddie held up a hand in surrender, waving his cup in the air with a big flourish as you halted on the sidewalk in front of him to allow him to catch up. “Honestly, I’ve been doing that for so long, it’s become something I look forward to. Back in high school I’d run the club, and that’s when I ended up meeting the guys. Mike, Lucas, Dustin and Will. Took them under my wing a little bit — you know how it is, teenagers are shitty.”

“Teenagers are shitty,” you agreed, sounding a little morose. “I was lucky to have Micah at that point. So it never felt like I was alone. But those years can be isolating. I can’t imagine. I’m sure they were so happy to have you there for them.”

“Yeah, well…they’re now attached to Steve and I. Like our own little band of shithead gremlins. But we love them.”

“I can tell you do,” you said, thinking back to when Max had hugged him goodbye and he’d patted her head. Looked up at him like she’d admired him. “They love you too. The way they talk about you is really sweet.”

“Now they’re all grown up,” he said, rubbing at the back of his neck. “Which reminds me…Dustin is getting married in a week and he suggested today that I might ask you to come with me.”

He looked at you out of the corner of his eye. A nervous little bounce in his step. Noticed that he’d dragged a hair along his lip, trying to hide himself from you.

A knowing smile creeped along your lips. “Like…as your date for the afternoon?”

A date — you could do a single, solitary date with a friend.

He glanced down at his feet, exhaling deeply. “Yeah, exactly like that.”

“I’ll have to buy a dress,” you said quickly, putting the poor man out of his misery, “but I’d love to.”

“Okay.” He nodded, grinning softly to himself. “Ah, awesome. Perfect. Can’t wait.”

You continued like that for a while. Simply walking beside one another, talking about anything and everything beneath the stars. Simply basking in the presence of another person as the moon glowed brightly above.

Eventually, when you’d finished your shakes, you both decided to head back to the house, but neither of you seemed keen to separate for the night.

Eddie spoke with you on your bed, your feet in his lap, his hands rubbing at your sore calves, until you started to doze off against your pillow.

Stayed with you until you finally fell asleep.

——

Wayne was on his way out of the house for the afternoon when you whirled around, Eddie’s apron tied around your waist, your sous chef beside you with his hair pulled back. You’d been working together for an hour now, making penne alla vodka that you couldn’t help but lean over and smell the sauce that was currently simmering in a pot. It should be illegal to smell so good, you thought, hip brushing Eddie’s as you moved around him to grab the shredded cheese.

Tonight was the first night of your arrangement. Sleeping beside Eddie in his bed. Platonically. No funny business to be had by any means. Sure — Wayne would be working the night shift and gone for most of the time you’d be sleeping beside Eddie, but you’d cleaned out the guest room to allow for him to sleep in there, making sure the man knew this was his home as well as yours.

Not that you’d had any say; nor could you quite pinpoint the moment when Eddie’s home had become yours too. Found yourself saying things to him in conversation when out and about from time to time, simple remarks of “let’s go home” and “oh, it’s at our place” and even the night you’d walked under the stars with Eddie, back in the car, when you’d said “this isn’t the way home.”

And even so, here you were, hosting at the place you called home with Eddie.

Weird to think how a few weeks had changed everything. Nearly twenty-three weeks along, and living with Eddie for a little over a month now.

“You two went out of your way to do all of this for me?” Wayne mused, chomping at a piece of garlic bread (that didn’t make you run for the toilet this time, luckily enough), seated across from the two of you when you all finally settled down for dinner. “Didn’t have to do that.”

“You’re going into work,” you said, offering him a grin, “we wanted to make sure you were fed.”

“Thanks little lady. Ed.” He took another bite and picked up his fork, nodding his head your way. “How is my grand baby treatin’ you?”

“Pretty much moving all the time now,” you sighed, Eddie pouring you another glass of water when yours emptied. “Eddie will have to show you her room. He did an amazing job with it.”

“I’d love to,” he agreed, clapping his nephew on the shoulder. “And thanks for letting me stay with you two. Sorry to steal your bed.”

“It’s fine, seriously!” you huffed out with an amused snort, pushing your chair back as you finished up your plate, reaching over to grab Eddie’s as well. “Do you want me to put a pot of coffee on?”

“Nah, this here is fine,” Wayne said, polishing off the rest of his plate and adding it to the plates you began running water over. “I’ll grab some when I get to work. You two have a good night now.”

As Wayne slipped out for the night, you raised the dial on the radio Eddie kept in the kitchen. An older Frank Sinatra song was playing, hands buried deep within the sink, when he’d sidled up to you and began drying the dishes you laid into the drying rack.

You hadn’t even asked him to, but it had become a routine of sorts as of late. These little things he’d do, if only to spend a little extra time with you. That foot rub last night as you watched a movie; the lingering hug in the doorway last night before bed; helping you fold laundry on laundry days; the delighted way he’d rubbed the knots out of your shoulder after work simply because he said you deserved it.

You worked in comfortable silence. Each time you finished a dish, you handed it over to Eddie, and he placed them in their proper storage places. It wasn’t long before you’d finished, and the music still played between the two of you, a soft and gentle tune that had you humming to yourself.

Neither spoke as you shut the light after leaving the kitchen. Nor as he offered you the bathroom to change, and you slipped inside the small, dimly lit room with a shaky exhale. Hands rested against your lower back, feet carrying you back and forth along the carpet, eyes catching on your reflection in the mirror.

This was stupid — wasn’t it? He’d seen you fully bare before him before, and he’d enjoyed what he’d seen. And yet, the prospect of slipping into a pair of sleep shorts and a tee shirt had your heart racing. With shaky fingers, you reached down and plucked your sweater up and off your body, pausing at the sight of your form reflected back at you.

He’d liked you before. But you wondered what he thought when he saw you now, every day feeling a little less like yourself, body a home to someone else as of late. Then again, it didn’t matter, you reminded yourself. Just because you’d developed feelings for the metalhead didn’t mean he’d felt the same.

With a deep sigh, you snatched the Corroded Coffin tee you’d plucked from your dresser and pulled it over your head, and then reached down to tug on some pale sleep shorts. Once satisfied, you finished up your normal bedtime routine and slipped back down the hall, knocking on Eddie’s bedroom door for entry.

“Come in,” he called out, and your eyes immediately zeroed in on the bare chest that greeted you near his bedside table.

He was tucking away a pair of his socks into the drawer, head turning over his shoulder, eyes widening at your appearance. You mentally cursed, feeling self conscious.

“What are you wearing?”

“A shirt,” you groaned, rushing over to your designated side of the bed, wanting to get the night over and done with.

“Why do you sound upset?” he asked, dropping down onto the bed behind you, palm coming up to curl around your shoulder, rubbing it soothingly. “What did I say, sweetheart? I can’t fix it if you don’t tell me.”

He grimaced as you shoved a pillow over your head. “You just looked at me funny. I know I don’t look the way I did the night we hooked up —”

“Hey hey hey, breathe.” You groaned into your pillow, the sound muffled by Eddie’s laughter. “I looked at you ‘funny’ because there’s a ridiculously pretty woman wearing a shirt with my band’s name on it, who happens to also now be laying in my bed, okay? And remember what I said that night? You’re out of my league — that’s still true now.” He paused, feeling your shoulders relax a bit at his light hearted, if a little self deprecating, joke. “Come on, Buttercup, look at me for a second, okay?”

You rolled over in the bed, pillow falling with it, and he lowered himself down onto an elbow, running a constant and comforting line across your bicep. “Looking.”

“Just — you’re wearing that,” he repeated, toying with the hem of the shirt to stretch the logo across your chest. “The matter of my attraction to you has never changed, if anything it’s…grown because I don’t think you realize what it does to a man when he looks at the woman carrying his child, and now that same woman is laying in his bed.”

“Oh,” you squeaked out, cheeks heating rapidly. “Okay.”

“Yeah — oh, sweetheart. Wanted to make that clear, so there’s no confusion here.”

He rubbed at the back of his neck, tops of his cheeks flaming red, moving over to his bathroom. Pleasure swooped low in your belly — curled, tumbled and spread it as you caught him adjusting himself in his pants on the way.

——

“Nancy sent in one of my children’s books,” you said, crawling into bed on the second night, tugging the blankets up and over your shoulders. Eddie slid in beside you, head resting on the pillow, hair spilling in a halo around him. “She said it was really good. She thinks I should hear back soon hopefully.”

“It is really good,” he reassured, rubbing your arm comfortingly. “I wish you could see that. I’m so damn proud of you.”

“I don’t know.” You shrugged, shuffling closer to him. “My ex, Paul, kind of — well, he didn’t think writing was something one could turn into a career. Kind of discouraged it, which is why I’d put it on the back burner for a while. It’s hard to think that it could ever turn into anything. Or it was…until I found out I was pregnant. And suddenly everything changed. I want to do the best for her, be the best for her.”

He thumbed along your bicep, offering you a soft smile as you continued, “One of the things I admire about you is how you’re just…unabashedly you. There’s only one Eddie Munson and he’s just who he is and you’re literally watching your dreams come true. It’s made me realize it can happen for me too.”

“First of all, your ex is an idiot for not encouraging your dreams. I hate how society says if it’s art you’re interested in it’s not practical and not valid. Sometimes I wish I could give a giant fuck you to all the teachers who said I wouldn’t amount to anything because I preferred music over school,” Eddie started, those umber eyes catching yours in the lamplight. “But I’m glad you’re trying because I don’t doubt for one second that you have a gift. I believe in you.”

“Can I hug you?”

“Always, Buttercup.” He shuffled even closer, his stomach pressing into yours, dark eyes glinting with vibrancy. “Looks like there’s some di —”

“Do not finish that sentence!” You laughed, shifting until you were comfortable enough, forehead pressing into the curve of his chest, arms looped tight around his waist.

His eyes softened then, lips settling into a firm line. “Look, I know — I know we didn’t plan for this to happen the way it has, but our little girl really has the best mom.”

“You really think so?” He hated the sound of your voice. The lack of confidence behind the tone. Felt his heart cleave down the middle.

“Absolutely. Why…do you doubt that?” Eddie frowned as you tugged him closer, fingers twined in the back of his shirt.

“I…my parents weren’t around much. Always too busy, too worried about other things than quality time spent with me,” you admitted, chewing on your bottom lip. “I’m afraid when she gets here I just won’t know what to do. Won’t know what she needs when she’s crying, or how to change her diaper, or how to tell what she’s thinking. I didn’t have an example of all of that, so what if I’m terrible at it?”

“Can I be honest?” Eddie asked, tipping your chin up with a finger.

“Shoot.”

“I’ve never changed a diaper. Or been around a newborn other than Melody. Even then, I’d kind of waited until she was less fragile to hold her. I’m scared as shit, too,” he said, locking eyes with you. “So we’ll figure it out together, okay?”

“Okay.” You weren’t alone. Despite everything, you weren’t alone. Eddie and you would figure everything out as a team — two people navigating the unknown.

“Also, we can’t change how we grew up. But we can make sure we try harder for Elena to give her the best.”

“I don’t know how you do it,” you said, pressing your fingertips against his sternum, feeling his pulse race beneath. “Always knowing what to say.”

He chuckled, a low, raspy tired sound. “I'm flattered you think that, but I’m just figuring it out too, you know? All I know is I’ll never be the way my dad was to our daughter, and the rest I’m sure will come along with her just being here.”

He paused, glancing down to where the two of you were connected, saying, “You have me.”

“You have me too, Eddie.”

——

Tossing and turning. Eddie felt you tossing and turning all night, annoyed huffs of breath falling from your lips every time you flipped over onto the opposite side to try and get comfortable. He’d realized quickly you never did, though.

“Hey,” he whispered, testing to see if you were presently awake. A displeased groan fell from your parted lips, body flopping back over so your face was mere inches from his on your separate pillow. “Can’t sleep?”

“I’m uncomfortable,” you admitted, mouth turning downward in a sour frown. “It’s not even like I’m not tired. I know I’m tired, but my mind feels all restless. And so is she.”

At that, Eddie pulled back the comforter and lowered his head to your middle, palm spreading over the hill of it. “Hey, behave in there, okay? Your mom is trying to get some sleep.” At your laughter, he shifted back onto his pillow. “Turn over.”

“What?”

“Turn over. I’ll rub your back and we can talk until you fall back asleep,” he said, immediately noticing the curve of your brow in confusion. “My mom used to do that all the time when I’d have nightmares. Figure it’ll work the same.”

“But you need sleep,” you argued, knowing he had taken an extra weekend shift tomorrow at the shop that he needed to be up early for.

“I’ll make an extra cup of coffee in the morning. Right now though, we both need sleep,” he stated plainly, “but I won’t be able to if I know you’re unable to.”

With an exasperated sigh, you rolled back over, hips wiggling very innocently as you got comfortable, and yet in a way that had Eddie swallowing the thick knot in the back of his throat.

The past few days, being so close, sharing a bed — he’d said it would be easy, a simply platonic situation, but he’d felt anything but. Wanted so badly so many times to lean over and kiss you, to see if he nudged that part of your neck he’d discovered on Halloween night you’d make those pretty sounds he’d strum from you over and over again.

But he knew better. Respected your wishes and boundaries. Knew he wouldn’t press the matter unless you decided you wanted to take a leap again. He’d decided it from that moment weeks ago now, where you had suggested the two of you remain friends for the sake of Elena. The ball would remain in your court; forever, if you’d decided that was what you wanted.

With a thick swallow, Eddie raised his fingers up to your trapezius muscles, fingers curling around the breadth of them, thumbs digging into the space below. At the first deep exhale from your lips, he rubbed in circles, watching as your body slowly melted into the blankets further, breathing becoming deeper.

“Eddie?”

“Yeah, sweetheart?”

“What’s your favorite color?” you asked, and his cheek twitched.

It became a game of sorts these few weeks. Various questions intended for getting to know one another. Either him or you would pick a question or a topic and talk. Sometimes for hours a night, simply listening to the other. Eddie could listen to you prattle on for ages — had known as much some weeks ago now.

“Red,” he said, palms sliding down the planes of your back, grin curling upward at the breathy moan that left you. “What about you?”

“I’m not really sure,” you admitted, curling your palm beneath your head. “It kind of changes every day. Lately it’s yellow, but tomorrow it might be cornflower blue.”

“Cornflower blue, huh?” he chuckled, fingers digging into your lower back.

He mentally berated himself when your hips arched backward a bit, nearly falling into the cradle of his lap. Now wasn’t quite the time to get a hard on. It had been bad enough having to slip out of bed before you woke each morning before you realized the effect you had on him — an effect that went far beyond normal morning wood.

“What is one thing you wish you spent more time doing as a child?”

Eddie paused for a moment, chewing at his bottom lip. “I…maybe I’d have taken more pictures with my mom. I’d always been an asshole when she tried, especially when I got older. They always came out so blurry. The few pictures left of her I have are like that.”

Your fingers reached backward to circle his wrist, pausing him in his movements. “I’d like to see them sometime.”

“Definitely,” he promised, resuming his massage. “What about you?”

“Mmm, reading more books, probably. Funny, seeing as I’ve worked in a library setting for a few years now.” Your head turned over your shoulder. Eddie’s breath hitched at the softness behind your eyes. “If you could become a superhero, how would you like it to happen? Like…what’s your origin story. I feel like I’d want to have, I don’t know, realized I was impervious to fire or something. Would be pretty cool.”

“Easy,” Eddie said, mouth tipping into a smirk, “I plug into my amp, get a little electrocuted, get electric powers.”

“A true rock god.” You giggled, and it sounded like wind through the chimes you'd installed on the front porch. A swift punch to his gut, a hand wrapped tight around his heart.

You continued like that for another half hour. His fingers dragging long lines over your back, your eyes closed as you tossed question after question into the open air. Eventually, you began to drift. Body pulled further and further into an oncoming rest, yawns spilling from your gently parted lips.

For a while, you remained silent, and Eddie wondered if you’d fallen asleep. But you flipped over to face him, closer now than you had been before, and curled your palm beside your face. Close enough he could reach over and brush his lips along your every knuckle. Wanted to, he realized.

“If you could change that night. Halloween. Would you?”

He watched the worry as it crossed along your features, the fear over his answer to your question plaguing your mind. The question you’d been building up to with all the lighter ones. Exhaling deeply, he reached over and brushed his fingers along the back of your hand, head shaking slowly.

“No, because I’d have never met you. And with Elena, it’s not what we planned, sure. But…in getting to know you, I care about you so damn much, Buttercup. I like waking up to you humming in front of the coffee pot, waiting for it to finish brewing. Or when you yell at me for tossing something colored into the whites. I like cooking with you in the kitchen and I even like our couch talks when I rub your damn feet.” Your eyes, glittering with unshed tears, flickered up to his face, and he brushed the moisture collecting there from your bottom lash line. “You’re one of the most important people in my life now, I hope you realize.”

“You’re one of the most important people in mine,” you whispered back, lacing your fingers with his. “I think the massage worked, by the way.”

He smiled, watching your eyes start to droop a bit. “Tired?”

“Mhmm,” you hummed, fingers tightening in his.

A long sigh spilled from you, eyes shutting, and he immediately missed the sight of them. The glow of your irises in the dark, uniquely yours, and strikingly beautiful. Gentle fingers lifted to run along your cheek, your breathing starting to even out a bit, becoming deeper with every passing second.

“Can I ask you one more question?” It was spoken quietly, so softly Eddie had almost nodded off himself when you’d finally asked.

“Anytime.”

“Can you hold me?”

Hesitant, you sounded so hesitant, fear of rejection evident in your voice. Another reason why he hated Paul. Because you’d deserved the world and he’d gone and taken advantage of your heart.

“Always,” he reassured, heart racing as you rolled over and shifted backward a bit, his own body coming to rest along your spine. Like this, your backside rested in the cradle of his hips, your head rested along his bicep tucked beneath a pillow, and his arm swooped low around your belly. “Is this good?”

He ached with the warmth of it. With the way you leaned down and nuzzled your head further into his arm, the way your body fitted perfectly against his, how you felt so relaxed and comforted by simply being near him. Beautiful. You were so damn beautiful, like a fucking angel in his arms, and he realized how lucky he was.

“Goodnight, Eddie,” you whispered.

With you in his arms, his hand splayed over where his daughter grew, he realized what he really held in that bed.

“Goodnight, sweetheart,” he whispered back, dropping the softest of kisses to your temple.

His family — not the one he’d been born with, and maybe not the perfected image of one, but family all the same.

He’d never take that for granted.

——

please let me know what you think. it quite literally makes my day, as well as other creatives, so just throwing that out there. i also have just loved talking to you all every week. it’s been the best. also, stay tuned for next week, with chapter six titled ‘the date.’ getting closer to the end here. 🩷🥹

#daylight!eddie #lunaloveseddie #eddie munson x reader #Eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x f!reader #eddie munson x pregnant!reader #dad!eddie munson x pregnant!reader

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elliereject · 19 days

Text

ifhy .1

* in which ellie’s obsession relationship with you begins to sour as your romance with your new boyfriend seems to flourish. it seems she’ll stop at nothing to ensure your happiness, (which you’ll find with her, obviously) even if it means hurting you in the process.

* lowkey obsessive ellie, (I LIKE EM’ A LITTLE CRAZY!), angst + comfort (next chapter(s), infidelity, unrequited feelings yet also mutual pining (just read it like, idk idk I forgot how to do these),lmk if I missed anything!

* im back, ok not really this has been rotting in my drafts forever and I was reading it back and I was like damn I lowk cooked with this. It’s unfinished as of RN but this is only 1/3 of the fic im just splitting it up so u don’t have to wait months,,for it..like my other fics..DONT ASK ME ABT THOSE, cuz I don’t got an answer. IN THE MEAN TIME ENJOY THIS! <3

* mdni (but like if u do wtvr, nothing crazy happens in this chapter)

wc ~ 1.6k

pt. 2 here

Ellie Williams fucking hated you.

Surprisingly, she didn’t at first. In fact, she was in love with you, bordering infatuation.

She had seen you for the first time at the local bookstore before the semester started, you were flipping through a book about time and relativity with a concentrated look on your face. She smiled to herself when she saw you push up onto your toes to reach for another book but to no avail. She took this as an opportunity to walk up to you and reach over your head to grab it, making sure to flex her lean, tattooed arm before placing it in your hand.

Her jade eyes locked on yours and your face heated immediately, you mumbled a “Thank you.” Before scurrying past her to the checkout.

Imagine her surprise when on the first day of classes, she walks into her astrophysics course and sees you, doodling in your notebook with that same concentrated look on your face.

Of course, she sits next to you, flashing that charming smile that has sweat gathering at your hands. She tells you her name then asks for yours and learns about your major, favourite course, and how you’re staying in a little apartment just outside the campus before more students and your professor filed in. You didn’t know why but you just felt so comfortable telling her things, She laughed at your corny jokes and made even cornier ones, and she admired the doodles that covered your notebook and the little duck pen you used.

You didn’t want to speak too soon, but it was safe to say you were harbouring a tiny bit of a crush on her.

Ellie on the other hand, was completely ready to admit it. She felt her love for you grow each second she was around you. Your smile quite literally felt like the sun shining upon her, your laugh made her want to drop her studies of space to pick up stand-up comedy just so she could make it her job to make you laugh. In her eyes, everything you did was perfect. Her thoughts were completely consumed by you, you, you.

And for a few months, things were amazing! You had been introduced to Dina and Jesse and even spent Halloween hanging out with the trio watching horror movies and eating each other's weight in candy. When the holidays rolled around you and Ellie, along with the others, cozied up under some blankets and made fun of cheesy Hallmark movies while she tried her hardest not to interlock her hands with yours even after your pinky brushed against hers for the sixth time.

During finals, Ellie and you organized designated study days that usually ended in giggling at stupid memes on each other's phones or late-night food runs. Of course, there were lingering touches and flirtatious glances here and there but you were too shy to act on it and Ellie would rather die than make you uncomfortable so she kept you just at arm's length. Besides, she knew you were too timid to approach anyone else, so in a way she had you all to herself.

Then, you met him. Some motherfucker whose name she didn’t care to remember. However, she did remember the innate feeling of anger that surged through her body when you gushed to her about him and how he was a history major and the way his glasses framed his face perfectly and whatever the fuck else you found interesting about him.

She nodded and laughed and smiled along with you when you would drone on about him but would excuse herself to the bathroom to tend to the crescent-shaped wounds in her palms from digging her fingers into them so hard.

She tried her best to not show these negative emotions to you because she knew how much you didn’t like when she got mad but fuck was it hard. Especially that one night when you were out with him and you hadn’t replied to her texts in over 5 hours. Man did her drywall take some damage that night.

And when you finally did reply you had completely disregarded her message and went on to boast about the time you had and how gentlemanly he was. All she could do was reply with a dry “sounds like fun🙂” before she went back to throwing a tantrum around her room and tormenting that poor wall…she’d have to remember to buy some spackle before the end of the semester.

Then, there was the time she trekked over to your apartment with some pizza for a surprise movie night and saw the bouquet placed in front of your door. She set the box down to pick up the flowers and read who it was from, her body reacted before she could rethink. She tore the flowers from the beautifully wrapped packaging and stomped on them over and over and over until all that was left were broken stems and tattered petals.

Thankfully, you got home just a few minutes later and missed her outburst. You gasped when you saw the smashed flowers and asked her what had happened, she shrugged and lied easily, claiming it was like this when she got there. She let out a breath when you shook your head and sighed, saying it was probably your next-door neighbor who had always been a bit of a grouch.

She had genuinely thought she was doing a pretty good job of hiding her true feelings for both you and him but it was when you gleefully announced that he was officially your boyfriend she knew she was done for. You squealed and pulled her in for a hug but it felt like her heart had shriveled up into a clump of black coal and woosh like magic, her love for you had turned into something twisted, something possessive.

It was when you invited her over to your apartment to eat dinner with him that she had started considering the idea that you knew she had a crush on you and you were just fucking with her emotions for fun.

How could you start dating, let alone seeing some random ass motherfucker when she was right here! She knew she could treat you better than he could even dream of, she knew everything about you and she’d make it known to you how perfect she was for you, one way or another.

That night at dinner she sat uncomfortably as you fluttered around your tiny kitchen, adding last-minute touches to the spaghetti you made and despite the grumble in her tummy it felt like she had no appetite when she watched the hungry way he looked at you, as if you were a juicy steak and he was a starved wolf.

Once you were finished plating the food and placing it on the table you sat down eagerly and tried your best to mediate the obvious tension.

“Soo uh, Ellie, you’ve been really into watercolour recently right?” You beamed.

“Uh-huh.” She said dryly, twirling her spaghetti around her fork.

“Oh that’s cool, you know watercolour as an art form has been around since Egyptian times! It’s funny to think that like—Cleopatra was painting with water and grapes or something!” He spoke and you giggled like it was the funniest joke in the world. She shot you a look that said really? because she knows she could make a joke that was way funnier, and would expel your real laugh.

“That’s cool. You know how to shut the fuck up?” She mumbled into her bite of spaghetti.

“Sorry?” He asked and you gave her a sideways glance.

She smiled tightly and swallowed before answering, “Just said that’s cool!”

Dinner dragged on as he droned about the history of the Renaissance or fucking Christopher Columbus, she didn’t actually know, she tuned him out. After you cleared the plates, you ushered them into your cozy living room for a movie and when you excused yourself to the bathroom she plopped down on the couch next to him, subtly pulling out her switchblade.

“So, Kevin—“

“Actually my name—“

“I don’t give a fuck what your name is, matter fact I don’t give a fuck about you in general. What are your intentions with ★?”

The man tensed up as Ellie expertly spun the blade around in her fingers.

“Uh—I mean, she seems cool and dating her has been pr—“

“Cool?” Ellie scoffed, “She’s fucking perfect, and I hope you know whatever you have going on with her right now? It won’t last. Soon she’s gonna see you for the limp-ass motherfucker you are.”

He was taken aback, “What?—I’m sorry, did I do something to offend you?”

“Your whole existence offends me.” She rasped, inching her blade closer to his neck. “She’s not meant to be with you.”

He furrowed his brows, “You like her, don’t you?”

Ellie rolled her eyes, “You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”

Before he could reply you were back from the bathroom and she slipped her blade back into her pocket and got up with a firm grip on his shoulder.

“What were you two talking about?” You asked as you grabbed a bag of chips from your small coffee table and tore into them.

“Oh you know, girl talk.” She smiled, digging her blunt nails into his shoulder. Translation: don’t say a fucking word.

You rolled your eyes playfully like you even had a clue of what was going on, “He’s not a girl, dumbass.”

She shrugged, stepping away from her previous seat to plop down on the other small sofa.

The rest of the night proceeded relatively smoothly, your boyfriend had been so shaken up by Ellie’s words that even with you sitting next to him he kept his distance with worried glances toward Ellie now and then. Ellie crunched on her popcorn happily and watched the movie with a satisfied smile and a chipper aura.

— ★

🤔 shall I put out the second part? only time (and interactivity! 💝 pls don’t let this flop) will tell!

#ellie the last of us #ellie tlou #ellie williams #ellie angst #ellie au #ellie fic #ellie fluff #ellie smut #ellie x reader #jealousellie #tlou fanfiction #tlou

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yxami · 5 months

Text

Late Halloween celebration, happy nut or not November day 7

desc: yandere vampire x gn reader, mentions of obsession, stalking, slight manipulation, regular yandere stuff

All you could smell in this busy crowd of people was alcohol and mixes of perfumes and colognes. It was distracting and overstimulating to focus on that let alone the sheer volume of this environment.

But this wasn’t your first time at a party, and you could just dismiss it like always, as long as you had a friend with you.

Speaking of a friend, where is Sol? Didn’t he say he was going to meet up with you here?

You decide to go on your phone in a secluded corner you managed to find, wondering why he hasn’t responded to your messages. You let out a sigh and decide that he’s probably just busy and he’ll be coming soon.

“What are you sighing for?” Soleil pops his head out from above on the stairs, folding his arms to rest on the railing. “Did you miss me that much?” His eyes focus on your phone’s screen, noticing that you awaiting for his text.

“So cute” He said to himself, too quiet for you to pick up on. He liked that you were impatient to find him even when you just arrived at the party.

“Yeah, I guess so, um, who’s house is this anyways?” You say, brushing off his teasing and try to focus on something else. You actually weren’t sure who was hosting this party in the first place.

“No clue, I just got invited and I decided to come, of course, with you” He grins, holding your hand to lead you somewhere. “Why don’t we get away from this lame corner and find something to do” He hums, dragging you to the living room area of this giant two story house.

“Shouldn’t we find the others too?” You look around, wondering where your friends would be since he said they would also be here. “I didn’t really ask them where we should meet up” You go on your phone to text one of them, whichever contact popped up first while Sol was serving himself a cup.

“Nahh, it’s fine, they told me they’d be here soon” He swiftly pocketed your phone into his own, handing you what you assumed was his original cup before he served himself another.

“You sure? I thought they would be here by now” You frowned slightly, wondering why he grabbed your phone and didn’t return it back but you weren’t bothered enough to inquire about it.

“Mhm, they just texted me that they’re a few minutes away, drink some punch and let’s go dance” He checked his phone, pretending to see a notification that would never exist since they were never coming.

Sol only lied saying they would because he knew you would want a few more friends for comfort, but why would you need them when you have him? He’s the only thing you’ll ever need, and he’ll get you to understand that soon enough.

Even if it takes a bit of convincing.

You gulp down some punch, the sweet yet artificially made watermelon flavor went smoothly down your throat, although you could taste a hint of alcohol in it. Whether it was poorly spiked or originally mixed in, it wasn’t strong enough to bug you.

“See, if you went to more of these parties with me you’d be more comfortable” He slings his arm around your waist, even if it seems a little too intimate for a normal friend to do. He’s never followed basic standards of society and look at him! Still popular and booming with all types of crowds that would kill for his attention.

It might also have to do with his inhumanly attractive looks that would allow him to get away with anything but is it really his fault if he gets little greedy from time to time and uses it to his advantage?

Nah, at least he doesn’t think so, he’s always had humans wrapped around his finger since he first gained his vampiric abilities.

Soleil brings you on to the presumed dance floor by all the flashing lights and dancing people, bringing you up close, showing you each movement of his favorite dance. With his chest pressed up against yours to the point where you can’t tell if the quickened heartbeat your feeling is yours or his.

“It’s one three four two one, got it?” He whispers in your ear, making your face flush a new red you’ve never felt so you meekly nod against his shoulder, trying to listen to his directions so he doesn’t look at you.

He feels his fangs pop out from it’s usual retracted place, tempted to bite you from how good you smell, but he controls himself before his fangs could even graze against your skin.

“Then this is where I pick you up!” He puts his hands on your waist, lifting you up a good few inches off the ground, surprising you as you stare at him wide eyed, he looked like he enjoyed your shocked expression judging by his love struck smile before he lowers you back onto the wood floor.

“Fun right?” He giggles, instinctively fixing your hair since he always saw you doing it.

“God, you scared me, I thought you were about to drop me” You’re thankful that your face has cooled down since it would’ve been embarrassing if he caught you with blush poured across your cheeks for what seemed to be no reason.

“I’d never drop someone as beautiful as you” He coos, words coming out like slick honey and a bit too hasty. He wasn’t able to process how affectionate his words would sound until they slipped from his lips, he covered his mouth with the back of his hand, before stupidly realizing he could play it off as a joke like he always did.

“Aaaanyways, how about we get something to eat” He sheepishly laughs, still grabbing your hand as he leads you to the kitchen. He’s left wondering whether there was provided snacks or if he had to whip something up in this shit hole of a house.

If it turned out worse than he expected then he’d just take you to his house or yours and then an unexpected sleepover could happen, but he isn’t sure how much he would able to control himself since he’s seen how entrancing you look in your pajamas through your window.

The way your hair messily sits, your tired expression, the little snores you make when your in deep sleep while having a nice dream, he honestly can’t get en—

“Soleil?”

Shit, you look confused, why are you confused? He wasn’t listening, he was too distracted thinking about you.

“Sorry, I was busy thinkin’, what did you say?” He sets his drink down on the table full of discarded drinks now joined with his, he puts his full attention on you as you lean against the kitchen wall.

“I just said that it would be nice if we ate something from somewhere else, I don’t really wanna eat.. pizza from who knows where” You peered out the kitchen doorframe as you spoke, glancing at how unappetizing the paper plates covered in grease and pieces of soggy pizza looked.

“Yeah.. yeah! Let’s just go get something from McDonald’s, cmon we can take my car, you got dropped off here right?” It’s almost like a lightbulb lights in his head as he rushes you out the door, holding onto you as he did, he was so happy you practically read his mind about leaving.

“Yeah I was but what about our friends? They still have came, I think they’ll be ma—“ You were interrupted with him leaning over you to buckle you in his car and with his words.

“Nah, they’ll be fine, I’ll send them a text Kay? They probably think it’s already too late to go since the party’s dying out” He checks the time on his cars screen, pointing at it to prove his point.

“Besides, we can watch some movies when we get home, maybe you can even sleep over, do you wanna?”

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livwritesstuff · 4 months

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‘tis my birthday today (it’s gotta be one of the worst birthdays to have, we don’t need to talk about it) anyways that’s where this is coming from

(also i’m not trying to imply that jan 1 is eddie’s bday. i wouldn’t wish that on anybody. besides, he is def a weirdo february aquarius)

The second half of the calendar year is nothing short of pandemonium for Eddie and Steve and their three daughters.

Moe’s birthday in late July kicks it off, almost immediately followed by Steve’s birthday in early August, then Hazel’s in September. Robbie’s birthday comes mere days after Halloween, and from there they dive headfirst into the bedlam of the holiday season.

Much to Eddie's relief, they all made it to yet another New Year's Day, and while the girls are definitely feeling the end-of-winter-break blues, Eddie welcomes the reprieve in festivities, brief as it may be.

His own birthday is up next – though not for another month.

He’s really not a birthday kind of guy. Never had been.

He loves making birthdays exciting for Steve and their daughters (they have a whole slew of traditions and everything – there’s names spelled out in pancakes involved; it's a very big deal), but his own…not so much.

It managed to fly under the radar for the past few years, but since this year is the big Five-Oh, he knows Steve won’t let him get away with that again.

Eddie has a complicated relationship with his birthday. When he was younger and the weight of Birthday Importance was at its peak, he never really celebrated the way other kids got to, and now, as an adult, he doesn’t know how to feel the things you’re supposed to feel about your birthday.

Steve does a good job, despite Eddie’s weirdness.

His favorite, Eddie thinks, was the year Moe was born, when Steve had managed to catch him off guard by renting a tiny cottage up in Maine for a few days.

“Moe or no Moe,” Steve had asked, “I’ve got Rob and Nance on standby.”

(They’d taken Moe. She saw snow for the first time. It was amazing, and people who don't want to involve their kids in stuff are a bunch of fucking weirdos).

Steve gives him a letter every year – handwritten on notebook paper and folded into whatever cheesy card he picks out.

Eddie keeps most of the letters in a fireproof lockbox along with all their passports and social security cards and birth certificates (look – Eddie doesn’t fuck around with priceless shit), but he keeps the most recent one – the one Steve gave him for his forty-ninth birthday nearly a year ago – in the top drawer of his bedside table.

He has it pretty much memorized at this point.

It says:

Ed! (with an exclamation point and everything – god, does Eddie love him)

49.

Holy shit we’re getting old.

Writing this is making me think about all the ones from the beginning, when I’d write about our future together even though we didn’t have a damn clue what we were working towards for a while.

I think we’re in it, man. Crazy, right?

(The ink color suddenly switches from blue to purple)

Sorry for the color change. Hazy decided she needed a blue pen immediately. Hope your vision hasn’t gone totally to shit and you can still read the purple.

Anyways, since I have you hostage reading this, I’m gonna take the opportunity to discuss you, because you don’t let me in real life most of the time.

You are gorgeous. Best looking face I’ve ever seen. I wonder how much time I’ve lost off my day just staring at you (actually, not a loss. I take that back)

You suck at puzzles – I know that sounds bad, but it’s great for me. I need that to rub off on Moe because she’s getting pretty good and that’s gonna be a problem for me.

You make me laugh so fucking hard every day. I’m praying the girls get your sense of “elevated” humor or whatever you like to call it

You’re so fucking smart, Eddie. I count myself lucky for it endlessly

You are completely 100% you all the time. I’m still working on that I think but I’m getting there because of you. I’m glad all that shit we went through didn’t take that away from you.

the BEST dad. Can’t believe I didn’t say that sooner. Not to brag but our kids are turning out pretty awesome (can’t go around saying that too much though it’ll go right to their heads and then any power we have left goes out the window)

You’re probably the best person I’ve ever known. Don’t think I’ll be forgetting what a catch you are any time soon, because I won't.

Thank you for loving me even all these years later. My life is better every day that I’m with you.

We’ll keep things quiet this year. Don’t get used to it though. Next year’s gonna be a rager.

Love you always!

- Steve :) ♡ ☆

#over-the-moon in love steve absolutely writes a mean love letter #to those who get steve's sign-off -> ilysm that's an old post #shoutout to the partners of birthday-haters #y’all are doing the most and it is appreciated #steddie #liv’s steddie dads verse #steddie dads #steve harrington #eddie munson

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i-cant-sing · 3 months

Text

I feel so nauseous that I can't study, but all I can think about is friends with benefits Dabi and reader just sitting on the couch late at midnight, after sleeping together, are just basking in the dim yellow lights of the apartment. Everything is quiet, they're eating some leftovers, a crappy romcom movie is playing in the background.

Dabi swears to himself that youre nothing more than just stress relief for him, but everytime he comes over, he stays a little longer after. He doesn't have to, you don't make him, but... he just can't help being in your presence longer. Something inside him heals bit by bit when you laugh- no, let out an ugly snort before leaning against his shoulder, the warm yellow lights caressing your face, your dishevelled hair becoming an even more untamed mess when you run up to the kitchen to get the last serving.

You must feel it too... the way your hands always manage to find his hands, his cheeks, find him. Your soft skin against his rough one.

"You should use some vaseline."

You said, a cheeky smile on your face as you laid on the couch, your feet resting on his lap as he smoked a cigarette, looking at you with unamused eyes.

"It'll make your skin soft overnight." You added.

Dabi took a long drag before exhaling the smoke. "You should learn how to cook."

"Hm?"

"Your food tastes like crap." He lied, placing the cigarette back to his lips.

"Then whyd you eat half the pan of lasagna?" You asked before using your toes to pull the cigarette away from him, making him narrow his eyes at you.

"To save you from eating your own poisonous food."

"Hmm, well that isn't the meal you come here to devour anyways." You giggle before pulling your feet away. He almost pulled them back- almost.

"Stop with the cringe." He closed his eyes, a small smile played on his lips. "Should've cut your cable off. They're a bad influence on you."

You rolled your eyes before getting up, walking towards the bathroom. "Just let me know when you're coming next time. I'll try to cook something good for his Majesty." You said as you turned on the shower. "Or better yet, bring the groceries in, and I'll cook."

He glanced in your direction, where you were taking off your clothes.

Should he join you? Could he-?

No.

Dabi hadn't called again as he arrived by your place. But it looked like you already anticipated his arrival, from the note you had placed on the fridge for him to find.

"Gone out for groceries for your hungry ass. Be back soon.

Love, Y/n."

Love, Y/n.

Why did 2 words make his heart bloom? For sure, this isn't a panic attack or PTSD he's experiencing... maybe it is... love?

Dabi sat on your couch, closing his eyes as he lit another cigarette to calm his nerves. He needed it for what he about to do, as he pulled put the small box from his pocket.

He never bought groceries. But he had bought something else.

A ring.

He's sure about you, sure about his feelings for you, pretty sure your feelings for him are mutual too. He doesn't need to formally date you... you two are different. You don't need the usual courtship stiff with him, although he wouldn't be opposed to the idea after marriage.

Marriage. Was he even husband material? You were certainly wife material, the food you cooked, the maternal side he caught a glimpse of when kids came by your door for Halloween, all the soft touches you give him.

You're ready, he's ready too.

And if you say no, if you don't agree, then that's that. He'll stop coming by, and you'll move on too. Just like he will... right?

It's been hours. You're still not home and you're not picking up either.

Something is wrong.

He left your apartment and went towards the market you'd frequented. There was a lot of commotion outside the store, with people gathering around a particular spot. He pushed past them, heart beating fast as he hoped it wasn't you. It wasn't you-

There was red. Red on the concrete, red on the bag of groceries spilled all over, red on the white coat you owned, red on the leather bag he had gifted you on your birthday.

It can't be you-

"Young Y/n frequented the store so often. She was a beautiful lady, so kind." Someone said from behind him.

Was? No, no you couldn't he dead-

"And to have gone in such a horrible way too. The drunk driver just drove away. She hit her head on the pavement too. I overhead one of the paramedics say she died on impact!" Someone gasped beside him, but his eyes were focused on the sight in front of him.

Everything's red. Red red red red-

Dabi ran towards the nearest hospital, his ring lying in the pile of blood on the concrete.

As he rushed towards the hospital, a voice deep inside him said something that he'll regret forever.

I should've gotten groceries.

#yandere dabi #yandere dabi x reader #yandere bnha #bnha headcanons #yandere mha #bnha imagines

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scoobydoodean · 3 months

Text

A Fic About Dean's 45th Birthday

~3k words | slight angst with a happy ending

Dean never says anything about his birthday.

Sam has weird hang ups about holidays like Halloween and Christmas, and January 24th isn't just Dean's birthday—it was Jess's birthday too. So Dean's never made a fuss. He's asked for Christmas, but he's never asked to have his birthday celebrated. There are many years he can think of where he wouldn't have even wanted to celebrate his birthday anyway—where the idea of it would have felt hollow.

He's said before in front of Sam and Bobby, "I don't like being singled out at birthday parties, much less by God" and he figures maybe Sam has always remembered that, and probably told Cas too (if Cas ever asked).

Right. It all makes sense.

So he has no reason to expect Sam to realize that Dean actually wants to celebrate his birthday now—that he has wanted to for... the last three years, ever since Mrs. Butters insisted they throw a birthday party for Sam.

He can't stop thinking about Mrs. Butters saying they shouldn't celebrate Dean's birthday—or... rather, that she thought he wouldn't want to celebrate his birthday because he's old... and just... fuck that.

The truth is, the older Dean gets, the more his birthday feels... important. For one, he's officially spent more time not in Hell now than he spent in it. For another, 45 just feels... important somehow. It isn't 50—but it's another half a decade? He thought he'd be dead by now (well—he supposes he has been—but it hasn't stuck yet) and he doesn't know—it just feels like... like something to celebrate. He's 45 years old, and he isn't dead. He's alive, and he's happy, and things have been good lately.

He keeps thinking about it every year that passes better than the last. He keeps wondering every year. He keeps hoping every year—even though he knows it isn't rational when he hasn't said anything. He hasn't asked. He hasn't told anyone that anything's changed. He can't expect a birthday party if he doesn't communicate that he wants one. At the same time, asking for one feels weird. It feels... whiney. Nobody else is asking.

Dean's done birthday meals for Sam the past couple of years without Sam asking (stooped to making a caesar salad with grilled chicken for Sam's birthday last year with minimal grumbling) but it doesn't seem to make much of an impression. Sam is just... not much of a birthday guy. He's quiet, and to be honest, Dean's pretty sure he prefers celebrating with Eileen if he's going to do anything. She usually swings into town around Sam's birthday to take him out drinking. Well. He'll be celebrated whether he likes it or not—at least a little—at least with a meal.

Dean doesn't know when to celebrate Cas. He's asked before and Cas said something about being created before humans or their methods of marking the passage of time existed and... yeah, okay. Dean's favorite local diner sells good pie, and has a nice selection of milkshakes, including a PB&J flavored one. For the last few years, once a year, on September 18th, Dean tries to either take Cas out for one of those milkshakes, or pick one up for him. The date just feels right.

Dean puts the most effort in for Jack, with a full on cake ever since Mrs. Butters. Sometimes, he adds a bag full of Three Musketeers candy bars. Cas and Sam certainly don't raise a fuss. They all silently agree that the kid should get the birthday experience even if the rest of them are too old and jaded to care.

42, 43, 44... every time January 24th rolls around, it's always just like any other day. He thinks maybe when he turned 43, Sam might have wandered into The Dean Cave at night when Dean was watching a movie with Cas and sat for a while, then belatedly said, "Oh. Uh, happy birthday, man," while staring down at his cell phone. That was it.

Dean had brushed him off with a grunt—probably only reinforced for Sam and Cas both that Dean doesn't care just like they don't seem to care. So it isn't rational. It isn't fair. It isn't reasonable for Dean to get upset. But maybe it starts to sting a little, okay? And yeah that makes Dean feel a little embarrassed—sue him. He hasn't said anything... and he shouldn't. It's stupid. It doesn't matter. Mrs. Butters said he's too old for birthdays.

Still, despite his best efforts, Dean goes to bed on January 23rd 2024 wondering if someone will remember—if maybe, this time, they'll do something... because... he's 45. Something simple is all he imagines. They go out to eat, or... someone else makes breakfast (or tries). Sam give him a stupid gag gift. Cas picks up a pie.

As Dean falls asleep, he stupidly imagines the library decorated with a tiny "Happy Birthday" banner. He imagines a stack of pancakes for breakfast with a stupid candle in them. He imagines party hats and Rice Krispie treats. He imagines someone just... wishing him a happy birthday. Just... acknowledge it—that he's 45. That it's important.

Dean wanders into the library in the morning and it's empty and dark. He goes into the kitchen, and Sam is illuminated by his laptop screen. Dean flicks on the light and Sam barely flinches. "Hey," He says, keeping his gaze on his work... and that's it. That's how January 24th 2024 is going to be.

Dean shakes himself out of it—doesn't reply—just wanders over to the coffee pot to pour in grounds and get a drip brew going. Who knows if Sam has even slept—he's been deeply fixated on a cataloguing project for two weeks straight now. It's entirely possible he pulled an all-nighter. He might not even know what day it is anyway.

Dean opens the fridge and drags out the bacon. He considers toast too, but then decides that... well—he can celebrate his own birthday at least by making it special himself. He goes to the pantry and pulls out a boxed pancake mix he picked up who knows how long ago.

Just add milk and eggs.

Dean eyes the half-burnt-out pack of birthday candles in the junk drawer, stored there last May 18th. He closes the drawer, rolling his eyes at himself, and flips his pancakes as they start to bubble.

When breakfast is finished cooking (enough for Sam and Cas and Jack too, of course) Dean makes himself a plate and plops down across from Sam at the kitchen table.

"Big stack of pancakes," Sam murmurs—and Dean could swear there's a vaguely judgmental lilt to it.

Dean's eyes burn, which is stupid. He cuts through all five pancakes and shoves a huge bite in his mouth, staring at Sam across the table stonily as he chews.

Sam glances up and makes a bitch face, but doesn't say anything, returning his focus to his laptop

"What are you doing that's so damn interesting anyway?" Dean grumbles.

"Still cataloguing. Actually, Eileen is coming over to help me. We're gonna drag that last shelf of books into the library from the archive room and scan it all—finally have everything digitized."

Dean's heart sinks. It's gotta be at least 1,000 books.

Sam gets up from his chair. "I was gonna wheel everything in from down there and stack it on the tables before she gets here. You wanna help me?"

"Uhh..."

"Right," Sam scoffs lightly, making his way over to the coffee pot. "No problem."

"Look—I'm glad you enjoy that shit," Dean poorly pronounces through a mouthful of chewed food, stabbing another bite before he's finished this one. "Because someone has to—but moving and cataloguing books is the last thing I wanna do on my birthday."

It slips out without Dean really meaning for it to. He feels like the pancakes he's eaten are crowding his throat. He grabs his glass of water and swallows quickly, watching Sam over the rim of his glass.

"Oh," is all Sam says though—glancing at Dean, then his watch, before pouring his coffee into a mug. "Uh... happy birthday."

Dean looks down at his plate. "Thanks."

Sam clears his throat unusually loudly. "You know—I'm gonna be busy, but maybe... you ought to make a day of it," He suggests suddenly, leaning against the counter with his mug in a way that does not look comfortable or natural.

Dean immediately smells deceit, the hairs on the back of his neck rising. "What do you mean?"

Sam opens his mouth then closes it—shrugs. "You know—go out on the town... see if Cas or Jack wants to do something together. I mean—I can't go—can't back out on Eileen, but..." He interrupts himself with a sip of coffee.

Dean narrows his eyes. "Are you... trying to get me out of the bunker right now?"

"What? No!" Sam has always been terrible at lying to Dean—always seems too indignant. "I just—maybe you should celebrate. You're like, 46 or something, right?"

"45!" Dean's voice goes up a whole octave, suspicion momentarily forgotten.

"Whatever," Sam waves him off. "Go get a nice drink somewhere or go see a movie."

Dean glowers.

Sam stares back at him, before opening his mouth and looking up at the ceiling. "Okay, fine. Me and Eileen uh... need the library."

Dean cocks his head to the side a little, processing, before the realization hits. A big grin spreads over his face. "Sammy, you sly dog..." Dean chuckles. "I know what this is."

"Uh...?"

"Yeah you and Eileen are gonna catalogue some books, huh? Heheh..."

Sam scowls and rolls his eyes. "Gross, Dean."

Dean raises his hands in surrender. "Message received. I will uh... clear outta here..." Dean gets up, collecting his empty plate. "And... make myself scarce until say....?" He looks at Sam expectantly.

Sam looks at the floor, the wall, the ceiling—anywhere but Dean, before saying, "...6:30?"

"I'll make it 7:00!" Dean declares, setting his dishes in the sink then striding out.

Jack turns out eager to go do something in town, which bolsters Dean's spirits. When they go looking for Cas though, and find him brushing his teeth in the bathroom, a towel wrapped around his waist, he says gruffly, "I have judo practice."

Cas has run through a stream of contact sports over the last three years, and so far, he's stuck with judo the longest. He's very good at it, and he takes it very seriously. It's kind of funny but also kinda... well—adorable at the same time.

"Why the fuck did you take a shower right before judo practice?"

Cas spits into the sink. "There is a man attending now whose gi is off white. Off white, Dean. Not because that is the color of the fabric, but because he never seems to bathe or wash his clothing."

Dean stares at him.

Cas shakes his head, seething at his own reflection in the mirror. "I know what he's doing... It's a strategy. He and I are enemies... and I will defeat him without stooping to his level."

"You are bathing before practice as a 'fuck you' to a smelly guy?" Dean clarifies. Suddenly Dean feels offended. "Wait a minute—how come this is the first time I'm hearing about this?"

"He's new," Cas grumbles. "He just moved here, and he smells, and he tries to tell the instructors they're doing things wrong. He's annoying and I hate him. Defeating him at this practice is very important, Dean. I'm sorry. Perhaps I could join you later."

"But it's Dean's birthday," Jack pipes up.

Dean looks at Jack, surprised, but also... touched.

Jack gives Cas a pleading look. Cas looks... put upon. He's giving Jack an almost... warning look, which is weird, but... bad day for Cas, maybe.

"No no—it's fine," Dean waves Cas off, and puts on an excited smile on for Jack. "You know what, Jack? All this means is that the two of us can go fishing."

"I hate fishing..." Cas grumbles.

"Exactly," Dean says. "So you won't miss out. Join us after your practice or whatever if you want. Sam wants the bunker to himself 'cause Eileen's coming over."

Cas tilts his head at him in confusion. "What? What does that have to do with anything?"

Dean gives him a look.

Cas stares back, then realization comes over his face. "...Oh," He says, glancing between Dean and Jack. "Uh... yes... so. Perhaps I'll join you after... fishing."

Jack seems eager to do a lot of activities. It makes Dean feel kind of good that Jack seems to appreciate birthdays, because Dean is the one who made sure they kept celebrating Jack's.

They pack sandwiches and eat them by the river while they fish, and then Jack says he wants to see a movie so they go to the theater, and even though it doesn't matter because it's all the same cash at the end of the day, Jack insists on buying the popcorn when Dean reaches for his wallet.

They still haven't heard from Cas by the time they get out of the movie. His practice should have ended hours ago.

"....What if we go see the world's largest ball of twine?" Jack asks. So okay. They do. Then after that, they go play mini-golf. Dean keeps checking his phone, hoping maybe Cas will call or text for their whereabouts and join them, but a message never comes.

Dean feels not only a little stung, but also kind of worried. He ends up texting Cas.

Dean: Just checking in.

Cas replies about 20 minutes later.

Cas: I apologize, Dean. Sam has roped me into actual research.

However much he doesn't want it to, it puts a damper on things—makes it hard for Dean to keep smiling. Sam just... didn't want he and Jack underfoot? Is that it? He thought they'd... get in the way? It kind of offends Dean. He and Jack are both perfectly competent at researching and Sam knows that. Dean just doesn't like this kind of project. At worst, he would have stayed out of the way—holed up in The Dean Cave or in his room to watch movies. If Sam's goal was getting them out of the bunker so they wouldn't bother him, it doesn't feel fair. It seems... mean.

Dean's throat feels tight. He puts his phone on silent before they get to the burger joint in the evening—tells himself he's jumping to conclusions—he isn't being fair.

At least... at least Jack is having a good time—smiling ear to ear. It's good to see him happy—especially after that upsetting stint as God. The responsibility of it... the weight... thinking about it had twisted Dean's stomach in knots some nights so bad he could hardly breathe, even if he never spoke to anyone about it.

Dean pulls into the garage right about 7PM, determined not to let any disappointment or hurt toward Sam or Cas show—reminding himself again that it's his own fault that they didn't know this day was important to him.

He decided on the drive home he'll say something about celebrating birthdays from now on... around late April, right before Sam's birthday so no one catches on that he's hurt. That'll... it'll make it easier to get it out anyway, Dean thinks—that this is something he wants—if it's first in the context of Sam's birthday instead of his own. He'll say he'd like to start making celebrating everyone's birthday a habit—say it's important to him. He'll ask, and plan a party for Sam, then they'll do one for Jack, then Cas... then, when Dean turns 46... maybe they can celebrate Dean's birthday all together then. Everyone being celebrated... it just feels right. It's something Dean just... wants.

He's also cooled off on Sam—convinced himself that Sam probably just didn't want Dean to feel obligated to help on his birthday while Sam was determined to be a bore—thought he'd have more fun getting out of the house. He just wishes Sam had the sense not to rope Cas in too.

Jack pushes open the stairs that lead down into the map room, and Dean nearly jumps out of his skin as he hears a very loud chorus of voices exclaiming, "SURPRISE!"

Jack grins widely then, and says, "Come on, Dean!" He races to the bottom of the stairs, motioning for Dean behind him.

Dean can hardly believe it when the library comes into view.

His family is there. Not just Sam and Cas, but Eileen, and Rowena, Donna, Jody, Garth and Bess and their boys, Claire and Patience and Alex. Some of them are wearing party hats, others just smiling. Donna scoops him into a hug first, then Jody.

Dean is overwhelmed by the attention as he trades hugs with so many of their friends. His eyes are drawn to actual decorations. There are streamers hang from the ceiling, attached to brown balloons. There's a banner attached to a wall that says "It Is Your Birthday!"

"Alright—so I left Cas in charge of the decorating while I went to get the cake," Sam admits as he walks up and places a cup of punch in Dean's hand.

"I already told you—the balloons are the color of Scooby Doo!" Cas scowls.

"Oh yeah? And why are they so under-filled?" Sam says back, but he's laughing.

"They're perfect, Cas," Dean chokes, looking at all the effort Cas put in—overwhelmed.

A cake in the shape of Scooby Doo's face is laid out on one of the tables, surrounded by paper party plates and napkins with The Scooby Gang on them. There are... there are actual wrapped presents sitting on the the table further back. Like... a lot of presents.

"You... you did all of this for me?" Dean asks, looking at Cas and Sam.

"We lied so we could stay here and prepare," Cas admits. "Jack was supposed to keep you out of the house while we worked."

Dean glances at Jack then, who beams.

"I'll be honest though. I really thought you had me figured out this morning in the kitchen, Dean," Sam shakes his head, grinning.

Dean's eyes well up with tears. "You're still a bad liar," He croaks.

He doesn't even know if it's him or someone else who starts it, but suddenly they're all in a group hug.

"Happy 45th birthday, Dean."

"You deserve it."

#birthday party for dean 2024 #my fan works #fan works #dean with scoobies

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sanjismywhore · 6 months

Text

Scream For Us

Scream AU! Carlos Oliveira x Reader x Leon Kennedy

Warnings: nsfw, slasher kink, slight dub con, threesome

Do you like scary movies?

A/N: I know i missed halloween, don’t say anything about it

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Nestled cozily upon the plush cushions of your couch, you find yourself surrendering to the allure of a horror movie.

Just as the tension in the movie reaches its peak, the shrill of a telephone breaks your immersion. Your gaze snapped away from the screen and across the room to where the phone sits, “Who the hell calls someone this late?” You grumbled inwardly.

At first, you ignored the ringing until it ceased. You were about to turn back to the movie when it persistently rang again. With great annoyance, you threw the remote control onto the coffee table and stormed over to the phone.

Plucking the handset off its cradle, you placed the device to your ear, “Hello?” You sighed into the receiver.

“Hello.” A gravely, oddly seductive voice replied on the other end. Then you were met with silence.

“Can I help you?” You asked.

“Who is this?” The man interrogated eerily.

“Who are you trying to reach?” You retort.

“I don't know.” He eerily replied with a hint of sarcasm.

You scoffed and rolled your eyes, “I think you have the wrong number.”

“Do I?” The voice had a mischievous edge to it, making you almost smirk. Instead of responding, however, you quickly hung up the phone.

Returning to your seat next to the television, you resumed the movie, not even bothering to rewind. But despite your attempts to ignore it, the ringing of the phone persisted yet again.

After several minutes of trying, and failing miserably, to ignore the sound, you forced yourself to get up out of your seat again and retrieve it. “Hello?” You sighed.

The voice from earlier spoke, “I’m sorry. I guess I dialed the wrong number.” You could imagine the cocksure grin on his face.

“So why did you dial it again?” You asked, clearly not amused.

“To apologize.” He replied simply.

You rubbed your eyes and sighed, “Apology accepted. Bye.” As you were about to hang up abruptly, he griped in protest. “Wait, don’t hang up.”

“Why?” You raised an annoyed brow.

“Cuz I wanna talk for a sec.” He said with a hint of playfulness.

“Well, I don’t. Goodbye.” You raise your voice before abruptly hanging up the phone yet again. When the man called a third time, though, you decided enough was enough.

“What do you want?!” You snapped into the receiver.

After an awkward beat passed between the two of you, he answered, “Listen, I was just curious about you.” He spoke casually. “Why would you hang up on me so easily? We haven't even gotten to know each other,” The man was starting to get cocky.

You pinched the bridge of your nose with a groan, “Who are you?”

“You tell me your name, I'll tell you mine.” The man continued, unperturbed by the clear irritation in your voice.

“You first.” You couldn’t help but smirk, twirling the telephone’s cord around your finger. There was a pause that seemed to stretch on longer and longer the more you waited.

The movie you were watching was still playing in the background, the only thing breaking the uncomfortable silence. “What’s that noise? You watching something?” His voice chimed in again. This time, though, his voice was laced with curiosity rather than jovial teasing.

You let out another exasperated groan into the phone and turned your attention back to the television. “Just some scary movie,” You mumbled, resting your chin in your palm.

The man chuckles, “Do you like scary movies?” His voice seemed to carry intrigue with it.

You let out a small laugh as well, “Maybe. I haven’t watched many of them recently. They make me kind of nervous, though.” You admitted, playing along with his banter.

“Yeah? Why’s that?” He inquired.

“They scare me,” You admitted bluntly. “Sometimes I’ll even get nightmares.”

There was a low hum of amusement from the other side of the line, then another moment of silence. “So, you got a boyfriend?” The man finally spoke again, causing you to choke on your breath. “Or a girlfriend, maybe?” He added, his tone suggesting a flirtatious quality.

Despite being flustered by the question, you managed to give him a sharp reply nonetheless. “Why? You interested?” You mused.

“Maybe.” Again, there was a brief pause, followed by a quiet laugh, “Do you have a boyfriend?”

You chuckled softly as well, “No...” Your lips creased to form a small smile as you continued to coil the telephone cord around your fingers.

“You never told me your name.” He prodded.

“Why do you want to know?” You teased, smirking and leaning back against the sofa.

Once again there's a short pause, followed by his dark chuckle. “Because we want to know who we’re looking at.” His tone sounded much more sinister. Your eyes were instantly blown out wide. You swore for a moment your heart stopped. The air was sucked out of your lungs and you felt an icy chill run down your spine.

“E-excuse me?” You stuttered, unsure if you heard right. But you knew you heard right when he responded, his husky whisper filling your ears and making every nerve in your body tingle, “I said I want to know who I’m talking to.” He lied.

“That's not what you said.” You quickly stood up from the couch and walked towards the nearest window. Were you crazy? Was this a prank, and he was just some weirdo stalker? What the fuck was going on?

“This isn’t funny.” You pressed yourself against the glass as hard as you could, peering outside of the home in hopes of catching sight of someone standing beneath the street light, or maybe the yard. But there was nothing. Just darkness and the sound of wind whistling through the cracks of your window.

“Looking for someone?” He teased over the phone. His voice sounded deeper, it felt like his breath was close to your ear in real life. You knew there must’ve been a wide, devilish grin plastered on his face right then.

Your mind was racing as the paranoia set in; your chest rising and falling rapidly as your hands shook. You held your breath as you quickly hung up the phone, dropping the device onto the ground. Dashing into the kitchen, you grabbed a knife from the block and made sure to tread carefully around the house. Your stomach tied itself into knots as you hovered near the other windows in the house,

It felt like the temperature was rising, but all the air was being sucked out simultaneously. Your heartbeat rang through your ears, drowning out every other sound. You were practically walking in circles with your back facing the wall, observing every doorway in case a possible intruder would reveal themselves.

You began to back yourself up near the foyer leading to the front door. Inch by inch, you crept backward when suddenly your back met a firm, warm surface. “You’re looking in the wrong spot, sweetheart.” It was the voice from the phone. You felt someone’s breath tickle the back of your neck, causing your hair to stand.

Gasping, you quickly spun around to face him, eyes widening as you took his appearance in. He was tall, dressed from head to toe in a black cloak, and wore a white ghostly mask just like Ghostface.

“You should put that knife down before you hurt yourself.” He laughed, stepping towards you. His movement prompted you to take a step back, stumbling slightly as you did so.

“W-what the—How did you–” You stammered, cutting yourself off as you continued to back away. Suddenly you felt your back hit another surface.

Behind you was another man, around the same height and dressed as Ghostface too. “Where do you think you’re going?” He asked, smugness evident in his voice. He sounded just like the other one.

You were too freaked out to question anything. Instead, you raised your knife as a threat. It would prove useless though, as you were quickly disarmed when both men came closer and grabbed you.

The man behind you grabbed your knife and held the blade against your throat, keeping your back pressed against his chest. “Whatever it is you want from me, I’ll give it to you,” You muttered in defeat, looking down at the floor. “You can take my money. Take anything you want.”

“How generous.” The frontman remarked, making a gesture for the man behind you to remove the knife from your neck, “As tempting as that sounds,” he brought his face closer to yours. “That’s not what we had in mind.”

There was a short pause. “What’s your name?” He asked, tilting his head.

You hesitated a bit before answering, “(Name). My name is (Name).” You replied shakily, turning your face to the side so that you didn’t have to look at his mask.

The man behind you let out a deep chuckle and grabbed your face with one of his hands, “It’s rude not to look someone in the eyes when they’re talking to you.” He uttered.

Your heat felt like it was pounding through your chest. Maybe it was just the adrenaline coursing through you, or the fear, or the anxiousness.

Your breathing was heavier and shakier, and your body slightly trembled. Their hard bodies pressed against you. It wasn’t long before you could feel your body heating up and your palms get sweatier. Something about this situation was oddly arousing.

You couldn’t help but let out a small whimper of embarrassment, which was cut short when a finger slid under your chin and pulled your head upwards forcefully. Your eyes widened and your breaths hitched when your face was directly inches away from the frontman.

“I can see that you're scared.” He chuckled, reaching up to take off his mask. “Relax, we're not gonna hurt you.” As the mask was lifted off his face, your eyes widened slightly in shock. He had a beard and dark curly hair that hung over his eyes a bit. Despite how strong his features were, his eyes were surprisingly warm and soft. And the expression he wore caused your insides to twist into knots.

“Name’s Carlos.” He smiled, fingers caressing the side of your jaw with such gentleness, that you barely noticed it. A shiver ran down your spine, you couldn't help but blush.

The man behind you grunted, pressing himself into you. “Leon.” He rasped, taking his mask off as well. You glanced behind yourself to look at him. Compared to Carlos, Leon’s features were a lot sharper. He had blue eyes, blonde hair, and a smooth face.

Both men were equally handsome, causing you to willingly lower your guard. Something about this predicament was exhilarating to you.

Your thoughts started to warp from nervousness to a mix of fear and excitement.

But the thought was fleeting once Carlos’s voice chimed in, “Look at that.” He remarked with evident amusement, “Someone’s turned on by this.” He teased.

You felt your face grow hotter, gnawing on the inside of your lip as you soaked everything in. Your mind was screaming at you to quit having these thoughts, but your body wanted it. Your thighs pressed together to alleviate some of the tension growing between your legs.

Carlos noticed this, smirking a bit as he glanced at Leon for a moment. “You thinking what I’m thinking, Leon?” Carlos mumbled.

The two men were still smirking with amusement as they eyed you like prey. Each licking their lips, and eyes darkening with lust.

You gulped nervously, “I, uh…” Your mouth felt dry like sandpaper. No words would leave your lips, nor would any pop into your mind. You felt like you were stuck in a trance, completely incapable of doing anything.

“Spit it out,” Leon demanded calmly. “You seem to have something on your mind. Gonna beg us for mercy?” He smirked.

Before you could see it coming, both men pressed against you at once, trapping you between their bodies.

“Tell me, what would you be willing to do for us?” Carlos looked deep into your eyes as he whispered the question. Leon’s lips ghosted over the juncture between your neck and shoulders, while Carlos’s hands held your hips firmly as he loomed over you.

“Anything.” You answered, almost moaning, unable to form any kind of coherent sentence. “You can have my body. In exchange, you don’t kill me.”

Both men smirked down at you as you looked back and forth between them. “Hmm,” Carlos hummed, leaning forward slightly to press his lips softly against your ear. “I think I’ll take you up on that offer. What about you, Leon?”

Both men pressed into you simultaneously, allowing you to feel their already hardening cocks. “I have no objections,” Leon replied.

One of Carlos’s arms wrapped around your waist, holding you securely against himself, while Leon leaned in further, pressing his lips into your neck. The heat was getting more unbearable now, and you couldn’t hold back the moan that escaped your lips.

They both pressed kisses against your neck, soft and light on your skin while they caressed your body. It was as though they were enjoying this way too much. They moved their lips slowly along your neck until they reached your collarbone.

Your body tensed when Carlos pressed against your chest, causing your nipples to perk up from the friction. That's when one of Carlos’s hands cupped your face as he detached his mouth from your collarbone and brought your lips to his.

Moaning into his mouth, you were too distracted to notice how they each moved a hand toward your thighs. Before you knew it, they were roughly gripping onto your thighs and grinding themselves against you.

Carlos grunted into your mouth, slipping his tongue past your lips, while Leon groaned into the back of your neck.

This all seemed to happen in a matter of seconds, but it also felt like it lasted an eternity. The feeling of their combined weight was intense as well. You could barely focus on anything else other than the sensations being thrust against you.

After several moments passed, Carlos broke the kiss. “You want this?” He whispered, breathing heavily while tracing circles over your hips with his thumbs.

“Yes,” You breathed out quietly.

Once you said that, Leon grabbed your hips and continued grinding against your backside, holding your body firmly against his. Meanwhile, Carlos slides a warm hand up your shirt, cupping and squeezing your chest

His thumb trailed lightly over one of your nipples while his other hand dipped beneath the waistband of your pants. You bit your lip harder trying to suppress a moan as his fingers brushed against your sex causing you to shudder.

Your knees wobbled, knocking against Carlos’e legs as you struggled to control yourself. You quickly moaned out, “Please,” sounding weak and desperate, causing Carlos to grin in response.

Carlos’s fingers continued to rub you until his fingers were soaked with your juices; after which he removed his hand, and you whined.

“You’re wetter than I imagined,” Carlos commented huskily. “Want me to take care of that?” His eyes met yours, boring into the depths of your soul. you were already long gone, lost to the pleasure.

You quickly nodded your head, “Please don’t stop.” You begged, grinding your hips into his to persuade him. The effort was meaningless though as he would shove his hand back into your underwear, this time teasing your wet hole.

You gasped loudly as he began to pump his fingers inside of you, making your head spin and stomach churn. You were panting heavily, your legs trembling, holding onto Carlos’s shoulders for support.

Fuck!” You choked out, burying your face in Carlos’s chest as you tried to control your arousal. You could feel your eyes starting to roll to the back of your head as you closed your eyes tight.

When Leon bit down on your shoulder, you let out a loud cry, arching up into him. He wrapped his arms around your front, almost pulling you back onto him so that he could grind deeper against you.

“That’s it.” Leon cooed, his hand grabbing your ass. “Keep moaning, sweetheart.” A moan tumbled out of you, followed by another.

They both grinned as they watched you fall apart in their arms. Carlos thrust his fingers deep inside of you, causing you to scream out in pleasure. “That’s it. Just like that.” Leon encouraged you. “More.”

Your entire body shook violently as Carlos pumped his fingers into you faster, his eyes never leaving yours as he watched your body go through its euphoric state. “Mh…More..” You huffed, your head falling back against Leon’s chest.

“You want more?” Carlos raises a brow teasingly before slowing down his movements and then removing his hand altogether. Your gasp was followed by a disappointed sound as Carlos’s body pulled away.

He seemed to wink at you as he stepped back, allowing Leon to fully spin you around to face him. Without warning, he lifted you and threw you over his shoulder. You yelped in surprise, grasping his arm as he carried you across the room.

“Where are we going?” You asked, your voice shook from the initial shock.

“You’ll find out soon enough,” Leon uttered as he continued to carry you. Soon you were deposited onto the sofa, lying on your back while Leon stood beside the couch beside your head and Carlos kneeled between your legs.

Leon’s hands found the hem of your shirt, ripping it upward until your chest was exposed to the cool night air. Carlos teased your nipples with his fingers, causing your breath to hitch as you squirmed in his grasp.

While playing with your nipples, his tongue darted out to swirl around one. You whimpered when the sensation of Carlos’ teeth dragging over your skin as he sucked your nipples harshly.

Carlos released one nipple, only to suck on the other while looking at you. Your eyes fluttered closed when he licked down your chest, sucking gently on a spot that made your entire body shiver.

Carlos leaned closer to nibble on your chest, his fingers circling your nipples tightly. His fingers dug into your flesh before as his lips traveled down your body.

“Oh god,” You moaned, your hands clutching onto the sofa cushions.

After licking up down to your navel, he glanced up at you and then stopped. “How long can you hold your breath for?” Carlos asked suddenly.

Suddenly, there was an abrupt change in the atmosphere. You were briefly stunned by the random question, “Huh? I don’t know.” You blinked, staring up at Carlos who still sat between your legs. “Why do you ask?”

“Just curious is all,” Carlos replied nonchalantly before resuming his teasing of your body.

Before you could even blink, you felt Leon grab your arms and pull you toward the end of the couch. Your head hung upside down off the edge, completely helpless to whatever he was going to do to you.

You were met with Leon’s cock and balls in your face. “Open your mouth,” Leon demanded, his voice low and rough.

It wasn’t necessary. As long as you had a chance to breathe, you weren’t gonna turn down this opportunity. Opening your mouth wide, you obediently accepted him into your mouth.

He was slow and gentle as he thrust into your mouth. You tried to suck him down as best as you could, but soon enough, he started fucking your mouth harder, pushing his shaft deep inside and hitting the back of your throat as he did. Both of his hands wrapped around your neck, keeping you steady in the process.

Leon let out a low, satisfied groan each time he thrust into your mouth, to which you would gag with discomfort. Soon blood started to rush to your head and it became harder to breathe through your nose. You squeezed your eyes shut tightly, gurgling against Leon’s cock.

Your hands were now desperately clawing into the sofa cushion underneath you as Leon continued to fuck your face. When your throat abruptly closed around his cock, he hissed out. “Fucking Christ.”

His grip on your neck tightened causing you to let out a strangled groan against him, which prompted Leon to slam his thick cock deeply into your mouth again.

“Take it.” Leon continued letting low growls of pleasure escape his lips and he continued to pound hard into you. He was enjoying himself more now. Each stroke of his cock against your mouth was accompanied by some sort of grunt or groan that made your core tingle.

Too distracted by Leon, you failed to notice Carlos’s breath fanning against your inner thighs. Your underwear had been carefully peeled off, and it seemed like Carlos was planning to take you with his mouth.

First, you felt his lips graze your sex, making you squirm and gasp against Leon’s cock. He took you in his mouth, circling his tongue around you and sucking harshly. He continued moving his tongue across your opening, taking you in as far as possible without actually swallowing you whole.

Your moan sent vibrations down Leon’s cock, causing him to twitch in your mouth. “Fuck, keep it up, Carlos.” He grunted, prompting Carlos to continue hungrily tongue-fuck your hole. You were struggling to remain still, legs quivering and hips bucking against his tongue, trying desperately to stay conscious and not pass out from lack of oxygen.

You raised your arms to tap on the back of Leon’s thigh, signaling to him that you needed to breathe. Instead, he pushed deeper, stopped moving, and held himself inside your mouth. You instinctively gagged and squirmed against the restriction of Leon’s weight and the fact that you couldn’t draw a full breath.

“Shit.” Leon moaned at the feeling of your throat closing around him.

Carlos only chuckled against your sex, plunging a couple of fingers inside you to accompany his skilled tongue. He thrust them deep inside you before curling his fingers against that spot that made your back arch. You clenched around his fingers and tongue as your eyes rolled back into your skull.

“Oh, they liked that.” Carlos chuckled against you, removing his tongue but keeping his fingers still inside. He pumped deeper and harder, kissing your inner thighs.

You swallowed around Leon’s cock again, urging him to let you breathe. Slowly, he withdrew his glistening cock, allowing your saliva to drip onto your upper lip and eyes. You gasped for air, shuddering and moaning heavily while Carlos continued to give you head. You felt your hips bucking against Carlos’ hand, begging for more stimulation.

He grunted against you, hooking his arms under your thighs and pulling you flush against his mouth. You squirmed against him, feeling the tip of his tongue press against your slit as he thrust harder against it.

“Shit, don’t make them cum yet,” Leon grunted as he stroked his cock in front of your face. Another breath later, he positioned his cock at your lips yet again. This time he allowed you to control the pace.

You stuck out your tongue and swirled it around the head of his cock. A warm sensation slowly spread throughout your whole body as Leon let out a moan, throwing his head back slightly. “Oh fuck,”

Leon kept his hips motionless, waiting patiently for you to suck him off so he could feel how much you wanted him. The longer you went without actually taking him in your mouth though, the more frustrated he got. But he said nothing else before pushing himself forward with his hips.

He opened his legs wider, thrusting deep into your throat to the point it bulged with each stroke. Leon began to rock his hips back and forth, grunting lowly. “Yeah, c’mere.” He grabbed the sides of your neck and forced you to swallow his length fully.

You instantly felt it slide down your throat, sending shocks of electricity down your spine as your jaw locked tightly around the base of his cock.

Carlos’s mouth and hands pulled away from you, only to be replaced by the head of his large cock sliding against your entrance. The precum that was beading at the tip mixed with your fluids, lubricating his shaft so that he could easily slide into you.

Carlos groaned as thick cock slid into your hole, planting both hands on your hips. “Fuck, you feel good.” He purred, lifting one of your legs onto his shoulder so that he could fuck you nice and deep while stimulating your sex with his hand.

Your body arched back against the couch, your eyes rolling back into your skull, and tears streaming down your cheeks. It was such an intense sensation. Every stroke caused you to writhe beneath Leon’s weight, making it even worse as each one sent shocks of ecstasy through your body.

Both men groaned lewdly when you clenched around them from both ends. Carlos’s movements were deliberate and controlled, whereas Leon’s movements were sloppy and erratic.

“C’mon, swallow me whole,” Leon grunted deeply, slowing down his thrusts just to make you deepthroat his cock. You obeyed him immediately and gulped his entire dick down your throat.

Leon grunted, lolling his head forward. “Fuck,” He bit his lip, slamming his hips harder against yours, griping your throat loosely. His eyes closed, mouth open slightly as the pleasure from his cock shot up through his entire body.

He grunted loudly as you swallowed him fully. “Goddamn, I’m close,” He cursed, tightening his hold around you while he thrust deeper. He began to quicken his pace, filling you up until there was almost no room left for anything else.

Leon’s face was flushed red with exertion as his movements grew quick and sloppy. His cock throbbed violently in your mouth, signaling how close he was. Just as he was about to lose it, he pulled his cock from your throat quickly, stroking his cock furiously.

With a deep growl, Leon shot his load all over your face, pumping himself through his orgasm. It was a harsh release that forced you to gasp and sputter with every pump. Some of his releases landed in your mouth, lips, and even your chest. You did your best to swallow everything down. The sight of the white liquid dripping from his dick was utterly sexy to watch

As Leon came down from his high, he released you from his tight grip and took a step back from you.

You took the opportunity to catch your breath, letting out a soft moan in the process when Carlos suddenly thrust deep and hard into your hole.

“My turn,” Carlos grinned as he firmly held your thighs, dragging your body towards so that your head could settle fully on top of the couch cushion. This swift action allowed the tip of his cock to graze the spot inside you that made you see stars.

Your eyes shot open, head lifting to look Carlos in the eyes while he fucked you. As he pounded into you relentlessly and your hole contracted violently around his shaft every time he slammed into you.

“F-fuck…” You threw your head back, gripping the edge of the couch to ground yourself while the pressure built within you with every hit, your sex throbbing uncontrollably underneath Carlos. In your dazed state, all you knew was that you needed this.

“C’mon, baby,” He growled as he pounded into your tight hole, causing you to jerk your hips upwards. “Tell me what you want.” He continued to slam into your entrance relentlessly, rubbing your sex passionately as if he knew how to make you cum hard. You could feel yourself clench around his cock, causing him to groan in pleasure.

““Deeper…” You begged, arching your back further so that your insides could rub against his dick. He smirked devilishly as he pressed down on your hips to increase the friction between your bodies.

Leaning down, he captured your lips in a searing kiss, tasting remnants of Leon on your tongue. Your legs wrapped around Carlos’s waist while his free arm snaked around your back, supporting most of your weight as he thrust deep into you.

You gripped onto the cushions above you and dug your nails into the fabric, clenching your teeth tightly together to muffle any sounds of pleasure.

“Oh no you don’t,” Carlos growled, “Let me hear you scream.” He demanded, digging the tip of his thumb against the spot that drove you crazy with pleasure. He pressed hard against the spot that caused you to tighten around him.

“I wanna cum, Carlos! Please!” You held onto him for dear life, moaning loudly. His fingers tightened around your hips and he grunted deep against your mouth. The two of you rocked together, grunting and growling into each other's mouths as sweat dripped down your foreheads.

“Please...I need this….I need y--oh fuck!” You cried out as a wave of bliss hit you like a train. Tears spilled from your eyes. It had been far too long since you felt like this. Too long since you felt this full.

A loud groan erupted from Carlos’s lips, “Fuck yeah, cum on my cock.” You could feel yourself being lifted from the couch cushion slightly to allow Carlos better access to your hole.

It wasn’t possible to describe how good it felt to completely come. Everything felt lightheaded as if you were floating high up in the sky. You were dizzy and lightheaded as you tried to take in as many air molecules as possible.

As he pushed deeper into you, you shuddered under him, letting out another cry. It felt so good having him so deep inside of you. It felt so good to have him touch you so intimately. The feeling was overwhelming. You wanted more. You needed more.

Your arms wrapped around his shoulders, pulling yourself closer to him. “God damn,” Carlos gritted his teeth, holding you so tightly that his muscles tensed. “You feel fucking fantastic, baby.” He moaned as he began to thrust harder than before.

One moment, you were gasping and panting heavily for air. The next thing you knew, you were moaning into Carlos’s mouth.

Carlos grunted loudly once again, his grip loosening around you but still keeping you trapped in his embrace. “Fuck, oh fuck.” His voice shook into your ear. He felt his balls tighten and his cock begin to twitch uncontrollably.

The feeling of him pulsing against your inner walls was so good that it sent tremors shooting through your entire body. Carlos grunted loudly, pushing himself as deep as his dick would go, grinding his pelvis against your sex in circular motions.

You squirmed beneath his weight, grabbing onto the sides of his biceps. “Don’t stop..” You panted, wrapping your legs tighter around his waist. “Cum…inside me.” You begged.

Carlos laughed loudly as he continued pounding into you, plunging deeper and deeper. “Hell yeah, I am.” He growled, “Gonna fuckin’ explode.” His breathing became ragged as his climax threatened to overtake him.

You gripped him desperately as your body trembled uncontrollably. “Please, I need you to fill me up.” You whimpered. Carlos smirked. “Oh, I am going to fill you up, baby. Don’t you worry.”

His thick erection was so engorged that it was leaking precum inside you. “Please,” You begged, squeezing his forearm gently as you felt his dick twitch rapidly within you. “Please..” Your voice broke at the thought of not being filled soon.

You bucked your hips against Carlos’s, desperate to relieve the unbearable feeling building within your core and sending sparks of ecstasy throughout your entire being. “Alright, alright, alright,” Carlos gasped, moving one hand up to grasp at your lower back.

Soon he reached his tipping point, filling you to the brim with his hot cum. He pumped his hips wildly, making you grind up against his dick in slow motion. His eyes screwed shut as he released into you, shuddering after he emptied himself.

After the intense orgasm subsided, he slowly moved off of you, standing up from the couch. Leon joined him and stood as well. “Why’d you get to cum inside?” He grumbled as he slid his pants back on.

“They wanted it,” Carlos shrugged, giving you a side glance. “If you’re so upset about it, you can cum in them next time.” He uttered.

You perked up at his comment, sitting up on the couch as both men got dressed. “W-what do you mean next time?” You questioned.

Carlos smirked as he slid his boxers on, “You thought this was a one-time thing?" Carlos chuckled, “We’ll be back, sweetheart. That I can guarantee.” He winked, kneeling beside the couch so that you two were face to face.

He grabbed your face, pulling you closer. “So don’t be alarmed if you wake up with my cock down your throat.” He teased, pecking your lips once before pulling away from you.

Leon approached you from behind, clasping a large hand over your mouth. Before you could try to fight back or scream, you were knocked unconscious.

In your final moments of consciousness, you heard the men eerily chuckle, “See you soon, (Name),” and then you succumbed to darkness.

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