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sknyuz · 1 month ago

Note

I really like your works

If you are taking requests could you make one where you are bakus sister and dating baek jin secretly and then when he finds out all hell breaks loose but like w fluff and angst

#submission

still, i choose you | na baekjin

synopsis — the city’s colder now, but baekjin still looks at you like summer never ended. but when baku finds out, he’s ready to burn it all down.

pairing — baekjin x baku’s sister!reader

genre — alternate universe/non-canon, brother’s bestfriend, hurt/comfort, angst, fluff, f2l, open ending-ish?

cw — violence && gang elements, protective older brother behavior (baku), mentions of past abandonment, angst, smoking (once, for the vibe)

wc — ~2.5k

note: this got wayyyy longer than i had anticipated... this originally at 1.2k words then before i realized it, i ended up with 1k+ more ToT this is another fic thats been in the drafts for a while that i couldnt get around to posting lol enjoy

masterlist | join the taglist | request a fic

you used to follow baekjin around like a second shadow.

back then, when things were simpler and summer days stretched too long to keep track, you, baekjin, and your brother were inseparable. a little trio of scraped knees and spare change joined to share a single serving of tteokbokki, and racing back home in your little uniforms, backpacks rattling with stationery. you always ended up at the park near your old apartment, the one with the broken jungle gym and weeds tall enough to hide in.

“let’s play house,” you’d announce, bossy even then.

baekjin would smile like he already knew his role. “i’ll be the dad.”

“i’m mom,” you’d grin, grabbing a stick and pretending it was a broom.

and baku would scowl, arms crossed. “why do i always have to be the dog?”

“because you bark the loudest,” baekjin teased, and you all laughed and played until the sun dipped low.

back then, baekjin still tried to protect you. even when his nose was bleeding or his eye already bruising, he’d shove you behind him with those tiny fists up like he was invincible. he gave you his sleeve to wipe your nose, even if his own was dripping. when kids teased you, he stood in front with shaky legs and that same proud tilt to his chin, like he dared them to try.

baku was the loud one—your shield and baekjin’s, yelling and swinging while baekjin threw himself in with blind punches and more heart than strength. the two of them were a mess of scraped knees and stubborn pride, and you were the kid sister they never let out of their sight.

and then, soon enough, baku couldn’t stand watching baekjin take hit after hit like that—so he taught him to fight. said he had to, if baekjin was gonna keep throwing himself at people twice his size. he refused to teach you, though, said it was "too dangerous" with a scrunched-up nose and crossed arms. but baekjin would sneak you little updates when it was just the two of you, whispering about the stances baku showed him or how he finally landed a clean hit. eventually, the two of them were unstoppable—baku loud and wild like a storm, and baekjin quiet but sharp, always backing him up without missing a beat. and you were still there, watching them grow into a force no one dared mess with.

until their momentum was stopped on the day that baekjin disappeared. one day he was walking home beside you, shoulder brushing yours, and the next, his desk was empty. like he’d been swallowed up by the world without a trace.

no explanation. no goodbye. just gone.

but somehow, you felt like your older brother knew more about baekjin’s sudden exit from your lives than he let on.

the next time you saw baekjin, it didn’t feel real at first. it felt more like a memory that hadn’t faded properly.

you saw him before he saw you—head low, hair longer than you remembered, standing across the street outside that run-down bowling alley where rumors always clung like smoke, grunts and cries of pain could be heard from inside. your heart stuttered. the world didn’t stop—but you did.

he looked different. older. meaner. like life had moved too fast for him to keep up.

but his eyes—when they finally lifted and locked with yours—were the same.

like no time had passed.

like you weren’t strangers again.

you didn’t speak the first time, you could only stare at the tall figure. and then, he looked away and broke the gaze you shared first, walking back inside like it hurt too much to hold.

you kept seeing him after that—in the background. behind buildings, in passing cars, once on the rooftop of the cram school across from your own, cigarette burning down to the filter, eyes fixed on nothing. it was like the city was trying to show you he still existed. still breathed.

and then came the underpass.

you hadn’t meant to take that route. it was just late, and you were tired, and it had been a long day. you thought you could handle it—you weren’t a kid anymore. you could fight. baku finally taught you. baekjin taught you, too, just by existing.

but those boys—the way they leered. the way they used baku’s suspension as leverage against you.

and then him.

he didn’t even raise his voice. just said “that’s enough,” and it was like gravity remembered what it was supposed to do. the boys scattered like dry leaves. and you—god, you didn’t even realize you were shaking, fists already up and your stance ready to throw them at the boys that surrounded you just a second ago, until he stepped closer, brow furrowed, voice low.

“y/n… you shouldn’t be here.”

you wanted to yell at him, hit him, maybe even hold him.

you did none of that.

you walked home in silence, his presence beside you heavy like a storm cloud. at your door, he paused—hands still buried in his hoodie, the lamplight softening his jaw.

“you grew up,” he murmured.

“you didn’t say goodbye,” you replied.

he winced like that hurt worse than any punch.

but when you hugged him tight and whispered “don’t disappear again,” the only thing baekjin could do was nod.

after that, it was slow, cautious. like learning to walk across glass barefoot.

he never touched you first or let his hand linger—except that one night it rained so hard the streets blurred into silver streaks, and you forgot your umbrella.

you were trying to wait it out under a bus stop, shivering, soaked halfway through—when he appeared beside you, quiet as ever. didn’t say anything, just pressed a black folding umbrella into your hand like it was obvious he’d been looking for you.

“you’ll get sick,” you said, blinking.

“i’ll be fine,” he replied, stepping back into the storm without waiting for a thank you.

and the way he looked at you before he left—like he couldn’t believe you were real, like this was some dream he didn’t want to wake from—that’s what really started it.

a glance turned into a habit.

a walk turned into a routine.

late nights turned into a secret.

one evening, you found him waiting on the rooftop of an old building near your school, knees drawn up, a book balanced across them. his hair windswept, and he was squinting against the wind to read.

you laughed. “you’re such a nerd.”

he looked up, brow raised. “you still let your heart do the stupid stuff first.”

“and you still act like you don’t have one,” you shot back, sitting beside him.

that night, he kissed you.

that was the first time baekjin kissed you, he said your name like it was the only thing holding him to this world.

you weren’t a kid anymore. and neither was he.

but neither of you were ready for baku to know. not after everything baekjin has been through and is tied to now. you knew it was dangerous, but it was a risk you were willing to take.

and after that—well, you stopped pretending there wasn’t something between you.

even if it meant keeping it from baku. even if it meant dodging questions, meeting in alleyways, changing contact names and never walking too close in daylight.

even if it meant lying.

because what you had with baekjin—it wasn’t just a childhood crush or some thrill in the shadows. it was real. and it felt like it was yours.

something worth protecting.

you thought you were careful.

you were careful.

no texting unless it was code. no eye contact when baekjin stopped by the café you worked part-time in after closing just to catch a glimpse of you. no lingering touches, no flinching when you saw each other when you would walk back home from your own cram schools. baku didn’t suspect a thing.

until he did.

you didn’t even know he’d seen baekjin’s text, didn’t know he’d followed you out that night. you thought it was just another quiet moment, the first few drops of rain starting to fall—baekjin waiting for you by the convenience store, back leaned against the wall, eyes flicking up like they always did when you arrived.

you smiled. he smiled back, barely there, soft and crooked, and only you got to see it.

and then he reached out, thumb brushing a raindrop from your cheek. his touch tender, familiar.

you didn’t even hear baku coming.

just the sharp sound of footsteps—fast, angry—and then crack.

baekjin’s head jerked to the side from the impact, the sound of the punch echoing off the concrete like thunder. he stumbled but didn’t fall, blood blooming at the corner of his mouth.

“baku!” you gasped, stepping forward in instinct.

but your brother’s hand was already on your arm.

“let go—!” you cried, trying to yank free, but he wasn’t listening.

his grip was tight—furious—and the next thing you knew, he was dragging you across the empty street, his jaw clenched so tight it looked like it hurt to speak.

“you’re coming home,” he snapped.

“baku—stop—” your voice caught in your throat as your shoes scraped against the asphalt. “you’re hurting me!”

he didn’t let go.

not because he wanted to hurt you—but because he didn’t know how else to stop you. everything in him was burning. you could feel it in his grip. his silence. the way his shoulders trembled with each step.

behind you, baekjin didn’t follow. he didn’t call after you. he just stood there as the rain started pouring heavier, watching.

you looked back only once.

he was holding his chest like it ached, blood smeared across his lip, eyes locked on you with something devastatingly soft.

but he didn’t move.

not even when you disappeared around the corner, your brother’s hand still wrapped around your wrist like a leash.

the walk home was silent—if silence could be loud, teeth-bared, vibrating with fury. baku didn’t look at you once. not when the rain soaked through your clothes, not when your breath hitched from trying not to cry. but the second the apartment door clicked shut behind you, something inside him snapped.

“what the fuck were you thinking?” he exploded, voice rough, cracked from holding it in too long. “are you out of your goddamn mind?”

you flinched. he didn’t notice. or maybe he did, but he was too far gone to stop.

“him? him?” he shouted, pacing now, hands raking through his hair like he needed something to tear. “after everything—after he left, after he ghosted both of us, after he joined them—you thought that was okay? to sneak around with baekjin?”

“baku—”

“don’t,” he snapped, pointing at you. “don’t even try. you don’t get to play stupid now.”

the apartment was too small for his anger. it filled every inch of it, clung to the walls like smoke. your father wasn’t around—was never around—but even if he had been, baku wouldn’t have cared. he was beyond reason, seeing red, heart pounding like it wanted to burst through his chest.

“he’s dangerous, y/n,” he shouted, voice breaking for real this time. “you think i don’t know what he’s capable of? you think this is some romance? it’s not—it’s not safe. it’s not right.”

his chest heaved, breath ragged. and when he looked at you—really looked—it wasn’t just rage in his eyes. it was fear. worry. the kind that ran deep, that made his voice crack not from anger, but from something more helpless. something more brotherly. out of love.

“you don’t know what you’re getting into,” he muttered, quieter now, but no less sharp.

you opened your mouth to speak—but he shut that down before you could.

his chest rose and fell like he couldn’t catch his breath. and when he looked at you, really looked, it wasn’t just fury etched into his face—it was fear. raw and rattling, buried beneath every word he couldn’t say right.

“baekjin isn’t the same kid we knew,”

your fingers tightened around your phone.

he noticed.

his eyes flicked down to it, then back up to you. and this time, his voice didn’t rise. it sank—low, tired, final.

“i’m not gonna force you,” he said. “but if you’re keeping him... if this is what you’re choosing—then choose. tonight.”

and then he turned, walked away, the air between you thick with everything he didn’t say.

and you just stood there—phone still in hand, your heart stuck in your throat—knowing, without him saying it, that whatever you chose tonight... would change everything.

not just with baekjin, but with your own brother.

and all you could do was stand there, dripping rain onto the floor, feeling like a kid again. like no matter how much you’d grown, you’d never be more than his little sister.

later that night, long after the door slammed behind you and baku locked himself in his room, you sat on your bed with your knees pulled tight to your chest. your phone buzzed once.

you stared at the message. your wrist still ached from how hard baku had pulled. but your heart ached more.

you didn’t answer right away.

but you opened your drawer, dug through old notebooks, and pulled out the umbrella—the same black one he gave you that night it rained.

you still hadn’t returned it.

your fingers brushed over the fabric, tracing the edges like they held answers.

you thought about the way he looked at you—always like he wasn’t sure you were real. like he didn’t believe he deserved to be near you but couldn’t stop coming back anyway.

you thought about the silence he kept between you, not because he didn’t care, but because he did too much.

you thought about how he never pushed. never asked for more than what you gave. never made promises he couldn’t keep—but still showed up when it mattered.

he was here now.

in his own quiet, stubborn way—he chose you.

and the thought of losing him again, of watching him disappear without fighting to keep him this time—it felt like a second heartbreak you weren’t sure you’d survive.

your thumb hovered over your screen.

a thousand ways to say i’m sorry, or this is too much, or i can’t.

but none of them were true.

so you typed back slowly, quietly.

you pressed send, watching the messages pile up, delivered. and for the first time all night, you breathed.

whatever came next—whatever fights, secrets, screaming matches waited—you weren’t gonna let baekjin fade away from your life.

not again.

you were willing to argue, to plead, to fight your brother if you had to—but you weren’t going to lose baekjin twice.

note: i edited this bc it wasnt proofread when i posted it lol, plz bare with me i fixed repeat paragraphs i forgot to edit 😭

𐔌 . ⋮ taglist .ᐟ weak hero class ֹ ₊ ꒱ @kstrucknet | @loserlvrss @nanamiswifesatorusgf @hateateez @slytherinshua @winnie-bunnie @rexxiiia @mrgzzarella @ilyhachii @youmeshii @actuallynarii @midnight--raine @d4ily-s-nsh1ne @trasshy-artist @crowneve @juicyjam @xh01bri @onyourlisa345 @triciawritesstuff @prettywhenicry4 @dripoftheseus @rosieparkk @gacktsa @sopitadearvejas @satorustorm @mirwors @sqacewalkr @l5byrinth @sarcastic-cookie @v3n0m35 @vitaminbtob @armani78 @bbangbies @snowflakemoon3 @kibtsuji @yuuuumii @slovesyouuu @f1-lh44 @hajunz @snowflakemoon3 @hoe4wonwoo @pluslandminun @bleedingwhiteroses222 @dahlia-blossom @reiofsuns2001 @yuuuumii @feralmaneater @fandomout @ilovethe141 (ask to be tagged or removed)

50 people on the taglist.. holy shit might need a pt 2 soon

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ofbatsandballads · 5 months ago

Note

Yay! I’m so glad you take requests. Feel free to decide if you want to write this or not, it’s fine either way :)

So, I was thinking about Jason dating civilian!reader, and her coming home all disheveled and horrified. Since she knows about him being Red Hood, she can confide in him. She had just killed someone for the first time, whether it was an accident, self defense or whatever, you decide.

I was just wondering how Jason would handle this situation since usually he’s the one doing the killing.

Thank you <3

oh, this is amazing food for thought. I actually think he’d be the very best person to come to in such a situation because he has experience with killing. who’s gonna understand you better than him? literally nobody. had something similar to this in my drafts but now my mind is whirling in a whole host of directions. excellent prompt, nonnie!

jason todd x f!reader. warnings include graphic depictions of violence and killing (in self defense), attempted and failed sexual assault, the aftermath of both events (reader’s in shock), hurt/comfort. this one’s got heavier subject matter so please do mind the warnings, folks. i did way too much research of the Gotham Knights map for this, but it’s my favorite depiction of the city so so be it. also reader and Jason live in the Belfry bc i said so (personal hc that i may or may not elaborate on some time). and one last thing! the romanized Arabic at the end is “ح��اتي ” which translates to “my life”. I love the idea that Jason picked up Arabic terms of endearment from Talia calling Bruce just about every one she could.

Jason wakes up to soft afternoon sunlight shining on his face. He grumbles out a gravelly hum and scrunches up his face in protest against being awakened when he was sleeping so nicely. He reaches out to find the comforting warmth of his beloved beside him, to pull you in and bury his face into your hair so he can hide from the morning for a bit longer.

All he finds are cold sheets and an empty pillow.

He bolts upright. Something’s wrong. You never, never wake up before him. He doesn’t even register the way that the sudden abundance of light stings his eyes. He takes stock of his surroundings, his training executing on autopilot. The open layout of the Belfry lets him get his bearings in seconds. He doesn’t see you anywhere from the bird’s eye view of your loft bedroom. There’s no smell of food in the kitchen nor any mess that would indicate you’d been working in there. The living room space, fully visible below, is empty too. The only enclosed space in your home, the bathroom that’s just around the corner from your bedroom, is dead quiet. No running water, no sweet singing, no familiar coughing from swallowed toothpaste. And without so much as leaving your bed, Jason’s already come to a conclusion that sends his heart pounding and dries his throat. You’re not here.

He’s up and grabbing the 9mm taped under your bedside table in the span of a few breaths. He moves through your home methodically, like he’s clearing one of Gotham’s criminal hideouts. There’s no sign of a struggle. Nothing’s been disturbed. He’s not surprised by this—barring Wayne Manor, the Belfry is the most secure building in Gotham. That’s precisely why Jason had moved you both here once you decided to live together. He checks the coffee table and sees that your phone and wallet are gone. A different type of fear takes over now. One that makes his heart ache. What if you’ve finally had enough, finally seen that he’s not good enough for you, not worth sticking around for? It makes him sick. He swallows hard and tries to clear the blistering thought from his head. No, that’s not you. You’re not cruel. You’re kind and gentle and loving. You wouldn’t hurt a fly. And you wouldn’t hurt him.

The sight of gears turning in his periphery catches his attention. He sees the cables pulling and the security panel go green, and he’s running to the elevator doors damn near ready to pry them open. He hastily tucks the 9mm into the waistband of his pajama pants, easily within reach if he needs it. Relief floods him when the huge metal doors grind open and he sees your pretty face on the other side. Then his heart drops when he realizes that that pretty face is scraped and splattered with blood.

Your hair is tangled and wet, dripping dirty water down your neck and staining the bright red of his your favorite hoodie. Your hands, which shake as they reach blindly towards him, are stained crimson and battered too. But it’s your eyes that haunt him. You look broken.

“Jay,” you croak out, unable to summon anything but a plea for the one person who can keep you safe.

The tears fall from your eyes at the same time that you collapse into Jason’s arms. He drags you inside and locks down the Belfry. Jason wants to panic but feels a strange sense of calm about himself. As loathe as he’d be to admit it, he finds himself falling into Bruce’s habit of assessment and action.

“Baby, what happened?” he asks, voice steady and assured.

You don’t even hear him. You’re digging your hands into his shirt, clinging on to him like he’s the only thing keeping you tethered to Earth. He may very well be. He feels you going rigid and cold and he knows he has to get you stable before you descend further into shock.

“Listen to me,” he says firmly, adding on and enunciating your name for emphasis.

That sparks some semblance of lucidity. Jason hasn’t called you by your name in months, much preferring you be his baby or his sweetheart or his doll, or simply his. If it jars you back to reality, so be it.

“I need you to tell me what happened,” he demands gently.

It all pours out of you like a flood.

You’d woken up early by chance this afternoon. Normally you’d just close your eyes and snuggle closer to Jason to catch a couple more hours of sleep, but you wanted to do something nice for him. So you’d gotten up and gone to Lemay’s Flower Emporium in Gotham Heights. You’d bought him the prettiest bouquet of red and pink roses, so big that you had to hold on to it with both arms. The taxi ride from the Heights back to Coventry Station went fine. You were almost home. So close that you could see the clock tower where your heart was sleeping peacefully.

Then you stopped at Commerce Avenue Station. You just wanted to get him some pastries from the little bakery tucked away on 3rd Street that you both love. It was a decent walk; you knew that. You also knew that Jason wouldn’t want you to go out of your way by yourself. But it was morning and you were a grown woman and you could handle yourself, right? Well, that’s what you thought until a pair of hands clamped down on your shoulders and yanked you violently into a side alley.

Jason had prepared you for something like this. You’d spent countless evenings with him teaching you self defense techniques in the training area of your home. None of it mattered because the man that had you by the shoulders slammed you so hard into the brick wall that all your thoughts went hazy. Before you could regain your footing, you were shoved to the ground. The bitter sting of your palms scraping open pierced through the fog, as did the crushing weight of the vile man on top of you. Fear shot through you as the man started tugging at his belt and you realized that this wasn’t intended to be a mugging. You tried to scream but a grimy hand clamped over your mouth, hitting your head against the ground and soaking your hair in dirty rain water and blood.

Your eyes darted around in search of someone—anyone. But no one was coming. You felt fingernails scratch against your stomach as clammy hands curled into the waistband of your sweatpants and suddenly you saw your savior. A brick from the damaged alleyway laid within reach. You didn’t even think when you grabbed it, when you swung it as hard as you could into the side of the man’s head. The corner hit his temple and he crumbled to the side. You rose to your knees and hit the man again. And again. All you could remember were Jason’s firm instructions: if someone makes it a choice of you or them, you make sure that it’s you no matter what it takes.

“I don’t r-remember anything else,” you sob into his chest. “There was so much blood, Jason. And his head—oh, God.”

Jason shushes you gently. He holds you tight in his arms like he’s terrified that if he loosens his grip even slightly, you’ll fade away on him.

“Don’t think about it, baby. You did what you needed to do. You protected yourself. I’m so proud of you.”

“I killed someone, Jason. I killed someone.”

You look at him wide eyed—afraid, horrified, guilty. No. Jason won’t have that. You will not feel guilty over some lowlife scumbag who wanted to hurt you, who probably would have killed you. Jason can’t even stomach the thought. He wants to put a bullet into whatever’s left of that predator’s head. No, the only shame in you killing that man is that you got to him before Jason could.

“I need you to listen to me,” he says, repeats your name again for emphasis. “You. Did. Nothing. Wrong.”

“Someone’s dead because of me, Jay,” you argue, gripping him tighter as your panic rises.

“Baby, do you know how many people are dead because of me?” he asks. “Far, far more than I’d ever want you to know. Do you think I’m a monster, honey? That I did something wrong?”

He knows it’s an apples to oranges comparison. But you’ve used this same tactic on him so many times that he also knows it’s effective. Every time he demeans himself for something, you ask if he’d treat you the way he treats himself for the same thing. The answer is always no.

“No!” you reply emphatically. “You protect people. You do it to keep people safe.”

“You did it to keep yourself safe.”

“But—”

“No buts. Or ifs. No ands, either, just in case you get any ideas,” he says lightly, brushing a speck of blood off your cheekbone.

You smile at his stupid little comment and he feels the tension in his body release just slightly. As long as there’s light back in your eyes for even a moment, he knows that you’ll be okay. He picks you up, lets you cling your arms around his neck and bury your face in his chest as he carries you to the bathroom upstairs. He runs you a bath and, after asking repeatedly if you were okay with it, undresses you and washes the blood and grime from your body. He wraps you in a big fluffy towel, dries and brushes your hair, and tends to your injuries before he bundles you up in his comfiest hoodie and pajama pants. He soothes you when your tears make their return and never leaves your line of sight because he knows he makes you feel safe.

The thought gnaws at him throughout the day. It outright scalds him as he lies in bed with you after deciding to skip patrol. He’s failed you. Failed to protect you, failed to ensure nothing harms a hair on your head. He’s failed at taking care of you, the one thing that matters more to him than anything else. He’s seconds away from spiraling into self hatred when your sweet voice comes calling, soft and pleading.

“Jay…please stay with me,” you say softly.

Your eyes are clear and focused again. You squeeze his waist tight where your arms are wrapped around him, like you’re physically trying to anchor him in place in your bed. The look on your face says that you know exactly where his mind was headed. You see right through him. It makes him feel more vulnerable than anything else, and it surprises him how much he loves the feeling. And Jason, as always and for eternity, can’t bring himself to deny you. So he pulls himself together and shoves all his self loathing down. He can deal with it later—you need him more right now.

“I’m right here, hayati. Not goin’ anywhere, I promise.”

He kisses you gently and feels some of that self hatred wash away when you chase after him for more goodnight kisses. He feels it dissipate even more when you fall asleep in his arms with a soft smile on your face. It’s all but forgotten as he drifts off too, safe in the knowledge that you’re here with him, that he can feel your heart beating pressed tight against his own.

#jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #red hood x reader #red hood x you #remy writes 🖋️#answered asks #anon I love this prompt so much #thank you for giving me such good inspo bc it broke my writer’s block

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filmtv2022 · 3 days ago

Text

What's Got You Smiling? (18+ MDNI)

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Reader

Story: Coming home from college for a long weekend, you plan to spend every waking moment with Eddie, enjoying each other's company and trying not to fall apart. Time away has done nothing but make the heart grow fonder when it comes to Eddie. But no matter how hard you try, the reality of college life is far more than you expected. On the verge of losing your dreams, you come back to the one thing that always has you smiling, Eddie.

Warnings: Sexual content/SMUT (oral - both parties receiving, unprotected p in v), language & financial struggles.

A/N: Whew! Well, this one has been brewing for a while, and I hope you enjoy it! As always, I apologize for any mistakes! One more unpublished work has made it out of the drafts.

Eddie scurried around the living room, tidying up what remained of the general mess that decorated the already cluttered space. Broken and lumpy pillows were tossed onto the tattered couch as the curly-haired boy tossed his messy mane out of his eyes. Standing to his full height, Eddie glanced around the room, scanning for any remaining mess. From his spot, his focus landed on the empty pizza box and beer cans that sat scattered on the kitchen counter.

“Shit.” He muttered under his breath. Across the room, Wayne emerged from the hall already dressed in his fishing gear as he ambled toward the last dregs of coffee in the pot. The older Munson deftly avoided the whirlwind that was his nephew as he hurried through the kitchen, tossing trash into the open-mouthed bin.

The chipped laminate of the countertop bit into his back, releasing a groan that only came with age. Wayne sipped the black sludge that filled his mug, watching the frenetic energy of Eddie's cleaning spree.

“When's she gonna be here?” Wayne asked, nose still buried in his morning cup of joe.

“Noon.” Eddie paused for the first time in several minutes, a dumb smile plastered on his face, “She was gonna try to get on the road early.”

“You tell ‘er I said ‘hi’ ”. The gray-haired man discarded the empty cup in the sink, rinsing it before fishing the wallet from his pocket. “Here, some cash for food, my treat.”

“Thanks, Wayne. An’ will do.” Eddie snatched the bills from his uncle, stuffing them in his back pocket as he continued to clean.

“Slow down, kid. You're gonna break something by hurrying around like that.” A chuckle accompanied Wayne's half-hearted joke.

“Jus’ want it to be good, ya know?” The quip was full of worry and nervous anticipation. This level of care was reserved only for you.

Spurred into action, Wayne slowly made his way to Eddie, ignoring the ache in his knees and back. With perfect timing, he was able to catch his nephew by the shoulder, holding him in place for just a moment. Ever the father figure, Wayne gave Eddie a once-over, admiring the frazzled young man before him. Wild curls framed his face, lying over his shoulder. The white t-shirt he'd chosen for the day was nicer and newer than what the young man usually gravitated toward. Even the frayed black denim that clung to his hips was less battered than normal.

“It's gonna be great, son. Besides, since when has a little clutter ever mattered to her before? Never.” Wayne nodded, encouraging Eddie to relax, “She's put up with your messy ass for years, that's not gonna change. Okay?”

“Okay.” Eddie grinned a bit wider. The younger Munson's shoulders dropped, the weight of his anxiety dissipating with the steadiness of his uncle's words. Wayne continued to babble about emergency contacts as if the pair of you weren't full-blown adults who were both fully capable of taking care of yourselves.

Shortly after, Wayne took off for his fishing trip, leaving Eddie alone in the trailer. Try as he might to occupy his mind, nothing worked. Saturday morning cartoons played silently in the background, useless as a distraction. The steady bounce of his knee from his seat on the couch had the rickety floor practically screaming. His ears were keyed to full attention, listening for the sound of a grumbling engine peeling down the lane toward the trailer. It was a sound he knew we would never forget.

Sooner than expected, the telltale sign of your approach poured through the thin siding. Eddie sprung to his feet and took off toward the door. Outside on the porch, he shielded his eyes from the sun, squinting in your direction. The pounding of his heart was loud in his ears, nearly blocking out the sharp grind of your brakes as you came to a stop. The beautiful sound of your voice snapped him out of his stupor. You were really here, and in a few quick strides, he was to you, arms open wide to pull you in.

“Eddie!” You laughed into his chest on an exhale, wrapping your arms around his lithe frame. He matched your enthusiasm, holding you tight in a monster of a hug. The sound of your name on his lips warmed you to the core.

Not ready to let go, you buried yourself in his chest, inhaling the sharp scent of tobacco and body spray that clung to him. Eddie whispered into your hair, hoping to make the moment last.

“I missed you so fuckin’ much.” You could feel the warmth of his breath on your skin as he spoke.

“Miss you too, Eds.” Your hands bunched the back of his shirt, twisting the fabric between your fingers. The two of you stayed like this, letting time pass unchecked, and the morning sun beat down on you. Guard down and safe, you were caught off kilter by the wave of emotions that rolled over you. The bridge of your nose burned, crinkling your face in an attempt to keep the feeling down. The protective embrace made that task difficult. A steady palm on the low of your back finally broke the dam.

Eddie could feel the way you held him tighter, shoulders stiff and face hidden from view. With a shaky breath, he held the back of your head, wishing for you to look at him.

“Hey, what's wrong?” Genuine concern built at the sight of your watery eyes.

“Nothing, I jus’ - I missed you. ” You hiccuped, unable to find the right words to explain how you were feeling. On the balls of your feet, you captured his lips, letting the depth of your love bleed into the embrace.

“Me too, Sweetheart.” He cooed, dipping his head to speak in soothing tones along the shell of your ear. Eddie rocked side to side, willing you to relax in his arms. The less-than-delicate art of distraction managed to work. You went boneless in his arms and made no move to rush inside. His chin rested on the crown of your head, giving him space to breathe through it all. The last time you'd spoken on the phone, he heard the exhaustion in your voice. Work and school were beating the shit out of you, but everything was normal, or at least that was how it seemed. Fearing he'd missed something, Eddie made it his mission to bring you the rest and rejuvenation he knew you needed so desperately.

“Sorry, Eds… I didn't mean to get all… well, whatever that was.” Weak and weary, you knew there was no judgment, and yet you couldn't help the habit of apologizing.

“You've got nothin’ to say sorry for, Sweets.” Feeling you lift from his chest, he matched you. Red rimmed eyes and puffiness painted a clear picture of the stress you'd been under.

“Why don't we go inside, yeah? We can talk if ya want or we can… take a nap?” His tone rose at the end, suggesting that he wanted the second option without saying it outright. You took the bait without question.

You couldn't help but chuckle, “A nap sounds so fuckin’ good.”

“Nap it is then.” Eddie very reluctantly let you step from his arms. He trailed behind by half a step, letting you lead the way. Sheepishly, he watched you take in the familiar sight of his humble home.

“Jesus Christ, Eddie… It's so clean.” You gaped at the tidy rooms.

“You say that with such disbelief.” Still behind you, he beamed with pride at your compliment.

“Can you blame me?” You glanced back at him, teasing him with a soft smile.

“Nah, you're right, you always are.” Eddie came to your side, his hand gently resting on the low of your back.

“Not always.” You couldn't meet his eyes, and for the second time that day, he found himself uncertain of how to proceed.

“Come on, you said nap, so… let's nap.” He waggled his eyebrows, nudging your shoulder with his. Down the hall in a few short strides, you followed in his wake.

The inside of his bedroom was just as you remembered it. Cassettes were stacked on every available surface. Random notebooks filled with unfinished song lyrics were tossed about with far too many broken guitar picks to count. And of course, his prized possession, the beautiful blood red guitar, hung from the wall. You perched yourself on the corner of his bed, taking it all in as Eddied rummaged about his dresser. Whatever he was looking for took longer than expected to find, giving you plenty of time to admire the sight before you.

From the relative privacy of your spot, you noticed the way his t-shirt sat perfectly over the muscles of his back. Each movement displayed his quiet strength, leaving just enough to the imagination to drive a person wild. While the black jeans hung low, letting a sliver of his plaid boxer peak over the top, and only serving to perfectly highlight the shape of his thighs. But it was the stunning grin that greeted you as he turned back in your direction that set your soul alight.

“Here.” he came to your side rather than tossing the shirt in his hand. “figured you'd want something comfy.”

The threadbare cotton of his old Metallica shirt was buttery to the touch. Eddie sat beside you in silence. His focus flitted between your face and your hands, where you worked the fabric between your fingers.

“You wanna talk about it… or?” He opened the floor for a conversation you knew was needed, but so earnestly wanted to avoid.

Avoiding the pit in your stomach, you switch focus. “I can't believe you kept this.” You could feel him watching you, observing, constant and kind. The silence that bloomed between you was far heavier than he'd anticipated for what was meant to be a weekend full of fun, lighthearted, and joyous hours spent with the person he cared about most in the world.

You'd promised you'd keep it together, that you'd shove down the worst of yourself for a few short days, but that was becoming an impossible task. Perhaps that was something that needed to be added to your growing list of failures, moral and otherwise.

“You know it's yours if you want it, right?” Soft and tender, Eddie scooped your hand in his. Palm to palm, he rubbed tight circles in the divot beside your thumb. A shaky breath was followed by a jagged huff of laughter as you snapped yourself back to the present.

“I know… but then what reason would I have to come back to this rust bucket of a trailer?” Real laughter blossomed from the pair of you, shoulders bumping with the shake of your bodies. The mood was lighter than it had been before. The sound of his joy was the antidote to everything that ails you.

“Whatever you say. I guess if you won't be gracing us with your presence here… that means I'll have to come annoy you there.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Your gut twisted, anxiety hot and heavy. Twisting to the side, you tucked a leg up on the bed, “Though I do have to warn you… my prude of a roommate might just burst into flames with your metalhead ass traipsing around… now that I think about it, maybe we should plan a trip, like right now.”

Sarcastic as ever, and hiding the truth, you grabbed for his hand, making a show of pretending to drag him out of the room. Eddie went with you, taking a few long strides toward the door before stopping dead in his tracks. Hand still in yours, he tugged gently, turning you to face him. The humor in his eyes melted to something far more intimate. Crinkled lines formed at the corners of his doe eyes.

“You say the word and I'm there.” Eddie's broad palms toyed with the bottom of your hoodie. He made no drastic moves, staying wordless as he let his touch drift higher, skimming over your ribs. The stiff wire of your bra met his fingertips, the first true barrier he'd encountered. A faint nod of acquiescence pushed him to keep going. In an awkward dance, he managed to rid you of your hoodie, discarding it at your feet.

Woozy and breathless, you held the sides of his neck, your fingers buried at his nape. Eyes fluttering shut, you focused only on the lazy patterns Eddie dragged over your skin. His fingertips brushed over sensitive spots, sending shivers down your spine and catching the air in your lungs. With fluid practice, he unhooked your bra, pushing the straps from your shoulders with ease.

“This alright?” Eddie hesitated, drawing close enough for his lips to brush yours.

“Very.” The huff of his laughter fluffed your hair at the temple.

“Good.” He captured your mouth, the embrace languid and full. The taste of mint on his tongue mixed with a hint of the cigarettes he was so unwilling to give up. Feather-light and teasing, he ghosted over your chest, rolling your nipple between his fingers. A tiny gasp of surprise and pleasure sprang free from you, and he swallowed it with pride.

Eddie let his free hand wander, drifting to the rolled waist of your sweatpants. The worn cotton was thin under his touch as he played with the edges. Your hips bucked, shocked at the sudden intrusion but desperate for more. A shudder ripped down his nerves at the feeling of you, ready and waiting for him. Deft fingers slipped further down over your underwear, letting the pressure build as he reached where he knew you wanted him the most.

“Fuck, Eddie.” You tugged at his curls, your fist sturdy and insistent. Eyes closed, you fought against the distractions all around, wanting only him. You pawed at him, grinding against the heel of his palm that pressed to sweetly against your clit.

“Use your words, Sweetheart.” He pulled back, holding you by the chin. His gaze was syrupy and lust-filled. The chocolate of his eyes was lost in the inky black of pupils. “Tell me what you want.”

You choked on your thoughts, the words jumbled in a messy heap at the back of your throat. A needy moan was all you could manage.

“I need you to say it,” Eddie demanded, forceful and sultry. His lips ghosted over yours, close enough to touch, but holding you at bay. The delicious attention he’d been giving dropped away fast. His grip at the base of your neck tightened, keeping you in place, just far enough away for him to look you in the eyes. His voluminous curls fell around his face, sticking to the light sheen of sweat at his temples. There he waited, willing and eager for your answer, but adamant in his demand.

“I wanna feel you, Eds. Let me-” He cut you off, slamming your mouths together. Tongues clashed in a desperate embrace. You both needed more from the other. Moving with the clumsy sway of one who’d grown too quickly for his body to catch up, Eddie turned you around, walking back toward the bed until your knees bumped the mattress.

You buckled, falling more harshly than he’d wanted, but it didn’t matter. Eddie went with you, letting his weight rest between your thighs. Terrified of losing the momentum, he wrapped a broad hand around the outside of your leg, hauling it higher on his hip. A force of habit and instinct had him rolling in your core, painfully hard and thankful beyond measure for the tiny bit of relief it gave him.

You clawed at him, raking up under his t-shirt and marking the swath of pale skin with angry pink lines. “Too many-”.

He knew exactly what you meant and made quick work of his shirt, throwing it far away into the vast abyss of his room. Free to explore his exposed skin, you nipped at his shoulder, soothing the bites with your tongue as he did the same along your neck. The marks were sure to be bold and unmistakable tomorrow, but neither of you gave a flying fuck about that.

Eddie worked his way lower, burying his face in your chest. The faint murmur of words against your skin sent you reeling. You had no idea what he’d said, but it didn’t seem to matter. He continued, dipping lower, kissing every inch of you he could find. The top of your sweats came into view, blocking his dissent. Tired of waiting, he gripped the fabric tightly, tugging it roughly down your body. They, too, were discarded in the depths of his room, where they were to be forgotten until social graces demanded that the pair of you clothe yourselves once more.

Knelt beside the bed, Eddie traced messy patterns from ankle to knee, following with his lips in the wake. Shivers raced down your spine, anticipation growing with every centimeter he gained. You reached for him, not quite able to find purchase in his curls. Mouthing at your inner thigh, he whispered his next demand.

“I wanna see your eyes.” He pulled back a bit, waiting for you to move, and it didn’t take long. Sitting up on your elbows, you locked eyes with him. A sly smirk was all you got before he returned to the task at hand. Hot, open-mouthed kisses paved the way to where you wanted him most. The threadbare cotton of your panties was damp with slick, and it sent him reeling.

The sturdy bridge of his nose nudged at your core, earning him a delicate whimper. His huff of laughter was warm, but it paled in comparison to the heat that rolled off you. Careful and slow, he slipped his fingers beneath the fabric, pulling it to the side, groaning at the sight. Eddie’s gaze flicked to you, ensuring that you were keeping your end of the bargain. A haze had settled over you, weak and boneless already, and he couldn’t wait to take you apart.

Eyes glued on you, he dipped his head, running the flat of his tongue over you. A rumbling groan broke, unburdened and beautiful, blending with a wicked gasp that erupted from you. Your fists clenched the blanket as he adjusted his position so that your legs fell over his shoulders. “Doin’ so good for me, Baby Girl.”

“Fuck, Eddie.” You couldn’t help it. Your back arched as he dove back in for more. The elastic of your panties bit into your skin, the harder he pulled them out of the way. Eddie worked his way higher, finding your clit. He played you perfectly, licking and sucking just where you needed. He knew you were getting close. The plush of your thighs bracketed his ears despite his attempts to hold you still, but he didn’t care.

Calloused fingertips entered the dance, curling wetly against that spot that drove you wild. Sucking air through unsteady lungs, you moaned gritting your teeth as your release broke white-hot over you. Nerves fired in waves as you clenched around him. Eddie relented only when he felt you go lax in his arms, your body twitching with his continued attention.

Eddie crawled back up your body, capturing your lips. The heady taste of you was heavy on his tongue. He hummed into the kiss, letting the pair of you breathe for a moment, but knowing full well, neither of your were done.

“You still have too many clothes on, Eds.” You chuckled lightly, reaching between you to brush over his hard-on. Blindly, you felt for his belt, deftly sliding the ends apart. Eddie let you work, focusing instead on teasing the spot along your neck that he knew was enough to get you going again. The pop of his button was followed by the zip of his fly, allowing the heavy weight of his jeans to slide down his hips.

Slow and steady, you slipped your hand inside, palming over his dick. Eddie whimpered at the touch. He strained at the blue plaid boxers, which were his favorite. On a sudden burst of confidence, you threw your weight up from the bed and turned, pinning Eddie beneath you. Your hips bracketed his as he stared up at you with wide-eyed surprise.

Your palms rested on his chest, tracing the lines of his tattoos. Black curls spread wide around his face, framing him in darkness. Eddie was, without a doubt, stunning. His strong hands found your hips, ready to follow you in whichever direction you decided to take. Your chest rose and fell in heavy breaths, keeping you still even with the reverberating energy that ran through your body. Leaning forward, you mouthed at his chest, pulling his nipple between your teeth and pulling lightly.

His hips jolted at the feeling, and you took advantage. Rolling your hips, you let your weight glide over his erection. Heavy pants filled the space around you, and it was glorious. Filled with a surety you only ever felt with him, you kept going. Face to face with Eddie, you kissed him languidly, making him chase you for more.

Moving along his jaw, you could hear every tiny sound he tried to valiantly hold in drift across the shell of your ear. Reaching his, you nipped at the lobe before leaning in further to whisper.

“I wanna taste you.” You felt him buck beneath you, “You want that too, Big Boy?”

“Yes… fuck yes.” Eddie was breathless, barely able to form a coherent thought. His eyes were screwed shut as he tried to hold himself together.

“That’s what I thought.” Hovering over his face, you smirked into the kiss. It was fast and hardly enough to satisfy.

Without warning, you stood from the bed. At this, Eddie’s eyes flew open, following you, but making no move to sit up. He watched with rapt attention as you worked your ruined panties off your body. The limp garment fell to your ankles, where you flicked it away with your toe. Eddie couldn’t help himself. His gaze raked from head to toe, committing this version of you to memory.

“You still with me?” You asked, getting close enough to put a hand on his knee.

“Yeah.” He nodded his head a bit to vigorously, and it was adorable.

“Good.” You rested part of your weight on the bed, working as best you could to rid him of his jeans and boxers. Free from their protection, and harder than he could imagine, Eddie groaned as his dick slapped against his stomach. In awe, you reached for him, your fist closing around him. A low grumble rolled from him at your attention, his hips jerking against his will as you kept going.

The pad of your thumb ran over his tip, collecting the bead of pre-cum that leaked from it. You stayed like this for a moment, gauging just how close he really was, and loving him for it. “You’re so beautiful, Eds.”

The rest of your weight came onto the mattress, letting you take what you so deeply wanted. Normally, you were one for teasing, for prolonging the main event, you both were, but this was not the time. Eddie was right there for the taking, and you were in no mood to deny yourself. Gently, you tested the water, taking his tip between your plush lips, and he was right there with you.

Eddie’s fingertips slipped into your hair, not forcing anything, but holding you close. The smooth bob of your head built in intensity with each passing second. The broken sounds of pleasure that poured from him kept you going. You could tell he wanted more, that he was holding back for your benefit, not wanting to overstep a boundary.

A lewd pop echoed as you pulled off of his, turning your head to look him in the eyes. You watched Eddie sit up on his elbows, a worried look washing over him, but you didn’t give it time to take hold.

“You wanna fuck my mouth, Eds?” You asked low, your hand resting high on his inner thigh as you spoke.

“Yes.” He’d gotten to the point where words were failing him. His eyes were blown, no amount of brown remained to be seen in this lighting.

“Then do it.” You dropped back off the bed and onto your knees, your palms resting on your thighs.

“Holy shit.” Eddie moved on instinct, his desire for you guiding his actions. Standing up, he looked down at you, his hand lovingly holding the side of your head. You turned, placing a kiss on his palm before turning back to look up at him.

“Open your mouth.” There was a sharp edge to his words, a side of him you so rarely got to see now with your busy schedules and time apart.

Eddie’s grip adjusted so that he held your hair in a makeshift ponytail. Your jaw dropped open, ready and waiting for him. His free hand wrapped around his dick, stroking it a few times before he let the tip rest on your tongue. Amused at the fucked-out look in your eyes, he wasted no time. Eddie pushed forward, and you went with him. Your lips closed around his cock, wrapping him in your warmth. His hips snapped slowly and at first, growing with confidence as he listened to the muffled moans that ripped from you.

Roughly, he hit the back of your throat, causing you to gag. Pulling away for just a moment, he gave you a fraction of a second to catch your breath. Lips parted for him, you breathed through the discomfort, lust having blown apart your senses. This time Eddie pushed further than he had before, the tip of your nose brushing against his groin, and it was glorious. Like this, he stilled, his free hand coming to rest on your throat, stunned at the feeling of himself beneath your skin.

“You’re doin’ so good, baby.” Eddie praised, sending shockwaves down your spine. Heat pooled between your legs, and you chased after your own release. Your hand dipped between your thighs, finding your clit with ease. A heady moan reverberated through him, and instantly, he knew what you were up to.

“Hands off, sweetheart.” You gave in immediately to his request, whimpering around him at the loss. “That’s it, good girl.”

Eddie picked up his pace, hips moving with precision and desire. You could feel him getting closer to the edge as his rhythm began to falter, and you were ready. Looking up at him with hooded eyes, you let your hands wander. One gripped the back of his thigh, making sure he wouldn’t pull away before you both got what you wanted, while the other explored. It started fairly innocently, if anything, the pair of you were doing could be described as that, but it didn’t stay that way for long.

Fingertips bit into his bare ass, leaving red marks in their wake before sliding around between his legs. Gingerly, knowing he was overly sensitive, you cupped his balls, adding just the right amount of pressure. That was all it took. Above you, Eddie gasped, his hips thrusting hard into your mouth, where he let his release wash over him. Thick ropes of cum painted your tongue, but you didn’t swallow, not yet.

Before he was fully recovered, Eddie released your hair and spoke once more on a shaky breath, “Show me.”

He slid from you and watched with total reverence as your mouth opened wide, giving him the view he wanted. His come sat beautifully between your lips, earning you a deep hum of praise.

“Stunning,” He tucked an errant strand behind your ear, the gesture soft and loving, and in direct opposition to his next demand, “Swallow it.”

And you did without question. Satisfied, he hauled you to your feet, supporting your wobbly legs. Without a care in the world, he pulled you in for a kiss, his tongue deep as he tasted himself. The pair of you swallowed each other’s moans, letting the embrace linger as he dragged you back onto the bed. Your legs tangled, Eddie cupped your pussy, noting the way you jumped under his touch.

“There something you want, honey?” He teased, smiling from ear to ear at your neediness, having just absolutely wasted each other.

“I want- I said I wanted to feel you.” Your hand snaked between your body, finding him semi-hard and throbbing.

“That’s right, ya did.” Eddie rolled you onto your back, stealing your hand from him his cock as he pinned your wrists above your head with your own. With his free hand, he stroked himself, letting his shaky breaths invade your senses. There was nothing but the two of you, your body melding together in an embrace you’d flocked to time and again.

It didn't take long for him to be ready again. Blood rushed through Eddie’s body, flooding to the place he needed it the most.

“You ready?” He asked so sincerely that it nearly broke your heart because no matter how rough the pair of you got, it was always from a place of total love and devotion. He let go of your hands, freeing you to touch him as you pleased.

“Yes.” You wrapped an arm around his neck, burying your hand in his hair as you brought him down for a kiss. Eddie followed, pressing into you with tender care.

“Fuck, baby, you feel so good.” Eddie shuddered at the sting of your nails down his back, but he didn’t mind. Lust radiated over his body, numbing the pain and leaving only pleasure. He took his time, letting you dictate the pace. Before long, the only thing he could feel was the velvet wrap of your body around him. There was you and only you. Not a single other thing mattered in the world apart from this, and for that, he was forever grateful.

Flush with your body, he waited, watching the furrow of your brow loosen as you adjusted to his size. When you were ready, Eddie held for just a second longer, meeting your eyes.

“I love you.” His confession was sincere, and while it wasn’t the first time those precious words had been spoken, they sent butterflies storming all the same.

“I love you, too, Eddie.” You leaned up just enough to capture his lips, sealing the moment for what it was, the truest expression of love.

He fell quiet, focusing on the way you fluttered around him, and trying not to fall over the edge to quickly. You were surrounded by Eddie, his body, his scent, the slick of his skin against yours, and it was heaven. You both knew this wasn’t going to last long; the previous adventures had seen to that.

Steady and sure, Eddie rolled his hips into yours. Each thrust rocked your bodies, overstimulated and sensitive. Sweet nothings tumbled from your lips, encouraging him to keep going. He could feel how close you were, the twitch in your hips growing stronger the longer he kept at it.

“Let go, baby, I got you.” That was all it took. Your body tensed, gasping sharply at the electricity that rattled your bones. Eddie gripped your hip firm enough to leave marks that were sure to bruise later, but you didn’t care. The arch of your back softened as the peak of your release waned, leaving you breathless and weak beneath him.

Eddie had yet to join you, but you knew he was close, and you wanted to feel him come apart. Soft hands held onto his body, finding the spots that drove him wild along his neck and chest. You laid a line of fire along his collarbone, biting hard and causing him to groan.

“Shit, I’m close…where do ya- where-” He fumbled his words, his concentration lacking for good reason.

“Inside.” This caused him to falter in earnest. His eyes locked on yours, shocked and excited in equal measure.

“You sure?” Eddie paused for a second, giving you time to answer.

“More than I’ve ever been.” You smiled a broad and all-encompassing grin.

There were no words to suffice at that moment, so Eddie let his body talk for him. His curls bounced around his face, shielding the pair of you in a protective bubble, and it was like this that he fell apart. You could feel him jerk, his hips flush with yours as he kept himself buried deep. The warmth of his spend was delicious.

Not ready to let you go, he turned on his back, taking you with him. Lying on top of his body, you peppered his chest with kisses. Eddie soothed your aching muscles, working in gentle circles across your lower back. The two of you relaxed into one another, breathing in time, slow and shallow.

You could feel him sink into the broken-down mattress beneath you, his shoulders falling slack as exhaustion tugged at his eyelids. Chin propped on his pec, you glanced up at him, his lashes hiding the depth of emotion in his eyes. A joy unlike any other warmed him from the depths of his soul, joining the smile that lifted his features.

“What’s got you smiling?” You half-joked, really wanting the answer, but knowing it might be elusive in a moment like this one.

“You… It’s always you.” Sitting up, Eddie brushed his lips against yours, rolling onto his side. In this new position, the two of you were finally parted. The loss of fullness had you whimpering, tender, and yet not wanting to let go.

“Sorry, sweets.” Careful to jostle you as little as possible, Eddie rolled out of bed. You could hear him rummaging around in the kitchen, the sound coming closer as he stopped by the bathroom. The door hinges creaked as he kicked it back open.

Eddie’s hair was thrown into a messy knot at the top of his head. Trapped in the crook of his arm were two cloudy plastic cups filled with water. The liquid sloshed dangerously close to the edge as he leaned down to set them on a semi-stable cardboard box next to the bed. With his hands free, he sat next to you on the bed, a damp rag ready to go.

“Come here.” You rolled on your back. A sudden tug at your knee brought you the rest of the way to his side. The movement was sudden, but not harsh, and entirely Eddie. You couldn't help the giggle that erupted at the thought.

“What?” He’d already brought the cloth to your skin, starting a your knee to let you adjust to the temperature.

“Nothin’ ” The warm water had cooled to an almost chilly state in the time it’d taken him to get back to you. The tiny flinch had him scrunching his nose, “Sorry ‘bout that.”

“It’s okay.” You let him work, his capable hands making quick work of the mess you’d made together. Done with the task, he tossed the rag away.

“Eddie!” You admonished, scoffing at his complete lack of care compared to the wild amount of cleaning he’d done in the living room and kitchen

“What?!” He laughed, already standing up to go and get it, “I got it, I got it.”

Rag in hand, he dropped it into the overflowing hamper in the corner of his room before making his way back to the bed. He took the spot next to you, reaching for the covers to lay them over both of you. You scooted closer, tucking yourself into his chest as he hauled you into his arms.

“How ‘bout that nap? Hmm?” Eddie offered, feeling you nod against him.

“Yeah… but… umm… can I- can I tell you something first?” You hesitated, not fearful of his reaction, but simply for the fact that saying it out loud felt like speaking it into reality, even though it already was.

“Of course.” Eddie felt you move, and he went with you. Sitting up, you tucked the blanket under your arms, your eyes staring daggers across the room. You let your weight fall into him, not wanting to look at him. He let you take your time; the silence that surrounded you was heavy.

“I’m leaving school.” The truth was out, fast and sharp, taking the weight of the world with it.

“What?” Eddie was in disbelief. “Wh-why… what happened?”

“They didn’t renew my scholarship.” An uncertain hand came to hold your cheek, turning your face to meet his. The tears that pooled began to fall, streaking down your face in heavy streams. "My grades were..."

“Hey, it’s okay… I mean it doesn't feel okay, but you’re okay.” Eddie rambled, trying his best to comfort you.

“What am I supposed to do? I- I don’t know- fuck!” You scrambled to find the right words, and none of it was right.

“You don’t have to have the answer to that right now, okay? You’re here, you’re safe… an’ we- we can figure it out together, alright?”

He held the sides of your face, begging you to listen, to breathe. The shallow nod of our head, let go of the vice on his lungs. With a heavy sigh, he pulled you into his chest. Tied together, the pair of you sank back on the bed, a tangle of limbs and tears. Holding you around the waist and by the nape of your neck, Eddie let you ride through the worst of the sobs.

As the shaking of your shoulders lessened, you felt yourself succumb to exhaustion. Sleep dragged you under, releasing you from the present for just a moment. Eddie fought against the call to slumber, staving it off until he was sure you were asleep. The steady rise and fall of your chest, and the warmth of your breath on his chest gave him permssion. Later, the pair of you would have time. Time to mourn what had become of your bright and beautiful plans. Time to make new ones, ones that led you forward together. And most of all, time to enjoy one another. The only thing whose certainty was never questioned, and that was certain to bring a smile, even during the most challenging of times.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson #stranger things fic

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hellsquills · 9 months ago

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Disclaimer: I know about the duffle bag Filbrick threw at him, but you can ignore that if you want

My thoughts below the cut! (this turned into a whole ass fic lmao)

Edit: timeline here!!

My personal headcanon is that Filbrick is as much of a coward as he is of an asshole. Therefore, he wouldn't have kicked Stan when he did in canon. Probably not for a while after that.

However, he does try to send him to military school. He keeps talking about how this kid needs to learn discipline and respect, and if he's not gonna bring money to the house, then he should at least bring some honor to his family.

Stan obviously does NOT want to go. Not only because it's a pointless war ("what've the vietnamese done to us anyways?") but because he remembers his mother's face when Shermie got drafted and he will NOT make her go through that hell again. Also, he doesn't wanna die!!!! Hello?????

He talks it out over the phone with Ford, who's obviously just as against it as he is. He tells Stan that, if he gets into a PhD program, he could skip military. Stan laughs in his face. It'd be easier to jump off the plane without a parachute.

And so, he comes up with a plan. When he goes to take his physical, he tries his best to botch it. If he is bad enough, if it looks like he can't do it, maybe he won't have to. Unfortunately, the recruiters are far too used to this by now, and they don't buy it. Stan goes home with a recruitment letter hidden in his jacket.

Everything goes downhill after that. He runs away from home, changes his name several times, does some crime here and there... The military is after him, and it doesn't take rejection kindly.

Stan stays out of contact with his family for a few years. He can't risk getting them involved in this mess. They don't deserve it. So he just leaves, without saying a word, in the middle of the night. No phone calls, no notes, nothing. Not even he knows where he's going. But if it just looks like he abandoned them, maybe they'll hate him. That will make them sound more believable with the police. They aren't covering for him, because they genuinely have no idea where he is. It's the best way to keep them safe.

In that time, Ford doesn't stop looking for him. He finds him every once in a while, but only his phone number, and he knows that could give away his brother's location and get the family in trouble. So, against his deepest instincts, he doesn't call.

One, three, five, seven years pass. Stan has been around almost all the country, and is genuinely considering leaving it. Maybe going to Mexico, or Colombia. Those sound nice. Maybe they'll be nicer to him.

He's passing his time and thinking about this in a small town restaurant in wherever he's in (somewhere he's not banned from, yet), when a family enters. He doesn't make eye contact, but he can't help but stare at them: a man and a woman, probably in their 50s, with 7 kids; one must be older than him, the second one around his age, the third one a little younger, the fourth one a teenager, and the last three between 10 and 15, no more. Except for the last three, they're all taller than him, even the mother, and they have various degrees of blond hair. Their clothes (overalls and plastic boots) suggest they must work in one of the farms he's seen around the state. They don't wear any accessories, except for the glasses that the father and four of the kids have. They're talking loudly and laughing. They look exhausted from a morning of hard work. They seem happy. They... look nothing like his family, and yet, he can't help but think about it.

He can't help the sob that comes to his throat. It's loud and messy from trying to suppress it, which obviously makes it worse. He covers his mouth immediately, and at that point he notices the tears that have run down his cheeks. "Great", he thinks, "that will make it easier to hide, for sure".

He doesn't move. He wants to escape, but that will draw even more attention to him, and he hasn't even paid for the food yet (normally he'd leave without paying, but the old waitress was kind enough to give him some extra food when she saw how little he ordered). He settles for not moving, lowering his head and covering his face, hoping that no one heard (unlikely) or cared (very likely).

"Ya'lright, son?"

The voice startles him. I wasn't very deep, but it was close enough to send his body into immediate danger mode. He looks up at the man towering over him, who's standing in front of him at a prudential distance.

"Y-Yeah, yeah, no worries."

He hates how broken his voice sounds. He's spent more than enough time sweet-talking his way out of trouble, he should be better at this by now. The man looks about as convinced by it as he is himself.

" 'lright then. Can I help ya?"

Damn villagers and their welcoming demeanor. If he wasn't a wanted man, he would appreciate it. But right now, it couldn't be worse timing.

"Come get ya food, kids!" The waitress' yell yanks him out of his thoughts.

"No", he blurts out, and he turns to the man. Least he can do is show him some respect and look him in the eyes. "I'm fine, thank you."

The man smiles lightly and nods. "Okay. Welcome to the town."

Stan watches as the man goes back to his table. He wishes he had been more polite, the guy was just worrying about him, but he can't afford it. They already know his face, he can't risk anyone else recognizing him-

"Sweet Mother of God almighty."

Stan turns to his right. One of the kids, the one about his age, is looking at him like he just grew a second head. He's frozen in place, his eyes wide as plates behind thick glasses. He doesn't say a word, and it's getting increasingly unnerving. Was the bruising on his face still visible? Maybe it's more apparent in broad daylight than in the shitty light that last motel had in the bathroom.

"I'm sorry, I- Can I ask your name?"

The fuck?

"No", answers Stan. Considering how nice his dad was, this guy is pretty rude.

"Son, leave him alone." The mother seems to have manners too, good to know.

The guy does pretty much the opposite. He comes closer to him, until he's right in his path, blocking his exit. That can't be good. Stan feels trapped.

"Are you Stanley Pines?"

Well, that's about it.

Stan tries his best to stay still. This guy doesn't look like a cop, not even an undercover one. But he knows his real name, so maybe someone in his family or friends works in the police; or worse, in the military.

"Listen man, I don't know who you're talking about, but that isn't my name. See?" He reaches for his wallet. He pulls out an ID, with a very clear Jackson Cage on it. He makes a mental note to change it soon, just in case his hunch is right and this guy has connections. "Now, if you excuse me, I'd like to pay for my food and leave. Move."

Stan is already on his feet, but the guy hasn't moved. Stan looks him up and down, trying to appear threatening despite his face probably still being a little red from before. He also gauges how feasible it'd be to escape if things turned bad; the dude is taller than him, sure, but he's also as thin as a toothpick, and by the anxious look on his face, he doesn't seem eager for a fight. The real problem would be evading the restaurant's staff and the other costumers, which include eight carbon copies of the guy in front of him. Probably better to try to de-escalate the situation.

"I- I can't let you leave. Please. I know who you are."

This man is making it really difficult to believe he's not a cop.

"No, you don't. I'm new in town. Move."

"Listen, I-"

"Move out of my way."

"I know your brother."

The words are like a bullet between his eyebrows.

"You look just like him-"

Against his better judgement, he quickly grabs he guy and pins him to the wood in between the booth benches, arm to his throat. If he knows Ford, he knows too much. God he just wanted to have lunch.

The commotion is immediate. He doesn't break eye contact with the guy who's grabbing his arm, whose strength is frankly surprising. He can hear, however, the screams from the dad and the siblings, as well as a couple of gasps from the other costumers. This is not going to go well, but fuck that. He's escaped worse.

"Stop!", the guy shouts as he keeps Stan's forearm from blocking his airway. "Don't hurt him! Don't get closer!"

It takes Stan a second to process what he said. The first part, sure, who wouldn't shout 'stop' when you're being attacked? But the second half doesn't make sense. Is he protecting him? The attacker?

Whatever it is, it works. The family stops in their tracks, still very ready to attack if needed. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see the three younger kids moving closer to their mother. For a split second, he feels a pang of remorse for the scene he just caused.

"Hang up the phone, Clarisse, it's okay. Please."

Stan looks in the direction the guy was talking to. Right behind him, the waitress reluctantly puts the phone down.

He looks back at the guy. He looks a little shaken up, probably from the impact his back (and his head?) made with the wooden plank, but he doesn't look scared. He almost looks... sympathetic? Stan is confused as hell.

"I know who you are", the guy whispers, low enough for Stan to hear alone. "You're Stanley Pines, and you have a brother named Stanford. I know him, okay? He's my friend. I met him a few years ago in a quantum physics congress and we've been talking ever since. He told me about his family in New Jersey, and about you. About how he hasn't seen you in years, and how he was trying to find you, to no avail."

Stan is gradually loosening his grip on the guy's neck, who takes a deep breath. He should know better, but- shit, hearing that Ford was looking for him was not what he expected. Even if he doesn't know yet if this guy is lying out of his ass, it's enough to make him doubt.

"I know you were called to Vietnam. He told me. I spent a week with him in his place when he found out, he was unconsollable. When you ran away, he called me. He knew what it meant for you and he thought he'd never see you again, whether you got caught or not. All because of that stupid war." Stan is now trembling a little, he knows it. This guy must know it too, with how close they are. If he stays here any longer he'll break down, but he can't move. Anything to hear his brother's name a little longer. "I know what it's like. Three of my cousins were drafted last year, and I know at least one of them won't be coming back home. Please... let me help you."

Stan meets his eyes. They're green and brown-ish, not unlike the immense fields he's seen in his last journey, the one that led him to this town. With the years, he's learned not to trust beautiful eyes, because they are better at hiding. These ones, however, seem serene and honest, just like his words, and he can't help but believing them. This guy, whoever the fuck he is, knows just about enough.

Stan lowers his right arm. The guy still has his hand on it, but this time is much less defensive and much more comforting. He doesn't complain.

"My name's Fiddleford McGucket, and I'm gonna help you find your brother."

______________________________

Essentially, after this Fidds calls Ford as if nothing happened (per Stan's request, since he's still paranoid about the police tracking his calls) and asks him to come to Tennessee. Ford argues that he's very busy and all, but Fidds convinces him in the end.

Obviously the twins have a dual breakdown and cry their heart out. In this AU they're much less emotionally constipated lol

Ford tells Stan that he's gonna build a house in a small town in Oregon as a part of his research, and asks him to move in with him once it's finished. Stan, of course, accepts.

In the meantime, Stan stays in the McGucket farm and helps them out as a way of laying low. He has a great relationship with his family, and they're very proud of him for what he did (i believe that the McGuckets are hippies at heart, and they're VERY anti-war, especially when it already took three of them)

I don't know how much of the canon storyline would this AU follow, but it's pretty much your average Mystery Trio AU with some different backstory

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paucubarsisimp · 1 month ago

Note

HI I LOVE UR CUBARSI FICS I HAVE THIS REQUEST SO BASICALLY CUDDLES WITH CLINGY CUBARSI???🫣

clingy mornings

pairing: pau cubarsi x reader

summary: in which pau is a clingy boyfriend... especially in the morning

warnings: none!

a/n: i swear i thought i posted this and then i was working on another draft and i saw this js sitting there 😭😭 also this might be one of my favorites ever 🥹

the sun hadn’t even fully risen yet, but you were already warm.

not from the weather, or the thick duvet cocooning your body, but from the boy tangled around you like you were his whole world.

“don’t go,” he whispered, voice low and scratchy with sleep. his face was pressed into the side of your neck, his arms wrapped tight around your waist. “just five more minutes.”

you laughed quietly, reaching down to stroke his hair, fingers curling through the soft waves. “you said that ten minutes ago.”

“yeah, and i meant it then, too,” he said, pulling you even closer until there wasn’t an inch of space left between your bodies. “you’re warm. and soft. and mine.”

“clingy much?”

“very.”

he nudged your chin with his nose and tilted your face up, then pressed a kiss right between your brows. and then one on your nose. and then both cheeks. and your jaw. and finally, the softest one on your lips.

“there,” he said, pulling back with a sleepy grin. “medicine.”

“medicine?”

“for missing you in my sleep. i had a dream you turned into a cloud and floated away.”

you burst into laughter and buried your face in his chest. “you’re ridiculous.”

“i’m in love,” he said simply, as if that explained everything. and maybe it did.

he kept kissing you like it was the only thing keeping him breathing — little, lazy pecks all over your face, murmuring between each one, “pretty,” kiss. “mine,” kiss. “can’t believe i get to wake up next to you.”

you tried to playfully shove him off, but he just laughed and tightened his hold on you like a human blanket.

“pau,” you warned gently, “you have to leave for training soon.”

“do i?”

“yes.”

“hm,” he hummed, nuzzling your neck, “but if i stay here long enough, maybe time will stop.”

you sighed, amused but hopeless against him. “you’re such a baby.”

“your baby.”

you didn’t say anything to that — just hugged him tighter.

he eventually got out of bed (after at least thirty more kisses, two dramatic groans, and one promise that he’d come home straight after training). but before he left, he cupped your face gently, gazed at you like you were the only thing that existed in his universe, and whispered, “wait for me, okay? i’m gonna miss you so much.”

“it’s only a few hours.”

“yeah,” he said, brushing his lips against yours. “but it’s a few hours too many.”

he came back that evening a mess of curls and sweat and bright eyes — and the moment he stepped through the door, he dropped his bag, kicked off his shoes, and wrapped his arms around you like he hadn’t seen you in years.

“missed you,” he mumbled into your hair.

you laughed softly. “you just saw me this morning.”

“too long ago,” he said, peppering your temple with kisses. “my body ached for your hugs.”

“dramatic.”

“in love.”

he pulled you onto the couch, tugging you into his lap and wrapping a blanket around both of you. he held you close, rubbing small circles on your back, his lips brushing your forehead every now and then.

you watched tv, not really watching anything. you were more focused on the way pau looked at you — like he still couldn’t believe he got to have you in his arms.

eventually, his fingers laced with yours, and he murmured, “i don’t need trophies. or fame. i just want this. you. always.”

and when he fell asleep against your shoulder, arms still around you, breath even and soft, you smiled to yourself.

because in a world full of chaos, of pressure and noise and expectations, he chose softness. he chose love. he chose you.

and he always would.

taglist: @barcapix, @universefcb, @nngkay, @joaosnovia, @ilovebarcaaaa, @levidazai, @hollyf1,@mxryxmfooty, @halfwayhearted lmk if you want to be added!

#fc barcelona #football #footballer x reader #football imagine #pau cubarsi #pau cubarsí #pau cubarsi x reader #pau cubarsi imagine #pau cubarsí x reader #pau cubarsí imagine #pau cubarsí x you #pau cubarsí x y/n #pau cubarsi fic #pau cubarsi fluff #pau cubarsi x you

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yamysunmoon · 3 months ago

Text

That fucking suit

Pairing: Jenna Ortega x fem!reader

Summary: Your roles are pretty clear in your relationship. If someone is gonna wear the strap, it's gotta be you. But today Jenna is clad in a beautiful suit that is making you feel funny. You want her in a different way tonight. The tables might turn for once.

Words count: circa 2970

Warnings: sub!Jenna, dom!reader, stone top!reader, choke play, Jenna using the strap-on for the first time and being a shy little mess about it.

a/n: idk if yall will like this but i had a vision and i know what i saw (*wednesday's voice*)

a/n²: i'm already working on requests but firstly i'll publish works i've had on drafts from before. Yall can keep asking tho and i shall deliver given the time <3

MASTERLIST

Your thumb swipes up the screen as you watch each video and photo of Jenna at that Death of a Unicorn Premiere. Your eyes dart across the screen, leening at her with growing desire.

The way she stuffs her hands into the pockets of that oversized pants; how she smirks sheepishly at the interviewer's complements; how she fixes her hair— every little detail is driving you insane.

That fitted crimson shirt combined with the also crimson tie and the oversized blazer brings out her slender figure, and the rings on her fingers don't help either.

You squeeze your thighs together as you ogle her through the screen, mind racing with thoughts of what you wanna do to her the moment she gets home.

Well, not really home, but this expensive hotel room you're both staying for the night. You lie down on the kingsized bed, eyelids fluttering as you picture her walking through that door.

The evening goes by and you let the thoughts of her consume you. You sink in a drowsy state, eyes closed as you feel yourself drowning in desire. You had been thinking about using this new toy with her for a while now, and you were waiting for a special occasion...

Hours later, the click of the door opening and her heels clicking on the floor makes you sit up. Your face lights up the moment she steps in.

She looks at you smiling adorably. "Hey, I'm back" she says, and you smirk because she always says the obvious when she gets nervous under your stare.

"Missed me?" she asks playfully, approaching you. She stands in front of you, and eventhough you're sat on the edge of the bed, she still isn't that tall. You reach for her tie and tug at it making her bend slightly. You plant a schorching kiss on her crimson lips that leave her speechless.

You break it tenderly, a sharp contrast to the dominance and ferocity of the kiss. "Wow" she breathes out, her tone no longer that playful, "I guess that's a yes".

You grab her sides, feeling the thick fabric of her jacket against your fingers. You stifle a whimper as you kiss her again, and you make her sit by your side.

"Okay, someone is eager tonight" she teases giggling, but you can tell she's nervous, trying to guess what you've planned for tonight.

You settle between her legs, kneeling; you walk your hands by her thighs, down to her knees, making her spread her legs.

"I've been thinking about you all day," you murmur in a low, sultry voice; peppering soft kisses on the side of her neck, "and I was thinking we could try something different tonight."

You admire smugly how she blushes, the reddish tone tinging even her neck. "Oh? And what were you thinking about...?" she asks feidging a casual tone, but her voice comes out thick and more breathy than intended.

You lean back, staring at her with a mysterious smile and your eyes glimmering with censored promises. "Well..." you leer at her shamelessly, eyes darting down her body, blazing with desire.

"I was thinking maybe you could wear the strap tonight." Your gaze trails up to her eyes again, "Wearing this gorgeous suit too" you add in a whisper.

Now that you have her before you, the vision is clear and incredibly tantalizing.

She swallows hard, and her blush turns crimson, matching the colour of her fit. "Oh- I... Wow, uh..." she stammers, eyes flickering anywhere but your face. Her hands are grasping onto the sheets of the bed now.

You keep roaming her thighs, up and down, slowly; fingers splayed out exploring each inch teasingly. "What do you think?" Your voice is playful, soft and high-pitched; suggestive. "Use your words, gorgeous."

She shudders visibly at your words, inhaling sharply. "Ugh, fuck you" she mutters to herself, fixing her hair in a way to avoid eye contact.

The power you have over her is painfuly evident; you love it and she kinda hates it... Not really, though.

You stand up, pausing there for a second so that she can take a moment to stare at you. You smile smugly and reach the nighstand, opening the drawer, fumbling for the toy and some lube.

She follows your every move, her silence giving away her smoldering desire.

You settle again between her legs. You notice her nervous demaenor and your heart melts.

She looks so cute and carelessly sexy, staring at you so innocently, even oblivious to what's about to happen. As if she hadn't seen a toy like this before, swinging between your legs.

You lean in and peck kiss her. "You're being too cute for such a naughty thing" you murmur huskily on her lips.

She chuckles, her shoulders falling in relaxation. "I just..." she lifts her hips as you slide off her pants down to her knees and start adjusting the harness. "I'm a little nervous about it" she continues, looking down at your expert hands.

You tie the strands up confidently, your gaze darting between her beautiful face and the work at hand. "Just relax and enjoy, babe" you murmur soothingly. "But if it feels odd, you know we can always stop."

Her lips curl up into a warm smile. "I don't think I'll want to stop" she mutters more to herself.

You finish adjusting the harness and trail off admiring your handiwork. You slide up her pants, and now the strap is a bulge under the loose fabric.

She pulls down her hips, sitting comfortably on the edge of the bed. You both stare at it, swallowing hard.

You look at her, your gaze darkening as you scane her as if she was your pray. She visibly shivers, but tries to hide it by scooting back.

You lean in, dragging your lips along the side of her neck. She gasps and tilts her head giving you better access.

"Someone seems happy to see me..." you murmur in a low, teasing tone as you reach down to the bulge. You squeeze the shaft playfully, making sure its base presses against Jenna's core through the fabric of her panties.

She inhales sharply, aroused by the game your implanting. "I am, in fact..." she mutters, turning her head slightly to whisper in your ear. "You make me so hard..."

Her voice is breathy, thick with anticipation. She hisses when she feels your squeeze.

You meet her lips, first a soft brush, that soon turns into a sloppy, slow kiss. You play with the bulge a little more, handling it in a way that makes it rub against her, earning some soft whimperings from her.

After some teasing minutes, you slide your hand under the pants and wrap your fingers around the toy. She reaches down and slides off the pants slightly, down to her upper thighs.

Still making out, you reach for the lube. You break the kiss tenderly to flicker down and rub some of it onto the tip.

She stares at it breathless, blown away by the sensual ritual you're setting up.

You spread the thick liquid all along the shaft. Wrapping your fingers around it firmly, you start to stroke it.

You look up at her, lips parted panting quietly as you watch her reaction. You're stroking it making sure it rubs against her.

She makes it clear that you're doing a great job. She throws her head back and stares at you with hooded eyes, propping herself on her splayed out hands that grasp onto the sheets as she wheezes.

The silicone feels smooth and slippery in your hand, and it gets warmer by the second due to the friction. This only helps to get into the fantasy.

She brings up her hands and cups your face eagerly, kissing you hard as she grinds. You stroke faster in response; she whimpers in your mouth.

The way she's reacting to your touches only stir you up and boost your confidence. You break the kiss panting quietly. "Jenna," you breath out brushing your nose with hers "can I give you head?"

The look she gives you is like nothing you've seen before in her gaze. There's a certain hunger, a flame blazing in them.

She nods fervently, her shyness perfectly mixed with her burning desire.

You grin, lustful eyes spakling as you kneel between her legs again. She spreads her legs, propping herself on one hand while the other runs through your hair.

You look down, the stiff toy pointing at you. She leands forward slightly and grabs the base of the toy, wiggling it experimentally. You lean in closer. Her breath becomes ragged as she drags the tip along your right cheek.

You didn't expect her move, let alone being so enciting. You gasp, turning your head slowly, so that the toy drags across your lips and left cheek. You peek up at her, gaze lifting slowly, you bat your eyelashes playfully.

She pulls your hair gently. Her gaze is intense and expectant; she's even holding her breath.

Her crimson lipstick is slightly smudged, and her cherry red hair is a little disheveled. She's looking at your with those hooded eyes and plump parted lips, swollen from the intense kissing.

It's the first time your gonna do this to her, she can't hide her excitment.

You finally tilt down your head and swirl your tongue around the tip reflexively. She squirms in response, still grasping the base of the toy, her fingers tighten around it. Your eyes flicker briefly at her before you look down again, wrapping your lips around the tip and sucking it gently.

One of your hands strokes the shaft while the other reaches to her tie, pulling it and swirling it around your fingers, making it tighten around her neck in a way that makes her whimper.

"Oh my— fuck" she gasps, leaning forward to your pull. But then, she leans back, so that the tension of the tie around her neck turns more prominent.

You peek up and freeze momentarily as you realize what she's doing.

"Such a freak" you mutter pulling back, only to slide down more confidently.

You wrap your lips around the shaft and start bobbing your head, taking several inches with each thrust. She thrusts back, following your rhythm and depth, rolling her hips steadily.

She can't take her eyes off you, one hand in your hair, tugging at it gently and stroking lovingly, while the other caresses the side of your neck and your shoulder.

Her legs spread further, offering herself to you. You moan around the toy, sending vibrations all over it that reach her core through her panties, making her shiver. She squeezes her eyes shut and bites her lip, throwing her head back.

She fucks your mouth deliciously and slowly, moaning and whimpering in her sultry, feminine voice. Drives you insane how ethereal she sounds while wearing this suit and this harness.

Your cheeks hallow as you suck, your hand is pumping half of the shaft while you suck the other half, making slurping sounds that make her look down at you again.

"Love... You look so pretty with your mouth on me" she says in a hoarse, thick voice.

You look up at her, your eyes sparkling with unshed tears. You pull back releasing the silicone cock with an exaggerated pop.

Then you stick out your tongue, wagging it teasingly against the tip; your eyes locked on hers. You blink twice and a furtive tear falls down your cheek.

She shifts restless at your teasing banter. "Hmm..." She whines, clearly wanting more.

You push down again, the silicone cock creating a bulge on your left cheek as you shove it against the inner part of it.

Each time you plunge it into your mouth, each time you stroke it with your hand, the toy twitches against her.

Her hips are bucking under your touch, grinding against the toy. She arches her back, one of her hands flies to yours gripping the tie. You get the hint and tug at it, a choked moan escaping her lips.

"Hmmph baby I think I..." She whines with a hint of surprise.

You know she's about to move more frantically, so you release the toy with a loud pop and crash your lips onto hers, letting her taste the lube in your mouth.

She whines misserably, a sound between a complain and pure contentment. She's getting overwhelmed with sensations- your hand firmly stroking the toy, fingers sliding up and down making sure it rubs against her; your swollen lips devouring hers— the psychological stimulation of it all.

She can feel herself getting warmer and warmer, her pussy throbbing and aching for attention.

She breaks the kiss abruptly. "Baby, please..." She begs in a thin, pathetic voice.

You look at her with darkened eyes. The control freak part of you makes its appearence.

"Please what, love?" You ask tenderly, as in teaching her. She whimpers, getting your mock.

"B-baby, p-please" she moans, gazing at you with the deepest pleading eyes ever.

"Hmm, seems like you're out of words, love..." You keep teasing. The sloppy sounds your hand makes rubbing with the toy fill the room, and she flutters her eyes shut and pants heavily, focused on that sound and the sound of your voice.

"You're acting as if this was the first time someone ever touched you..." You purr, brushing your wet lips against the right corner of her lips.

She shudders visibly. "It is..." she stammers. You stroke harder, earning a moany yelp. "No one's... Ever..."

She grasps onto your sides for dear life, grinding frantically. Her cheeks flush red and a thin drool is escaping from her parted lips. She looks gorgeous.

"Hmm? You've never been jerked off, have you?" You whir with a wry smile.

She turns her head weakily, staring at you with hazy eyes. "You're just being— Mean, at this point" she mutters, struggling to talk through her breathy voice.

Her breathing is becoming more and more ragged, her thrusts more and more erratic. She's so close but she's also stubborn.

And you love to fuck the stubborness out of her.

You stroke more firmly, hand sliding along the shaft deftly, making her wail. You chuckle darkly.

"I asked you a question" you hiss in a scold tone, mocking tenderness. She shudders once again.

"I fucking know" she hisses back, clearly struggling to hold back.

Her hips buck fiercely against your expert touch. "I haven't, okay? You know I've n-never been t-touched like this before" she breathes out, blushing harder.

You grin. She's right; you obviously know. But you can't help but tease her when she gets like this.

You brush your nose against her temple; the tender touch being a sharp contrast to your confident hand bumping the shaft.

"You're such an adorable girl... My whimpering mess, aren't you? All cute and needy when I put my hand on you..."

"You're not even touching me" she interrupts, her voice thick with grumpiness and need. You huff with a smirk.

"Oh, someone's getting grounchy..." you keep teasing, testing how long she can take it.

She bites her lips, obviously frustrated. But her gaze is locked with yours now, and she knows what you're doing. Her eyes dart between yours, her desperation growing by the second as the silence between you allows her to focus again on the sensations.

The fabric of her panties creating a friction against her pussy combined with the relentless slamming of the toy against her, and how she's grinding back at it, makes her furrow her brows in pleasure and effort.

"Please" she begs once again, her edgy mood melting into pure distress. "Please, touch me. I need your fingers on me, please" she finally gives in, specifying like you wanted her to.

She struggles a lot with that because she gets incredibly shy, which you find adorable but also use it as a form of pleasurable turture.

She earns a proud sly smile from you.

"That's my girl..." you groan.

You let go of her tie and snake down your hand. It slides under her panties and strands of the harness and you finally make contact with her throbbing clit, with your other hand still stroking the toy.

She gasps loudly and her breath hitches as she grinds against you rhythmically, losing her shit by the yearned direct touch and the visual stimulation of you still jerking her off.

"oh my god oh my god oh my god" she chants, bucking frantically, desperately, a primal need crushing through her.

You're looking at her with lustful eyes, your hands working on her relentlessly, relishing how she stiffens, the muscles under her crimson shirt tensing as she finally lets go, crying out your name, her release gushing your fingers.

"Fuck, baby" she says in a trembling whine, quivering as she throws her head against your shoulder, panting heavily.

You can feel her skin burning against your shirt. "I didn't wanna be so fast..." She mutters, ashamed.

You can't help to smirk. And your silence gives you away.

You slow down to a stop, she still whimpers in complain, which makes you giggle softly.

The lack of response to her comment gives you away. "You planned this, didn't you?" She grumbles, face still buried against your shoulder.

You laugh softly, clearly amused. You knew this was gonna happen. You wanted to bring her to her limit, to the point where she couldn't take it anymore the moment you touched her.

"Too cute" you whisper, kissing her forehead.

"Fuck you" she groans, "You had fun torturing me?" She clings to you despite her harsh, no-heated words.

"Yes I did" you chuckle, your hands already working on taking off the harness. "You're exaggerating, though. It wasn't that bad..."

"Oh shut up..."

"...And you're a champ at edging, love" you add in a soft, teasing voice.

She pauses and squints at you, her eyes gleamming with the aftershocks of her orgasm and a hint of suspicion.

You smirk warmly. "Foreal" you mutter. And the pride in your voice, the praise, makes the blush on her cheeks creep up to her ears.

Her frown softens as well as her gaze.

"You're a jerk" she murmurs, no heat in her words, just weak restraint remaining.

You let out a breathy chuckle, meek. "Quite literally, huh?" you whisper before meeting her lips tenderly.

#jenna ortega #jenna ortega x fem!reader #jenna ortega x you #d/s #d/s dynamic #top!reader #sub!jenna ortega #dom!reader #jenna marie ortega #wlw writing #sapphic

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sunshinescribes · 1 year ago

Text

Greedy

Pairing: Donquixote "Corazón" Rosinante x Fem!Reader

Rating: EXPLICIT (18+), MDNI!

Summary: Rosinante never knew he could be so greedy until he met you.

Warnings: SMUT! Established Relationship, Pining, Fingering, Cunnilingus, Multiple Orgasms, Overstimulation

Rosinante once thought greed was not in his nature.

He had grown up on scraps, shoving half-bitten fruit and moldering meat into his mouth faster than he could draw breath, uncertain of when his next meal would be. He had lived in the dark alleyways and decrepit homes of strangers lost to history, thankful that the day had not been his last. Even as he lay shivering and sick, he found solace in the fact that a bullet had not found him, nor the punishing hands of those who wished to spill his celestial blood.

His desires had always been reasonable. Food to sustain him. A temporary place to lay his head. A way to escape his callous brother. Rosinante only ever wished for what he needed, never what he wanted…until he met you.

It’s strange. If Rosinante tries to think back on it, he can’t quite pinpoint when you become so precious to him.Your paths had crossed serendipitously one day, when he had slipped away from Doflamingo and his insufferable company to draft reports for Sengoku. Rosinante found shelter in your humble tavern, a simple little thing at the edge of town—far enough from the Donquixote family’s current headquarters to allow him a moment of respite.

You had been cautious in the beginning, aware of how dangerous members of the Donquixote family were, especially when provoked, but with each visit, you began to shift before Rosinante’s eyes. Your clipped words had turned into full sentences, soft inquiries. Your quick retreat to the kitchen whenever he appeared had stopped. Gradually, you both began to thaw, finding comfort in the other’s presence and soon Rosinante was escaping to your homely tavern regardless of if he had reports to draft or not.

There was a softness in your gaze that captivated him—a pretty lilt to your laughter that was so different from the cruel humor of his brother’s underlyings.

Maybe that was when his heart first stirred, the moment you laughed while helping put out the flames that slowly spread across his feathered coat. There was no deprecation, none of the censuring he had come to expect. You had been kind, and Rosinante had not realized how long he had been denied such a simple act—how much his heart secretly craved it.

And in turn, he began to crave you.

“Rosi—”

The breathless call of his name rips Rosinante from his recollections.

He blinks, forcing the fog in his mind away until the image of you beneath him becomes clear again, and he wonders how he had allowed himself to get distracted in the first place.

“Hm?” he hums softly, tilting his head to the side as his eyes sweep over your face.

You’re a lovely mess beneath him. Beautiful. The thought finds him every time he sees you, and yet it still feels like a revelation. Your long lashes flutter as you meet his gaze, your bottom lip trembles, looking so inviting. It takes everything in Rosinante not to dip down and kiss you senseless.

He could…but then he wouldn’t be able to see the lovely expressions you make as he continues to work you with his slender fingers. The pinch of your brows, the way your lips part when you let out a sultry sound that strokes the flames of his desire.

Rosinante wants to kiss you, but he thumbs your clit instead, earning another sweet moan that makes his dick strain painfully against his slacks.

“I-I’m gonna come—” you whine as you buck your hips, making his deft fingers plunge deeper into your needy cunt, and oh god he feels it again, the way your walls hug whatever they can get a hold of just before you tip over the edge.

Rosinante has already coaxed one orgasm out of you tonight, but he wants another—wants to watch your pretty eyes roll in the back of your head and that brilliant mind of yours go dumb with pleasure. There isn’t a prettier sight in the world, and it’s enough to get him off, watching you come undone.

“Come baby, please fucking come…” he rasps, his voice almost unrecognizable to himself.

Rosinante quickens his pace, fucking you with his fingers while your walls clench around them, trying to keep his long digits where you need him most. His thumb rubs torturous circles against your swollen clit—faster and faster while sweet supplication spills from his lips.

This is worship after all, isn’t it?

The wrecked whimper you let out is like music to his ears, and Rosinante fucking groans when he feels you coat his fingers with your sweet release. He watches as if caught in a spell at the way you shake through your second orgasm. The sight alone makes Rosinante’s resolve shatter. He leans down, slanting his lips over yours, swallowing those pretty cries as you shake through the pleasure that washes through you.

Rosinante wastes time he doesn’t have kissing you, tasting the inside of your mouth and stealing the air from your lungs. Doflamingo will wonder where his little brother has run off to, but Rosinante can’t will himself to part from you. Not when you’re a lovely, boneless wreck below him.

Not when he still wants more.

Rosinante reluctantly withdraws his fingers from your slippery hole just as he pulls away from your lips with a sigh. He blinks, his heavy gaze finding yours once again. You look a little dazed, like you're still coming down from your high. Rosinante can’t help the way his lips curve into a soft smile, or the way he whispers soft praise against your skin with each tender kiss.

“One more…just one more sweetheart,” he murmurs, slowly trailing his lips down your body. The taste of salt and something sweet linger on his tongue, making him tremble with anticipation as he steadily reaches his destination.

Rosinante makes an appreciative noise at the sight of the mess he’s made of your pretty pussy—the slow drip of your slick like honey, the way it smears your thighs and stains your sheets. He can practically feel his mouth watering, his mind going dizzy with lust.

Rosinante doesn’t realize he’s leaning in until he feels your trembling fingers thread through his hair, gently yanking at his blond curls. He stills, before glancing up at you with an inquisitive look.

“What…about you?” your question is a tired mumble, barely audible.

Oh, you’re so sweet, even when you’re worked to your limit, hardly tethered to the waking world. It makes the warmth in Rosinante’s chest spread like a wildfire.

His eyes never leave yours, not even as he slowly lowers back down to your needy cunt.

“This is for me.”

You let out a broken cry the moment his tongue slips between your folds. Rosinante knows it’s too much, that you’re still reeling from your last release, but he’s too far gone—craves you like a drowning man craves air.

This is the greed you inspire in him—this unshakable desire to take everything he wants. It would terrify him if you weren’t so eager and willing.

Rosinante laps at your sweetness like a man starved. He fucks his tongue into you, licking away the evidence of your last release to prepare for the one you’ll soon give him. He knows it won’t be long now. You’re already a sobbing mess, so needy and sensitive.

“Ohgod—Rosi I can’t—” your words die out, replaced by a pathetic moan.

“You can…” Rosinante gasps, reluctantly pulling away from your pussy to give you a moment of relief. “Sweet girl, I know you can.”

And he knows just how to prove it.

Rosinante leans back down, fixing your sopping pussy with an appraising glance before he wraps his mouth around your sensitive clit. He lets his talented tongue glide over the nub, teasing it until your nails dig painfully into his scalp.

You’re close, so so close. Rosinante knows you’re teetering over the edge, nearly on the brink of ecstasy. The idea alone makes his dick twitch in his trousers, ready to burst along with you.

Rosinante grinds against the bed, chasing a sliver of friction against his throbbing cock. He’s right there with you, hanging on by a thread.

Let go, he hears a voice in his head whisper.

Let go. Let go. Let go.

Rosinante sucks on your clit hard and you’re gone, thrashing and bucking your hips—chasing your release with his mouth as a jumbled mix of his name and a curse spill from your lips.

Rosinante chases his own release, grinding his clothed cock against the mattress until he’s spilling into his slacks with a broken sob. You both gasp and quiver, feeling the delicious traces of your climax as you slowly settle from your high.

Rosinante sighs contentedly, gently nuzzling your thigh. It would be so easy for him to just stay here with you, to make a home in your too-small bed and leave his brother and his mission behind. It would be nice, not having to live in fear of Doffy uncovering the truth behind his sudden return—to think there’s a life left for him at the end of all this, even if Rosinante can’t picture it.

He wants that. God, he wants it so bad it hurts. Rosinante allows himself to dream, lets his mind conjure possibilities and perfect endings…but he still lifts from your mattress, cleans away the evidence of your shared desire, and begrudgingly staggers out of your tavern.

The taste of you lingers on his tongue, and Rosinante finds solace in it as he slowly trudges through town.

Maybe one day this will all be over and he’ll get to stay by your side.

It’s a pretty thought, even if it is only a dream.

divider credit: cafekitsune

#sunny.fic #rosinante x reader #donquixote rosinante x reader #rosinante x you #corazon x reader #corazon x you #x reader

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flor4de4amor · 1 year ago

Note

thinking about how when aviator!abby gets home from base she asks you to unbraid her hair and play with it

Aviator!abby brainrot

so i got a bit ahead of myself writing for this... n changed the prompt a little to washing avi!abby's hair cause i love her + my love language is acts of service.

just a reminder for everyone reading, these aviator!abby writings are the last of the au as i'm clearing out drafts plz enjoy!

click for palestine | boycott tlou | read b4 engaging w me

warnings: casual nudity, abby's an annoying freak - per the usual.

abby’s hair is a tousled mess. she most likely undid her braid in the privacy of your shared garage, once parked after her long work day. her face is tense and you can see her body is rigid. it’s been a long day for her. she’s pressing your face with wet kisses, slaughtering your face with appreciation in the front doorway. “hi baby,” you mumble into her neck.

“hello,” she whispers back to you. exhaustion is evident in her voice. you know exactly what she needs.

running your fingers through her messy hair she groans, “want me to wash your hair up?” you offer while twirling your fingers around her soft wavy ends, a result of her tight braid.

“mm,” she groans back appreciatively, which you take for a yes.

“you’re lucky i speak your secret little language of grunts,” you tell her softly. she pinches your backside in retaliation. you groan and laugh all at once. “be nice to me or else i’m not gonna run your bath,” you threaten without meaning.

“sorry,” she mutters into your neck. her weight is heavy on top of your body as she clings to your flesh. her hands come underneath your sleep shirt, running up and down your spine. her way of apologizing silently. you separate, and abby sprawls out on the couch while you run the bath for her.

she sneaks up on you silently. while you’re bent over, vunerably, sticking your index finger in the running water, checking how hot it is. she snaps her hips into yours while your knees are dug into the bathroom tile. she pretends to fuck you mercilessly, and soft giggles escape her mouth.

you gasp at her actions, “abigail!” you laugh. “here i am rushing to take care of you, and you molest me.” you tease. your neck craning to look back at her.

her face is red with excitement and a smile prominent on her lips. she shrugs her shoulders, “couldn’t help myself, your ass is so cute,” her hand reaches down to pinch your left cheek, as your underwear peeks out from underneath your sleep shirt. you jump upright, laughing at her actions.

“you’re agitating me,” you sigh though your smile is peering through your lips. you turn around to face her, a playful glare rest on your face. all a facade, it’s near impossible to stay mad with abby.

“sorry,” she mutters again, her hands touching the back of your neck. her thumb rubbing slow circles on the base of your skull with care. you know she’s not really sorry.

“all these sorry, sorry, sorries, full of shit.” you sigh as her warm hands comfort your neck. “just take your clothes off and get in the bath babe,” you command gently.

“kinky,” she mutters with a sly smile.

“abigail,” you roll your eyes at her, taking your time to unbutton her uniform top, as she stalls. her hands reach to undo her khakis, the checkered print of her boy shorts poking through the undone zipper.

“mrs. anderson,” she replies with that stupid voice of hers. she’s down to her sports bra, which she quickly discards, and her boy shorts, which she’s more than happy to rip off. her toned body on display alongside her messy hair, you can’t help but take a minute to admire her and her confidence.

“into the bath please,” you command of her once more. she slides in, with ease.

“you’re so bossy today.” you smile and scoff. her legs soak in the water and her lean back is pressed against the cold ceramic of the tub, facing you. her blonde waves covering her shoulder blades.

“you complain too much, remember who’s gonna take care of you when you get old.” you remark, and grab the shower cup from the edge of the tub.

“can’t help myself babe,” she muses with her eyes closed in relaxation.

you fill the cup up with the running faucet water, “pass me the shampoo abby,” you tell her while sitting the cup next to you. you sit on top of a step stool, matching your squatting heigh to abby’s sitting height, which still carries a few inches over you. she opens her eyes and hands you the mint scented shampoo. you crack open the plastic container, squirt some into your hands, and place the soap unto your wife’s scalp. she sighs at the cooling sensation, but moans in satisfaction once you begin scrubbing her scalp. your nails scratching away any impurities that lay on her pretty little head, suds building on top of her blonde hair. you rinse the soap out with the plastic cup besides you, brushing her long locks when finished. “pass me the conditioner now, yeah?”

she obliges, passing the container. “thank you, love.” she turns head around, kissing you softly.

“well someone’s gotta take care of you yeah?” you smile against her lips.

“and i’m glad it’s you,” she kisses you once more.

you lather the conditioner in her long hair, sloppily braiding it so it gets out of her way. “rise off, yeah?” you urge her, knowing that she likes to shower without help.

you groan getting up from the stool, watching as she lifts the lever, turning the shower on, wincing slightly as the hot water hits her chest. you sit on the lidded toilet, observing while she scrubs herself with pine soap. she always smells like a christmas tree. she nods at you once finished, “come rinse my hair out please?” she practically begs.

“you’re just a spoiled little princess,” you smile at her freckled face and blue eyes. but you oblige, getting up anyway.

“you’ve made me this way,” abby replies and sits back down once more. you scoff and use the cup to wash the conditioner off her hair. brushing out the soft lather with your fingers delicately. once you’ve finished up, your wife steps out the shower, and you wrap a towel around her. water dripping from her hairline to her forehead. “you gonna braid my hair for work tomorrow?” abby asks, throwing in some puppy dog eyes.

you sigh, “i can’t say no when you ask like that.”

abby pumps her fist in victory, “love you so much baby.” she kisses your cheeks relentlessly.

“shut up anderson, you’re getting me all wet,” she almost cuts you off to make a dirty joke before you click your tongue at her, silencing her quickly. “go get dressed so i can pamper you some more.”

“sure thing baby.” she paddles out the bathroom and rushes into your bedroom, eager for more of your caring touch.

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lucvly · 1 year ago

Text

SWAN SONG. ( chris sturniolo. )

warnings › straight up smut SORRY. dry humping !! 😁🌟 horny chris brainrot, i apologize. NOT PROOFREAD.

author’s note › this is absolutely an edited draft LMAO but take this as a peace offering while i work on the next chapter of 7 hours <3. i was actually gonna continue this but i got lazy soz.

chris’s hands traveled to your hips, pulling you on top of his lap, accommodating you in a straddling position on his gaming chair, your immediate reaction being to wrap your hands around his neck, one of your hands softly gripping onto his hair.

a half smirk was plastered on his face, leaning into your neck as his hands went to grip your waist, his mouth almost attacking your neck. after all, you deserved it after having to watch him game almost all afternoon. he was well aware you’d been feeling a little neglected after acknowledging his almost omniscient presence as he played, with soft sighs escaping your lips in an intent to get him to shift his attention to you.

he’s noticed this, of course, he’d be stupid not to. he just decided it’d be a tad bit more fun to play around with you for a little while, letting the tension accumulate in the air as your glance made its way down to his skillful hands, moving around the controller in a way that made your thoughts shift elsewhere.

his brothers weren’t home, which made it more convenient for you to be in his room. for the most part, you kept each other as a secret, that’s just how it was between you. neither of you had brought up the conversation of a label because it wasn’t at all relevant when his hands and mouth were put to good use.

he continued his work on your neck, whispering sweet nothings into you as he marked you up. your head was clouded and hazy, not realizing this would mean a headache in the morning while having to cover his mess with concealer, lazily and drowsily having to graze the makeup brush against your skin. but to be honest, that was the least of your worries when he was sweet talking his way through it, the honey dripping from his words causing an impact straight on your core.

“you’re so gorgeous,” he spoke in a deep slightly raspy voice, causing your core to almost throb, your hips uncontrollably rolling down onto him ever so slightly, his cold hands roaming under your shirt and making their way upward, making it his personal mission to caress every part of your body that his hands managed to roam– from the hem of your shirt, up to your abdomen, and finally residing on your breasts, which made you let out a small whine in response.

“you like that?”

all you could do was nod. he knew your short and breathy response was an indicator he should keep going, and he did, his hands massaging your breasts gently, carefully observing how your mouth slightly opened and your head started to very slowly and slightly move back. however, your response somehow seemed to unsatisfy chris, longing for a more verbal reply from you.

“use your words, angel. wanna hear you say it.” he encouraged, sweetness eradicating from his voice– though his actions had a sense of mischief to them, his palms slowly sliding down to your hips again in a teasing manner, waiting for you to explicitly tell him what you wanted.

“yes. please– chris,” your whines came as such a desperate plead, almost nearing begging in a sense despite only saying two words, your hands made their way around his neck, attempting to get some sort of friction even if it meant through your clothes, a shaky gasp escaping your lips as your core rolled onto the tight tent straining against his pants.

just by looking at your blissed out expression, head slightly thrown back and the small gasps that left your lips he was sure he was about to bust in his grey sweatpants, which already had a small stain of precum on it from you straddling him– the compromising position and the roll of your hips onto his made it even more difficult for him to control himself, allowing his hands to grip onto the sides of your hips a bit more tightly, guiding the movement of your hips down onto his crotch, letting out a low groan that if you paid a bit more attention, would almost be a whimper.

“that’s it, you’re doing so— fuck, good.” he had to interrupt himself unintentionally, your soft sounds going straight down to his dick, wishing you were unclothed so he could get a direct feel of the slick he knew was coating your pretty folds and making a mess in your lace panties.

“please,” a low whimper fell from your lips at the contact of his bulge against the fabric of your panties, creating even more friction between the both of you as your hips rocked back and forth following the pace he was setting as his hips started to meet your movements halfway, rutting upwards ever so slightly to create a more pleasant sensation.

he knew exactly how to make you feel like you had electricity going through your body, your head clouded with so many different thoughts yet nothing at all at the same time, completely lost in the feeling of his restrained bulge sliding against your clothed, yet evidently wet core.

chris’s head started to feel like it was spinning, and you could tell with the way his eyes were rolling almost to the back of his head with every roll of your hips and whisper of his name– he was fucked out. the beads of sweat forming on his forehead and the soft, shaky breaths that came from his lips were an evident indicator of the loss of words he was in, more so lost in the feeling of pleasure, the feeling of you, enjoying and deeply savoring each and every second you allowed his hands to grip your hips and pull you down onto him.

one of his hands roamed further down into your panties, finally desperate enough to feel you to the extent he had to give in and touch you where you most needed it. his hand slid gently moved your panties to the side, and he let out a shaky breath as he felt the lace his fingers were touching.

“so wet for me,” his voice was the slightest bit shaky– being careful with his choice of words because surely enough, at this point, he was on the verge of reaching his orgasm without even being touched. “atta girl.”

despite his hand starting to rub onto your nub ever so gently yet at a speed he could only manage, rubbing the bundle of nerves in a way that made your head spin, you continued the movement of your hips, and so did he, meeting you halfway, his free hand still holding onto your hip, helping your movements increase in speed as both your noises started to echo through the walls; his grunts, your whimpers of his name, his whines, it all sounded so incredibly pornographic.

“shit— baby, fuck, slow down–” he attempted to plead for you to slow down, although he was the one setting the pace by keeping his hand on your hip and his fingers on your clit. his breaths suddenly started to feel heavier than before, gasping softly before you felt a slight sticky sensation below you, alongside feeling his legs tense up before giving out, his fingers stopping their movements for a second as his head leaned back on the headrest of his gaming chair.

you looked down at the mess your fluids had made, especially his, staining his grey sweatpants with spots of cum– you couldn’t believe you’d just made him come undone for you without even touching him in the slightest. it definitely made you proud, knowing the effect you had on him was certainly endearing, and you couldn’t help the smirk that started to creep up onto your face as one of your hands traveled up the nape of his neck to play with small strands of his hair softly, helping him get through his high before letting out a low giggle.

“you think that’s funny?” he asked breathily, his tone obviously playful as a half smile appeared on his face while he leaned up slightly to press a quick but loving kiss onto your lips, leaning back down on the chair, staring up at you with glossy eyes, cheeks tinted a deep shade of pink.

“maybe.” your reply was quick, but he could sense the teasing tone you were implying, accompanying your sentence with a shrug of your shoulders just to add a little attitude.

“alright, my turn then.”

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sweetheartsaku · 8 months ago

Text

(HQ) i'll do the dishes we'll carry the load

𝜗𝜚 HAIKYUU!! VARIOUS: 𝓛ANTANA.

a/n: [fem!reader] i have 3 wips in my drafts but i chose to start a whole new one 😎

— characters : atsumu, iwaizumi, sakusa, osamu

atsumu miya ; dance with you tonight - laufey

ATSUMU MIYA GET BEHIND ME to all the people who say atsumu treats all girls like trash, (LOUD BUZZER NOISE) it is such a common headcannon he's a mommy's boy?? such a common headcannon that the twins grew up with their mother?? hello?? would most definitely treat you beyond well ⁽⁽(੭ꐦ •̀Д•́ )੭*⁾⁾ !!

bites his straw omg. samu HATES it, especially when they’re sharing drinks then he finds his fresh beverages straw on its last thread. does the same with you unintentionally, making it literally impossible to drink from LMAO. its atsumu so i let it pass

has a dimple on his left cheek, matching with his twin brother whose dimple is on the right!!! he loves when you kiss and poke it. whenever he's focused, he bites his cheek, and you can see the little dimple there too.

gets you so many little trinkets and souvenirs from when he goes to away-games, always thinking of you!! sends you pictures of sunsets he sees, gets you seashell necklaces and ones with your initials except you get his and he gets yours ♡ bokuto and hinata also try help him, but the best they could pick up was a pebble the same colour as your eyes.

"you wanna kiss me soooo bad"

hajime iwaizumi ; super rich kids - frank ocean

put his hands on your head or waist when your close or about to hit something.. like you could be getting something from under the table and his hand would protect the spot where you could hit your head on 😖💞 same thing with your waist, always holding it close so you don’t bump into strangers on the road

strong believer of sidewalk rule. will switch your places EVER so gently (IWAIZUMI HAJIME THE MAN YOU ARE). loooooves slithering his hands around your waist and adooooores the pudgy stuff under your shirt. he just finds every inch of you beautiful from the bottom to the top!!! (he js like me frfr u is gorjus bae)

would carry you when your feet/heels hurt. the INSTANT he hears a slight groan of pain he will actually already be down there unbuckling the clip of the heel LMAO. props you up on his back and holds you up with so much pride.. his favourite heels to unbuckle are valentino’s and ysl. got the valentino’s for you on your 3rd year anniversary and the ysl on your 4th. maybe he’s gonna get on one knee while he’s down there too

smells like an insane amount of axe body spray unfortunately.. sorry iwa enthusiasts

kiyoomi sakusa ; coming home - beabadoobee

really loves claw clips. whether it be on you, or on himself and literally just in general. really loves when you wear the pearlier colours, especially teal and lime mixed with yellows etc... he also likes the clips on himself when he's cleaning

haircare routine goes HARD!! always having 2 lathers of shampoo, 1 layer of conditioner then another layer of leave-in conditioner, protection products and after allat he has curl serum (he does it with a scalp massager too btw)

keeping the kita shinsuke + sakusa kiyoomi crocheting agendas up rn. as a kid his family was always prioritised with work at the hospital so he'd always just sit in the corner of the waiting room with his thoughts, till one day this elderly lady who always had weekly checkups would teach him how to crochet. he made things for his family, but they never accepted/used it, so he just stopped after elementary school. but ever since he met you, he suddenly felt his hands tug towards the hooks a little harder

favourite scents are lime and herbs, but not together. likes lemon and lime sprays, window cleaner and wipes. secondly, loves herbs because it reminds him of the grandma that taught him to crochet 🥹(screaming, crying, wailing, throwing up, bashing head on wall.)

would peel your pomegranates (he hates messes)

osamu miya ; a piece of you - nathaniel constantin

found you watching those wax slime/asmr/clay cracking/mini foods/recipes on tiktok/mukbangs ONCE, and ever since then he's been a tad more dedicated to making special sweet treats for you after closing at onigiri miya ♡

this is like on the verge of ick and cute, but he likes to boop your nose with flour or your hand while you're baking. ya'll could be kneading impossibly close, and he'll sprinkle a bit of flour on you or randomly boop your nose 😭

always carries hair ties for you. in the kitchen he can’t have them on, but anywhere else he has one on him. since he basically lives in the kitchen, he’d prefer you to just stay there with him instead LMAO. the “anywhere else” in question is wherever you desire... but adores trying new cuisines with you. the hair tie helps tie your hair back while you eat btw <3

his hands smell like dishwashing liquid, even after the endless lathers of strong candy apple hand-soap, the scent of the liquid still lingers on his hand! you can smell it when you hold it on movie nights, or kiss it goodnight hehe

has a dimple on his right cheek, except his dimple is way deeper than atsumu's. you can see it when he chews

would peel your oranges

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you #haikyuu x y/n #haikyuu x gender neutral reader #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu drabble #atsumu x reader #iwaizumi x reader #sakusa x reader #osamu x reader

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sillygoose067 · 15 days ago

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Hi 👋,it’s me. Can you please do a Bob x reader where Bob,the reader and his daughter go on a family road trip across the 50 states? The reader’s driving and there’s a whole lot of drama involved. Including Bob and the reader arguing and mixtape 💿 🔥 📼 drama 🎭 and etc. By the way,Bob and the reader are married. Thanks.

Hi! Sorry this took a while to reply to, it's exam season. I have a lot of drafts lol, just not enough time in a single sitting to upload them. Maybe today's the day though...

Hopefully this has a little bit of everything you were looking for!

———————————————————————————-

Drive Me Crazy

Bob x Reader

It started with an idea that sounded sweet over pancakes and bad coffee one Saturday morning: let’s take a road trip across all 50 states before she leaves for college.

You’d said it, offhand, watching your daughter scroll on her phone, her earbuds in and her heart maybe halfway out the door already. Bob—ever the golden retriever in a man’s body—lit up like a Christmas tree in July.

“A road trip? Us? All of us? That’s genius! A cross-country bonding quest! A noble pursuit! Like Lord of the Rings, but with more gas stations!”

You’d smiled then, not knowing what you were inviting into your life.

The trip began in your home state, trunk packed with the kind of optimism only people who’ve never road-tripped with a husband like Bob can manage. You’d spent hours making a playlist—90 songs perfectly balanced for mood, genre, and nostalgia. Snacks were organized in Ziploc bags, itinerary printed on color-coded sheets. Bob packed a snorkel and a rubber chicken. When asked why, he just winked. “You never know when life throws you a metaphor.”

By the time you hit the New Jersey border, things were already unraveling.

“Left! Left, babe! You were supposed to go left!” Bob shouted, sloshing his Slurpee as you swerved into a Wendy’s parking lot instead of the supposed shortcut he insisted was ‘scenic and full of rustic character.’

You looked over your sunglasses, voice low. “This is not a shortcut. This is a parking lot where a man is eating chili directly out of his hands.”

“Well,” Bob said, unbothered, “maybe he found peace on the journey.”

From the backseat came the deadpan voice of your daughter, earbuds half in, full teenage eye-roll deployed. “You guys are gonna get a divorce in Kansas.”

You wanted to argue—but she had a point.

In Maryland, Bob replaced your playlist with his own mixtape. You didn’t notice until somewhere outside of Knoxville, when “You Make My Dreams” gave way to a remixed ska version of “My Heart Will Go On” and something labeled “Bob’s Bangers Vol. 4.”

“WHAT is this,” you asked, already bracing for impact.

Bob looked genuinely pleased with himself. “It’s my vibe, honey! Carefully crafted! Little bit of everything—ska, synthwave, weird Albanian disco I found on Reddit. Eclectic taste is the spice of life!”

“You deleted my playlist.”

“Well, not deleted, just… replaced with something better.”

From the backseat: “You’re both psychos. I want a plane ticket home.”

You didn’t speak to Bob until Arkansas. He tried winning you over with questionable roadside souvenirs: a taxidermied squirrel holding a gun, a mug that said “Hot Mess Express,” and a tiny plastic harmonica that played one haunting, warbled note.

It didn’t work.

Somewhere in Oklahoma, a tornado warning forced you to take shelter in a gas station bathroom with flickering lights and graffiti that read “Marry me, Debbie, or I’ll explode.” The storm growled outside. Your daughter clutched Bob’s hand; Bob clutched yours.

When the wind died down, you got back in the car. Everyone was quiet, but Bob reached across the console and took your hand again. He didn’t look at you when he said it.

“I know I mess up,” he said, voice softer than you’d heard it in weeks. “I’m not great at—at planning. Or remembering your systems. Or coming up with good playlists. But I’m great at loving you. And her. And... being a complete idiot about it sometimes.”

You let the silence sit for a moment. Then you reached for your phone and hit play on a secret backup playlist you hadn’t told him about. The first song was “You Make My Dreams.”

He looked at you, a little surprised, like forgiveness was a gift he’d forgotten how to expect.

“Don’t push it,” you warned, but your fingers stayed laced with his.

You made it through Texas without any fights, which felt like a miracle. You lost a tire in Arizona. Accidentally joined a UFO-believers potluck in Nevada. Got matching temporary tattoos in California: a flaming taco on your ankle, a confused-looking penguin on his bicep. (“Symbolic,” Bob had said solemnly. “Of our union. I'm the chaos. You're the mystery. Together: penguin taco.”)

Your daughter started smiling again somewhere around Oregon. Bob let her DJ a few days, and she begrudgingly let him add “just one” of his weird bangers. He picked a remix of Mr. Brightside that sounded like it had been filtered through an ’80s arcade cabinet.

You hit Alaska by ferry. Rented a tiny red car in Hawaii just to say you drove in all 50 states. On that beach, your daughter took a photo of the two of you—sunlight dripping gold through your hair, Bob pressing a kiss to your temple, your eyes closed like you’d finally exhaled after the longest drive of your life.

Later that night, he pulled you aside, away from the waves and sand and your daughter’s laughter.

“Would you do it again?” he asked.

You looked at him: hair salty, skin sun-warmed, socks somehow mismatched in flip-flops.

And you thought about the playlists. The tornado. The way he made you laugh when you wanted to scream. The arguments and harmonicas and every time he’d reached for your hand, even when you didn’t make it easy.

“Yeah,” you whispered. “I’d do it again. But next time?”

He held his breath.

“I control the aux.”

Bob grinned. “Deal.”

Then paused. “But I am bringing the rubber chicken. It was foreshadowing.”

Somehow, you couldn’t even argue with that.

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invoncible · 3 months ago

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𓆩♡𓆪 UPCOMING . . . — this is for housekeeping purposes! my inbox and drafts are messy, so i feel like it might be a good idea to organize all the ideas i'm gonna write, both from myself and requests, in one place! that way we can both keep track :D !! i'll try to keep this regularly updated so you can see what i'm working on when i leave for periods of time :) most of these are long term projects :D

+ padme!reader & anakin!viltrumite mark something something everyone is against your relationship but he'll get married to you in secret if he has to. and when the time comes, he doesn't give a fuck if your conscience is against it—you're going home with him. who cares if you betray your people in the process?

+ variants w/ tva! reader oh no! repeat offender angstrom levy has messed with timelines/dimensions again? looks like you're going to have to track down the rogue variants yourself... but they just wanna have fun with you.

+ failsafe series

+ bluff (alt ver.) where you choose mohawk mark instead

+ conquest fic as a kindergarten teacher, you could see how you'd be alarmed when you see some old man holding your kids by the ankles on a random day at the park...

+ rex sloan hcs

+ more starfire! reader

+ more popstar! reader

+ more stedman! reader

#.upcoming!

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wcbblife · 1 year ago

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could you do paige with either a black gf or a volleyball player gf hcs??

Paige x Volleyball player!gf HCs

a/n: I've had this idea in the drafts for quite a bit of time. So glad you sparked my mind to finally finish it

Bit of background about you two ig:

What first stood out to Paige about you was the ability to absolutely spike the ball with an insane amount of power. The first time she saw you play she was with KK because they were both oh so bored on their free day. Next thing she knew you were elevating off the floor and slamming your palm against the ball with an insane amount of strength. They both let out a synched “DAMN” as the ball quickly made its way down to the floor with a resounding bang. One after the other, she was literally left with her jaw on the floor at how good you were and how you were able to carry the team to a flawless victory.

She definitely went home and searched all of your highlights, slowly being more and more captivated by how high you could jump and how fast you could react to get some saves. After that, she would literally make up the stupidest excuses to just see you absolutely dominate on the court.

Noticing her growing attendance, fans began to joke around on the internet (with pics and vids). You take notice of this. Especially on how she cheered extra hard whenever you helped on scoring a point.

Funny enough I think you two would meet in the library. She would pass you and the look on her face is hilarious (something between a mix of amazement, shock, and something else). She tries to stop the absolute sound of excitement that she wants to let out.

"Dude, you’re an awesome player.” She says, smiling super bright.

"Well if it isn’t my biggest fan” You tease. “But are you serious? You’re the cool one here.”

You both continue to absolutely geek out about one another and compliment the other's play style. It’s then that you find out that she absolutely loves when you spike.

You both get closer after one particular game where your famous strong spikes literally sealed the deal for the team to win. After a particularly impressive spike she literally jumped while screaming as loud as she could and you couldn't even deny that trying to ignore a tall blonde jumping erratically up and down was getting harder after each game. So you just turned towards her and pointed to mess with her. It worked though cuz Paige went absolutely crazy.

After that, you two started talking some more and you even started showing your face to some of her basketball games. And she asked you out after one of her hard games, caught up in the high of the game. You two immediately become the school's hottest topic after it.

Some actually normal HCs:

She absolutely is your biggest fan. No one ever cheers louder for you than Paige Bueckers.

Is eager to learn how to set for you so that she can help you with your spikes. Like seeing it first hand because it makes her feel so starstruck seeing it first hand.

Absolutely loves to play beach volleyball with you. Idk why she just seems like it.

Lovesssss to see you in your uniform. Especially with those shorts. Makes her go crazy.

Goes nuts when you react fast and save the ball. "YEAH BABY! YOU SHOW EM HOW ITS DONE!"

Will 100% challenge you to a 1v1 but immediately regret it as she watches you jump to slam the ball. “Chill! You're gonna kill me if you do that.”

She loves to learn and break down each set with you. Especially if you tell her it helps you better your game. And vise versa. You love to watch her games and hear her break down her own playing.

Outside of sports and school, Paige will literally show you off to everyone (like imagine a family Christmas party and she's literally holding someone hostage while showing them you play. “Isn't she awesome? I mean just look at her!").

Acts like a concerned mother whenever you fall one too many times in a game while diving to save the ball from touching the ground.

Loves it when you wink or smile in her direction while you're playing. It actually drives her a little crazy.

#wcbb #women's basketball #uconn huskies #uconn wbb #paige bueckers #paige bueckers x reader

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vxlenst3in · 4 months ago

Text

Prey to the Hound

You should know that the world is a cruel place. Enough people have told you when you were younger. Getting wasted in a bar somewhere in Penacony, with no one but the bartender around, wasn't exactly called "being careful".

tags/warnings: gallagher x fem!reader, dub-con, taking advantage of someone who is drunk, lowk ooc gallagher? ripping of clothes, mentions of alcohol, creampie, dirty talk, payment for drinks, cervix bruising, he's highkey a perv, lmk if i forgot smth

wordcount: 1.3k-ish

authors note: hiyaa! this work is a draft from kinktober last year, with the non-con/dub-con and heartbeat prompt. i let it marinate for quite a while...but i guess i finally finished it and it's ready to see the light of the world. (another draft down wooo) i appreciate any feedback or support :) as always don't like, don't read.

The quiet ambience of the usually extremely busy bar in Penacony’s Dreamscape was an unusual feeling. Only faint sounds of glasses being put down, water running and heavy footsteps could be heard. Everyone had left, besides the bartender and you. Behind almost a wall of empty glasses, once filled with all sorts of alcohol, your head was laying on the bar counter. Your hair was sprawled not only over your face, but also over the bar counter.

Gallagher, the man who had served you the entire night, was taking peaks at you every now and then. He chuckled to himself at the sight. Gallagher had to deal with drunk people every day. It was a chore at this point, but seeing such a pretty lady let herself get that wasted? Not an every day event. Seeing any human come down here was a rare occasion anyway. The monsters here didn’t really help the bar's reputation either.

“Hey Doll?” He spoke to you, as he put down the last few glasses on the drying rack. “G’nna close soon, ya know. Yer also got a tab to close out.” He took a few steps closer, while you mumbled incoherent stuff into the bar counter. You were practically drooling all over it.

The brunette pushed the endless empty glasses in front of you to the side. At the action you slightly raised your head to look at him. The once so perfect makeup smeared not only on the bar counter but also all over your face. A tiny smirk crept onto his face, at the look at your absolutely wasted face, the messy hair, the puffy lips and the rosé pink blush on your cheeks.

Has it always been this hot in this bar? Did someone turn on the heater without him knowing? Not to mention how his pants suddenly felt like they shrieked two sizes.

Jeez.

A rough hand found itself in your hair, gently pulling up your head, to reveal your entire face to him. “Oh..” He cooed. “Yer are such a mess, aren’t ya? Got so wasted, without anyone to help ya home, huh?” Glossy eyes looked up at him, a little nod accompanying them, and he swore he lost it all that exact moment. “Yer won’t be able to pay for the tab either when ya are wasted like that, right doll? How do ya plan to even make it home? Need the big man Gallagher to take care of ya, don’t ya?”

Shock consumed your body, the alcohol making every emotion feel ten times more intense. Tiny pearls of sweat now formed on your forehead. It was quite hot in this bar after all. You were barely able to keep your eyes open, and he was right. There was no way to close out your tab in this state, nor were you able to leave the bar like this. “S’ sorry…jus…close it out..tip whatever you wan..” A mere whisper, barely even audible to him, but he still chuckled. Your own hand came up to your chin to weakly support your face, his hand leaving your hair.

“And how are ya gonna make it home? Have a much better idea.” He replied while ogling at your tight dress, perfectly hugging every single inch of your body. The dim light in the bar made it stand out even more. Gallagher thought about all the ways he could rip it off you, about the colour of your underwear. Guess he is going to work overtime after all.

Your dress was all ridden up, heavy gasps and slow blinks as Gallagher’s fingers ghosted over your panties. The fabric was beyond soaked, it was practically dripping onto his thigh. The thigh he placed you on, your back tightly pressed against his chest, while his head was placed on your shoulder. Instead of just simply taking off your dress, he ripped the strings to reveal your perky breasts, bra long discarded somewhere on the bar floor. His hard on was pressed against the curve of your ass, twitching every now and then.

The ghosting of his fingers quickly turned into just ripping your panties off, before abusing the little bud that decorated your folds. You immediately threw your head back, as you inhaled his scent. A mixture of sweat and hints of alcohol. The more you squirmed, the more pressure he’d put onto your clit. “Look at her, sweetheart. She’s s’ pretty, all wet f’me. Yeah? Ya like it when i abuse her like this?” He was so nasty, so mean talking to your pussy like this.

For a split second he let go of the bud, only to slap your cunt the moment later, and going back to abusing it. Without any warning Gallagher was 3 fingers deep, and earning quiet screams and moans from you. You kicked your feet and tried to wiggle out of his grip, only for his grip to get even tighter. There was no use, in this state, you were easy prey to the hound. “Where do ya think you’re going? Ya owe me a few drinks. Need to teach a bitch a lesson, or what?” His voice was low, dangerously low. The mischievous grin on his face luckily wasn’t visible to you.

His fingers left your dripping cunt, before slightly lifting you with one arm, the other unbuckling his belt. Your eyes widened at the sight of the absolute monster below you. He was so thick, not extraordinarily long, but extremely thick. He will rip you apart for sure.

“Your heart sounds like it’s gonna pound outta your chest. What? Ya scared?” Gallagher chuckled, before smearing the precum from his tip all over his shaft. “We’re not stopping till i say so, take a deep breath sweetheart.” Two hands on your hips now, as he wasted no time sinking you onto his length. A long drawn grunt left his lips, while you were trying everything to suppress the scream stuck in your throat. It burned, and hurt. He was stretching your tight cunt like crazy.

“Aeons…You’re a tight one..” Gallagher grunted and groaned each time he bounced you down on him. Meanwhile your brain was turning even mushier, if that was even possible at this point.

His tip kept bruising your cervix over and over again, while the alcohol in your blood partially suppressed the pain. He was sure you wouldn’t remember anything of this when you woke up the next day, you were too wasted after all. And for some reason, he found no shame in taking advantage of that situation.

It didn’t take long, till his hips started to stutter, and you could feel your own honeysweet high approaching. He was calling you all sorts of filthy names, accusing you of actually liking this shit. And maybe if you hadn’t been so drunk, you would’ve been able to reply to his comments - agree or disagree. But in the end you were too weak to fight back or even speak - which is exactly what did it for him, what got him so hard in the first place.

It wasn‘t until a few thrusts later, that you could feel his semen fill you up to the brim. Your own orgasm crashing over you, while it felt like your stomach was turning inside out. Thank god, he was doing all the work, otherwise you would’ve thrown up your guts ages ago. His grunts in your ear were nasty, his musky natural scent invading your nostrils. And his dick just kept pumping his seed inside, while he held you still.

„Oh shit…“ He hissed, his voice sounding out of breath. „Ya should come here…more often…get wasted like this for me..“ His hands possessively coming up to grope your tits once again.

You could only whine in agreement, not that you understood any of it. Your body was lying lifelessly on top of his.

Hah…what a night.

#✎ᴠᴀʟ #x reader #smut #Gallagher x reader #gallagher hsr #gallagher honkai star rail #gallagher x you #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #honkai star rail smut #gallagher smut

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