#and i have had my hopes dashed every single time | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

moonieandi · 1 month

Text

snapshots pt. 2 | stanley pines x f!reader

summary: a quick look through concerning the early months of your life “married” to stanley pines, particularly centered around moments in the car

warnings (TW): swearing, illegal activities (of course), descriptions of panic/panic attack or general anxiety, alcohol consumption

tags: fluff, early relationship described, pining, very slight angst, affection

notes: i mean, i liked writing part one? so … i’m just gonna keep writing? do what brings you joy and all that jazz. alsooooo im currently unemployed and have too much time on my hands. any feedback is appreciated, seeing as this is the first (second) time i’m publishing online !

edit 8/27/24: hello! below i have linked my new masterlist that contains updated parts to this series, thank you and hope you enjoy!

word count: 3.7k

| masterlist | part iii |

When you reside within the same place as another, you begin to notice particular behaviors. Of course, Stanley had resided in an unquantifiable number of places in the last decade, but he had forgotten what it was like to live alongside someone.

Forgot about the consideration of messes and manners, and forgot about his socks in corners and cans on bedside tables. These were things he never had to consider when he was confined to a single room and a shared bunk with his brother, but she was different.

The first couple months he found himself stumbling around her at times. Let her lead through doorways, ask her what she would like for dinner, using odds and ends as a coaster here and there.

But she was much the same in that way.

She hadn’t ever had to share her space like this, much less with a man. She fumbled with answers concerning dinner, forgot her delicates in the washer routinely, and had a habit of throwing her feet up on Stanley’s chair when he sat across from her at their poor excuse of a dinner table.

But this was months ago.

No, they both had noticed these intricacies about the other and had more or less adapted around them. Laundry was done half-heartedly, a quick combination of their socks and delicates. A calendar made its home on the fridge with scribbles of dinner plans, and her feet were shuffled onto his lap every night, adjusted to fit across his hips.

But she still leads through most doorways. He would never admit to why.

There were other, smaller things too. These things made him ache somewhere behind his sternum, and he usually shook them off.

Small things like how she curled at her end of the couch, or how she brought her face to any page she was scribbling on, always squinting. How she tidied the living room every morning like they would be having guests. How she came to the kitchen every morning, hand outstretched for the mug he had deemed hers.

He decided to forget about these things. At least some of them that is.

He knew for a fact that she loved it when he drove the most. She enjoyed the movement of the trees out the window, enjoyed stretching her feet up to his dash (despite his initial protest), and she loved the radio in particular.

Common law says to keep your eyes on the road, and both hands on the wheel. But it was very hard to conduct when she leaned forward towards the radio, singing under her breath. She was so relaxed here beside him on the long bench in the front of his long-loved car.

The car had been through hell and back, but he was sure it’d never encountered anything as enchanting as her bellowing singing. It would ring through the car, only ever on the way home, and only ever after a bar visit. The buzz would stray his eyes from wheel and headlights to her, head thrown back singing.

He swerved on the road more than he cared to admit when she was in the car. The reminder of her safety usually woke him up from his fantasies of her with her head thrown back, with her hair spilling around her, and a flush on her cheeks.

But he rarely kept both hands on the wheel, to begin with anyway. His right arm always flung behind, scrunched on the back part of her seat, itching to find the soft back of her neck.

Clearing his throat, he adjusted himself in his seat, both hands returning to the wheel. A smile never leaving his face, a laugh rising as she scooted closer, incoherent 70’s BABBA lyrics sung into his right ear.

He’d admit he likes driving her, in particular, around.

They had made for town for a handful of differing supplies that day.

Stanley, Stan, had a bright idea to earn some seasonal money by making the front half of the shack into a tourist attraction. After an explanation of his initial encounter with a group of town folk upon his first couple days in the shack, she had nodded along in agreement.

They needed money, and the need was only growing of course.

She was the farthest from a financial advisor, but she knew the reserve of money she had come to town with was dwindling, and with them both diving head-first into Ford’s basement business, the idea of money had seemed trivial, at least to her, those first couple months.

She knew though that money wasn’t a trivial thing for Stan (Stanley). That he hadn’t had a successful last decade, and that her life strayed from his own background astronomically.

That was one thing that grated her slightly. How flippantly he spoke of Ford to her, but how he had not shared himself as willingly. It didn’t make him a liar to withhold said information, but the state of Stanley’s (Stan’s) car backseat that first month spoke of a man on the run.

But he had lit up so differently when he dragged her to the front of the shack's cluttered room. Explaining where things would go, a cash register, a display case, and certain merchandise. She’ll admit to perhaps not completely listening to him at the time, but later she would look back and reflect on how he was unsurprisingly a great salesman.

He had been so happy, dragging her from corner to corner, painting pictures with words, but he had looked too enchanting for her to really hear it. One hand in his pocket, the other gesturing, and a smile upon his handsome figure. He had reached back out, dragging her back to the front door, hand on the small of her back as he ushered her around.

It was a dump up here, truly. The one place in the house she hadn’t gotten to scouring for clues yet. She was unsure as to why she left the room untouched at the moment, but she thinks it had a lot to do with the panicked memory of meeting Stan (Stanley), and how the glow of the backroom reflected on his face made her wander in through the front door like a madwoman.

She made for the car very soon after his explanation, eager to get the supplies he would need to renovate the front of the room. He had beaten her of course, opening and closing the passenger door without so much as a prompt, and making his way to the driver's side.

The drive into town had been great as always. It was one of those mid-spring days. Wet on the windshield and crisp until 10 a.m. The hardware store served its purpose, as they wandered from aisle to aisle, looking for particular wood stains and sandpaper.

“Here it is Stanl-” He had come up behind her abruptly. Hand coming up to her mouth, stopping her sentence, flicking his eyes up and down the aisle.

She turned to face him, an apology already on her lips. But he was already looking down at her, a hidden heat behind his eyes.

“What did I tell ya, hun?” He whispered it in the space between them. “I told ya, I can’t be that here.”

He couldn’t be him anywhere anymore, at least not in the light of day. She had tried to shake the old him, but somewhere in the far reaches of her mind, she had a hard time calling him Stan.

Because she knew it meant he was being Ford, not Lee. And it was hard to lie about anything concerning him, concerning Stanley.

He sighed, his hand leaving her lips and running through his long hair. “We gotta get outta here anyways. Come along, hun.” A practiced smile reached the corners of his mouth, another lie.

Unfortunately for his psyche, the cashier wanted to talk their ear off also.

“Oh hiya, Stanford!” And of course, they knew his brother.

A smile crawled up his face anyway, making nice like he figured his brother may have done all those months ago.

“Getting supplies? Any new projects?”

“Uh nah nah, not at the moment. Looking into renovating parts of the shack for some business right now.”

“Business? Really? Never took you for much of a businessman.” The cashier continued to bag their samplings of wood stains. “But hey, life takes ya in odd directions sometimes!”

He tisked. “Don’t I know it buddy.” He shook his head a little, grabbing the bag, peering over his shoulder checking for his smaller shadow. She followed in his wake, slightly downtrodden to have cut their store visit short with her stupid mouth.

“Oh, Stanford!” The cashier called, but he didn’t turn until she reached for his jacket’s dirty red sleeve, tugging to turn him back. Flushed, he meets the cashier's outstretched hand.

“The receipt! You always want the receipt.”

He crushed the receipt in his hand. “Right… right ya, thanks.”

She followed him back to the car, her hand never leaving his sleeve, brushing her warmth against his slightly shaking palm. He doesn’t forget to open her door or to slam the wood stains and sandpaper into the back of the car.

The ride back was tense, and not of its usual bravado and fanfare. He had peeled out of the parking lot all too quickly and regretted it the next moment as he looked over and watched her pale in the passenger seat.

She didn’t reach for the radio, hands folded on her lap. She didn’t look out her window, as the trees blurred differently under Stanley’s hasty speed.

Under Stan’s hasty speed.

He didn’t want this. He didn’t want any of this mess. And he definitely didn’t want to upset her. His arm never met the back of her seat, his knuckles tight around the steering wheel.

He didn’t think of pulling over until he looked at her halfway home. Ram-rod straight, pale as all hell, and eyes blurry with undescribed grief.

He cursed under his breath, pulling the car off to the side of the road, gravel underfoot.

She got like this at times, at his temper. He knew at times he could be loud, that he raised his voice at inconveniences and the T.V. Knew that her lip curled in a particular way when on a very off day, his frustration explodes in her face. He was quick to anger at times, and she was quick to cover.

He made himself so big in the face of things, but she folded into a different shape when he did. And somewhere in the back of his mind, he prayed she knew that he would never turn his anger to her. That he had raised fists before and spilled blood, but he’d never raise them again unless it was for her, if she would allow it.

But he doesn't want her to get small in the face of his, well, everything. Because he had been angry at so many things in succession in his life he lost count, and he doesn’t want to lose the part of himself that cared for her in his anger, and he doesn't want her to fold into odd shapes and shadows in the face of him anymore. But above all, he didn’t want the reminder of his father to taint whatever the hell this was. It was bad enough he saw glimpses of him in the passing reflections from time to time.

He loved the fight in her eyes when they spat back and forth sometimes, a sarcastic, fake fight brewing between them. That’s how they both always ended up laughing at the dinner table most nights, and how he felt closer to her most days. His anger was never her responsibility, or her doing. She had never truly upset him once, and the way they played with words back and forth over a meal like an old married couple rattled a few rusty cogs in his brain from time to time. That his anger could at least be amusing, because when she smiled he forgot all about it anyway.

So he parks the car in Spring and turns to her with his guts in his lap for the first time since he spoke to her that Winter night when he thought his prayers had been answered when she plowed through the shack’s door like a tidal wave.

“I hate this.” He sighed. “And I can’t stand when you fucking look at me like that.”

Her lip curled. Fuck fuck fuck.

“I know.” It wobbled out her mouth. “I ruined the day, I’m sorry.”

He leans back, his hand meeting the back of her seat. A beat, before he turns to her completely, like he does every night across the dinner table with her feet propped across the entirety of his lap.

“I don’t want you to apologize to me. You should never have to apologize to me. I don’t want you to, ever fucking think you gotta hand that over to me again. Because you’ve never done anything to upset me doll, not ever.”

She sniffles, a moment of crisp silence. Spring rain beats on the windows in a mist. A smile comes to her lips, and he sags in relief, anger fading.

“Except when I forget the laundry on the line.” She’s cracking jokes now?

“Except that ya, because I kinda need socks and underwear mmk?” He laughs only slightly, a tiredness seeping into his posture.

“I didn’t used to be like this.”

“Like what?”

“A bad liar.” He admits. He hadn’t disclosed much of his past to her. He wasn’t ashamed of it much when it came to disclosing his long resume to others, but she made him nervous. And he hadn’t been really, truly, honestly nervous in a long time. So he did what he does best, and he lied.

“I could buy the shirt off your back from ya in under 10 minutes I swear.” He readjusts in his seat again, hand slowly creeping up the back of her seat still. “I’m a great liar, it’s how I made it from state to state, and the reason I’m not allowed back in Pennsylvania.”

She laughs truly now. She had figured that was what he was used to. Long trips and longer fibs. She didn’t care much about the morality of it, because when she imagined him somehow corrupt in her mind's eye she remembered him bent over her on the couch, and how it felt to listen to the T.V. fade into the background as he carried her up the stairs. The faintness of her sheets, and the brush of his hand on her hairline.

“But I can’t lie about this, or at least I'm really fucking bad at it.” He interrupts her thought. “I’m the farthest thing from Stanford Pines.”

“Perhaps you are, Lee.” A name she hadn’t used out loud fell between them. “But no one ever asked you to be him.”

She realized quickly in her desperation to reassure him that she was also being a hypocrite. It was hard to call him Stan, she realized, but only because she was afraid of hurting him. The memory of Stanford still lived between them, and although they tried to shutter his existence in the basement they both weren’t very good at playing pretend yet.

But they would need to be. It’d need to be the best con he’d ever pulled, that they had ever pulled. He just wasn’t used to having a partner quite yet. But they needed to be honest now if they were gonna pull it off and bring Stanford home.

“You don’t need to be him. I know you aren’t him Stanley, and I don’t want you to be.” She paused, considering. “If we are going to do all this though, we need to work together. I-I need to get better, I need to call you Stan, and you need to believe me when I tell you I’m staying for the long haul.”

He sighs again, readjusting to look over at her.

“I lived a long time trying to be something great like I thought he was, like I know he is. But I haven’t, I hadn’t, seen him in so long. I don’t know who he is anymore.”

“You both have a surprising lot in common, actually.” She shrugs, a smile coming to her lips in memory. “You both smile the same, and you both doodle the same way, and you both tilt your head to the left when I ask a dumbass question.”

He laughs at this, a memory of passing scribbles and doodles in class back and forth, and the comic books he would spend all night drawing in their shared room’s lamplight. Some things always stick, at least.

She bridged the gap of some odd ten years, and he could at least be thankful about that.

“I just want you to know�� Stan. That when I do call you Stan, I mean Stanley- not Stanford.” She shrugs again, nervous. “Because you’re not him, you're right, and if you don’t want me to lie about this one small detail, it can be between us.”

She had somehow come to the heart of his predicament without much digging. He had worn many hats in his time bouncing from state to state, a conman, a businessman, a thief, and a liar. But he didn’t wanna make her one of those things, and he knew by associating with him she would need to be. Just in the blur of it all, he didn't want to be someone else to her. Not even in name. He wanted there to be honesty between them because otherwise, it wouldn't work. What wouldn’t work?

He finds resolution in her answer. That he will always be Stanley to her, and Stanford to others, at least for the time being. Oddly intimate, closely personal. He wouldn't linger on the thought.

“You’re right as usual, doll.” A smirk comes to his lips. “Team?” He questions, fist uncurling from the back of her seat, brushing between them to meet for a bump.

She smiles brightly now, meeting him in the middle. “Team.”

He sinks in the seat, beat from the emotions of the last hour already. “Okay we need to do something fucking fun now.”

“Like what?” Amused, she reaches between them to turn the radio back on, sick of the silence in the shell of the car. A hum already on her lips.

He smiles, a scheme on his lips, a memory playing in his head when he looks at her.

She flushes, a quick shake of her head. “No, no, no Stan, no I am not doing it no.”

He loves how she fights it but he knows how to get his way with her already, even if it has only been a short six months. Flushed in her seat, and begging him. Fuck.

All he has to do is fucking smile, with that stupid glint in his eyes. “Yes, ya are!” He taunts, a laugh already bellowing. “You’re driving!”

“I don’t fucking know how and you know it!” She had been embarrassed to admit it to him that one night, that she had made it this long without a driver’s license, but he had all but said please that night, vying for blackmail from her. He had told her about his kiddy comic books, so she had to fess up to something stupid of equal measure he felt.

“I’ll teach ya!”

He was already out his door and around the front of the car, opening her own, and reaching across her lap to unbuckle her from her seat when she continued to shake her head.

She moved only when he began slipping his hand under her thigh and around her back to move her across the long bench to the front of the wheel. He sometimes forgot about where he put his hands on her, when he was giddy like this. She never minded, though.

She was still shaking her head when he reached back over her to buckle her into her new spot behind the wheel, laughing all the way. Amused by her protest of this simple thing. Only amused, because he knew deep down she was actually okay with it. Another fake fight ongoing between them, some old cogs moving in his head.

He moved back some, but resided half in the passenger seat and half in the middle, his big hand on her thigh. Fuck.

He leaned down (Fuck), his other hand pointing at things she should have been paying attention to. This is like the shack all over again.

He looked back at her, even more amused by her flustered face, and repeated himself like he knew what was going on in her head. Because, well, he kinda did.

“This is the petal to the right, and the break to the left, doll.” He brings his hand back to the wheel. “This stick on the left is the turn signal, and this stick on the right is the shifter.”

She began to breath again when he moved away, but he was still chuckling through ever sentence of course. Too handsome for his own good.

“Now all ya gotta do, doll, is shift from park to drive, but put ur foot on the break first.”

“Uh… this one?” She put her left foot on the left most pedal.

He squeezed her thigh, goddamnit, leaning back into her to basically physically move her foot.

“No, no, ya gotta only use your right foot. You can’t use both.”

“Why not?”

He shrugs, tilting his head left at her dumbass question. “Because I said so.” He laughs again, hand still very warm and very present.

“Okay, okay… okay.”

He nods. “Okay okay okay, now just shift the right rod up here.” He grabs her hand, bringing it up and showing her the different gears and how to count through them. Forgetting himself in his amusement, hand still on her fucking thigh.

He laughs all the way home, and she thinks it’s worth the constant breaking she does in the middle of the road when she gets spooked by the speed of the car. The road is luckily empty, and the radio is drowned out by Stan’s commentary. She doesn’t mind the jabs at her newfound skill, and he takes jabs right back when she slams the break particularly hard and his head gets precariously close to the dash. She doubles over at that one, amused by the sudden shock on his face, but quickly distracted by the hand still on her fucking thigh. He thinks she looks nice like that, behind his wheel.

They make it back to the shack in one piece, but he’s the one that has to reach over to shift the car back into park.

He realizes when he looks back over at her, that he had forgotten his anger a while ago, and that his hand had made a new home on the soft of the back of her neck, moving from her thigh when he shifted gears.

He would let her drive again, if it meant this.

She’d admit she likes driving him, in particular, around.

He’d just need to stock up on brake pads.

#gravity falls #gravity falls fanfiction #gravity falls imagine #stanley pines #stanley pines x reader #stan pines #stan pines x reader #grunkle stan

476 notes · View notes

sporesgalaxy · 1 year

Text

the way 98 trigun had to rush thru the gung-ho guns left me in a headspace of just not really questioning their existence or motivations much. And early trigun manga / trimax doesnt get into their motives much either, so tbh I just kinda mentally kept glossing over them?

but finishing trimax and rereading it finally got me to wrap my head around the fact that Knives spent years purposefully looking for and/or overseeing the creation of the worst in humanity, and presumably interacting directly with humans very little otherwise, all to prove his point to Vash.

Knives never went looking for anything to change his mind because he was scared of being hurt by what he found again. He had so much hope for humanity that was dashed by discovering Tesla. The point of Trigun is that continuing to have hope and trust in the face of uncertainty is arduous and terrifying, but that its worth it. Knives refused to acknowledge that he was afraid at all, tried to ignore how desperate he was to escape his fear. The only way he saw to avoid feeling afraid and vulnerable was for him to refuse to have any hope or trust in humanity.

Which is, symbolically at least, why Knives doesn't have a single scar from humans. He never risked trusting them enough that they might hurt him again. He could avoid that vulnerability and uncertainty by threatening them into obedience, and thinking of them as tools.

The one time he let a human close enough to hurt him (post-Rem) was Conrad-- and Conrad ended up decieving Knives with what little trust he was given. And Conrad felt his deception was necessary, because Knives was making himself a threat. Which Knives did to avoid feeling vulnerable.

It's a self-fulfilling prophecy. Knives guarantees he sees the worst in humanity, not just because he goes looking for it, but because he is constantly showing humanity the worst of himself. Because doing that makes him feel safe. Because he knows how humans will respond almost every time, when backed into a corner with their lives threatened. They'll try to survive. There's too many unknowns in any other scenario. Too many risks. He's too afraid of another nasty surprise, so he just tries not to be surprised.

Meanwhile Vash, covered in scars, still gives humans the benefit of the doubt. He is willing to risk getting hurt and IS hurt over and over again in order to show them the most kindness he can offer. In order to give humans a chance to show him their best. And he sees it. And it's worth it. man.

#AUAUAGGAHAHHHAHGHAHGHJDHSHHFJSJGJS sorey. this might all be saying obvious things but i like seeing it written out tee hee #my trigun #adddna #long post

3K notes · View notes

honeybeefae · 5 months

Text

Strawberry Wine (Tamlin x Reader)

KINKTOBER DAY ELEVEN: APHRODISIACS

Summary// Calanmai was something you knew about but never took part in, preferring to stay on the sidelines or at home. It would be your luck that tonight, right at the Great Rite began, you would get picked right as you tried to sneak away. Before you can refuse, a sweet-tasting wine is given to you that makes your mind fuzzy, thighs clench, and Tamlin look better than ever.

(I said I was picking back up on Kinktober and in celebration of Earth Day, why not celebrate with the High Lord of Spring? This is my first time writing for Tamlin, and I’m lowkey excited! I hope you all like it <3)

WARNINGS: Smut, 18+. Aphrodisiac Usage (so Dubcon), Biting, Slight Breeding Kink,

You have attended almost every Calanmai since reaching your maidenhood but always stayed in the dark. Watching your friends and others drink and be merry, giving back to the land and magic was fun, but you were the notorious wallflower.

Of course, you fantasized just as much as the other maidens about getting picked to help Tamlin in the Great Rite. It was always an honor to be picked, but after everything that happened over the last few years, this Rite was important. It would be the ultimate test of whether Tamlin could remain High Lord. If he could produce enough magic to heal the land…and hopefully himself.

Working as one of the servants in his house, you saw firsthand how Feyre and Hybern had made him a shell of his former self. Whispers of his weakening power were heard in every corner of the house. You hadn’t been under him when everything had happened, only the aftermath, but it hurt you to see someone so low.

Even if it were his own choices that led him to that place.

As the drums sound out, signaling the beginning of the Rite, you awake from your thoughts and begin to weave through the crowd. You did dream about being picked, but given the circumstances now, you pity the girl who was chosen. She was as much as responsible as Tamlin in the ritual.

Fire dances along the cave walls as you murmur apologies, trying to squeeze past the crowd that only seems to get louder and louder. A cool breeze whisps past you, almost as if it were trying to whisper something, but before you can focus on it, you feel a rough, calloused hand grasp your wrist.

“You.”

Time freezes along with your body as you recognize the rough, low voice. All eyes are on you, taking in every detail of your body as they try to decipher what made you stand out before they all come to their senses and cheer.

Tamlin doesn’t wait for your excuses that were already building on your tongue, turning back to stalk further into the cave that you had only seen in the darkest corners of your mind. You swallow, wondering if you could turn to dash, but before you can, several hands start to push you forward.

Your stomach lurches, and your vision blurs as you stand before several friends, family, and fellow court members. One of them, an elder, smiles warmly at you and holds up a single gold goblet. She whispers something akin to a prayer, though it is so loud you can barely hear her, before she brings the cup to your lips.

“Wait, please,” You raise your hand to push it away, staring at her pleadingly. “I’m not the right one. I was leaving. I’m the wrong girl.”

“Fate is never wrong, young maiden.” She hums, her fingers brushing away your stray hairs. “Drink. You will feel better.”

And despite every alarm bell going off in your head, you obediently open your mouth. It was as if she put a spell on you. The drink, a sweet wine that tastes faintly of strawberries, goes down your throat easily. Your tastebuds seem to explode at the richness of the alcohol, craving more as you grab the goblet yourself and tip it all the way back.

There were chuckles behind you as you frown into the empty cup, looking back up to the woman only to realize she looks slightly fuzzy. In fact, now that you think about it, everything seems blurry.

A warmth blossoms in your belly that makes you sigh, your eyelashes fluttering as the heat goes further down. You’re distantly aware that you are in public and should definitely not be rubbing your thighs together like you’re doing, but the shame is nowhere to be found. In fact, the only thing you can feel is desire.

“What’s…what’s happening to me?” You mumble, mouth going dry as the woman takes your hand and guides you to where Tamlin had gone.

“It’s an aphrodisiac, my dear. Something to lower your inhibitions and anxiety. It will allow more magic to flow through you and into the Earth.” She explains. You know it makes sense. A lot of people are held back by their own fears and cannot access their full potential.

The light dims the further you go until you feel her let go of your hand. You want to protest, to turn and run, but something otherworldly seems to push you forward until you see a small campfire flickering. The people you heard cheering and singing earlier had fallen silent, the air itself stilling as you peek around the corner to see the man waiting for you.

However, in the state he was in, you would describe him as more savage than man. His clothes were all but shredded, symbols painted onto his skin that seemed to glow as his hair fell out of its braids. You couldn’t see his face but knew his pupils were dilated, his canines probably sharper and longer.

“I can smell you,” Tamlin growls, turning his body so that his intense gaze meets your eyes. “I picked you out immediately.”

“I can smell you too…” You whisper, the wine heightening most of your senses as the scent of cedar, rain, and faint honeysuckles fills your nose. It makes your mouth water. “I’m sorry, I don’t know how to do this. She gave me-”

Suddenly Tamlin was in front of you, your eyes immediately falling to his hard cock before he grasps your chin and pulls it up so that he could look into your eyes. There is a wide range of emotions, but the most dominant one is anger.

Anger?

“What did they give you?” His jaw clenches as he turns your face from side to side, taking in your glassy eyes and disheveled appearance. “They gave you the wine, didn’t they?”

“Why are you angry?” You skip over his question, raising your fingers to smooth over the frown lines on his forehead.

“Forgive me for not being thrilled that you are currently under drugs in order to sleep with me.” He snaps, pulling away from your touch. “I would never take advantage of you like this. And for them to think that you needed this…that no one would…”

You might be out of it, but you could feel the pain in his words. He didn’t know about the wine. His mind was spiraling, not only for your safety but also for the fact that his court members thought no one would want him anymore. That this was something they would have to force someone to do.

It confirmed all the worst things he thought of himself and his court.

But you weren’t forced here, not truly. Of course, you were hesitant at the beginning because you had never done something like this before, but now that you were here…you were sure that even without the aphrodisiacs, you would still feel this yearning.

This was sudden and not how you expected the night to go, but you weren’t upset. In fact, it was something you had been dreaming about. You hated seeing Tamlin holed away, to see how broken he was. You just wanted to heal him.

“Tamlin…” You say softly, taking the same approach one would do for an injured predator. “Tamlin, look at me.”

He does, and it damn near breaks you. All the pain, sorrow, anger, disappointment, grief, it was drowning him.

“This may not make sense because my mouth feels numb,” You smile, cracking a joke. “But first of all, please understand no one is forcing me here. I know I could leave any time, I know I could have refused the wine, I know what this means, and I chose it.”

“But-” He starts to protest, but you hold up your hand and smush your finger against his lips.

“Shhh, listen to me,” You soothe. “I cannot imagine what is inside your brain right now. The pressure, the memories, it sounds like hell. Just…let’s just forget about it tonight. Let this be the distraction you need, the healing this land needs, and tomorrow, we can worry about the rest.”

Tamlin gazes down at you, green eyes holding you still as he cups your face with shaky hands. The wind picks up around you, tickling your thighs and arms, before it pushes you forward and up to meet his plush lips.

Somewhere, distantly, you swear you hear fireworks going off as you immediately return the kiss. Your arms wrap around his neck, pressing your body impossibly closer as his fingers thread through your hair. His warmth only adds to yours, making you feel like an inferno as you swipe your tongue along his bottom lip teasingly.

You meant what you said about tonight being a distraction. You are going to take full advantage of sleeping with the High Lord.

His chest rumbles with a growl that resonates to your core, pulling away for a brief moment to look you over before he claims your mouth once more. This time, it is much more passionate. Teeth clash, his once gentle fingers in your hair become a harsh grasp as he pulls your head to one side to expose your neck and shoulders.

“Cauldron save me,” He whispers into your skin, peppering open-mouth kisses to the column of your throat. “You’ve no idea how much I’ve craved this.”

“Likewise-ah!” You yelp as he bites down on your shoulder, just hard enough to make you wince. This doesn’t deter him. Instead, it spurs him on as he lifts you up effortlessly and pushes you against the cold cave wall.

“Look at you, petal,” Tamlin smirks as he cups your face again, running his thumb across your flush cheeks. “And we’ve barely even begun.”

“Please,” Your voice is high and needy as you feel his cock rut up against you, your panties already soaked through. “Please, I need more.”

He clicks his tongue and slips one of his hands between your bodies, his eyes screwing shut as he feels just how wet you are. You moan loudly when he shoves your underwear to the side and teases your cunt, brushing over your clit before shallowly dipping two fingers inside.

“Tamlin!” You groan, resting your head against the wall as he chuckles.

“Trust me, I want to bury myself as deep as I can inside this delicious pussy,” He moans, pushing his fingers in deeper to stretch you out. “But I have to make sure I won’t hurt you. I want you to take all of me, love. Every. Fucking. Inch.”

Hearing him use such crass language only makes your whines increase as he curls his fingers, playing with your body like he knows every cord. You pant as his pace increases, feeling his precum leak onto your thigh as you beg and plead for him to just fuck you.

It’s only after what feels like an eternity that he pulls out his fingers and nudges the head of his cock against your entrance. You want to close your eyes, to make sure you feel every sensation, but Tamlin maintains eye contact as he presses his forehead against yours.

“I want to watch your face as you swallow my dick, petal. I want to watch those beautiful eyes tear up from the stretch and pleasure, to feel those little shakes as you take more and more.” He says lowly, kissing you one more time before he starts to thrust into you.

You couldn’t hold the moan in even if an arrow was notched against your head. Your cries bounce off the walls as he sinks deeper and deeper into you, his breaths coming out in pants as he finally bottomed out. His hands fall to your hips, digging into them with his emerging claws as he looks up at you.

The pupils were so round that you could barely see the green in his eyes, his teeth clenching as he pulls out slowly and thrust back up. The sensation pulls out a string of curses, and that is all the encouragement he needs to start fucking you.

He isn’t gentle, not caring that your back was scraping painfully against the cave wall or that his claws were almost piercing your flesh. Tamlin seems to be more beast than man, and you were no better, the wine enhancing everything as you swear you can feel him pulse inside you.

“Yes, yes, fuck right there!” You cry out, arching your back to try and get closer to him.

“That’s it, love, scream for me.” He growls as everything around him sharpens. You could feel something tingle in the back of your mind, like a gentle kiss, but he hits your spot, making your mind go blank.

And you do. You are certain they could hear you all the way in the night court as you feel your cunt tighten around him. Your orgasm had snuck up on you, but now that you were on the edge, you knew it was going to drown you.

Urgency begins to grow between you as he thrusts faster and harder. It was stealing the breath from your lungs as you chant his name, wrapping your arm around his neck and pulling him into your sweaty chest. Tamlin waste no time in kissing and sucking on your breasts, tugging on your nipples as his own balls start to throb.

“Cum in me, please, Tam,” You whimper, grinding down so that your clit is rubbing against his abs. “Fill me up with your seed, please!”

Before you can even blink, you feel him snap his hips up so sharp that it sends you hurdling over the edge. The tides of pleasure fill your lungs and drag you into darkness as your eyes screw shut, your orgasm so powerful you swear you can feel the ground shake.

And when Tamlin follows right behind you, his teeth connecting to the juncture of your neck and shoulder, you actually do feel it shake. It sends the two of you falling down, but he is quick to catch you, cradling your head while continuing to fuck you full of his cum.

He pulls away long enough to roar before he kisses you fiercely, your own blood mingling with his saliva as you slowly start to come down. Tamlin rolls to the side and brings you with him, laying you across his chest while remaining inside you.

The sound of music is the first thing to stir you to look around, realizing the wine is starting to wear off as your gaze falls back to the High Lord. He looks positively sinful, his chest red and sweaty from exertion while his lips hold a playful smile.

“It’s nice to see that again.” You smile, suddenly bashful now that the liquid courage is gone.

“I have a feeling you’ll see a lot more of it in the future.” He responds, brushing away the strands of hair stuck to your forehead. “Are you okay?”

You look yourself over, noting the bruises and scrapes, but you know they will heal soon. Mentally, you felt…well, those feelings were better saved for another day. Instead, you nod and rest your head on his chest, not wanting to spoil the moment.

He kisses your head, and when you nuzzle down further, your sensitive sex gives a small clench, and his chest rumbles with a warning.

“What? Are you already ready for round two?” You tease, lifting your chin to look at him.

Tamlin smirks again and pokes his tongue against his cheek, giving a weak thrust inside you so that you can feel him harden.

“You’re in for a long night, petal.”

403 notes · View notes

munson-blurbs · 1 year

Text

Single Dad!Eddie x Fem!Reader Series

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

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

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

WC: 8.2k

Chapter 14/20

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Eensy weensy. Miniscule. Microscopic–”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ms. Sweetheart?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Eds?”

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

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

“Sounds messy.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Could Corroded Coffin play again?

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

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

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

Go to voicemail go to voicemail go to—

“‘Lo?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mhm.”

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

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

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

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

“Of course.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Did your friends go?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jeff just shrugs. “You know me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Not you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“For what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah. I can stay.”

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

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

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

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

“Being in a hospital?”

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

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

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

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

“But what if Jeff needs—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I mean, I—”

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

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

“I love her.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

1K notes · View notes

galamalion · 2 months

Text

𐕣. 𝐅𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐋, 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇

summary. time inevitably approaches all, but an otherworldly suitor has other plans for you.

⤷ contents. yandere!vampire!chrollo lucilfer x fem!reader, yandere themes, imprisonment, unhealthy relationships, blood // wc. 2.0k

⤷ notes. a very happy birthday to @ddarker-dreams! i wanted to write something cute and evil as a thanks for all the chrollo treats she's given out! hope you enjoy! <3

Dusk began to creep in across the horizon, dimly counting down the few hours before night would fall, allowing the silver moon to take its place among the stars. Golden rays began to dim, passing through the extravagant window in the room you’d been staying in, casting a faint glow across furniture and floor alike.

Perhaps ‘staying’ wasn’t the correct word to use, though. It made you sound like a visitor, which you certainly were not. The metal lock on the door, the same shade as the setting sun, sealed you into a plush and comfortable tomb, only allowed to wander beneath illuminating moonlight.

It was the only time he was allowed out too, after all.

You remembered the first time you met that man—Chrollo, as he called himself, though perhaps he had gone by a different name in years past. He called you glorious, a singular rose in a field of boring dandelions, waiting to be plucked and worshiped by a kindred soul. As the daughter of a farmer, his honeyed words made you feel warm inside. Night after night you would meet with him in the woods beside your village, listening to him speak about poetry, books, and the world outside your own quiet one. He made you feel alive—like setting a helpless dove free from a poorly made cage of twigs.

If only he told you the dove was just flying into a golden prison. Maybe you would have run then, told your mother and father about the wicked and beautiful stranger in the woods. But his stories and words wove you into a web too tight to escape, and too alluring to even want to.

You sighed, both out of boredom and out of anguish. Your sleeping habits had changed since you’d been brought to this ancient castle. Now you would wake up just before sunset, giving you time to prepare yourself for Chrollo’s bothersome speeches. Back when you were younger you would have found them poetic—dashing, even. But now, all you wanted was for him to leave you alone. Return you back to your family, your friends, and your village.

The first time you’d ever begged him for that he just smiled, wiping tears off your lashes and running his hand gently through your hair.

“They’re gone,” he had cooed, coaxing your back. “There is nothing for you to return to, my dear.”

His words only brought more tears, and broken sobs along with it. A cacophony of anguished screams and hopeless crying continued night after night, and Chrollo had left you alone for them. He returned on the third night, comforting you through your discordant howling and tears, not saying a single word. Only gently stroking your hair and humming a lullaby ever so softly, bringing your wailing to a whimper as you dozed off to sleep, tears still running down your face.

You should have hated him after those words, hated him until the sun and the moon and every last star in the sky burnt out. Until your bones turned to dust and that dust turned to nothing, as all good things should. But instead, you let him comfort you, as he had done before. You let him hold you and sing to you and your hatred dissipated almost as quickly as it came. Now, the only person you can hate is yourself.

The resounding chime of a bell echoed throughout the castle, finding its way under the door and into your ears, and one look outside confirmed what the bell had just screamed to you. The moon, illustrious and horrid—a grim reminder of your fate, stood proudly amongst its brothers and sisters in the inky sky.

Oh, how you preferred the sun.

A loud knock on the door—one you’d grown to expect—caused you to stretch out of bed and to the middle of the room, throwing the closet open.

Dresses in onyx and sangria were all you had, each only slightly different in design. Some had lace trims, intricately made and without flaws. Others had slits so high you were certain your mother would have chased you out of the village herself. All chosen by Chrollo, of course. You didn’t even know what sangria was before you’d met him, a drink too rich for you to ever experience on your own.

“I’m not decent,” you called out, scanning your limited options. A faint chuckle was barely discernible through the thick wooden door, a sign that Chrollo would wait, though not for long.

You shuffled out of the loose nightgown and tossed it into a basket. With Chrollo breathing down the door you had almost no time to carefully choose your dress of the day—not that it particularly mattered to you. But it was better than letting Chrollo have control over another aspect of your life.

A simple black gown, without lace or an indecent alteration, was your choice. The neckline was plunging—far more than anything you wore—but you had learned to push your own feelings down.

“Modesty only matters when around others,” Chrollo had told you. “But here, it is just you and I. There is nothing to fear, my treasure. I am no beast.”

The fangs that creeped out from his smile warned you otherwise.

With a resigned sigh, you walked over to the door, gently rapping your fist against the thick wood. The door slid open with a loud creak—just like every other antique in the ancient palace. Your gaoler smiled upon seeing you, taking the time to look at your body.

“You resemble an ancient tome of poetry, appreciated only by its author,” Chrollo said, stepping into the room.

“Are you calling me old?”

“I apologize if you took it that way,” he chuckled, brushing a stray hair out of your face. “I merely mean to say that you are a sumptuous artifact, deserving of being remembered by history for all time.”

You scoffed, crossing your arms and ignoring the shiver that never failed to arise when Chrollo was with you. “I prefer a simpler life, thank you.”

“I believe this one suits you far better. If you gave it a chance, I’m sure you’d come to realize the same.”

“I liked my old one.”

“Come now, my dear,” he sighed, moving a cold hand across your shoulder blades. “You always insist on speaking of the past. Why not look towards the future? It has so much to offer you.”

“Have you grown bored of comforting me?” you spat, pulling away from his touch. “Where are your soothing words, your golden gifts? Have you found a new game to play?”

Chrollo frowned, not bothering to reach for you again. Instead his arms rested at his sides, peacefully. Lifelessly.

“I have grown tired,” he emphasized, “of your refusal to move on. I have given you so much, only for it all to be rejected. I thought time would sway your choice, but it appears that I have failed to consider your…stubbornness.”

His expression had changed in the blink of an eye, now sporting his usual disconcerting smile.

“Walk with me,” he commanded, already stepping out of the room.

Your feet moved against your will, gliding across the floor and after Chrollo. It was something you hated, even more than his smug attitude and unneeded grandiose vocabulary. You could always reject him with your words, but in the end he had the power to cut your actions short. An obnoxious monster, as always.

“I have been thinking,” Chrollo began, trailing the dark halls, “about us. And my offer. I believe that I have been…entertaining your behaviors for too long. Time is a fickle thing for beings like you, and I fear you may not have much left.”

“I’m not dying,” you snorted. “Or are you just worried that I might start wrinkling early?”

Chrollo laughed at your words, “I am not afraid of fine wine, my dear. Just that your behavior will soon spiral out of control. If something were to happen, I would hate to have to chase you down. That is all.”

Your walk ended in the garden, bushes towers high above you and Chrollo. It was a place that, despite its beauty, you weren’t too fond of. It was a maze of Chrollo’s making—intentional, knowing him. If something were to enter through the garden, they would never make it to the castle before Chrollo got to them. And more importantly, you would never make it out.

A clearing stood before you, a wooden pavilion with a dozen chairs surrounding a table. Where fancy ladies would meet for fancy tea and gossip about the fancy going-ons in the palace. Like in storybooks you would read as a child.

“I hope you don’t mind,” Chrollo said, approaching the table. Upon it laid a goblet, and, despite the distance separating you, you could make out the sharp gleam of a knife.

“Choices must be made my dear, and I’m afraid that this is one I must make myself. I cannot bear the thought of being without you, and I seek to make our union permanent.”

Chrollo raised a hand in your direction, willing you to stand right before him.

“I could sink my teeth into your throat,” he chuckled. “We would become closer, that way. But you are wearing a 12th century royal Gorteauan gown, and I’d simply hate to ruin it.”

Your blood ran cold as he grabbed the knife, bringing it between you. It was almost as sharp as his fangs, but just as dangerous.

You knew what it was for, undoubtedly. Chrollo had talked about it plenty—about turning you into what he was. About stripping your mortality and bringing you a step closer to eternity. To paradise, to Eden, he claimed. You always pushed against his wishes, though. Insisting you had more life to live, that you were too scared, anything to halt the inevitable. But Chrollo was inevitable, and at the end of the day, his wishes all came true. Never yours.

The knife made purchase with the palm of Chrollo’s hand, causing droplets of crimson blood to spill out from the wound. He brought his hand up to your face, close enough for you to smell the iron from the cut.

“You only need to ingest a little bit. More than a lick, of course. But I’m quite potent,” he smirked.

If you weren’t so terrified, you maybe would have chuckled. Maybe you would have ran.

Chrollo’s smile slowly fell as you continued to do nothing, “Go on. I would hate to force you to do this as well.”

You took a shuddering breath and looked at the pool of blood, “Will…will it hurt?”

“Not a bit,” Chrollo assured you, his smile returning. “It will be painless. You’ll fall asleep afterwards, and your old life will feel like a dream. A rebirth, if you will.”

He continued, “Just think of what you will be now. No longer and Eve, now a Lilith. You will have power, permanence among the living, and me."

“...And it won’t hurt?”

“Not a bit,” he smiled.

You slowly lifted his hand, still freezing cold, closer to your mouth. You let the blood touch your quivering lips, staining them crimson. Perhaps you looked alluring, shaking like a deer with your reddened lips. Especially to a beast like Chrollo. A beast you would soon become.

With one final anguished cry, you drank of his blood. It was as cold as his body, perhaps even colder. It did nothing to freeze your nerves, nor stop the tears that rolled down your cheeks. Those, too, began to feel colder and colder.

Chrollo held you close, running his free hand along your shoulder, whispering sweet comforts in your ear. Already the world seemed to be getting darker as each touch felt more dull.

“Now, now, my dearest angel. Imagine what new heights we can reach,” he chuckled, wiping stray blood from your face.

“We have all of eternity to see them. Together.”

#chrollo lucilfer x reader #chrollo x reader #yandere chrollo lucilfer x reader #yandere chrollo x reader #chrollo lucilfer #chrollo #yandere chrollo lucilfer #yandere chrollo #yandere x reader #yandere hunter x hunter #yandere hxh x reader #mdni

391 notes · View notes

jillsandwhichs · 18 days

Text

joel miller x reader smutshot collection , chap 3 , husbandly duties

masterlist

Pairing: F!Reader x Joel Miller

Summary: It is yours and Joel's 3rd year wedding anniversary and he makes sure it is spent well

Status of your guy's relationship in this one shot: Married

WC: 5.7k

Type: NSFW

Warnings: Making out, Dirty talk, Slight foreplay, P in V, No protection, Joel cums inside of you, Missionary, Choking, Spitting kink, Joel is soft but not too soft, Clit rubbing & possibly more

A/n: Hi! Hope you all enjoy. Please check out my masterlist, there's a lot of stuff there. You can get to know me, you can see the rules of my blog and then you can see all of my fanfictions. You'll be able to find the previous chapters to this fic and upcoming ones. You'll also be able to find my Wattpad & AO3. Comments, reblogs & likes are appreciated. Thank you

Work, work, work and more work. This damn job is draining your mental health. You love being an office worker, sure, you get a lot of free time and the work you do isn't hard, at all, but it is so time consuming and insanely boring. You'd kill someone if it meant you could have a normal schedule and go home at a decent time. You miss your old job, it was crappy, but the schedule was great and you got to go home at the same exact time, every single day you worked there.

It is 8:00 PM already and you've been working since 10:30 AM, it's been a terribly long day.

What makes it a billion times worse is the fact it is your and Joels three year anniversary. In total, you've been together for five years, but you guys got married three years ago, it was a wonderful day filled with love and gleam. You miss it and you remember it like it was yesterday. Your dress was long and beautiful, you looked gorgeous. Joel was dashing that day, he is everyday of course, but that particular day he was perfect.

The day was beautiful too. August 13th 2012, your most favorite day. But with your luck, you had to work and Joel did not. You wish you could be home with him at this very moment, having a tasty dinner with him while watching a movie, then afterwards he rearranges your guts...

You've been day dreaming of that today, honestly. You've been horny, ovulation isn't for the weak. You've been craving your husband all fucking day. You'd do anything to be with him right now, you truly would.

Aside from that, you have to focus. You're on your final document, the more you concentrate, the faster it'll get done. Joel is going to pick you up from work, so that's something to look forward too and you can't wait to see him. You can't wait to be beside him again. You want to touch him, and kiss him, hug him, everything. You just miss your husband, so very much. It is definitely a mix of your clinginess, ovulation & sadness.

Alas, you began to transfer all your brain and will power into your work, the sooner, the absolute better.

Finally! You're finished. The first thing you did was whip out your phone to text your husband, hopefully the dummy didn't fall asleep. You know his job is also tough on him, he's a contractor, it is very hands on work and it's understandable that he is exhausted more than the average person. You began to type out your message until you officially finished it, then you sent it to him.

"Handsome, I finished working. Come get me. Love you."

You were so ready to be home.

Whenever you have to wait for Joel, you just relax in your office either on your phone or your computer. Luckily, despite this being a plain Jane office job, you have your very own office. It's designed to your liking. When you got it officially, Joel helped you decorate it; He's genuinely a life saver. One time, when he came to pick you up, he came up to your office to help you carry some things down... He ended up having to carry you as well due to your legs being way too wobbly...

You turned your computer off and slightly reorganized your desk top. When you come into work tomorrow, you don't want it to look the same as it does now. This is like a ritual at this point, cleaning up your work space daily. It's a great habit to have. You set your pens and pencils back into their case and you set your mouse pad back in its original position, placing the wireless black mouse on top of it. You made sure your personal spaces looked spotless and your desk was no exception.

Your phone buzzed on the white desk top, Joel messaged you. He never texts back too late. The longest you can recall was twenty minutes and that is because he was working. He's truly a wonder, no man you've met was willing to do such a thing, answering quickly. Your ex prioritized his games over you, it was exhausting but now, you have yourself a real man - Joel.

His message read:

"Alright sweetheart, on my way. I love you too."

The message made your heart melt.

Joel is such a sweet man. He's rough on the edges and cold at times, but he's your baby at the end of the day. You see sides of him that no one else does. His brother, Tommy, when you first met him described him as an asshole but once you got to know him, your perception totally changed. You are grateful for Tommy though, he introduced you to Joel. Without him, who knows where you would have ended up or whom you'd end up with.

Once you two started dating, you had asked Joel what he thought of you when he met you and his response was touching.

"I saw you and knew one day, we'd end up like this. How we are now, I just knew it after getting to know you little by little."

He even repeated those very words in his vows to you on your guy's Wedding day.

Oh how you miss that day - The amount of love and faith passed around that day was joyous. Now, today you get to celebrate it all over again, a tradition you are more than okay with uplifting. Last year, you put on your Wedding dress, Joel his suit, and you two danced around your living room. The little moments like that are precious and sacred. You don't plan to do that this year, you'd rather go home and eat something, but it is a sweet subject.

You found yourself biting on the end of your pen as you thought about him and all the two of you have been through. You're like a school girl who gets her very first crush. You're obsessed with Joel, you'll admit it. It isn't a bad thing, not at all. You're happy to be with a guy who has you all over him. If you weren't, it wouldn't be a very passionate and fulfilling relationship, now would it?

"Gosh." You giggled to yourself, dropping the pen into its case. You stood up and double checked your office - Everything is in check. You, unfortunately, do work tomorrow so you want this office to be pristine when you come back. You may be bored and spent, but you aren't those enough to put yourself through hell tomorrow morning. But, everything seemed well enough.

You decided you'd wait outside for him to arrive. There are benches surrounding the front of the large, industrial building that you could wait on. Usually, you stay in your office and await a message from him but the sooner you're out there, the absolute better.

With your phone, drink and purse in hand(s), you made way out of the office building. The company you work for primarily focuses on having customers purchase things you sell; You work in the department for selling goods such as food, clothes and more. Other departments include things such as outside work and children's toys and wear. This section has always worked best for you and it's HQ is massive, you've always felt important walking into and out of the establishment.

Your office was set on the third floor and you couldn't complain, others were in the sixth or seventh. All you have to do is use the elevator and leave. You won't lie, sometimes you're a bit nervous doing this, in fear of the wrong person being outside when you are as well. You shoved those scary thoughts to the side, wanting to focus on the good and the possibility of greatness.

Exiting your office, you saw one of your coworkers, Leroy, leaving his office too. "Hi." "Hey stranger, you heading out?" "I am. Joel is picking me up." "Good to hear, once again, happy anniversary to the two of you." "Thanks Lee, we seriously appreciate that." Leroy was always a kind soul. He's an older man, he's wise and witty, you've always enjoyed that about him. Joel has always been a bit sketchy about the men you endorse yourself with but Leroys never bothered him. In fact, they've spoken a good few times.

"You leaving as well?" "I sure am, I also won't be here tomorrow." "Why's that?" "My sons wife is having my grandchild tomorrow, I can't wait to meet the little one." Leroy expressed great love for his children and grandchildren. He has three kids, two sons and a daughter. He also has four grandkids, three from his son and this upcoming one from his second son. From the pictures you've seen, they're so stinking cute! "That's amazing Leroy, congratulations." You are happy for both him and the parents. Such a blessing.

Kids was never a topic you and Joel much discussed. You want them someday for sure, but not yet, you want to wait maybe another year or two. Joel is great with children from what you have seen. When he met your younger siblings, he was so gentle with them, even sat down and played with them. Moments like those make you want to have babies sooner but you must wait, it isn't the time... Yet...

The elevator began to desend both you and Leroy down it and onto the first floor where the exit was.

When it opened, you stepped out of it alongside him. The two receptionists said bye to you both.

"I'll see you soon Leroy, have a good time meeting your grandbaby." You said to him with a friendly voice. "I sure will, take care!" Leroy shouted as he got into his truck and drove off into the moonlight.

You were all alone. You sat down on the wooden bench near the entrance of the establishment and waited there. The drive from your home to your work isn't all too bad, maybe ten minutes at the most but Joel tends to speed on the back roads and that gets him here much sooner than normally. You couldn't wait to arrive at home. Something different about you is the smell of places, they bring you different feelings and senses.

At work, you feel normal, just fine & content. The way the atmosphere is at work is boring, you don't have much fun there ever and you truly only like it for its isolation purposes and it's amazing pay. Home smells like Joel, who is your comfort and your joy. At home, you can let loose and be your honest self - Your best version. You have transferred your home into what was once a regular, janky house into a safe space for you and your husband to gladly share.

If you and Joel do have children someday, they'll surely be smothered in affection.

Gazing up at the countless stars in the sky, you tried to pass the time. It felt like ages before Joel actually arrived. You are also just utterly impaitent, you want to be home now. "Ugh." You groaned out, tossing your head back on the bench, a pouty look forming on your face; You texted him.

"Handsome, hurry, I miss you."

That'll get him speeding.

Joel is a smart guy, he is safe but also risky all at once. You worry for him, of course you do, but you trust him with your life. You practically trust him with anything. If he had to perform a transfusion on you, honestly, you'd let him. Joel is your lover and you love him more than he could ever imagine. Some may find it questionable, how much you have faith in him, but you don't at all, it's just how it is when you're in a relationship like your very own.

A buzz came from your phone whilst you were roaming the never ending thoughts that spiral in your head.

"Just entered town baby, now you be a patient girl and wait."

That got you wet, bingo.

Joel being strict has always had you in a chokehold.

"Fine."

And send.

That very recognizable black, lifted truck pulled into the parking lot. It's headlights were shining brighter than a diamond as they came through. Joel tinted them, the beam of them dimming as he parked and got out of the truck. He looked as good as ever, your handsome husband. He didn't park too far from the building either, it'd be only a couple seconds to walk to it but Joel is too much of a gentleman to let you amble there alone.

"Hey babygirl." Joel said in his deep, Southern voice as he spotted you. "Hi honey." You stood up, running up to him and jumping into his burly arms. Joel accepted your hug with open arms, a chuckle emitting from him as he held you. "Ya miss me baby?" He squeezed you, kissing the side of your head and getting a whiff of your fruity scented hair - He loves it. "So much." "I missed you too." Joel gruffly mumbled against your neck, pressing kisses to it.

The hug was long and loving. You missed him very much, especially his touch. Your guy's anniversary means the world to you and him, you didn't want to waste anymore time.

"Take me home." You laughed, still being held by him. "Sure thing darlin'." He replied, not putting you down but instead carrying you to the truck. You do have a personal vehicle but it is in the shop right now, so Joel has been driving you to and from work. Even when you do have your car, he'll drive you sometimes just for extra time. It's sweet, truly. Joel opened the passenger side door, the truck light turning back on when he did. The truck smelt great, he must've inputted a new air freshener. "Get in baby." He patted your ass as you got into the truck.

You scoffed playfully, sitting down and buckling in. The smell was actually amazing; The scent was earthy and woodsy - It's definitely Joel's vibe. He then got in after you, an audible grunt being heard from him as he sat down. You couldn't help but smile and admire him. He is wearing a stained blue t shirt with faded blue jeans, it appears to be casual clothes, or his work clothes. He didn't have to work today, yet you did, kind of bullshit.

He started the truck up and began to drive you two home.

"Leroy is having another grandbaby." You started up a conversation. "Is that so? Well, good for him then." Joel responded. He didn't know Leroy as well as you. "Yeah, thought it was cool, the baby being born around our anniversary." You giggled, leaning against the center console and looking at Joel. "Sure. And by the way, happy anniversary baby." Joel added on. He didn't forget, you know that, you two exchanged some kisses and cuddles this morning in honor of it. "I'm sorry you had to work today, on our special day." Joel concluded.

He's such a sweetheart.

"It isn't your fault, honey, it's not really anyones." You commented, taking his free hand in yours. Joel glanced over at you and gave you a hearty smile, knowing how much today meant to you. "I have a surprise for you at home." "You do, what is it?" "Now doll, if I told ya, that wouldn't be much of a surprise now would it?" Joel chuckled, bringing your soft, small hand up to his face and kissing it gently. "Well, you already revealed there's a surprise at home for me." "I did." "So... Wouldn't that mean it isn't much of a surprise?" "Can you just be quiet, my dear?" He teased you, his corners creasing as he bellowed.

Oh that smile and the way his eyes change as he laughs, it warms your big heart. You love seeing Joel happy and well, it makes you feel out of this world. "I love you." "I love you sweetheart." He replied, putting your hand down and instead moving his hand to your thigh. You let out a soft sigh, enjoying his touch. Although, usually whenever he grabs your thigh, it turns into something much more but you won't complain.

You rested your head against the window, looking out at the night sky. It was pretty. Your Wedding night was gorgeous too. It rained that day though, you love the rain but surely not on your Wedding day. You kind of, in a way, hoped it would rain tonight. It would be something special to you. When it was raining that night, you and Joel kissed passionately under the dazzling moonlight, embracing each other as you did. It was so memorable and you often catch yourself thinking about it.

Also, you were very curious as to what the upcoming surprise Joel has for you is. It could be anything. It's obviously for your anniversary, so it has to be wonderful, right? Anything Joel does for you isn't taken lightly, you love it all and cherish it equally. He puts in the effort and that is what matters most to you. You'd just have to wait the car ride out to see what it was.

Joel's hand still rested on your thigh and he'd squeeze it every so often, making you more and more wet. It's not shocking - Joel's touch has always been able to do that to you. You couldn't wait to get home with him, maybe he'd let you have him tonight.

Sometimes he's just too tired and that is understandable, he's a contractor after all, a busy man, you'd never ever pressure him into something he isn't in the mood for. But hopefully, he's in the mood tonight.

Pulling into the driveway of your guy's shared suburban home, Joel released a grunt as he parked his truck directly in front of the garage; To him, it was pointless to waste time driving it into it. He took his keys out of the ignition and gave you a quick look of 'C'mon' before he then opened his door, hopping out of the truck. You did the same. As you climbed out of the truck, you saw Joel waiting at the front porch for you. Such a silly man.

You shut the door and ran up to him, a contagious giggle came from you. You were excited, curious on what this socalled surprise was going to end up being. "I'm going to need you to close your eyes." Joel said softly, his hands going to your hips as he caressed them; He plans to hold you as you walk, just for safety measures. "Okay..." You hesitated but closed them shut & tightly, truly not wanting to ruin the surprise at all.

"Alright..." Joel spoke out with his deep, gruff voice. He opened the front door and began to lead you through the house and up to your guy's bedroom. You knew that's where you two were headed considering he had to literally carry you up the stairs. "I'm nervous." "Don't be sweetheart." He kissed your cheek and set you down as you reached the top.

The sound of him opening the bedroom door was heard loud and clear and afterwards, he ushered you into the room. Already, it smelt lovely, like roses. "Mmm, the smell." "Glad you like it, doll." Joel hummed, his hands now going over each eye. "Now, babygirl, you ready?" "Yes, I am." You snorted, your arms resting at your sides. "Ok." Joel laughed, removing his hands and allowing you to finally see what he had done for you and oh, it was magnificent.

All across the bed were rose petals, scattered neatly. The lights were dimmed, causing the atmosphere to seem very sensual. There was also a tiny, red box on the bed that you didn't pick up immediately, but once you did, you took a quick scan of the rest of the room. It was fully cleaned, he actually cleaned for once. The bed was even wonderfully made, for now... On your guy's dresser were lit candles, and that snapped you out of reality.

"You dumbass, did you leave candles lit when you came to get me?" "Hon, it was a sacrifice I was willin' to make." You scoffed. This man sometimes... Although, you couldn't help but titter and the laughter only increased once you opened up the red box. You were surprised, that's for damn sure, but also super happy. Inside was the morning after pill and instantly, you knew what he was implying. "Jesus Christ." You began to laugh hard, too hard, to the point you flopped onto the bed.

Seeing you lose it, also caused Joel too.

"Gosh baby, this is just-" You laughed so hard, you couldn't breath and Joel had to calm you down.

"Alright sweetheart, breathe." He snickered, cupping your face in his larger sized hands. You let out a deep breath, trying to collect yourself but it was hard. This man went out of his way to buy an expensive ass pill just to be able to cum inside of you, such a jack rabbit. "Okay, okay, I'm good." You sat up and rested our head against his lap. "Joel Miller, you're such a funny man." "And Mrs. Miller, you're such a beautiful woman and I'd like you to let me show you just how much I love you tonight." Oh his words...

You sat up, climbing into his lap as fast as you could. You were so happy he was down for this, especially on a night like this one. You encased your arms around his neck as you pulled him in for a deep, long & passionate kiss. Joel's arms went around your back, pulling you as close to him as he could. He longed for this, all damn day and so did you. Your guy's lips moved in a sloppy manner as you made out, just wanting each other ASAP and not being able to remove your hands from one another.

He gripped your ass, grinding you against his lap as he held you. Your pussy only got more wet by the second, each push & each pull made you yearn for him badly. "Joel..." "I know baby." He huffed, going back to kissing you with love. You held onto his scruffy face, your nails scratching lightly against his beard, enjoying how manly he was. His lips felt so heavenly against yours, his have always been the perfect match. Your guy's lips were like puzzle pieces that were finally able to connect.

"Mmm, here." You suddenly pulled from the kiss and began to unbutton your work shirt with the help of Joel's needy hands. He speedily removed it, tossing it to the floor and his singular hand snapping your bra off; You two were getting into it immediately. Joel brought his head down to your breast, suckling on your nipple and in his other hand, fondling the breast beside it. "Oh!" You moaned, tossing your hand back as your fingers roamed through his shaggy hair.

Joel has a huge thing for your tits, he thinks they're perfect.

"My girls." Joel rumbled out, kissing your tits numerous times whilst rubbing them. You giggled as you watched him, he was like a kid with their prized possession. He went back to suckling on them, both of his hands holding your lower back now. You held his head in your hands, practically babying him as he licked your nipples and kissed your breasts. "You're so sexy." You whispered, kissing the top of his head.

Your husband looked up at you, desperation full in his eyes. It is so clear he craves you just as you crave him. He kissed you gently as he flipped you onto the bed, a cute chuckle releasing from you as he did. He laughed as well, seeing you all giddy was always sure to do the same to him. He crawled on top of you, his hands going to the end of his blue shirt, pulling it off with a smile whilst he gazed at you. "Are we just going to fuck with all these rose petals on the bed?" "Adds to it darlin', don't ya think?" He teased, going down to your neck and biting it.

You tittered, holding onto him as he marked his territory all along your neck. "Mmm, need you inside of me." You whined with a giggle. You seriously needed your husband at this point, you needed his member. "Oh, is that so?" "Mhm." You mumbled, looking up at him with soft, doe-like eyes. "Alright babygirl." Joel laughed, leaning up so he'd be on his knees.

His hands went to your waist, his hands fidgeting with the buttons of your tight, formal jeans. You were required to dress nicely, not casual, each day to work. You usually wore a blouse and jeans, which is exactly what you wore today. "Damn fuckin' jeans." Joel grumbled, unbuttoning all three of the tabs before practically ripping them off of you. You squealed, now only in your panties. Joel smirked, the sight of you absolutely jaw dropping.

"You're so fuckin' beautiful sweetheart." Joel praised you, your wetness increased when he did. You lifted your waist up, a groan coming from you whilst you did. You pulled down your underwear and handed them to Joel, expecting that he'd toss them to the side as always but instead, he balled them up and sniffed them, his brown eyes closing as he embraced your scent. "Lord..." Joel hummed, stuffing the panties into his pocket real quick.

"Babe!" You scoffed while giggling, "You never do that." "Can't help myself, you smell good." He responded; He can be so cocky sometimes.

You stared as he removed his jeans. His erect cock flung out from his tight boxers, his pre-cum visible due to the light in the room. You sighed softly as he climbed back on top of you. You held your legs up, knowing he'd eventually place them on his shoulders for more support... And so that he can go deeper inside of you, but that's beside the point.

He adjusted himself into a position that was comfortable for the both of you. Joel was not selfish, especially during love making. He put you before himself, making sure you always feel pleased and for fucking sure making sure you cum first, always. You can't even recall a time he came before you because he's always too worried about your please - Not an issue to you though. "Can't wait to feel ya." Joel mumbled, grabbing his dick and lining it up to your soaked entrance.

You accepted him, accepted every part of him and waited patiently for him to move inside of you.

The tip of his cock teased your entrance as he so slowly pushed himself inside of you. Inch after inch, you couldn't quite make a call as to when he'd stop until a few seconds later. A whopping 7 inches wasn't something to scoff at. "Oh baby." You whimpered, your arms wrapped around his torso and on his upper back. Your hands were flat on it, the heat emitting from his back absorbed onto your hand, bringing a heated feeling to your own body. "So fuckin' tight baby, you feel great." Joel muttered as he stopped himself inside of you.

He gave you a moment to adjust and get used to him. It was not common for you two to fuck without a condom, so it felt different, it felt better. You gave him a nod, letting him know you were ready and that he could move. "Alright baby, tell me to stop if needed." He was always so respectful. Ever since the first time you two had sex, he's been this way, it never changed no matter how comfortable you two got with one another. "Mhm." You nodded, your eyebrows scrunching as he began to slide in & out of your core.

Each movement felt wonderful. He was so careful, making sure you didn't get hurt by his upcoming roughness. Joel is a softie at heart, mainly with you. No matter the circumstances, you come first. "You're squeezin' me, fuck." Joel laughed, his forehead pressed against yours as he fucked your cunt, making you drip onto him. "Oh yes." You moaned, your hands quickly moving to his forearms for better stability. Your nails dug into them, your lip also digging into your lower one. "That'a girl." Joel chuckled, his speed increasing every so slightly.

You couldn't keep your eyes off of him and his body. He's so perfect, in every way, shape and form. You love this man to death. His cock stroked your walls beautifully, each push and pull earning a quiet whimper out of you. You held him close, the warmth of his body only enhancing the experience of this shared love making. "Fuck sweetheart." He grunted into your ear, his breath hot, it was sexy. "What?" You whined out, holding onto his head still. "I feel like I'm gon' cum already." You loved how he spoke to you.

He lifted himself up from the crook of your neck, his eyes on yours as he grinned at you. His pace began to quicken and the force of his hips increased in roughness, you didn't mind, you only embraced it. "Harder Joel." You panted, touching him all over. "Mmm, you're so pretty, such a pretty little sweet thing." Your husband groaned out to you.

The sounds of his manhood slamming against your womanly hood was loud and so lewd. It was very erotic and attractive in a way. The room smelt like floral and sex, two of your favorite things. You could smell the faded cologne on Joel too, your favorite scent he owns. You had on his favorite perfume, hopefully he took notice of that. "Can't wait to cum so deep inside of this pretty little pussy of yours." Joel managed to speak out, clearly so indulged inside of you. The pleasure was taking over him and you assumed this would be the first time he finished first.

As he gawked at you, you whimpered out a squeak as he began to choke you. Of course, it didn't hurt, he was like a gentle giant, making sure it was just a light grip. One hand held both of your wrists down against the bed whereas the other held your pale, little neck. "Just keep starin' at me, I wanna look into those soft eyes as I cum in you." His way of dirty talking was relentless and always brought you closer to the damn edge.

By the look on his face, you could so easily tell what he wanted to do next and he wouldn't have to ask you twice.

"Open that mouth babygirl."

The words made your stomach twist in the most pleasurable, divine way imaginable.

You opened your mouth up for him, a whine releasing from deep inside you as the hold on your neck tightened, along with his pumps becoming more sloppy and reckless. He spit in your mouth, his white salvia dripping into your pretty, pink mouth. He watched, glory in his eyes. This was something Joel was really into and when he had first brought it up to you, you were totally irked by it.

"Uhm, no baby, that's gross." "Give it a shot baby."

And you did, you never regretted it.

You swallowed his spit, your eyes watering as you did, not because you were grossed out or anything but because you were so fucking close to the edge, you could taste it. "Atta girl." He unpinned your wrists now, his free hand going down to your clit; He could tell you needed to cum now.

Gazing into his eyes, your eyes were filled with desire and lust, you longed for him all day and finally, he was giving you exactly what you wanted. His chokehold only brought you more pleasure as his fingers worked their magnificent magic on your nub. "Cum baby." He purred to you, his chokehold now moving into a caressing of your cheek. You couldn't cum yet, you wanted to hold back as long as you could but he wouldn't let up. Rubbing you faster, he said, "Hon, you gotta cum or else I'll finish first." He spoke so sternly, it was the tone you needed.

All around his dick, you came, your back arching. Joel shushed you lovingly as he held you close, still pumping himself into you. "Mmm, such a good girl, you did well." He praised you, his face buried in your hair. He embraced you so sweetly. You could feel him deep inside of you still, the sensitivity heightening, over stimulation occuring. "Please cum." You whispered, wanting him to just finish. "Kiss me then." Joel grunted, smashing his lips against yours. You cupped his face and licked his lower lip, your tongue swirling inside of his mouth now.

With a few more thrusts, Joel came deep inside of you. You could feel his warm seed shooting through you like a fish in water. You moaned loudly, loud enough for Joel's eyes to widen, then for a chuckle to come out afterwards. "Dear God." You sighed softly, coming down from your high and from the feeling of him - He recovered rather hastely.

Joel pulled out of you and grabbed a random T shirt of his, cleaning the two of you up with it.

"You best not wear that after you just wiped us off." "Imma wear it." Joel shut down your statement, you opened your mouth in disgust, but deep down it was pretty hot of him.

"Anywho, happy anniversary doll." Joel grunted, plopping down beside you and pulling you closer towards him. "Happy anniversary, Joel." You kissed his nose and soon, the tired man was out like a bulb.

#joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fanfic #joel miller smut #joel miller smutshot #pedro pascal #pedro pascal smut #the last of us #tumblr fyp

169 notes · View notes

dreadfutures · 14 days

Text

regarding sept 19:

This needs to be clarified because misunderstanding has resulted in some usually very nice people getting incredibly nasty and bullying others.

This past week, many people - press, and content creators - were allowed a hands-on experience of the new Dragon Age game. They played for about 6 hours. The attendees of this event are under an NDA until Sept 19.

After September 19th, the people who played the game are allowed to speak about it in some amount of detail. The press embargo is lifted, so to speak.

No one who attended this event has come out, twirled their mustache, and said they're going to spoil major game stuff without warning.

If you think you're about to tell me that yes, someone did - no she didn't. I know it's too much to hope for but someday you must learn to not hear every tweet and text as if the other person was personally intending to harm you. Few people really are so malicious. If you approach text neutrally you can tell when people are, or not. Really.

They have instead warned that there will be info shared from this event, probably tagged and warned about (hopefully), but the reporting, sharing, reposting, etc., of that info will be - like all things in fandom - a mess dependent on individual fans. If you care about spoilers at all, get your filters and blocks ready for that. For sure!

But again, it only seems like they had 6 hours or so to play. I doubt the people who attended will be malicious or rubbing stuff in our faces. I doubt the people who attended will even be spilling every single deet. Most people who we know & are connected to the fandom that were in attendance have said they themselves avoided main game stuff, because they didn't want to be spoiled either.

So that is the real information, as best we know it, without fear mongering about a flood of spoilers - and do with that what you will!

A lot of people are starting to wholly block all of the new game's tags because they don't want to see anything else until it drops! This is definitely the time to start. Maybe you do need to go dark and hop off the internet to keep your boundaries, or maybe you feel confident in your dashboard, your friends, and your filtered content, that you won't be seeing untagged spoilers being shared. (I'm in the latter category; nothing has appeared on my dash without being filtered, for months.)

Control your space with the tools you have, but cruelty should not be one of them.

A lot of people (on twitter, love DA twitter, where the worst aspects of all your friends' personalities come out 😒) have been incredibly, viciously belligerent to those who attended this event. They have used really terrible language to bully them as individuals and make personal attacks against them. The dog-piling has been amplified by certain people who were not invited to that event, and by the wording of others who are giving "warnings" about spoilers running rampant, floodgates opening, mayday, everyone is going to be rubbing spoilers in your face after Sept 19.

Whatever you think about the marketing about this game - whatever you think about what EA thinks are spoilers - whatever your personal stance on what you want to know going into the game (or not):

Content creators and press, their job is to talk about the game. In detail. It's their job! Ideally they do it as (is typically done! as many of them have already been doing!) with warnings/tags/whatever when something spoilery might come up.

Harassing them and wishing them harm or calling them terrible things and slandering their character is just an expression of your own frustration, lack of control, whatever - and it's not a good look.

#fandom critical #and immediately turning off notes on this #peace

162 notes · View notes

roseykat · 1 year

Text

KINKTOBER DAY 1

Title: Same coin, different faces

PAIRING: Bang Chan x Reader

WARNING: minors DNI with this post or my blog. I create NSFW SKZ related content and I know I won’t be able to regulate/monitor every single potential interaction with those posts so please do not engage with my work and page whatsoever.

SUMMARY: Despite not being together with Chan anymore, you somehow end up in the back of his car...fogging up the windows.

TAGS: pre-established breakup trope, swearing, a dash of angst but also a hint of resolve, mentions of alcohol (neither the reader nor Chan is drunk), a bit of manhandling by both parties, oral sex (reader receiving), car sex, unprotected, sort of hate/rough sex.

MASTERLIST - KINKTOBER LIST

(This is currently unedited but I will be proofing it later on)

It wasn’t as fun as you had hoped it to be, a party that is. Given it was the end of the semester, people usually prefer to go all out - which they did, but you weren’t feeling it. There were far too many people off of their faces, including your entire friend group that you showed up with.

Two of them were playing drinking games in the kitchen, one of them - Minho, who had completely disappeared for the past few hours, and another one who had found himself someone to hook up with.

In the end, you were on your own for the remainder of the party. After having found a way into the lounge through the masses of people attending and remained on the couch, watching those around you for a while, you decided to get back up and grab a drink. There wasn’t an entire selection to choose from; either warm beer or cheap wine, which you grab from the latter and pour some in a plastic cup to try and fit in with everyone else.

The briny taste of the wine was enough to make you think that maybe it was time to go home. It wasn’t fun, interesting, nor a good way to spend your time on a Friday night. Before being able to make the decision to leave, you find yourself planted on the ground when your eyes catch onto a familiar figure amongst the people.

Chan. Your ex-boyfriend - your ex-best friend at that too.

It was a surprise to see him given that he isn’t really a party goer, but also a surprise to see him in general after the pair of you went through such a tumultuous breakup a month ago. Things just didn’t work out the way they were supposed to which was unfortunate because Chan is one of a kind.

There isn’t anybody like him that exists in this world. He’s gentle, caring, and has a bottomless well of love to give. Now that you’re not together anymore, you know that whoever he ends up with in the future is well taken care of.

“Hi,” Chan says, walking up to you.

“Hey,” you respond back, unsure of how to actually talk to him now. “What are you doing here?”

Chan sighs, looking at the screen of his phone momentarily then turning his attention back to you, “trying to find Minho. I’m here to pick him up, but I can’t find him. Is he here?”

“I haven’t seen him for the past couple of hours,” you answer. “I highly doubt he’s actually here still.”

He sighs and rolls his eyes, “course he’s not.”

“He probably went to Jisung’s at some point,” you add.

“Yeah, that makes sense,” he replies before his eyes peer down at the plastic cup. “Drinking? That’s not like you.”

“It’s the end of the semester,” you say in your own defence. “I was trying to finish off strong.”

“Right. Have you got a ride home then?”

Your eyes dart beyond Chan to ‘your ride home’ who has probably now consumed half of his body weight in alcohol. Chan catches your gaze, turns around and sees Seungmin throwing back another shot with a couple of strangers, presumably his classmates.

Chan sighs once more and faces you again, “don’t tell me he was supposed to sober drive.”

“He won’t be now,” you respond.

“Okay well, I can drop you off. Minho’s not replying and he’s probably not here, plus I’m getting tired,” he offers.

You ponder for a moment. Since Chan had come up to you, you hadn’t felt that sting of pain that a breakup usually induces. Not since the day you both called it quits on the relationship. But that’s only because things were never awkward with him. It’s only until now that you realise how depleting life has been without him. It’s not colourful anymore.

It’s an issue because you don’t want to be reminded of what you don’t have anymore. Sometimes, the best things can be the worst for us.

“It’s okay, thank you though,” you decline respectfully. “I might tell the others to get ready to head off.”

“And who’s going to drive them? You?” He asks with a brow raised then shakes his head with disapproval. “You’ve been drinking.”

“Not that much,” you retort. “I’m not even tipsy, plus I don’t want to leave them behind.”

“Seems like they left you behind,” Chan points out a very good point which you find hard to not be in denial about.

He takes the plastic cup out of your hand and places it on the nearest surface cluttered with other discarded items. He then returns back to you to gently take hold of your wrist and leads you out of the lounge full of people.

“Wait-”

“I’m not letting you drive under the influence, end of story,” he decides.

With that matter in hand, you’re quickly reminded that Chan has always had a strong head on his shoulders and his morals are very clear cut. He held reasonably strong opinions on doing unnecessarily dangerous things, particularly when it comes to you. It happened to be one of the poisonous factors that pierced the final dagger into the relationship.

The cold air then hits you when you both make it out into the front yard.

“I can walk thank you,” you say to Chan who forgets that he’s still holding your wrist. He looks down at his hand and releases.

“Sorry,” he apologises. “Car’s this way.”

He leads you once more just across the street to the vehicle while you think about the fact that you never actually agreed you were going to accept his offer to take you home. In saying that, there was no other alternative other than walking which Chan wouldn’t have put up with anyway.

The pair of you hop in his car, finally able to catch a break from the blaring music that was blasting throughout the house. After both of your seatbelts are on, Chan starts the car and drives away down the street.

It’s not long until silence falls quickly. Things had never been this terribly awkward between you both, but there had been pockets of quietness which used to be comfortable to sit in. Now you can see that it’s not as nice.

“So what have you been up to these days?” Chan asks out of the blue, breaking that silence.

“Nothing interesting I guess,” you answer blandly. “Just studies and that’s it.”

He nods, “how’s that going so far?”

“Fine, I suppose.”

Chan lets out a small huff, “you know, it’s still okay for us to talk right? We don’t need to be so hostile.”

The glow of your phone from your lap catches your attention away from his comment. You blink down at the screen and read a text from Felix.

Lix: ‘Saw you leave with Chan. Please tell me you’re both back on.’

You roll your eyes. You love Felix, but sometimes he can be too optimistic. There wasn’t any way you and Chan were going to find your way back to each other. If anything, it wouldn’t be the same anymore.

“I wasn’t being hostile, plus there’s not much to my answer anyway unless you want me to lie?” You respond back.

“No, I don’t want you to lie,” Chan adjusts his tight grip on the steering wheel. “But you speaking just proves my point on why we shouldn’t act like that.”

You turn your head, shooting him a well-deserved glare. This isn’t usually how Chan acts. He never says backhanded things as such even though he can be relatively blunt. Whatever subtle malice was behind his words obviously came from the same place that helped the relationship tear apart.

“This is why we never worked out because you always had to have some degree of control,” you scoff, ignoring the fact that you’ve now doused the flicker of the argument with petrol.

“I was only doing what I though was safest for you,” Chan argues back strongly. “It was never about having any type of control, it was because you couldn’t see what the consequences were.”

“Then why couldn’t you have let me figure it out for myself? How else am I supposed to learn, when you’re not here anymore?”

“You, driving drunk isn’t something that you just learn not to do. You don’t do it, full stop. Anyone with common sense knows that,” Chan bites back.

“I’m not even talking about that! When have I ever driven drunk? Now you’re just fucking reaching for things! All I’m saying is that it didn’t matter how much time I spent with you, I never got to be my own person. It was like I was turning into another ‘you’.”

Chan shrugs, “in comparison to what you can be like sometimes, I honestly don’t think that’s so much of a bad thing.”

The last nerve inside you, had been struck.

“Stop the car, I’m getting out.”

“No, we’re nearly at your h-”

“I don’t care Chris, I seriously don’t want to be anywhere near you right now,” you cut him off sharply, not wanting to hear another word come out of his mouth.

Chan looks over at you, absorbing how painfully angry you look right now and the fact that your hand is on the door handle, ready to bolt as soon as he pulls over. It was fairly obvious because once he did, you were out of the vehicle before he could say anything more. But as fast as you are out the door, Chan is already on the other side to meet you.

“Don’t go home angry,” he says urgently.

You shoot him a dirty look, thinking who the hell is he to tell you what to do, “or what?”

“Well can we at least talk then?” He questions, trying to grasp onto some common ground here.

With as much force as you can muster, your arms come up to shove Chan by the chest, “fuck you.”

He stumbles back a few steps and is not as nearly as surprised as you are by your own behaviour. Never has anyone elicited as much of a reaction from you until now. The shock has you to the point where you can barely assemble an apology to Chan. Even so when he comes back forward, grabbing you by the sides of your arms, and shoving you right back against his own car.

Before either of you say another word, his mouth crashes straight against yours. His swift hands are quickly groping and roaming in every place around your body that he can reach while you submit to his moves. You’ve forgotten how electrifying Chan can be at times when it comes to intimacy, that you really start to feel it when he slides his knee in between your thighs.

You gasp against his lips, yelping almost when his hands reach behind you to squeeze your ass and to try to bring your body as impossibly close to his as he can. For a split second, you break away to consolidate what is happening. Chan remains latched onto you, his mouth now working its way to your jaw and down to your throat, sucking and biting into your skin.

Neither of you care about whether or not he’s going to mark you up. All you care about at this point in time, is the hope that he’s going to fuck you.

“The door…open the door,” you mumble to him, even though you’re trying to find the handle yourself.

Even with the unshakeable frame of mind that he’s in right now, Chan listens to you. He pulls you forward with him so that he can yank the backdoor open. You hop onto the seat, pushing yourself backwards to the other side of the car to create room for him to join you. But Chan had his own idea planted already.

He grabs you by the ankles and pulls you right back to the edge of the seat closest to him. His hands take pride in reaching underneath your skirt and tearing your underwear down your legs.

He doesn’t even get the opportunity to fully take them off as they dangle on one leg. In saying that, it doesn’t take you very long to click onto what he wants to do. So you help him by doing your best to hike your skirt further up your thighs. Chan decides to take a few seconds to appreciate being able to relive this moment once more by using his thumb to swipe over your wet slit, collecting your juices only to bring it up to his mouth and suck it right off.

“Fucking missed this,” he speaks for the first time in about five minutes before lifting both of your legs and separating them for his head to slot in perfectly between.

The fan of his hot breath washes over your skin, already making your squirm forward towards his mouth. It’s been a long time since someone had touched you and Chan could tell. He knows how needy you can be, but not when you’re like this. Not when you’re straining to reach for the back of his head to pull him closer to your pussy. Not when you’re already moaning when he’s barely touched you.

Not when you’re wetter than what he usually thinks you are.

“Y-Yes…right there,” you sigh out and lie back down, waiting eagerly.

One of your hands threads through his dark hair and tugs every time he sucks on your clit. Shivers of pleasure reverberate throughout your body, already making your legs tremble on his shoulders. If anyone were to drive past, you know you and Chan would get done for public indecency. Except that devious consequence became an elicit far away thought drowned out by your own moans the more Chan continued to eat you out.

The best thing about it is that he’s not going easy on you. He’s being deceptively rough by digging his nails into your thighs and showing zero remorse when he relentlessly licks over that same sweet spot. The more work he puts into trying to make you cum, the harder he gets in his pants, straining at this point.

“P-Please Chan, hurry,” you cry out, trying to sit up and slide down further into his mouth. “Need to cum, please.”

When your begging and moaning become increasingly louder and more frequent, Chan knows you’re on the cusp of an orgasm. However, as much as he used to enjoy you cumming on his face, the idea of you cumming on his cock is just as good, if not better. So just as you’re about to tip over the edge, Chan pulls back.

You blink in amongst the haziness of what was about to be a mind shattering orgasm to see Chan who’s head had lifted up from in between your legs. His mouth and chin were covered in your juices, and is completely unashamed about it.

“You can just fucking wait,” he snaps and begins to adjust your legs so that he makes sure they cage his body at his sides, that way he can grab onto your thighs and fuck you hard and steady.

Although you can barely see, you hear the zipper to his pants open before he takes out his cock, hard and ready to put it to use on you. You bite down on your bottom lip when Chan uses his tip to tease your entrance. He pushes his hips forward, enough to make his cock slide up and in between your pussy.

Chan’s shaky hand manages to get a proper hold around his dick, aligning it with your wet hole, and slowly pushes in as the heat begins to encapsulate around his length. The top half of his body nearly falters forward if it weren’t for his hips that thrust forward first.

“Chris…” you mutter in an aspirated voice, feeling the fullness of his cock stretch you out.

There is no forewarning for the strength he has behind each buck of his hips. It takes you back to times before during your relationship and how deliciously memorable the sex always was. Chan’s main priority was to always make you cum first and regardless of his own needs and pleasure. Whether you misbehaved or were being an outright undeserving brat in bed, even then he would still let you cum. That’s how much he loved you.

“Nobody can ever fuck you the way I do,” Chan grits his teeth, his eyes watching his cock disappear inside of you each time he rams forward, hard and fast.

Every second that goes by, you’re grappling more and more onto your last threads of sanity. It’s hard to keep up and absorb Chris’s stamina and pace - a relentless and unapologetic pace that hits the same spot inside you over and over again until that build up of pleasure starts spreading around your lower abdomen.

“Make me feel…so good,” you mumble incoherently. “Gonna make me cum.”

It’s been a long time since Chan has heard you say those words - hell, even heard you moan at the very least. It’s enough to keep his pace steady but he’s very wary of the fact that he himself is already near the edge of an orgasm too. Nonetheless, he’s determined to get you there first once more.

So Chan lets go of one of your legs at his side so that he can use his thumb to now rub fast circles over your clit. Your hands grip at the hem of your skirt, back arching as you start submitting to the crest of intense pleasure Chan has built up for you. Then within seconds, Chan has you cumming hard around his cock, shuddering, and straining his name out of your mouth as it rings throughout his car.

“Fuck, baby…” he groans as his head tips back before he starts spilling white inside of you.

His hips stutter finally, gently slowing down to a leisurely pace while he drowns in the afterglow from one of the most transcendent orgasms he’s ever had. He gives you both time to come down before he carefully slides out of you. It takes you a while to fully fathom what just happened, but you allow yourself to think about it. Whatever it is, it’s not regret. There’s a longing feeling there, a borderline sense of relief.

Once Chan is decent, he helps you slide your underwear back on even though you’re both fully aware of the fact that he just came inside you. It’s not like either of you were prepared for this to happen. In saying that, Chan gently takes hold of both your hands and gets you to sit up.

“You okay?” he questions, using his finger to hook some of your messed hair out of your face.

You nod, “yes. You?”

“I’ve been worse,” he answers, making you smile. “I’m really sorry for what I said earlier.”

You shake your head, “I’m sorry as well for being so stubborn. I figured that the more hostile I am towards you, the more I push myself away so that I don’t have to deal with any feelings from before.”

Chan completely gets it, “I know. I thought I could do the same, but it seems that I’m too nice.”

You roll your eyes, “you’ve had your moments.”

“I definitely have,” he replies. “Anyway, we should go in case anybody just saw that.”

A bashful sense of embarrassment washes over you. It’s been minutes before you realised that you just fucked your ex. But even so, it doesn’t really feel that way. It’s just Chan, someone who you still have a lot of love for.

“You can stay at mine, it’s late,” you suggest to him.

Chan smiles softly, “as if I’m going to say no.”

A/N: Yes, I am a day late already to Kinktober - I just realised bc my dumb ass was trying to figure out time zones and when would be the best time to upload for people bc I’m quite some hours ahead from other countries. So I’ll just stick to my time zone, that way you’ll get my works a few hours earlier x

KINKTOBER TAGLIST: @mal-lunar-28 @fairy-lixie @dreamingaboutjisung @lizzetmv @luneskies 🩷🩷

#rosiewritesskz #stray kids smut #skz smut #bang chan smut #kinktober

796 notes · View notes

peachetteprice · 2 months

Note

Hi!! I have a request

I have had this idea of singing/hummjng Simon “Ghost” Riley back to sleep after he has had a nightmare or can’t relax enough to fall asleep.

Reader can carry a tune; maybe not a grammy nominee but Simon loves it when they do sing.

Simon doesn’t ask them himself to hum or sing to him, it sort of just happens. No one knows how to calm him down like they do and the way Reader hums/sings one of his favorite songs and gently rubs his back works better than he thought it would.

Thank you 😊💖‼️

Hello! I took some creative liberties with the prompt given. It is only slightly different from what you gave me, but I hope I did it justice! Please let me know your thoughts. @skrubob

(Note: influenced by a sleep disorder my dad has. I don't know, I thought I could relate a bit more with that idea!)

Strangers in the Night

Simon "Ghost" Riley - 1.9K words

It happened again.

It happened again like it happened most nights: without much warning, and for no particular reason.

It wasn't a spectacular night. There was nothing distinct about the moon and its size, neither the thickness of its crescent nor the depth of its craters. It wasn't a notable day for the planets and their stars. Nobody had wished on a comet. Nothing, in fact, nothing had gone on in the day to warrant such an odd happening.

Like every day, whenever Simon was off-deployment, he woke up at 0615. No sooner and no later than the sun rose, did he clambour from the bedsheets with a tired groan and a stretch - only occasionally might he have triggered his shoulder blades to seize up, though, thankfully, today was not one of those days - make his careful way downstairs so as to not wake you, flick the kettle on for a brew and stare out of the kitchen window until its rolling boil turned to a simmer, and it clicked itself off.

The cuppa was perfect.

There wasn't a single thing wrong with it.

In fact, if he could have sampled a half-pint of it, dried it into a powder, dusted it onto a canvas and hung it up on the wall in the bedroom - so that he could have something of a reminder of the most well-balanced cup of tea he'd ever made - then he just might have. Though, that wasn't to say that it was anything extraordinary. Not at all. It was a simple, bog-standard cuppa with a dash of milk, a humped teaspoon of white cane sugar, and all he did at the end, when he pulled the teabag out, was make sure not to pinch the sides of it on the rim; that was all there was to it.

And that was all to re-iterate that nothing at all about Simon Riley's day was unusual.

To insist on that point, as you readied yourself to work, and he gave you your cuppa for the morning - two sugars, a whiff of milk, exactly how you liked it - he made sure to give you a kiss on your lips just as your palm neared the door handle. It lasted exactly three seconds, and there was nothing overtly obscene about the smack that followed or the light tap he gave the rear of your thigh as you left.

When you were gone, he did the laundry. The washing machine finished at nine, so he put the tumble dryer on, too. That finished at eleven-thirty, and everything else was put on the line in the garden, which dried until three. Between then and three, if only to keep himself occupied, he fixed one of the dining chairs that you had leant too far back on and splintered the wooden bar at the lumbar region, for which he had to pop to B&Q to grab another bottle of wood glue, which, by and by, was also nothing peculiar in the slightest.

Once that was fixed, and the washing was dry, he collected, folded - even ironed, if the crinkles needed a spot of flattening, in which case it was one of your work blouses or a pair of his fatigues - then sorted them into the chest of drawers in your bedroom.

And, of course, once that was put away, he had his second brew of the day. Equally as plain. Equally as perfect.

By 1800 hours, you were home, and he gave your lips another kiss. Six seconds, this time, double the length of the one from the morning, with a little more vigour, and unlike the previous, you gave his left buttock a little clench, then a pat, and off you went to check the fridge for dinner.

Spag-bol. Spaghetti bolognese. With parmesan, too. The only thing that could've been somewhat abnormal was the addition of cut-up Cumberland sausages that desperately needed eating up, though it was hardly the monumental incident required to be the reason behind it happening again. It was nice. Dinner. Not your finest work, but then again, weekday meals, especially when Simon was home and you had to cook for two again, never were.

After washing up, you gave him a peck on the cheek, and he held you for a moment against the cabinets, just relishing in the body heat that he missed that morning. And when that was over, you popped the TV on - something completely ordinary in genre, motif, and drama - and fell asleep against him on the sofa.

Perhaps it was why you didn't notice so much. Perhaps if you'd stayed awake, you would have known when, why, or how it came to be.

An hour or two - or some duration of time in between - of light sleep passed, and you woke to the sound of his electric toothbrush whirring away. You joined him in the bathroom to brush your teeth, he slung an arm about your waist and drew circles into your stomach, though you were still some variable of dazed by the sudden jolt from being asleep to awake, but it was all alright, truly, because within two minutes, you were dead asleep again.

It was uncertain how much time had passed between falling asleep and being awake again. That was the terrible thing with sleep. Sleep blurs the lines between seconds and hours. What could have been five minutes could have easily been five hours, and what could have been ten hours often felt no longer than ten seconds. Time becomes an illusion, much like the theory in which, on one planet, it is equally plausible that thirty seconds in passing may equal three days in another, and yet, both planets cohabit the same space, the same universe, mere light years apart.

When you did manage to fall asleep again after brushing your teeth, and when it did happen again, it was a mere three seconds.

There was shouting. Some rambling. It bled into your unconsciousness until, with a rather heavy dip in the sheets, a bolt from the blue, you were left wide-awake.

"Simon?" You said into the void. There wasn't much to be seen at night.

"Where? Where is it? There's a--"

--You were awake now. That was for definite. Three seconds had passed, and Simon was awake, too. There was something odd about the frenzy in his eyes. If it wasn't for his blown pupils, you would have been convinced there was an intruder somewhere in the house. But he looked delirious. Three seconds had passed, and he hadn't slept a wink for something more like three days. But in the same breath, he was barely awake.

He was somewhere in between, mumbling under his breath about a spider and how it was somewhere here, in the bedroom, and it wanted him.

He wasn't making any sense - Simon Riley was not afraid of a bloody spider.

Twenty-two hours, eighteen minutes, and three seconds had passed. Nothing pertubing had happened prior, and yet, it was happening again.

"Simon, love, go back to sleep." You enveloped the shadow of his waist and pressed him back to the mattress - luckily, he hadn't left the bed yet. He was in and out of it, then. Ever-mumbling, eyelids still bursting wide every few seconds with the type of fear that should have only been present in somebody murdered. "It's alright."

It didn't happen often.

A few times since you'd been together, all countable on one hand, which, at this point, was years. He'd told you it might happen the first night you'd slept together in the same bed. Not the first time you'd slept together, full stop, but when he moved in and co-opted the king-sized bed in the bedroom. It was real, then. The relationship.

He never remembered it in the morning. Never did. Never will. You know he never did - he would have apologised if he did. Never asks if it's happened, but he's sure it has, because he notices the way your eyes never leave him the morning after, as if you're worried he might start yelling obscenities again and you have to hold him.

You always have to hold him. Like his mother did. One arm along his belly, stroking his stomach, and the other around the curve of his head, petting his hair like he's a little lamb. He would never be embarrassed about it, what you have to do to calm him, but if he were to ever ask if he'd ever woken up in a state, looking half as scared as a little boy in the dark - you wouldn't tell him. No. It's only a memory for you, and you'd rather like to keep it that way.

"It's alright." You cooed.

Sometimes, you sing to him. If he needs it. You sung that night, actually. He needed it that night. God, you must have sounded awful. Part of you was pleased at the fact that he never remembers it once he wakes up, because you'd quite like to avoid the conversation about how you can only just about hold a tune, and not with much fluidity.

It was Etta James' I'd Rather Go Blind.

The DJs on Smooth Radio played it during crawl traffic on the M60, rattled on about how incredible of a voice she had, they did, which was salt in the wound, really - there was an accident that morning on the hard shoulder, it took all of fifteen minutes to clear - and it was all that was stuck in your head at work, on the toilet, in the break-room and in the car on the way home.

It was the only song that came to mind as you started singing. A few wobbly notes here and there, nothing but of jumble of lyrics where it was certain you'd said more than one of the pre-chorus lines in favour of getting to the chorus itself, and you could hardly stop yourself from whispering some notes that you knew you wouldn't be able to reach at a murmur.

Simon settled a little at that. You were sure there wasn't much cognition behind those eyes - he was nothing but a walking zombie whenever it happened - but his hands clasped the one on his stomach, his pupils pinched back to normal, and by the second chorus, he was calm again.

You held him for a while. A long while. Until daybreak came in. Just to make sure it wouldn't happen again.

And at 0615, when the sun crept in to cast its shadow along the foot of the bed - and it would still be another hour until you rose - Simon awoke, stretched out his shoulder blades - though, this time, they did seize up - and faced your conked-out body.

Simon did notice something peculiar, then.

Your arms wrapped around his torso - which were often the other way around - should have been clutching the covers. There never meant to be a kink in your brow. Never was. Never should have been. Only on the mornings when you looked at him with too much empathy - when something had happened the night before that you never wished to talk about, was there ever such concern knotted into them.

And, in that moment, Simon knew. He leant a kiss to your lips, later joined them at your earlobe, too, before whispering;

"Thank you, love."

And there actually was something anomalous about that day, irreverent of the last. For some reason, whether because of the stars, the moon, or the planets, Simon had an Etta James song stuck in his head. How bloody weird.

| Masterlist |

178 notes · View notes

exhaslo · 4 months

Note

Hiya! I see you like CEO/Mafia Miguel trope. And honey you do them so FABULOUS 🌹💐✨

So I got a little Mafia request for you!

How about: Mafia Miguel is rising in the ranks and money. He catches the word of a Mafia princess. Who she is or how she looks like is shrouded in mystery. And Miguel is determined to catch this 'princess' and maybe be her knight or greedy dragon.

Thank you ♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️

Thank you~ I'm glad you enjoy my stories!!

Ohoho, a Mafia Princess? I think I have an idea on what to do. Hehe.

Warning: Fluff, language, violence, blood, mentions of murder

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

Much like there are two sides to every coin, there are two sides of the city of Nueva York.

One side was the bright and lively city that never sleeps, the side that 90% of people knew. The other? That was the side were you reside in. The dark and bloody side where territory was all the matters and family.

Nueva York was split between different groups of mafia families. Each having their own specialty. There was an unspoken rule to not interfere with another family unless a war was to break out. Another rule, was to never interlope with another family.

Which was why you tried you best to break that rule. You were known as the Spider Mafia's Princess. Your father currently ran the family and kept your existence a secret. It frustrated you to every extent. You were not allowed to do anything.

Just be a pretty doll locked in your room.

You knew all about what your father did. The people he has killed. The drugs he let onto the streets. Everything about how your father ran the mafia sicken you. You were a Princess in name, but no one knew where you were to free you.

--------

It was just another day for Miguel. After collecting the money for his boss, Miguel proceeded to go above and beyond. From the moment Miguel entered the Spider Mafia, he knew that he wanted to rise as high up as he could get.

Miguel had already rose pretty far from when he first started, but he could get higher.

As he went to deliver the money, Miguel stopped in front of one of the main entry doors.

"Did you hear about the Princess?"

"Dude, you're going to fall for that rumor? Everyone knows that there isn't such thing as a Mafia Princess here."

Such comments were not the first time Miguel has heard of them. The more Miguel heard about this 'Mafia Princess' the more he wanted to find out about her. He just hoped that it wasn't going to be a baseless rumor.

Once the money was dropped off, Miguel was free to do this own thing until called upon. Deciding to follow the rumor, Miguel made sure to cover his tracks. After all, if this rumor was true, Miguel wouldn't want to get in trouble.

-------

Now was the perfect time to sneak out. Your father was in the middle of a meeting and your bodyguards were falling asleep. Quickly making a run for it, you dashed by the bodyguards and made your way down the private elevator.

You NEEDED freedom.

Once you were down on the ground floor, your booked it towards the exit. As you did, you had bumped into someone.

"I'm sorry!" You apologized and glanced towards the man, "Oh-"

--------

Miguel helped you up, wondering what had you in such a hurry. To his surprise, you were beautiful. Clearing his throat since he was staring for you long, Miguel let you go, but tensed as you grabbed onto his jacket.

"Please! Help me get away from here!" You begged.

"Huh?"

"Long story, just help me get away from this building!"

Miguel was confused but soon heard distant yelling. He glanced down at you once more, unable to avoid those gorgeous pleading eyes. With a heavy sigh, Miguel held your hand tightly as he led you away from this place.

So much for his hunt for the 'Mafia Princess'.

Once the two of you were far enough away, Miguel had you sit on a nearby bench. He crossed his arms and gave you a slight glare. He had so many questions for a beauty such as yourself. One of them being if you were single.

"Thank you. It's kind of a long story, but my father basically refuses to ever let me leave the condo. I'm trapped in there all the time and I just needed to leave." You briefly summarized.

"You sick?" Miguel asked, wanting to make sure he didn't make a huge mistake.

"Haha, no, no. I would tell you, but I don't think you'd be ready to hear such a thing." You gave him a bright smile.

"Dunno. You did trust a stranger to get you outta there. I could have just kidnapped you and proved your father right." Miguel said bluntly.

"Then you'd really be asking for death," You said with a chuckle, "My dear father is a scary boss."

"My boss doesn't even frighten me," Miguel smirked as he took the seat beside you, "You should be more afraid of me if anything."

"Oh? Such a handsome face has a secret?" You stood, looking around the park, "Can't be that horrible. Hey, why don't you show me around the city. I'd love to know where to get some good pizza."

"You really have no fear...or you're just a fool,"

Miguel glanced at your body, licking his lips slightly. While you maybe a fool, perhaps Miguel could still have some fun. You did ruin his little hunt, so you had to make up for it.

"Can't have that much fear when your dad runs the biggest mafia in the city," You said with a sigh.

Miguel's ears perked up. His eyes widen as he grabbed your wrist,

"Wait...You're the Mafia Princess?"

Oh, this was perfect.

"Of course you work for my dad. Let me guess, he let me escape then!" You stomped your foot, wanting to yell.

Miguel just resisted a chuckle as he watched you. A sheltered princess with no knowledge of the city. That, and you were rebellious. Perhaps this was working in Miguel's favor. Pulling you back into his embrace, Miguel just chuckled.

"This was just fate. Listen, I'll take you where ever you want to go-"

"But?"

"But I want to know more about you." Miguel thought for a moment, "And I would like to avoid any punishment for helping you escape."

"Ugh, my stupid father and his punishments! If only someone would take over-" You smiled towards Miguel, "Why don't we make ourselves a deal?"

"Oh?"

Now you caught his interest even more.

"You let me stay with you and I will help you take down my father, what do you say?"

Miguel just smiled towards your offer. He held your chin and sealed the deal with a kiss. You were gripping his jacket, but soon let go and wrapped your arms around his neck.

A foolish, but beautiful Princess.

"It's a deal," Miguel said with a hum, watching your dazed expression.

"G-Good....N-Now about that pizza," You stuttered, trying to hide your blush.

Miguel chuckled as he wrapped his arm around your waist. You were going to be his princess now. Call it greedy, but Miguel wanted to make sure that you were going to be his and his alone. What better than taking over the mafia by fucking the princess?

"By the way, what's your name?" Miguel whispered in your ear. You shuddered,

"(Y/N)"

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

I can totally see a part 2 smut for this, but that will have to be after my Hiatus.

Hope you enjoyed~~

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel spiderverse #miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara x reader #spiderman 2099 #miguel spiderman #atsv miguel #across the spiderverse #miguel x you #miguel x fem!reader

178 notes · View notes

megumiswife4 · 11 months

Text

More than just friends - Kento Nanami

Summary: You and Nanami had a great friendship, although he new you were looking for a companion who could make losing your virginity worth while; but would having him as your first be a great idea or would it ruin your guys friendship?

CW: 18+ only, Smut, fingering, slight masturbation, foreplay, penetrative sex.

WC: 4.5k

*ART WORK DOES NOT BELONG TO ME*

Being a virgin all throughout your young teenage years and into young adulthood having not yet been touched by a man. They say it's easy to be a woman, she can pick and choose who she would ideally sleep with; but in reality it was the opposite. It was even hard for you to find that one partner who could make something so intimate truly special. That’s when you met one man… Kento Nanami. One random evening at your favorite local coffee & bakery shop, it sure was a strange occurrence but needless to say it might’ve been one of the best encounters in a lifetime.

You've become such close friends with him that he even knew your deepest darkest secrets. Women around you knew who he was and were envious of the friendship you had with one another. Nanami could sense the jealousy and envy of the other women but paid no mind, you were the first woman to only feel platonically towards him and he respected that and your friendship with him. Nonetheless you both would spend day and night with one another, he would even offer to stay the night or have you stay in his penthouse at times due to you feeling a bit worried about being alone in your apartment. Nanami would often hear your scary encounters with perverted and disturbing men following you back home after a night out with friends, grocery shopping, or even just a late night walk. He was always by your side, regardless of what others had to say about the friendship.

Every week Nanami would meet up for your morning coffee date hearing the endless amounts of terrible Tinder dates; in hopes of coming across a man who would actually take you seriously, let alone sleep with you. Every single one of those men had proved you right and were just not a fit to what you were looking for in a one night stand or a potential partner. You wanted a man not a boy, especially at your bedside, one who will learn how to caress you just right, one who would treat you like a woman and not an object to smash and dash on the spot, and who will take pride in aftercare. As it being your first ever experience with a man you wanted it to be absolutely spectacular and once in a lifetime experience, but you’re just too afraid to pick the wrong man to do it with.

“Y/n you understand that these are all the wrong men right? I mean you’re on a dating app that mostly specifies for hookups that usually ends terribly.”

“Well yes, although that is what I’m looking for, I need a partner that will take sleeping with one another serious and treat me as a woman not just a quick fuck.” You scoffed in irritation.

Nanami let out a miniscule laugh, “Well it is safe to say, you haven't wasted that opportunity on a questionable man especially from Tinder.”

This topic had been ongoing for quite some time, you both knew one another well enough to talk about such things it almost seemed as if you two were dating at this point, and if it wasnt that then they would have already assumed you both would have been sleeping with each other.

“You know Nanami, you’re the only sensible man in this world who actually understands a woman and her desires.” Sipping your cup of coffee.

He leans back, one arm on the armrest, both legs crossed as he is holding his drink. “ To be honest with you, I am not one to share my personal experiences but because we are now close enough to disclose these kinds of things. I may or may not have some encounters with women myself.”

“Oh? Is that so Mr. Kento? So I'm sure you’re quite the ladies man then.” You playfully state.

“You’re not taking me seriously are you?”

“Well to be honest with you no I’m not, I mean you never even tell me how these dates even go?” You giggled.

You and Nanami began to hear a buzzing sound coming from the table, both of you checking your phones only to realize it was his, “It's a business call.” Standing up from the chair he paced back and forth speaking eloquently serious. The call soon ended as he made his way back to your table.

“I have a business meeting right now, would you mind having dinner tonight at my place? I’ll come by to pick you up after I’m off, be sure to have an overnight bag packed too.”

As he zoomed off, you were left with just yourself and your coffee.

—

It's now 5 P.M. and you’re wondering if he's off, constantly checking your stove top clock. An uncontrollably loud buzzing sound began, reaching for your phone. It appeared to be Nanami.

“I’m right outside your door, did you have your things packed like I asked you to?”

“Yes, all that was taken care of, I’ll be right out.”

Quickly opening the door, there stood Nanami towering over you. He was in his blue button up, a pair of beige dress pants, a brown belt and lastly a nice accent to the outfit; was his yellow tie that had black splattered detail. You held your bags ready to head out the door proceeding to walk ahead, you felt something similar to a brick wall hit your face.

“Who said you’d be carrying your own bags?” Nanami stated with an arched eyebrow.

You growled in annoyance, “It’s okay for me to do things by myself without help you know?”

Without hesitation he grasped hold of the bags before you could even pass through the door entirely.

“Thank you for trying, but I got it from here.” He clamored carrying your bags without a sign of struggle, if it was you, you might've made a fool out of yourself with your items at hand.

You followed his lead, locking the door behind you. He gracefully opened his passenger door wide open for you to enter the vehicle, as Nanami made his way around to the driver side after placing your luggage in the trunk; your view of him was nothing but his strong torso, and his muscular arm with his hand around the gear stick. Looking away as you catch yourself from the awe of his mere presence.

Both of you arrived at his penthouse, as he assembled your overnight bags in his room. You began to walk around curiously as if you haven’t been there more than a million times before, yet each and every time you still find it remarkable at how beautiful his sky view is from the main living room windows. Staring into the distance hearing a deep voice from behind startles you.

“It’s interesting enough that you always take a liking to that spot in particular, every time you visit me.” Nanami chuckles, removing his reading glasses placed onto the countertop.

“Back home I don't get such a beautiful view like this. Why wouldn’t I want to see this view everyday for the rest of my life?” You smiled, turning to face Nanami.

“Well If you still want to take that offer up, you’re more than welcome to end your lease at your apartment and live here with me. I have that spare room.” He stated.

“You know I can’t do that, I don’t want to feel like such a burden living in your place I…”

“You’re not a burden, I think we’ve established a great relationship and enough to know that we both feel comfortable with one another. Regardless I respect your decision, and if you decide to change your mind you know where to reach me y/n.”

Nanami’s kitchen consisted of a barstool area in the center. He offered to make a nice dinner for the both of you as you had offered the last time you spent an evening with one another. It was a beautifully medium rare steak with a buttered rosemary glaze over it, a dollop of garlic mashed potatoes as a side and sautéed asparagus as the second and final side. Your eyes widened seeing how gorgeous this entree came out, ready to stuff your face with such a delicious looking meal.

“Oh my god, this looks phenomenal Mr. Kento!” Teasing him but appreciative of his skills in the kitchen.

“I’ll only take your compliment if you finish your entire plate of food, I know you haven’t eaten all day since I’ve been at the office.” His face plastered with a serious look.

“Okay officer, my apologies.” You said sarcastically, raising both hands up signaling a truce. He couldn’t help but chuckle, hovering his fingers over his mouth. Knowing how you were, you were always getting a kick out of Nanami with your sarcasm and jokes. He never knew such a woman with a non-serious demeanor, always taking a liking for your sense of humor.

Nanami brought both plates to the small dining room near the kitchen, proceeding to pull a chair out for you to be seated as he slowly pushed you forward to be much closer to the table. You both sat across from one another enjoying the meal, you both talked away through the evening during dinner.

You both hadn’t realized the time it was, Nanami had a movie in mind for you both to watch until it was time for bed.

“Would you still like to watch a movie? It’s always our tradition to do so. But if you’re exhausted I understand.” He clamored.

“Of course! Why wouldn’t I want to miss a great cinematic experience with you? Should I get the popcorn started? Possibly a nice shot of whiskey on ice for you?” You pointed at him with a finger gun hand gesture.

Nanami couldn’t help but chuckle and nod in approval, you knew him too well. Ever since you both grew closer to one another, it progressed into both of you being able to stay at one another’s homes, endless dinner nights, to coffee dates, and lastly even for minuscule shopping dates whenever he needed a new suit for work; you were always beside him.

Nanami always had special items placed for you around his penthouse. His guest bathroom included a space with hygienic items, from specific hair and facial care items to your own special soaps; he had bought out of his own curious observation from your apartment back home. He was a detailed man, he truly was enticed at your choice of products and he took initiative to be attentive without your knowledge of what you favored and didn’t. Some days you’d prefer to sleep in your guest room and other days you’d crash in his, but of course it was normal you both were close it didn’t seem abnormal for this kind of encounter. People from the outside would have thought you both were in a romantic relationship but that was far from the truth or is it really?

Both you and Nanami plop onto his modular couch, grabbing a hold of your favorite soft plush blanket over yourself. He switched the channel onto a streaming service to get to the film you both were anticipating to watch. Nanami had great taste for each type of genre for a cinematic film, and tonight was a romance/drama movie. Surprisingly he had a niche for romance drama films but rather he was discrete about it.

As time had passed you both were on your third film, one scene in particular appeared where the main character she was struggling to find a perfect guy to have her first time with, it landed between her and her best guy friend; of course it lead to confessing their built up feelings for one another and one thing led to another and the next scene included them having an intimate moment.

You began to wonder, if having your virginity taken away by your close friend who happens to be a guy is a good idea? As your mind wandered in thoughts of Nanami being a potential sleeping partner, it was so wrong but yet it felt so right in your heart and mind. You both understand each other to another extent that no one else would get, and here you are having none other than possible sexual thoughts of this man caressing your naked flesh on his bed.

Immediately your train of thought was disrupted by none other than Nanami. “Y/n are you feeling alright?” He calmly questioned.

“Y-Yes I’m okay.” You laughed nervously. You adjusted yourself sitting much closer to him; noticing the remote lying on his leg you proceed to grab it and pausing the film right in the middle of a steamy intimate session.

“Ugh! I mean how amazing could it possibly be having your virginity lost to your friend of the opposite sex?” You claimed, rolling your eyes laughing.

“I don’t believe it would be all that bad, generally it could be a good thing just because you both entrust each other and already have a great relationship at hand.”

He had a good point, the bond is already there between two friends, the feelings and tension however isn’t as close to the surface as you would think it would. You curled your legs up from the couch, leaning on your side to face him as a single arm was placed on top of the couch as you nervously looked up at him.

He questioned, “What’s wrong?”

“Can I ask you something?” You mumbled, as he nodded for you to proceed.

“This might be a weird request but… as you know I’m still a virgin.” Lowering your head in embarrassment.

“And… actually just forget I even ask-”

“So what you’re asking of me is if I could be your first time?”

Your cheeks flushed with a shade of red, bright as a cherry. You couldn’t hold back from feeling such shame, for asking such a thing but you knew he could be your best encounter for your first time.

“As long as you are completely on board with the idea, I’ll agree to make your first time as comfortable as possible for you.”

You nodded your head in agreement in hopes that this was a good decision on your behalf.

Not long after the awkward silence you immediately felt his large hand press against your lower back, and the other on your shoulder leaning you down on the couch he was now hovering over your innocent body.

“Is this okay with you?” He questioned making sure you were okay and consented with his actions.

“Y-Yes that’s alright with me.”

You felt your heart beating fast, was it loud enough for him to hear it too? The only light that luminated throughout the living room was the tv screen, nothing else. Nanami continued to loosen his tie as he was still hovering over your body, but nothing stuck out more than those large muscular biceps. Without a single thought your hand traveled up his arm copping a feel, all this time you only ever admired his muscular build from afar but this time you couldn’t help yourself but to touch him up.

“You know I never thought I would be able to finally touch your muscular arms.” You shyly chuckled.

He couldn't help but give a small smile, “Oh, is that why I would catch a glimpse of you admiring me almost every single time we would spend time together?”

Embarrassed, you propped both hands to cover your face to prevent him from seeing you smile. He knew your tactics when you became shy, it was clear that both of you might have unresolved feelings that began to surface.

Nanami took both of your hands gently pushing them aside as he leaned in closer to your face, softly brushing your cheek.

“May I?”

You nodded, “Anything you do from here on out is okay with me Nanami.”

His lips inched closer to yours as he kissed you so softly, your hands wrapping around his neck pulling him in closer for more. His lips slowly tugged onto your lower lip, they traveled below your chin and made their way to your neck. Nothing else could have ever prepared you for that feeling that you craved more of Nanami.

“If you don't mind, I will take this to the bedroom. It wouldn't be proper for me to have your first time on a living room couch.” He kindly chuckled, scooping you into his arms.

He entered into his bedroom as he placed you gracefully onto his cold sheets, as he began to slip his dress shoes aside his bed and unbutton his shirt a tad bit more. He motioned for you to sit at the edge of his bed upright guiding you with his hand, he leaned down to kiss your lips once again grabbing your cheek caressing it pulling you in for more. His hand finally pushed you into his bed once more as he hovered over your precious body, his hands grazing over your neck down to your chest, his fingers unbuttoning your white button up as your bra and torso now exposed. His lips met between your breasts leaving wet soft kisses everywhere, your whimpers enticed him more to make the crevice between your legs ready for entry.

“P-Please N-Nanami…” You moan as you begin to move your hips, turned on by his mere presence and foreplay you tried to remove the excess clothing on your body. You wanted him more and more, your hands traveling to your breast as you cupped it in one hand as the other was trying to remove your bottoms as it exposed the hemming of your thong.

“Let me take care of you y/n, you shouldn't have to worry about anything when I am here. It is my job to pleasure you the best that I can.”

Nanami slowly removed your shirt and bottoms exposing just your undergarment and bra now, you leaned upward unbuttoning his shirt helping him remove it, as it was your time to return the favor of exposing his body. Your breathing becomes heavy as time goes on, your heart beats faster and your pussy feels wetter. Your hands grazing his chest as you bring your face closer to it leaving miniscule wet kisses making your way up to his neck.

He brought you closer to his chest as he began to unhook the bra strap as it fell gracefully, your nipples were hardened and exposed he laid you back down into the cold sheets as he kissed the crevice between both breasts as his hand softly squeezed it. It soon traveled down your stomach, hips and finally your inner thigh, he softly rubbed the outer opening of your pussy making it throb; you pressed against his hand knowing you were craving more. Nanami continued to place kisses all over your body, he traveled down leaving soft kisses on your hips down to your inner thigh. Licking your thighs kissing them as he gently rubbed his hands on your leg, squeezing your hips as if he wanted you all to himself.

“Just relax princess, everything will be alright.”

He began to come back up for more kisses, his fingers pressing into the entrance of your pussy lightly rubbing it as you began to moan. Biting your lower lip as both of your eyes met, bringing your hand up to his cheek then quickly pulling him in for a kiss. Your tongue making an entrance as he tried to match your consistency, he noticed the lips in between your legs grew wetter after each rub. Nanami smiled in between each wet kiss you both engaged in, retracting disengaged your lips from his you couldn't help but gravitated your attention to the bulge pressing against his beige dress pants.

“Take them off for me.” You moaned, biting your lip.

He gently removed his bottoms and undergarments exposing his hard-on. Reaching your hand to grab it, Nanami groaned at the touch of your hand around his cock. As you began to slowly motion it up and down you felt it harden with each stroke you gave him.

“Mmm” his deep groan was so sensual you were ready to take him on. He adjusted your body to make you feel as comfortable as possible on his bed.

“I’m ready, I need you inside me p-please” you yearned, your face flushed red as your eyes glistening and your desirable whimpers, Nanami’s cock and heart were throbbing at the thought of being inside you. Afterall you were a beautiful woman inside and out he enjoyed your friendship with him but he would have never thought that you both would be uncovering a deep desire for one another in his own bed.

“Are you sure?”

“Y-Yes I’m ready for you.”

“As you wish, just know I’m taking it easy on you if you don’t like something just tell me darling.” Rubbing his finger against your cheek, leaving a soft kiss on your forehead making you feel at ease.

Your body relaxed, Nanami began to slowly spread your legs apart as he slightly spit into his hand and began to massage his cock preparing it for entry.

“Keep your beautiful eyes on me princess, I’ll guide us the whole way.”

“Okay.” You nervously said, grabbing his shoulders.

He slowly began to make his way inside your wet throbbing pussy, you felt immense pressure against your inside walls feeling euphoric but so good. Letting out a loud moan, pulling Nanami in your arms as you wrapped around his large back, lightly digging your nails into it at every thrust his hips made into you. Nothing but groaning and whimpers filled the entire bedroom, with every kiss he gave, your moans traveled its way out of your mouth. Your hands moved up running through his hair as you craved him more and more, he took hold of your wrists and pinning them alongside your shoulders. Your anticipation grew more with each withdrawal and re-entrance of his cock.

“Go…f…faster Nanami”

“Of course beautiful.” Brushing your strands of hair to the side.

As his cock kept at a minimum pace, he engaged much more, thrusting faster and faster. Your breasts began to move erratically with every entrance he was consumed by your beauty and the way you were just submissive to him letting him take the lead.

“Goddamn” Nanami groaned, cupping a single breast leaning over to lick and softly suck on your nipples. Sweat dripping from his forehead, his hair was no longer fixed up as it was now drooping over his face. You thought to yourself, he looked so captivating it was a new look that was never seen before. He was always having his hair fixed away from his face but it was different this time… you loved it.

His pace had slowed down as he grew a bit tiresome of how his speed increased at such a fast rate. Retrieving his soaked cock from your luscious folds, he took his time penetrating that precious pussy of yours. Nanami entered inside of you slowly as you whimpered and continued to slowly withdraw it back out feeling pressure from his long hard cock filling your lower abdomen. Nanami never failed to make you feel reassured and appreciated, someone he took his time with; rubbing his thumb across your cheek leaning in for passionate tongue kissing and never ending compliments that valued you as the woman you are.

“You’re doing so good.”

“You look as beautiful as ever.”

“I can’t take my eyes off you, you’re so captivating.”

“I love being inside of you, I can’t stop fucking you.”

You wanted him more and more just as much as he craved you, you grazed your hands over his abdomen and chest planting small wet kisses, guiding him to now be underneath you as you wanted to be on top. Your legs spread apart each one on either side of nanami’s waist, you pulled his hands touching your breasts to squeeze them and leaned down for him to massage and suck your nipples. Your hands touching every crevice of his muscles from his biceps, chest, and his abdomen, your tongue traveling all over it making its way to his neck and back to his lips. Your hips began to grind against his large shaft as your juices began to cover all over it, this wasn’t over. He slowly planted you accordingly on him as he brought his hand over his cock adjusting for re-entry as you grinded one last time you felt a shiver run through your entire body. Cupping your breasts in the palm of your hands as you lean your head back moaning, you proceed to lean forward and backward movements for Nanami’s cock to slide in and out. It was smooth and felt good.

“That’s it princess, keep doing that.”

Nanami couldn’t get enough of you, he needed more. He wrapped his arms underneath yours to reach your shoulders pulling you in quickly as his pace began to fasten, he was now taking over as his cock penetrated you. His hips thrusting up and down as one of his arms reached down to feel your ass, then traveling back up running his fingers through your hair. Instantly he withdrew his cock, as he grabbed you pulling you underneath him, he promised he’d be the one to please you and do his job diligently to make your first time the best experience and the only man to make you cum. For one last time putting you in missionary, and before you both finished he slowly thrusted his cock inside of you increasing his rate of speed more than usual that you both were panting and whimpering, one hand playing with your hair as he moved it downward to rub your rosy red cheek, he chuckled knowing even at your most vulnerable and being aroused you still were indefinitely a beautiful and charismatic woman in the flesh and fully clothed. That same hand reached up to his mouth as he licked it applying a generous amount of saliva, finally reaching his fingers down to your clit as he massaged it stimulating your nerves as he continued to thrust his wet cock fully covered in your wet pussy juices.

“Keep going Nanami I feel like I’m going to cum.”

“Awe fuckkkk” he began to say, as your pussy was too good he was close to cumming with you.

Leaning your head back into his pillow moaning loud, he couldn’t get enough of how beautifully sexy it was for you to enjoy him being inside of you; being overstimulated by his wet fingers touching your clit and his wet cock covered in juices from your throbbing pussy coming in and out. One hand of Nanami’s on the headboard as the other was right beside you as he had a few more thrusts left in him, sweat was dripping from his face. Finally one big thrust as he released inside of you oozing a warm fuzzy feeling, your body shivering and covered in goosebumps from hitting your peak of the orgasm. You couldn’t help but to pull him in for one last kiss as you both breathe heavily smiling at one another.

You both laid beside one another, Nanami turned over to pull you into his tight embrace brushing your hair and holding you tightly.

“I love you…” you quietly admitted.

Nanami pulled away to take a good look at you, to your surprise he indeed returned the favor.

“I love you too, I’ve been waiting to hear that for quite some time now. I couldn’t be too sure if your feelings were the same.”

You both couldn’t help to be in one another’s embrace, your first time was unforgettable.

#kento nanami #nanami hcs #nanami headcanons #nanami x you #nanami smut #nanami x reader #nanamin #jjk nanami #smut nanami #jjk smut #smut jjk

568 notes · View notes

roosterforme · 2 years

Text

Batting Practice Part 1 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley gets roped into helping Bob coach tee ball, even though he knows nothing about kids. But he is immediately charmed by his team and one of the moms.

Warnings: Fluff, angst and swearing

Length: 3400 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female single!mom Reader

Check my masterlist for more Top Gun fun! Batting Practice masterlist.

"I could really use your help," Bob told Bradley over some drinks at the Hard Deck. "Jake wouldn't take it seriously enough, and Phoenix already volunteers at the animal shelter. Will you do it?"

Bradley tipped his pint glass against his lips and took a long drink. "Ten weeks is a long time," he told his friend.

Bob drummed his fingers against the bartop. "I need a contingency plan in case I get deployed. That's the only way the league will let me coach a team."

Bradley leaned forward on his elbow. "Bob, I don't really even know anything about tee ball. Or kids for that matter."

"You played baseball in college!" Bob reminded him with a hopeful smile. "And you were really good, right? Starting shortstop all four years?"

"You're just trying to use that against me, aren't you?" Bradley asked with a chuckle.

"Of course I am! My sister is begging me to do this, and I want to! My niece is struggling in school, but she loves sports. I think she would do better with a coach she's familiar with," Bob gushed. "Come on."

But he was still shaking his head. "It's not that I don't want to, Bob. It's just that, I don't know anything about kids!"

"Kids are simple. You treat them like their opinions matter, and they'll love you forever. At least that's how it works with Piper, my niece."

Bradley heaved a deep sigh. It wasn't like he had anything better to do with his time. He was single, work ended at 4:30 when he wasn't deployed, and he really did love baseball. It might be fun to teach a bunch of kids how to play. Hell, what did he have to lose?

"Yeah, okay."

Bob's eyes went wide behind his glasses. "Really? You'll be the co-coach of the Tiny Eagles with me?"

With a shrug and a smile, Bradley nodded his head. "Yeah, Bob. I'll be your co-coach."

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

"What do you mean you're not allowed peanut butter in the lunchroom?" you asked your son as you were making his school lunch. "You took a peanut butter and jelly sandwich on Friday!"

"That was last week, mommy. The rules have changed, and it's important to be flexible."

You really despised it when your six year old used your own words against you.

"Everett, I don't have time for this. You'll need to buy lunch today, okay? Be flexible?" you said, glancing down at your half-dressed body. You needed to be on time for work today, therefore the elementary school cafeteria food would just have to do.

Everett scrunched up his nose but said, "Okay, mommy."

"Perfect," you said, shoving the jar of peanut butter to the side and pouring two bowls of cereal. "Eat your cheerios so I can get you to school."

You inhaled your own breakfast and then dashed back up to your room to finish getting ready. Your suit with the tight pants was the only one that was clean, so you squeezed yourself into them and found a clean bra. Frank would be in the office today, and you'd gotten used to him meeting up with you around lunchtime to make out a little bit, even though it was strictly against company policy. He'd like the tight pants, you supposed.

Once you added some mascara and lip gloss to your face, you found your black heels and started back down the stairs. "Shit," you muttered, turning around again. Today was Everett's first day of tee ball practice, so you grabbed a pair of old sneakers to change into later.

You felt like a scattered mess all the time, especially since Danny, your ex-husband was almost no help with Everett. Every time you thought about him, you wanted to punch the wall, so you took a calming breath and put a smile back on your face before you entered the kitchen.

"Let's get going, sweetie. You've got tee ball after school today, so I'm packing some extra snacks."

"Yes!" Everett cheered. "I've been waiting all month for baseball to start!"

You smiled and ushered him out to your car. "Remember, it's not quite baseball, so don't get ahead of yourself, Ev. But tee ball is a good place to start."

"Yeah, I know. But it's still going to be fun."

Once you dropped him off at school, you raced to your office and tried to sneak to your desk without anyone bothering you. Thankfully you made it all the way there before Frank let himself in.

Yeah, you and he were hooking up. Yeah, you had slept over his house last weekend while Everett was with your sister. But you still didn't want him to just waltz into your office whenever he felt like it.

"Hey, baby," he whispered, walking toward your desk. "How are you?"

"I'm fine, Frank," you told him, trying to compile your spreadsheets while he kissed your cheek. "Just very busy. And Everett has practice this evening."

"When are you free to go out again?" he asked, stroking his fingers down your neck. God, it felt good to be touched like this, but Frank really wasn't your type, and he was mediocre at everything. He was mediocre at work, usually doing the bare minimum. He was a mediocre kisser. He had mediocre looks. He was probably below average in bed.

But you were a single mom who barely had time to eat, only washed her hair three times a week, and usually fell asleep about thirty minutes after Everett did every night.

"I'm not sure, Frank. I'll have to let you know." Bottom line, you'd probably schedule another date for next week when you'd be too horny again to mind that you weren't that into him. Not the best way to live your life, but what else were you supposed to do?

"You just call me, and I'll take you out anywhere you want."

What you wanted was to be able to introduce Everett to the guy you were spending time with, but Frank hated kids.

"I'll let you know. I'm just busy at the moment, so..." You let your sentence hang until he nodded and took the hint. When your door closed behind him, you got back to work. Of course you were in the middle of a phone call and existing solely on caffeine when your alarm went off to let you know you needed to go pick Everett up.

"Sounds great. I'll talk to my clients and get back to you soon," you said, ending your work call and sweeping your work into your bag.

"Shit." You'd accidentally skipped your lunch again. You ate your sandwich while you were in the car pickup line at Everett's school and then touched up your mascara and lip gloss.

"Ready, sweetie? First day of practice!"

He climbed into the car and buckled himself into his seat. "Ready!"

You just smiled as he tugged his Phillies hat lower over his forehead. You'd been taking him to Padres games as often as you could, ever since he'd become obsessed with baseball. Each time the Padres played a new team, you let Everett pick out a shirt or hat to remember the game by. For some reason that Phillies cap was his favorite.

"I hope my team colors are red and white, so they match my hat," he said, munching on a snack while you pulled into the ballpark lot.

"That would be fun. Just remember, we don't complain about things like the color of your uniform," you mumbled, snagging an empty spot next to a vintage Ford Bronco. You gave it a quick once over before you got Everett and his equipment out of the car and started to head toward the field, changing your shoes as you went.

"Are those my coaches?" Everett asked as you lugged his bat and carried your heels in one hand. "What were their names again?"

"Um, Coach Bob and Coach Bradley? I think? We'll find out in a minute," you said, but when you looked up, you saw two extremely handsome men walking toward you. They were wearing matching blue jerseys, caps and whistles, and your tummy dipped at the way the one with darker hair carried himself when he walked. He was almost strutting across the infield, and his baseball cap was on backwards.

You bit back an embarrassing sound before it could escape you, and you had to force your mouth to shut.

"Come on, mommy!"

Your attention snapped back to your son who was now headed for the bleachers. He was already changing into his cleats amongst all the other kids by the time you caught up to him.

When you glanced up toward the coaches again, the one with the backward hat was already looking at you. His head was cocked a little to one side, and he had a cute, crooked smile playing at the corner of his mouth. And you immediately wanted to disappear.

How embarrassing, being caught out like that. The blond coach with glasses blew his whistle, and the kids went into a frenzy. You quickly shoved Everett's sneakers into his bag and got your phone out. You took a seat near the other parents while Everett and the other kids all trotted out to the field.

But you could clearly hear the two women behind you whispering. "These coaches are eye candy, Tara! This season is going to be fantastic!"

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

"Here's the full schedule. And you don't have to worry about the theme days, because I already took care of all of them," Bob said, clearly trying to sound reassuring as he handed Bradley packet after packet of paperwork.

"Theme days?" Bradley asked, skimming the calendar.

"Yeah, like there's a day where the kids can wear costumes for practice. Another day where they can dress in their favorite sports shirt. A swim party. Fun stuff to keep them engaged. I already added them to the calendar," Bob said. Bradley just nodded as they made their way back across the field.

But when he looked up toward the bleachers, his eyes caught on something so pretty, he couldn't look away. You were carrying some seriously tall high heels in one hand and a tee ball bat in the other as you made your way toward the huge group of kids.

Bradley should be embarrassed. He really should. He had assured Nat that there was no way he was going to start jonesing for any of the moms. They weren't his type. He never sought them out, and he never ever dated them.

But there was no denying that you were exactly the type of woman he'd try to chat up. You were pretty; god, you were gorgeous. Your suit pants were distractingly tight, and he thought your sneakers looked cute paired with them. He was grinning when you made eye contact with him, and his smile just grew.

He watched you scramble and pull your phone out of your pocket just as Bob blew his whistle, calling the kids onto the field.

"Welcome, Tiny Eagles! I'm Coach Bob, and this is Coach Bradley! Who's excited to be here for tee ball?"

Bradley couldn't help but smile as all of the kids jumped up and down and cheered. Lots of them had cute grins with missing teeth, and Bob's niece Piper was hugging Bob's leg.

"When I point at you, tell us your name, okay?" Bob went through the group of twenty kids, and Bradley would be lucky to remember even three of their names after this first practice.

"Let's get started with some warm-ups!" Bob instructed. "Who knows how to do jumping jacks?"

All of the kids started jumping at the same time while Bradley and Bob tried to get them to count to ten. Their excitement had Bradley smiling and laughing, and at Bob's instruction, he led all the kids in a jog around the bases. When he rounded second base and then third, Bradley had the perfect view of you sitting at the bottom of the bleachers.

You were tucking your hair behind your ear, and he met your eyes again. This time you smiled back before your eyes dipped to the turf in front of you. Then you glanced up again and waved your fingers to whichever kid was yours. Bradley could imagine you waving to him that way. He could imagine you doing a lot of things he might like.

He sighed and joined Bob as he started to get the kids lined up for practice catching. Bradley adjusted gloves on a few kids' hands, and then he knelt down in front of an adorable little boy who had untied laces.

"Hey kiddo, what's your name again?"

"Everett!"

"Right. Everett. Can I re-tie your laces for you? Make them nice and tight? Don't want any injuries so early in the season."

When the boy nodded, Bradley started to tie up the cleats for him.

"I like your Phillies cap. That's my favorite team," Bradley said with a smile.

He watched the kid's eyes grow wide. "Really? It's my favorite team, too! My mom took me to see them play the Padres last year, and they won!"

"Oh yeah? Your mom sounds cool."

He nodded vigorously. "My mom is so fun. She doesn't really know stuff about baseball, but she took me to a bunch of games to see different teams last summer."

Bradley was grinning as he was about to stand. "Which one's your mom?"

Everett turned to look over his shoulder, and Bradley followed his extended finger to where you were sitting. "Over there. In the suit."

Bradley watched you uncross and recross your legs and play with your hair before you glanced up from your phone and found him and Everett both looking at you. A hesitant smile found your lips and you waved again. This time Everett and Bradley both waved back.

"Holy cow, kid. Your dad's lucky."

Everett just gave Bradley a confused look. "Oh, no. He's not fun like her. He doesn't take me anywhere."

"Ready?" Bob called to where Bradley and Everett were chatting. With one final look at you, Bradley stood and led Everett by the hand to where the kids were all lined up along the first base line.

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

So that was Coach Bradley. You didn't seem capable of keeping your eyes off him. Your phone kept buzzing with work emails that you kept ignoring. Any time Everett wasn't engaged in the practice, your gaze drifted to Coach Bradley, his backward hat, and his snug shorts.

The other moms and nannies were all abuzz over the cute coaches, and you were silently agreeing with everything they said.

"They both must be at least six foot two."

"I wonder if they are single. I don't see any rings. God, I hope they are single."

"I'd let Coach Bradley bring his whistle to bed."

When practice ended, you were flushed and warm as you started to gather up Everett's bag. He came running over to you with his arms outstretched for a hug.

"Guess what! Coach Bradley likes the Phillies!"

You laughed as you caught him for a hug. "Does he really?" you asked, glancing to see that all of the moms had swarmed around both of the coaches.

"Yeah! It's his favorite team!"

"Did you have fun then? Tee ball is a success, and you want to come back on Thursday?"

"Yes!"

"Love to hear that. Let's get packed up and head home for dinner."

But Coach Bradley was looking at you again as you tossed Everett's mitt and cleats into his bag. And when you began to turn to head back to your car, he came jogging over to you.

"Hi," he said with a smile. "I didn't get to introduce myself before. I'm Bradley."

He held out his big hand to you, but you felt like you were moving in slow motion now. His voice was so deep and raspy, and his hand was big and calloused. He was so tall, standing right in front of you and smelling like sweat and spicy deodorant. And you didn't even want to get started on his brown eyes and his mustache. You were turned on enough that you feared you might squeak instead of actually speaking, but you did manage to open your mouth and tell him your name as you slipped your hand into his.

"It's nice to meet you," he replied, and your tummy dipped again. "Everett told me you took him to see the Phillies play."

"I did. Last summer. He's baseball obsessed." You were still gently shaking his hand, but he wasn't letting go yet.

"He's a fun kid. Happy he's on my team."

"He likes you already," you said with a smile, and as your hand left his, you missed his warmth right away.

Suddenly Everett popped up next to you. "I'm hungry."

You kissed his forehead and said, "I have snacks for you in the car. And I'll make dinner as soon as we get home. Can you thank your coaches?"

Everett smiled and gave Bradley a high five when he held his hand up. "Thanks Coach Bradley," he said before running off toward Coach Bob.

You went to grab the equipment bag off of the bench, but Bradley reached for it too. "If you're heading out, I could walk up with you." You nodded and let him take the bag as Everett ran back over.

As you scooped up your heels and led the way to your car, you listened to your son ask his coach a string of questions.

"Are we going to do batting on Thursday? What if it rains? Do we get a rain delay? Have you ever won coach of the year? How long have you been a Phillies fan?"

You were just about to tell Everett to chill, but Bradley started to answer all of the questions in stride.

"We are definitely going to have batting practice on Thursday. I'm pretty sure we will just cancel practice if it rains. You don't want your mom to have to sit on a bench in the rain while you have all the fun and get muddy, do you?"

Everett just laughed and shook his head.

Bradley continued. "This is my first time coaching, so no awards yet. And I've been a Phillies fan since I was about your age."

"How old are you now?" Everett asked.

"That's not nice to ask adults, Ev," you said, tossing Bradley an apologetic look.

"What? I just want to know if he's the same age as you," Everett replied. Then he turned to Bradley and said, "My mom is thirty three."

"Everett!"

But Bradley was just laughing. "How about a math problem. What's thirty three plus three?" he asked, but he was still smiling at you as he adjusted his baseball cap.

"Thirty six!" Everett said as you all reached your car.

"That's how old I am," Bradley informed him with a smirk. "And you're very good at math."

"Mom! He's your age!"

"That's enough, Ev," you said, ushering him into the back seat. You took the bag from Bradley and tossed in on the backseat as well.

You turned to Bradley and tucked your hair behind your ear. "Thanks for walking us up. And sorry about the interrogation."

"I don't mind," he said, leaning in closer to you so he could see Everett, and making your breath hitch in the process. "See you on Thursday, kiddo?" he asked Everett, and his neck was right next to your face. He smelled so good.

"See you on Thursday, Coach!"

Bradley opened the driver's door for you, and as you thanked him and slid past, you realized you were more attracted to him after less than an hour in his presence than you were to Frank.

"See you on Thursday," he said before gently closing your door.

As you backed out of your parking spot, you watched him toss some of his gear and his hat into the vintage Bronco. He ran his hand through his hair and waved to Everett who was waving out the window.

"Coach Bradley is so cool."

"I'm glad you liked him," you replied, and you watched him in your side view mirror as he started unbuttoning his jersey. You swallowed hard. "I liked him, too."

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

He's here! He's really here! And I am excited! I hope you liked this first part! Thanks to @beyondthesefourwalls and thanks to@mak-32 for the gorgeous banner for this fic!

PART 2

@hotch-meeeeeuppppp

@swthxrry

@chassy21

@yaboid19

@solacestyles

@avoirlecoupdefoudre

@daisyhollyxox

@callsigndiamond

@harper1666

@throwinsauce

@beebslebobs

@awesomebooklover17

@wintercap89

@whosyourgnomie4

@rosesinmars

@blog-name6996

@bcon24

@wishfulwithwine

@backinwonderl4nd

@monte-carlando

@tetragonia

@gingerbreadandpaper

@emptyloverofmine

@apparently-sunshine

@chaoticassidy

@missmirandafe

@topgunbb

@changlingkhat

@sugarcoated-lame

@callsign-jupiter

@avada-kedavra-bitch-187

@katiebby04

@marantha

@averyhotchner

@abaker74

@andycanbeemotional

@heli991113

@k-k0129

@noz4a2

@tallyovie

@shanimallina87

@starlightstories

@teddyluvs2sing

@little-wiseone

@ccbb2222

@lilyevanswhore

@o-the-o-grim-o-reaper-o

@xoxabs88xox

#bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #rooster x you #rooster fanfic #rooster x female reader #rooster x reader #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw x female reader #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw fic #rooster bradshaw x female reader #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick fanfiction #bradley rooster x reader

2K notes · View notes