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hoshifighting · 2 months

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Arranged Marriage

Synopsis: Where you and Minghao parents had this grand scheme to merge their companies by marrying you off, thinking it'd be a brilliant business move. Determined to stake your claim and keep your marriage intact, your make a bold move during a business party— planting a lipstick-stained kiss on Minghao's lips and yanking him by his tie, leaving no doubt that he's yours and yours alone.

Word Count: 5.5k

Warnings: Smut, throat fucking, blowjob, fingering, penetrative sex, public make out, jealous kiss, angst, forced marriage, mentions of diets.

You're standing there in this fancy white dress, all sparkly and shiny, making your way down the aisle to where Minghao's waiting. He's looking all sharp in his suit, with his hair on point and a little smirk on his face. But as you're walking towards him, you can't help but remember the last time you two really talked was at some boring company event.

Now here you are, about to say your vows like you actually mean them. But deep down, you know it's all just a bunch of lies. You and Minghao both know it. It's all for show, to make your parents' company look good. And the worst part is, everyone at this big fancy wedding knows it too.

The party's huge, like a wedding and a business conference all mashed together. People you've never seen before are milling around, probably part of some shady business deal your parents cooked up. It's like this whole thing isn't even about love or unity anymore. It's just one big networking event disguised as a wedding.

But you go through the motions anyway, smiling and nodding like everything's perfect. You exchange vows that are as fake as the smiles plastered on both of your faces. And as the night goes on, you can't shake the feeling that this whole thing is just a sham. A pretty, expensive sham, but a sham nonetheless.

You watch as people schmooze and mingle, making deals and connections left and right. And you can't help but wonder if this is what your future holds too. A life of pretending, of smiling for the cameras while behind closed doors, it's all just business as usual.

But for now, you paste on your best fake smile and dance the night away, pretending that everything's okay. Because that's what you do when you're part of a family like yours. You put on a show, no matter what's really going on behind the scenes.

You're feeling suffocated by the crowd inside, like the tightness around your waist is almost causing claustrophobia. So you slip away to the backyard, sneaking a slice of cake from the waiters. Your mom had you on some ridiculous diet for a whole week leading up to this wedding, all so you could look "good" in your dress.

You plop down on a wooden bench, the dress spreading out in a big poof around you. Just as you're about to take a much-needed bite of cake, you're interrupted by a voice.

"Why isn't the bride inside enjoying her own party?" The voice belongs to Minghao, hands in his pockets as he stands there, looking at you.

You scoff, shooting him a look. "I'm sure no one's noticed. They're all too busy discussing the stock market or whatever." Your tone is sharp, the underlying tension between you and Minghao palpable.

Minghao snorts, clearly not impressed by your response. "Yeah, well, maybe if you spent less time worrying about your parents' company and more time actually enjoying life, you wouldn't be stuck in this mess."

You bristle at his comment, feeling a surge of anger rising within you. "Oh please, like you have any room to talk. Last time I checked, you were just as tangled up in all of this as I am."

Minghao's expression darkens, and for a moment, you worry you've gone too far.

With that, he turns and walks away, leaving you alone with your thoughts and a half-eaten slice of wedding cake. You watch him go, feeling a mix of frustration and something else you can't quite name. Maybe it's just the champagne talking, but for a brief moment, you can't help but wonder what life would be like if you weren't tied down by expectations and obligations.

You stare at Minghao, disbelief written all over your face as you take in the sight of the one hotel room your parents booked for the both of you. A single queen-sized bed sits in the center of the room, effectively splitting the space into two halves. You shoot a glance at Minghao, and from the look in his eyes, you can tell he's just as shocked as you are.

The tension between you is palpable as you both stand there, sharing silent but deadly gazes. Finally, you break the silence, your voice dripping with sarcasm. "Well, isn't this just perfect? Our parents booking us one room to 'get used' to each other. As if this whole shit wasn't enough already."

Minghao lets out a scoff, shaking his head in disbelief. "Yeah, because nothing says 'happily ever after' like forcing two strangers to share a bed on their wedding night."

You bite back a retort, opting instead for a more diplomatic approach. "Look, I think it's only fair that I take the bed and you can sleep on the couch."

Minghao raises an eyebrow, his expression incredulous. "And why is that?" he asks, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

You roll your eyes, feeling irritation bubbling up inside you. "Because I'm the bride, for one," you retort, "and two, I've been on my feet all night, walking around in a dress that weighs a ton and heels that could rival skyscrapers. I think I deserve a decent night's sleep."

Minghao lets out a short, humorless laugh. "Oh, please. Do you even know how exhausting it is to be the groom? I've been dealing with people all night, pretending to be someone I'm not, just like you."

You narrow your eyes at him, crossing your arms defiantly. "Fine," you say, a smirk playing at the corners of your lips, "then let's settle this once and for all. Who's more tired: the bride who's been carrying around twelve kilograms of dress and heels all night, or the groom who's been putting on a show for hours on end?"

Minghao looks at you for a moment, the corner of his mouth twitching as if he's trying not to smile. But then he shakes his head, a look of resignation crossing his face. "You win," he says, finally relenting, "you can have the bed."

You smirk triumphantly, feeling a small sense of victory despite the absurdity of the situation. And as you crawl into bed, pulling the covers up to your chin.

The next day rolls around, and before you even have a chance to properly wake up, you're thrown into a meeting. Brunch with both families sounds nice in theory, but when Minghao's dad starts putting papers on the table and declaring, "Let's get to what matters," you realize this isn't going to be a typical family gathering.

You try to maintain a facade of composure, but the discomfort gnaws at you like a persistent itch. So you do what you've gotten used to doing – you look down, avoiding eye contact with anyone in the room.

Minghao notices immediately, and you can feel his gaze burning into the side of your face. His cheeks flush with embarrassment from his father's directness, but you can't bring yourself to look up and meet his eyes. The weight of expectation hangs heavy in the air, and you can practically taste the tension swirling around the table.

As Minghao's dad starts talking about business deals and partnerships, you try to focus on the sound of his voice rather than the sinking feeling in your stomach. But no matter how hard you try to block it out, you can't shake the feeling that you're just a pawn in someone else's game – a game you never asked to play.

You steal a glance at Minghao, but his expression is unreadable, his mask firmly in place. And in that moment, you realize just how alone you really are in this world of high-stakes deals and empty promises.

You're lounging on the couch, the TV blaring in the background, but your mind is miles away. The penthouse feels emptier than ever, despite being filled with all the trappings of luxury. You and Minghao live under the same roof, yet it feels like you might as well be living on opposite ends of the earth. Separate rooms, separate lives, with only a perfunctory "good morning" or "good night" exchanged between you.

The loneliness weighs heavy on your chest, suffocating you with its presence. You long for something more, something real, but it feels like an impossible dream in this gilded cage you've found yourself trapped in.

You're lost in the numbing glow of the television when your phone buzzes with a notification. It's Minghao, informing you of a press conference he's scheduled for later that night. You furrow your brow, puzzled by the sudden announcement.

But it's his last message from the previous night that catches your attention. "Can you at least put on your best smile tonight?" he'd asked, a request that feels more like a demand. And you can't help but feel a pang of frustration at his presumption.

You make your way to his room, finding him hunched over his computer, the glow of the screen casting harsh shadows across his face. You lean against the doorframe, crossing your arms as you watch him for a moment before speaking up.

"What do you mean by that?" you ask, your voice tinged with a hint of annoyance. "Put on my best smile? What's that supposed to mean?"

Minghao looks up from his computer, his expression unreadable. "It means exactly what it sounds like," he replies coolly, his tone clipped. "We both know how important appearances are in our world. So why not make an effort for once?"

You roll your eyes, feeling the anger bubbling up inside you. "I think you mean that you want me to play the dutiful wife once again, to plaster on a fake smile and pretend like everything's fine," you snap, the bitterness seeping into your words.

Minghao's jaw tightens, and for a moment, it looks like he's about to argue back. But then he sighs and runs a hand through his hair, looking suddenly tired and defeated. "Look, I know this isn't what either of us wanted," he says, his voice softer now, tinged with regret. "But it's what we have to do. For our families, for the company."

You scoff, shaking your head in disbelief. "Is that really all that matters to you? The company? "But fine," you say through clenched teeth, pushing yourself away from the doorframe. "I'll put on my best smile tonight. But don't expect me to enjoy it."

You sit in the backseat of the chauffeur-driven car, your gaze fixed on the passing landscape outside the window. The skyscrapers blur into a haze of steel and glass, a stark contrast to the turmoil swirling inside your mind.

Minghao breaks the silence with a casual remark, his tone tinged with amusement. "You don't look like someone who agreed to the terms of our agreement," he observes, a hint of sarcasm in his voice.

You let out a frustrated huff, tearing your eyes away from the window to glare at him. "Yeah, well, maybe I need some time before I can fully commit to this whole acting profession," you retort, your words dripping with bitterness.

Minghao presses his lips together, trying to suppress a laugh at your expense. The corners of his mouth twitch with amusement, but he manages to keep his expression neutral as he looks away, pretending to be absorbed in the passing scenery.

You bristle at his reaction, feeling a surge of indignation coursing through you. "What's so funny?" you demand, your voice sharp with irritation.

Minghao shakes his head, a faint smile playing at the corners of his lips. "Nothing," he replies casually, his tone disarmingly nonchalant. "I mean, take all the time you need… Just try not to look too pitiful when we walk through those doors."

You roll your eyes, crossing your arms defensively over your chest. "Thanks for the vote of confidence."

As the chauffeur stops and opens the door for you, signaling your arrival at the event, Minghao's voice cuts through the silence.

"Hand," he says simply, holding out his hand towards you.

You raise an eyebrow, shooting him a skeptical look. "Excuse me?" you reply, not quite sure you heard him correctly.

Minghao's lips twitch into a smirk as he repeats himself, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes. "I said, hand," he repeats, his tone playful yet insistent.

You fight the urge to roll your eyes at his audacity, but begrudgingly, you reach out and grab his hand, almost aggressively. His grin widens as he intertwines his fingers with yours, the touch surprisingly delicate despite the underlying tension between you.

As you and Minghao step into the event, hand in hand, you can feel the weight of your parents' surprised stares on you. Their eyebrows shoot up in disbelief at the sight of you two holding hands, a rare display of unity between the two families.

Minghao squeezes your hand gently, a small smirk playing on his lips as he catches your parents' reaction. "See?" he murmurs softly, leaning in close to you. "It's easy. A little thing like this makes them happy."

You can't help but feel a surge of resentment bubbling up inside you at his words. Easy for him to say, you think bitterly. He's always been the one who effortlessly falls into line, who knows exactly how to play the game to get what he wants.

But despite your inner turmoil, you force a tight smile and nod in agreement, not wanting to cause a scene in front of your parents. "Yeah, easy," you echo, your voice strained as you try to keep up the facade.

As the long-winded speeches from the ambassadors drone on, you find yourself sinking deeper into your chair, exhaustion weighing heavily on your shoulders. Minghao leans in close, his voice a soft whisper against your ear as he asks if you want something from the bar. You shake your head, declining his offer with a tired sigh.

He nods in understanding and excuses himself, disappearing into the crowd for a moment. But as the minutes drag on and the speech finally reaches its conclusion, Minghao still hasn't returned. Your eyes scan the room, searching for any sign of him, and that's when you spot her – a woman leaning in close to him, her body language oozing with flirtation.

Your stomach churns with a mix of anger and disbelief. What does she think she's doing? That's your husband she's flirting with, for crying out loud. You glance down at your wedding ring, then back at Minghao, then down at your ring again, the weight of it heavy on your finger.

You can feel the heat rising in your cheeks as you stand up from the table, your movements cautious as you make your way over to them. Fuck, you hate that you're doing this right now, but you can't just sit idly by while some random woman tries to make a move on your husband.

Minghao's eyes widen in surprise as he catches sight of your determined gaze, and for a brief moment, you almost feel guilty for interrupting. But then you remember who you are – his wife – and the guilt fades away, replaced by a steely resolve.

"I have a wife," Minghao's voice cuts through the air, firm and unwavering, as you approach him and the woman who's been flirting with him. His words send a jolt of surprise through you, momentarily halting your steps.

But before you can even react, Minghao continues, his tone tinged with irritation, "And she's storming over here, so please, just leave me alone."

"Hi, Hao," you greet Minghao as you finally reach him, unable to hide the hint of irritation in your voice. "You took a long time. What happened?"

Minghao's eyes widen slightly at your abrupt approach, and he stammers for a moment before the woman beside him interjects, "Oh, she's your friend?"

Minghao's response is immediate and almost defensive. "No, I don't know her," he says quickly, his tone betraying his discomfort.

You can't help but suppress a smirk at his awkwardness, feeling a small surge of satisfaction at seeing him squirm. "Nice to meet you," you say smoothly, extending your hand to the woman. "I'm Mrs. Xu."

The woman's eyes widen in surprise as she takes your hand, clearly caught off guard by your assertive introduction. "Oh, um, nice to meet you too," she replies, her voice slightly shaky.

You turn your attention back to Minghao, noting the relief in his eyes as you come to his "rescue." Poor Minghao, you think to yourself, feeling a twinge of sympathy for him despite your earlier annoyance. He clearly didn't know how to handle the situation, and the sight of you coming to his aid seems to help him breathe a little easier.

The woman walks away, leaving you and Minghao standing there in the aftermath of the awkward encounter. You turn to him, your expression a mix of frustration and concern.

"Come on, Minghao," you begin, your voice low but firm. "You need to know how to handle situations like that. What if people who know our family saw that? It could cause all sorts of rumors and complications."

Minghao's jaw tightens as he meets your gaze, a flicker of defensiveness in his eyes. "I didn't ask for her to approach me," he retorts, his tone defensive. "I told her I have a wife. What more do you want from me?"

You let out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through your hair as you try to keep your temper in check. "I just want you to be more aware of how your actions reflect on both of us," you reply, your voice tinged with exasperation. "We're married, Minghao. That means we have to think about each other's reputations and how our behavior affects them."

Minghao's expression softens slightly at your words, but there's still a stubborn set to his jaw as he crosses his arms over his chest. "I know that," he says, his voice quieter now, more subdued. "But sometimes things happen, and I can't control them."

You shake your head, feeling a surge of frustration rising within you. "That's not an excuse, Minghao," you say firmly. "We both have to do better if we want this marriage to work. We have to be a team."

Minghao's lips twitch into a smirk of his own, a challenge flashing in his eyes as he steps closer to you. "Oh, is that so, Mrs. Xu?" he replies, his voice dripping with mock innocence. "And what exactly would it take for me to earn back the privilege of being called by my first name?"

You roll your eyes, unable to suppress a laugh at his cheekiness. "Maybe if you stopped getting yourself into awkward situations with random women at parties," you shoot back, unable to resist the opportunity for a playful jab.

Minghao feigns offense, placing a hand over his heart in mock hurt. "Hey now, that wasn't entirely my fault," he protests, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. "Besides, you were the one who came to my rescue, remember?"

Minghao's playful grin falters as you shoot him a pointed look, hands firmly planted on your hips. "Am I wrong now? What should I do then?" you challenge, your tone laced with frustration.

He shrugs, his expression sheepish as he searches for an answer. "You need to make them know I'm your husband," he suggests vaguely, a glimmer of uncertainty in his eyes.

You narrow your gaze, a surge of determination coursing through you as you follow his line of sight to the woman who had been eyeing him earlier. She's still watching him, her gaze lingering a little too long for your liking.

"Fine then," you declare, your jaw set in determination. Without another word, you reach out and grab Minghao by the collar of his shirt, pulling him closer to you. Before he can protest, you press your lips to his in a firm, possessive kiss.

For a moment, Minghao freezes, his hands hovering uncertainly in the air. But then, as if realizing what's happening, he responds eagerly, his hands finding your waist as he pulls you closer, his fingers tangling in your hair as the kiss deepens.

You trail kisses along his neck, feeling a low hum of satisfaction reverberate through him. His hands tighten around your waist, pulling you closer as you continue to explore the sensitive skin of his neck with your lips.

When you pull back slightly, his eyes meet yours, a hint of mischief dancing in their depths. You reach up and gently tug on his bottom lip, a silent invitation for him to surrender completely to the passion between you.

Minghao's lips part in response, his eyes darkening with desire as he leans in to capture your mouth in another searing kiss. You can feel the heat of his body against yours, the intensity of the moment threatening to consume you both.

As you finally break the kiss, your lips swollen and tingling with the taste of him, you look at his face, satisfied with your handiwork. His lips, jaw, and neck are adorned with smudges of your red lipstick, a visible testament that being arranged or not, he is your husband.

With a mischievous glint in your eyes, you reach out and grab Minghao by the tie, tugging him gently but firmly in the direction of the exit. His eyebrows shoot up in surprise at your sudden assertiveness, but he follows your lead without hesitation.

As you walk through the party, you make no effort to hide the fact that you're leading Minghao out by his tie. You want everyone to see, especially that woman who dared to flirt with him earlier. With each step, you feel a surge of satisfaction knowing that you're marking your territory, making it abundantly clear to anyone watching that Minghao belongs to you.

People turn to look as you pass by, their curious glances met with a confident smile from you and a sheepish grin from Minghao. You hold your head high, your grip on his tie unwavering as you guide him through the crowd.

Finally, you reach the exit, and with one last glance around the room, you pull Minghao outside, the cool night air washing over you both. Alone at last, you turn to him with a victorious smirk.

"Well, that was fun," you say, a hint of laughter in your voice as you release his tie. "But I think we've made our point. Shall we get out of here?"

Minghao chuckles, shaking his head in amusement as he takes your hand in his. "Absolutely," he replies, a warmth in his eyes as he looks at you. "Anywhere you want to go, Mrs. Xu."

As soon as you step through the door of your home, you're wrapped up in a frenzy of passionate kisses with Minghao. Clothes, shoes, and his tie fly off haphazardly as you stumble towards the nearest surface, unable to keep your hands off each other.

Between kisses, Minghao pulls back slightly, his lips brushing against your neck as he speaks. "I didn't know you were that jealous," he murmurs, a hint of amusement in his voice.

You hiss in response, your breath catching in your throat as his lips trail along your skin. "I wasn't jealous," you protest, your voice tinged with frustration. "I was just...rescuing you, you bastard!"

Minghao laughs at your outburst, the sound sending shivers down your spine. "Hmm, just like a predator," he teases, his hands roaming over your body with a newfound confidence.

You scoff at his comment, a smirk playing at the corners of your lips. "You've seen nothing yet," you reply, meeting his gaze with a challenge in your eyes.

Minghao's eyes light up with excitement as he looks at you, a playful glint in his eyes. "Yeah?" he asks, his voice low and husky.

"Yeah," you confirm with a smirk, pulling him in for another kiss.

But then, his hand moves to the top of your head, gently guiding you downwards until your knees find the ground. You look up at him with a mixture of desire and anticipation, your breath coming in shallow gasps as you eagerly await his next move.

With a shaky breath, Minghao pulls himself free from his pants, his cock standing proudly before you. You wrap your hand around it, feeling the heat and hardness of him beneath your touch. A wicked grin plays at your lips as you tap the tip of his cock against your face, biting your lip in anticipation.

Minghao lets out a shaky moan at the provocative sight before him, his eyes dark with desire as he watches you. "Fuck, you're so damn sexy," he groans, his voice rough with need. "You know exactly what you're doing to me, don't you?"

You smirk up at him, your hand still wrapped around his cock as you tease him with your lips. "Mmm, maybe," you purr, your voice dripping with seduction. "But I want to hear you say it. Tell me how much you want me, Minghao."

His breath hitches as he meets your gaze, his fingers tangling in your hair as he guides you closer to him. "I want you more than anything," he confesses, his voice thick with desire. "I need you, baby. Please, show me how much you want me too."

You eagerly lower your mouth onto Minghao's throbbing cock, sucking greedily as you take him deeper and deeper into your mouth. You can feel him thrusting his hips, the need for more driving him to move against you.

Your hands slide down to his thighs, giving him the freedom to move as he pleases. His fingers tangle in your hair, guiding your movements as he sets the pace, his hips rocking against you in a rhythm of his own making.

As you take him deeper, you close your eyes, relaxing your jaw to accommodate his length. Minghao's voice breaks through the haze of pleasure, his words a gentle reminder of his concern for your well-being.

"Tap if you need to breathe," he murmurs, his hand tightening in your ponytail as he continues to move his hips.

You press your hand against his thigh in affirmation, letting him know that you're okay as you continue to take him deeper, your throat working to accommodate his length. Minghao lets out a low groan of pleasure, his hips moving in tandem with your movements as you both chase the pinnacle of ecstasy.

Between thrusts, Minghao's voice fills the air with a husky whisper. "God, you feel so fucking good," he moans, his words driving you to take him even deeper. "You're amazing, baby. Just keep going, just like that."

As Minghao's cock throbs in your mouth, you feel a surge of pleasure coursing through you, your senses overwhelmed by the intensity of the moment. Drool drips from your chin, a testament to your eagerness and arousal, as you continue to take him deeper, your mouth working tirelessly to please him.

With each throb of his cock, you can feel the tension building, the heat of his arousal radiating through you. Your eyes roll back in your head, lost in a haze of pleasure as you surrender yourself completely to the ecstasy of the moment.

And as Minghao's cock pulses in your mouth, you know that you've pushed him to the edge, his release imminent. With one final throb, he cries out your name, his body tensing as he spills his cum into your waiting mouth.

You swallow eagerly, savoring the taste of him. You moan softly as Minghao's lips meet yours again, the taste of him still lingering on your tongue, and he slowly guides you towards his room.

As you fall onto the bed, Minghao's fingers trace lazy patterns along your inner thighs, making you squirm beneath his touch, unable to hide your arousal as he gazes down at you with dark, hungry eyes.

"You're so wet…" he murmurs, his voice thick with desire as he continues to tease you with his fingers.

Minghao's lips curl into a smug grin as his fingers trailing lower until they reach the damp fabric of your panties. With agonizing slowness, he begins to peel them away, revealing your glistening folds to his hungry gaze.

"Tell me what you want, baby" he whispers, his voice a low growl in your ear as he leans in close. "Tell me how you want me to make you feel."

You arch your back, aching for his touch as you meet his gaze with a sultry smirk. "I want your fingers inside me, Minghao" you breathe, your voice dripping with desire. "I want you to make me come so fucking hard"

Minghao's eyes darken with lust as he hears your words, his fingers finding their way to your slick entrance. With a wicked grin, he plunges his slender fingers deep inside you, his touch sending sparks of pleasure shooting through your body.

And then, just when you think you can't take any more, he finds it – that deep spot that sends electric jolts shooting through you. Your pussy clenches around his fingers in response, a desperate attempt to hold your orgasm.

But Minghao isn't finished yet. With a wicked grin, he leans in close, his hot breath ghosting over your ear as he whispers his intentions. "You're not going to cum yet," he murmurs. "Let me hit that spot with my cock, then you can cream around it as much as you want."

Your breath catches in your throat at his words, with the promise of what's going to come. With a nod of agreement, you bite your lip in anticipation, eager for the moment when Minghao will fuck you with his cock.

As Minghao positions himself above you, his gaze locked with yours in a silent promise of pleasure to come, you sneak a peek at his cock. It's long, with bulging veins and dripping with pre-cum, making it clear he's rock hard and ready to go. The contrast with his slender body just makes it look even bigger.

Before you can even think of a response, Minghao speaks up, his voice low and husky. "You ready for me, baby?" he asks, his eyes smoldering with desire.

You open your mouth to reply, but before you can get a word out, his cock is stretching you out, leaving you breathless and speechless as he fills you completely.

As soon as Minghao finds your g'spot, your pussy immediately tightens around him, milking him with such intensity that he has to hold himself back from coming right then and there. His pretty moans only serve to heighten your own arousal, making it even harder for you to hold back your impending orgasm.

"Fuck, you're so tight," he groans, his voice strained with pleasure as he tries to control himself. He hopes that you'll stop clenching, but as soon as he hits that spot again, he hisses in response, the sensation driving him wild.

Realizing that he's in danger of cumming too early, Minghao decides to focus on fucking you in just the right way, hitting that spot with precision and intensity. He squirms, desperate for you to climax first, knowing that your pleasure will only fuel his own.

With each thrust, each movement, the pleasure builds between you, reaching a fever pitch that threatens to consume you both. Minghao's hips move in a steady rhythm, his cock driving deeper and deeper into you with each thrust, his own pleasure mounting with each passing second.

And then, finally, it happens. You reach the peak of ecstasy, your body shaking with the force of your orgasm as pleasure washes over you in relentless waves. Your pussy clenches around Minghao's cock, milking him for all he's worth as he loses control, his own release crashing over him in a tidal wave of pleasure.

With a tired groan, Minghao collapses beside you, his body spent from the intensity of your shared passion. He turns to you with a lazy smile, his eyes twinkling with satisfaction.

"If I'd known all it took to get you to kiss me was making you jealous, I would've done it ages ago," he teases, his voice laced with amusement.

You roll your eyes, a playful smirk tugging at the corners of your lips. "I wasn't jealous," you protest, crossing your arms over your chest.

Minghao raises an eyebrow, his expression incredulous. "Imagine if you were then" he scoffs, his tone teasing. "I don't think we'd be here right now if you weren't just a little bit jealous."

You huff in mock indignation, but deep down, you know he's right.

ou nudge Minghao playfully, a smile dancing on your lips. "Well, lucky for you, a little jealousy was all it took," you quip, teasing him.

He chuckles softly, his eyes sparkling as he gazes at you. "I guess I'll have to remember that for next time," he replies, his voice tinged with amusement.

You laugh, shaking your head in mock exasperation. "Oh, so there's going to be a next time now?" you tease, raising an eyebrow.

Minghao grins, leaning in closer to you. "Count on it," he murmurs, his voice low and husky as he brushes his lips against yours.

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abibliophobiaa · 9 months

Text

Summary: You’ve never been one for love. Especially after your last round with it. Halloween rolls around and in comes Eddie Munson. He’s only in town for a couple days, you’re looking for no strings, and chances are you’ll never see him again anyway.

Easy, right?

That is, until you end up with an unexpected party favor.

mini series masterlist

next chapter

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warnings: alcohol; smut; unprotected p in v; unplanned pregnancy and associated symptoms; major miscommunication. eddie munson x afab!reader(7k words)

——

“You’ve been staring around for hours. No one is catching your eye? Not even slightly? You’re not doing brain surgery, you’re just trying to get your toes wet.”

You knew this. But the music had been too loud, the room too heated, your body tucked away against the bar as you sat beside your best friend, sipping on a watery margarita that the ice had long since dissolved into.

All around you people bobbed and swayed to ‘Monster Mash.’ Cliche by all means, and yet it felt fitting when you appraised the crowd once more and noted the mummy dancing with his zombified partner. Further out you caught a werewolf in a particularly compromising position with a vampire, and a group of clowns crowded together hosting what looked to be a meeting.

“What about that Westley guy?”

Right — the one everyone had been talking about all night. The man who had the nerve to dress up as the direct counterpart to your own costume. With a huff, you hiked your leg up, crossing one over the other against the stool. The red dress around you shifted and moved, fingers reaching to adjust the belt around your waist.

“I haven’t seen him.” You shrugged, taking another sip of your drink. “For all I know, he doesn’t exist.”

Micah glanced about the room once again, her makeshift halo wobbling on her head. Somewhere in the distance her boyfriend, Jeremiah, was invested in a deeply riveting conversation about football with some of his friends from college. All of which had dressed in their old football jerseys, dark lines drawn haphazardly under eyes, helmets covering heads. She lingered on him for a moment, and then glanced further over your shoulder, lips tugging upward into a devilish grin. Oddly fitting for the girl dressed as an angel.

“Actually, he’s right there.”

Gravity sent your heart tumbling into your gut. Silly, when you’d thought about it. Just because he’d worn a costume from one of your comfort movies didn’t mean he’d be anything special. Multiple pirates, doctors, and the occasional Michael Myers and Freddy Krueger had already attempted to rouse a conversation, only for it to fall flat. This could very well end up the same, and this night was lost to the turmoil of the inner workings of your mind, still reeling from the sting rumbling in your chest over the past few months.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

But it wasn't a joke when you swiveled around on your stool and faced him. Not at all. In a dimly lit bar, packed too tight with too many bodies bumping you to and fro even as you presently sat, you spotted him. Found the guy people had been mentioning all night as the other half of your ‘couple’s costume,’ saying you both looked amazing together, despite the fact none of them knew he was quite literally a stranger to you.

He sat at a lonesome table. Leaned on an elbow with a cheshire grin spread across the prettiest set of pink lips. His dark curly hair was tied behind his head, tucked into the mask that covered the upper half of his face. Even partially obscured like that, he was handsome, freezing you in place with those piercing brown eyes that were locked unwaveringly on your silhouette.

So he’d noticed you too. Inwardly, you were beaming. After two months of couch surfing and feeling sorry for yourself after a failed relationship wherein you’d walked on your partner of two years with someone who most definitely wasn’t you, you’d decided tonight was the night you’d get back out there. A night of fun, a night to meet someone new, to let loose a bit.

“What are you waiting for,” your friend Micah asked, shoving you forward with a hasty push. “He’s your Westley. If this isn’t some weird ass fate, I don’t know what is.”

Your Westley’s smile grew wider as you approached. Corners dragged upward to form that broad grin, bracketed by the sweetest set of dimples you’d ever seen on a man. Heart pounding a bit, you leaned up against the table, letting out a noncommittal huff. Puffed out a deep breath that caught his attention and had those chocolate brown eyes solely on you.

“Is this space taken?” you asked, and he dipped his head in greeting. “So you’re the guy everyone has been talking about all night.”

“Ah, yes,” he laughed, and you couldn’t help but to smile at the very sound. It’s a lovely, hearty sound. The kind of laugh that seemed dangerous, because you might like it too much. “And you’re the girlfriend I didn’t know I had.”

“You too, huh?”

“Yeah,” he echoed, taking a step closer. “Though it’s all very flattering. Prettiest Princess Buttercup here.” He dropped the lowest part into a whisper, “Definitely a compliment because, if I’m being honest, you’re way out of my league.”

Your cheeks burned with the compliment, feet fidgeting beneath you where you stood. He reached over and slid a chair beside his hip, patting the surface so you could hop on up and join him, a hand of his reaching out to steady you when you wobbled a bit. Another round of drinks were ordered and you learned quickly his name was Eddie and he’d been in town only for a couple weeks now. Had a few gigs in the city for the band he played in and would be off in another two days. Blew in and out like the storm that presently raged outside, wind howling, rain splashing against sidewalks, lightning painting the night sky in a shock of white before leaving it dark once more. He’d grown up in a small town, but realized he’d only ever had dreams that were too small for the walls he’d been raised in.

So he’d ended up on a short tour and would head off to California to start laying down tracks for the band’s first ever album. He sounded so hopeful and eager, so rejuvenated and excited about life, and it had you endeared to him. Drifting closer as the night went on and he asked you about your own life. Learned you grew up here in the city but craved something quieter, very much unlike him. You’d studied creative writing and English in college and wanted to write the stories people would one day know and love and shelve in their homes, but in the meantime you worked at a library. It wasn’t the most thrilling job, but it kept you abreast, and he regaled you with the endless fantasy titles he’d known and loved through the years.

It wasn’t long before the hours trickled on by and Micah approached the two of you with a sulking Jeremiah in tow. The latter of the two a little too inebriated based on the slight sway in his form and the hand Micah kept firmly planted around his forearm.

Her blue eyes flickered up at Eddie’s face, then drifted back to yours. “I’m taking this idiot home. He’s in time out —”

“Noooo,” he moaned, forehead pressing into the crook of his girlfriend’s neck.

“Are you coming back with me or…?” Micah’s eyes trailed back upward to Eddie once more, brows arched curiously.

Eddie looked at you and shrugged. “Up to you, Buttercup.”

“I’m gonna stay…actually.”

Micah nodded, giving you both one last glance over before tugging her boyfriend along behind her in the direction of the door. As she passed, she leaned up against the hollow of your ear and said loud enough over the music, “Be careful. Have fun. You’re beautiful and I love you and you deserve to enjoy yourself tonight, okay?”

Once they were gone your attention returned to the man swathed in black standing before you, shoulder bumping his. “It's too loud in here,” you shouted for emphasis, insides nearly rattling from the music booming from the speakers positioned about the room. “Is there somewhere we can go that’s a little more…”

“Private?” he asked, leaning down toward your ear. Chills skittered along your arms as his lips nearly brushed your skin there, gooseflesh pimpling in its wake. “I have a hotel room two blocks over. How do you feel about running?”

“Let’s go.” You grinned.

“As you wish.” He beamed, holding out a gloved hand for you to take.

Outside, the two of you huddled up beneath the small awning growing smaller by the second with the other patrons who had similar ideas of waiting for their rides and cabs or braving the fall storm head on and taking off into the soaked streets in their full Halloween costumes.

Laughter bubbled up from your lips as a particularly hard jolt against your back sent you tumbling into his form, a quick hand of his reaching out and curling low around your back. He tensed, eyes locked on yours, awaiting your response and you leaned further into him, relishing in the heat of his form.

Moments skittered by under the awning. His eyes roamed your form, dark and beautiful, ringed with those little crinkles that appeared in the corners whenever he smiled. He’d been smiling all night — at you, a thought that has little butterfly wings quivering low in your belly, and lower still at the suddenness of the desire ramping up in your bloodstream.

The glowing lights from the bar filter out onto the street. Flashed orange and red across Eddie’s features, painted him in vibrant color, highlighting the plushness of his lips, the curve of his jaw, the bump of his chin. Hesitant fingers reached up to brush at the curls tied behind his head, curled one of the ringlet strands around and around a fingertip, your forearm spreading over the space between his shoulders, around his neck until he pressed in closer to you. Those chocolate brown eyes flickered southward. Lingered on your lips briefly before traveling back up, asking that question without words. Your only answer was the upward tip of your mouth, leaning into the space, waiting to feel him warm against you.

Electricity danced in the moments shared between you. In the fingertips that pressed into his shoulder and gripped tight as his nose nudged at the space beside yours, your mouth tipping up closer to his. From here, you could smell the mint he’d tossed in his mouth on the way out, could feel the tremble of his breath against your sternum, feel the heat of it fanning over your lips.

But the kiss never came. Behind you, a group of friends pushed and shoved toward the front door, nearly sending you and Eddie into the sidewalk and out of the shelter provided by your awning. It dawned on you then, however begrudgingly, that maybe you should move, give others a space to wait for their vehicles, and start to head in the direction of his hotel room.

He seemed to agree, sliding his palm down your forearm to twine his fingers between yours. “Guess that’s our cue, huh?”

“Bet you’re glad you wore the equivalent of tights for pants today, huh?”

“Suppose it makes it easier for me to whisk you away in the night, now doesn’t it?” He barked out a laugh, and clutched your hand tighter, dragging you out onto the street and into the rain.

——

You were presently in the midst of what was officially the weirdest, most endearing hook up you’d ever had. Moments after rushing out into the busy city streets and getting absolutely drenched from head to toe, Eddie tugged you toward a grocery store, suggesting he had nothing back at the hotel. Had looked a little bashful about it, even when you reassured him it was fine and you’d manage without, though he wouldn’t hear any of it.

As a result, you trailed behind him, dress sopping wet and clinging to every inch of your body, helping gather some things you might need in between what you hoped would be an eventful afternoon. Water, snacks, and the like. He seemed so giddy with it, and you hated the way his dimple in his cheek had your heart and thighs clenching. You preferred only the latter of the two, and couldn’t afford yourself the emotional aspect that came along with the former.

Eventually you had both found yourselves in the frozen food aisle, his shoulder bumping yours, your fingers dancing in the spaces between the two of you, the anticipation of after burning brighter with every minute that passed.

“How do you think they know what…oh, I don’t know…Moose Tracks taste like?” Eddie asked, turning his head over his shoulder.

Fortunately for you, he’d removed his mask, revealing more of his features. Those curls that dangled along his brow line, the smattering of freckles along high cheekbones, the crinkled corners of his eyes whenever he smiled at you.

“What?” you asked, once more reminding yourself of just how differently this night was going than you’d originally anticipated.

“Like what makes a Moose Track a Moose Track?”

“I think it’s just a…mix of things that remind them of…you know what?” His eyes twinkled, and you shifted a little closer. It really sucked that he was cute — obnoxiously so. “I actually don’t know. But, I do think we have more than enough stuff here to feed an army. And I think the rain finally let up.”

“You want to head out?”

“I think we should,” you agreed, tugging him along behind you down the aisle, in search of the nearest check out line.

The walk to the hotel room reminded you both of what you’d intended for that evening. The curious glances you would catch him shooting your way, the way you’d do the same when he focused his attention ahead. It increased with every step closer to the looming building, the desire for closeness, to feel, to touch, to taste.

Burned brighter when he swiped his key card and you started shoving the things he’d brought inside of the mini fridge, before snatching two water bottles and placing them down on the bedside table. He whistled as you walked around the room, fingers snapping, one of his curls tucked against the fullness of his mouth.

“You know, we don’t have to do anything,” you reassured him, sensing the nervousness radiating from his form.

Those dark eyes settled on yours as you approached, palm coming up slowly to rest against his sternum, right where you could feel his heartbeat clanging against his ribs.

“It’s been a while,” he settled on, voice softer than it had been all evening, a tremorous quality catching your attention.

“We’ll go slow,” you promised, leaning up to finally, and happily, close the space between the two of you.

It felt like a long, shared exhale. The way he immediately knew which way to turn his head, how you liked for his calloused fingers to rest against your cheekbone, that you wanted to be as close as possible, pressed flush against his form. Your head swam as he turned you around and walked you backward until your backside thumped against the edge of the dresser positioned against the wall opposite the bed. Grunted as he reached a hand up the back of your neck and sought out that pesky zipper you wanted so badly pulled down.

As if he’d read your mind, the man in question gave the zipper a nice, hard tug and the fabric shifted and dropped around your shoulders, baring the similarly colored bra beneath. So maybe you’d gone shopping for your first foray back after your break up? Based on the darkened eyes honing in on the lacy fabric, you’d picked correctly.

“Such a shame,” he groaned against the curve of your collar bone, fingers pushing the dress down and onto the floor, “really liked that dress.”

“My turn,” you mused, fingers reaching forward to tug the tunic free from his obscenely tight pants.

He helped you with ease, arms lifting just enough to help pull it over his head, giggling as his endless mane of curls sprang free. Tattoos jumped to life before your eyes. The multiple on his arms and torso, some looking faded and older, likely done in someone’s house, and others freshly inked, leaving a tapestry of stories he’d likely tell you if you’d only had the time.

“Fuck it.” He reached down and cupped your jaw, bruising kiss after bruising kiss laid upon your mouth, your toes digging into the carpet below as pale fingers trailed down the center of your chest, and then lower still, pausing at the hem of your panties. “Can I touch you?”

You might burst into flames if he didn’t. “Please.”

“Never have to say please with me, Buttercup,” he said, fingers pushing past that lacy barrier until they met your flesh, knowing exactly what he’d find there. “Sweetheart…this all for me?”

“Don’t tease.”

A broken sigh spilled from your lips, fingers clutched tight around his forearm as those expert fingers dragged a slow circle around your clit before sliding back to your center, pushing in. Your head rolled back against the wall, heat blooming anew as he stepped closer into the circle of your thighs, watching the rapid rise and fall of your chest, enjoying the sounds made only for him, the slickness of your center practically pulling his fingers back in with every perfect thrust curled in that spot right where you needed him the most.

“Fuck, just like that, sweetheart,” he panted, mouth pressed tight to yours, grinning against your skin as you keened high and tight, creeping closer and closer to your edge.

And just when you’d thought you were about to explode into dozens of tiny stars like in the night sky above, Eddie stopped. You nearly cried out his name in your frustration, only to find him dropping down onto his knees in front of the dresser, capable hands tugging you closer to the edge, before he pushed the dainty fabric back to the side and swapped his fingers for his tongue.

One long stripe from center to clit was all you'd needed for the rubber band to snap. For the shaking to start, the chanting of his name like a mantra or a prayer to rouse the neighbors likely next door and alert everyone in the building to what magic Eddie had worked between your thighs.

“Not,” you gasped, leaning your head forward to rest against his heaving chest, “fair.”

“What’s not fair, sweetheart?”

“Too good at that.” Another rasped breath pooled from your lips, quieted by the sound of your lips pressing to his chest. Hazy eyes lifted to his face, a satisfied exhale slowing the rise and fall of your chest. “Get on the bed.”

“What do you —”

“On the bed,” you repeated, grinning wickedly as he backed up just enough so his kneecaps hit the mattress. “I want to look at you.”

And god, what a sight he was. Once you’d finally managed to tug his pants down, revealing the boxers beneath, you were rewarded with the fullness of Eddie Munson in the flesh. The narrow waist, the smattering of hair you kissed along his abdomen, the curve of his chest, the freckles along his chest and shoulders. Traced along the tattoos on his chest, the sides of his ribs, the one on his upper thigh, before dragging upward to slide over the increasingly — and massively impressive — hardened cock peeking out from the waistband of his boxers.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck,” he blew the words out on a shaky exhale as you squeezed a little tighter, gauging what he liked.

Your grin grew as you wiggled the remnants of his clothing off his hip and cupped the weight of him in your palm. Perfect. He was absolutely perfect, and you wanted so badly to show him just how much you thought so, sliding down further onto the edge of the bed, tongue dragging a long line up the underside, along that prominent vein that had him bucking upward off the bed.

“Can I, Eddie?”

He watched through hooded lashes as your eyes zeroed in on his leaking tip, thumb sliding over the pre-cum there, before gliding your palm in a slow downward motion around him. He nodded, breath nearly cutting off completely as you finally, and blessedly, welcomed him into your mouth, immediately knowing nothing would compare to this moment and this girl.

Ruined. You’d ruined him for others, your pretty smile around his cock driving him too swiftly to a precipice he didn’t want to see the end of. Not yet. “Wait, wait, wait. Fuck. Your mouth is perfect, sweetheart. But — mmm — I need you.”

He pulled you upward with a gentle hand on the back of your neck, rolling you over beneath him, tongue marking a path along your chest, the peaks of your nipples, the delicate skin of your abdomen. With each pass of his lips over your flesh, you sank deeper into the mattress, knee bent, foot digging into the space above his hip, drawing him close enough that you could feel his glistening, wet hardness brushing your abdomen.

“Someone’s impatient,” you teased, moaning as his finger circled your wet entrance. “Want you inside me.”

“Patience, Buttercup,” he practically purred, reaching over into the bedside table to find…nothing. “No. Oh shit. We didn’t get condoms. I’m such an idiot, I —”

“Shit,” you whimpered, jolting upright and nearly smashing your skull into his as he double checked the inside of the drawer. “What about your suitcase? Wallet?”

“I told you I don’t exactly do this often.”

Those dark brows knitted together on his forehead, fingers pinching at the bridge of his nose. You remembered then the fortunate and recent development of starting birth control after Micah suggested she could never live without it, and suddenly you wanted nothing more than to clasp your hands together and thank the heavens for the little pills you had back home in your friend’s bathroom.

“I’m on the pill,” you told him, swallowing the nervousness that grew with every beat of your heart. “And I’ve been tested recently. I’m clean.”

Maybe it was stupid. Maybe you should have known better.

“I’ve been tested since my last time too. I’m good,” he said, unmistakable desperation filling his voice.

“I don’t want to stop,” you whispered as he rolled onto his back.

“Me neither,” he agreed as you clambered over his lap and bracketed his hips with a thigh on either side.

Lured with the wonderful bliss that was Eddie Munson’s lips warm and plus against yours, you gripped him in hand and slowly lowered yourself down onto him, completely bare. There was something so raw about the moment. About the shuddered breath you both released, the way his hands cupped your hips as he pushed in deeper than you ever thought possible, his voice a broken mix of ‘that’s a good girl,’ ‘taking me so well,’ ‘look so good full of my cock,’ as you move over him.

You wanted to hate that you end up doing something between fucking and making love. For something so casual, it feels almost too intimate, the way you collided together like two pieces fitted together of a puzzle that had only been missing those parts.

And it wasn’t gentle, his fingers clutched in your flesh, feet planted on the bed as he eventually pounded up into you — but it was also somehow tender. A complicated mess, just like the shattered pieces of your heart as he groaned one last time and urged you to come with him, pulling you closer in his arms. His fingers circled your clit until you cried his name and clenched down around him, whimpering at the warmth of him spilling inside.

As you both drifted back to reality, he maneuvered around the bed and washed himself from between your thighs. Cooed when you winced at the cold contact, dropping a kiss against your forehead and telling you that it had started storming again. He could either call you a cab or you could stay the night, he’d suggested. You hadn’t anticipated spending the night with him, but after he dug around for the ice cream and M&Ms you got from the supermarket, you found you couldn’t say no to him.

Especially when he turned on the television and, funnily enough, The Princess Bride was on. Fate, or something more, seemed to laugh in your face. Gleeful as you sprawled out beneath the covers naked as the day you were born beside the man who you quickly learned enjoyed handfuls of popcorn mixed with his sweet chocolate treats.

It didn’t take long before he’d grown hard again, the lights dimmed and the food forgotten, your soft sighs and pleasured peals filling the room as he pushed in and watched as your eyes rolled back and back arched prettily for him.

And later, after you were both satiated and satisfied, you fell asleep to the sounds of Inigo Montoya’s famous speech, and the gentle inhales and exhales of the man sprawled out beneath you.

——

Daylight streamed in through the olive curtains positioned against the wall across from you. You hadn’t noticed them last night. Hadn’t noted the wooden walls, the pale ceiling above, nor the cream bedspread across your hips. Hadn’t noticed a lot of things, it seemed, other than the man who dozed behind you, tattooed arm slung low around your waist, keeping you in close.

Fallen asleep — you’d both fallen asleep watching The Princess Bride, much to your grunted amusement as you shifted up and into a sitting position. Eddie’s arm thumped onto the bed, leaving a wrinkled mess around his sinewy forearm. Sparing a glance over your shoulder, you took in the curve of his jaw. The way he looked more boyish than his nearly thirty years, lips parted in a sleepy breathing pattern, curls strewn all about his face. A smile graced your lips, fingers of yours rolling over the curve of his back, the heft of his shoulder, the breadth of his bicep.

Part of you craved curling back up beside him. Wanted to feel his mouth roving over yours, across your skin, between your thighs once more. Would probably dream about the way his face had scrunched up in pleasure before he came apart beneath you last night for weeks to come. But your eyes noticed the time ticking on the far wall, alerting you that work started in two hours. Some weekend reading activity for the children in your town you’d volunteered to work weekend hours for; hindsight, as they say, was twenty-twenty.

“She’s running away in the night,” he grumbled beside you, mouth rolling over to press into the pillow you had slept soundly on for a shocking eight hours, letting out a loud yawn. You couldn’t recall the last time you’d done so. That curly head of hair lifted, too-long strands falling into his gaze as he pinched one eye shut and glanced toward the giant bedroom window. “Or…morning, I guess?”

“I have work,” you said, reaching over to snatch your underwear from off the floor.

He watched with rapt attention as you whirled around and clasped your bra into place, cheeks burning despite the fact he’d seen every inch of you merely hours ago. The man propped himself up onto one elbow, your eyes catching the bat tattoos on his arm as his fingers reached over to curl around your hip, dragging you back down into bed.

Soon enough it was loud giggles, his fingers dancing along your sides, noisy kisses against your own. But it didn’t take long before you were reduced to breathy sighs. His fingers against the span of your hips, his chest pressing yours into the mattress. Lips over yours, against your cheek, the curve of your throat, the hollow between your breasts, the valley of your abdomen. He stopped with a nip along your hip bone, tongue laving over the sensitive skin there.

“Do you have to go?” he groaned against your stomach, placing a final kiss there before crawling back up your body and cradling the back of your head with one hand, his body weight perched on the other elbow, face hovering over your own. Pretty, he was so damn pretty and you wished you could hate him for it.

“I guess I have a few minutes,” you suggested coyly.

And it was all Eddie needed before he had you beneath him once more singing a tune he knew he’d never forget.

You dressed in silence after. He pulled on a fresh pair of jeans and a thin sweater while you glanced at the wrinkled heap of your dress from the night before. It hadn’t dawned on you the complications of getting your feet wet on Halloween — at least, not until now.

“I can’t walk back to Micah’s in that,” you groaned, pointing to the messy ball of fabric on the floor.

“Wait — I have an idea!”

Eddie rummaged around a box in the far corner of the room and tossed a tee shirt your way. Across the front was ‘Corroded Coffin’ in a messy font that reminded you of how your brain often felt after one too many cups of coffee in the morning.

“Your band?” you asked, turning the shirt around to show him.

“Yeah.” He nodded, white teeth flashing with his smile. “You know, you could see us some time.”

You quickly slipped the dress over your head and let the skirt ruffle messily along the floor, then moved to roll up the billowy sleeves to your shoulders.

“I can’t say that I’ll be in California any time soon,” you told him, pulling the tee over your head next and draping it over the belt. Like this, it looked more like an oddly fitted skirt and a top. You already decided that was much better than a Halloween costume, so it would do until you got home and could change.

He nodded rapidly, like he knew that, but hadn’t realized that you’d be coasts apart in only a couple of days.

“Well…” he trailed off, searching around the bedside table for a moment.

Once he procured a pencil and a piece of paper, he scribbled down a string of numbers you immediately knew were the hope for something more from a boy with kind eyes, a beautiful smile, and a heart of gold. Your chest ached. If only you’d met him two years ago, at a better time, in a place where you were more open to whatever this could not be.

“My number — for the place I’ll be staying at for the next couple months,” he explained, tucking it into the exposed circle of your palm, closing your fist within his fingers. “Maybe, I don’t know…we can talk?”

“I can do talking,” you conceded, already hating the fact you knew you wouldn’t be utilizing the number.

It was better this way; he was better off this way.

You both parted with a kiss in the doorway. With his arms looped low around your waist in a way that felt too familiar. A way that suffocated, heart twisting at the soft smile that graced his pretty mouth when he wished you a good shift and you wished him a safe flight.

The walk home was all inward grins that flowed on your face until it hurt. Waves to random strangers passing on the street, curious gazes from onlookers at the billowing sleeves you kept shoving up into your tee shirt as you passed. Memories of the night before flashed in your mind. Of his fingers tugging the zipper on the dress, tossing your underwear alongside his on the floor, mouth on yours, hands learning the contours of your body, the way he fitted perfectly inside you.

Another time, another place, another day maybe.

And that day was not today.

Micah was sprawled across the kitchen island when you entered. You shut the door as quietly as possible behind you, only to find she’d already been awake anyway. A cup of likely long gone cold coffee rested beside her along with a bottle of painkillers, her forehead pressed against the cool tile, nursing what you imagined had to be the headache from hell.

“You’re home late,” she grumbled, pushing her head up into her hands. Blonde hair spilled around her forearms, face covered behind her palms. “I’m assuming you had a good time. Which will at least make one of us. Jere passed out as soon as we got home and snored all night.”

“Sorry, sweetie,” you apologized, stepping further into the kitchen, opening the refrigerator immediately for some water. “I…we had fun.”

“I’m going to need you to spill, because he was cute even with the mask. Don’t think I didn’t notice,” she mused, suddenly healed of her headache, what with the way she looked at you like she’d received the best news of her life.

“I accomplished exactly what I wanted to. I got my toes wet.” You shrugged, lathering some butter onto a freshly toasted bagel.

“You like him,” she screeched, making her own self wince at the sheer volume of it.

You did. You do. But those feelings would fade. Your resolve had already hardened because he wanted romance and flowers and you needed no strings. He deserved that much — he deserved so much.

“We had sex, that’s all. And he’s leaving for California in a few days. I’m never going to see him again. So it doesn’t really matter, now does it?”

——

It hadn’t felt real. For days, you’d doubted every symptom. Every inkling that might have alluded to your present condition.

First, it had been the realization that your period was late. Not even the one or two days you would have pushed aside as a result of stress, the extra hours you’d taken up at work to try and save a little money here and there for a new apartment, or your severe lack of sleep. Then, the nauseousness started. In waves, most days, and definitely not only in the mornings like you’d been led to believe your whole life. Your chest ached next; a fullness that felt unlike your normal, monthly symptoms. Chalked it up to your oncoming period. The same period by that point was nearly two weeks delayed. There was also the fact that no matter how much you slept, you’d still felt like it wasn’t enough. Found yourself dozing off at work, yawning standing in the line for groceries, losing focus while out with friends.

There was also the fact statistics were on your side. You’d done all the right things and were on birth control at the time. So it couldn’t be…that, right? Statistically improbable, unlikely, unwarranted. At least, that was what you had chosen to reassure yourself with, quieting the shouting in your skull that suggested otherwise.

It wasn’t until you were sprawled out against that obnoxiously crinkly white paper in the doctor’s office a little over a month after Halloween that you’d even allowed the thought to enter your mind. It also happened to be the first moment you wondered if you were about to have the entirety of your life changed by a night with a boy in too tight pants you’d definitely not thought about even once since you’d spent the night with him. And you most definitely didn’t picture his dark pupils expanding in the night as you rolled over him, his palms gripping your hips, your hands on his chest, heads thrown back in shared ecstasy.

No.

Not at all.

Six weeks, they told you, with sympathetic looks and uncertain smiles as you exhaled shakily and stared up at the ceiling to stop the room from spinning out of control around you. Six weeks pregnant and undoubtedly so, based on the rapid thrum of the baby’s heartbeat on the screen before you. Strong, they’d said. Perfectly healthy for someone at this point in your pregnancy. They printed pictures up for you of the tiny gummy bear with arms and you held it in trembling hands as they began to speak. Words strung together to form sentences you’d barely understood. Options for next steps, vitamins to take, habits to stop, foods to eat and foods to avoid, how much caffeine to drink, how much weight you could lift and what activities you should start to limit—your head spun with it and continued the whole quiet walk home back to Micah’s place she shared with her boyfriend, Jeremiah.

She welcomed you with open arms as you entered their apartment with a pamphlet on pregnancy in one hand and your pocketbook in the other, whimpered cries of not knowing what to do soaking through her knitted sweater. She’d accepted it without hesitation, just as she always did and would. Held you close to her chest — and hissed at Jeremiah to leave when he’d eventually poked his head in — as you processed the emotions swirling like an endless kaleidoscope in your mind.

And later, when your tears had dried and she’d plopped a freshly opened box of ice cream in your lap and demanded you eat, she asked, “Please just…tell me it’s absolutely Westley’s and not Paul’s.”

“Six weeks,” you sighed, watching her shoulders relax. There was no mistaking who the baby’s father was, and at least that brought you some comfort, “Definitely Westley’s.”

Though you weren’t sure if that made it any better.

“I just want you to know it’s going to be okay,” Micah reassured you, reaching over to rub at your forearm. But did she really know that? How could she? Because to you, it felt like the earth had fallen out of orbit, spinning dizzily now with no signs of stopping any time soon. “I know we don’t have the most space right now, but the couch turns into a futon. It’s yours until you find something otherwise, you know that.”

Telling Eddie his world was (potentially) about to change happened two weeks later. You needed some time to process, is what you’d told yourself was the reason why you’d delayed. After hours of debating, you decided to keep it, and knew that there was always the chance Eddie didn’t want kids — always the chance he’d want to pretend it never happened and that he didn’t want to be a part of its life. Regardless of what he chose, you’d set your mind on being a mother, and you’d do it alone if you had to. But he at least deserved to know; deserved the option of choosing them, even if all you’d had was a night fueled by lust, because you weren’t interested in anything more than that.

Fear had clamped your mouth shut, preventing you from forming those two words for fourteen days. Just two simple words that would have opened the dam to let in the floodgates for the conversation that needed to happen.

Eddie, I’m pregnant.

I’m pregnant.

You’d rehearsed it all afternoon, pacing a certifiable hole in the ground from how rapidly you’d moved. Had even stood in front of your friends and had them listen to it until you felt confident enough to do it for real. Gripped Micah’s hand tight as you swiped the man’s number from your pocketbook and dialed. It rang once, then twice, and you worried he wouldn’t answer or you’d caught him at a bad time when the line exploded with sound. Voices. Dozens of voices spilled through the other line, and music along with it.

You winced. “Uhm, Eddie? Is this the right number?”

A long pause extended, drowned out by guitar strings and drum beats. “Uh — uh, yeah. This is him.”

He sounded gruffer than you remembered — voice tinged with a smokier quality that seemed almost unfamiliar to you now. Not that you’d spoken much that night. Maybe he’d caught something, maybe he was sick. Maybe it was merely the weeks that had grown on since you’d seen him, and he'd become another person in the crowd already — someone you knew if only for a night. Heart pounding, you gripped Micah’s hand tighter and wound the phone wire around a pointed fingertip.

“Hi…I’m sorry I’m only calling now. Busy, you know?” A lie, because you’d never intended to call. It had been one night; that was all it was ever meant to be. “It’s the…girl from the party. The Buttercup to your Westley costume on Halloween.”

He chuckled in reply, and you wondered if maybe he was shy. He’d been looser the night you met — louder. Boisterous and passionate. Carefree and fun. But you wondered briefly if that was the glass of whiskey he’d drunk before you slipped away to his hotel room hearing him now. But you remembered that next morning, too; his splendid affection, the kissing, the exuberance of his persona, the way he’d made you fall apart around him again.

It seemed…strange now. Cut off, cold even.

“I’m…pregnant. I just —” You swallowed the knot of fear forming in the back of your throat and continued, “I just thought you should know…because it’s yours.”

There was another prolonged pause.

Nervousness welled up in your throat the longer it continued. Joined that roiling nausea that had become your friend and foe these weeks. Swallowing thickly, your fingers pressed over the span of your abdomen, over the knitted sweater and skin protecting your tiny secret — still not visible to others yet, but wholly your own all the same. You’d already decided you would love them fiercely enough for the both of you if he didn’t want anything to do with it, just so they’d never feel like they were missing out.

Then, after what felt like decades, he asked, “Who is this again?”

You repeated your name, nervousness rattling your bones, fingers trembling in Micah’s. Micah mouthed out ‘Breathe,’ even though you were doing anything but.

The line went dead, and your heart along with it.

——

let me know what you think! 🩷

#lunaloveseddie #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson fanfiction

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hotreadingwitch · 5 months

Text

Bucky x Reader - Again?

Content Warnings/Kinks: dominance, praise kink, daddy kink, choking, scratching (marks), breath play, breast play, finger sucking, fingering, cum swallowing, oral sex, unprotected vaginal sex (multiple rounds)

Again?

“You know I wasn’t sure if you were going to ask me out again…”

“Oh yeah?” Bucky smiled slowly in that way Y/n was starting to think might just drive her crazy, “Why’s that?”

“No reason in particular I guess” she blushed.

“You should give yourself more credit you know? You’re a beautiful and smart woman Y/n”

His steel eyes lingered on hers for a beat too long before he moved to hold the restaurant door open for her.

~ 3 hours later ~

“Well, this is my place” she smiled nervously as she invited Bucky into her apartment.

“It’s very nice Y/n” he nodded curtly as he assessed the place.

Y/n shook her head, chuckling at the polite way he talked. She’d noticed him talking this way on their last date, using odd expressions, almost sounding as if he was from a different time.

“Come, I’ll give you a tour” she offered with a small chuckle, gesturing to the small space.

She took his gloved hand, leading him in a small circle through the apartment. He glanced down at the connection but if he had anything to say about it he kept his thoughts to himself.

“Kitchen” she pointed.

“Kitchen” he affirmed, bobbing his head slightly.

“Living room”

Another curt nod.

“Bathroom, in case you need it” she smiled, “and…Bedroom”

They stood in front of her door. It seemed to Y/n as if Bucky was trying his hardest to not peak into the cozy room or maybe there was something else that he was trying to resist.

“Bucky…” she said quietly, her voice thicker than she’d have liked.

His gloved hand came up to her cheek, caressing the skin with a softness she somehow hadn’t expected, the leather smooth against her skin.

“Can I—“ he seemed to gather himself, “Can I kiss you?”

“You can kiss me”

The tension between them crackled. As Bucky leaned down, his tall, broad frame curving down to meet hers as she tilted her parted lips upward. When he finally captured her lips with his it was like they both were suddenly put in a trance, unable to keep their hands off of each other. Bucky’s hands slid under the fabric of her shirt, gripping at her waist just as hers secured themselves behind his neck.

“Fuck” he groaned onto her mouth.

Guiding them into her bedroom, she moved backward until he knees hit the edge of her plush mattress. His hand grazed her neck lightly as their kisses slowed. She melted into his touch, sighing onto his mouth at the feeling. He parted their lips slowly, dragging away from her only by an inch or two to ask, “May I?”

When she nodded, both his hands gripped her breasts, kneading their tender tissue. He kissed between them and down her stomach, stopping above her pussy, concealed still by her short skirt and panties.

“You’re so fucking perfect doll” he groaned as he slid them down her legs.

“Doll?” She chuckled lightly, arching a questioning brow, “How old are you?”

Bucky looked completely serious when he replied, “106”

She laughed harder, her chuckle interrupted as Bucky caressed her cheek, pulling her in for another hungry kiss. Their mouths collided, mashing their lips and teeth together. They kissed for minutes but somehow it felt like hours. Y/n knew she could kiss him forever if given the opportunity.

When he finally spread her legs, not bothering to take off her skirt, his eyes darkened in a way that, at any other time with any other man, might be considered scary.

“I—” he started, uncharacteristically shy.

“Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, I just…it’s been a while since I’ve done something like this—I don’t usually…” he gulped, slipping his glove off, revealing a dark metal arm that shimmered in the low light.

He looked at her expectantly as her eyes widened slightly.

“I need you to touch me” she begged then, her voice breathy, “Now”

His gaze trailed down her slowly, skirt scrunched up, face flushed, pussy bare, and all for him. The first contact of his fingers was desperate, like he couldn’t resist touching her and was so glad that she needed him as much as he needed her. He rubbed over her clit gently, using three warm fingers flat against her, making her hips buck upward in response.

“Fuck” she breathed, gasping as his fingers spread her lips, playing with her clit with intense focus.

As he rubbed against her, his mouth dived down, tasting her hole. He moaned onto her, the vibrations making her shiver, as he licked up the slickness that was already there.

“You taste so fucking good” he groaned again, “Fuck—doll you’re driving me crazy”

She ground her pussy up to meet his prodding tongue, shaking as his fingers pleased her clit. Y/n felt his other hand, the mysterious metal one, reach up and caress her neck, the cool material sending another shiver down her spine.

“Yeah that feels good doesn’t it?” he chuckled as her back arched upwards, her clit connecting to his other hand’s calloused fingers.

Warmth shot through her body, making her cheeks flush and her breath hitch. Y/n practically screamed, crying out and shaking as he removed the hand from her neck, pushing two fingers just inside her wet hole instead. She was soaking, yes, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t tight. In fact, she was so clenched that he could barely press his fingers further than an inch or two into her.

“Doll…” he groaned as if in awe, “Fuck—this pussy’s so tight”

Y/n could feel the familiar sensation building in her lower belly. He plunged his two metal fingers in and out of her, caressing a low, sensitive spot within her.

“Fuck” she whined, the feeling intense and rising quicker and quicker by the second.

She kept her grip on his thick hair as her hips bucked rhythmically toward his eager hands. He didn’t even have his mouth on her and yet he’d brought her to the edge somehow anyway. “Ah—shittt” she gasped, her breath hitching.

He held down her hips with his arms, holding her pussy in place as she squirmed with pleasure.

“Cum for me doll, cum on these fingers” he commanded, eyes full of lust.

Bucky ordering her to cum with his fingers pleasing her like she’d never been pleased before was enough to make her burst all over his hands. She throbbed and throbbed, pleasure coursing through her like a rushing river.

“Mmm,” she moaned quietly, satiated as Bucky rubbed slowly over her whole pussy, the feeling calming beneath his large palm. When he finally removed his fingers from her, her legs shook as if instantly missing the loss of his touch. He chuckled darkly before kissing her, capturing her mouth in a quick tangle of tongues. She felt his flesh hand gripping her neck, the feeling causing her to whimper on his lips.

“You’re killing me doll” he groaned, eyes dark, “So fucking beautiful when you cum for me”

His lips kissed at her jaw, right above where his hand was squeezing roughly at her neck, as he raised his other hand to her lips, placing two soaked, metal fingers on her lips.

“Open” he instructed, his tone leaving her with no other option, not that she’d want to say no. Y/n obeyed, taking his fingers into her mouth, making him groan at the sight. She moaned as she closed her lips around them, appreciating the feeling of fullness and the taste of her own cum on his cold fingers.

She reached down his front, pulling at his belt buckle with a low, desperate whine.

“Please Bucky” she begged, her doe eyes conveying her need.

“Fuck, I want to…but I can’t—“ he paused frustrated, his voice a low growl, “I can’t go slow, it’s gonna be rough doll, I need it rough—fast”

She nodded obediently, slinking back further onto the bed until she hit the headboard, Bucky following in her wake as if literally mesmerized by her. His left hand caressed her side, pulling the rest of her clothes off of her, as she did the same to him, leaving them both bare.

“Daddy?” His head snapped up to look at her, eyes darkening more and more as the silence stretched.

When he finally spoke, his voice strained, “Yes?”

“I need you to fuck me now”

“…I don’t want to hurt you”

“I don’t care” she shook her head, reaching back to spread her ass cheeks, making him grunt at his view, his palms immediately gripping her ass, “Don’t you get that I want it as much as you do? I want you to hurt me, to fuck me so hard you can barely control yourself. Unless you don’t want me anymore?”

“Fuck—doll, I—” Bucky slipped himself between her legs, grinding his hips slowly forward and back so that his massive cock became coated with her slick, “Are you sure?”

“Yes Daddy”

With a grunt, he stretched her hole with his large size, pushing so much of it into her that her legs spread on instinct, one hooking back over him. His hands grabbed at her waist, every inch of his taut, naked body on display for her to turn and see as he pulled her fully down onto his cock. The fit of him was so snug, so tight that his groan was practically feral.

“Yeah—fuck yes” he encouraged as his cock began to slap in and out of her, “Shit, I’m fucking stretching you doll”

Bucky tilted her head back with a small nudge under her chin, his lips crashing down onto hers so fast that she barely had time to breathe.

“Mmm,” she moaned into his mouth, wincing at the size of him and the immediate speed of his thrusts.

His cock was ridiculously big but she took it like the good girl she was, practically beaming the more he praised her, telling her how good she was and how much her tight pussy drove him crazy. Each thrust felt like heaven and it was only made better when he slunk a hand down between her legs to start rubbing her clit, pleasing her in every way.

“Hold your breath doll” he ordered then, his voice husky in her ear, “And choke yourself for me”

She obeyed without a second thought, sucking in a breath, struggling as she squeezed her throat, using both hands to cut off her air supply as much as possible. "Yes,” she moaned, her noises muffled.

The feeling of her own hands tight around her neck, paired with Bucky pleasing her, was everything she needed to be sent over the metaphorical edge. Her body writhed in front of him as heat pulsed within her. Her heart raced in her chest the more and more she refused to breathe, her body making a mess all over his cock.

“That’s it” she finally gasped, her lungs filling up with short stifled breaths, “Daddy…”

His pace was fast, dangerous, and practically animalistic. Her breasts bounced up and down as she ground backward, her hips snapping to meet each and every one of his powerful thrusts. “You—you” she stuttered, her voice quivering before turning to a sigh, “Fuck, that feels so good”

“Yeah, that’s it, that’s my girl” he praised, grunting.

Soon, the feeling began to dissipate, the strong waves of her orgasm lessening, her legs shaking. But he kept thrusting.

“Again?” she whimpered, looking back to meet his steely gaze.

“Again” he grunted.

Her pussy was aching, overstimulated, and sore but the feeling of him hitting even deeper within her was enough to make her nod her head obediently and murmur a small yes. Bucky flipped her over then so that she was on her back, facing up at him. He continued fucking her then, roughly thumbing her stiff clit. Her hole was so sensitive, the combination was enough to make pleasure rise up quickly within her all over again.

“Fuck” she whispered as he curved forward over her, sucking her jaw as his other, metal hand, squeezed her throat. Her eyes scrunched closed, allowing her mind to focus exclusively on the feelings.

"Don’t take your eyes off of me doll” he growled, “don’t you fucking dare”

Eyelashes fluttering, she resisted the urge to close her eyes, his tight, relentless grip on her jaw making sure her eyes never dared to look away from his dark gaze. Her body shook beneath him, her legs and arms all quivering, “Yes Daddy…”

She arched her back, pushing her breasts up to touch his chest as she threw her head back into the pillow and her hands up to grip the headboard. The angle of her body only allowed him to fuck her deeper, her hands holding on so tightly that her knuckles were turning pale. Y/n’s room filled with the sounds of sweaty skin slapping as Bucky’s hips snapped against her soaking wet pussy.

“Do you feel that doll” he growled as one hand played with her clit, still thrusting in and out, “That’s how it feels to have my fucking cock throbbing in your pretty little pussy”

Her head lulled to the side but his strong hand kept her face forward, looking straight at him as she came. She whined as her pussy pulsed, tightening around his pounding cock. Bucky moved his hand down under her back as it arched up off of the mattress, her body overwhelmed by the pleasure. As he grunted hoarsely in her ear, she could tell he was cumming too. The feeling was like a bucket of ice water washing over her body, sweet intensity running through her veins, making her shiver. She cried out, the pleasure was too intense.

Bucky groaned, fucking into her faster and faster, playing with her clit all the while, as he pushed them both through their second orgasm.

“Fuck, that’s it doll” he cursed, “So wet—fuck—so fucking good for me”

She gripped his broad shoulders, scratching down his tanned back, her nails no doubt leaving marks that claimed her as his as much as the cum dripping out from her pussy made sure she belonged solely to him.

#oneshot #smut #fanfiction #fanfic #marvel #marvel fanfic #mcu #bucky smut #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x reader #james bucky barnes

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 2 months

Text

One More Time

Series Masterlist

Warnings: noncon, roughness, dark elements, some sexiness in this.

Note: Please leave me some feedback either in a reblog or an ask! Likes are always appreciated as well. You know I love yall and hell yeah, you love Professor Steve.

You lay on the bed, entirely still, dazed into a trance. Steve disappeared moments ago, you can hear him down the hall. He slams off the faucet in the bathroom as his sigh flows down the hall. He returns, looming in the doorway.

Your eyes roll down and you see him, naked, playing with himself as he watches you. The thick muscles of his neck tense as he huffs heavily. He growls as he approaches the end of the bed.

“Baby,” he beckons you, “come here.”

You gulp and sit up. Your body is hollow, your mind fuzzy. This isn’t happening. This isn’t real. It’s not supposed to be like this. It’s supposed to be Jensen here. You’re supposed to be the happiest you’ve ever been, not mortified to the bone.

He strokes himself, still soft, growing more frustrated as he pumps his dangling dick. You hold back a cringe as you bring yourself to your knees. You crawl towards him clumsily. He reaches out and grabs the back of your head.

“Open,” he jerks you towards him, nearly mashing your face into his naked pelvis.

“Professor–”

“Open your mouth,” he says, harsher than before.

Your eyes gleam and you close them to keep the tears from falling. You obey, parting your lips. He shoves his soft tip into your mouth, urging inside as you whimper. You nearly gag at the feeling of his limp flesh.

He brings his other hand around your head, framing your skull as he tilts his hips. He rocks, slowly at first. Your arms shake as you struggle to hold yourself up. Your skin speckles with tortuous heat. The thought of what him doing, the reality, you can see yourself from above, being used like you’re nothing.

He grunts and speeds up, growing more and more desperate. He squeezes your head until it hurts, slamming his pelvis into your face. You choke and puff out through your nose.

“Come on, come on…”

You feel a twitch. He keeps his motion, legs hitting the bed frame as he ruts into your mouth. The mattress moves with your body as you grip the edge, shifting with his strength. He sighs as you feel him getting hard.

His grasp slackens on your head and he cradles you gently, petting your cheek with his other hand. He groans as he slows, thrusting in and out as he grows. He prods at the back of your throat as you struggle to breath around him.

“God, baby, you feel what you’ve done? You got me hard for you, huh?” He snarls, “it’ll be better this time…”

He slows you as spit dribbles down your chin. He slides out of your mouth and urges you back. You sit on your heels and stare down at the bed.

He startles you as he grabs the top of your panties. You yelp as he flips you onto your back, stripping your underwear down your legs. You clutch the rumpled blankets in your fists as he brings your feet against his shoulders.

He pushes his hand against your cunt, feeling around with his fingers. He rams two into you, poking in and out meanly. You whine as his intrusion stretches you. He spreads his fingers wide and bends his knees, lining his swollen head up with your entrance.

“Professor–” you squeak, “wait, it hurt–”

You swallow down your fractured protest as he pushes inside between his fingers. You squeal as he rocks slightly, trying to loosen the strain. He brings his fingers together, keeping them curled into you as he wiggles deeper and deeper.

Your tears spring free as your bat your lashes furiously. He thrusts, breaking past the last of your resistance and you spasm, screaming as you push yourself up on your elbows.

“Stop, stop!” You beg as you reach out with your fingertips, “you’re hurting me–”

“You feel so good,” he ignores you as he drags his fingers out of you, “fuck, yes, you’re so tight.”

He keeps a steady but slow motion, easing in a little further with each tilt.

“Please,” you sniffle, “please, I… stop! It hurts so bad–”

His nostrils flare as he growls and pushes your legs together, leaning them against one side of his torso as he hugs them with his bicep. The pressure grows inside of you, adding to the tension of his intrusion. You sob as he keeps going, mindless to your pleas.

He bends your legs higher as he leans over you, planting a hand beside your head as he folds you beneath him. He keeps his feet on the floor as he fucks you deeper and deeper. You bite your tongue until you taste blood, shaking as you weep in agony.

You grab his wrist and squeeze, gnashing your teeth as his flesh claps against yours. His arm falls from around your legs and he fondles your chest as he pants wildly. His grunts grow louder and closer together. He gurgles and you feel the wet warmth explode inside of you.

He’s done. Again. Thank god.

You can’t help the relief that eases the horror. He buries himself to his limit and you wriggle. He stays inside of you and lays over you, heaving into your neck. He kisses your neck as his breath mellows.

“Did you cum? I think I felt it,” he nuzzles into you, snapping his hips so you cry out. “Mmm, sweetie, that was… perfect.”

You moan as you lay limp and prone beneath him. You can’t move. Your insides ache and your soul is cracked. That was a nightmare.

You turn your head, tears pouring out as you hiccup. You can’t stop. He hurt you and when you asked him to stop, he just kept going. That’s not how it’s supposed to happen.

“Baby,” he purrs, “I’m sorry it hurt so much. It’s supposed to the first time–”

You push on his shoulder. He doesn’t budge. He’s too big for you to move.

“Pl-please,” you babble, “please, get off–”

“No snuggles?” He whines against your cheek, pecking it gently.

“Get off,” you grit your teeth.

“Baby,” he begs.

“Get off of me!” You beat against his shoulders with your fists and flail, “get off! Get off!”

“Shhh,” he covers your mouth with his hand, “sweetie, don’t yell–” he grunts as you bite his palm.

He retracts his hand and pushes himself up, still inside of you as he looms over you. Before you can holler again, his knuckles flash across your cheek. The back of his hand leaves a sting on your flesh. You bring your hand up to touch the tender spot and gape up at him.

“Sweetie, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to– you scared me and–”

You cover your face, quaking. You close your eyes as you tremble, waiting for his next strike. He touches your forearm and you flinch, letting out a whimper.

“Sweetie, I would never hurt you,” he coos as he bends over you again, sliding deep until you squeal, “please,” he pulls at your hand trying to uncover your face as he rocks his hips, “forgive me, baby,” he fucks you slowly, his cum leaking out around him, “let me make it better, baby.”

#steve rogers #dark steve rogers #dark!steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #drabble #series #one #au #college au #professor!steve #mcu #marvel #avengers #captain america

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harlowcomehome · 5 months

Text

Thanksgiving on the road:

You sat beside Jack in the sprinter van, his jaw was tense and he was scrolling mindlessly on his phone. His legs were spread, your knees almost touching.

You knew he was upset about missing Thanksgiving this year but he didn’t want to openly admit that and make the day even worse.

The snowstorm had gotten bad, meaning all of the flights that were supposed to go out were delayed for days. Maggie had offered to put Thanksgiving dinner off for a day or so but Jack didn’t want his entire family waiting on him so he politely declined, even though a part of him really wanted them to.

This was supposed to be your first Thanksgiving away from your own family, you had agreed to go home with Jack which he now felt overwhelmingly guilty about.

He did his best not to miss major holidays, keeping a promise to his mom and now he felt like he was letting her down too.

Keeping all of these emotions inside was killing him, but he didn’t want to come off as ungrateful so he kept it to himself.

You were anxious about the roads, the snow making them slippery as you watched it continue to flurry out the window. Luckily you were almost to the hotel where you’d be snowed in for the next few days to come.

Jack grabbed your hand giving it a squeeze of reassurance with a slight smile. He knew you hated weather like this, and the intense fear of sliding off the road wasn’t helping.

“Almost babe” he whispered weakly, his eyes still set on scrolling on his phone. He rubbed your hand with his thumb for added reassurance.

Urban gave you a pathetic half-smile, knowing the energy in the van was gloomy.

When you got to the hotel, Jack mumbled something about taking a nap and you knew now that it was deeper than surface level. He was more upset than you had originally thought.

“Well, Happy Thanksgiving baby” he mumbled sadly, kissing you before falling asleep.

You waited for him to start snoring before sliding out of the hotel bed and going to Neelam's room instead.

You text her before walking over, asking her to text Urban so the three of you could talk.

Urban and Neelam sat apart waiting for you to come in.

“What’s going on with Jack?” You panicked as you entered the room, not giving anyone else a chance to speak first.

Neelam looked to Urban for a response.

“He promised his mom he wouldn’t miss any holidays, and now he feels bad because you’re also missing yours with your folks” he shrugged.

“He told you that?” Neelam questioned, looking to him and then you for a reaction.

“No, I just know him” he shrugged again, softly laughing like it should’ve been common knowledge.

“I know you-“ Neelam pointed in your direction. “So what are you about to have us do?”

Urban let out a loud laugh, also knowing this to be true and waiting for direction.

You looked around Neelam's suite frantically for ideas.

“Maybe we can push those tables together. We can call room service and see what kind of Thanksgiving meals they have if any?”

“I saw turkey sandwiches in the vending machines if nothing else” Urban shrugged and you nodded.

“Go get some of those!” Neelam gave him some money from her purse as the two of you moved the tables together.

“They might sell out” she defended herself as Urban quickly left the room.

Once the door shut the two of you started immediately talking.

“I knew he was upset about not being able to go home today but I never knew about the promise he made to Maggie.”

“He told her he’d try his best to not miss any holidays and this is the first one” Neelam responded before she looked around for a sheet to put over the tables.

“I mean, it’s not like he can control the weather” you sighed helping her cover the table.

“You know how Jack is though, a total control freak” she paused “Respectfully.”

Urban was back with the sandwiches and handed them to you to place in the fridge.

You called downstairs, ordering some mashed potatoes and a few other side dishes to be delivered to Neelam's room in thirty minutes.

That gave you time to wake up Jack and get dressed in something a little fancier than sweats and an oversized sweater.

“Should we call Maggie and Brian while we eat?” You pondered out loud, trying to think of a way to include his family.

“I’ll FaceTime Maggie, Brian, Clay, and the rest of Jack's family that way they can be here too” Urban suggested as you were getting ready to leave the room.

“I owe you” you smiled at him as you left to go back to yours and Jacks shared room.

When you made it back to your room Jack was sitting up in bed, he was watching something on TV with a sad expression.

“I called you” he mumbled, holding his arms out for you to get in bed with him.

You shook your head, “my love, I need you to get up!”

“I just want to lay here” he laid flat in bed, pulling the covers over his shoulders.

“You can’t! Get dressed babe, I have a surprise for you” you smiled, walking over to your suitcase to get out the dress you intended to wear today.

“A surprise?” He sat up, running his hands through his hair, fluffing out the curls. He was immediately curious.

“What are you up to woman?” He teased, throwing his legs over the bed and rushing over to hold you from behind.

“You’ll see!” You giggled as he spun you around briefly before setting you back down.

Jack didn’t waste time, he got dressed in a cream-colored sweater and dress pants and waited for you to finish touching up your makeup.

“What’s going on?” He asked impatiently, he knew you had to have planned something when Urban wasn’t answering his messages.

Neelam text you a thumbs up, meaning it was show time. You checked the hotel hallway for people before waving your hand and motioning for Jack to follow you.

He grabbed your hand, intertwining your fingers and the two of you giggled as you quickly ran down the hallway to the other end.

When Neelam opened the door, you led Jack to the makeshift Thanksgiving day table.

His family was on FaceTime, leaning against a chair.

Jack was in disbelief. He was shocked that you had gone through all of this effort but more so that you had involved his family too.

“Hi, honey!” His mom waved and Jack held his hand over his mouth, hiding the fact that his lip was quivering. He took a moment before sitting down in front of the phone with you by his side.

“Hi guys” he chuckled, finally able to form words.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t come home but…“

“Don’t worry about that. You couldn’t control it. We just want you to be safe” Brian chimed in, giving Jack the release of all the pressure that he felt.

Jack laughed when Urban set out the turkey sandwiches, a single tear escaping the corner of his eye before telling his family that he loved them and that he’d see them soon.

“Turkey sandwiches?” An authentic chuckle came out of him, one of those laughs that comes from deep within and you knew he felt much better about today.

You affectionately rubbed his leg, giving him a soft smile and looking to him with adoration as your chin leaned against his shoulder.

“Thanks for this” he smiled, making eye contact with the three of you briefly.

“This was all her idea” Neelam motioned to you.

“I went and got the sandwiches though” Urban joked, earning a soft elbow to the side from Neelam.

“Happy Thanksgiving baby” you whispered before leaning in for a kiss.

“Happy Thanksgiving baby” he mumbled against your lips in return.

#Jack Harlow #Jack Harlow x reader #jack harlow concepts #jack harlow imagines #jack harlow blurb #Jack Harlow fan fic

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chrollohearttags · 11 months

Text

super freaky girl • mikasa ackerman

I’d like to think nail tech!mikasa is a true freak and that she sort of corrupted (y/n) along the way. 🤭

content warning: fem x fem, black reader, public stuff, oral sex, slight a$$ play, mentions of alcohol, masturbation, tribbing/scissoring, use of toys, squirting, fingering, lots of sub!mika and just a whole lotta of nasty shit.

📝: I really had an out of body experience writing this. I love this woman so bad and she brought out some filthy reactions in me this morning 🥴 so y’all enjoy.

The type of girl that would go out clubbing with you, down a few shots, let you dance on her only to be devouring you in the bathroom with your hands clawing the sink that you’re sitting on. Telling you to run the water so that no one hears how loud you’re moaning for her as she mashes her tongue ring to your clit and draws out slow strings of saliva with a smirk on her face. Both alcohol and cunt drunk..craving your taste more than anything. The type to tell you to send her photos of your new nail set she just did for her…collection. And not just any regular hand poses. Your hands resting on your asscheeks as they spread apart and those coffin tips are front and center. (she lovesss when you send her videos of you with your little heart anal plug in as well) when you use them to spread yourself open and she catches a glimpse of that pink core, along with the slick wrapping around them. Pulling it up in webs across your fingertips. “Is that all for me, beautiful?” “Of course.” Or those pretty white toes on either side, dangling midair with the anklet of her initials and that fat pussy in the middle of the shot. She’s probably got a ton saved in a special folder and when she needs some alone time from taking clients, she most certainly enjoys herself in the comfort of her office at the sight of them. Teasing her about her lack of restraint and resolve. “You’re such a pervert.” “You knew this when you met me.” Rubbing herself through her own thin panties as she whimpers for you, so sweet and pathetically..she’d also allow you to sit in the shop one day, just helping check customers out on one of your off days, and sits in one of the pedicure chairs while lightly tapping at your phone. Because she insisted that you use a Lush on her while she’s working. Edging herself along like a true sadist, just wringing around in that chair while she attempts to hold herself together. The frequencies increasing gradually until she finally reaches a breaking point and not a moment too soon, when she finishes her last client for the day and she literally begs you to fuck her! “Please…I can’t hold it..” “I know, baby..I know.” Quelling her cries as you finger that sweet little center of hers in the front seat of her tinted G Wagon; your mouth suctioning around her big, plump tits right there in the parking lot because neither of you could be vexed to make it to the house. Flicking your tongue around her excessively swollen clit..so sensitive that she might come undone with one brush. Putting your hand around Mika’s throat, rendering her a bit breathless while she thrashes around on those two short digits that she left short on purpose. Drooling all over herself and practically going dumb from the overstimulation. Making a literal mess because she’s such a heavy creamer. Loving when you lap it up and let her taste herself. “Ooh…good girl. Come for me, you did so good waiting all day, baby..” inconsolable by the time you’re done.

but it’s nothing compared to when you did arrive home and you have space, privacy and all the toys you desire at your disposal and you’re both fucking your double sided dildo, scissoring and tribbing, massaging those pretty little clots together..even fucking those silicone cocks as Mika pins her legs back in her Kuromi themed gaming chair that you got as a gift, toes curled up as she impales herself on that toy. So damn tight, she can barely take it past the tip but it’s all she needs to get herself off; leaking those frothy, milk like juices all down the leather material..eventually seeping into your mouth as you wait patiently on the floor to drink it up. “Let me squirt in that pretty mouth, baby.. ‘m so fucking wet for you..” her little voice so high pitched from the sensation of being fucked to literal tears. Drawing two orgasms back to back from her body. “Oh fuck!..” legs trembling and practically useless from that point on. So the two of you switch places, where she’s happy to serve as your receptacle for all those sweet liquids. Getting doused in your cum and slurping it up like your adorable little puppy. On all fours with her thick ass in the air, even teasing you with a vibrator while you’re pounding yourself. “You can give me more than that, can’t you?” When she’s like this, there’s no stopping her, honestly. The two of you could fuck for hours on end if it were possible but it’s only when you close the night out by riding one another’s faces before you find yourself giving her rough strokes with a strap on, fucking her into total submission and eventually unconsciousness. Tiring her out after what seemed like five rounds..yeah, it’s serious fucking with Mikasa.

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princessaxoxo · 5 months

Text

Thanksgiving

August Walker x Reader

Summary: August has you over for thanksgiving.

Warnings: 18+ Only, NSFW, unprotected sex (p in v), oral (f receiving), pet names, some food play, fluff, age gap, vulgar language

Wordcount: 930

A/N: Had this in mind for weeks but things got a bit chaotic in my personal life so it is a bit rushed. So sorry. 😣

A spread of Thanksgiving delicacies and candlelight covered August's dining table as you were squirming in your seat across from him. Although you had been alone with him before, this was the first time he had asked you to his place with such boldness.

“Which one do you prefer?” He pointed at the turkey and ham. “Oh, um, the turkey,” you awkwardly replied. Internally, you were scolding yourself.

August took your plate and placed a turkey slice on it. When your plate was placed in front of you again, part of the food was on the edges since you didn't want to be impolite and refuse any of the food he had prepared. “It looks delicious, August."

As you began eating your food, halfway, you noticed August hadn’t touched his. “Why aren’t you eating?"

August took notice of your nervous mannerisms since the beginning of the night. “Why are you fidgeting?” You looked away from his eyes and dropped your utensil. He leaned across the table and raised your face so you would look at him. “Tell me.” His light-hearted question has now turned into a demand.

“Well, we’ve never done this.” His eyebrows scrunched together in confusion. “What do you mean?"

“This is intimate. Well, we have been intimate before, but this is a different type of intimacy. It’s romantic. This is different for us.” You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. August sat back in his chair and chuckled.

“It’s not funny!” You huffed and crossed your arms.

“Oh, I don't think it's humorous, baby. I simply don't understand why you withheld your concerns from me. I am aware that this is unusual for us because we haven't been able to go on the kind of date that I had hoped for. However, the fact that it will be our first Thanksgiving spent together makes it more special.”

Suddenly, all the nerves you held floated away.

August took a few steps around the table before bringing out the chair beside you. He kissed your hand after grasping it.

"This is really special, and I'm glad it's with you. Thank you for doing all of this." You said before giving him a kiss that started out as affectionate but quickly turned hungry. "Suddenly, none of this food appeals to me."

“But you made all of it. It shouldn’t go to waste.” He nodded his head, and you could tell he had an idea. “It won’t go to waste, princess.”

You watched as he brought the bowl filled with mashed potatoes closer. It suddenly became clear to you what he was intending to do. “You’re going to eat the food off of me?"

August started to take your dress off your body, and you allowed him to. "Indeed, I am. After all, it's Thanksgiving. We must be grateful and eat until we put on ten pounds." He paused to give you a kiss on the inside of your thigh. "This is what I'm thankful for—this wonderful food. And above all, you."

As you bit your lip, you saw him apply mashed potatoes to both sides of your inner thighs before starting to eat them off of you. When you felt him sucking and twirling his tongue around, pleasure took over you.

Moans effortlessly left you as you grasped your breasts and pinched your nipples. He applied another sheer coat of mashed potatoes to your cunt, and you soon felt the feel of his tongue pressing against your clit.

His formerly brilliant blue eyes were bursting with desire as you gazed down at him. His tongue lapsed and sucked until you were a wailing mess that was coming apart. “God, August.”

He kissed his way up to your mouth. “Get undressed now,” you demanded of him. He tore his clothes off in a rush. And, thoughtlessly lifted you and placed you down on the table. August lifted the cranberry sauce and poured it over your breasts. When he began to suck and twirl his tongue over your nipples, groans fell from his lips.

“August, I need you inside me.”

His face held a wicked smile. “You want me inside of you, princess? Want to feel all of me?"

“Yes, please.”

With rapidity, he lunged inside you, and your legs encircled his waist. His sac struck your ass with each push. As you bent in to give him a kiss, you noticed how his muscles strained with every thrust.

You encircled his neck firmly with your arms, and he enveloped his powerful arms beneath your thighs. When he pressed you against the wall and invaded you, you were able to feel him more deeply. With every push, his cock grazed your g-spot.

Your come covered his cock. “My good girl, covering me with her come.”

With your mouth hanging open and your eyes shut, you became mute as the pounding intensified. He gripped your face tightly. "Look at me; I must see that stunning face of yours as I come into you."

His body began to jerk as his seed filled you.

August's head rested on the bend of your neck while you both tried to breathe again. Once he was breathing normally again, he took a look at you and let out a little laugh. “What is it?” you questioned him.

"There's food in your hair," he said, moving your hair away from your face.

You chuckled hysterically and touched his face before speaking. "Happy Thanksgiving, baby."

"Honey, happy Thanksgiving." He kissed you several times over your face after giving you a quick peck on the lips.

Taglist: @shellyshellshell @chloe92 @identity2212 @juliaorpll78 @armystay89

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waywardxwords · 7 months

Text

Family, Friends and Loved Ones

Summary: You make it home for Thanksgiving to see your family again, bringing Sam and Dean with you.

Pairing: Sam Winchester x Female Reader

Word Count: ~1.6k

Warnings: Slight language, fluff!

A/N: Day 2 of the #flufftober2023 (@flufftober) prompt challenge! The prompt is: Friends, Family, Loved Ones. Side note: if you are on my tag list, I am planning/attempting to post once a day during the month of October. I know that's a lot of tags and mentions, so if you'd like to be removed you can do so through the Tag List linked in my bio.

I hope you enjoy!

Fall was undeniably your most favorite time of the year. You loved everything about it—the changing leaves, the cooler weather, but especially the food: turkey, mashed potatoes, sweet potato casserole (and Dean's favorite, pie). Brown and yellow leaves passed by as you looked out the back window of the Impala.

“I’m just so excited!” You could hardly contain yourself. It had been far too long since you had made a trip home. While your parents and family understood, they missed you–and you missed them. Life as a hunter was complicated and confusing at times, but you grew up in a family of hunters. Your father considered himself retired now, but he always jumped back in if a job stumbled upon him. “I love Thanksgiving so much.”

Sam flashed you a small smile over his shoulder from the front passenger seat. He looked back to the road before he spoke. “I don’t think I’ve ever had a real Thanksgiving.” He murmured as he watched the passing trees and cow fields.

“Oh, bullshit,” Dean bickered back. He looked from the road to his younger brother, then back again. “We’ve had plenty of Thanksgivings.”

Sam’s brow knitted together as he contemplated. “I don’t know, man. I don’t remember the last time we had an actual Thanksgiving dinner–turkey, stuffing, the whole nine yards.”

“Yeah, well, your memory’s shit,” Dean mumbled under his breath.

You rolled your eyes but leaned forward in the seat to point ahead. “See that road there? Turn right,” you instructed. Dean nodded as he whipped the Impala around the corner. “It’s the first house on the left.”

The excitement from seeing your family again was taking a toll on you, and you felt yourself almost wiggle against the seat as your house came into view. It took a lot of strength to suppress a squeal–you could feel Dean’s judgment without him even looking at you–but kept your hand on the door handle, ready to throw it open as soon as the car lulled to a stop.

“Baby!” Your mother was already halfway down the steps leading off of the front porch. The smile that spread across her lips was one you hadn’t seen in a long time, even on FaceTime. She had always worried so much about you hunting, even though she’d said she understood.

“Mama,” you breathed as she embraced you. The scent of her shampoo and light perfume instantly calmed you in a way no one else could, except maybe Sam.

As you remembered the man you had been with for over a year behind you, you pulled from her grasp and beamed up at him. “Mama, this is Sam Winchester. And that’s his brother, Dean.”

“Sam,” she smiled a smile that reached her eyes. “It’s so good to finally meet you.” She embraced him tightly, just as she had you.

“It’s really nice to meet you, too,” he hugged her back and grinned at you over her shoulder.

“Well, come on, now,” she drawled at Dean. He emitted a chuckle as he made his way around the Impala and gave her a friendly hug.

“Thanks for having us,” Sam called as you pulled your duffel bag from the backseat. Sam took it from you almost instantly, which made your heart feel warm.

“Any friends of my baby are always welcome,” she gleamed. “Come on inside, your daddy is out back with your brother and sister.”

After the boys gathered their own duffel bags, the three of you followed your mother up the steps leading into the house. You hadn’t realized how much you had missed the smell of home until you smelled it: warm cinnamon mixed with the sweet potato casserole your mom had in the oven. It brought a sense of peace over you that you hadn’t felt in a while.

Just as you entered the kitchen, the back door opened and you heard the familiar voice of your younger brother. “Look what the cat dragged in,” he grinned as he approached.

You managed the initial introductions—Sam and Dean seemed to fit in better than you expected. Sam wouldn’t say the words, but you could tell he was nervous. You caught him rub the palms of his hands down his jeans twice to get the stickiness from nervous sweat off. But he didn’t need to be; your family was just really glad to see you, and they had heard such great things about the boys.

“So, you and my daughter, huh?” Your Dad couldn’t help but bring up over the noise of the TV in the background.

“Yes, sir,” Sam said. His voice sounded strong, but you knew better. “I’m sure you weren’t thrilled she decided to date a hunter.” He cleared his throat a little and broke eye contact with your dad, but only for a second.

“You would think that, right?” Your dad chuckled as he looked down at the bottle of beer in his hand. “You’re not completely wrong. When the kids were growin’ up, I would tell their mother they better choose a normal life. School, then marry someone regular, like an accountant, or somethin’,” Sam’s gaze fell again as your dad spoke. “But my wife kindly reminded me that this life was all they knew. And I’d be real lucky to have my kids meet partners that understood this life; people they didn’t have to hide from and could be totally honest with. People that would help keep ‘em safe.” His voice dropped a bit as he said his last sentence. He toyed with the beer bottle in his hand before he made eye contact with Sam once more. The tone of his voice made a bubble of emotion form in the back of your throat.

Sam nodded his head once but made sure he made eye contact with your dad as he said, “I promise you I will do whatever I can to keep her safe.”

Your Dad nodded as he studied Sam’s face. “I can tell you mean that, son.”

Sam excused himself and made his way over to where you had watched inconspicuously from the doorway leading from the dining room to the kitchen. He grinned down at you as he approached, not afraid to snake his arm around your waist slightly. You looked up to him, raising your head in a way that told him you were waiting for a kiss. He obliged, giving you a quick peck.

“That went well,” you murmured softly as he pulled away.

“Yeah,” he chuckled and glanced back where your Dad sat at the table, already enveloped in the pre-game festivities on the TV he could see in the living room. “You have a really great family. I’m surprised you chose to hunt with us instead.” He cocked his head to the side as he searched your face to try to understand why you chose them; or why you chose him.

“Well, not to sound like a typical girl or anything,” you rolled your eyes playfully and heaved a dramatic sigh. “But there’s kinda this guy…”

“Oh, yeah?” Sam grinned as he matched your playful tone. You took a second to bask in the glow of his joy. “Tell me about him.”

“Oh, you’d love him,” you kept up the ruse as you brought one hand up to a button on his flannel, his fingers still splayed across your lower back. “He’s super smart, he went to Stanford, you know? But more than that, he’s kind, he’s loving, and he’s super attractive. Oh! And very, very tall.”

A slight rose color rose to Sam’s cheeks as he broke eye contact for a second, the grin still stretched across his face. “Super tall, huh?”

“Oh yeah, gigantic,” you emphasized the word as you inched closer to his face.

“Alright, alright,” he cut you off with another quick kiss. “I love you, too.” He beamed as he pulled back and met your gaze. This time it was your turn for the heat to reach your cheeks. Only a moment later, you heard your mom’s voice from the kitchen.

“Okay, kids! Dinner’s just about ready,” she called out to the other areas of the house to gather everyone. You all made your way to the kitchen. Sam wasn’t afraid to stand behind you with his arms wrapped loosely around your waist—he knew he had gotten the okay from your father and that he fit right in. You were happy to see Dean talking with your brother; it was probably about hunting, but that was okay. It was at least someone to talk to.

As you all stood around your family’s kitchen, you took a moment to observe. Your Mom laughed at something Dean said, which caused him to break into a smile you hadn’t seen from the man in a very long time. Your Dad conversed with Sam–thankfully not about hunting, but rather pre-law and what his college experience at Stanford was like. Your sister and brother bickered over who would win the big game, and while you wouldn’t voice it, your money was on the Cowboys. As your eyes traveled around the room, you felt Sam’s fingers reach around your hand and give a gentle squeeze. You moved to look back into his hazel gaze and realized your eyes had glassed over while taking it all in.

“Everything okay?” His voice was low as he observed the emotions across your face.

You nodded and brought your fingertips up just under your eyes to wipe away any stray tears. “Everything is perfect.” He leaned to you and gave you a quick peck, making your smile grow and your heart warm even more. And everything was perfect. Because what more could you ask for? You had your family, friends and loved ones all together–you were thankful.

Thank you so much for taking the time to read, I hope you enjoyed it!

Tag List: @hallecarey1 @zepskies @lacilou

#flufftober2023 #flufftober 2023 #02 #supernatural fan fic #supernatural fanfiction #spn fanfiction #supernatural fanfic #supernatural ff #spn fanfic #spn ff #sam winchester x female reader #sam winchester one shot #sam winchester fan fic #sam winchester fan fiction #sam winchester fanfiction #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester x you

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manicformunson · 2 years

Note

Could you write a rough dirty smut on Eddie making the reader squirt for the first time and it was his first time doing that to a girl. Lots of choking and hair pulling UGH oh and if you wanna add them totally getting caught and he just doesn’t give a fuck and keeps going ily

lovin' you's a dirty job

pairing eddie munson x fem!plussize!reader

summary eddie just found out that he now had to repeat senior year for a fourth time and was pretty upset about it. coincidentally he was fuck buddies with the principal's daughter

note im a horny slut and absolutely love the idea of eddie mocking the reader in a sweet voice :p

Eddie was angry, annoyed, pissed off. He worked extra hard this year too make sure he passed but the principal had a personal vendetta against him and made the excuse he had to many absences. No shit he was being blamed for murder, Eddie had assumed that would've been excused.

He was fuming.

It wasn't until he saw Y/N flash him a pretty smile did he get an idea, one that would really show Principle Higgins who he was messing with.

After school let out Y/N and Eddie met outside of Principle Higgins' office, both giddy and maybe a little anxious -- but that was before Y/N grabbed his hand and laid down on the big desk in the middle of the room and spread her pretty legs.

Eddie's brain was mush as soon as she flashed her cute little panties. He dropped down to his knees after taking them off and her hands tangling themselves in his hair and burying his face in-between her plushy thighs.

He moaned and let her use his face how she wanted and traced his two fingers outside her wet hole before thrusting them into her tight little pussy roughly.

"Jesus fuck." Y/N cried; she held his head in place with her thighs, not bothering on being quiet as he paid extra attention to her clit.

It wasn't until Eddie dug his fingers nails down her hip did her stomach drop and whole body began to shake, coating Eddie's face and desk with her cum. Eddie was stunned, looking between her and the mess on the desk.

"Shit baby, did you, did you just squirt?" He pulled himself up off the floor and running his fingers through the puddle on the shiny wood; Y/N was fucking embarrassed, she'd never done that before -- never even knew she could.

She covered her red face and immediately started apologizing, "I'm sorry! I didn't even know I could! I've never-" Eddie cut her off, grabbing her arm and pulling her towards him before mashing their lips together.

Y/N moaned at the feeling of her own wetness on his lips as well as his dick pressing against her hip. "That was fucking hot, think we can make you do it again?"

Eddie smirked against her lips, staring down at her hooded eyes and fucked out expression; when she didn't respond, he grabbed a fist full of her hair, "I asked you a question sweetheart."

Y/N gasped, eyes widening at his sudden dominance and smiling, "Yes, fuck yes."

Her face was suddenly shoved into the desk, in the puddle she had made as Eddie was hurrying himself out of his jeans. Y/N help but whine, sticking out her tonuge.

"Goddamn."

Eddie held her head against the desk, moving it so her tonuge was flat against the desk, licking up her own juices. She moaned loud when she felt his dick between her wet folds and wiggled her hips.

He slapped her ass hard, slowly sliding his cock between her lips and leaned down to bite her ear. "How do you think your daddy would feel about trailer park trash treatin' you like this baby? Like a dirty whore?"

Y/N couldn't speak, couldn't make sense of really anything other than him being so close to where she needed him; she only cried, trying to maneuver her hips to push him inside of her -- that earned another slap from Eddie.

"So greedy for my dick. Jesus," He laughed against her neck. He slapped his dick against her awaiting pussy and smirked as it clenched around nothing. "Being so good, fuck."

"Please." Y/N moaned out, drooling in the puddle. She was an absolute mess and Eddie couldn't have been more proud seeing her like this -- absolutely cock drunk.

Eddie loosened the grip in her hair to pat her lovingly, "Poor baby, just need my dick that bad? Need me to fuck you hm?" He mocked, only finally pushing in when she nodded.

Y/N gasped, eyes crossing and tonuge dropping out of her mouth when Eddie didn't hesitate to start a rough pace. She reached around to try to touch him, she needed to touch him. Eddie knew this and decided to grant her silent plea, releasing her head and taking her hand.

The obscene sounds of the desk screeching across the floor, their bodies beating against each other and Eddie's moans in her ear had her snaking her free hand down to her clit.

"Yeah babe, fucking - shit - fucking touch yourself."

Eddie was gasping out words but Y/N was too far gone to understand them, only whining at him. He was grasping her hip, moaning at a nice red hand print on her ass when the door flew open.

Principal Higgins was standing there, shocked at the scene before him and locking eyes with Eddie who just smirked and grabbed Y/N's hair to yank her head up. Eddie being the sadist he is wanted him to know just who he was fucking and Y/N could only squeeze her eyes as her jaw went slack.

The door closed fast than it had opened, making Eddie throw his head back and laugh before yanking Y/N's head back to meet his lips. "Just got caught by your fuckin' daddy and you couldn't even stop thrusting back on my dick."

"Need to, need to cum." Y/N cried, tears streaming down her wet cheeks. Eddie smiled down at her, "Okay baby, let's make you squirt again. Can you do that?" Y/N nodded desperately back.

Eddie hooked an arm underneath one of her legs and held it up to his chest, pressing his other right above her hips. He kept his brutal assault against her needy pussy and whispered encouraging praises, "Keep touching yourself, god you're so fucking good to me."

Y/N felt her stomach tighten once again, and tried to warn Eddie that she was cumming but it got lost when bit down on her shoulder. Y/N was chanting his name loudly as her hips moved to meet his before squirting all over him.

It was the hottest thing Eddie had ever experienced. He barely had time to register his dick twitch before pulling out and emptying his seed on her ass.

Eddie sat in the leather chair they had previously pushed aside and pulled Y/N into his lap. She put up no resistance, collapsing on him and laying her head on his shoulder.

"I think you might be in trouble." He giggled against her hair. Y/N just shrugged, "Fuck him."

#eddie munson #stranger things #joseph quinn #eddie munson x reader #eddie stranger things #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fic #eddie munson x reader smut #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x female reader smut #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x you smut #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x plus size reader

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dreamersbcll · 5 months

Text

Holidaze

let love grow

(the core four friendsgiving we all deserve)

——————————————————————————

“Do you even know how to cook a turkey?”

Sam paused her search for the basting pan -she could’ve sworn she had one- to sigh and roll her eyes. Tara had been second-guessing her decisions since they decided to throw this “Friendsgiving feast” that the twins thought of.

New York was a year ago. They were far away, in a new city, with all their friends nearby. It seemed like a good idea to host a family get-together.

Up until Tara’s sudden culinary degree kicked in.

Her sister frowned. “Yeah, but that doesn’t mean you know how to cook.”

Snagging the basting dish, Sam pulled back, slamming the counter door shut. “Tara, go get the vegetables out.”

Tara saluted Sam, heading to the fridge. “Sure thing, Chef Ramsey.”

Meanwhile, Sam got lost in her prep haze. She had to clean the turkey, season it, and cut the vegetables. Tara would need to mash the potatoes and make the biscuits from a can. It all had to be done within the next six hours.

Humming, Sam set up the cutting board and grabbed her favorite knife. She almost didn’t notice that Tara had sidled up next to her.

She turned to face Tara, knife in one hand, a head of celery in the other. “What’s up, baby?”

Her little sister shrugged, her eyes fixated on the cutting board. “Can you show me?” she asked in the quietest, most timid voice.

Sam couldn’t help the smile that spread across her face. She would do anything for that sweet little girl she knew and loved so well.

Nodding, Sam lined up the vegetables, making room for Tara to stand next to her. “Okay, first, we line 'em all up like this…”

—

Before the two knew it, it was already time for the rest of the group to come. First, Gale arrived, already buzzed, holding bags of chips.

“You really wanted me to cook?” she snarkily said, throwing the chips at a disgruntled Tara.

Sidney came later on, holding a couple of homemade pies. Tara’s eyes lit up with joy at the sight. She was always smitten with a good apple pie. Sam should’ve made one.

Eventually, the twins arrived thirty minutes late, both kids gripping heaping food containers and several bottles of wine. Sam grinned wide at the sight, reaching out to grasp the precarious bottle that dangled in Chad’s hand…

…Only for it to slip and spill all over Sam’s shirt.

The room went silent, the laughter dying out. Everybody froze at the sight of the wine-stained shirt, Sam’s wine-stained shirt.

Without thinking, Sam turned and bolted for the bathroom, Tara following suit.

——-

“Stupid. So fucking stupid,” Sam hissed, dabbing at the wine splotches on her shirt.

It took everything in her not to taste the wine-stained fabric.

Fuck. Her mouth was watering, and her head was cloudy. Did wine always smell that good? Was that Chardonnay? She loved Chardonnay. Maybe just a taste. One lick. She’s done worse for a hit.

But she knows. Oh god, does she know what one dab, line, and drink could do. Down the rabbit hole into the darkness, she barely crawled out alive the last time.

That had just survived New York. She couldn’t do this to the group— especially not her little girl. It would tear them apart. Sam couldn’t survive being the reason that breaks her family.

All over a stupid bottle of spilled wine, all over her shirt.

Once an addict, always an addict.

“It’s just alcohol. Just fruit juice. For adults. It’s not a big deal. Fucking snap out of it, Sam,” she cussed.

But it wouldn’t go away.

“Stop it. Stop fucking thinking of that. Grow up. Grow fucking up!”

“Sam?”

Shit. Tara.

“It’s okay, baby. I’m almost done here—just a spill. Be out in a minute,” Sam called, trying to suppress the anxiety rising within her.

“Let me in.”

That wasn’t a question. It was a command. Without thinking, Sam unlocked the door and let her sister in.

Tara walked in slowly, surveying the bathroom. One look at Sam, and she could tell that Tara knew. Sam’s frantic hair, her wild eyes, her shaking hands— all pointed to an alcoholic freaking out over a spilled drink.

Without saying anything, Tara held out a hand, asking for the wine-soaked rag in Sam’s hand. Sam handed it to her without thinking, afraid of the stoic look on Tara’s face.

As Tara took it, pursing her lips, Sam needed to back down. She was too much. Too raw. She had to reel it in. “It’s fine, it’s just-”

“Let me help you,” Tara said, cutting Sam off before she could continue babbling.

Sam snapped her mouth shut. “Okay.”

Tara hummed, turning on the tap to wet the rag. The two watched the faucet run, the noise of the water filling the buzzing in Sam’s head.

Her little sister started to wash the shirt, her lips in a tight line. “I understand, you know. I told them to keep it away from you. Don’t worry. I’ve got you, too,” Tara whispered.

Bowing her head, Sam conceded. Of course, her little sister knew. She always knew. How could Sam ever forget?

“Thank you, my love.”

Tara paused from wiping off Sam’s shirt, and before Sam could react, she darted forward, kissing Sam’s cheek. Before Sam could say anything, Tara was out of the room, closing the door behind her.

Sam turned back to the mirror, noticing the fresh shirt and bra left on the countertop, neatly folded. Next to it was a garbage bag, the message clear.

Trash the shirt. We can replace it. We can’t replace you.

Who was Sam to argue with her little sister?

——

Once Sam finally exited the bathroom, she found everybody sitting at the dinner table, anxiously awaiting her arrival. Steaming food was strewn across the tabletop, napkins folded neatly on each plate. Soft murmurs of conversation stopped once Sam got to the table, the only sound being the flickering of candles Tara had lit.

Upon seeing Sam’s new outfit, Chad winced, his mouth open comically wide. Apparent panic and remorse were reflected in his eyes, and everyone else around the table looked somber.

He stood up, his hands up in surrender. “Shit, Sam, I’m so sorry, I wasn’t thinking-”

Sam waved him off, calming him down with a small smile. “It’s okay. Let’s just sit down and eat, yeah?”

Chad smiled gratefully, mouthing thank you. Sam just nodded and sat at the head of the table, surveying the people around her. Sidney was at her left, Mindy at her right. Across from her was Tara, looking at Sam with such soft and gentle concern that it made her heart ache.

I love you, she mouthed.

Tara smiled at her, eyes shining. I love you, too.

With her heart now full and her stomach empty, Sam clapped her hands, suddenly excited to eat. “Well, what do healthy families do at dinner?”

“Say grace?” Mindy suggested, clasping her hands together.

Chad nodded enthusiastically while Gale shrugged. “Couldn’t hurt,” the woman remarked, taking another swig of her drink.

Sam nodded. “Yeah, alright. Who wants to do it?”

The group all looked at one another, raising eyebrows and silently asking someone to step up.

“I will,” Tara said, looking at Sam pointedly.

That’s her girl. That’s her Tara.

“Okay, baby. Go ahead,” she softly said, smiling at her girl.

Tara smiled at the name, her dimples popping. Sidney held out a hand for Tara to take, the rest of the group reaching out and clasping hands together. Sam watched her little sister bow her head, everyone else following suit. Only when she saw her little sister close her eyes did Sam also bow her head.

“Well, after all we’ve been through, I’m not sure if there’s a God,” Tara began, pausing for the giggles and murmurs to die down.

“But I do believe in family. And the people around me are the best family I’ve ever known. I wouldn’t trade anything in the world for them. I love them all, and I would do nothing,”

“That being said, I want to say how thankful I am for my big sister. Sam is the strongest person I’ve ever known, and I believe in her like one would in God. She is the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and I wouldn’t trade her for anything in the world.”

“Uh, amen?” Chad said.

The group broke apart, giggling and sniffling. Chad reached over to dig into the roast while Mindy started handing out napkins, Sidney and Gale topping off their drinks.

While the table was alive with conversation and movement, all Sam could do was take in the girl across from her in all her glory. Her little girl was something to behold. Such a powerful and beautiful girl she was, with potential that would surely leave a mark on the world in a good way- unlike the Loomis blood that tainted Sam’s reputation.

She wonders if Tara knows how much she loves her and how she would move heaven and earth to make her smile. She would kill again for her little sister.

Instead of moving to dish up food, Tara was doing the same thing, just watching her big sister.

Tara and Sam just watched each other, thousands of words left unsaid in the air.

It didn’t matter. They had each other. That was all that needed to be said.

#scream #sam carpenter #tara carpenter #carpenter sisters #the core four!#AU: protect my heart #soft and somber #found family <3 #scream vi

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kallietell · 5 months

Text

A Thanksgiving Challenge

Another Flash Fiction:) After absolutely butchering the first thanksgiving dinner she ever hosted, Francine is on a mission to make sure next year's meal is the best her family has ever had. Practice makes perfect…right?

“And this is the ham?” Aunt Abigail asked with trepidation, poking the suspicious looking mystery meat with a serving fork. “No,” says Francine, voice quavering. “It’s the turkey.” Everyone’s eyes at the table widened, and there was a silence.

“Why…” started her mother cautiously in a tone better suited for a hostage negotiator looking to keep a bank robber calm. “Why is it pink?”

Francine burst into tears and sprang up, her chair clattering backwards loudly as she ran towards the bathroom with her face in her hands. It was her first thanksgiving ever, her first time hosting her whole family, and the entire spread was inedible. Her house was perfectly decorated, she had alcohol and games, but she’d massively underestimated how hard it would be to prepare the traditional exorbitant spread.

It’s just cooking, she thought. How hard could it be? Little did she know that the preparation of a turkey alone is a multi step process, a process that apparently cannot be started the day you plan to cook the bird. Wednesday night at 7pm she was staring down a counter full of unmade sides and a turkey that was frozen solid, so she knew it was time to get creative. She combined several recipes, she cooked dishes at a higher heat for a shorter amount of time, she added extra sugar to everything to make it taste good, and yes, maybe one or two things had burned. Maybe three. Four if you count the rolls. Without a moment to spare, she’d set the table with the questionable dishes, attempting to turn them and finesse the dinner's presentation to put its best face forward. She’d hardly been able to take the looks from her family as they filed into the dining room, the disgust and concern not easily (or willingly) concealed. She’d held it together through her grandmother's family prayer, but as soon as the moment came to dig in and no one moved a muscle, a flood of tears welled precariously behind her eyes.

“Franny,” called her mother's voice, knocking lightly on the locked door as Francine cried. Her hands were balled into fist and pressed into her eyes as she sat on the lid of the closed toilet in the dark. “Franny, really love, it’s ok! Everything is great Franny, I tried the mashed potatoes and they're super great!”

“I didn’t make any mashed potatoes!” Francine wailed, dissolving into further hysterics.

“Francine…” her mother pleaded helplessly, pressing her palm flat against the door as if her daughter could feel the comfort from her touch. “Francine sweetie, it’s ok. You’re good at so many things. And the house looks beautiful. And you’ve been doing so much at work. Really, it was too much to expect you to cook it all yourself.”

“But you cook it all yourself,” Francine sniffled accusingly, finally opening the door to reveal snot stained sleeves and a tear stained face. “Oh Franny,” her mother replied unconvincingly, wrapping the young woman in a tight hug. “It’s ok.”

“It’s just, I started prepping too late,” Francine explained, her voice beginning to quaver again as she let her head settle into her mothers shoulder. “I can do it. I swear, I can do it.”

“I know you could Francine,” soothes her mother gently, rubbing her back.

“No, really,” says Francine with a start, pulling back slightly from her mothers embrace. “I’m going to. I’m gonna do Thanksgiving next year, and I’m going to do it perfectly.” She sets her mouth in determination, noting with dejection the marked lack of the sounds of forks and plates coming from the other room. “I’m gonna make the perfect thanksgiving dinner next year.”

“Sweetie…” begins her mother hesitantly, but Francine cuts her off with a hand. “No mom, I have to.”

Her mother sighs, considers, and aquiesses. “I’ll tell your grandmother.” She gives her a smile lacking in conviction. “I’m sure it’ll be great next year sweetheart,” she says, patting her hand. “Shall we just order pizza for now?” Francine looked down, ears burning. Next year, it was going to be different.

Francine took her promise seriously, committing herself wholly to her flavorful new field of study. She was determined to make the best Thanksgiving food anyone in her family had ever eaten, and she was more than willing to do whatever it took. She read recipes, watched endless YouTube videos, and visited restaurant after restaurant to try different dishes, bringing along a small notebook to jot details of the meal she didn’t want to forget. She practiced endlessly, and slowly the burnt pans that filled her sinks every Saturday, her designated cooking day, were replaced by empty pans scraped of their delicious contents. She was getting good. Almost too good. The constant fixation on food had increased her appetite significantly, and between her rapidly improving cooking and her newfound penchant for snacks, Francine found herself beginning to grow.

The first 20 pounds left her with ample curves, but by the next 20 she was dangerously thick, her widened ass threatening to shred the few remaining pairs of pants she could still button. She was fully aware that she was putting on weight and had resolved to lose it after next year's Thanksgiving triumph, but her rounded figure was getting harder and harder to ignore. She was starting to develop the beginnings of a chubby potbelly and her ass had exploded, its fatty shelf wobbling obscenely at the slightest movement.

After popping a button in her weekly cooking class, she finally caved and bought new clothes, skipping the next size up for one two sizes larger with the rationale that she wanted to dress more modestly anyways. The new clothes were anything but modest, and clung to her fattening body suggestively as she struggled to cover her tummy’s ever burgeoning swell. She was hyper focused on her goal, her pride driving her to forgo all other cares with the single minded goal of cooking like a world class chef.

March passed, then April. As the weather warmed Francine was forced to buy new clothes for a second time, her old summer shorts so tight she couldn’t even force them up her plush, thickening thighs. She bought the clothes in an even larger size, now officially 3 sizes up in just a few months. She acknowledged this absentmindedly, mentally writing a grocery list for the meal she planned to cook that night.

She prepared a full thanksgiving feast at least once a week, and it was really beginning to show. She piled on another 30 pounds, the mashed potatoes that required equal parts butter and heavy cream and the dozens of fluffy dinner rolls she crammed down night after night doing an absolute number on her figure. Her food was getting better and better, and she nearly cried with joy the first time she pulled a perfectly golden, crispy skinned turkey from the oven (she’d nearly finished the turkey too). Her appetite was becoming insatiable, and she often convinced herself she needed to eat the entirety of a dish to make sure every bite was up to par. She ate tooth mumbling sweet serving bowls of candied yam nearly gritty with entire bags of sugar, trays of ham cooked in enough butter to need two cows, gooey mac and cheese oozing with lard, and every pie she could possibly conceptualize, even dreaming of new concoctions while she drove. She stopped relying as heavily on recipe books and instead aligned her cooking with what she enjoyed best, preparing the most calorie laden iterations of each side and entree.

As more months rolled on she grew larger, noticeably waddling as her ass and thighs expanded. She was forced to buy new clothes again and again as her swelling fat strained the seams, and leggings had become her go-to uniform after blowing the button on one too many pairs of jeans. She was too preoccupied with her new, all encompassing hobby to check how much she’d put on, but she’d solidly crossed the line into obesity, her ample belly pushing further and further into her lap each time she sat. She outgrew everything, and her office chair, kitchen chairs, and even the love seat in her living room had needed to be replaced. Her hips had just grown too wide and she was struggling to wedge herself in, grunting and panting with the effort as her fattening meal waited for her. She’d replaced the chairs without dwelling too much on what it meant, snacking on pork rinds as she’d shopped online for something studier. I could lose weight any time I want, she thought, brushing the crumbs from her fingers on the side of her protruding belly. I only have one chance to show everybody up this year.

August passed, then September. A comment she’d seen on Facebook about ‘Francine’s little situation last year’ had ignited a new fire within her and she was cooking like mad, her recipe and technique for each dish nearing perfection. She was swelling faster and faster and was shocked at how large she looked every time she waddled past a mirror. Her gut had finally succumbed to gravity and hung lightly, exaggerating her stomach’s wobble as it swung unconfined by the bottom of her too-small shirts. Her entire body had exploded with soft fat, and even her arms were beginning to develop fatty, fleshy rolls. She refused to buy new bras, and her plump tits, still fairly perky, rested on the swell of her always stuffed gut. Her gut was as round as ever despite its droop, and she often pressed both hands against its sides when she was overly full, working out a few boisterous burps before giving it a gentle slap to relieve some of the pressure.

She ate constantly now, even when she was cooking, and the fat around her face was forming the swell of a double chin that rippled as she chewed. Even her fingers and toes were getting fat, and her pudgy digits were starting to look like stuffed sausages as she outgrew even her rings.

She’d just finished another hearty thanksgiving dinner, leaning back and patting her massive gut as she reflected that it was one of the best she’d ever made, when she realized that she’d left her second pumpkin pie on the counter. She leaned forward with a grunt, breathing more heavily as the swell of her belly pressed into her lungs when she bent, and heaved herself to her feet. It took her body several seconds to ease its wild jiggling, and she caught her breath from the effort of standing as the wobble slowed. She placed a hand on her gut instinctually, burped loudly, then waddled slowly to the kitchen, the second pie the only thing on her mind. The first was good, she thought lazily as she made her way to the rich dessert, but the second one might not be, you never know.

She reached the counter and grabbed the pie, waddled to the freezer and grabbed a gallon of ice cream, then made her way back to the chair, thousands of calories piled in her hands. She cracked open the ice cream and took a first giant scoop, moaning at the taste of the sweet, creamy vanilla despite already being packed full. She began to eat the ice cream faster and faster, digging into the pie with one hand while she gulped. She powered through a terrible bout of brain freeze by focusing solely on the pie, returning to guzzling the now melting ice cream only when the chill inside her head had subsided.

She finished both treats in a matter of minutes, licking the pie tin greedily as she groaned from over fullness. She was far too fat and lazy to haul herself onto the scale anymore, but her indulgences had packed over 50 more pounds onto her bloated frame, bringing her total weight gain for the year to 90 wobbling pounds. Her belly had surged impossibly far forward and she was burping non stop, the movement making her tits jiggle and bounce uncontrollably. She heaved herself forward with another grunt only to discover her fattened body barely budged. She gave it second go, heaving her mass forward with all her effort, but she realized quickly that she was stuck, beached by the seemingly impossible amount of food she’d stuffed into her porky belly. She lay one hand on her gut and let her eyes close, sleep suddenly overtaking her. At least the pie was good, she reasoned foggily as she slipped from wakefulness.

By the time the last Thursday in November rolled around, Francine couldn’t have been more prepared. The turkey had undergone a three day brining process, she’d made 16 different sides, there were 5 desserts, and the green beans with bacon bits were the best she’d ever made (although her preparation of the dish could more accurately be described as bacon with green beans bits). The table was set, the house was decorated, and a stretchy XXXL wrap dress was nearly painted onto Francine’s enormous body. The pressure of the approaching d-day had clearly invoked stress, stress she’d attempted to bury under a mountain of calories. She’d put on a grand total of 110 pounds in one year, the hundreds of thanksgiving dishes she’d prepared transforming into the swelling rolls of fat that threatened to burst out of the too small dress.

“Francine?” Her cousin had blurted in shock when she answered the door, stepping back to take in the newly enlarged proportions of the no longer familiar face.

“Franny? You look so…different,” her grandmother had questioned, hesitating as she realized that Francine would need to move in order to let her in as she was now wider than the doorway.

“She’s just been eating good,” dismissed her grandfather casually, giving Francine’s tubby gut a good natured pat as he placed a square pan covered in tinfoil in her arms. She flushes a bit, embarrassed at her soft wobble, and takes the dish with a smile, not letting slip that whatever her grandmother brought will pale in comparison to Francine’s michelin star quality feast.

As she welcomed more and more family, their reactions to the fatty waddling to greet them became more and more dramatic. Her aunt's mouth had simply fallen open, gaping so wide Francine could see her back molars, and her favorite cousin, the one with a certification in personal training, had pulled her to the side and discreetly pinched her rolls, assessing the damage while promising free workout sessions.

“Holy shit Francine, you exploded,” another cousin had let slip, his face flushing as he realized the abrasiveness of his statement. She simply gave a demure smile and waddled away, certain everything would be worth it once her family had eaten her cooking and their words.

Finally it came time to eat, and they were all seated exactly as they had been the year before, her grandmother leading a winding, rambling prayer for the group. This time however, eyes peaked open to marvel at the mouth watering spread before them, each dish looking more perfect and delectable than the last. The second Francine’s grandmother uttered the word amen dishes were passed, scooped from, and fought over as everyone filled their plates. Tears welled in Francine’s eyes again, this time from joy, and she joined in the ravenous ruckus, stacking her plate till it was teeming with greasy, delicious food. She smeared another pat of butter on her rolls and dug in, the only audible sound being the scraping of forks and contended chewing.

“This is delicious,” a cousin praised, breaking the silence, and the rest of the fell upon themselves joining in, praising the taste and presentation, asking for recipes for their favorites, and even remarking on the improvement from last year. The family enjoyed themselves enormously, all eating until they were too full to reach for the fork. Francine kept at it, ravenous from both relief and her newfound sense of gluttony as she put away plate after plate. She finally called it, panting as her belly strained outwards, testing the limits of her overtaxed dress. “I’m *hic* done.” She forces out. “Who wants dessert?”

Far too full to move, Francine directs her cousins to the kitchen to retrieve the expanse of sweets: 2 types of pie, a cake, brownies, and cookies. There was enough to feed a small army, and the spread of deserts covered the table almost as completely as the meal had. Everyone oohed and aahed, showering the bloated Francine in compliments as she smiled, stifling a burp.

“Before we get into the dessert,” she started, drawing everyone’s attention. “I just want to thank you guys for coming and giving me a second chance. That’s what I’m grateful for.” A chorus of awwws filled the room and she smiled more widely. “Let’s cut the pie!”

The knife had been placed on the table directly in front of her, but her bloat had forced her to push the chair back further so her belly didn’t press into the table, meaning the knife was just out of her reach. She unsuccessfully attempted to shift herself forward, flushing a bit at how her mass began to jiggle and wobble, and then heaved herself forward again. Nothing. She was stuck. She’d eaten herself so fat she was beached and bloated in front of everyone, too round to move. Her face was beginning to redden as all eyes at the table remained fixed on her and she gave one last Herculean effort, heaving herself forward with all her might until…*CRACK* the chair splintered and exploded beneath her, sending her crashing to the floor dramatically.

She landed flat on her back with her belly bulging upwards, her entire body jiggling uncontrollably. Her dress ripped straight up the middle, exposing her fattened gut and causing it to surge even higher into the air. Everyone gasped as she groaned, rubbing her gut while it undulated rhythmically beneath her fingers. She’d grown so fat she’d entirely demolished the chair, it’s once solid wood unable to hold up under the porky young woman’s added weight.

She burped loudly, still lying flat on her back as she panted, far too full to make any attempt to struggle to her feet. I didn’t even get any pie yet, she thought absentmindedly as the room burst into a bustle of activity, the stunned silence shooed away purposefully as her strongest cousins coordinated on how to best pull the greedy fatty to her feet.

Maybe, she thinks, unabashedly letting out another loud burp. I should’ve just let someone else cook.

I'm having a black friday sale on commissions if anyone is interested! You can choose the topic, characters, tropes, and outcome of my next story for $25 from 11/23/23-11/27/23, just message me:)

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zhongrin · 1 year

Note

ok but now aine pointing out that hot af art:

You give Mafia boss Li the blowing of his life, he tells you to stay in his office, he'll be back once the job is done.

hours. you wait for fucking hours for what should have been a simple hit job.

Li eventually comes back, covered in blood, kinda feral look in his eye, turns out he went and took out the mark himself because he was so pumped after your service. proceeds to shuck his bloody coat, throw you over his desk and ehehehehehohohohoho

you're kidding me you're spoiling me you're feral and unhinged and i am supposed to be chilling here on Friday night drinking my goddamned osmanthus tea and snacking on strawberry chocolate matcha-

ps. tumblr hates me and i had to rewrite this so if some parts feel weird it's probably because of that lskdjflsjdlfkjsdf

the heavy door which you had trouble opening at the start of your negotiations hours ago slams against the wall, making you jump and spill some wine onto your shirt.

you don’t have half the mind to worry about the spreading stain on your garment, however, seeing as the state of morax’s own shirt is way worse. there are splotches of dark reds marring the pristine white cloth, which are unbuttoned enough to display his chest, teasing what lies under. his amber eyes are glowing as he finds you sitting on the seat he regularly sat on, and at once he’s stalking towards you like a predator that has found a most delectable prey.

his black coat haphazardly crumples against the leather sofa, and within seconds he’s right in front of you, hands slamming against the armrests on your either side. the slight sheen of sweat against his arms reflects under the grand lighting of the luxurious office, and though he’s of a leaner size you’re suddenly aware of his muscles, reminded of his authority and the regality of his aura.

with a squeak, you sink further into the seat and stare downwards at your lap. but the man follows, leaning in even closer so that you can feel his breath against your forehead.

“how bold of you,” one of his fingers tilts your chin up to meet his eyes, “to sit on my chair. drinking my wine. when you have yet to fulfill your payment for your pesky client.”

“wha-but i did-”

“my, did you? why don’t you recite what i said regarding the payment.”

you try to rack your memories; with him so close, the scent of blood and his stupid cologne that fits him so well was so overpowering, your brain decided to turn into mush and remind you of how his seed tasted on your tongue, heavy and heady and-

“answer.”

“y-you said,” your breath hitches, “um… ‘if you can satisfy me, i will consider that as your payment instead’….?”

morax hums. his grip on your shirt tightening was all the warning you got before he ripped the material off your body, lips mashing together, tongue inviting yours into a dance. he tastes of iron and fragrant tea and the sinful thoughts of all your wicked desires that had grown immensely ever since you took his cock into your mouth. the glass of wine previously balanced within your grip thuds against the plush carpet, forgotten, and you moan against the kiss as the man pulls you even closer.

you almost don’t even realize that you’re lifted up the chair onto the wide desk until you feel them against your back. the size of it is absurd, just as everything else in this room; the chandelier, the vases, the paintings, the dragon sculpture, his girthy-

his hand trails up your inner thigh, and you shudder.

zhongli’s gaze rakes all over your body, his gloved hand faithfully following right behind it. you’re about to ask him whether you’re the most interesting paperwork he had to do on this desk, but the question dies before you could even utter a word, because while he’s keeping one of his hands on you, he’s biting on the other to slide them off, revealing his hands and the veins which run at the back of his palm.

he makes the action look like some kind of an art.

you don’t even realize that you’re whining at the sight of him taking them off in such a manner until his eyes lock onto you, with the leather still hanging between pearly white teeth (god, you’ve felt it from the kiss, but those little fangs are driving you crazy). the corner of his lips twitches as he gently places the material aside on the desk.

“i must have forgotten to tell you,” his bare hand tenderly swipes the lock of hair from your face and yet the expression on his face suggests that his next course of actions will be anything but gentle, “i am a man who can hardly be satiated by normal means.”

#rin answers #rin is having tea with: moth 💜#genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #rin writes #zhongli #zhongli x reader #minors dni

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fantasyandshit · 2 months

Text

The light and the dark

Type: series

Pairing: Azriel x reader

Part:6/?

Other parts

Summary: Azriel goes through his first lesson teaching Yn to fly. (This is short sorry I’ve had a lot of family drama going on)

It has been nearly a month since the accident in Hybern and Azriel and I are trudging through the forest, him carrying a bag whilst I am not, still getting used to the feeling of wings. Our shadows and light play together around us. The shadowsinger hadn’t told me our purpose for coming all the way out here but I’m excited- and also a bit nervous to see what it is. Mor nervous now after seeing Feyre, Cassian, and Rhysand’s faces when they were told he was going to start teaching me how to fly today. ;)

We continue to hike through the dense forest until we reach a sort of rock hill- it towers high into the trees and above the ground and before I can even turn back to question the man behind me- I’m shoved off the cliff. Yes you heard me right- This male, whom is in charge of protecting the night court and its citizens (me!) shoved me off the cliff.

I flail as I grapple to the floor, confused and terrified. Some light seems to enjoy the open air, flowing gracefully around me whilst others…well they wrap around me as tight as possible.

I can see the ground nearing..closer…closer closer. ………HOLY SHIT I GIANT ASS BIRD JUST SAVED ME! Oh wait…..no…it’s just Azriel.

As we get to the point we were on the cliff once again I waist no time clambering out of the shadowsinger arms to turn around- “You arrogant, insolent, asshole! You fucking fuck head absolute intolerable shit!” I shove my hands into the males chest but it does little to move or hurt him.

“You done yet? Because I’d like to continue my lesson.”

Pure shock spreads across my face, “your lesson? You threw me off a cliff! A cliff Azriel! A fucking cliff! Are you insa-“ my rant is cut off by the feeling of arms picking me up and then air rushing under me

Threw

Off

The

Cliff

Again

Gods I am starting to despise these wings.

Finally, after more “lessons” and a deeper explanation I am finally able to kind of fly. I am able to glide really- but it’s improvement and that’s what matters.

“So how was it?” Rhysand smirks as we walk into the house of wind for dinner.

“Ask him yourself- his lessons are fucking horrid.” I sigh as I rub my cheek where a bruise forms.

“She actually did better than anyone I’ve taught so far.” Azriel sits down at the table, serving himself some mashed potatoes.

“Hold up- you do this often? Throwing your friends off cliffs?”

“Yes, yes he does.”

“What the hell kind of twisted creature are you?” My light flutters around me, one caressing my cheek and another is caught slithering to Azriel- little traitor.

We all laugh and conversation continues throughout the dinner. I’m so lucky to have met these wonderful people.

@wallacewillow0773638

@pinksmellslikelove

@sassybluebird

@gorlillaglue25

@khaleesihavilliard

@thehighlordishere

@minnieoo

@isa1b2h3

@acourtof-wingspan

#acotar x reader #azriel x reader #acotar #azriel #elain archeron #elain x reader #feyre archeron #feyre x reader #nesta archeron #nesta x reader #cassian #cassian x reader #rhysand #rhysand x reader #archeron reader #archeron sisters #sjmaas

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laudthingcat · 1 year

Text

synopsis: Cú Alter is done being targeted by Medb. You are done being chased around by Kiyohime. Maybe pretending to date each other will keep both away?

pairing: cú chulainn alter x fem!reader

cw; fake dating, au where dr. romani is still alive and well y-y, mutual pinning, slightly suggestive at some point, master (the reader) is more or less oblivious.

w.count: 2k

a.n: million thanks to @nagumoan for helping me out with this beautiful banner and also coming up with a title <3 @cursedmoonchild you were right.. i did enjoy embracing the fluff lol but i hope u like it hehe (i will know if you laughed at his name again) // reblogs are appreciated ૮ ˶´ ᵕˋ ˶ა

m.list

Peaceful days are something rather rare around Chaldea. The multitude of servants you have summoned makes it rather impossible. While there are some very nice and helpful servants, there are some very chaotic ones too.

Being the master, you try to make sure everything is fine and that all your servants are satisfied and happy in there. You know that there are some servants who don’t necessarily like you. Not the same way they like each other at least. You observed the relief that spreads into Medb’s eyes when she’s sent to farm alongside Cú Alter. You’ve seen the way that Achilles and Atalante work together, terminating all the enemies and bringing back whatever materials Dr. Romani asked for. And it’s not that they don’t extend the same faith in you, but there are times when you feel like an intruder. Times when you feel useless. But oftentimes, things aren’t necessarily what they seem on the outside.

The main reason you feel like that is your need to help and protect others, and if you can’t do that, you tend to feel useless. But there are some problems that you can’t really take care of, or so you thought…

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Getting out of his room, Cú Chulainn Alter lets out a loud groan when he notices Medb at the end of the corridor, already heading his way. Saying that her obsession with him is tiring is not enough, no. It pisses him off more than anything and nothing he does seems to make her understand that he is not interested in her advances and flirt attempts.

He turns around and starts walking in the opposite direction leaving Medb pouting behind when she realizes he’s ignoring her again.

Cú Alter is used to the other servants seeing him as the coldest of the three. But one thing about Cú Alter is that he doesn’t care what others think. That’s why he is not surprised when even his master goes silent when he enters the same room. He notices the way you avert your eyes and bite your lip while Mash keeps on talking, not noticing the subtle change.

Being a fighter, a berserker, he recognizes fear from miles, and that’s not it.

He intimidates you, and he knows it. But how could you not be intimidated by someone like him? He’s imposing, extremely strong, and a killing machine. He grins when he feels you tensing up when passing by. Could it be that his master is that nervous around him?

Cú Alter is not interested in any kind of relationship with anyone. All he wants is to kill and be left alone. But even so, he finds himself getting out of his room and roaming the halls of Chaldea more often than before, silently looking around in the hope of finding you somewhere around the place.

Day after day, he ends up watching over you for a bit before returning to his room or leaving to help in the battles. The one thing that annoys him every single day is that annoying snake that roams around you even though you always reject her advances and godawful questions. Everyone knows about Kiyohime’s obsession with the master, and he never cared much about it, but lately, it has been getting on his nerves.

The more he sees how annoying Kiyohime is, the more he realizes that you are in the same situation he is in with Medb. That’s when an idea crosses his mind.

“Listen, master, we both have someone we want to leave us alone. Why not pretend to be together to get rid of both?”

You blinked in surprise when you heard his question.

Cú Alter caught you when you were alone heading towards the cafeteria, and after placing a hand on the wall, he trapped you in between it and his body. His question took you by surprise but the more you thought about it the more you realized it may actually work. It was worth a try at least.

“Sure, let’s do that, Cú~”

And so you ended up spending most of your time with him outside the farming time. Much to everyone’s surprise, he’d be next to you everywhere around Chaldea, bring your food, accompany you to the training sessions even if he wasn’t participating, and always escort you to your room at the end of each day.

Days and weeks passed and now you are more comfortable around him. His plan actually worked since Kiyohime and Medb didn’t even try approaching again after the first attempts when he scared them away, not before threatening them by saying that you “belong to him” and whoever dares touch what’s his will not make it out in one piece.

You’d be lying if you said that his declaration didn’t make your heart beat faster and cheeks burn, but you knew better. There is no way Cú actually meant that. He was just playing his role, and nothing more. You should be doing the same, but the more you play this role the more you find yourself hoping it was all real.

Even after he's accompanying you back to your room at the end of each day, all you can think about is him. Each thought you have makes your chest tighten and your heart hurt because you know it is all just a big lie. You end up crying yourself to sleep most nights, regretting getting yourself into this, seemingly easy, deal.

What you don’t know is that his very trained ears didn’t miss on hearing your sniffles and sobs. To say that he was utterly confused is not enough. Cú just assumes it is because of something he must have done wrong. He must have fucked up somewhere, somehow.

Every single day he tried to change something in his attitude. He’d bring you a flower he collected from the forests he trained in. Genuinely listen to everything you’re saying, from the simple things that happened throughout your day to your worries and fears. He’d say that he only does it for the appearance, to make it seem real in case Medb or Kiyohime are stalking. And you believe him. But truth to be told, he does it because that’s what he feels like doing.

Cú may have only gotten into this at first to get rid of Medb, but as time passed he found himself falling in love with you. At least that’s what he thinks it is.

Even though he seems like a cold and stoic man, every time you’re close to him he prays you won’t hear his heartbeat that ends up beating like crazy, almost as if it is trying to give his feeling away. He can’t help it. The way your wide, innocent eyes, sparkle in excitement whenever you see him approaching, a smile always present on your face.

You are the sun, while he is all darkness. He’s afraid his actions will end up fading your light.

Even when he is having bad thoughts, you end up dragging him out of them somehow. Sometimes, even a simple sentence completely stuns him.

“I’m really happy to see you, Cú.”

Cú finds it really hard to stay composed when you say stuff like that. Hearing your sweet, lighthearted voice, along with the way you look up at him and slightly jump on your toes - it’s like you’re trying to make him fall for you.

And it is working.

He sighs when he realized how deep he has fallen. Seeing your adorable face, all he wants to do is kiss you. Cup your face and make it official, not just some lie. But you’re his master, and you couldn’t possibly fall for a brute like him. He’s a berserker. You would be more fit with one of his more cheerful versions. Yet here you are, smiling and cheerfully chatting with the other servants, by his side.

You could have refused his offer. You could have said no and just ask somebody else to do it. Maybe you only accepted out of fear, or maybe you didn’t. But one thing he knows for sure, and that is that he doesn’t want it to be a lie anymore.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

The hallway is silent.

Everyone has already retreated to their rooms and he was planning on doing the same before you took him by surprise with your question.

“Can you stay with me for the night?”

You have been feeling sadder and sadder with each day passing and you wanted to have a talk with him. The thought of him not feeling the same was crushing your heart, but you’d rather ‘break up’ than keep suffering.

Cú hesitates, nearly turning around and heading toward his own room, his mind flooded with hundreds of different scenarios.

Why would you ask him that? Did you have any idea how dangerous it was to ask one of your male servants such a question? Were you out of your mind? But looking back at your nearly teary eyes and saddened face, he steps inside without commenting anything.

After hopping on your bed, you tapped on the empty space next to you, inviting him to join you. And so he did. The bed felt so much smaller now that he was next to you. You quickly felt your cheeks getting hot as you thought of how easily he could turn around and completely tower over you, trapping you underneath his body.

Seeing your flushed face Cú chuckled. What could possibly go on through that little head of yours?

“So, why am I here?”

Cú broke the slightly awkward silence.

Hearing his question, you remain quiet for a moment. Lifting your face to meet his gaze, you mindlessly place your hand on his cheek, your thumb gently touching the red tattoo that was resting beneath his eye.

“I guess i want to know how you feel about me?”

Out of all the questions, this is not the one he was expecting.

“How i feel about you?” he repeats the question as if trying to process it.

You nod your head as you bite your lip and furrow your eyebrows. You’re anxious and he can tell by how cold your usually warm hand is against his face.

“ I... I have feelings for you Cú.. “ he froze. “But if they are onesided... I am afraid I cannot continue with the lie. It hurts more than I thought it would.”

A million thoughts rush through your read as you realize there is absolutely no going back now.

“But if, maybe… you feel the same way… if you also feel something..”

Cú’s slowly blinking in surprise, now realizing that was the reason you asked him to stay.

He would be lying if he said he doesn’t have feelings for you. He respects you as a master, but his feelings have long surpassed the master and servant relationship.

Without saying anything, Cú placed his hand on top of yours, taking it and placing it on his chest, allowing you to feel his heartbeat. Then he leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss on your lips. He smiled into the kiss when you deepened it, realizing that you wanted that just as much as he did.

Getting a bit carried away, he captured both of your wrists and pinned your hands above your head, now truly having you trapped beneath his body. You moaned into the kiss when you felt his other hand rest on one of your hips, keeping you in place. Soon after he moved to your jaw and neck, leaving sloppy kisses and his marks, making sure that everyone will know who you belong to officially now.

You open your eyes when you feel your hands are free again and quickly cup his face admiring his beauty.

“Was this good enough to show you how I feel, master?”

You smile and happily nod your head, pulling him back in for another kiss.

Cú spent the night with you, and every single night after that too.

Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed it <3

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