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crypticreid · 8 months

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KINKTOBER DAY FOUR

October 13 -- Virginity

masterlist

author's note: happy friday the 13th!! this is a behemoth, but it feels right to celebrate this day with a little bit of fireworks lol!! thank you to everyone who voted in the poll, I might do more of those throughout the month. thank you for reading and let me know if you want to be tagged! (also, because this took me so long, it isn't as tightly edited as my other work)

summary: To be completely honest, you're struggling a little bit with you new job at the BAU. Spencer is there to help. Oh, and maybe he can help you with a few other things too.

warnings: female reader, losing virginity, fingering, oral (female receiving), grinding, discussion about masturbation and mention of sex toys

word count: 6.9k (sorry? lol)

this is adut content. 18+ plus only. minors do not interact!

Morgan smiles up at you from his desk as you scramble into the bullpen. Garcia is leaning against his desk as she raises her eyebrows. You toss your go bag under your own desk and push your hair out of your face, trying to ignore the pair.

“Rough night?” Morgan giggles, as he pushes the pencil he’s holding through his circled fingers suggestively. Garcia guffaws, but at least has the decency to playfully hit Morgan on the shoulder.

“Can you two behave for like five minutes?” You groan and try to find your ID badge. You literally just had it to get into the BAU department, but now it has mysteriously disappeared. It isn’t on your desk or in any of your pockets, but you do find a couple crumpled up dollar bills that you toss onto your desk without thinking.

The appearance of the bills causes Morgan to whistle. Emily walks over and sees the offending currency. “Damn, invite me next time!” She laughs.

You roll your eyes and don’t reply. Instead, you pull up your go bag and start to empty it. Maybe you accidentally put your badge in one of the pockets, you rationalize.

“What is going on?” JJ asks with a small laugh, gesturing to the contents of your go bag now completely strewn across the desk. Clothing and toiletries clutter the surface and you know you look like a crazy person. And maybe you are crazy. No, you definitely are crazy. Anyone who does this job is absolutely batshit crazy.

Tears sting your eyes, but you blink them away. You are absolutely not going to have a mental breakdown at eight in the morning in the bullpen, and definitely not in front of fucking Derek Morgan. “I can’t find my badge.” You mutter and drop down to your knees to look under your chair and desk.

You palm the dirty floor, but don’t find anything. Your friends stifle their laughter. “I would help you but this is not a crawl around on the floor kind of dress.” Penelope offers.

“Gee, thanks.” You say to yourself.

“Hey, has anyone seen –” Spencer stops in both his tracks and his sentence when he notices you on the floor. He swallows. “I found your ID badge. Over by the door. I think you dropped it.”

“Wonder boy saves the day!” Morgan exclaims.

Spencer finishes his trek over to you and offers a hand to help you up. You glance up at him, blushing slightly at the angle. Who would’ve thought you’d be on your knees in front of Dr. Reid? Okay, you’ve definitely thought about it, but your imagination didn’t normally make it happen inside Quantico and it absolutely never in front of your coworkers.

“Sorry, my hands are kind of dirty. Uh, from the floor.” You confess and take his hand as you stand up. His hand is warm and soft, like really soft. Like you could easily fall asleep to him rubbing your back in mindless patterns. As soon as you’re on your feet you slip your hand out of his to avoid your mind adding more ammunition to your middle of the night imaginations about Spencer.

“It’s okay.”

“Thanks. For the badge… and –” you take the badge from his other hand and gesture meaninglessly between the two of you.

“You’re welcome.” He smiles at you and you feel yourself redden deeper.

“Alright, alright! Time for kiss and tell!” Penelope exclaims and you blink away from your eye contact with Reid.

“What?” You whip your head around to her.

Emily makes kissing noises and musses her hair. “You. And some mystery person. Last night. Clearly.”

You turn toward her. “No. I wasn’t…” you start, your eyes flick over to Spencer as he walks toward his desk. “There’s no one.”

JJ leans on your desk and raises her brows. “Then what were you doing last night?”

You could not tell them the truth, but it was also impossible to lie to the best profilers in the country, so you give them a half truth. “Nothing. I just had a bad night.” You shrug and start to put your clothing back in your go bag, not bothering to fold it.

The truth is that it had been a bad night because you were struggling with the job. You’d been hired ten months ago and the lack of sleep, the neverending cases, and having to constantly deal with the horrific things humans can do to one another was taking its toll on you. Yesterday had been a day off and you wanted to use it to catch up on sleep, but everytime you closed your eyes, the faces of the people you couldn’t save filtered in. You hadn’t been able to get a good night’s sleep since you started and it had caused a complete breakdown last night. You had pulled up Hotch’s contact information four times ready to quit, but you knew you couldn’t do it. You were here for a reason, you’d stick it out.

Penelope hums. “Well, if it wasn’t a person… then it must’ve been alcohol.”

“Or gambling.” Emily adds.

You roll your eyes. “I don’t gamble.”

“You should. It’s a lot of fun. I’ll play you in Blackjack.” Emily smiles.

“Don’t play with her, she counts cards.” Reid murmurs absentmindedly as he reads over a file at his desk.

“I do not!”

Everyone laughs, but then the laughter dies away when Hotch comes out of his office. “Looks like no one gets to have fun for a couple of days.” Emily groans.

On the flight home after the case, you’re seated across from Spencer. Everyone else is asleep or has headphones in, even Hotch is passed out on the couch, which is rare. You still can’t sleep, so you stare out the window into the darkness as you fly over Virgina. Spencer clears his throat and you roll your head to look at him.

“Are you okay?” He asks.

You allow a small smile to form on your lips. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

He swallows and puts the book in his hand down in his lap as he leans forward slightly. “I know we don’t know each other that well yet, but you don’t really seem like yourself lately. Are you sure you’re okay?”

The sore achy feeling of wanting to cry but holding it in burns your throat. You cough softly. “I’m okay, really. Just – having trouble sleeping.” You give just a little bit of information, hoping it assuages his curiosity.

“Is it that mystery person keeping you up at night?” He asks point-blankly.

Your mouth is agape and you snap it shut, “did you just make a joke?”

“I tried to.” He smiles and you match his smile with your own.

“There really isn’t anyone.” You shake your head. “I’ve never –” you almost let the rest of the sentence slip out, but stop yourself just in time. The lack of sleep is obviously affecting you more than you thought.

“You’ve never what?” The way he moves his body forward in his seat makes your heart thrum in your chest. His body language is clear, even a rookie behavioral analyst could tell, he was prepared to listen to what you have to say. Not only that, but he actually cared.

You bite the inside of your cheek before letting out a sigh. Before you answer, you lean closer toward him, “I’ve never had sex, actually.”

His eyes widen and he clears his throat, “you’re a –”

“Virgin,” you finish for him. “I’m not ashamed or embarrassed by it. And it isn’t like I’m saving it or anything. It just hasn’t happened yet.” You shrug. “In all honesty, part of me just wants to pick some random person and get it over with.” You let out a small breathy laugh in an attempt to make you feel less awkward.

“Why haven’t you?” You meet his eyes. “I mean, just found a random person to get it over with?”

One of your shoulders lifts in a half-hearted shrug. “I don’t know. Like when I think about it, I realize that I’d rather have someone I trust, you know. Someone who would take care of me and not just see me as another notch on their bedpost. At least for the first time. And then after that, I’d feel more comfortable just going out and… you know.”

“Notching up some bed posts.” He nods knowingly and you giggle. He smiles, you notice that he enjoys making you laugh. A lot of the time it seems like people are maybe laughing at him or about him, but not you. He’s never the butt of the joke for you.

“Sure, Spencer.” You can’t help, but trail your eyes over him and contemplate the question that’s on the tip of your tongue. “How did you lose your virginity?”

He doesn’t seem offended or shocked by your question. “In college.”

You scoff, “weren’t you like twelve?”

“During my undergrad, yes. But I have multiple PhDs.”

“Of course, Doctor Reid.”

He shifts in his seat. “I was twenty. She was, uh, we worked in the same lab. And had the same research advisor.”

“So you two experimented on each other.” You joked.

Spencer’s face flushed and you felt a pang deep in your stomach. “In a way, yes.”

“I’m joking, Spencer.” He nods in understanding. “Were you like her boyfriend?”

“No, we just –”

“Hooked up.” You finish for him.

“For a couple months, yeah.”

Your mouth drops and you whisper, “you had a fuck buddy?”

His blush deepens. “I don’t think we ever called each other that.”

“What did you call her?”

“I don’t know. We never talked about it. I finished my doctoral thesis before her.” He shrugs.

“Wow, who knew.”

“What?”

“Morgan isn’t the only playa on the team.” You giggle and scrunch your nose, feeling the stress of the last few weeks dissipate from your shoulders.

“I’m not…” he laughs and shakes his head. He glances out the window. “We’re landing soon.” He swallows and leans back in his seat. It was terrible, but you had a strong urge to step across to his seat and straddle his lap and kiss him until you were both breathless. You turn your gaze back to the window and try to force the image away.

Your car wouldn’t start. You forcefully turned the key in the ignition again, and it sputtered and died. As you hit your steering wheel, you let out a frustrated noise and hit it again. You turn to grab your cell phone from your bag to call a tow truck and jump when you hear a knock on your driver’s side window. Spencer stands there apologetically, waving his hand with his closed mouth smile.

He steps aside when you open the car door and get out. “Is everything okay?”

“No.” You laugh bitterly. “My car won’t start and I need to get a tow.” You bite your lip, but can’t stop the tears that bubble over.

Spencer freezes, but then reaches out and touches your shoulder lightly. “It’s okay.” For some reason his comfort makes you cry harder. “Oh, uh, here,” he mutters and pulls you into a full hug. He squeezes you tight against him and rubs your back as you cry into his chest.

“I’m sorry, Spencer.” You blubber into his shirt.

“No, it’s okay. It’s gonna be okay.”

“Is it?” You pull away from his chest to look in his eyes. “I’m failing at this job and –”

“Woah, failing at this job?” He interrupts. “Who said that?” His brows furrow angrily.

“No one.” You blink away the tears stuck in your eyelashes and Spencer reaches up and swipes away one that trails down your cheek.

“You’re not failing. You’re excelling. You’re incredible. Truly, I mean that. I wouldn’t lie to you. I promise.” He swallows and you realize how close to his face you are, his hands wrapped around your back.

You don’t stop yourself, even though you know you should, as you lean into him. His eyes flutter down to your lips, but he doesn’t pull away, so you keep going. Your lips touch his lightly, barely there before you back away.

His hands tighten on you and pull you closer to him. He chases your lips with his and kisses you back, your own hands are on his chest and they twist into his shirt. You kiss him fervently, his hands traveling to your lower back, arching you into him. A moan escapes from the back of your throat and it breaks the spell. Spencer pulls away from the kiss.

His lips are pink and shimmery and you want to kiss him again. Desperately. “I’m sorry.” He murmurs, his tongue slipping out and swiping across his bottom lip.

“What for?” You blink.

“Kissing you.”

“I kissed you.”

“I kissed you back.”

“And you should do it again.”

His eyes dart to your lips. He wants to, you can tell, but he stops himself. “We shouldn’t.”

“Not here, at least.” You glance behind him and pray that the parking garage is completely empty. If your coworkers acted the way they did this morning about a nonexistent mystery person, you can only imagine their reactions if they saw you making out with Spencer.

“It’s inappropriate.”

“I don’t care.”

“There’s paperwork.”

“Not if we don’t tell anyone.”

“That’s not how that works.” He laughs, you can feel the vibrations of the sound against his chest.

“Do you always play by the rules, Dr. Reid?”

He swallows harshly, you watch the movement of his Adam’s apple bob against the tight skin of his neck. “I’ll drive you home.” He deflects.

You reach up on your toes and kiss him again. His hands spread on your back and press you against him and your hands pull him tighter to you, wrinkling his shirt. You hear footsteps and both of you step away from each other instantly, putting distance between your bodies. You turn your head to see a person you don’t recognize come into view from the other side of the parking garage. They don’t even glance in your direction. The hammering in your chest slows and you turn back to Spencer. He runs a hand through his hair.

“Grab your bag.” He says with an authority that makes you spring into action quickly. Neither of you say anything as you follow him down the rows of agents’ cars to his car. He opens the passenger side for you, the vintage car creaks in protest. He closes the door and you watch from the rearview mirror as he walks around the back of the car toward the driver’s side, his hands in his pocket.

He slides into the car seat and starts the car, it rumbles to life loudly. “I normally don’t even drive to work, just take public transportation. But I had an errand the other day.” He explains absentmindedly as he checks the rearview mirror and slowly backs out of the park spot.

“It’s kismet.”

“I always thought it was interesting that the English pilfered that word from the Turkish language. Considering words like fate and destiny already existed. Some etymologists attribute it to the rampant orientalism at the time. You know, like kismet was more mysterious or mystical or exciting than just simple fate.” He rambles and drives you out of the parking garage. A heady want begins to grow in your lower stomach. “And of course, the Turkish developed the word from an Arabic word meaning portion or lot. Which is fascinating.”

“It is.” You say earnestly.

He glances over at you sheepishly. “Sorry, I don’t mean to ramble.”

“Don’t apologize. I like it.”

His eyes are already back on the road, but you can see his cheeks redden in a slight blush. “Where do you live?” He asks and you tell him. It isn’t a long drive, well it isn’t this late at night. Your morning commute is a nightmare. He gives you a brief look, “why did you join the BAU?”

You exhale a long breath before you answer. “I wanted to help people I guess. Which is so cliche, but it’s the truth. Like it isn’t even about putting bad guys away or whatever. I just want to make the world safer. For everyone.” You look over at him and he meets your gaze for a split second.

“You are doing a good job.” He states. You shake your head. “I mean it. You are. You’re making a difference. You’re helping people.”

“But how do you keep your head above water? I mean… how do you not let it beat you down?”

“We have each other. And you focus on the good.”

You sit in a comfortable silence for a few minutes, letting his words sink in. “Thanks, Spencer. For everything today.”

He pulls into a parking spot in front of your apartment building. “I’ll walk you up.”

You go to unbuckle your seatbelt, but it doesn’t budge. You try again, but again, nothing.

“Oh, sometimes it sticks. Here,” he leans across the middle and reaches for your seatbelt buckle. His fingers graze the outside of your thigh and inhale sharply, electricity buzzing from the simplest of touches. He unbuckles you and you let the seat belt slide across your body, he doesn’t move away from you. He’s close enough that you can feel his breath on your skin, it enflames you.

“Spencer,” you whisper and turn your head toward him. His eyes slowly trail down your face toward your lips and then back up to your eyes. You can’t take it, so you lean forward and kiss him again. Tentative at first, waiting for him to respond. He does, his hands pulling your face closer to his, deepening the kiss. When you feel his tongue swipe across your bottom lip you open for him, let him explore and learn. You sigh into his mouth, your hands find their way to the back of his neck.

He slips away from you, breathless, but starts to kiss down your jaw. He mutters your name against your skin. You feel the warmth of his kisses travel down your spine toward your core.

“Come upstairs.” You sigh, when he bites lightly on a sensitive spot on your neck.

“I can’t. I shouldn’t.” He pants against your skin.

“I want you.”

He groans, deep and frustrated, and moves to lean his forehead against yours, both of your heavy breathing intermingling and becoming one. “You shouldn’t want me.”

“Why not? And don’t say the bullshit about us working together. I don’t care, Spencer. I trust you. I want you.”

He backs his head away from your forehead so that he can look into your eyes, his thumb against your cheek brushes back and forth. “You trust me?”

“With everything in me.” He kisses you again, softly, tenderly.

“I’ll take care of you.”

“I know.” You kiss him back and then pull away. He nods and you return it with a nod of your own.

His tongue glides across his lip and he swallows. You blink and he’s moving out of his seat and already at the passenger side door before you can reach for the handle. He opens it quickly and helps you out. It’s old school, but it makes your heart stutter and start. When he takes your hand in his, it feels like two magnets being drawn together. He slams the car door shut and you lead him up to your apartment.

Once you unlock your front door and guide him in, you shut the door and turn to look at him. You flick on the light. He stares at you and asks, “you’re sure?”

“Positive.” You step toward him and reach out to slide your hands across his stomach and then land on his waist. “Do I have to kiss you first again, or –” you don’t have to finish your question before his lips are on yours. His kisses are not tentative or searching, they’re needy and impassioned. Before long, you’re clawing at his shirt, untucking it from his pants and then reaching up to undo his tie.

He stops you as he breathes laboriously. “Wait, we should slow down.”

You continue to work on his tie, perpetually crooked, but now just an obstacle to what you need desperately. “I don’t wanna go slow.”

He moans and you finally get his tie undone and whip it off. “No, we should.”

Your fingers work deftly against his buttons, one at a time, and you look up at him. “I’m a virgin, but I’m not inexperienced. I’m not a delicate flower.”

His expression changes, his eyes grow heavy and he quirks his jaw. “Not inexperienced?”

“I’m not.” You almost sound like a petulant teenager.

“How far?”

“What?”

“How far have you gotten?” Your hands stop almost halfway through the third to last button. You don’t answer. His voice deepens, gravely and sexy, “you’ve clearly kissed before.” You nod. “Have you had someone feel your breasts?” As he asks the question, his hand reaches up and caresses your breast. You lean into the touch. “Has anyone put their mouth on your breasts, marking you as theirs? Rolling your nipple between their teeth?” He inclines his head into the crook of your neck and presses a hot kiss there. “Have you ever had somebody's mouth on your clit?”

Your breathing is sharp and jagged, but Spencer simply continues. “Would you let someone use their tongue to make you come? Or maybe even their fingers? Pump their fingers into until you're squirming?”

“Spencer,” you plead.

He continues to massage your breast as his other hand slips under your shirt and trails across your hips and stomach. “Or do you just mean that you’ve touched yourself? You’ve laid in bed and explored this beautiful body. Know just exactly how to make yourself shiver from your own fingers.”

You’re almost overwhelmed by his touch, his lips on your skin, and his words, your head is spinning, but you’re also desperate for more.

“We’re going to take it slow.” He informs you and it isn’t up for discussion. “Not because I think you’re a delicate flower.” He throws your own words back at you. “But because I want to take my time with you. I want to learn everything about your body. I want to touch every single inch of you with my hands. I want to make you come, I want to feel you come. Over and over again.” You’re practically shaking in his hands when his lips and teeth scrap across your jaw and to your lips. He takes them with his and you’re like clay on a potter’s wheel, malleable and completely at his will, waiting to be crafted into his masterpiece.

“Do you want that?” He breathes on your lips.

You somehow know instinctively that he wants a verbal confirmation, so you answer, “yes.”

He continues to kiss you, deeply, almost like a starved man tasting his first bit of sustenance. You answer with your own fervency. His hand at your hip squeezes and pulls you tight against him and you feel his want against you. It makes you moan. You grind your body against him and his grip tights even more.

“Bedroom. Where’s your bedroom?” He stutters, but doesn’t stop kissing you and you don’t stop either. Your hands are in his hair, pulling and twisting, holding him impossibly close to you. You didn’t know kissing could make you feel this way, simultaneously feverish and desperate, but also insatiable. You felt like you could kiss Spencer for a lifetime and never tire of it. He wasn’t close enough even though your bodies were pressed together, you needed more. The only thought in your brain is simply, more, more, more.

He pulls away from you, both of you taking heaving breaths. His lips were perfectly pink, your body thrummed with the knowledge that you caused such a change in him.

“Bedroom.” The single word went straight to your core. You take his hand and guide him to your bedroom.

Once you turn on the light, he’s behind you, pressing into you. You can feel every part of him, and he kisses the back of your neck. He’s back to being soft and gentle. He brings his hands to your stomach and inches them under your shirt until he has your breasts in his hands.

Your breasts feel heavy and logically you know why. Blood has rushed to them, just as it has rushed to your other erogenous zones, and it is sending a signal to your brain to release oxytocin. But you’re realizing that logic has no place in your head when Spencer’s hands and mouth are on you. Logic means nothing to you at this moment.

“You’re so beautiful.” He compliments as he fondles your breasts, your head lolls back against his chest. He angles his head so he can kiss your cheek. “You distracted me that very first case you were on. Did you know that?”

“No,” your eyes flutter shut when he moves down to kiss your jaw.

“I thought you were so gorgeous. After the case, I went home to my apartment and touched myself as I imagined you. I felt so ashamed, I couldn’t even look you in the eyes the next morning.”

Your mind wanders back to all those months ago. “I thought I had done something wrong,” you remember.

“No, it was me. I was wrong. But I couldn’t stop. I mean you can feel what you do to me.” He was right, you could distinctly feel the effect you had on him.

“I thought of you too.” You confess.

“You did?” His voice is low and breathy and you nod. “In that bed.” He ticks his head to gesture toward it. “Tell me.”

You feel yourself heat with blush. His thumbs brush across your nipples through your bra and your breath gets caught in your throat. You swallow and answer. “I would lie there, normally because I couldn’t sleep. And then I’d think about you. Your hands, I’d think about your hands.”

“My hands?” He squeezes your breasts.

You nod and answer simultaneously, “yes. I’d imagine them on my body, touching me.” He brushes your nipples again and you shiver. “And I’d slip my hand into my underwear, and rub my clit. Pretend it was you.” His hands abandon your breasts and slide around to your back. You step forward as he takes off your shirt and then unhooks your bra and helps you out of it. His hands on your hips turn you to face him.

“I knew you were beautiful. But you’re perfect.” Your instinct is to feel self conscious under his gaze, but you push it away when you notice the admiration in his eyes.

You reach for him and finish the job of unbuttoning his shirt and then peeling it off of him. “Fair is fair.” You say. He laughs, but his laugh dies in his throat when your nails scratch down his chest.

Your hands explore his exposed chest and back, feeling the muscle move underneath soft skin, and he works to rid you of your pants. You use him for balance as you step out of your pants, but as soon as you're standing on two feet again, he backs you toward your bed.

When the back of your legs hit the bed, you allow yourself to fall back onto it. He leans over you, your legs open for him and he kisses you again. Your hands continue their previous tour of his back, now feeling how his shoulder blades move when he grinds against you.

The first time he does it, you throw your head back in a moan. Even though you have multiple layers of fabric between you, you can still feel the heat radiating through you. He does it again and you arch up to meet his movement. When he does it a third time your nails scratch down his back.

He makes a low noise from the back of his throat and you know that your panties are soaked. His lips take a journey down your body, kissing and nipping at your clavicle, your chest, spending a significant amount of time on both of your breasts, and down your stomach. Your clawing at his back by the time his mouth meets the band of your underwear.

“Look at you,” he whispers. His thumb rubs lightly at your clit over the fabric. Your thighs clench and he laughs. “Keep them open for me, baby.” You mewl at the pet name. “You like that? Being called baby?”

“Yes.” You groan out when his thumb repeats his earlier action.

He does it again, almost unbearably slow. “I want to taste you so bad. I’ve wanted to know how good you taste for so long.” His voice is strained.

“You can. I want you to.”

His hands skate up to the hem of your underwear and you lift your hips slightly as he pulls them down. You open your legs for him again and he swallows. “Stunning.” His mouth is on you before you have time to process the word.

Almost instantly, he moans against you, the vibrations causing your toes to curl. Your hands clench your duvet and he pulls away for a split second, “touch me.” You do what he asks, coiling your fingers into his hair. He laps at your clit, creating a pattern and rhythm that makes your buck up to meet him. His hands grip at your hips and hold you in place.

“Spencer, oh fuck,” you ramble. He answers by moaning against you again and then sucking your clit into his lips. You bite down a scream. The heat at the base of your spine spreads across your body. “Oh my god. Oh god.”

He alternates between lapping and sucking at your sensitive bud, your nails practically digging into his scalp, your toes curling, as you try to catch your breath. Just at the moment where it feels like too much, your body clenches and crashes over the edge of your ecstacy, his name falling from your lips repeatedly.

He continues to lap at you softly until your muscles relax in his arms and then he looks up at you, smiling and his lips glistening, “you’re incredible.” You pull him up, so that you can kiss him. You kiss the taste of you off his lips. He brings his head up to look at you, pushes away the stray hairs stuck to your forehead. “Are you going to get sick of me calling you beautiful?” He smiles.

“No, I don’t think I could.” He smiles into another kiss. His hands travel down your body and as soon as one of his fingers slides across your folds, the flames reignite.

“Is this okay?” He asks. “I want all of you.” One of his fingers slips inside of you and then he pulls it out. He slides it back in and then repeats his action, starting slow and building up to a comfortable tempo, as he continues to kiss you. Nothing about his movements is frantic, but rather languid and relaxed, gently stoking the growing fire inside of you. You grind your hips against his finger and he smoothly adds a second finger. The feeling is different, but not bad as you feel yourself accommodating the extra digit.

“Alright?” He checks in with you, looking into your eyes.

“It feels good.” It’s not like the times you’ve laid here in this bed with your fingers inside you. It’s an entirely divergent sensation that you don’t think your imagination would have been able to conjure. “Really good.”

“Yeah?” He stops sliding his fingers in and out and instead leaves them inside as he pumps them, almost as if he’s searching. He finds what he’s looking for when you gasp and cling to his shoulder.

“Yeah.” You nod furiously, biting down on your lip. He’s no longer building the tension within you. Instead, it’s like he’s playing with a taut rubber band, waiting for it to snap.

You feel your eyes start to close, wanting to roll to the back of your head. “Keep your eyes on me, baby. I want to see. Want to see you come apart for me.”

You force your eyes open. “Spencer…”

“I know, relax into it.” His thumb starts to rub your clit. “You’re doing so good.”

“Oh my god,” you start to mutter and ramble again, a mixture of curses and Spencer’s name. You never break eye contact with him. It’s intense, but also intimate.

“Are you gonna come for me, baby?”

You let out a whine in answer and feel a muscle in your thigh twitch. Your core clenching on his fingers, the wet sounds of his fingers inside of you filling the room. The grip on his shoulders is tight and you hope it isn’t painful, but he barely seems to notice, all of his attention is on you. The mixture of admiration and lust on his features is almost too much. But you’re realizing that Spencer Reid never does anything part way or half-assed. Once Spencer puts his mind to something, he’s going to accomplish it. Not only that, but he’s going to put an almost Herculean effort into it. And somehow, you’ve become something he’s put his mind to. The thought makes you lean up and kiss him.

You kiss him until a gasp separates your lips from him. “So perfect,” he muses. Your core constricts and contracts on his fingers. Your breathing is short and your legs feel like they’re shaking, but you can’t really tell. “Come for me.”

One more shaky breath and then you do, the rubber band snaps. Your body arcs up into him and he swallows your shout with his lips, kissing you deeply. Again, he slows down but doesn’t stop, guiding you down from your high. When he does pull his fingers from you, you watch as he brings them to his mouth and sucks them clean.

This time you don’t need him to rekindle the flame of need inside of you, it's already there. You reach between your bodies for his belt. Together, the two of you make quick work of the last of his clothing. And then he’s kissing you again, both his hands and your own caress, rub, and grab at each other. You reach down lower and lower, until you meet his hardened length with your hand. You grip the base and he falters.

“I’d love that. Really, I want it so bad. But I won’t last, baby.” You squeeze him again and smile up at him, fluttering your eyelashes. “You’re a vixen.” He laughs, kissing you.

“I want you.”

“Fuck. I don’t have a condom.” You blink, it’s the first time you’ve ever heard Spencer drop the f-bomb. You giggle.

“I have some.” One of his eyebrows raises in question and you shrug. “I like to be prepared. They’re over there.” You gesture toward your nightstand and he stretches over to open it.

“Oh,” he lets out a surprised gasp and just then you remember what else is in your top drawer. “I guess you don’t just use your fingers to masturbate, do you?” He laughs.

You reach up behind you and grab a pillow and toss it at him. He dodges it and it falls to the floor. “Like I said, I’m a virgin, not inexperienced.”

Spencer grabs the box of unopened condoms, opens it and pulls one out. He carefully places the box back, his eyes lingering on your menagerie of sex toys.

“What are you doing?” You ask.

“I have an eidetic memory. I’m remembering… for later.” He smiles and you feel your heart speed up, pounding against your ribcage. You hadn’t had time to discuss anything past tonight. His smile falters. “I mean – I don’t mean to presume anything. Only if you want.”

You reach over to him and pull him back toward you, kissing him. “I do. I want there to be a next time. Other times.”

He looks down at you, searching. “Good, I do too.” He kisses you and only pulls away to put on the condom. He continues his kisses as he moves to position himself, spreading your legs for him. He brushes his thumb over your clit again and you moan. When he lifts his head from yours and glances up at you. You nod your head.

You feel the tip of him at your entrance, pressing against you, but not fully in. That’s all he does at first, until you move on him and allow him to slip into you. He works himself into you, allowing you to stretch around him. It isn’t uncomfortable, but it’s definitely a new sensation. None of your toys feel like him. Both of you watch as his penis slowly disappears inside of you. He pushes in the last inch with a thrust. There’s a flash of a pinch and you let out a breath.

“Are you okay?” He asks.

“Yeah, just give me a second.” He nods, licks his bottom lip and then resumes his circles on your clit. It only takes a few seconds for you to relax on him. You grind your hips, somehow taking him deeper. He groans. “Move, Spencer. Please.”

He inches out of you and then pushes back in without any urgency or force. He starts the same pattern and rhythm his fingers had used earlier that night. The feeling of him moving inside of you is incredible, you can feel him dragging against your walls. His body against yours, skin to skin, more connected than you’ve ever been with anyone else. Between the feeling of him pumping into and his movement against your clit, it doesn’t take long until you’re clawing at his back, wordlessly asking him for more. He answers, creating a relentless rhythm that you grind your hips to match.

At some point, your eyes had shut and you hadn’t realized and so you force them open again, wanting to watch Spencer come apart just like he watched you. “You feel so good. Better than I could have imagined.” He starts to ramble. “I can’t believe I get to feel you like this. So good.”

His eyes shoot down to watch himself slip in and out of you. “Fuck.” He cusses again. You decide you like when he curses, especially if you’re the reason. He moves his hips and his cock finds the same spot his fingers found earlier and you clench around him as you let out a deep groan.

You lose track of time, it moves at a snail’s pace, but also at the speed of light. Time ceases to exist to you, your world shrinks down to only the two of you, everything else falls away. And then you’re falling again, diving headfirst into an orgasm.

“Yes, yes. I love feeling you like this. Oh my god… oh fuck. I’m gonna –” he sputters.

You reach up and pull his lips to yours, kissing him through his own orgasm. He shakes above you as he pumps into you with a final harsh push. And then when he peaks, he slowly fucks into you through his orgasm. He continues to kiss you until both of your breathing returns to normal and then he lifts his head to look at you.

He smiles and you can’t help it when a huge toothy smile appears on your own face.

“Are you okay?” He inquires.

“I’m perfect.”

His hand reaches up and caresses the side of your face. “You are.”

The next morning you walk into the office still smiling. Everyone is around the desks, including Spencer. He glances over at you and nods in greeting, as if you hadn’t just said goodbye to him a few hours ago, the first golden rays of dawn streaming through your bedroom window.

“Good morning.” You say to everyone. You set your go bag down at your desk and Emily smiles over at you, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

“Oh, Morgan. You had it all wrong.” She teases.

Morgan looks at Emily and then over to you. “What?”

“That is the look of a woman who got it real good last night.” Emily laughs, loud and brash. You smile with her and Penelope gasps.

“Tell. Me. Everything.” She runs over to you and grabs onto your arm.

“I have no idea what you mean.” You reply innocently.

JJ smirks. “Oh, she got it real good last night.”

“Is sex all you guys think about?” You joke. The girls laugh and Morgan still seems confused. Spencer is focused on the file on his desk, but his finger isn’t moving down it and you know he isn’t reading it. “I had a good night last night.” You give a small inch, just to stave them off. Penelope squeals. You grab her hand. “And that’s all I’ll say about it.”

“Boo!” Emily exclaims.

Penelope almost pouts. “Oh, you are the worst!”

“I know!” You laugh gleefully. Spencer looks up for only a split second, but you catch it and he smiles at you.

“I’ll find out eventually. You do know that, right?” Penelope warns.

“You are terrifying.” You squeeze her arm and turn away from the group to start on your mountain of files. It’s true that eventually everyone would probably find out about you and Spencer, but for now the two of you get to live in your own personal world. You smile to yourself.

tag list: @spenciesprincess @catalinasroom @tylevx @alicentswife @ingrid69rs @sobbingcryingattsizzles @infinitegalaxiesworld

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader #kinktober #kinktober 2023 #my writing #ohh my god i did not mean to write this much lmao

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luna0713hunter · 8 months

Note

I saw request are open so can I request something!? So I read about this lipbam challenge so I'd like to request reader doing lipbalm challenge with Zoro where she (reader) wears blindfold and she asks Zoro to puts lipbalm on his lips and reader guesses the flavour of lipbalm by kissing him. At first reader tries really hard to guess the flavor so Zoro gets annoyed that she is paying more attention to challenge than kisses so at the end he kisses her so hard that she blanks out from how good it was. And in the end they just make out lol

Thank you!

Author's note : ask and you shall receive!! 👀 Cant say im not invested in this!!!i havent seen this challenge but I'll do my best to write it!!hope you'll enjoy!

Lipbalm challenge

Zoro Roronoa x reader

Warnings : pet names, slightly suggestive,needy!Zoro cause why not

*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘

"ok!you ready?"

You hear a sigh from your right side and turn your head in his direction. You narrow your eyes from behind the blindfold and playfully slap the direction you think his arm is supposed to be.

"hey!be more excited about this!"

"why the hell would i?"

"cause its cute and romantic!we never do anything romantic together,this is a great chance to spice things up."

When Zoro stays silent,you just know he's giving you his usual judgmental look. You tug at his shirt (or maybe its his pants,who knows) and give him your best pouting face.

"let's just start?please?"

You hear him sight tiredly and smile; Although he always complains,Zoro can never say no to you.

You hear the sound of the lid of the lipbalm opening,and you start swinging your feet and making the hammock to move slightly. You feel so excited,that when Zoro asks if you're ready you nod your head without missing a beat.

Then in the darkness surrounding your vision,you feel a pair of soft,soft lips on your own. But before you can lost in the sensation,you dart your tongue out and taste the lipbalm on Zoro's lips.

When you pull away (slightly out of breath and cheeks now colored pink) you grin and lick your own lips, "Strawberry!"

You feel Zoro pause,and then another lid opening.

"yeah,it was strawberry."

You grin happily and wait impatiently for the next one.

Watermelon

Peach

Lemon?

That must've been vanilla

You're so focused on guessing each taste right,that you dont even notice Zoro pause for a little bit too long and scowling at your blindfolded form. The way you keep paying more attention to the fucking lip balm,and ignoring him,has his frown deepening.

So he sets aside the stupid lip balms,and when you feel his breath on your lips and hear no sound of opening lids,you tilt your head, slightly confused.

"Zoro? what're you-"

Then his lips particularly devour yours.

You let out a surprised noise;having to wrap your arms around his neck to stop yourself from falling backwards. His hands grip your hips to pull you impossibly closer.

Zoro kisses you like he's trying to steal the breath right out of your lungs.

When it becomes too much,you start slapping his chest lightly to signal him you cant breath. He presses his lips to the base of your throat and your voice hitches.

"Z-Zoro," you stutter;not being able to form a coherent response when the kisses on your skin becomes much more heated, "what's -what's gotten into you?"

He grumbles a response against your skin and you card your fingers through his hair to get his attention.

"babe,talk to me."

"its the damn lipbalms."

Your eyebrows shoot high on your forehead as you take his face in your hands and look at him with confusion.

"what about them?"

"you were fucking paying more attention to them than me."

The answer has you blinking,once, twice,before suddenly bursting into a fit of laughter.

Zoro scowls at you and hovers above you as you drop back on the hammock.

"what's so damn funny?'

Using the hands on his cheeks,you pull him down again to press a loving kiss to his lips.

"its how adorable you are when you're jealous."

"i wasn't jealous-"

"over lipbalms no less!!"

He scowls even harder,but when you press another kiss to his forehead and then lips,his eyes softens the way it always does when he's with you,and your heart feels so full.

"how about we ditch dinner so i can make it up to you, Mr.Handsome?"

Zoro looms over you more and presses his chest to yours,and you shiver as you feel his breath right next to your ear.

"i suggest you forget about breakfast too then. Cause I feel really wounded,and I'm not planning to let you go anytime soon."

And when his lips are on yours once again,you think you should do these challenges more.

Because needy Zoro,will always be your favorite.

#opla zoro roronoa x reader #opla zoro x reader #zoro roronoa x reader #zoro x reader #one piece live action x reader #one piece x reader

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lefty-scribes · 1 year

Text

sunflower

Summary: After coming home late from a stressful day at work, Spencer needs nothing more than to be in your arms in order to feel like himself again. You offer your touch to him in more ways than one.

melodramatic handjob :>

Word Count: 3423

Songs: ‘cry’ by cigarettes after sex may fit !!

Pairing: softdomme!reader x sub!spencer

Warnings: smut (18+ please), choking (m receiving), spencer cries xoxo, fully consensual but his reactions are described as ‘involuntary’ sometimes, sudden tense switch at the end bc it felt right idk, 65% buildup, 15% action, 20% orgasm LOL

a/n: guys the transition from comfort to seggsy just happened out of nowhere and the pacing is aggressively slow, prob making this hard to get off to. i’m sorry. also if you don’t think you should be reading this (🔞) you’re probably right ?? but please don’t tell me about it. do comment anything else though if you're feeling up to it :3

With a twist of his hand on the doorknob and a step through the door, Spencer took his long awaited whiff of home. It smelled of cedarwood and floral candles and you, and the tension released from his shoulders completely for the first time today.

He walked straight to the bedroom where he knew you’d still be up waiting for him, door open with a lit bedside light to welcome him despite his insistence that your sleep is more important. The urge didn’t even come up to wash his hands, disinfect his phone, or sanitize his work bag, being replaced instead by his desire to be in your presence.

As he’d suspected, there you were, sitting up on the bed you shared, eyes fighting to stay open as they flitted through the pages of a book. The comforter covered your legs, and only a thin sleep shirt separated your back from the headboard you leaned against, the shape of your nipples hardly poking through. Spencer hesitated to walk in and ruin the pretty picture.

When you noticed him, a fond smile grew on your face and you dropped your book to open your arms wide for him. He slowly walked over to you, stomach twisting just a little at the fear of being a bother, and started to position himself as he did whenever he needed a bit of extra comfort. He gave you a quick peck and settled down so his head rested on your lap, lying down on his side with his arm hugging your bare thighs. His long frame curled sideways by your legs under the blanket. He said nothing when you combed your fingers through his hair—just held you a bit tighter; nuzzled his cheek impossibly closer.

You broke the silence, absentmindedly separating small locks of his hair now with your fingers. “Want to talk about it?” you asked, to which he shook his head, movement still restricted by your thighs on his cheek, hating that he didn’t have more to say. Hated to have to make you pry just to hear about his day, but all the more in awe of how attuned you were to his emotions—even more than he was sometimes. Hated being moody and uncommunicative, but his brain was betraying him.

Your thumb now stroked his eyebrow, smoothing it out. Every part of him that your fingers touched relaxed in its wake, coupled with the scent of your lotion and laundry into his breaths. He finally spoke up, voice slightly muddled from his cheek against your leg; perhaps he sounded like his handwriting would sound, though he hoped he was more understandable than that.

“Per hour of sleep we lose, human blood pressure tends to increase by 3 to 5 millimeters of mercury, so you waiting up for me this late probably already caused an increase of 10 mmHg. Cortisol levels can also increase by up to 80% when sleep deprived, and your reaction time can slow by up to 500 milliseconds, which will make it more unsafe for you to drive tomorrow.” I appreciate you so much, baby, but you shouldn’t have waited up, is what he wanted to say. It never came out that way. I love when you greet me. Don’t put your health at risk for me. I’m sorry I’m late. But it always came out instead as numbers and statistics because that’s all he knows how to do, and it’s the only way his voice knows how to love, but you get it. He wants to add more.

You get him. “Stop worrying, Spence. I need to see you just as much as you need to see me. Can’t sleep otherwise,” you assured him. Goosebumps rose on his skin as you rubbed slow, pressured circles onto his forehead, massaging him properly now. Maybe your words were supposed to make him feel better, but he couldn’t shake the guilt in his gut. His burden complex weighed heavier today.

“My Spencer,” you breathed. Heat rose onto his cheeks. Your Spencer. “What do you need from me?”

He laid still on your lap, face now turned upward to memorize your own, pondering on the question. Always too scared to ask, though he knew what he needed. “Anything you’ll give me,” he whispered.

Now freshly dried from his shower, Spencer walked toward where you stayed sitting on the bed just as you had been when he arrived. He stood completely bare before you, an unlikely mix of both self-consciousness and pride filling him as you looked him up and down. The implied power imbalance of your clothed decency juxtaposed with his nude vulnerability has just occurred to him; he felt a rush in his stomach.

You pulled the covers off and spread your legs apart, then patted the space in between. Spencer crawled onto the bed as carefully as he could, trying not to shake it too much, now unsure of how long he could last. He found a seat between your thighs, the outer edge of his legs lining the inner side of your own, his back flush against your torso.

Goosebumps rose on his skin when your hands trailed up his neck, grazing his ears, then his cheekbones, to comb themselves through his soft hair. He shivered, just once. His mouth parted slightly in a shaky exhale and his head lolled back toward you, as a cat would, until it rested gently on your shoulder, full trust in you to support him. His eyelashes fluttered to a close as you slowly but firmly squeezed your fingers into a closed fist against his scalp, hair tangled within your grasp, letting the leverage of your palms against his head do the tugging. Despite the tightness of the skin around his temples, his facial muscles only continued to relax as he silently handed you all control of him. He released a shallow gasp as you gave your wrists a slow twist before releasing his hair entirely.

You slid your fingers down to his nipples, running your thumbs over them each for not long enough. He let out a sigh that must’ve released more air than his lungs had the capacity to carry in the first place. The stresses of the day began to leave with it, Spencer being overcome instead by the relief of being back in the comfort of his own home—in the arms of his beloved. Your hand was cool against his humid skin, raising goosebumps in its wake. Ears ringing, he hardly heard his own voice releasing a shaky, dragged out, sh— shhhit, between gritted teeth.

Your hands trailed down even further toward his soft stomach which was scrunched into a bean-like mound from his position against you, grazing down his happy trail before ignoring his painful erection and inching toward his thighs instead. Your nails dragged gently over his inner thighs and he pried them open for you; all for you.

He whined under his breath and his legs flexed under your touch, only the duration of a single twitch, lifting his hips up subconsciously to contact your hands where he needed them most. You gently pushed him back down, wordlessly insisting on giving attention to his soft thighs, asserting that it was your pace being followed. And he couldn’t object. He didn’t want to. Always so patient with him, he longed for you to be proud of his obedience. His thighs were yours to touch, after all, and so was what rested now painfully hard between them.

His head still laying against your shoulder, you gently swiped your tongue against his ear lobe, getting his attention. You whispered to him, and he was so receptive to you. “Do you think you’re ready?”

He didn’t need to see it to know, but he glanced down anyway, his cheeks burning up to a colour he imagined matched his throbbing penis. He ached to be touched there, swallowing at the thought.

He hummed lazily in response, already lightheaded from the rush in his head. He tilted his head in slow roll to place clumsy kisses all over your face, whatever part of it he could reach, nodding continuously to please touch me, I’m ready. He thought his lips had caught your nose, cheekbones, ear, jaw… but at that point he’d already been intoxicated by your touch and couldn’t tell the difference; only wanted to taste the saltiness of your supple skin.

“Words, Spence.” With his head still turned to you, you caught his bottom lip between your teeth and nipped at it until it puffed up, drawing a light whimper from him. He arched his neck sideways to grant you access to the rest of him that your lips and teeth could reach. More of him now exposed to you, he quietly pleaded as you lightly sucked on sensitive points behind his jaw. A lone tear slipped out of his eye closest to you, and you lapped it up as it hung from his jaw.

“Ready. Always ready for you,” he choked, voice already hoarse. Your ability to take him to the clouds far before touching the most sensitive part of him only turned him on further, as well as the nurturing and patient but complete control you exerted. He was undeserving and yet eternally grateful. Swore to himself he’d spend the rest of his days trying to love you as completely as you did him.

Upon squeezing out some lubricant from the bottle in your bedside drawer, you grasped his erection in your slick hand, your other hand exploring the rest of his body, and he gasped with an unintentional jolt. From this position you two were in, it allowed the ridges of your curled palm and fingers, as well as the coolness of your wedding ring, to make full contact with the sensitive vein along the underside of his cock.

You played him like an instrument, and the sounds he made proved nothing less. You’d glide your sharp knuckles over him, barely making contact with him, much to his protest; your hand would run along the thin, elastic stretch of skin connecting his head to the underside of his cock. Or you’d bunch your delicate fingertips together at his tip, letting the widening of his cock separate them as you pushed down toward his balls. He almost wished, as the pads of your fingers trailed his length, that your fingerprints could be ingrained in his skin, if only to be claimed by you even more. His breaths grew laboured and he slowly lost the shame in his whimpers.

Your other hand moved to his lips, muffling his sounds slightly. Your breath tickled his ears, and he threw an arm back to grasp your hair or neck or whatever he could grab, trying fruitlessly to get closer for you to ground him.

He whined helplessly against your now vibrating hand, though it did nothing to quiet his volume as you so creatively played with his cock, fidgeting with him and using him like nothing. Tension was prominent between his eyebrows sewn together, and surely his forehead carried a few creases as well.

You gently ran your thumb against his bottom lip, and he instinctively pulled it into his mouth. Your thumb pushed degradingly against the inside of his cheek, forcing his mouth to open slightly. His tongue circled your thumb out of habit, and the slightest bit of spit dribbled out the corner of his lips.

The room started to smell and feel like sweat, though he couldn’t bring himself to care. He was experiencing everything and nothing all at once, sensations heightened yet brain numbed. Rare were the occasions that he couldn’t explain everything, and the times where he couldn’t think straight, but he revelled in it. Nowhere else was Spencer able to be completely defenseless and equally safe but in your arms—or hands, in this case. His guard wholeheartedly down, he cherished the privilege of being worriless and thoughtless.

His brain’s unusual absence of words and knowledge—two things which he so dutifully guarded just to feel competent—was welcomed because you were around to protect his vulnerability in the meantime.

By now, from the sweat or his own sheer lack of control, Spencer had slid down slightly so his shoulder blades were flush with your breasts; your hard nipples pressed against him through the soft silk of your nightshirt and it reminded him how eager he was to return the favour. He was leaning back a bit more, hardly noticing the ache from his weight resting on his tailbone.

The position gave you access to move your working hand even lower, gentle fingers starting to toy with his balls before moving down toward the sensitive patch of skin right beneath. He pulled his bottom lip between his teeth when you hit it, hums and groans gradually increasing in pitch. Against his own will, he clenched around nothing, causing his perineum to shift against your fingers. He choked out another embarrassingly loud sound, mouth shamelessly open now, and then did it again.

You kissed his jaw. “How do you feel?” you whispered. You gave more attention to the pink head now, fingers tickling his smooth tip, thumb pressing down periodically on the ridges. Your other hand played with hair.

“You treat me so well,” he breathed, as earnestly as he could, turning his head to give a sloppy kiss to your wrist, drunk on your touch, your warmth, and you. “Love you so much,"—he swallowed—"ah— oh, f— fuck— Love what you do to me.”

“You deserve it all.”

His moans got more high pitched as you worked, and his breaths came in faster than his chest could keep up with. His hands grasped at your thighs to steady himself, blunt nails digging in.

“My Spencer baby, you look oh so beautiful,” you praised, voice dripping in sheer adoration. His eyes drew open and his gaze rolled back, then lazily toward you. Another tear slowly escaped the corner of his eye, and he wished he weren’t tearing up if only to see your pretty face more clearly. His eyebrows were still tense under the nearness of his undoing, tilted in a pleading pout.

“Please, please-please-please-please-plea— mmngh…” He pleaded and begged for release, no longer making sense of what was coming out of his mouth, eyes ever-downturned and watering once again.

He was helplessly putty in your hands, his body no longer his own, but rather a shell of just euphoria and feeling. He was floating and completely at your mercy, just as he loves to be.

“I love you, please, I—” His sentences grew choppy and more and more incoherent, his speech being mixed with unintelligible throaty noises. His chest rose and fell significantly faster than it had earlier, lips hardly separating as he mumbled a yesyesyesyes keep going yes just like that please, and his hips thrusted up to move his length further into your hand.

His desperate hands sought purchase from whatever they could grab, now tightly squeezing and scratching at your thighs. He readjusted his sweat-slicked palms as they slipped down your skin.

Your hand in his hair slid down roughly to grab his jaw in utter possessiveness, twisting it up toward you to plant a sloppy kiss on his lips. He did the best he could to return it. “Go ahead, baby,” you mumbled against his mouth.

He whimpered into the kiss, with no more capacity to spare you an audible ‘thank you’ as usual. You squeezed your working hand just the slightest bit tighter around his cock, working your way back up to his ever-sensitive pink head.

“Shitshitshitshit, fuck, oh, God. I’m so close, I’m so close, I’m so—ah—” How naughty he felt. Maybe you’d tease him later about the junk coming out of his mouth, flustering him with the thought of what the neighbours would think. But as a sunflower proved its affinity to the sun and its warmth, all he could do now was gaze at you mindlessly, his neck aching at the effort. Under the dim yellow lamp lighting up the room, he embodied the sunflower’s golden glow. Its face would follow the bright star by nature and so would Spencer's, happily compelled by some force of nature to show you his authentic self as he held on so close to his orgasm. You smiled at him.

The bed squeaked under his shaking legs. Lone tears made their way down his face, free-falling now, and he made no move to wipe them. As he neared his peak, you kept your hand on his cock, hand wrapped snugly around his tip, angling it toward his chest.

You grabbed his throat with the other, fingers squeezing inward toward the two valleys around his neck that carried his precious arteries, and he felt the first spurt of cum burst through with a loud wail of surprise.

“Baby—“ he tried breathlessly, eyes still attempting to meet yours to please understand what I’m saying, please be proud of me, “baby, I’m coming, I’m fucking coming, I’m…” His muscles spasmed and sharply leaned him forward, causing your hand to obstruct his throat just a bit more, and he was thankful for it if only to ground his shaking to a minimum.

His head was pounding and his vision grew spotty as he basked in the feeling of his life, and his penis, in your hands, and the purpose with which you handled him as he prayed for this state of euphoria to not simply kill him. Though that wouldn’t be a terrible way to go.

He fought the urge to squeeze his eyes shut, yet still saw only white. He was burning up and held no sense of himself as his muscles twitched in waves, knees buckling, though you were there to hold him through it all. His mouth opened in a silent scream as you continued moving your hand along his sensitive length.

His panting gradually became less breathy and more audible, now backed by a throaty groan with every breath he released. Your name became the only thought in his mind, and he let it shakily slip out of his mouth, not caring how absolutely brainless he sounded. With each spurt of his release onto his chest, each involuntary clenching and thrust of his hips, he repeated it. Whether a cry of pleading, gratitude, or adoration, he wasn’t certain—but it all centred around you.

You talked him through the final stages of his orgasm with gentle murmurs of praise, pushing his hips down to forcefully guide him through it. Good boy, Spencer. Keep going. I’m right here. You got it. You’re doing great. Almost done. I love you. You’re so safe here. Your ministrations on his sensitive penis didn’t slow as you patiently waited for him, though he had to rest his hand on your wrist to slow you down, eyes finally falling closed; you obliged. His body offered you one final tremor of overwhelming pleasure.

The horrors of the day seemed to have been released with his release. But with the way you were now atop him, cleaning up the mess on his chest with your tongue, then crawling back up to his own mouth to offer him a taste, he felt his once-against stiffening cock asking for more where that came from. His aftercare be damned. No longer overwhelmed by his need for solace, this new rise of arousal was geared toward you—thanking you, loving you, cherishing you, pleasuring you in the way his words so often failed to do.

He would do for you what you had so generously done for him, and more, if you’d let him. He could give you his tongue, his length, his fingers, a toy—or whatever you wanted. Offer himself to be used and taken however you pleased. Longed to give you everything he could. He was yours, after all.

Spencer told himself that there would be time for all that, though he always worried otherwise. Keeps it in his head, but he pleads every day that you wouldn’t end up like those he sought justice for at work, or be the body that haunted him until he arrived home to you, or the victim of a target aimed at him. Pleads every day that there would be more time.

But in the meantime, with not much else he can do, just as a sunflower would, he swears to turn his back to everything else dark about the world and follow his sun as long as he is able.

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gothbitchshit · 2 years

Text

Thick with Desire

Pairing: Eddie Munson x fem plus sized! reader

Genre: hurt/comfort, smut, fluff

Rating: Explicit/18+ only MINORS DNI

Length: 7k

Summary: When your boyfriend Eddie’s shirt doesn’t fit, you start to feel like you don’t deserve him. But Eddie is having none of it, not when he finally gets to see how beautiful you are.

Warnings: reader is 18+ but is implied to be a senior in hs with Eddie, reader is insecure about her figure/weight, reader degrading herself for her figure/weight, briefly mentioned unsafe weight loss methods (dieting/disordered eating), Eddie being a whole simp for his thick gf, praise kink, so much dirty talk like 😮‍💨, sacrilege lol, overuse of pet names probably sorry, body worship, daddy kink 😬, face sitting/oral sex (f receiving), fingering, Eddie has a big dick, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, slight overstimulation, dumbification if you squint, dacryphilia, marking kink — if I missed anything please let me know 🖤

Requested: Yes by @joekeeray — “Don’t be shy now, come sit on my face”

A/n: I’ve been working on this for way too long, bc as a thick bitch, I felt ✨inspired✨ but this could be potentially triggering for anyone who struggles with body image issues 🖤 also this has been beta read 🫡 also my requests are open so pleaaaaaaaase send me requests ❤️

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You stared at your reflection in Eddie’s mirror as fat, salty tears rolled down your face without a stop in sight. Eddie’s frantic voice muffled by the locked door as he begged you to let him in. You knew this moment was coming — it had been looming in the distance most of the day.

It had started at lunch, Jeff’s new girlfriend, Missy, wearing his old Hellfire shirt — the one he’d accidentally torn the neck of in frustration a few months ago sitting at the same table they were at now, trying to psych himself up to ask Missy on a date. You hadn’t thought much about it, in fact you thought it was cute she was putting in effort (something you figured she could stand to do more of) but that in itself wasn’t the problem.

The problem was the ideas it gave your wonderful boyfriend.

Eddie had leaned over and whispered in your ear, “Why don’t you ever wear my shirts, sweetheart?” and instead of making you buzz with excitement — as his honeyed voice usually did — it filled you with dread.

You didn’t look like Missy, no matter how hard you wished, cried, dieted, starved, or hated yourself for it. You weren’t thin or delicate like her. And no matter how many times Eddie called you his tiny baby or his little princess, you couldn’t help but feel the stab of his words deep in your chest. You weren’t tiny like he wanted you to be — like you wanted to be.

The sheer thought of attempting to squeeze yourself into your boyfriends shirt made you want to cry. The material, while baggy on his lean frame, would stretch threadbare, and there wasn’t a chance in hell it would be long enough to cover your tummy. The idea of Eddie seeing you had caused you to shy away from his affections on more than one occasion. You’d never let him get your clothes all the way off, and had carefully avoided the topic of sex by learning how to give Eddie the best head of his life, and letting him finger you to his heart’s desire. It wasn’t like Eddie was pushing you, or cared in the slightest that you hadn’t gone all the way yet. And you’d almost given in on multiple occasions, when his hands would brush over your body in the most sinful ways and his voice rasped in your ear, verging on desperation as he explained all the filthy things he wanted to do to you.

You weren’t a virgin, although being with Eddie had made you wish you’d waited for someone like him before giving it up to Andrew Johnson at the Halloween party sophomore year. Especially not when you came to school the next day and the basketball team — bar Steve Harrington — had been whispering about what you looked like under your clothes. The whispers stopped quickly after Will Byers had disappeared along with Barb Holland, and the Nancy Wheeler and Steve Harrington drama had thrown you back into social obscurity: back where you felt safe.

It had taken you nearly 2 years to trust another boy. You’d almost given up on men entirely — like your best friend Robin had suggested you do — but Eddie had wormed his way into your heart so easily. You trusted him with everything you had. But you were so scared that if Eddie saw you, all of you, he would decide you weren’t good enough anymore, that you weren’t enough.

It wasn’t long after Eddie had whispered in your ear that you were pushing your half eaten lunch away from you, standing up from your seat. “I need to talk to Mrs. Highland about making up a test,” you mumbled into Eddie’s ear, pressing a gentle kiss to cheek. He opened his mouth to speak, to question you about why you were leaving so suddenly, but you were already nearly out the door.

You carefully avoided him the rest of the day — taking long detours around areas you knew he frequented. You even went so far as to pretend you didn’t see him while talking to Robin between classes, unable to miss the hurt on his face. It broke your heart to know that you made him feel that way. But you didn’t know how to talk to him about this.

However, much to your chagrin, that kind, wonderful boyfriend of yours waiting for you at your locker at the end of the day, eyebrows furrowed in concern. “Sweetheart, what’s going on? Did I do something wrong?”

The confusion swirling in his big brown eyes had tears welling in yours as you shook your head, “No, ’m sorry,” you mumbled, tucking yourself under his chin as his arms wrapped around you.

“What happened, my love?” He cooed, pressing his lips to your forehead.

“Nothin’, just got in my head,” you sighed, willing away the tears that gathered in your bottom lashes. He looked suspicious, but let it go to tuck you back into his embrace, steering you out of the school — books and homework forgotten in your locker.

The ride to his trailer was quiet, comfortably so, with Eddie’s hand on your thigh, gently kneading the muscle through your jeans. It was something he had always done, his hands never straying from your body for too long. But today the sight made you feel sick to your stomach.

In your head, you could see that same beautiful, veined hand with thick, golden fingers, adorned with clunky metal rings on another girls thigh — a much smaller and daintier leg belonging to a girl more beautiful and more deserving the place in the passenger seat of Eddie’s van and in in his heart. If he noticed your silent suffering, he didn’t show it while he drove; Iron Maiden played softly while Eddie hummed along per usual.

It wasn’t until you’d gotten into Eddie’s trailer that he said anything — something entirely out of character for him — but you were too in your head to notice. “Alright, baby, time to tell good ol’ Eddie what’s bothering you. Because I can see those tears from here, and I’ve seen them in your eyes since lunch. Fess up babe,” he rambled, his tone light, but you knew him too well.

You could see the way his hands shook as he rubbed them on the outside of his pants, pulling off his Dio vest and leather jacket as he spoke, his voice wavering on hysterical; he was anxious. The tears you had swallowed came back with a vengeance, immediately slipping down your cheeks as he gasped.

“No, no, no, my love! I don’t want you to cry! Just please tell me what I’ve done and I’ll—“

“You d-didn’t do a-anything, Eds,” you stuttered through the tears, “I’m j-just sensitive is all, a-almost my period,” you lied, and Eddie’s frown deepened, taking two steps toward you to catch your face in his hands.

“Princess, light of my life, I know you’re lying to me,” he whispered, brushing a thumb over your cheek to wipe away a tear. You shook your head, trying to deny his accusations, but you couldn’t force another lie out of your mouth even when you tried. “Oh. I think I know,” he trailed off.

“Eds really, I’m okay, I just am having a rough day and I don’t—“

“No, baby, I should have put it together earlier. When Missy was wearing Jeff’s shirt at lunch, I saw the look on your face. I’m sorry I’ve never given you one of my shirts to wear, I just never thought about it. But I swear, princess, I want to see it.”

Ice ran through your veins at his words. You tried to protest — you really did — but somehow you ended up in the tight bathroom of Eddie’s trailer, struggling to pull his shirt over yourself as tears streamed down your face silently. It was tight and uncomfortable as you struggled, the enclosed space making your skin sticky as you fought the fabric.

Your reflection in the mirror made you feel sick — his shirt looked like a crop top on you. The soft skin of your tummy hanging out the bottom, and the white material was stretched thin across your chest, making your breasts look somehow larger than they were.

“Sweetheart, let me in, I wanna see you,” Eddie’s voice called out sweetly.

You couldn’t contain the sob that forced itself out of your chest. The thought of Eddie seeing you like this made you wish his bathroom had a window you could fit out of, so you could simply disappear instead of having to face him like this.

“No, Eddie, you can’t come in,” you choked out, and he went silent for a second before the doorknob started twisting.

“Why are you crying, sweetheart? What’s wrong? Are you okay? Please let me in,” he begged.

You tried to keep the words in, but the earnest tone of his voice tore them out of your mouth before you could stop them, “Missy was wearing Jeff’s shirt and she looked so cute and so small and I know I’ll never look like her. I shouldn’t even be with you Eddie, you’re so beautiful, you deserve someone as beautiful as you are — like Chrissy or Jennifer — and I don’t know why you even want to be with someone like me.”

“Sweetheart just open the door,” he pleaded.

“No, just give me a minute and let me change and just drop it okay? You don’t wanna see me like this, just please go away,” you whimpered softly.

His frantic pulling on the doorknob stopped for a second, followed by a tiny, almost imperceptible click, and then the door was swinging open to reveal your boyfriend, lock pick in hand.

Time seemed to slow as he stared at you, his eyes going wide and his jaw falling open in shock as he looked at you. Every insult you’d ever heard came flooding back through your mind as you tried to prepare yourself for Eddie’s inevitable disgust.

“Eddie please just go,” you begged, crossing your arms over your stomach to hide from him. You tried not to choke on a sob as he stared at you, frozen in the doorway, expression unreadable in his eyes. “I-I’m sorry, I’ll take it off, I’m sorry I stretched it out and I’ll give you the money to make a new one; just please don’t-don’t leave me because I look—“

Your words seemed to snap him out of his daze, his eyes zeroing in on your face as his eyebrows furrowed. “Baby, I don’t know why you’re apologizing,” he said quietly, straightening himself out and taking careful steps toward you.

You sagged in defeat as he moved toward you, “Because I’m fat, Eddie and I ruined your shirt and I’m not good enough for you and I’m too selfish to let you go when I know you deserve better than me. But I’ll try! I’ll try for you, I swear I will, I love you so much, I’ll lose some weight, just please—“

“Don’t.” Eddie said firmly, crowding you into the corner of the bathroom, his hands on your cheeks as he stood over you. “Do not say another mean word about yourself, or change a single hair on your pretty little head. I love you, exactly as you are.”

“You don’t mean that,” you hiccuped softly, curling in on yourself.

“Hey, look at me baby,” he ordered. You turned your eyes up at him slowly, “You are perfect. God I mean, look at you.”

Tears started falling again as you felt the weight of his words settle on you. “Just look at yourself,” your parents would say, grinding your self confidence into powder under their heels.

“I’m sorry,” you whimpered sadly.

Eddie sighed, grabbing your hand in one of his, placing it on his bulge without a word. The shock of his action stunning you into silence, effectively stopping your tears. A sweet smile spread across his face as you looked up at him in confusion before he was bending down to press a kiss to your forehead, “The only thing you have to be sorry about is saying all those nasty things about my girl. Shit baby, if I would have known how goddamn sexy under those baggy shirts, I would have burned all your other clothes before this.”

“Stop, it’s not funny,” you whined, turning away from him, but his hand caught your chin, fingers digging into your cheeks as he forced you to look into his eyes.

“Princess, I’m not joking,” he said seriously, “I thought I was fucking dreaming when I opened the door. Seeing you standing here in nothing but your jeans and my shirt? I thought I’d died and gone to heaven.”

“But Eddie it’s so small on me, I look so—“

“God that’s the best fuckin’ part babe,” he groaned, “I didn’t know I needed to see you in a tight little crop top, but you are so… Fuck, you put those cheerleaders to shame, angel.”

You could feel your face heating up under his heady gaze — the look in his eyes was dark and nearly feral. He looked hungry; hungry for you.

“My pretty little baby,” he cooed, closing the gap between the two of you, letting his chest brush against yours, “Doesn’t even know how perfect she is, hm? Guess I need to treat my girl better; don’t I?”

“N-no, you’re perfect, Eds,” you sighed as he dropped his head into the crook of your neck, planting sloppy kisses along the skin.

“No, princess, you’re perfect. I can’t believe I’ve never gotten you in my clothes before, never gotten you naked before, I’m such an idiot,” he huffed, hands beginning to wander over the exposed skin of your tummy. “God, I love your fuckin’ skin. As soon as I touch it it’s like electricity is running through me. Always wanted to know what you felt like, bare under my hands,” he slurred, his hands moving to cup your breasts. “And your tits? Fuck, sweetheart — I love your tits, y’know that? They’re fuckin’ heavenly.”

“Eddie,” you whined, letting your head drop back onto the small, square bathroom window. Eddie’s hands were lighting a fire in your veins.

“Am I allowed to pick you up, my pretty girl?” Eddie asked softly, “Because I wanna take you to bed so bad, sweetheart. Fuck you so good, make you cum till you’re crying and forget all those mean things you think about yourself. Wanna fill that pretty pussy and keep you all fucked out and cockdrunk in my bed. Can I do that? Will you let me take you to bed, and fuck you like I’ve been dying to for ages now?”

“Eddie, I don’t know if you can—” you whispered, but you were cut off by Eddie’s hands digging into the plush skin of your thighs before lifting you off the ground easily.

You yelped, wrapping your arms around his neck and threading your fingers into his hair. “My tiny little thing thinks I’m some sort of weakling? Can’t hold up my precious girl? I really haven’t been treatin’ you like you deserve, sweetheart,” he mumbled into your neck, as your thighs wrapped around his waist.

He managed to squeeze you both out of the small bathroom before crossing the distance to his bed and dropping you unceremoniously. You hit the mattress with a gasp, feeling dazed as the room spun slightly.

When you were able to refocus your gaze, all you could see was him, hovering at the end of the bed — your mouth beginning to water as you stared at his heaving chest. He’d pulled his shirt off in the few moments you’d been dazed — the patch of dark hair that trailed from his bellybutton to the hem of his pants pulled your focus immediately.

God you’d never wanted him so bad in your life. You wanted to devour him, feel his cock unhinging your jaw and lodging itself into your throat — but you also wanted him inside you, desperately. You’d cum with his name on your lips as you fucked yourself into oblivion night after night in the safety of your sheets, thinking about his long, thick cock splitting you open.

“Eddie, please,” you groaned, your eyes rolling back in your head as you squirmed on his bed. The ache in your cunt was making your brain hazy with need.

“Just gimme a minute, sweetheart, I gotta burn this image into my head. Gonna think about you like this for the rest of my fuckin’ life, like fuck, babe, you’re the goddamn dream,” he groaned, grabbing your ankle, lifting it up to his cheek, nuzzling into the sliver of skin between the hem of your jeans and the top of your shoe before pressing a soft kiss there. “I’m gonna treat you right, sweetheart, but I gotta know if you’re okay with this first. Because I don’t ever, ever, wanna make you feel uncomfortable. If you say stop, I’ll stop, no questions asked, but baby please, I gotta see you, all of you.” You responded with a single nod, the words dying in your throat as he stared at you from behind his fluttering eyelashes. His pupils were blown wide with lust, and you could have sworn you had never felt more desired in your life. “None of that, I need words, princess. Tell me that this is okay, and I’ll spend the rest of the night worshiping you like you deserve.”

You thought for a moment about every interaction you’d ever had with Eddie, trying to come up with a single reason you shouldn’t trust him with all of you. When you came up woefully short, all you could do was whisper a small, “I trust you.”

A near feral groan coming out of his chest as his head snapped back, his shoulders sagging in relief. “Fuck,” he moaned sinfully, “You’re gonna make me blow my load in my pants if you keep talking like that,” he smirked, making you giggle. “Now, let’s get my princess out of these clothes.”

You bit back a sigh as he pulled the shoe off your foot slowly, letting it drop to the floor next to him before peeling off the sock. The feeling made you shiver as his fingers ran over the sensitive skin of your foot, tracing the tendons and veins lightly — almost as if to commit it to memory — before putting your ankle onto his shoulder and grabbing your other leg, repeating the action of pulling off your shoe and sock. As soon as he placed the other foot on his shoulder, he was dropping to his knees at the foot of the bed, hands running up the covered expanse of your legs gently.

“I’m gonna take your pants off now baby, is that okay?” He asked, looking up at you from between your legs.

The sight made you sigh, only being able to let out a breathy “Yeah,” in response to his question. He grinned, hooking his fingers into the waistband of your jeans, taking his time to unbutton and unzip your pants torturously slow before finally beginning to strip you of them — leaving you covered only by the thin strip of maroon lace, barely hiding your pussy from his heavy gaze.

You half expected him to dive into your cunt face first based on the look in his eyes, but Eddie’s hands splayed out across your exposed skin, silent as he kneaded at your naked flesh, watching how the dimpled skin reacted under his purposeful movements. He crawled up your body slowly, dragging his mouth across your soft skin before resting his chin on your stomach, his hands buried underneath you to grab at your ass.

“I’m mad at you,” he mumbled, dropping his forehead, mouthing at the plump skin of your belly and tracing his tongue along your stretch marks, “Been hiding this from me for so long, s’mean, baby. Keeping these thighs, and this tummy, and your pretty pussy away from me? Not anymore, nuh uh, not gonna let you hide anymore. Not now that I know I’ve got the prettiest baby in the universe.”

You felt your face heat up at his words, the argument on the tip of your tongue, but the words were stolen from your mouth when Eddie’s mouth attached itself to your cunt as he sucked on the thin material of your panties lewdly. The ghost of pressure on your clit made you jolt, a shiver running down your spine.

“Oh, my baby is so worked up,” he cooed softy, placing a chaste kiss on your pubic bone before crawling up the bed to lay on the pillows. You stared at him in confusion as he got himself comfortable, his eyes meeting yours before he smirked. “Don’t be shy now, come sit on my face.”

You sputtered for a few seconds, unable to process the words that had just come out of his mouth. “Eddie, you-you can’t I mean-I’m too—“

He simply sighed and grabbed your wrist, pulling you on top of him with nearly no effort, his eyes narrowed as your knees slotted over his thin waist. “You say another word about this body — this fucikn’ amazing, sexy, unbelievable body of yours that I love and worship — I will have no choice but to punish you, got it?” You nodded solemnly at the seriousness of his tone, making the pretty smile you were used to grow on his face. “Now be a good girl and sit on my face.”

Good girl. The words burned through you like lightning, and you knew you’d do almost anything to hear them again. Especially falling out of his mouth sounding like honey and the promise of forever — of more. So you swallowed the protest that threatened to escape you and shuffled up his body until your knees were planted on both sides of his head.

“That’s right sweetheart, now just sit,” he commanded, pulling your panties to the side with his thumb and slamming your hips down onto his face with his arm wrapped around your back.

The sensation was almost too much to handle, his warm, wet tongue licking a fat stripe up your cunt, circling your clit with his tongue before dragging the appendage back through your folds slowly to tease at your opening. You couldn’t stop your hips from rocking against his ministrations, both your hands burying themselves in his hair, earning a groan. “Fuck, Eddie,” you moaned.

“Fuck baby, you taste so good,” he groaned into you, the vibrations zinging through you, setting your nerves alight.

“Eddie-fuck!” you choked out a yelp, your thighs tightening around his head as your hips moved of their own volition. You could barely focus on a single sensation at once, Eddie’s hands were everywhere — on your ass, running up your exposed thighs, pawing at your tits that were still covered by the too small Hellfire shirt.

You now understood why girls would rave about getting eaten out by their boyfriends — his mouth on your cunt felt like heaven. You almost couldn’t remember why you’d never done it before, because the sounds he was making as he ate you, the way he touched you, and the way he made you feel was intoxicating. You felt sexy and powerful in a way you’d never felt before, especially with how he spoke to you.

“Come on pretty baby, cum on my face, lemme hear those sweet noises you make just for me,” Eddie hissed before wrapping his lips around your clit and sucking harshly, ripping the orgasm from you forcefully as you wailed and shook in his hold.

The sensation of your orgasm tearing through you had you losing all sense of reality. You felt like you were flying, or dying, or both at the same time, and you never wanted it to end. “Fuck, daddy, ’sgood,” you mumbled, unable to stop the word from coming out of your mouth.

You didn’t even realize you had said it until you were flipped onto your back with Eddie in your face, eyes dark and full of ravenous lust. “What did you say?” he ground out through gritted teeth. You shook your head, tears welling in your vision as you tried to think of an excuse. “My pretty baby, still needs to learn how to use her words,” he sighed before pushing your knees up to your chest, slotting himself between them. “That's okay, I’ll teach you.”

Without warning, and without a second of hesitation, he was ripping the thin lace nearly to shreds and pushing a finger into your warmth, grinning sadistically when your eyes rolled back. His pace was slow and brutal, pulling out all the way before slipping back in in perfect measured strokes, as if he was keeping time in his head to some unknown song devised purely to drive you insane.

“That’s right, take my fingers like a good girl,” he smirked, adding another finger without losing his rhythm. You could feel every ridge and bump of his fingers, the cool metal of his ring touching your spread open warmth made heat flare in your belly as you could barely breathe let alone function with his relentless pace, and each measured thrust of his fingers made your brain grow fuzzier. “Now tell me again what you said baby and I’ll reward you.”

The promise of more had you folding easily as you panted a soft, “Daddy, please,” arching your back and rutting your hips into his perfectly measured thrusts. You were rewarded with Eddie’s teeth sinking into the meat of your thigh, another wave of arousal running through you. Your face burned with shame as you heard the wet sound of his fingers slamming into you.

“You like that, don’t you? You like when daddy’s a little mean, hm?” he teased softly, pulling his fingers all the way out of you, staring at your pussy as it fluttered. “You want me back in there, don’t you baby? Your little hole is desperate to get filled isn’t it?” he asked, making you nod as you bit your lip to stop from begging. “Don’t worry princess, daddy’s got you. Just gimme a second, gotta make sure you’re all ready for me,” he grinned.

“Eddie, please, I need you to—“ you started to beg, but Eddie shushed you with another sharp nip to your inner thigh, pulling an embarrassingly high pitched moan out of you.

“Don’t rush me, angel. I’m a tactile learner, and I need a moment to acquaint myself with my new earmuffs before I ruin that pretty hole of yours, got it?” he said firmly. His casual tone made you clench around nothing, feeling more wetness seep out of you onto your thighs. You nodded, sinking back onto his pillow as you tried to catch your breath.

He hummed happily, sitting back on his heels to look at you again, “I can’t get enough baby, I’m sorry, I just—fuck you’re so pretty,” he rambled, “I don’t understand why you’d ever think you’re anything less than perfection. I mean, shit baby, you’re a fuckin’ goddess. My own personal Aphrodite,” he smiled, kissing the inside of your knee.

His impassioned words made you shiver and squirm, and you could feel your arousal pooling on the sheet under you. You knew Eddie had a way with words, but you never expected him to be able to break through years of self deprecation and insecurities with a few compliments.

But even more so than his words was the way Eddie held you and touched you. His fingers trailed over your stretch marks like they were paint strokes of a priceless work of art, and his mouth moved over your skin as if he was savoring the taste of something expensive. It was addicting to feel so loved and wanted — Eddie was addicting.

Ever since the first time you’d met, you realized he had entirely invaded your mind. You hadn’t spent a single day not thinking of him, always finding a reason to be with him or even just talk to him on the phone. Eddie had you — hook, line, and sinker.

“I love you, Eddie,” you sighed, his hands coming to a stop on your stomach.

The next thing you knew he was hovering inches above your face, his eyes glassy as his guitar pick hit your chin, “Don’t say it if you don’t mean it baby, because I’ll really get my hopes up if you do and that would just break my heart if you don’t—“ he started rambling, but you cut him off with a soft hand on his cheek.

“I mean it, Eddie. I love you. I’m sorry I’ve been too scared to say it,” you smiled softly, feeling a tear hit your face. A shred of guilt bubbled in your gut as he stared into his eyes — he had made it clear when he told you he loved you a few weeks prior that he wasn’t expecting you to say it back until you were ready. And you hadn’t been — until now.

“Fuck, princess, I love you. You’re mine now. Mine forever. I’m never letting you go. You look like this and you love me? Never letting anyone take you away from me, baby,” he breathed, crushing his lips to yours firmly. You could taste the tang of your essence on his tongue as it invaded your mouth, his hands pushing under his Hellfire shirt.

He pulled back with a soft smile, kissing the tip of your nose before peeling the shirt off, his eyes going wide as he studied you. You watched his eyes move over every inch of you, no curve or dimple going unseen by him.

“Jesus Christ. I have to be dead. No way in hell God is letting you walk around dripping in pure sin,” he mumbled, mostly to himself. It would have made you giggle if it didn’t make your mouth dry and fanned the flames of desire in your gut.

“Eddie, please,” you sighed, hooking your heels around his waist, pulling him closer to you.

“Gimme a minute, sweetheart. I’m discovering a new religion,” he groaned, sucking his bottom lip between his teeth before sinking back into his position between your spread thighs, “And I’ve found my place of divine worship,” he smirked before burying his face in your cunt.

The sounds he was making bordered on obscene, but you weren’t much better. The high pitched breathy whines leaving your mouth would have made you embarrassed a few hours ago, but now, you couldn’t feel anything but love and desire. It wrapped around you, filling you with a warmth that only Eddie could provide.

The way he devoured you was different — the first time was fueled by a desire to tease, but this was ravenous. His eyes were rolled back as he lapped at your cunt messily, grunts and moans coming out of his mouth. His arm pinned your hips to the mattress, not letting you move an inch as his free hand toyed with your nipples lazily. The feeling of the cold chain on his wrist pressing into your soft tummy and the cold metal buckle of his watch on your hipbone kept you grounded.

“Don’t fight me, angel, let me make you feel good,” he slurred into your pussy, eyes half closed as he pulled back. “Gonna fuck you so good, sweetheart. Gonna make you feel so good,” he sighed, slipping his fingers back into your cunt with a moan, the cold of his metal rings meeting your cunt made you flinch. “See, I belong in here, she opens up for me so sweetly. Squeezin’ me so tight like she never wants to let me go. Made for me, princess. You were made for me, little bunny. I always knew you were, but now I know for sure.”

It was almost embarrassing how fast your orgasm was coming, but you could feel it building quickly. “Fuck, daddy, please,” you cried out, grabbing his forearm where it sat across your hipbones.

“That’s right baby, cum for me. Give me your blessing,” he smirked, his fingers crooking upwards, slamming into the spot that only he seemed to be able to find, and you came apart with a scream.

You felt like you couldn’t breathe let alone think, your whole body being ripped at the seams and put back together again and again, galaxies appearing in your vision and you almost understood what Eddie was talking about. You couldn’t form coherent words as you were blinded by your orgasm, only managing to mumble out a broken, “Please don’t leave,” through the tears.

“My sweet crybaby, I’m not going anywhere. I’m keeping you forever. No one will ever compare to you,” he whispered in your ear, continuing to work his fingers inside you. “Do you think you can take more, sweet girl? Or are you done for today—“

“No! Please, Eddie, I need you to fuck me,” you sobbed, nails digging into his shoulders, “I just need a second, that’s all. I want you, please.”

“Shit baby, you don’t need to beg,” Eddie laughed, kissing your forehead before pulling his fingers out of you with a groan. Through bleary eyes you could see Eddie take his fingers into his mouth, his eyes rolling back as he sucked them clean with a moan, “Fuck, angel. I’ll never get enough of how you taste. So sweet, and all for me.”

The sheer possessiveness in Eddie’s voice made you melt, a shiver running through you as he stared into your eyes, the warm brown a tiny ring around the dark black irises blown wide. “Please, Eddie, I want you to fuck me,” you pleaded, grabbing his hands.

“If you insist, baby,” he cooed gently, rolling onto his back next to you. You heard the clink of his belt coming undone, the handcuff buckle that made your head spin giving way under his dexterous fingers. You hadn’t realized you were transfixed by him, the way his fingers moved to unbutton his pants and drag the zipper down slowly before unceremoniously shoving his jeans and boxers down his long, lean legs, making you clench your thighs together with a whine. His cock sprang free and slapped against his stomach, tip already leaking.

“See something you like, princess?” he asked, making you nod wordlessly, “Good, because I’ve been painfully hard since I saw you in the bathroom, and truthfully I don’t know how long I’m gonna last baby. Your pussy tastes too good, and you’re just too damn beautiful.”

You moaned again, throwing your head back onto his pillow, choosing to ignore his chuckle as he sat between your open legs. You hummed happily feeling him part your pussy lips gently, gasping as you felt the tip of his cock drag through your folds, jolting when you felt the wet bead of pre cum on your clit. “Don’t be mean,” you pouted, opening your eyes to see Eddie smirking down at you.

“My sweet bunny, this isn’t mean,” he laughed, shaking his head, “But you like it a little mean, don’t you?”

You opened your mouth to argue with him, the words caught in your throat with a choke as the head of his cock pushed into your opening, a deep groan taking its place, “Fuck, Eddie.”

“While I do love hearing you moan my name, I rather enjoy the name you lovingly bestowed upon me,” he grinned, inching his hips forward another fraction of an inch before stopping. “Say it again, and I’ll give you what you want, princess.”

You gave in instantly, a warbley, “Please, daddy, I’ll do anything,”coming out of your mouth. The delicious burn of his thick cock splitting you open was more than you had imagined. You knew he’d be a stretch, he’d barely fit in your throat and you knew none of the toys you had hidden in your nightstand were as thick as he was.

“God, you’re just so good for me, sweetheart,” he groaned, rewarding your obedience by pushing himself forward slowly, your velvety walls opening up for him. Tears gathered in the corners of your eyes, silently slipping down the sides of your cheeks, disappearing into your hair. “I love you, my little crybaby,” he cooed, “I know you like it when I’m mean, so don’t try to lie to me. And I’m only gonna ask you this once. Do you want me to be nice, or do you want me to fuck you how I feel my girl needs to be fucked?” You couldn’t do anything but nod dumbly, making him laugh. “I thought so. It’s okay baby, let daddy take care of you.”

With that, he pushed himself all the way in, stealing the air from your lungs and whatever remaining thoughts you had as he did. You lost control of the moans coming out of your mouth, each one more strangled and desperate than the last, and you couldn’t think of anything but Eddie — the way he felt on top of you, the dark black ink that marked his chest, the toe curling pressure of his cock forcing its way into you, and the light catching the sparkly red pick he always kept around his neck swaying back and forth with the time of his thrusts.

But what consumed you was Eddie’s moans. The deep, guttural, raspy moans that sounded like music as they poured out of his throat, veins protruding from his bared neck as the ends of his frizzy hair tickled your skin. You wanted to sink your teeth into the pale expanse, marking him as yours for everyone to see, your mouth nearly watering at the idea.

“I’m not gonna last baby,” he groaned, sounding strained as he squeezed your joined hands, pressed firmly against the mattress, “Where do you want me to cum, sweetheart?”

“Inside,” you whined out, clenching around him at the thought of it as your legs tightened around his waist, locking him against you. The loud, desperate moan that came out of him seared itself into your brain as his hips stuttered to a stop, his pelvis pressed against yours as you felt his cock pulsing inside you, along with the warmth of his cum flooding into you. You didn’t fight the moan of your own at the sensation, feeling your skin tingle with sweat as you teetered on the brink of a third orgasm.

“Fuck, sweetheart, I’m sorry, I couldn’t stop myself,” he panted, his hips jolting every few seconds making you yelp when he ground down onto your sensitive clit, “You can’t just say shit like that and expect me not to lose it angel,” he sighed, pulling out of you with a hiss.

You whined loudly, catching his attention as you reached out for him, your hands burying in his hair as your arms wrapped around his neck.

“What do you need, sweet pea?” he asked, kissing the tears off your cheeks, “Do you need to cum again or are you too overstimulated?” he questioned softly. You couldn’t find the words to respond, only coming up with another desperate whine and a roll of your hips against his softening cock. He grinned victoriously, “That’s my dumb little baby, bein’ so desperate for me even though it hurts so good, doesn’t it?” You nodded solemnly, more tears leaking out of your eyes as you did. “I’ve got you, don’t worry princess.”

His fingers on your clit brought spots to your vision, your mouth falling open in a silent scream as you gasped and writhed against him, unable to focus on anything but the sensation of his fingers on you, and the look of absolute love and devotion in his eyes. “Kiss me,” you gasped.

The next thing you knew, his tongue was in your mouth and your body was convulsing against his hold, the rings on his fingers biting into your skin as he squeezed you impossibly closer to him with one hand and the other rubbed quick, harsh circles on your sensitive clit.

You went boneless against him, fully spent as you came down from your third high. You vaguely registered Eddie’s body moving off the bed and the sound of water running before his hands — his annoyingly pretty, devastatingly talented hands, were rubbing circles into the skin of your inner thighs with a soft washcloth before throwing it somewhere and settling himself beside you.

“You doing okay there, honey?” he asked, kissing your cheek as he maneuvered you into his lap, head resting on his chest as you laid between his open legs. “Did I go too hard?” You shook your head, giving him a soft, dazed smile.

“You were perfect Eddie,” you sighed, letting yourself relax against him, kissing the spider tattoo on his chest making him shiver and laugh.

“No, you got it wrong baby, you are perfect. Jesus Christ, letting me cum inside you and taking three orgasms like a goddamn champ? I swear you were fuckin’ made for me,” Eddie sighed dreamily, making you laugh. After a few moments of silence, he tensed and began stuttering, “I-uh-do have to ask though. A-are you, like, you know—“

“Yes, babe, I am on the pill. We don’t need any little Munson’s showing up before we even graduate,” you laughed, his body sagging in relief.

“Oh fuck, Jesus, you’re the best. I love you so fuckin’ much it should be criminal,” he sighed, kissing the top of your head.

“I love you too, Eddie.”

You sat in silence for a moment, before Eddie groaned, “Seriously though, princess. I’m gonna need you to buy a pair of shorts like, immediately. But you can not wear them to school because I will have to bend you over a desk and fuck you in front of everyone so they all know you’re mine.”

“I mean… I should still have my scoops ahoy uniform from last summer at my house? I could bring it next time—“

Eddie slunk out from under you, on his feet and pulling on his jeans before you could blink. You stared at him, mouth open as he gathered your discarded clothes and threw them to you, “Nope we’re gonna go get it now, because I need to see this.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fluff #stranger things smut #stranger things fluff #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson x plus size reader

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stevie-petey · 4 months

Text

episode two: trick or treat, freak

“Why do you only ever care about me when I’m some kicked fucking puppy?” Steve’s words are vicious, and you flinch at his tone. “You know that’s not true,” “It’s not?” He scoffs at you. “Then explain what happened this summer.” “I…” You can’t. Steve sees your reluctance to say anything and lets out a harsh laugh. “Yeah, whatever. Some real fucking friend you were.”

Summary: you and nancy have a bonding session in the library (kinda hot tbh), billy gives jonathan and steve a common cause to unite on: Protect Y/N, you're a chauffeur to a very sad steve harrington, and dustin uses will's trauma to his advantage.

Rating: general, slight cursing

Warnings: fem!reader, use of y/n, slight sexual harassment (billy corners reader and is gross), cursing, alcohol

Words: 7.9k

Before you swing in: hello ! new chapter, we've arrived at halloween !! i finally get to have a fun authors note comment: i crashed my car lol. i'm fine tho and i hope yall enjoy and like what ive done and changed a bit with this episode. i had fun coming up with costume ideas for the reader, i think the character fits her well :) and before i go: i start school next week, so updates will def be coming a bit slower after this. anyways, happy reading !

The Henderson house is pure chaos morning of Halloween.

Dustin is running around the house, screaming about how his costume has to be absolutely perfect and that if you don’t hurry up with the jack-o-lantern pancakes then he’s going to just leave without eating breakfast. Meanwhile your mother is running after him, straightening his suit and tidying his hair.

“The pancakes are almost done, my god.” You flip the last pancake, but in your rush the jack-o-lantern’s smile turns into more of a grimace, but hey, food is food. You quickly set Dustin’s plate down on the table and practically shove him into the seat.

“Eat.”

“But my proton blaster–”

“Is on the steps, I’ll grab it. Eat, I want pictures with you.” You kiss the top of your brother’s head and then run over to grab his costume’s prop.

“I’m thirteen now, I don’t need my sister doting on me–” Dustin complains, but then his eyes land on the mini Reese’s Pieces you’ve decorated his pancakes with and quickly changes his tone. “Oh! Candies! Yummy!”

You laugh at him and bring his backpack over. The Ghostbusters matching costume idea that boys have planned for today makes you want to just sweep them all into your arms and kiss their tiny little faces. They may be getting older with crushes and angsty feelings, but they’re still the same nerdy little boys you met when you were twelve.

Dustin wolfs down his pancakes and your mom prepares her camera. You woke up earlier than usual this morning specifically so that you could make Dustin’s annual Halloween pancakes and then take pictures of him with his costume on. As soon as he’s done eating, you and your mom whisk him towards the fireplace for pictures.

“Oh, I want to see those pearls!” Your mother squeals as she takes a million pictures of Dustin. When he smiles, she loses her mind. “Yeah! Lovely, I love it!”

You’re just as ecstatic as your mom. “Who you gonna call Dustin?”

“Ghostbusters!” He sings along, holding up his proton blaster with an even wider smile on his face.

It’s a happy morning.

Dustin puts on a show as he poses for your mom, and you even join in for some. Sure, you aren’t in costume, but who knows how many more mornings like these you have left? Dustin is getting older, all the boys are, so you plan on cherishing these mornings for as long as possible.

You and Dustin are giggling as you now stand back to back, him holding his blaster and you holding up finger guns, and your mom is taking multiple final pictures when Jonathan arrives. He knocks on the door before letting himself in. When he sees you and Dustin posing, he starts loudly belting the Ghostbusters song.

“God, bee. At least let my coffee kick in before you subject me to your horrible singing.” You playfully groan, grabbing your own backpack and pancakes to eat on the road.

Jonathan ignores your teasing and ruffles Dustin’s hair. “Nice costume, bud.”

Dustin, seemingly still holding a grudge against the guy after your conversation from last night, slaps his hand away and glares at him. “Don’t mess up the hair.”

Your brother proceeds to stare Jonathan down, gives him an “I’m watching you” gesture, and then walks out the front door without any further words. You, Jonathan, and your mom all stand in the living room in varying states of emotions. You’re trying not to laugh at your brother’s antics, your mom is happily looking at the photos she took, and Jonathan is standing there in complete confusion.

“What was that about?” He asks you, slightly hurt by Dustin’s rebuff.

“Shhh,” you hand him a plate of pancakes and then walk towards the front door. “Let’s get to school, bee.”

–

At school, the mullet guy from yesterday finds you at your locker as soon as Jonathan has walked away. The two of you had been running behind schedule, so you’d told Jonathan to head to first period so at least he’d be on time while you tried to find your history textbook.

As you’re digging through your locker, the mullet guy stalks up behind you.

“I never got your name,” he says with a breathy voice, standing way too close behind you.

You straighten your back, but don’t turn around. You know that if you do, the guy will only get a kick out of having your face close to his. “You never asked.”

“So there’s some sass to you underneath all that sweetness.” His breath hits the back of your neck and you shiver, but in a way that makes you feel dirty and unclean.

“What do you want?” You ask the guy, your fingers wrapping around the textbook that you’ve finally found. If needed, you’re sure it’ll make a handy weapon. It’s only you and the guy in the hallway. Everyone else has holed up in class and you’re now regretting sending Jonathan away. You feel trapped, vulnerable, and you hate it.

Mullet man chuckles deeply, his voice reverberating against your back. “Nothing yet. Just thought I’d introduce myself to such a pretty face.”

You don’t say anything, your fingers only tighten around your textbook. If he gets any closer, you’ll swing.

Though you can’t see him, you can feel his eyes flicker to your textbook and he lets out another cruel laugh. “Loosen up, sweetheart, I won’t hurt ya.” You don’t move, and he seems to get another kick out of this. “My name is Billy. Remember that for me, alright?”

Finally Billy steps away from you and you slowly release all the tension that’s built up within you. You still don’t turn around, he hasn’t left yet, but your hands are shaking a bit and you feel unsteady.

“Would you do me a favor, Billy?” Your voice is steady, there’s no trace of the fear within you.

“I’m listening,” Billy is practically purring and you want to gag at how much his cockiness oozes around you.

You turn, now finally facing him, and slam your textbook against Billy’s chest. “Learn some fucking personal space.”

Billy’s only reaction is a smile, which only makes you more uncomfortable, but you refuse to show him this. Instead, you square your shoulders and walk towards your first class. You’ve dealt with assholes in the past; you’ve known Steve Harrington since you were twelve. But Billy is different.

You’re not sure if you want to find out just how different he is from Steve.

–

Another small highlight of your school year so far has been your study sessions in the library with Nancy resuming. The two of you had drifted apart this summer, you just rarely ever saw the girl in between your hectic work schedule and her dates with Steve, but from the first day of junior she’s helped you with your math equations and you’ve helped her with her english essays.

It’s a good trade off and you’ve enjoyed spending time with the girl. Unlike last year, Jonathan doesn’t join anymore. He can’t be too close with her now that she’s back with Steve. So, it’s just you and her for an hour every day during study hall. It’s nice, if you’re being honest.

Today though there’s something off with Nancy.

She’s been tapping her pencil on the table for the last few minutes. Right before you can politely ask her to stop, the tip of the pencil snaps in half. She sighs. “Shit,”

“There’s a sharpener over by the window,” you point towards the general direction. “Sharpen your pencil before these equations officially end my life.”

Nancy laughs, excusing herself and walks over to the sharpener.

You focus back on your homework, the equations swimming around in your brain. It’s not that you’re necessarily bad at math, but you’re no whiz at it either. You get lost in the practice problems, erasing and re-erasing frequently, and you don’t realize just how long Nancy has been gone until she returns. She sits down, and you’re about to make a horrible joke about how stupid it is to find x, when you notice how shaken Nancy looks.

“Woah, hey.” You set your pencil down and turn your attention to Nancy. “Are you okay? You look upset.”

Nancy looks towards one of the library’s private study rooms and you see Steve’s retreating figure. You gather that something’s happened between them, but it confuses you because they’ve been nothing but lovey dovey ever since they got back together. What could possibly cause strife between them?

“C’mon, you can talk to me. I’m known for my fantastic advice.” You probe again, and this time Nancy lets out a soft chuckle.

“It’s… complicated.”

“Take all the time you need. I’ve been stuck on question five for like, twenty minutes now. Any distractions are welcomed.”

Now Nancy lets out a genuine laugh and you find yourself laughing as well. The storminess behind her eyes from earlier has lessened, she looks more relaxed now. Once she’s done laughing, she takes a deep breath and starts from the beginning. “Steve and I have been having dinner with Barb’s parents.”

When Barb’s name leaves Nancy’s lips, you feel your stomach twist with guilt. Had you known this would be about Barb, you wouldn’t have pestered Nancy so much into speaking. You know how much she misses her best friend still, no one blames her.

“Well that sounds nice,” you try to comfort. “I’m sure they appreciate your company.”

Nancy bites her lip and looks away from you. “They wouldn’t if they knew Steve and I killed Barb.”

Shock washes over you. “Can I ask for some context?”

“Steve and I… When I forced Barb to come to his stupid party with me, we–we left her alone that night. By the pool…” Nancy’s voice cracks, and you grab her hand to encourage her to keep going. “We went upstairs to have sex, and Barb–she didn’t want me to leave her alone but I–I did and–”

You remember the photos Jonathan took last year, specifically the one where Barb had been sitting all by herself along the pool’s edge. Behind her had been a shadowy figure, a monster you soon would learn was from an alternate dimension with an intent to kill.

“You think Barb died because you left her alone to go have sex with Steve.” You finish for Nancy, her tears rendering her unable to say more.

She nods, looking away again as more tears stream down her face. You feel horrible for her, knowing first hand just how cruelly guilt can eat away at someone. Jonathan doesn’t know this, but you still think you’re the reason Will disappeared last year. You were the one who left him alone that night. If you had been there, if you had dropped him off at the Byers’ doorstep, you’re sure that he would’ve never ended up facing the horrors that he did.

As for Nancy, you understand everything she’s feeling and more. It isn’t fair how one simple choice, one moment of selfishness, can lead to such tragedy and pain.

Cautiously, you ask Nancy a question. “Does Steve know about the guilt you feel?”

“He knows, but he doesn’t understand.” Nancy’s voice laces with grief and bitterness. “He found me by the pencil sharpener. There was this girl, she looked so much like Barb and I just… I zoned out. I was stuck there, thinking about her, when he found me.”

“Did he notice you were upset?”

“Of course he noticed. He’s Steve, I could shed a single tear and he’d be all over me like I’m some baby.” Nancy scoffs, which makes you frown. You’re not sure what’s so wrong with that, having someone so attuned to your emotions because they love you that deeply.

You push aside your thoughts, however. “What happened, then?”

“We went into a study room and I snapped.” Nancy’s close to tears again. “I just… I want to tell Barb’s parents what really happened. They’re selling their house, Y/N. They’re selling their own home to afford this private detective who promised them he’d find out what happened to her. What–what kind of person would I be if I let my best friend’s parents go bankrupt for being worried about their only child?”

“Nancy…”

“And Steve, he just… He told me it was a bad idea, that–that our families could get hurt and all that bullshit, but what am I supposed to do? I’m trying to figure something out, to fix this, and Steve just wants to go to some stupid party and pretend everything is okay?” Nancy is almost shouting now, and you nervously look around to make sure you're not disturbing anyone. It’s still a library, after all.

Nancy takes a few seconds to collect herself, to steady her breathing and control her anger. You let her take all the time she needs, and when she seems calm enough, you speak. “I understand where you’re coming from and why you’re upset. What happened to Barb is despicable, but… Well, I also agree with Steve.”

“Y/N–”

“No, okay. Listen for a second,” you pause, trying to figure out exactly how to say what you’re thinking. “I think Steve means well, he doesn’t have a malicious bone in that silly body. The Halloween party can be a good thing for you if you let it, a way to destress. You have to move on, you have to allow yourself to move on.”

Nancy tries to argue some more but you continue. “I understand your guilt better than anyone else, I was the one who lost Will that night. But we all signed those contracts, Nancy. If we told anyone what really happened to Barb… It wouldn’t be fair to everyone who gets hurt, all our family members, because we broke a legal oath. You understand that, right?”

“I understand, but it’s not fucking fair.” Nancy’s eyes have a determination in them that startles you. You’ve always known that she was fierce, but seeing the edge in her eyes almost scares you. She’s angry, more than you’ve ever seen her before.

You sigh. “I know, I wish I could do more, but…”

Nancy nods, understanding that there’s not much else you guys can do. You hate to let her down like this, you know she needs to hear something else, to feel supported, but you don’t know what else to tell her.

Steve’s right in his own way, and so is Nancy.

“Can you at least come to the party tonight?” Nancy softly pleads. “It’s just, I’ll feel more comfortable with you there, like I’m less crazy… I mean, that is if you even want to come and–”

“Of course I’ll come, Nance.” You don’t even hesitate to promise her this, nor do you realize that you’ve just called her “Nance”. It slipped from your tongue naturally, as if solidifying your friendship with the girl. You hate parties and loud crowds, but if Nancy needs you there by her side, to hold her hand and remind her of how brave she is, then you’ll happily do so.

Nancy sinks into her seat, relieved. “Thank you, I owe you one.”

“I’ll hold you to that, you know.”

Nancy throws a piece of paper at you and you dodge it, throwing your pencil at her in retaliation. The two of you break out into a fit of giggles until the librarian eventually snaps at you guys and reminds you to be quiet.

You reluctantly get back to work, and as you’re writing down more complex equations, you notice that there’s still a far off look in Nancy’s eyes. You know that she’s still thinking about Barb, the guilt eating away at her, and you know that the topic is far from settled.

–

Halloween is in full swing the second Jonathan drops you off at home from school. There’s already kids milling around up and down your block in an assortment of costumes, all squealing with joy as they collect their candy.

“Meet you in two hours?” You ask Jonathan as you unbuckle your seatbelt.

“Yeah, but remember that I’m not wearing a costume.”

“C’mon, bee! It’s Halloween, where’s your holiday spirit?”

Jonathan groans. “Nag at me all you want, I’m not dressing up. I will, however, offer to be your arm candy.”

“That’s the spirit!” You kiss Jonathan’s cheek and run out of the car and straight into your house. You have two hours to wrap up goodie bags for the neighborhood kids and then get dressed in your costume. It’ll be a tight schedule, but luckily you’re off of work tonight.

It takes you about an hour to assort all your gift bags, separating the boys’ bags from the local kids’ bags, and before you know it you’ve successfully hand packaged goodie bags for an entire army. Once you’re done, you run to your room and throw on your costume. The dress slips over your head and settles gently over you.

You stand in front of your mirror and smile.

It’s perfect.

You’re going as Princess Buttercup tonight for Halloween. You read the Princess Bride around the end of summer and quickly fell in love with Buttercup. You’re not sure if you fell in love with the character because you read the book right after pushing Steve away, or because you saw yourself in Buttercup, but you came to adore her.

Buttercup may have been a bit ditzy, but she loved with everything within her, and with such a passion, that you couldn’t help but admire her. It was her love for others that ultimately drove the story further, and you think there’s something beautiful about that.

The red dress fits perfectly around you and you grab the gold chain that will serve as your belt. Once you’ve secured it around yourself, you place Buttercup’s golden circlet around your head. The costume had been pricier than you would’ve preferred, but as you stand in front of the mirror, you truly do feel like a princess.

Your bee necklace, a wonderful gift from Jonathan, catches light from your window and you smile, bringing your fingers up to the pendant. It’s the only jewelry you need.

“Y/N! Are you almost done? Will radioed that they’d be here soon.” Dustin pounds on your door.

You fling the door open. “I’m done, I just need to put on some makeup.”

Your brother makes a face as he walks into your room and plops himself down onto the beanbag. “You own makeup?”

“Yes, dear brother. I’d wear it more often if I had the time, but between herding you around and my school assignments, I can’t.” You dig through your makeup bag, opting for just mascara and a shimmery pearl eyeshadow. You’ll put on your lipstick in the car to save some time.

“This doesn’t have anything to do with Jonathan, does it?”

You roll your eyes at Dustin. “No, believe it or not I can choose to do things without the influence of others.”

“Hmm, alright. Hurry up though, Mike had this awesome plan to hit up every house with the big candy bars and–”

“Dustin!” You throw a pillow at the boy, shutting him up. “Shush so I can focus.”

He grumbles but remains silent, now watching as you put your makeup on. It’s been a while since you’ve last worn any, so you’re slower than usual. Just as you’re finishing up your mascara, a car honks outside.

Dustin runs out the room and you quickly grab your lipstick and follow after him. You’re wearing your mother’s mary janes again and they pinch your feet as you run, but whatever. You feel pretty tonight, you’re somebody else for now, a princess free from any burdens and stress.

Jonathan is standing outside his car, waiting for you, and when you see him you practically fling yourself in his arms. “You dressed as Westley!”

He spins you around a bit, his plastic sword hitting against his leg. “You wanted me to wear a costume, right?”

You nod, inspecting his costume with glee. He looks amazing, dressed in Westley’s iconic all black attire, his sword by his side, and a mask tied loosely around his neck. To anyone else, Jonathan would look like a regular guy with an affinity for black, but to you, he was dressed as your knight in shining armor.

He’s the Westley to your Princess Buttercup.

Jonathan kisses your knuckles. “Well then, as you wish.”

His words are smooth velvet against your skin, they warm you as the late October air encases you. As you wish, words that became their own I love you within the book. A promise, similar to the one Jonathan made you last year in the passenger seat of his car, pinkies intertwined.

Something stirs within you, seeing Jonathan’s proud smirk on his face because he’s once again managed to surprise you, and the feeling is sickly sweet like syrup. It runs through you slowly, covering every inch of you, and you bask in it.

For now, he’s still yours.

“Can we go now? You guys are gross.” Dustin calls from the car, annoyed.

You and Jonathan spring apart in embarrassment. He laughs, rubs the back of his neck, and tells you, “You look beautiful, Y/N.”

“Why thank you,” you curtsy. “You look rather dashing yourself, good sir.”

“I wasn’t kidding. You look… you’re beautiful.” The sincerity in Jonathan’s voice cuts through you, it cuts through everything between you, and you can only smile.

“Thanks, bee.” You try to keep your voice playful, light and airy as always. “Now, open my door like the brave hero you’re dressed as.”

Jonathan opens your door with a bow, causing you to laugh. You’re sitting in the backseat with Dustin, Will is in the passenger seat, and once you’ve buckled up, Will spins around in his seat to talk to you as Jonathan starts the car.

“Do you think it’s lame that you and Jonathan trick-or-treat with us?

You blink. “What did I miss?”

“I think it’s kinda lame,” Dustin voices next to you, but he lets out a pained squeak after you’ve elbowed his ribs.

Jonathan turns onto the main road and scoffs at the boys. “You think we’re lame?”

“No, but…” Will sinks into his seat, and you watch as he begins to fiddle with the strap of his bag. He’s nervous. “It’s not like Nancy’s coming to watch over Mike, you know?”

Jonathan’s silent, and you catch his eye in the rear view mirror. You know what he’s thinking: Will has been having even more problems in school, he’s sick of being babied, and yet here you guys are, babying him.

You sigh. “Look, Will. We like trick-or-treating with you guys, we don’t go are your babysitters. We go because it’s fun and I get to enjoy free candy as a sixteen year old.”

Will looks out the window and doesn’t acknowledge what you’ve said. You sigh again, knowing that nothing will appease him. He’s only allowed you to see a small portion of how much he’s struggled this year, but you can see his foundations crumbling.

How is he expected to adapt if you and everyone around him refuse to let him do so?

You catch Jonathan’s eye again in the rear view mirror and he seems to be thinking the same thing.

Mike and Lucas run out the Wheeler’s house as soon as you guys park in the driveway. Dustin immediately bolts out the door to greet them, obviously uncomfortable with all the tension, leaving you and Jonathan with Will.

Jonathan looks at you one last time and you nod your head in encouragement. He has to do this, he has to let Will grow on his own.

“Hey, listen.” Jonathan says, stopping Will from leaving. “If I let you go on your own, you promise to stay in the neighborhood?”

Will’s face lights up. “Yeah! Yeah, totally.”

“And be back at Mike’s by 9:00.”

“9:30?”

You reach over and pat Will’s back. “Now you’re pushin’ it, buddy.”

“What Y/N said. Be back by 9:00.” Jonathan instructs, but there’s a fond smile on his face. “Deal?”

“Deal!”

The brothers shake on it and you watch them with a smile. Jonathan hands Will one of Bob’s cameras and makes a poor Dracula joke and you love these boys so much. You wave goodbye to Will as he quickly gets out of the car and runs over to his friends. There’s a new skip in his step, he’s happier than you’ve seen him in a while.

“Alright,” you crawl over the passenger seat and plop yourself in rather ungracefully. “I’d say that went well.”

“We made the right choice, right?”

“I hope so.”

Jonathan sighs and watches the kids, who have now started hitting each other with their candy bags. You flip down the windscreen and use the small mirror in it to apply your lipstick. When Jonathan sees what you’re doing, he does a double take.

“Wait, are you putting on lipstick?”

“Mhm,” you knit your brows together, focused. “We’re going to a party.”

“We are?”

“Nancy begged me to come, and we just left the boys to go trick-or-treating on their own, so what else are we supposed to do tonight?”

“Nancy begged you to come–”

You finish your lipstick and flick Jonathan’s nose to shut him up. “Stop asking so many questions and just start the car, doofus.”

–

The Halloween party is in full swing by the time you and Jonathan arrive. There’s a bunch of drunk teens in an array of costumes, ranging from classic heroes to dumb movie references, and the music is so loud you could hear it while you were still five blocks away.

Jonathan parks the car and looks around wearily. “Are we really doing this?”

“Unfortunately I hate disappointing people, so yeah. We are.”

“One day your people pleasing needs will get you in trouble.”

“I will stab you with your plastic sword.”

“So sweet to me,” Jonathan quips, which you roll your eyes at.

As you’re walking to the front door, you hear a crowd chanting Billy’s name. You freeze, knowing it could only be that awful mullet guy from earlier, and quickly shove Jonathan inside the house.

“Who’s Billy?” He asks, confused.

You shake your head. “Don’t worry about it, let’s try to find Nancy–”

“Nice costume.” A girl dressed in goth attire interrupts you, her eyes only on Jonathan.

Oh great. Another girl interested in Jonathan.

Jonathan looks between you and the girl. “Huh?”

“Nice costume. Going as a goth with a sword?”

“Actually,” you step in front of Jonathan now, forcing the girl to acknowledge your presence. “We’re matching. He’s Westley, I’m Princess Buttercup. Do you like it?”

The goth girl rolls her eyes. “Yeah, totally.” She steps past you and faces Jonathan again. “I’m Samantha.”

Jonathan is again looking between you and the girl, this time with even more fear and confusion on his face, and you almost want to laugh at him in pity. He’s never had a girl so blatantly hit on him, it’s almost hilarious if you ignore the fact that you’re in love with him.

You leave Jonathan to handle the situation himself, scanning the room for Nancy. When you finally spot her, your heart sinks. She’s dancing with Steve, who looks fucking criminally good in his costume. You’re not sure who he’s dressed as, but he puts his Raybans in his mouth and smirks at Nancy and suddenly you understand why so many girls whisper in the halls about his lips.

Nancy looks even better, her white blouse accentuating her beauty even more. She’s dancing with her arms around Steve and now you suddenly really want a drink. Seems like they’ve made up, then.

Right as you’re about to pull Jonathan away from that Samantha girl and call it quits for the night, defeated and pride wounded, you see Steve and Nancy begin to argue over by the punchbowl.

Shit.

You head towards them, shoving past hoards of people who seem to refuse to move. Nancy sees you approaching and only seems to become more upset. Her movement is unsteady, her eyes droopy and glossed over, and even before you walk up to her you know she’s heavily drunk. She’s in a tug of war with Steve and a cup. It’s clear he’s trying to cut off her alcohol intake.

“Hey, Nancy is everything okay–” Your words are cut off as punch splashes all over her white blouse.

Everyone around the couple gasps, and you wince at all the attention. Everyone stares between you, Steve, and Nancy. You quickly find some napkins and begin blotting at her blouse, trying to get as much of the punch out of it, but she drunkenly bats you away.

“Don’t need help,” she slurs, but you shush her.

“I got it, why don’t we go get some water?”

Steve steps in front of you now, aware of the fact that everyone is still staring, and says his first words to you in months. “She’s my girlfriend, I’ll take care of her. Just… just go, Y/N.”

He dismisses you with a wave and you feel hurt wash over you. He hadn’t even spared you a single glance, he just treated you like some annoying fly in his way. You watch, defeated, as Steve guides Nancy to a room and you’re left alone at a party you hadn’t even wanted to go to in the first place.

How fun.

You crumble up one of the napkins in your hand and will away your anger. You don’t deserve to feel angry at Steve’s actions, you’re the one who was so dismissive of him in the first place. He’s just following along, doing what you’ve forced him to do.

As you’re lost in thought, Billy corners you in the kitchen.

“We meet again, sweetheart.” His breath reeks of alcohol and you cringe, the smell burning your nose.

“Didn’t I tell you to learn some goddamn personal space?”

Billy laughs dryly, stepping forward every time you take a step back. Too late, you realize what he’s doing. Before you can stop it, he has your back pressed against a nearby wall. “Now where’s the fun in that?”

You look around, but everyone who had been in the kitchen earlier seems to have left or are far too drunk to realize what’s happening. Billy is peering over you and every part of you wants to run away, to cower. You’ve never been able to handle aggressive men well, no matter how much of a front you put on around Lonnie, you always trembled when he was near.

Billy is no different, and he sees your unease. “Aw, is the princess nervous?”

“I’m surprised Max taught you what a princess looks like.”

At the mention of Max’s name, Billy’s cocky grin slips. Confusion masks his face now, making him appear more human than obnoxiously handsome. “So you know my little sister?”

You try to shove past him, but Billy plants his feet down and places both arms against the wall, trapping you. He’s surrounded you, he wants a reaction out of you. Taking a deep breath, you force yourself to steady your heartbeat and appear indifferent.

“I have my ways,” you shrug, but your heartbeat still pounds rapidly.

Billy raises an eyebrow. “Pretty and intelligent. Why, look at you. I’m impressed, and yet I still don’t know your name.”

You try again to move, but Billy leans his head down and brings his lips to your ear to whisper, “I’ll beg for it, if you want me to.”

“Get off–” He’s too close. He’s too fucking close and his lips against your ear makes you want to throw up, you don’t like this and you feel so fucking pathetic being cornered by such an egotistical asshole.

“Tell me your name, and I’ll go.” There’s a smile in Billy’s voice, you can hear it without even having to look, and it enrages you. You fucking hate men like him.

“Just get the fuck off of me–” You’ve closed your eyes now as you shove harshly against his chest.

Suddenly there’s a thud, a loud “oomph”, and a collective gasp from onlookers at the party. Your hands meet the air, there’s now no one there to push against. Slowly, open your eyes. There, standing in front of you, is Steve holding a very angry Jonathan back while Billy is on the ground.

Jonathan yanks his arm free from Steve and stands over Billy, who is laying on the ground with yet another unnerving smile on his face. Your friend shakes his fist out, which you now see is red, Billy’s face showcases a matching mark. “She told you to get off of her.”

A silence falls over the crowd.

Billy slowly stands up, wipes himself off, and then takes a bow. “Not bad, loner boy.”

Jonathan tries to step closer to him, but Steve grabs his shirt and shakes his head. “He’s not worth it, man.”

“And what do you know about worth, Harrington?” Billy chuckles, now practically in Steve’s face. “Where’s that little girlfriend of yours? You should go ask her what she thinks you’re worth.”

Steve’s face hardens, but you can see dried tears in his eyes. Seeing him about to crumble, you step between the boys. “Enough.”

They look at you, but you ignore them and then wave to the crowd of people still watching. “Show’s over! Go back to drinking away your sorry fucking lives.”

Jonathan pulls you close to him. “Bug, are you okay? Did he hurt you? We need to go home, I’ll bake you brownies and we can just–”

Jonathan’s concerned rambling is enough to make you smile, albeit faintly. “I’m fine, bee.”

Billy observes the interaction, he notices how Steve’s eyes flicker between your interlocked hands with Jonathan and the way your hair frames your pretty face. He sees it all, and he understands exactly what’s happening here.

“Oh, Harrington.” Billy can’t wait to see what happens next. “You’re fucked.”

Steve watches as Billy leaves, confused by his words but too tired to think much of them. He’s had the worst fucking night of his life. His girlfriend just told him she doesn’t love him, then he came outside to see Billy pressing himself against you like some fucking creep. He hadn’t even gotten to help you, Jonathan had beaten him to it. All Steve could do was hold the guy back afterwards.

Now Jonathan is holding your hands and whispering comforting words to you and you’re dressed in Steve’s favorite color, your lips an even prettier red, you’re wearing a goddamn tiara on your head like the princess you truly are, and Steve’s had just about enough of tonight.

“I’m glad you’re okay, Y/N.” Steve tells you tiredly. He then turns to Jonathan. “Uh, Nance and I sorta… Can you just, give her a ride home? She doesn’t…”

Steve’s words catch in his throat and you grab his hand before you can stop yourself. “He’ll take her, won’t you, Jonathan?”

Jonathan stumbles over his words. “Sure, uh. Yeah, I can do that… What about you, though?”

You think about your conversation with Nancy earlier, how she seemed so upset with Steve, and how not even ten minutes ago they’d been fighting over by the punchbowl. There’s a hurt between them, one you think may be too big to patch up with just one conversation, but Jonathan doesn’t know all of this.

“I’ll drive Steve home.”

Both boys stare at you like you’re insane, and honestly? You can’t blame them.

You haven’t spoken to Steve in months, and Jonathan knows this better than anyone.

“Y/N,” Steve lowers his voice. “I haven’t had anything to drink, there’s no need–”

“Too bad. I’m taking you home. Jonathan, go find Nancy and make sure she gets back okay.”

Jonathan and Steve try to argue, but you yank Steve’s hand and make him come with you. It’s long past time the two of you had a talk, anyways.

–

When you exit the house, the weight of everything that’s just happened catches up to you. Your skin still feels raw, Billy’s presence lingering on you. Steve’s hand is warm in yours, but he isn’t holding on the way you secretly hoped he would. Jonathan’s confused and concerned eyes remain in the back of your mind, the image of him standing alone in the party makes you feel guilty.

But you have to do this. You’re tired of being a coward.

Steve is silent as he guides you to his car. He’s parked pretty far, which you hadn’t been expecting. “What, do you not get a special parking spot as King Steve?”

He ignores your attempt at a joke and instead drops your hand.

Okay. You deserved that.

When you get to his car, Steve throws you the keys and silently gets into the passenger seat. You inhale, willing this to end well, and get in the driver’s seat. You start the car and the engine warms your fingertips.

You start to drive.

Steve is looking out the window, and you’ve never seen him appear so small. He’s closed into himself, his shoulders are hunched and his carefree smile from earlier is gone.

“Not to make this awkward, but I kinda don’t know where you live.” You break the silence.

“Make a left up here.”

“Do you want to talk about what happened tonight–”

“Why do you only ever care about me when I’m some kicked fucking puppy?”

Steve’s words are vicious, and you flinch at his tone. “You know that’s not true,”

“It’s not?” He scoffs at you. “Then explain what happened this summer.”

“I…” You can’t.

Steve sees your reluctance to say anything and lets out a harsh laugh. “Yeah, whatever. Some real fucking friend you were.”

You take a shaky breath. You knew this would be hard, but it still hurts more than you thought it would’ve. While you can’t tell Steve everything, you can offer him a half truth. It’s all you can afford, and it isn’t nearly half of what he deserves, but it’s all you can do. “I got scared.”

Your confession causes Steve to turn to you. “Scared?”

“Yeah, scared.”

“Gee, Y/N. That really explains a ton.”

You’re losing him again, so you offer him more. “I’m sorry, Steve. I really am. It’s just… I got scared, I’ve never been good at letting people in. I know it doesn’t excuse my actions, and you didn’t deserve any of it, but you just… You scared me.”

Steve is silent again, only mumbling a quiet, “Turn right after this light.”

“Look,” you push down your fear, you need him to hear you. “You came crashing into my life in such a violent way, and it became the best goddamn thing that happened to me. There you were, spending every day at my job just to talk to me. You asked me questions about myself and noticed things no one else had before and I just… I couldn’t do it.”

You look over at Steve and soften your voice, putting every ounce of your guilt and sincerity into your words. “I missed you.”

“Missed?” There’s something in Steve’s voice that you can’t quite decipher, it’s almost too delicate to examine.

“Miss. I miss you,” you correct, and it takes everything within you not to confess more. To tell him you miss how his eyes turn a warm toffee in the late afternoon light, that you miss his obsession with his mom’s banana bread and that you have a recipe at home that you never got to make for him. You almost tell him that even though you pulled yourself away, you can’t seem to separate him from you. He’s everywhere.

But what you can’t tell Steve, what would break you if he ever found out, is that you’ve come to love how he’s everywhere.

Steve is silent, and you swallow down your tears. It wasn’t enough, but at least you tried.

As you turn into his driveway, Steve finally speaks. “All my life, all I’ve ever wanted was for people to like me.”

“Steve…”

“And every time I think someone finally likes me, I’m wrong. They leave me. I mean, you left me without a fucking word, Nancy lied about loving me, and my bullshit friends at school have replaced me with Billy.”

Nancy lied about loving him?

Steve looks down at his hands, his eyelashes are wet with fresh tears. “I don’t know what I keep doing wrong.”

You throw yourself across the car’s console and wrap yourself around the boy. “You’ve done nothing wrong.”

Steve places one arm around you, then slowly he places his other, and for the first time in months you’re finally back in his arms. He’s surrounded in you again, and he never, ever wants to let you go.

“You won’t leave me again?”

Steve asks this so softly, as if too scared to bring the words into the light and risk them scaring you away. You tighten your arms around him and bury your nose into his neck, his cologne making your brain dizzy. “Never.

And it’s enough for now.

The pieces settle between you and Steve. Something clicks into place and you know that he feels it, too. He tightens his own arms around you, draws small circles against your back, and you stay like that for what feels like hours.

Eventually the two of you break apart and head into his house. He offers you something warm to drink, but you decline. It’s late, you should be heading home soon. You ask Steve where his phone is and then call Jonathan, telling him to come get you from Steve’s.

Jonathan doesn’t ask any questions, his own voice sounding off on the phone. You know that tomorrow you’ll have to explain to him what happened with Steve, and he’ll have to explain what’s happened with Nancy. But tonight, you both settle on ignoring the topic for now.

Steve waits with you downstairs for Jonathan.

“If we’re going to be friends again, then I demand my nickname.”

You look up at the boy and laugh. “What if I told you I still haven’t figured it out yet?”

“Can you at least give me a hint?” Steve bats his eyelashes at you and you shove him away with another laugh.

“Hm,” you think for a moment, reveling in the simplicity between you two again. “It’s lovely. That’s all I can say.”

Steve makes a face. “Lovely? That’s all I get?”

“Mhm.” You poke his face. “For now, please just trust that I’ll stay.”

Steve looks away for a moment, and you admire his lovely side profile, before he finally seems to settle on his thoughts. “Fine, but I expect some type of baked good every day from here on out.”

“Deal.” You raise your pinky and offer it to Steve, who smiles and shakes his head, but wraps his own pinky around yours.

Steve’s eyes are still red, from exhaustion and heartbreak, and yours are probably no better. You know there’s so much the two of you have to face tomorrow morning, to talk about and deal with. Nancy, Jonathan, Billy. But for now, Steve’s pinky is around yours and you couldn’t ask for a better end to your night.

It’s a start.

It’s all you could’ve asked for.

Jonathan arrives later and waits in the car, seeming to sense that you want some privacy as you say goodbye to Steve.

“That’s my ride.” You nudge him. “Oh, don’t think I forgot about the Nancy thing. We’ll talk about that tomorrow.”

“What–”

“We’re friends again and I nag all my friends about their emotions. You were spared last year, but this year? Buckle up, buddy.”

Steve lets out a tired laugh. “Do I have to sign another contract?”

“Nah, you just have to trust me.”

“I do.” He says, no ounce of hesitation.

You squeeze his hand. “Then that’s all I need. Goodnight, Steve. Get some rest.”

Steve nods and watches as you walk towards Jonathan’s car. He stays outside for a while, long after the car has faded in the distance. The cold air makes him shiver, but after everything that’s happened tonight, he welcomes it. His mind is spinning, he’s not sure if he feels more heartbreak or relief, but he decides he doesn’t care.

For now, he’s content.

Now that he has you in his life again, no matter what happens between him and Nancy, he knows he’ll get through it with you holding his hand.

–

The drive home is quiet. Both you and Jonathan seem to be lost in your own thoughts. When you get to your house, you simply tell your friend, “Tomorrow. We’ll talk about it all tomorrow,”

Jonathan nods, his eyes as tired as yours. “Tomorrow.”

You walk inside your house and notice all the lights off. You’re home later than you originally planned, your mom must be asleep already. You kick off your shoes and sigh tiredly. Tonight has exhausted you.

However, you feel bad about skipping out on the boys, so you walk towards Dustin’s room and quietly knock on the door to apologize. After a few knocks, Dustin cracks his door open. “Yes?”

“Hey, just wanted to ask how tonight…” You notice Dustin’s stance, how he seems to almost be trying to block your view of something. “Is everything alright?”

Your brother quickly repositions himself. “Fine! Nothin’ to see here!”

He’s definitely acting suspicious.

“Open the door, show me what’s inside.”

You go to shove your way in, but Dustin scrambles and ends up shouting, “Will had another episode tonight!

“What?” You freeze.

Dustin lets out a breath of relief. He knew using Will’s episode would be a good distraction from what he has in his room. “Will, he had another episode. He’s fine, though… Just thought you should know.”

“Are you okay? Do you want to talk about it?”

“Actually,” Dustin lets out a yawn. “I’m kinda tired. Ya know, trick-or-treating is hard work. Can we just call it a night and talk about it tomorrow?”

“I mean, I guess?” Your list of things you need to talk about tomorrow keeps growing.

“Sweet! Goodnight, Y/N!” And with that, Dustin slams his door in your face. He presses his back pressed against his door as he steadies his heartbeat. That was close, too close. After a couple seconds, he walks over to his turtle’s tank and greets Dart again. “Sorry buddy, had to get Y/N away. She’d freak if she found out about you.”

Dart lets out a small screech in response.

“Wonder how long I can keep this from her.”

Meanwhile, you stand in the hall for a moment, completely bewildered as to what’s just happened. It feels like you missed a few important details. There’s something happening, but you have no idea what.

You go to your room and make a plan. Tomorrow, you’ll order a code blue with Dustin and demand information. For now, all you can do is get ready for bed and hope that whatever he’s hiding, it isn’t as monumental as El had been.

Tonight, you go to bed thinking of Nancy and Steve, worried about them both.

⌑ series masterlist

⌑ if you would like to be added/removed from my taglist, just let me know :)

⌑ taglist: @siriuslysmoking @sheisjoeschateau @myeclispedsun @innercreationflower @juhdoche @frostandflamesfanfic @goosy-goose @quinnsadilla @munsons-queen @stefansring @rice-elephant @bex22109 @bitchkeery @bex22109 @officerrrfriendly @kazunish @idkitsem @emilieluckwood @ryoujoking @criesinlies

#steve harrington x henderson!reader #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #stranger things #steve harrington fanfic #stranger things rewrite #slowburn #angst #wtlws #m's writing #halloween ep ur forever iconic #and steves fit >>>#he was HOT

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callsign-songbird · 3 months

Text

OK, needed a fluffy drabble to follow up that sin. More below the cut!

Biblically accurate König headcannons

Tw: Social anxiety (I tried)

OK, ok, hear me out.

Konig is a big, scary colonel, right? With social anxiety? Omg this man.

This lumbering behemoth wall of muscle and intimidation is the type to reherse and plan what he's going to say for at least a minute or two straight before addressing his squad.

He thinks about the tone he should use, his volume, where to put inflections, how his face should move even beneath his mask, what he'll do with his hands when. And when it comes time to finally speak, he delivers his words with his heart nervously pounding in his chest, which causes his words to come out sharper and more agressive than he intends.

Everyone thinks that he's super intimidating, cold, and angry, but he's really just nervous around crowds and speaking in front of them.

Don't get me wrong, he would be more comfortable in front of his squad compared to a group of soldiers he doesn't know. But that's not saying much.

And it doesn't mean that he's "Shy" or fumbles and trips over his words nervously (even if it's a cute thought)

No, he probably actually appears quite calm, confident, and composed. Even when he's panicking internally.

Strategy and combat are easy to Konig, sometimes easier than breathing. But not standing out in a crowd? With his height? Now, that makes his palms sweat just a bit.

It's useful a lot of the time, sure. But it has its disadvantages. König probably prefers to remain in his office, in the gym, or on one of the training courses; where he doesn't have to think about what he's saying and doing, or how he's saying and doing it. He can focus his mind on something else.

OK, I know this is what you suckers want

But if you were König's person? I have a feeling he would cling very subtly to you. A new squad transfers to your base? König hardly ever leaves your side.

A lot of the time, he would make sure to be touching you in some way, too. You're probably shorter than him, so it wouldn't be irregular for him to rest a hand on your shoulder or against your arm. No one would notice if he stood a little too close and your boots were touching or your shoulder brushed against him.

It wouldn't be hard to read his tells once you pick up on them either.

Whenever he's rehersing how he'll say something in his mind, even if he's in the middle of a conversation outwardly, his eyes become focused on one or two spots while having this unfocused look in them, as if he's only half present.

Whenever he's starting to feel overwhelmed or drained in a crowd (whether he will admit to or realize it or not), he'll usually end up with one hand in his pocket, the other reaching for you or drumming on his thigh.

And as soon as it's just the two of you? Well, you best believe all he wants is to recharge. He likes holding you in his arms with your back against his chest. He loves everything about it.

He loves feeling the rise and fall of your chest, hearing your breathing, hearing your voice. He loves looking down at you and watching as you occupy yourself or relax and melt into him. He could hold you forever, you're his personal portable charger. Just the juice he needs after a stressful day. (Or any day, for that matter.)

Or, maybe you aren't the touchy type and don't really like being held? That's ok, he gets it. Really. He's more than content to simply occupy the same room as you. Your voice seems to make all of his worries go away, watching your lips move is utterly entrancing, and he can't help but get lost in your eyes; whether they're looking at him or something doesn't matter.

Long story short, biblically accurate König rules, and we stan the German chaos himbo. Even when he's not a himbo lol

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ddollfface · 4 months

Note

God, I love golden retriever men so much.

*Intensely staring at my fav athlete*

Now, that I have a brainrot~

1. Our lovely Athlete with a nerd darling.

- This would be funny. It is giving black cat × golden retriever. So hard.

- Darling has anemia? She's used to sitting around and reading? Can't walk too long to save her life? He's fucking carrying her everywhere.

- Can you imagine darling bringing a book about his sport (I don't know if you've mentioned what he plays) to the game and reading as they watch him play cuz they don't know crap about sports? He'd be so, "But you're supposed to be watching me." :Insert puppy eyes:

- He's isolating darling? Eh, Darling needs a 4 hour nap after every social gathering anyway.

Ok but-

2. Him with a nerd darling who's a childhood best friend, where darling has a childhood filled with emotional and physical abuse. (I'm finna design a whole ass character to ship him with. If you don't mind, of course.)

- This.

- Don't let me get started on this.

- They would be so power couple coded fr. (Darling knows Athlete is trying to manipulate her. Doesn't care as long as she's getting taken care of.)

- Darling is snarky with a S.

- Darling: "The cheerleader was flirting with you."

Athlete: "I know. :3"

Darling: "Go marry her."

Athlete: "But you're the love of my life. :("

Darling: "Oh, really? I could've sworn it was Cindy instead. Go to her, shoo."

Athlete: "No."

Darling: "Who's bestie are you?"

Athlete: "Yours."

Darling: "Exactly."

- Don't let this fool you, tho. He's def the dominant one in the relationship.

Athlete: "You're my baby :D."

Darling: "Mhmm. Don't say that infront of anyone else."

Athlete: "Why not?"

Darling: "I'll bite your head off, that's why."

(spoiler, he says it in front of everyone and darling does nothing but get shy.)

Darling: "Why would you say that?"

Athlete: "Becuz you're my baby?"

Darling: *cuddles closer to him.* *Whispering* "I'm his baby."

- 💗 anon (if I may) (also, he's my baby now, thank you. I'm keeping him in my head and heart.) (It's so late at night. I just keep thinking about this 😭 and I can't put my thoughts into proper words rn, bear with me on this)

𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐈

𝗟𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗦𝗶𝗰𝗸!𝗔𝘁𝗵𝗹𝗲𝘁𝗲 𝘅 𝗮𝗳𝗮𝗯!𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿

Trigger Warnings; yandere behaviors, possessive behavior, talk about trauma bonding (both reader and yandere or mentally ill), yandere masking, bad writing, and me rambling (I'm so sorry 💗Nonny lol) If I missed anything, then please let me know ♡ I offically declare you 💗Nonny!! And I don't mind you coming up with your own interpertations of reader and LoveSick!Athlete! Just share 'em! Also, I may or may not have gone on a tiny, just tiny, tangent, so sorry 💗Nonny... Feel free to submit more asks if 'ya want

LoveSick!Athlete can really mold and mend well with most personalities and darlings, this is due to his manipulative personality. A little off-topic, but he really has a hard time understanding who he is because he's always pretending to be what others deem "acceptable". This causes him to have a multitude of identity crises, but when his darling, you, comes into the picture, it makes it easier for him to find himself. He feels like he's the real him whenever he's with you. You just feel so natural, he feels natural, too. It's just right.

And for that reason, I think LoveSick!Athlete would go really well with a childhood!reader, seeing as she's been with him since they were young. And, I'm not too sure if you've read my Yan!Alphabet for him, but I mention LoveSick!Athlete's childhood; let's just say it wasn't the best situation for a kid.

LoveSick!Athlete would feel a special bond with his darling now, seeing as they've been together threw thick and thin. He's trama bounded to you, and you to him. We'll run off the assumption that reader has also had a bad childhood, whether it be an absent parent, abusive sibling/family member/or parent, whatever it is allows you to feel a connection to LoveSick!Athlete, seeing as you have a mutual situation. You both have something to bond over, something that locks you together.

He has a bad home environment, you have a bad home environment. He doesn't feel at home, so you become his home, and he to you.

And I like to run on the assumption that reader is all talk, no bite. And if you've read any of my writing where the reader talks, you'll see that I prefer to write reader as more "real" (to me anyway) because I'm personally not the hugest fan of the "helpless" reader. I like to write a darling who has a mouth, someone who's bratty (but that's 'cause I'm a brat lol).

Anyway, I'm getting off-topic, back to LoveSick!Athlete.

To your idea about a snarky reader, I totally agree. Honestly, LoveSick!Athlete would eat that shit up, no joke. He would love it, as he enjoys the back-and-forth between you two. He loves to press your buttons, wanting to see what sarcastic reply you have ready for him.

The thing is, he knows your just talking shit, never willing to actually do anything. You just run your mouth, and he lets you, but whenever you step outta line, sometimes, he's gotta put you back. Though, you'll never think of it like that. No, no, he's too sweet for that. He's gotta keep that golden retriever vibe going, y'know?

He just swat you on the ass, telling you that you got such a dirty mouth, mamas? I thought you were my little princess, no? Girls with a face like yours shouldn't be speakin' that like-

He'll just move on, as if he didn't just grope your butt, nope, not at all. And you'll be standing there awestruck, face red, and biting your tongue as you try to not overheat in embarrassment!!

It never ceases to entertain him, watching your face widen with surprise whenever he refers to you as his girl, his cute little girlfriend. The way your face heats up when he wraps his strong arm around your waist, putting his cap on your head (a silent sign of possession over you, trying to get the guy in the back to keep his eyes to himself, but you don't need to know that ;)).

In your little monologue, you go over some cheerleader girl (named Cindy??). Though I would agree that chicks (and some dudes) practically flock around LoveSick!Athlete, I would say that he doesn't even pay them any mind, not even entertaining the thought. Don't get me wrong, he'll talk to them, but make it painstakingly clear that he's only got one girl on his mind, you.

Most of the time, the girl will just find it endearing, slapping his shoulder, and telling him that he'd make a great husband or some shit like that. Of course, the chicks joking, making some nice comments to leave the, now awkward, conversation, but LoveSick!Athlete will take it to heart. Now, he's imagining a pretty ring on your finger, something he paid for, he got you. Because he'd be such a good provider for you, don't you know?

Another thought, 'cause I'm on a role, but I'm not sure if I've directly said this or not, but LoveSick!Athlete is a hockey player. I've tried putting strickly hockey photos on all my posts (you should see my Pinterest feed, it's filled with hot guys lolol).

Hockey is an aggressive sport, I would know. I used to ice skate every day for an hour or two. And, trust me, I got to see a lot of hot guys, though I was always too nervous to say anything, that's beside the point.

I can imagine that reader would be the same, intimidated by these testastrone-filled, young men who just wanna get all sweaty and gross. And I prefer to think that reader also doesn't know how to skate, much to LoveSick!Athlete's enjoyment.

Just to torture you, he'll take you to his ice rink, partly wanting to show you off, and also wanting you to rely on him to move around. He won't even let you hold onto the side, nope, all you got is him, babes.

And anyone who's been to a rink before knows that if you're not on the wall, or smack in the middle of the rink, you're in traffic, especially if it's busy. And this means that you gotta go fast, keeping pace with everyone else. And there's always a handful of assholes (usually hockey players) who will purposefully do a hockey stop, flinging a shit tone of ice at newbies.

I imagine that this shit would happen all the time and LoveSick!Athete is enjoying it sm. He gets a rush every time you flinch, clinging onto him tighter, especially when the really fast skaters zoom by you, scaring the crap outta you.

And he won't let you go at your own pace, forcing you to follow his lead. This means you're going far too fast for comfort, leaning on him for support. You're arms wrapped around his bicep, which isn't recommended btw. Your cheek pressed against his arm, holding on for dear life.

You'll snap at him, telling him to shut up and stop enjoying this, you dork. I'm only clinging to 'cause I gotta!

And he'll just take it, giving you a lopsided smirk.

#𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙨𝙞𝙘𝙠!𝙖𝙩𝙝𝙡𝙚𝙩𝙚 #𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙚𝙡'𝙨 𝙮𝙖𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙧𝙚'𝙨 #💗!𝙉𝙤𝙣𝙣𝙮 #lovesick #anon #ask away #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere oc x you #yandere oc #yandere male #yandere imagines #obsessive love #x reader #oc x reader

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harmonicakai · 8 days

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Be Around Me

Part 1 of the "Love is Embarrassing" series

Pairing: Gyuvin x Reader, Ricky x Reader (one-sided), Haobin crumbs, Jiwoong x Reader teeny tiny crumbs

Summary: Gyuvin is the type of guy to get flustered over everything, but little does he know that you secretly think it makes him even cuter.

Tropes: basketball star!gyuvin, journalist!reader, college AU, basketball!zb1, frat!zb1, secret admirer, fluff, slow burn, crack, unrequited love, mutual pining, gyuvin is a LOSER

Word Count: 4.4k

Warnings: Ricky is annoying lol, mentions of masturbation and sex (mdni!!!)

A/N: y’all will have pry zb1 college basketball au from my cold dead hands!!!!!!!! also for once in my life, y/n is not super insecure we cheered!!

FIC INSPIRED SPOTIFY PLAYLIST <3

“It's obvious she's so out of reach And I'm finding it hard 'cause She makes me feel, makes me feel Like I try, like I try, like I'm trying too hard” —Try Hard, 5 Seconds of Summer

On the court, Kim Gyuvin is the star player of the Wakefield Roses. With his long limbs, he handles the ball with ease, capturing the hearts of everybody in the crowd every time he grins after scoring a basket.

Off the court, he’s an awkward mess. Combine that with the fact that you, the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen, are usually the one covering games for the school news, and he’s a goner.

As if it isn’t hard enough for him to make eye contact with the camera, he also has to make sure he doesn’t stare too hard at your shiny hair or glossy lips. His teammates would never let him live it down if he was caught being an absolute creep on video.

What started out as a little crush has grown into a deep admiration. He reads every article that you put out into the school newspaper, sometimes even cutting out the ones you’ve written about him and his team. Everybody makes fun of him for being too scared to just ask you out.

He’s never been one to flirt with girls, but the way you make conversations so easy during interviews, even when he’s stumbling over his words, makes him feel at ease around you. Still, he wonders how much of it is just your journalist persona versus you actually liking him.

Sharing a double with Ricky means he gets exiled a lot in the name of his roommate getting laid. Sometimes, you come back from getting your morning coffee and catch him sleeping on one of the lounge’s couches.

One morning, when your arms are full of pastries that you intend to hoard in your dorm for the upcoming week, you spot him curled up yet again on your way back to your room.

Without much thought, you stop to leave a muffin and a little note next to it on the table in front of him, conveniently forgetting to sign your name.

It began with cutesy but vague things, like “breakfast for a champion,” but quickly escalated as soon as Gyuvin started leaving notes back for you.

After a couple exchanges, he even wrote that you didn’t need to be leaving him food at all and that he just wanted to know who you were. Truthfully, you had a really big crush on Gyuvin, but didn’t everybody?

Despite being a bit camera shy, he was always so sweet before and after your interviews, doing his best to make small talk and smiling his smile that could make anybody swoon.

Plus, you’ve seen how much more comfortable he is with other people, even the cheerleaders, who are all super pretty. He must just be really nice.

So, you continue to leave the notes unsigned, despite each one growing in flirtation. You like the thrill of being mysterious, but you’re mostly just scared of getting rejected since he’s never given you a reason to think he likes you back.

It isn’t until Ricky catches you one morning, a sly grin on his face when he sees you leaving a whole stack of notes on the table.

When you lock eyes with Gyuvin’s roommate, you know the jig is up. Surely, he’ll tell him it’s been you all along.

“Y/N,” Ricky nods when you approach him, his arms crossed. “I have to say, I had my suspicions.”

“Listen, Ricky, I would prefer if we could keep this between us.”

“Gyuvin’s been going on and on about some secret admirer for weeks now. It’s cruel that you won’t tell him who you are.”

“He’s welcome to stop writing back if he doesn’t want to,” you shrug, although it would probably devastate you if that actually happened.

“Oh, trust me, he wants to. Especially if he found out it was you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Just that every time he finishes an interview with you, he might always run home and lock himself in our bathroom because you get him so riled up. If you know what I mean.”

Your eyes go wide at the revelation. Ricky is surely just messing with you. “That’s—that’s not funny, Ricky. You shouldn’t joke about those kinds of things.”

“I’m not joking,” he chuckles. “Listen, Zeta Beta Omega is throwing a party tonight and the whole team will be there. You should come.”

“I don’t do parties,” you scoff. “Why would you even want me there?”

“Because maybe after a few drinks, you and Gyuvin won’t be so scared to tell each other how you feel. Then you guys can knock off this silly game and he can stop whining about not knowing who his mystery girl is.”

“And go back to whining about how all his roommate does is kick him out every night so he can fuck whoever he lays his eyes on?”

“Exactly. See, Y/N, you get me,” he practically purrs. “So, you show up looking all pretty and talk to my poor, lovesick roomie, and I won’t spill your little secret. Deal?”

“Ugh, fine, I guess. I can’t believe you’re blackmailing me. Deal.”

“Trust me, it’s for your own good, sweetheart.”

You cringe at the pet name. “Is this how you talk to everybody?”

“Yes. Why? Is it working? Are you going to start leaving me notes too?”

“Enjoy the rest of your morning, Ricky. I’ll see you later,” you say, walking past him. Even if he’s annoying, it’s genuinely impressive how he managed to brush off every insult you threw his way.

“See you, Y/N.” You don’t even have to look back at him to know that he winked as he said that.

—————-

Gyuvin knows that staying up all night waiting around for his mystery girl would be an invasion of privacy. At least he thinks the person who keeps leaving him baked goods and notes is a girl. Or maybe he’s just being hopeful that it’s you.

He’s never seen your handwriting before, but he’s been close enough to smell your perfume and he swears he can catch hints of it wafting off the sticky notes.

In fact, he’s started looking forward to Ricky kicking him out of their shared bedroom just because he knows he’ll be waking up to the sweetest surprise when he sleeps in the lounge.

Tonight’s party should be a good distraction from all of the wondering. Maybe, if he’s drunk enough, Ricky will be more embarrassing than alluring and Gyuvin will get to sleep in his own bed. Still, he can’t get this morning’s notes off his mind.

You’ve left him clues, little doodles of your favorite things. Your coffee order, favorite color, favorite animal, and so on. He’s hoping you’ll be at tonight’s party so he can see if you mention any of the stuff drawn out, but you never show up to these kinds of things.

That was before Ricky got involved. You stood outside the ZBO frat house wearing your worst sneakers and a baby pink minidress, as suggested by one of your suitemates.

If only you didn’t show up by yourself. There were a few familiar faces from class, and of course, the entire basketball team, but nobody you were really friends with. All you could focus on was how sticky the floor was and how much you needed a drink.

“Hi,” you say, finally making your way over to the bartender. It’s the team’s captain, Hanbin. “Just give me whatever tastes the best.”

“One rum punch it is,” he smiles, his whisker dimples making your heart flutter. Why was everybody on the team good looking? “Y/N, right?”

“Yep,” you say, taking the plastic cup from him. “You’re Hanbin. You know, I’ve been meaning to interview you, but you always seem so busy with other things at games.”

“Don’t worry about it. It wouldn’t be nearly as cute as when you interview Gyuvin,” he laughs, eyeing the line of guests waiting for their drinks. “I’ve got a job to do, but I’ll see you around, okay?”

“Thanks for the drink,” you say, holding it up in a sort of cheer before walking away. You take a sip and savor its sweetness, the liquor’s flavor blending in perfectly to the juice. Hanbin’s words stick with you. Were you and Gyuvin cute together?

Sure, he’s so tall that he practically towers over you, but he refuses to ever make eye contact and always keeps his replies so short and polite. Then again, he sure seems to write a lot in the notes that he doesn’t know are going to you.

For a second, you start to consider that you might actually have a chance with him, until you spot him with a beautiful girl touching his arm and whispering something in his ear. Before you can mope for too long, someone is tapping you on the shoulder.

“There you are,” a familiar voice calls over the music. You turn to see Ricky grinning at you, his hair looking almost white under the lights. “You look good.”

“Thanks, I guess,” you huff, crossing your arms over your chest to prevent him from checking you out any further. He glances past you at his roommate.

“Don’t worry about her,” he assures you. You don’t know whether or not to believe him. “Gyuvin has never taken a girl home from these parties, let alone kissed one.”

That’s a relief. “Don’t you have a hook-up to hunt down?” you ask Ricky. He cocks an eyebrow at you, sipping his drink.

“Oh, Y/N. I keep my girls on speed dial,” he chuckles. You cringe at his playboy persona and for once in his life, Ricky is embarrassed. He shuts his mouth, hoping you can’t see him blush.

“Wow,” you say, tilting your head at him. “Don’t tell me young and rich, tall and handsome Shen Ricky can actually feel shame. I really wish I had a cameraman with me right now.”

“Like I said, it works on most people,” he attempts to reason. “You’re just immune to my charms, I guess.”

“Guess so,” you smirk, downing the rest of your drink. You glance behind your shoulder to see Gyuvin still talking to that girl, then back at Ricky, who’s deep in thought.

“Do you want to meet the rest of the team?” he asks, surprising you. You give a slight nod, and that’s all he needs to see before grabbing your wrist and pulling you through the crowd.

At first, Ricky lingers as you make small talk with Matthew, Taerae, and Gunwook, and explains to you that Yujin is actually at home because he’s still in high school. You feel like a horrible journalist—have you been so preoccupied with Gyuvin that you didn’t notice there was a literal child on the team?

By now, Ricky’s abandoned you to go find something, or someone, more entertaining. He’s dropped you off with Jiwoong, the oldest player, who is as aloof as he is annoyingly handsome. The way he eyes you makes your stomach do cartwheels, and you’ve had enough to drink that you can’t see the harm in flirting with a cute boy.

He’s spewing some bullshit about meditating when you cut him off. “I like your hair,” you blurt out, catching him off guard. He turns and smiles at you for the first time since you started talking.

“You do?” he asks, running a hand through it. “I think it’s a little long. I might get a haircut soon.”

“Keep it like that,” you say, not taking your eyes off of him. “It looks good.”

Jiwoong is grinning now, but he remembers that you’re Gyuvin’s crush, and it would be totally wrong to kiss you no matter how badly he wants to. He eyes the crowd, searching for someone to save him from the tension.

“Hao!” he says, grabbing a boy passing by and pulling him into the conversation. He looks familiar, but he’s certainly no basketball player. “Y/N, this is Zhang Hao. He’s our equipment manager. I’m gonna run to the bathroom.”

“Hi, Y/N,” Hao says, clearly caught off guard. “You’re the one who does the interviews, right?”

“That’s me,” you confirm. Jiwoong’s departure right when you thought he was going to kiss you was beyond bizarre. “I didn’t realize how many people knew me.”

“You’re basically a celebrity to the team,” Hao laughs. “They all think you’re pretty.”

“Makes sense,” you smile, sipping on your third drink of the night. “I am, in fact, very pretty.”

“Agreed. So, which one do you have your eye on?” he asks, leaning in to hear you better. “Or should I guess?”

“Go ahead and guess,” you say, eager to know what he thinks.

Hao takes a second to gather his thoughts. “Well, it’s clear that you’re into Gyuvin based on the way you giggle at his seriously unfunny jokes, but you were also just eye fucking Jiwoong. Then again, wasn’t Ricky dragging you around earlier by the hand?”

“By the wrist,” you correct him. “And yes, I do like Gyuvin. But he’s been talking to some other girl the whole night.”

“He only has eyes for you,” Hao says immediately. This is the second time you’ve heard this tonight, but the first where it’s coming from a trustworthy source.

“And you?” you ask in return, shifting the conversation onto him. “Which one do you have a crush on?”

Hao’s eyes widen. “I–I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m not—I don’t—”

“Hao,” you cut him off. “You’ve glanced at Hanbin at least six times since this conversation started.”

He swallows, knowing he’s been caught. “It’s that obvious, isn’t it?”

“Yes. Why don’t you go talk to him?”

“We talk all the time,” Hao mutters, looking down at his shoes. “I’m basically his personal assistant.”

“Do you talk about anything other than basketball?”

“No.”

“Do you even like basketball?”

“...No.”

“Hao,” you say, gripping him by the shoulders and turning him towards the drink station. “Go over there and get your man.”

—————-

As if it weren’t enough of a shock to Gyuvin that you actually showed up to a ZBO party, he’s had to spend all night watching you chat up the entire team except for him.

They’ve no doubt let it slip to you that he has the biggest crush on you on campus, maybe even the entire world. But he’s way too nice to tell one of his classmates, who attends every game just to hold up a sign with his name on it, that he isn’t interested.

That’s how he ended up nursing his drink with a tight lipped smile, listening to what’s-her-name ramble on about things that would be more interesting to probably anybody else, all while keeping an eye on you as you bounce around the party.

Your interaction with Jiwoong made him jealous beyond belief, and he makes a mental note that while he’s made his crush on you very clear to his teammates, you’re technically not his and free to flirt with whoever you want.

He watches as you grasp Hao and shake him, muttering some words of encouragement before sending him over to the bar. Finally, you’re alone again. It’s now or never.

“I have to go walk my dog,” Gyuvin lies, not even bothering to let the poor girl react before making his way over to you. You’re wearing pink, his secret admirer’s favorite color. Surely, it’s not just a coincidence.

“Y/N,” he says a little too loud, startling you. You jump, accidentally knocking yourself into him. Both of your drinks go flying and suddenly, you’re covered in sticky red liquid.

At this point, Gyuvin might as well just die alone. How did he manage to only spill his drink on you and not himself? He peers down at you, guilt written all over his face, as you take in what’s just happened.

“Here,” he says, reaching into his hoodie’s pocket and pulling out wadded tissues. “They’re clean, I promise. I have, uh, I’ve got allergies, so I carry around a ton.”

He unfolds one and gently pats the liquid off of you without so much of a second thought. Your silence makes him panic even more, and he’s so focused on drying you off that he doesn’t even notice he’s basically rubbing the tissue on your cleavage.

Gyuvin freezes once he finally notices where his hand is, immediately pulling away and putting a good distance between the two of you. “I am so sorry. Holy shit, I don’t know what I was thinking. I’m not a pervert! Please don’t think I’m a pervert.”

“Gyuvin,” you finally say, your voice just as sweet as always. He’s pacing as much as he can with everybody packed in so tightly, his long legs taking tiny steps. “It’s okay. I don’t think you’re a pervert.”

He stops and looks down at you. “Really? You’re not just saying that?”

“Really,” you reassure him. “Although I might think you’re a klutz. Who knew Wakefield’s star basketball player was so clumsy off the court?”

“Technically, you bumped into me,” he asserts, his smile returning. “But you’re also the one who got soaked, so let’s just call things even.”

“Deal,” you agree. Sure, it’s fun when boys are obviously flirting with you, but the way Gyuvin has no clue what he’s doing is just so charming. It feels natural when you’re with him, a nice departure from the overused pickup lines and generic compliments that are usually thrown your way.

Gyuvin takes in your stained dress, the red punch seeping into the pink fabric like blood. You look straight out of a horror movie.

“Here,” he says, shrugging off his varsity jacket and wrapping it around your shoulders before taking in the sight of you. “Wow. You look so…”

“Silly?” you answer, the expanse of material wrapped around you like a tent.

“Cute. You look so cute.” Gyuvin meets your eyes for a split second before looking away again, his ears now feeling even hotter than when he saw you with Jiwoong. “I can get you a new shirt, if you want. My room isn’t far from here.”

“You want me to go with you to your room?” you giggle, enjoying how flustered you make him. Hearing his teammates talk about how much he likes you has taken a weight off your shoulders, and you don’t know how you ever thought he wasn’t into you before.

“No! Well, yes, but only if you want to. And I’m not using this as an excuse to bring you back to my room. I just know you like pink and I have this one pink shirt that shrunk in the wash and I think you’d look really good in it. Plus, I can start a load of laundry and get your dress all clean.”

This is the most you’ve ever heard him talk, his voice a few pitches higher than usual when he’s rambling. Plus, if he knows how much you like pink, he must be following your clues. “Let’s go to your room, then.”

—————-

While Gyuvin’s side of the room is much neater than you expected, Ricky’s side looks weirdly perfect. Not a single thing is out of place, with every item labeled or color coordinated. You’re shocked that two basketball players can manage to keep such a small room so tidy.

“Sorry, it’s kind of a mess,” Gyuvin apologizes, moving to make his bed. “You can sit here.”

“If this is what you think is messy, you don’t want to see my room,” you say, taking in all of the decorations. Usually, when you’re in a guy’s room, it’s all navy blue and manly movie posters, but Gyuvin’s walls are so colorful and covered in photos of his family and friends.

One piece of paper catches your eye—the very first article you wrote about the basketball team. You scan his wall, catching more and more newspaper clippings, all penned by you. Gyuvin’s too busy putting things away and rustling through his drawers to notice you staring at them in awe.

“Here we go,” he calls out, turning and holding up a shrunken pink t-shirt and a pair of sweats. His grin fades as soon as he catches you reading one of your own articles, which have been on his wall for so long that he’s forgotten they’re even there. “Oh. Uh, please don’t think I’m a creep.”

“It’s not creepy. It’s sweet. They’re all about you, anyway,” you say, turning to take the shirt from him. It has a picture of a silly looking greyhound on the front of it.

“Right,” Gyuvin says, shrugging off the interaction. He pulls himself onto the bed next to you, sitting cross legged and making sure to leave a gap between you and him. “That’s my dog, Eumppappa.”

“Eumppappa is an amazing name,” you muse, turning to smile at him. Your faces end up being so close that Gyuvin thinks his heart has stopped beating. In his attempt to scoot back, he ends up tumbling off of his bed.

“Fuck,” he says as he lands on the ground. You peer down from the lofted bed at his long limbs sprawled across the rug. If you didn’t think he was a complete loser before, you probably do now.

“Are you okay?” you call out, watching as he sits up and rubs his head.

“I’m good,” Gyuvin assures you, taking a breather before getting to his feet and heading towards the door. “I’m going to step out and let you change. Let me know when you’re decent.”

“Will do,” you smile, giving him a thumbs up. You strip your clothes off, throwing on the t-shirt and sweats and pulling the drawstring until you know they won’t fall off of you. “You can come back in, Gyuvin!”

He stumbles in, practically waiting with his body pressed against the door for the moment he could see you again. God, could you really not tell how much he liked you before tonight?

Gyuvin eyes you drowning in his clothes and he knows that he’d move earth and heaven if it meant that you’re who he got to wake up to for the rest of his life.

“I’ll go throw this in the washer and then we can head back to the party,” he stammers, snapping out of his daydream and grabbing your dress. Your smile is so pretty right now, even after all of his awkwardness, that it takes everything in him not to get hard just looking at you.

By the time he gets back from the laundry room, you’ve decided you don’t want to go back to the party, especially not dressed like this.

“Oh,” Gyuvin says, disappointed that his time with you has been cut short by his clumsiness. “Do you want me to walk you back to your place?”

“I live down the hall,” you remind him. You hope he doesn’t realize you could’ve just as easily grabbed your own change of clothes.

“Right,” he grimaces. He knows that. He’s always trying to time leaving his room perfectly so that he runs into you on the way to class.

Just like whenever you interview Gyuvin, there’s an awkward silence, except this time it can’t be edited out. He’s back to looking everywhere in the room except at you.

“It’s not even midnight,” you say, glancing at your phone’s lockscreen. “Do you want to watch a movie?”

“Like, together?” Gyuvin asks in disbelief. You nod, an amused smirk on your face. “Duh, of course you meant together. Yeah, sure, let’s watch a movie.”

Moments later, you’re sitting in the dark with Gyuvin, your legs pulled close to your chest as you watch Amélie projected onto the wall above Ricky’s bed.

Every once in a while, Gyuvin lets himself relax, his arm or his leg brushing against you by accident. After spending half of the film pulling away out of fear that he’s bothering you, he finally settles for having his fingers barely touching yours.

“You know,” he starts, his eyes still locked on the movie. “I kind of have my own mystery going on right now.”

“Really?” you say, feigning shock. “About what?”

“Someone keeps leaving me notes when I sleep in the lounge. Sometimes treats, but mostly notes. They don’t sign their name, but today they left me some little doodles as clues and I’ve been trying to figure them out.”

The way you’re reacting makes his stomach turn. How could it be you when you have a look on your face that says you have no clue what he’s talking about?

“Well, I’ve been meaning to work on my investigative journalism. What if I helped you track your secret admirer down?”

If you aren’t going to fall for him, he’ll at least settle for being friends. “That’d be awesome, Y/N.”

Suddenly, Ricky comes crashing into the dorm room, his lips attached to some girl’s face. He pulls away from her for a second, barely registering that you’re even there, before pulling out his wallet and throwing a couple hundred dollar bills at Gyuvin. “Get out. Now.”

Before you can protest, Ricky’s already unbuttoning his shirt, and you’ll gladly evacuate if it means you don’t have to watch whatever freaky shit is about to go down.

“I didn’t know he pays you to sleep in the lounge,” you laugh, your arms full of Gyuvin’s comforter as you walk down the hall. “With that kind of money, he could just buy an apartment.”

“He could,” Gyuvin starts, holding his pillow in one hand and the stack of notes—your notes—in the other. “But then he wouldn’t get the true college experience. Plus, he only throws money at me when it’s a last minute thing.”

“How much was that, anyway? Like $300?” you ask. He stops and takes out his wallet.

“$400. Pretty standard,” he shrugs, counting the bills. Your eyes widen at the total.

“Are you going to share?” you pout. “I got kicked out too.”

“You can have it,” he says, handing you the money, his brain short circuiting at the way you bat your eyelashes at him. You marvel at the crisp bills. “This is just another Friday night for me.”

“Okay, young and rich, tall and handsome Kim Gyuvin. Thanks for buying my dinner for the rest of the semester!” You don’t know this, but if you asked him to, Gyuvin would buy you whatever you wanted.

Before you can get down to helping him figure out the doodles, or throwing him off your trail, the two of you are fast asleep. Instead of the lounge’s couch, Gyuvin curls up on the oversized bean bag on your bedroom floor. It’s much too small for his frame to actually be comfortable, but he somehow feels more content just being around you.

—————-

Taglist: @orangesodafoam @theresawtf @nerezza123 @gyvnexe @xiurmy-everything @wollycobbl3-blr @cloudgyubi @yunnie-11 @wheatrice

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daddynattt · 1 year

Note

GIRL HERE ME OUT CAN YOU PLEASE CREATE ADARABBLE * NAT X Y/N WITH KIDS* OUT OF THIS PLEASE 😭😭😭I NEED SOME FLUFF RN COZ I JUST FINISHED MY EXAM

Lol I saw this tiktok last night, so cute. Good job on finishing your exams I’m sure you did great and I’m proud of you<3 I love soft mama Nat hope you enjoy this little fluffy piece.

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Warnings: None just fluff and Nat being a softie for her family.

You and Natasha were sitting on the couch watching a movie, your son in your arms as you feed him his milk, you look to your side and watch as Natasha is staring at the two of you with so much love in her eyes making your heart skip a beat. Starting a family with the ex-assassin has been the best decision you’ve ever made, as she is the greatest mother to your two children. She gives the three of you everything you could ever want and need, and has never missed any milestone.

“Are your eyes stuck Natty?” you give her a teasing smile, laughing when she huffs and rolls her eyes, planting a kiss on both your heads making you smile.

“Can I not admire my perfect partner and our son?” you blush at her words, she never fails to make you feel like the most important person in the world, and you are forever grateful for her. You finish feeding your little boy, and you look to your side once again to see Natasha making grabby hands. You giggle and allow her to take him in her arms, and she instantly holds him up to her chest, rubbing and patting his back softly to get him to burp. You get up off the couch to clean up a bit, chuckling when she whines out.

“Baby where you going?” you turn around and plant a sweet kiss on her lips, and her smile instantly warms your heart.

“More please” her pout makes you giggle, this woman is such a softie that you would never have guessed she is the Black Widow. You plant a few more soft kisses on her awaiting lips, and a few on your sons head as well.

“Me and our little munchkin are happy now, proceed to what you were doing, but don’t take too long please we already miss you” you smile at her words, letting out a yelp as she spanks your butt softly when you turn around, glaring at her when she gives you an innocent look.

“What? You know I can’t help myself” you shake your head, proceeding to clean up a little around you. You admire Nat as she holds him in his arms, her soft nature for you and the children is something you will never get tired of. You make your way back to the couch, sitting beside her and planting a kiss on her lips once again.

You watch the two of them, smiling as Nat kisses and noms on his chubby cheek and tickling his sides softly, his giggles making the two of you smile. You hear footsteps coming closer and you see your daughter make her appearance with a book in her hand, but once she sees the position the two are in, she instantly gasps, her mouth open wide as she clutches at her chest, completely shocked at the scene in front of her, seemingly feeling betrayed that Nat would do that to anyone other then her, causing you to laugh out loud. Shock is written all over her face as she stares at them, then climbs into your lap, and puts her hand out at Natasha, a frown on her face.

“Mama no!” the two of you laugh, and Natasha pulls her into her lap as she cuddles and holds them both in her arms, making your heart burst with love at the scene.

“Aww my little princess, mama loves you just as much, I love you both so so much. Want me to read you the book?” she nods and cuddles into Nat more, getting comfortable against her chest as Nat wraps her arm around her, holding the two of them protectively in her arms. She kisses her brother on his forehead, making the two of you smile. She may get jealous, but she loves her brother. Natasha turns towards you, motioning for you to come closer, and you cuddle into her side, the four of you huddled together.

“I love you and our family so much” her confession makes your heart skip a beat, and you kiss her softly, smiling against her lips.

“I love you and our family so much more” she kisses your nose, then both their foreheads, and proceeds to read the book, her voice smooth and comforting, calming the three of you down. You wouldn’t change your family for anything. This is where you are meant to be.

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff fluff #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff #soft natasha romanoff

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hoejosatoru · 1 year

Text

How You Get the Girl

“Broke your heart, I’ll put it back together”

Pairing: Fem!Reader x Bonten!Rindou

Summary: Y/n and Rindou have been long time friends, both harboring their true feelings for each other. When y/n kisses Ran at a party, it causes unexpected consequences

Word Count: 5.3k

Warnings: Drinkin mentioned, angst, Rindou punches Ran in the face lol, oral (fem receiving), fingering, cream pie, not proof read bc I'm silly, MDNI

Knock knock knock!

“Well would you look who it is! The man who can’t tell time, apparently,” you not-so-kindly greeted Rindou. The two of you planned to have a movie night and catch up, but he was over an hour late.

“Sorry,” your best friend replied, not waiting for you to invite him in. “Got stuck at work.” He was already shrugging off his suit jacket, a soft blue that went well with his lilac mullet. You nosily looked at the label.

“Since when can you afford YSL?” you questioned. Rindou, much as like his brother Ran, had always been into fashion, but brand names were not something they grew up having access to. Nor did you, and as you looked over at him you reckoned his outfit probably cost more than your rent this month.

“Since I started working at Bonten,” Rindou replied. He followed you to the living room, where you already had popcorn, m&ms (his favorite), and drinks out. He felt his heart squeeze at the thought of you setting up for him, just for him to be late. “Fuck I’m an asshole for making you wait.”

“You are, but I forgive you,” you replied, settling on the couch. You tossed some popcorn in your mouth. “So what is this Bonten place? And what are you doing that they’re paying you so good?”

Rindou sat next to you, his thigh muscles straining his suit pants. You quickly pulled your eyes away. Those sort of views brought thoughts you were not trying to entertain right now. “We do... stuff.” He put a handful of m&ms in his mouth.

Your brow pique. “Stuff? What kinda stuff pays YSL money?”

“Stuff that is none of your business,” Rindou replied teasingly. He knew not knowing details got you annoyed. You and Rindou had known each other for years and knew exactly what buttons to push on the other. As luck would have it, button pushing was both of your friendship love language. The more you teased someone, the more you like them. Besides, you were admittedly nosey.

“Ugh whatever dude,” you rolled your eyes, “Whatever it is, it sounds seems shady as hell.”

“Did you invite me over to grill me about my job or watch a movie?” Rindou countered. He leaned back on your couch, unbuttoning the top two claps of his shirt. He rolled up up his sleeves revealing the tattoos on one side. His forearms, you noted, looked very toned. Rindou had always been into working out, but it looks like he put on some muscle recently. Another thing you definitely should not be allowing yourself to stare at.

“I can multitask ya know?” You huffed, clicking on the tv. You put on one of yours an Rindou’s favorite movie, just like always. It allowed the two of you talk without having to worry about really paying attention to what was on the screen.

Rindou cozied up to you, leaning into your body and resting his head on your shoulder. This was not the first time he did this, but it surprised you nonetheless. Yours and Rindous friendship always had… weird moments. Moments were the line of friends or more felt blurred.

Nothing has ever happened between the two of you beyond a hug. Yet there were moments like this where one of you lingered on the other. Where the air between you felt charged. Where your heart fluttered in your chest.

Maybe you were delusional. Or more likely, it was one sided, fueled by those feelings you refused to admit existed. Rindou was not a very serious guy, at least not with you. He probably thought nothing of resting his head on you, you were longtime friends after all. It was totally normal for friends to do, but the little twisting in your stomach made it feel like more.

After the movie ended, you went to move a little and felt Rindou’s dead weight on you. He had a fallen asleep. No wonder it was so quiet.

“Wake up idiot,” you gently shook his shoulder.

Rindou grumbled, “I’m up, I’m up.”

“Yeah now you are because I woke you up,” you replied. “Remind me not to let you have wine any more. Shit puts you to sleep.”

“You’re not wrong,” Rindou’s voice was gravely from sleep. His arms went above his head, stretching his body. His shirt lifted, revealing his lower stomach, the ink disappearing below it… Jesus you were really being tested today. “Can I stay over? Don’t feel like going home now.”

“Of course.”

“Are you gonna make me sleep on the couch again? I barely fit on this thing,” he complained.

“You invite yourself to stay over and now you’re trying to steal my bed from me?” You asked, with performed annoyance.

“Well you are shorter than me,” Rindou replied. “Or, ya know, we could just share your bed, dummy.” He flicked your forehead as punctuation.

“I should make you sleep on the couch just for that.” You rubbed the spot he flicked. “But fine, only to shut you up. If you snore, though, I’m kicking your ass out.”

“Deal.”

Your heart was doing that stupid fluttering thing as you walked back to your room with Rindou. He’d been in it before, of course, but never to sleep in it. The thought of sleeping next to Rindou all night got your pulse and mind racing.

“Got anything that would fit me?” Rindou asked.

You looked at him. “Probably not.”

“Mind if I sleep in my boxers then?”

You pretended to look for something in your drawer so he wouldn’t see you blush. “No. I’d think you were psycho if you slept in work pants anyways.”

You heard Rindou chuckle behind your turned back. As well as the telltale sign of clothes hitting the floor. You slipped into the attached bathroom so you wouldn’t have to look just yet. You were sure your face was red. You changed into your pjs- thank god your cute ones were washed- brushed your teeth then returned.

When you returned, you found Rindou sitting on your bed. “Really? Versace underwear?” Making fun of him was your best defense mechanism and you really needed it in that moment. Seeing Rindou near naked on your bed was enough to make your whole body buzz. Not to mention that he definitely has put on muscle, which only made his tattooed body look better. You tried not to stare.

“Shut up. They’re soft.”

“Yeah, so are the ones you can buy from Target,” you climbed onto the other side of the bed. You made sure not to get too close to him. Your bed was only a full, so there wasn’t that much room to play with. “Remember if you snore I kill you.”

“Kill? I thought I was just got kicked out,” Rindou replied, slipping under your covers. What a strange, confusing sight.

“Yeah, well I changed my mind,” you replied. You turned away from him, unable to look at him like this any longer. “Goodnight, Rin.”

“Goodnight, y/n.”

As silence settled between the two of you, you were met with a heaviness in your chest. You could feel his warmth, even on this side of the bed. You wanted so desperately to move closer, to feel it directly on your skin. The space between you literally felt like a magnetic force, one you knew you had to fight.

You couldn’t deny it, those feelings you had. The stupid fucking crush you had on your best friend. It made you feel so stupid. And this situation wasn’t helping. The way Rindou had been so casual about sleeping next to you, boxers and all, told you he didn’t see anything romantic about your relationship. It was no different than sleeping with one of his guy friends. You already knew that, of course, knew that you were just friends. And you loved being friends, you really did, but it didn’t change the fact that every reminder of how he felt about you didn’t sting.

You pushed those thought away before they brought tears. It wasn’t easy, but ignoring them has become second nature to you at this point. You squeezed your eyes shut and waited for sleep to take you.

***

There was a moment of surprise when you woke up to the feeling of warmth pressed against you. For a half second you forgot you let Rindou stay over and you were glad it came back to you before you punched his sleeping body out of fear. Your back was still to him, but you’d both moved closer to each other in the night. He was on his stomach, squished against you.

Your face heated at the feeling of him against you. It felt so nice, you wanted to lay in it longer, but you didn’t want to push it. You tried to roll away quietly but Rindou stirred the second you moved.

“Morning beautiful,” Rindou chirped, his voice raspy from sleep. Your heart clenched at his words, but you knew he was teasing you. Your hair was always a mess in the morning.

“Oh, shut up,” you grumbled.

“Someone isn’t a morning person,” Rindou noted, stretching lazily. The sheets dipped lower, revealing his toned stomach.

“I’m usually in a better mood when someone doesn't hog my bed all night,” you replied. Rindou’s lips spread into a teasing grin. “I’m guess you want breakfast?”

“Please.”

“Only cause you said please.”

About 20 minutes later you and Rindou sat at your little kitchen table, eating French toast. Thankfully Rindou pulled his pants back on. There was only so much you could take.

“How come you don’t wear your glasses anymore?” you asked. You’d always loved Rindou in glasses; you thought he looked really cute in them. In the past few months, though, it was rare to see him in them.

“Contacts. Ever heard of ‘em?” he replied, mouth full.

You rolled your eyes. “Yes, idiot, but contacts existed when were in college and you never used them then.”

“Trying a different look I guess,” Rindou said, “Ran said I’d pick up more chicks without glasses. They made me look like a dork.”

You ignored the pang in your chest at the thought of him with other girls. “You are a dork.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“Just being hones,” you replied. Then, more quietly you added, “But I think you look good in glasses.” You kept your eyes on your plate, not wanting him to catch just how much you meant that. A silence passed before Rindou spoke again.

“You going to Sanzu’s party next week?”

“Yeah, are you?”

“Of course,” Rindou said, “I wouldn't let you go to Sanzu’s place alone. He's weird.”

“He’s your friend.”

“Yeah, but I have weird friends.” You laughed, unable to deny that. The people Rindou had been hanging out with recently were a bit... different. It all circled back to that damn Bonten company he was working for. You made a mental note to ask Sanzu about it after he had a few drinks. Everyone knew liquor loosened his lips.

Rindou helped you clean up the dishes, before getting ready to leave. “Leaving here in the clothes I came in? What will your neighbors think?” he asked with a teasing, boyish grin.

“Considering that there was no moaning or headboards banging on the wall, probably that you were a terrible lay,” you retorted.

“That’s bad for my reputation,” Rindou replied, “Gonna need you to at least pretend to moan my name before bed next time.”

You snorted. “You’re so gross.”

Rindou laughed. “I’ll pick up at 8 next week.”

***

“How do I look?” you asked Rindou when he arrived on Saturday. Blessedly, on time.

Rindou looked you up and down, making you more nervous than you cared to admit. “Honest answer or polite answer?”

Your brows knitted. What the fuck did that mean? You suddenly felt self conscious, but couldn’t help yourself. “Honest.”

“Hot.”

Oh? You were expecting something bad.

“Then what was the polite answer?”

“I was just gonna say you looked nice,” Ridnou answered, “didn’t wanna make it weird.”

“Since when have you ever worried about that?”

Rindou chuckled. “Touché. And also you're welcome.”

“Thank you,” you emphasized your delivery.

The Uber Rindou ordered arrived and you were on your way. The ride wasn’t too long and you and Rindou chatted along the way. The party was already fairly full when you arrived, but Sanzu zeroed in on both of you when you arrived. He was already pretty buzzed.

“Drinks are in the kitchen,” Sanzu nodded the area. “If you don't mind, I need to borrow Rindou for a few minutes.” You nodded, slipping away to let them talk. Of course your nosy ass would be asking about the later.

“Hey y/n. Long time no see,” a familiar voice said from behind you. You spun around finding Rindou’s brother, Ran, smiling down at you.

“Hey Ran, what’s up?” You have only hung out with Ran a few times, though it was mostly in large groups. When you met Rindou in college, Ran was attending school elsewhere, so you didn’t know him nearly as well as Rindou. They seemed to get along fairly well, besides the normal brotherly quarrels. He’d always been pleasant to you, though.

As you chatted with Ran, you didn’t notice Rindou staring. His blood ran cold when he saw you were talking - laughing - with Ran. Rindou loved his brother, but he could be a total dick at times, especially when it came to girls. He liked to torment Rindou, even though he denied. If he saw something Rindou had, he wanted it him for himself just so he could exert power over him. It started with toys as kids and had progressed to women.

Rindou was very selective with the girls he brought around Ran. He almost never brought a girl he was talking to around Ran. The second Ran picked up on Rindou having feelings for a girl, he couldn’t help but sweep in and see if he could steal them for himself. Annoyingly, he was pretty successful. The only thing that stopped him was if Rindou was actually dating the girl; Ran wasn’t that much of an asshole.

Still, Rindou was self conscious. He felt he lived in his brother’s shadow in many ways, but especially when it came to women. He knew they almost always wanted him more. It sucked, but nothing came close to how he felt seeing Ran talking to you. All the other times Ran stole someone from him it was annoying, but you? That would be devastating.

Rindou has had feeling for you since college, but he was too scared to tell you. It made him feel like a pussy. He’d promised himself he was goin to tell you soon, but kept chickening out. Especially since he often doubted you felt the same. He purposefully tried to keep you away from Ran and not show interest in you if he was around, but he knew Ran couldn’t resist a girl that looked like you. And oh god the way he was looking at you made his stomach churn. Rindou wanted to go over and interrupt, but he knew that would alert Ran.

“Dude you’re not listening to me at all,” Sanzu complained.

“I don’t wanna talk work at a fucking party, Sanzu,” Rindou replied. Sanzu followed his eye line before he could pull them away.

Sanzu chuckled. “Looks like trouble. Better stop being a pussy and tell her how you feel.”

Rindou narrowed his eyes. He never told Sanzu much about you either, since they all worked together. He couldn’t trust him with that information with Ran around. “I don’t like her.”

Sanzu full on snorted. “Right and I don’t like alcohol.”

“Whatever, man.” Rindou grumbled, stalking away. He decided he had to go over to you. At least scope out the conversation under the guise of getting a drink.

“Hey Rin!” you greeted. He had to hide his smile, but he loved you were so happy to see him even though you were literally just with him.

He poured himself a drink. “How’s it going over here?”

Ran answered, “Good. I can't believe you’ve kept y/n hidden from me. She’s so funny.” Rindou gripped his glass a little tighter. Don’t react, don’t react, he told himself.

“Yeah, she’s alright.” He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, his nervous tick.

“Hey wait! I just realized you’re wearing your glasses agin,” you noted. You don’t know how that got past you before. He’d been waiting for you to comment on it, but in front of Ran was not ideal. “Is that cause I told you you looked good in them last week?” you teased.

Ran’s brow piqued. Shit. It was because of that, but he couldn't say that now. “I ran out of my contacts.”

Before anyone could reply, Sanzu’s voice was filling the room. “Spin the bottle in the living room!”

Ran smiled at you. “Sounds fun.”

Rindou grumbled, “What are we in fucking high school?”

You rolled your eyes at him. “Oh, come on Rin, it will be fun.”

“Yeah Rindou,” Ran said in a way that made Rindou wanna smack him. Despite his complain, Rindou joined the two of you in the circle of players. You watched as people took turns spinning the bottle and kissing who it landed on. Each time it was spun you held your breath, hoping it wouldn’t land on Rindou. Luckily you did not have to watch him kiss anybody yet.

Then it was your turn. You gave the bottle a good spin, your pulse drumming with anticipation. Maybe it was wrong, but you were willing it to stop on Rindou. The bottle moved slower, slower, slower and... Stopped. You looked up into a pair of violet eyes. But they were not Rindou’s.

“My lucky day,” Ran smiled. Well, it wasn’t Rindou, but it could have been a lot worse. You leaned across the circle, Ran meeting you in the middle. He kissed you longer than was required, his hand on your cheek keeping you there. You couldn’t complain; Ran was good kisser. You found yourself a little breathless when you pulled away.

Instinctively, your eyes flicked over to where Rindou was sitting, but he was gone. You caught a flash of him storming out to Sanzu’s backyard. A pit formed in your stomach, feeling something was wrong. You excused yourself to go after him, hearing Sanzu say, “Trouble in paradise.” Followed by a chorus of “oohs.” It really was like you were still in high school sometimes with this lot.

You found Rindou in the backyard, lighting up a cigarette. You didn’t know what to say, so you blurted out, “I thought you quit?”

“What’re you my fucking mother?” Rindou snapped. He’d said that to you tons of time in college when you were on his ass about quitting. It had always been playful, with no bite to it. This one was razor sharp.

“No, I’m your friend who you told you quit,” you replied. You were thrown off by his demeanor.

“I just bummed one off Takeomi, okay? Sometimes I need one when I’m... in a mood.” Smoke flittered around his face as he spoke. He was certainly on edge.

“Okay...” you began carefully, “But why are you in a mood?”

Rindou sighed. “You really don’t know?” Rindou stared at you, searching your face for something, but you didn’t know what.

“No, I don’t.” He looked disappointed with your response.

“I don’t know, maybe it’s fucking weird you made out with my brother in front of me?” he said icily.

“Seriously? That's what you’re mad at? It’s a fucking game Rindou I had no control over it,” you replied. You were annoyed art his reaction, but also anxious about how mad he was with you. Had you just done something that would mess up your friendship? But it was a game.

“It’s still fucking weird,” Rindou said. He dropped the cigarette, grinding it into the patio.

“Well you don’t have to be such a dick about it,” you snapped.

“How am I dick for not wanting to see my friend make out with my friend? It’s gross.”

“Jesus Rindou, I get it. It was a fucking game. Maybe you shouldn’t have joined if you were gonna be such a bitch about it,” you fired back. You were both heated and the rational part of you knew you should end the conversation, but your emotional side wouldn’t let you pull away.

“Maybe you shouldn’t throw yourself at my brother,” Rindou replied. “He’s just gonna wanna fuck you, you know. You’re wasting your time if you think he actually likes you.”

His words stung you. Not that you cared if Ran liked you, but he made it seem you like were inherently unlikeable. Unworthy of being the object of someone’s affection. Maybe that’s how he felt about you. You swallowed your angry tears. “Fuck you, Rindou.” You stormed back towards the house.

“Whatever go back to Ran,” Rindou grumbled behind.

“You know what? Maybe I will.” You slammed the door behind you. Anger clouded your sense. Who was Rindou to say that to you? He doesn’t care about you. Fine. You’ll go to the Haitani brother who did find you attractive.

Ran’s height made him easy to find. His eye’s lit up. “Something wrong?” He asked as you dragged him over to a quiet hallway.

Your anger made you bold. “I wasn’t done kissing you.”

A wide smile spread across Ran’s face. “So finish what you started.” Your lips were on him in a second. You wrapped your hands around his neck as he gripped your waist. He really was a good kisser. His tongue sliding into your mouth and working you up with ease. You leaned into him more, you just wanted to go further, to get lost in him, to forget about your fight with Rindou. Forget what he said.

Suddenly, Ran was torn away from you. Your eyes snapped open finding Rindou fuming at his brother. Before anyone could speak. Rindou punched Ran in the mouth.

“What the fuck?” you demanded.

Rindou ignored you, speaking directly to his brother. “Fuck you, Ran.” Rindou stormed off as quickly as he appeared, leaving you thoroughly flustered.

Ran was rubbing his jaw, laughing. Wait, laughing? Why was he laughing. “I knew it,” Ran said. You stared at him, dumbfounded. “Rindou likes you.”

***

He likes you. Ran’s statement had been playing on repeat in your mind for the last week. After Rindou had punched Ran, you searched for him at the party but he was long gone. You had left then too, not really being in the party mood anymore.

You were so confused by Ran’s statement. How could Rindou like you? Sure, there had been moments, glances, words, that made you think maybe, just maybe, your feelings were reciprocated. But the rational part of your brain always squashed that as wishful thinking. You were friends, nothing more. Right?

Ran seemed confident, though he was the type of guy who was confident in everything he said, truthful or not. To make matters more confusing you hadn’t heard from Rindou at all the entire week, which was strange. You wanted to reach out, but you wouldn’t even know what to say. You were still hurt by his comments, too.

The radio silence from Rindou made it all the more surprising when he showed at your door Saturday night. A storm was rolling through and his dripping hair indicating he got caught in it.

“Jesus, what are you doing out in this?” You questioned, ushering him in. Your concern for him superseded your more complicated emotions.

“I’m sorry, I know I shouldn’t just show up but I had to see you,” his voice was shaking. From the cold rain or nerves you couldn’t tell.

“Is everything okay?”

“I’m sorry y/n,” Rindou began, “I’m sorry for everything. What I said. How I acted. You were right, I was total dick. I didn’t mean any of it.”

His words lessened the sting inside you a little. You appreciated it, but you weren’t going to let him off without sharing how you felt. “Thank you. It honestly hurt a lot to hear you say that. I appreciate you saying all that I just… don’t get why.”

Rindou gave you the same look he gave you in Sanzu’s backyard, though there was something deeper, softer to it. It made you shiver. “I’m sorry, I can’t say it enough. I- it kills me that I hurt you when all I’ve ever wanted was-“ Rindou paused suddenly his face lit with anxiety. You were on edge listening to him, leaning in as if ever cell in your body was urging him to continue.

Rindou swallowed and then continued. “All I ever wanted was to love you. I was so jealous seeing you with Ran. I thought I blew all my chances and now you were gonna fall in love with my brother. It killed me. But I shouldn’t have taken that out on you. I’m so fucking sorry, y/n. I ruined everything.”

Your heart clenched at his declaration. You could barely process what he was saying. He loves you. He’d always loved you. All this time. Knowing that melted away any last bit of anger or hurt you felt. You’re forgave him completely in that moment.

“I forgive you Rin.” You took a deep breath, ready to release the words you held in for so long. “I’ve loved you too, for so long now. I only kissed Ran for that stupid game… well the second time I did because I was mad at you and that was fucked up. I’m sorry.” Rindou shook off your apology. He’d been a dick and felt he deserved it.

You took his hand in yours. “Ran could never make me feel how you do. I’ve only ever wanted you. Nothing is ruined if you don’t want it to be.” His eyes met yours, full of love and relief. You had no idea how much it meant to him to hear you say that.

“You’ll be my girl? For real?”

You wrapped your arms around his neck, “For real. Forever.” A heartbeat later your lips were together. Rindou pulled you close to him, as if he was scared this was a dream and you were going to disappear. The way he kissed you made your head spin. Like Ran, there was want and desire, but there was something deeper, more plush in how his lips moved against yours. How his tongue slid into your mouth. How his hands held your waist with fierce care. If his words didn’t convince of his love, this did.

You both broke apart for a second, giggling and catching your breath. Your foreheads pressed together, not wanting to go too far. “We are idiots,” Rindou said.

“So dumb,” you agreed. “But if being stupid gets me kissed like that, then I’m okay with it.” Rindou grinned brightly before pulling you back in. You both made for your room, rarely ever pulling away from each other. When your calves hit the bed you fell back, taking Rindou with you.

His hands were on either side of your shoulders, smiling down nervously. “Are you sure want to... go further? We don’t have to yet if you don’t wanna,” Rindou said.

You laugh. “Rin, I’ve been wanting to get your clothes off for so long I’m not about to stop us now.” Rindou grinned wickedly.

“Guess I shouldn’t make you wait any longer then.” Rindou yanked his shirt off while you slipped off your own. “Let me.” Rindous pants were already on the floor as he helped you out of yours. He climbed back on top of you, both only in your underwear. He kissed you again, reaching back to clip off your bra. Blood rushed to his dick as he finally, finally, got to squeeze your boobs. “Fuck you have nice tits.”

You blushed but smiled brightly. You ran your fingers through his lilac hair, which was still a little damp from the rain, as his lips wrapped around your nipple. He sucked gently, rolling the other with his fingers. You gasped, arching into the warmth of his mouth, the pleasure of his touch. He repeated the action on the other breast, causing arousal to flood your pussy.

“Rin,” you whimpered. Music to his ears. “Need more.” You hooked your fingers into his boxers, pulling them down. Your cheeks dusted at the size of him. He was so hard and all for you. It thrilled you. Your eyes drifted over to his lip, tracing the lines of his tattoo you’d never seen before. “I’d always wondered if it was fully connected.”

Rin snorted. “What did you think there was an underwear sized blank spot?”

“Maybe.”

Rindou chuckled, slipping his fingers into your underwear. “You know what I’ve always wondered?” He slid them off you. You didn’t miss the breath he drew in, finally seeing your pussy all wet and need for him. “How you taste.”

“Rin!” you gasped as he dove into you. His strong hands kept your thighs apart. He licked long stripes up your slit, enjoying your taste and how you squirmed. He sucked on your clit, his eyes flicking up to watch you squirm and gasp. You made eye contact with him, light a fire in your tummy.

You could feel Rindou smile against you as he continued. His tongue swirled over your throbbing clit, his fingers slipping into your soaked heat. “Oh fuck,” you moaned, fingers tangling in his hair. He loved how you pulled it, making his scalp burn. Rindou was pressing into your g-spot hard and fast. “Nngh- fuck Rin right there.”

He responded to your cries instantly, pressing harder, licking faster. He felt you humming on his fingers before the first moan even escaped your lips. Rindou had secretly thought about this moment for so long, but nothing he imagined lived up to experiencing you cum on his tongue.

“So fucking sweet,” Rindou said as he licked up your release. The sweet, blissed out look on your face made his cock feel heavy. He need you now.

“Rindou,” you whimpered, “Please, need you inside.” He was glad you agreed. He teased your hole with the tip of his flushed cock until he couldn’t help but sink into you. His head fell back, hissing through his teeth.

“So fucking tight,” he groaned, “Can’t believe I’ve missing out on pussy this good. I’m dumbest man alive.”

You laughed at his babbling. “Why don't you fuck me like you’re making up for lost time, then?”

Rindou’s eyes burned with lust. He hooked a hand under your leg, pressing a knee up to your chest. He leaned into you, a wide smile on his face. “I might just be the luckiest man alive.”

With that he began snapping his hips into yours. His rhythm was deep and long, working you easily. The head of his cock hit your sweet spot with every thrust, making your pussy pulse and back arch. “’M so close Rin.”

“Cum for me baby,” Rindou urged, “Lemme feel you squeezing my cock.” His words sent you over the edge, eye rolling back as you were blinded by pleasure. You moaned his name, feeling yourself throb around his thick cock. Rindou cursed, his own orgasm washing over him as he watch you com undone. He slowed, letting himself milk out every last moment.

Rindou collapsed on top of you, both catching your breath. You pushed his damp hair out go his eyes. “If I’d known all it took to get you to admit how it felt was kissing Ran, I woulda done it forever ago.”

Rindou rolled his eyes, but smiled. “I’m just glad we’re done being idiots.”

“Oh we are definitely still idiots,” you replied, giving him a quick kiss. “But now we are idiots together.”

A/n: that corny ass hallmark ending lmfao. Ty for reading though<3

#rindou smut #rindou headcanons #rindou haitani smut #rindou fanfic #rindou haitani headcanons #rindou hcs #tokyo revengers smut #tokyo revengers fanfiction #tokyorev x reader

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wriothesleybear · 11 months

Text

Tea Time with Wriothesley

~ contents: pre-fontaine wriothesley, fluff, a bit suggestive

~ a/n: i'm not that much of a tea person except for sweet iced teas, but i'd wanna have tea time with wriothesley🥺 this sorta made me blush and smile while writing this, but i hope this isn't cringe lol. I hope you guys enjoy it also :)

In the room, the ticking of a clock and papers shuffling can be heard. Wriothesley puts the papers down to close his eyes and rubs the bridge of his nose. He glances at the clock and sees he's been working overtime for about an hour and a half. He looks at the stack of papers on his desk and sighs. It's gonna be a while more until he finishes with today's paper work. He grabs the papers he put down to continue reading. Suddenly, there's a knock at his door. He tenses and sighs, thinking it's a coworker bringing more work to him. He tells the person to come in. The door opens and he visibly relaxes when he sees it's you.

"It's over your work hours and you haven't come home yet. I figured you got caught up with work again."

He chuckles as he puts down the papers. "Yeah, it's been a very chaotic day today."

You walk towards his desk and as you got closer, you noticed the faint bags under his eyes. You then begin to comb your fingers through his hair, causing him to close his eyes. He has a faint smile on his face.

"When was the last time you took a break?"

He tenses a bit. With his eyes still closed, he signs and says "Not since noon, but that was only for 5 minutes until I had to go out to capture a group of criminals we've been hunting for a while in the main part of the city." You figured he wouldn't be able to leave work anytime soon so you began to think of something you could do to help your boyfriend get through his work. You stop combing his hair and pull your hand away. He opens his eyes and you could see in his eyes, his was wondering why you stopped. You giggle.

"How about I make you some tea? I know that will help you hold you over until you're done with your paperwork." His face softens as a small smile forms.

"As long as you don't try to switch out my drink with one of Sigewinne's drinks again."

You gasp. "That was one time. I was only trying to help her mess with you."

He silently smirks at you.

You roll your eyes and smile. "I promise I won't switch out your tea with one of her drinks." He chuckles.

You walk over to the little drink center in his office where his usually makes his tea. You decide on some green tea to help keep Wriothesley awake while you make yourself some hibiscus tea.

Once the green tea was done heating up, you remember your boyfriend prefers the bitter taste of tea, wanting no sugar, milk, or cream added. While you prefer sweet things, adding about four spoonful of sugar to overpower the bitter taste of the tea.

While making the tea, you didn't notice the eyes watching you the whole time instead of focusing on the paperwork in his hands. Wriothesley put the papers down, quietly got up from his chair, and walked over to you where your back was turned and you were too focused on getting the tea right.

Suddenly, you feel strong arms wrap around your waist, startling you and causing you to squeak. You feel the breath from your boyfriend on your neck as he chuckles.

"You're cute when you squeak like a little mouse."

You blush. "Don't tease me or I'll add sugar to your tea."

He laughs and buries his face in your neck. " But you promised you wouldn't do anything to my tea."

"Yeah, well if you pick on me, I'll mess with your tea."

He laughs some more and apologizes.

You smile and relax in his arms. "The tea is almost ready."

"It smells good. I'm starting to feel relaxed already." His arms tighten a bit more around you. He leaves a light kiss on your neck. He enjoys little moments like this with you. "But that could also be because I have you here in my arms."

You blush. "You're teasing me again."

"Maybe. But it is true. You help me get through the rough moments of work". You smile. He always knew how to make your heart race. You move your hand up to his hair to comb through it again.

After a few minutes of staying in that position, "The tea is ready" you said.

He hums. "Let's just stay like this for a while longer." You wanted to say how the tea would get cold but you would be lying if you said you didn't want to stay like this a while longer also. You snuggled further into him to silently tell him okay.

You can always heat up the tea and have it later.

#wriothesley x reader #wriothesley #genshin impact headcanons #genshin impact x reader #wriothesley headcanons

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pandalexoxo · 1 month

Text

OKAY BEAR WITH ME Y’ALL. I HAVEN’T PLAYED THE GAME SO I’M JUST GOING OFF OF SOME TIRED OLD MAN TROPES.

FRANCIS MOSES x READER

also, i haven’t written down any of my rules, but i don’t have any limits! i’ll write whatever requests people send me! whatever your dark mind can think of will be my pleasure to create!

i don’t mind if you’re not 18+, since, if i ever do make smut i’ll just label it as 18+ and TRUST that 18+ ONLY will read. you all have probably seen, but i’ve just written about my thoughts of different fandoms so far so there’s no 18+ posts YET. (maybe i’ll make this account SFW and do another for NSFW? idk, i normally post on other platforms but randomly decided to give tumblr a try lol)

as a NM/trans man myself, i TRY to keep my readers gender neutral by not really describing the characters features. hard on TRY bc i know the last blurb fic i made of dead plate was Rody x Male Reader lol, oopsies! anywhooo, enjoy~!

WARNINGS! doppleganger mention, possible unconsciousness, possible death, possible unfunny dialogue (bc sometimes i’m the only one who finds me hilarious lmfao), you’re kinda a baddie ngl, you and Francis are besties, Francis is a cat lover?! Francis is a tired old man who hates technology. phone mentioned despite the first wireless phone being made 23 years after the story takes place (use your imagination) uhhh, anything else i forget? comment below!

Francis let out a long sigh of relief, taking his cap off with one hand, using the other to dab away at his sweaty forehead with a handkerchief. Upon seeing the exhausted man, you can’t help but smile softly, shaking your head as you get ready to scold him, once again. You cross your arms, looking at him through the window with a playful disappointed glare.

“mhm mhm, what do we have here? you really should be getting more sleep, mr. milkman, your eyes are starting to sport their own eye bags.”

with this comment, Francis shakes his head but is unable to stop the small, yet tired smile on his face. he bends down to place the crate of milk jugs onto the floor before handing over his ID card. you hum, narrowing your eyes when Francis doesn’t give into your whims. you eye his card, glancing at it a few times before slipping it back to him with a chuckle.

Francis’s eyebrow raises in confusion at your reaction but ends up shaking his head, rolling his eyes playfully and sighing softly. he places his cap back on his head and huffs, deeming your reaction as a go ahead inside.

“now… what if i was a doppelganger? you aren’t even going to call my room to check if someone is there? such a reliable doorman we have.”

despite Francis’s playful tone, your grin slips into a frown as you study Francis from behind the glass. this causes him to tense up, suddenly feeling nervous, like he did something wrong. you hum, tilting your head into your palm as you seemingly analyze Francis for a little while before deciding to speak.

“what’s up brother?”

Francis blinks a few times in surprise, his head tilting in confusion at your question. His eyes narrow as he thinks about the question you asked.

“what’s… up… brother…?”

Francis looks up at the ceiling, taking your question to heart. upon seeing nothing on the ceiling, Francis can only shake his head and sigh at your antics.

“are you done with your tomfoolery, (Y/n)? i’m quite exhausted and would like to go up to my room and rest.”

you can only shake your head, clasping your hands together like a disappointed father getting ready to discuss their kids grades at the dinner table. you begin to explain.

“when Francis first walks in here, he always forgets one of three things… his keys, his hat or the crate of milk. you came in here, although exhausted, you seemed put together, unlike Francis, who is clearly going through a midlife crisis. Francis will then ask me about my cat, well, because he’s a cat person, though he insists no one knows. oh, and, Francis’s home phone has been broken for the past few days and is actually at the store, right now. so, Francis being here so soon, isn’t possible. that, and well, Francis never understands my references, but indulges me anyway… anything else i forgot, doppelganger?”

you bat your eyelashes, smirking from behind the window like you just cracked down the traitor in your group. with each statement, Francis’s doppelgänger’s face becomes visibly more and more angry until the doppelganger begins to completely change: black eyes with white pupils, a wide and eerie black mouth, adorned with long and sharp claws on the end of the doppleganger’s elongated limbs.

“you… you’ll regret this… i will get in one day and get my feast, starting with you. i’ll gut you, keep you alive so you can watch your organs fall out of your body and your blood splatter against-! *CLANK! BAM! PLINK!*”

before the doppelganger could finish his fantasy, much to your amusement, the doppleganger’s body tenses upon being struck before crumpling to the floor after becoming unconscious. you look up from the doppleganger’s body to see the real Francis hovering above the, possibly dead, doppelganger. you shrug, knowing that you wouldn’t have to call DDD services to take care of the mess, now you just have to clean up the body.

“mmm… tuesday… tuesday…? did i get that right?”

you hold back a chuckle at Francis’s response to your last question. you can only nod, letting Francis have the win this time. pinching the bridge of your nose and sighing, a loud laugh bubbles up from your throat as the two of you realized what Francis had hit the doppelganger with.

“ngh… i just bought this phone… damnit… his hard head must have broke it, ah, if i bring it back could i get a… refund…?”

#tnmn #tnmn milkman #tnmn fanfic #tnmn francis mosses #tnmn x reader #tnmn x male reader #that’s not my neighbor x male reader #that’s not my neighbor x reader #francis mosses x male reader #francis mosses x reader #doppleganger #d.d.d

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fivie · 4 months

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I keep thinking about how well grantaire and anna would get along (before she gets re-brainwashed)... i know you've moved away from spn canon with UMW but do you have thoughts on how your characters would theoretically interact with spn characters?

ah yes, the re-brainwashing was very unfortunate 😔

my main headcanon re. UMW characters meeting SPN characters is that if Enjolras and Grantaire met Sam and Dean, based on Enjolras's personality and him having the sword, they would absolutely assume he was the angel of the pair 😂 Dean would probably commiserate with Grantaire about the challenges of hanging out with a socially challenged angel, and Grantaire would absolutely go along with it. Then Cas would show up and be like 'hello brother 😐' and spoil his fun.

I think Enjolras and Dean would butt heads, but Sam and Combeferre would probably get along quite well. I hope the spirit of Victor Hugo can't see me typing this.

Ages ago I actually started writing a little crossover story just for fun but I found it really weird 😂 I don't know if I'll ever write any more of it so I'll put what I have under a cut here if anyone wants to read it lol

(it is definitely not UMW canon 😂)

Grantaire is in a long-abandoned barn in rural Belgium, idly sweeping up the ashy remains of the shapeshifter that had been terrorising the nearby village in the guise of a local cryptid legend, when Combeferre pops into his mind with a bemusing prayer:

Don't come back to my apartment right now.

Grantaire pauses, awaiting further details. If Combeferre were in danger, he's sure he wouldn't bother beating around the bush, so Grantaire isn't overly worried, but Combeferre has never told him to stay away before and so he waits, curious. A minute or so later, an even more bemusing continuation:

Or if you do, make sure you come in through the front door like a human would.

Sometimes Grantaire desperately wishes that the prayer communication line went both ways. Combeferre feels distracted, like there are many other things demanding his attention and he is snatching at quiet moments to send Grantaire fragmented intel. Finally:

Other hunters here.

With that, the pieces slot together. Grantaire personally thinks it would be kind of funny for him to drop in on a room full of Musain hunters, especially the ones who'd written him off as a drunken waste of space years ago, and he could always erase their memories after if it was going to cause problems, but he supposes that Combeferre's solution of just keeping him away for a while is simpler. He finishes his clean up and is just about to return to Jehan's house when Combeferre reaches out again.

Could use your expertise for this. Come back if you're able? But please be discreet.

Grantaire snorts. He thinks he'll enjoy having a conversation with Combeferre later about why it's okay to pretend that he's human to other hunters, but not to Enjolras or Combeferre himself. He's well aware of the difference and the reasoning, of course, but he does like watching Combeferre wrestle with a moral quandary.

Enjolras is here, too.

This last part sounds like a warning, and Grantaire supposes it is, and one he should be thankful for. He braces himself before flying back to Combeferre's building, going up the stairs with pointed emphasis and hoping everyone in the apartment can hear his very normal, very human footsteps approaching. He opens the apartment door, calling out a greeting, and he steps inside and the world stops.

The other angel in Combeferre's living room stares at him, his human face registering only mild surprise even as his luminous true form roils and sparks in shock and alarm and, of course, horrifyingly, recognition. Grantaire stares back for a wild, world-tilting moment, and then he flies in a mad flurry, grabbing Enjolras and Combeferre and taking them to the furthest side of the room, pushing them behind him. Combeferre, who had just expressly told Grantaire to be on his best and most human behaviour, calls his name in confused dismay, and Enjolras is saying something too, demanding to know what he's doing, and there are two other humans here too, making their own noise, but then—

"Hello, brother," Castiel says, and all the humans in the room fall deathly silent.

Grantaire doesn't answer. His hand instinctively twitches to curl around the handle of a blade not currently in his possession. He can feel the presence of his sword burning in Enjolras's coat pocket and he wonders if the split second it would take for him to get to it will mean fiery death for all of them.

Three thousand years, he thinks. Three thousand years he successfully kept his head down, and then Combeferre goes and invites another angel into his living room—!

"Aw no, brother?" one of the new humans repeats. Grantaire doesn't dare take his eyes off Castiel, but the human sounds exasperated. He also sounds American, which raises many questions but also answers the one of why they are all here and not at the Musain. Grantaire can only imagine the Musain hunters' reaction to Americans descending upon their home base. "Cas, are you serious?"

"He's pretty clearly serious." The other human puts himself in Grantaire's line of vision, stepping between him and Castiel with one hand raised placatingly. He's uncommonly tall and more than broad enough in the shoulders to be considered physically imposing by human standards, but his posture and expression are currently extremely non-confrontational—he looks nervous, and sort of concerned. He looks at Grantaire first but then, clearly finding no invitation in his stony face, tilts his head to look past him at Enjolras and Combeferre instead. "So, uh. Got yourselves an angel."

"As do you, it would seem," Combeferre says with measured calm. It's strange to hear him speak English. Out of the corner of his eye, Grantaire sees him take half a step forward and hisses back at him, "Don't."

"Hey, who are you? Do we know you?" the first human says suddenly. "Are you an old douchebag in a new meat-suit?"

"Dean," Castiel says in quiet admonishment.

"What? It's not like we can tell."

"You don't know him," Castiel tells him before turning back to Grantaire. "This isn't necessary. I'm not going to harm you or these humans. You should calm yourself."

"And if you want to harm Cas then we're going to have a problem," the tall human says.

Grantaire makes no attempt to calm himself. "Are you alone?" he demands of Castiel, whose vessel affects a faintly puzzled expression.

"I'm here with Sam and Dean," he says slowly, and Grantaire scowls.

"I mean," he says, "where is your garrison?"

"I no longer serve Heaven, Rachmiel," Castiel says in oddly gentle tones, as if he's just realised why Grantaire would be so horrified to see him.

"Do not call me that," Grantaire snaps with a sharp shake of his head. "You—what do you mean?"

"I am...fallen." There's a strange mixture of pride and shame in Castiel's voice as he says it. "My loyalties were tested and I found them to lie more with humanity than with our brothers and sisters."

"You…" Grantaire's mind, emerging from the initial shock, starts to piece things together, starts to remember. "I saw you. Last year. You were killing angels and humans. Hundreds of them."

"Hey, that wasn't Cas," one of the humans, Dean, starts to protest, while Grantaire hears twin sharp intakes of breath from Combeferre and Enjolras as they apparently make the connection between the God-Monster they'd seen on screen all those months ago and the mild-mannered man standing before them now.

"Look, okay, let's...We didn't come here to fight," says the other human, whom Grantaire assumes, through elimination, to be Sam. "It's complicated, okay? But Castiel is with us. He's not the bad guy. He's saved our lives more times than I can count and—hell, he helped us stop the apocalypse."

"Did he say the apocalypse?" Grantaire hears Enjolras mutter behind him.

"What did you two have to do with the…?" Grantaire looks at the two strangers properly for the first time and feels a fresh wave of hysteria. There is a lot to be read from their souls that he will unpack later, but most pressingly, he can see who they are—what they are. "You're the vessels." His undoubtedly wild-eyed gaze swings back to Castiel. "You're walking around with Michael and Lucifer's vessels? You brought them here?"

"Michael and Lucifer are both in the cage," Castiel says. "I do not expect they will be coming looking for their vessels."

"And they already know that they do not have consent to take either of us for a ride," Dean says with a grimly sardonic smile.

Grantaire's head feels like it's going to explode, which wouldn't kill him but would undoubtedly be very distressing for Enjolras and Combeferre to witness. He wills his vessel to hold it together.

"Grantaire," Combeferre says quietly—even that makes him jump. Combeferre speaks to him in soft, rapid-fire French that the Americans clearly do not understand and that Castiel politely pretends not to hear. "If he's really broken with Heaven, isn't that a good thing? For you to not be the only one?"

Grantaire casts a somewhat tortured glance back at him, not anywhere near ready to accept the idea that running into anyone from his family could ever be good, before looking inevitably back to Castiel, unable to keep his eyes from returning to the perceived threat in the room.

"It is good to see you," Castiel says, horribly earnest. "I believed you dead."

"Yeah, that was the idea," Grantaire snaps. Castiel tilts his head to one side like a confused puppy, a crease appearing between his eyebrows.

"You've been in hiding," he hazards finally.

"Pretty successfully, up until now," Grantaire says.

"Hey, just like Gabriel," Dean remarks. "You gotta wonder how many other angels flew the coop."

"Gabriel," Combeferre repeats in tones of disbelief that match Grantaire's own feelings. "The archangel? He also…?"

"Gabriel is dead," Grantaire says bluntly.

"Yeah, but he had a good run hanging out down here pretending to be a trickster god," Dean says with a smile that suggests not-so-fond remembrance. "What've you been hiding out as? Some other deity?"

There's an agonising sort of pause, and then it's Enjolras who says, not without bitterness, "A human."

Dean whistles. "That's a bold choice."

"Rachmiel," Castiel says, and Grantaire wants to scream. "Heaven will not hear of any of this from me. You and your humans are safe. Please. I—Here."

He puts one hand up as if in surrender while his blade falls from the sleeve of his coat into his other hand. He holds it up, slowly and demonstratively, before setting it down on Combeferre's coffee table and stepping back.

There is a very strange, very awkward moment where Castiel and his two humans look at Grantaire expectantly, waiting for him to return the gesture and disarm. Finally, Enjolras steps forward. He catches Grantaire's eye questioningly and, at his nod, takes Grantaire's blade out of his own coat and lays it next to Castiel's. Dean and Sam's eyebrows shoot up and Castiel gives a slow, considered blink, but mercifully all three of them refrain from saying anything about the matter.

#umw stuff

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