hi! my name is corinna!! I go by she/her pronouns and am 19. just like many of you I love reading fics and occasionally write <3 this is just something I do for fun so updates may be a bit inconsistent or writing may have a few errors but I hope you will enjoy something I write regardless <3
REQUESTS ARE currently closed!
BYF: please be 18+, i may occasionally post or portray the character dynamics I write about as toxic, non-canon, etc (this will be properly tagged if so), just because I believe that's human nature realistically. please read tags and stay safe!
NOTE: my only accounts where I post my writing are here and my AO3, if you see it anywhere else it is not me posting it
who do I write for currently?
the long walk (based off movie adaptation)
ray garraty, peter mcvries, billy stebbins, gary barkovitch
things to keep in mind if requesting!
all the characters i write for are 18+
if it's smut, i only write fem reader but i can write gender neutral fluff/angst!
I will not write:
character x character, m!reader (I could not do you justice I'm sorry </3), dark or extreme content, pregnant reader or pregnancy (breeding is fine lol), specific physical traits for the reader (certain eye color, certain hair, etc) because i want everyone to be able to identify with the reader as much as possible!
summary: when pete won the long walk, the prize he asked for was for the major’s beloved daughter as his wife… an eye for an eye, for ray. but his plans to make your life a living hell slowly come to an end as he realizes his growing feelings for you won’t let him hurt you anymore.
content warning: minors dni, mentions of violence, mentions of wanting to hurt reader, grief, female bodied reader, fingering, unprotected sex, choking, biting, a bit of book!pete.
author’s note: english isn’t my first language so please be nice! the beginning is very very angsty but this is what happens when you go through a traumatic event so keep that in mind.
word count: 3345
You thought you were safe. Different, better than the others. Because of all the children the major had, you were the only one he accepted. All those bastards crawling on the floor in front of him for a bit of attention, while you shared the same home as him, called him dad, lived a normal life. You thought you were safe, until a man you’ve never heard of said the few words that ruined it all… Until your own father, the man you looked up to despite all the terrible things he’s done, sealed your fate.
You saw it on tv, how he didn’t even hesitate, how he sold you to that man full of spite, anger and revenge, without a second thought. First, there was the shock of being dismissed so easily, of being seen as nothing but a special prize, a trophy. Then came the wrath, crushing your heart into so many pieces… And finally, the sadness, finishing the job. But above all, there was fear — Because you’ve seen the fire in that man’s eyes, the silent promise of making your life hell just for being the major’s daughter. A daughter he would proudly show around because of how smart you were, how talented you were in so many fields… A daughter he ultimately sold to the devil.
He didn’t even have to wait to collect his prize, as he said he wanted to marry you now — Smart bastard. So when the major got home, all he told you was to pack your things fast, because your future husband was waiting outside, standing in the rain, surrounded by soldiers — just in case —. Vision blurry by tears that wouldn’t stop, you still managed to see him as you stepped outside. Tall, built like a truck, face hardened by a thousand pains. He stared at you like he was about to break you — And in this very moment, you felt it all. The grief, sorrow, the desire to avenge himself and his fallen friends. He couldn’t get the major because it would have been too easy… So he picked you instead, hoping the major would beg for him to spare you. But he didn’t. Didn’t even show a sign of discomfort, of sadness… Because you were nothing to him. You were a bait, just an other rabbit that would allow him to run faster.
The wedding you dreamt of as a child, flowers surrounding you, loved ones sat on decorated benches, love and affection filling the air, was replaced by the rain, the cold night and the priest doing his best to end the ceremony faster. There was no bouquet of flowers, no pretty dress and no dim light… Just his bleak stare, an old ring he would wear that was way too big for your finger, a kiss that conveyed nothing but pure disgust, and the name of your husband — Peter McVries.
You can’t even remember the drive back “home”, soldiers dropping you off to that miserable apartment that became yours. Numb by your endless silent cries, fear embraced your entire body as the door slammed shut behind you. He wouldn’t even look at you anymore, standing right in front of his couch, unable to sit down. Days of walking — no, it didn’t even start with the long walk. Pete spent a lifetime of running away from things… Yet he knew his life changed, probably for the worst, when Ray died… No, when he was murdered right in front of him. Ray could have won — Should have won, not him. How stupid he was, to walk again, not turning around soon enough… Maybe he was his friend’s murderer, after all.
And you stood there, your bag at your feet, unable to say something… And chaos began. Things started flying across the room, his screams echoing in your ears as his fist sank in the nearest wall. Shivers covered your skin as you watched in terror, knowing oh so well that trying to interfere, saying something would cost you way too much… Yet you did. As Pete was about to punch a window, your trembling hands grabbed his wrist, in a pitiful attempt to make him stop. But you’re nothing against the strength of a man that seemed to have lost everything, and soon enough, your entire body crashes against the ground.
“Don’t fucking touch me ever again.” He spat, tongue like poison.
These were the last words he said to you, in days. Weeks. And that was also the very last time Pete hurt you, even if he didn’t mean to. The pain was too real, the anger was too fierce for him to handle. Yet, you could swear you saw a glint of regret in his eyes as he watched you fall on the ground, trying your best not to cry.
The cohabitation in the tiny apartment was terrible, to say the least. And you wondered why he wouldn’t just buy a pretty big flat with all that money he won from the long walk… Wondered why he kept working such an ungrateful job while he could just rest and spend his days just the way he wanted. Pete would wake up early in the morning, come back home late. He would eat what you cooked, by himself, not even sparing you a glance, then sleep on the couch as he would refuse to share a bed with you. Sometimes he would break a thing or two, letting his frustration out, but never raising a hand on you. And sometimes, you even wished he would hurt you physically — Because it would mean that he sees you. Because you couldn’t endure a life of loneliness and ignorance. So sometimes, you’d try. To talk to him, to ask him about his day… You’d spend hours in the kitchen cooking delicious meals, hoping for a faint smile, for a glance… Something. Anything. But all you were met with was a wall so thick it wouldn’t crack. Grief ate him whole, and left absolutely nothing behind.
And as you were about to give up, to accept a miserable life you felt you didn’t deserve, a faint light glimmered right before your eyes.
Wednesday evening, a day just like the others. The door opens to a visibly exhausted Pete, and you know oh so well what it means — No question, no wrong move. So you silently put his food on his plate as he gets rid of his shoes, fear suffocating your heart, trying not to look at him. And as you were about to turn around to head back in the kitchen, you see it — The book on the table. New, bought from the nearest library, probably. Confusion took over your face as your eyes meet his, and for the first time in what felt to you like an eternity, disgust seemed to have left his being entirely.
“You’ve been reading the same three books since you’re here, just wanted to give you something new.”
You stand there, frozen, for a minute, as Pete sits down to eat his meal. Gently, you finally gather enough courage to take the book in your hands, the fear of damaging it so big you’re being excessively cautious. Not only was this a new book, but this was also from your favorite author… And that in itself brought tears to your eyes. Truth is Pete would look at you, only when he knew you wouldn’t catch him red handed. When you would read, cook, dust the furnitures. And the more he looked at you, the more he realised how fucked up he was. How messy of him it was to marry you without your consent, how selfish he was to tear you apart just because you happened to be the daughter of a man he despised. We don’t choose our parents, Pete knows that more than anyone… Yet he picked you, an easy prey, to make himself feel better.
“Thank you, thank you so much,” your voice cracked, as you stormed in the kitchen, to hide your tears.
From then, things slowly started to get better… Slowly, but surely. Sometimes it would be a book waiting for you on your nightstand in the morning, sometimes a bouquet of flowers. Sometimes some cash to spend wherever you wanted… One time he even gifted you a dress. Pete would still struggle to talk, but you started to eat dinner at the same table as him, and that itself was a blessing. He was tolerating you around, and that was everything you needed in this very moment.
And while you were getting better, while your happiness was finally settling in, Pete, on the other hand, was fighting his inner demons. He had to remind himself, every single day, that he wasn’t betraying Ray. That Ray would have wanted him to live a happy life, not to drown in revenge and spite. The plan was so easy to follow — Steal the major’s sweet daughter from him, make her life a living hell, then ravish on her pain and tears. You made his life a living hell. With your pretty smile, the way you treated him so nicely with good meals and sweet attentions here and there when he ignored you, treated you like you didn’t even exist. You made it hard for him to hate you, always trying to please him, talk to him, making sure he has a lunch to bring at work, preparing his clothes for the day ahead… How could you be so kind to someone like him? That very thought haunted him, devoured his soul until all he had in mind was you.
So when he got home that night and he saw you with that pretty dress he bought you a week ago, something in him snapped. The warmth of your smile, the way you were waiting for him just like you’d do every day, it was all too much yet not enough. He didn’t even remove his shoes, bolting towards you right before crashing his lips on yours. Startled to say the least, it took you a few seconds to realise what was going on, Pete’s arms tightening around your hips in a futile attempt to keep you close — Futile, as you would not go anywhere. Your hands quickly find their way to his hair, gently tugging on it as your own lips moved in sync with his. Soon enough, his hands grabbed your behind, lifting you from the ground so your legs could gently wrapped themselves around his waist. His kiss was desperate, full of something you quite couldn’t put your finger on, yet you were more than eager to give anything you had to give to him.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered in between kisses, leading you to the bedroom, leaving his shoes behind. Sorry for being a monster. Sorry for ruining your life.
All you did was nodding, almost aggressively, too lost in the warmth of his embrace, the passion in his kisses, to even think of refusing his apology. Pete gently dropped you on his bed, swiftly positioning himself in between your legs, his face disappearing in the crook of your neck. Inhaling your scent, his teeth sank in your flesh, tongue lapping at the skin. Eyelids fluttering shut, your back gently arched against the mattress as your nails dug into his shoulder blades, a sweet moan escaping from your lips as his hips started rolling against yours.
“Pete, make me yours, please,” you didn’t want to sound so desperate, but here you were. And when he raised his head to take a look at you only to be met with this pretty face of yours, almost begging for him to mark you in ways that made him painfully hard, he knew he was damned to be yours for the rest of his life. Something he would gladly agree with.
“Don’t ask me things you could regret.”
His hand gently fell on your cheek, thumb caressing it with so much softness you thought was impossible coming from him. The adoration in his eyes, the soft kiss he pressed on the tip of your nose… You’re glad humans aren’t able to melt because you’d already be a puddle of wax.
“I won’t, I swear… So make me.”
An other kiss, full of lust and desire, only coming to an end when Pete decided it was time for him to get rid of his shirt — A sight for sore eyes. He was all muscles, a few scars here and there, the most beautiful thing God has created, if there’s one. Lost in the contemplation of the man standing right before your eyes, you only came back to your senses when you felt his fingers skilfully unbuttoning your dress, your breast now free from its confine. Pete sucked in a breath, his lips latching on your right nipple, his hand slipping in your panties.
The gasps you let out was music to his ears, his middle finger collecting your wetness as his lips and tongue worked magic on your breast. The back of your head sank in your pillow, hips stuttering at the feeling of his fingers on your most intimate body part. Pete stared at you while pushing his middle finger in you, watching for any sign of discomfort, teeth gently nipping at your nipple, leaving rosy marks here and there. His thumb found your clit with ease, toying with your little bundle of nerves so diligently you’re already shaking and moaning his name. It’s too bad you’re too far gone to notice the smirk on his lips, holding onto him for dear life as his two fingers bump against your sweet spot.
“You’re loving this, angel?”
You can barely hear him, overstimulated by his lips on your skin, his fingers pumping into you like his life depends on it, and his thumb still toying with your clit. Tears prickling the corner of your eyes, your body is shaken by a multitude of little spasms, stars dancing across your vision.
“Oh Pete, I’m so so close—”
And it crashes over you. Hits you like a truck. Waves of pleasure that has you tipping over the edge. Your orgasm hits you with so much strength you feel you’re about to pass out, broken cries echoing in the bedroom. And Pete doesn’t miss a single second of this glorious show. The disheveled look on your face, the way your back arches and the tip of your nose scrunches in delight.
“That’s it, let go,” Pete murmurs, fingers of his free hand caressing your inner thighs, attempting to calm you down. Embarrassment takes over your cheeks as you realise how fast and easy it has been for him to have you come undone — A few minutes, at most… And he finds it very amusing.
“Still want me to go ahead?”
You nod, one hand on his chest, the other in his hair. Slowly, he pulls his fingers out of you, his free hand cupping your face to make sure you’re looking at him.
“You have to use your words, I’m not doing anything without you telling me I can.”
Suddenly, you feel so small. The hint of authority in his voice, the way he wouldn’t stop staring, after weeks of avoiding you. It’s embarrassing, how you want to close your legs because it made you even more wet.
“ I want you to go ahead, please,” you plea, eyes begging for mercy.
It takes absolutely no time for him together rid of his own jeans and boxers, then your dress and panties… That he almost ripped in the process. With his cock in his hand, Pete sits back on his heels, the leaking tip brushing against your puffy lips. It has you shivering, tiny chills covering your flesh as you prop yourself on your elbows to watch it all. One hand on your waist, the other guiding himself, he pushes himself into you little by little — And it takes everything in him not to snap his hips against yours and ruin you. You’re so tight, velvet walls gripping his cock like a vice. Pete groans, finally bottoming out. It’s like he stole all the air from your lungs, leaving you breathless. It stings, and you felt like you are split open, but oh god does it feel good.
“Fuck, you’re so tight,” His brows furrow, and he’s glad when you ask him to stay still a bit so you can adjust, because I would have burst here and there. When he sees your head gently tilting to the back, Pete can’t resist anymore — The palm of his hands against the mattress, his teeth find their way up your exposed shoulder and neck, biting and marking the flesh until it turns purple.
“Please fuck me hard,” you sigh, moans falling off your tongue as he relentlessly marks his territory. He pulls out, almost entirely, before slamming back in, rough and merciless — pulls the most erotic cry off you as you start moving your hips beneath him. And he soon realises he has to snake an arm around your waist to keep you steady, the other still on the mattress to prevent himself from falling on you. Pete feels intoxicated as he rocks his hips against yours, faster and faster, the shameless moans thumbing out of your mouth keeping him going.
He can’t keep his eyes off you, obsessed by the way your face shows all the emotions you’re going through, how your eyes widened when his cock bumps against that very spot that has you shaking under him. He tried — so hard, to stop looking at your neck, how naked it feels without his hand around it, how beautiful it would look with his fingers applying the right amount of pressure… But he’s losing that battle, and, without stopping his merciless thrusts, his fingers wrap around your pretty throat, just enough to knock the air off your lungs.
You’re just so pretty like this, almost gasping for air, eyes rolling at the back of your head, choking on a cry. Your hand on his, you want him to know it feels so good, the other gripping the sheets to not lose the fragile thread that ties you to the reality. And when he angles his hips just right, pistoning in and out of you, pupils blown wide, you’re done for.
“Oh God, I—”
Wildfire spreads through your entire beauty as you reach your second climax of the night, even more devastating than the last. For a moment, you can’t see, can’t hear — Can only feel the unmanageable amount of pleasure that strikes you. Your entire body almost convulses under him, a silent cry leaving your parted lips as you feel your walls tightening around him, making it harder and harder for him to keep thrusting. His hand grips the sheets, leaving your throat as his hips stutter when he releases his fluid inside you, painting your walls white in a deep groan. So much it’s already leaking out of you, pooling in between your legs.
Eyes glassy, breathless, it takes a moment for you to come off your high. The first thing you feel is gentle kisses pressed against your whole face — Your half closed eyelids, the tip of your nose, your forehead, your cheeks, then your lips… And you can’t help but smile sheepishly, your arms now wrapped around his neck. Your eyes meet his, and in this very moment, you’re sure everything will be alright.
“May I share this bed with you tonight ?”
His voice is low, like he doesn’t want to bother you — Like he’s scared you would say no. So you lift up your head from the pillow, tenderly pecking his lips.
right now i'm working on an inexperienced/slightly stalkerish barkovitch x reader that's currently at 5.5k words and very plot heavy since i yearn for a small town summer romance even though it's the middle of october ....
that will come out first and i also have drafted a lot of other things since, so it would help me out a ton if you vote for what you would like to see after that!
thank you so much to anyone who's sent in requests! i want to try and get to as many of them as possible so i will be closing them for now while i catch up <3
next fic?
ray garraty and pete mcvries relationship + nsfw hcs
ray garraty x reader x pete mcvries (threesome with his best friend)
featuring: ray garraty, pete mcvries, billy stebbins, gary barkovitch
warnings: none just fluff! the boys favorite ways to give and recieve affection
description: just something unrequested and short while i work on some longer fics!! i'm posting a poll after this if you'd like to vote on what you want to see next, thank u for reading and ur input!! <3
RAY GARRATY — quality time
Ray is a romantic at heart, even when he's not trying to be.
His dad had raised him right, and always told him that if you love someone deeply, you have to show it; listen to them, spend time together, keep their secrets and your promises. Still, he never fully understood what that meant until he met you.
Even when the two of you were just talking, he would drop everything to come and see you as soon as you called his house phone.
He preferred to plan things ahead of time so he could have something to look forward to and to make sure you could spend the whole day together. But even if he's already out with his friends, he always finds some excuse to leave early and come hang out with you instead (yes, he's one of those boyfriends who ditches the guys to go spend time with you... but who can blame him?)
He loves taking you out on dates. They don't have to be fancy (he doesn't really have the money for that anyways) but he makes sure the two of you go somewhere together at least once a week. If you're too tired, then he's happy with just a night drive, baking together or sitting on his porch talking until you have to go home for the evening.
He loves to just make conversation. He's got a real good memory, so he's always asking you questions, because he really just wants to know everything about you— your favorite movies, songs, books; if you mention something he's never heard of, then he'll make it a point to watch, listen or read it just so the two of you have more to talk about later. If you mention a new dessert or food you've been meaning to try, he'll ask his mom to teach him how to make it, so you can share it together. Everything he does is really just another excuse to talk to you or stretch the time he was with you a little longer.
Pretty much everything you do makes him melt, but what he loves the most is when you make time for him. Knowing that you've dropped everything just to spend the day together and talk, that he's your first choice, is what he loves the most.
He can't help it; spending time with you is his favorite thing to do, and it's his preferred way of showing you just how much he loves you.
PETE MCVRIES — words of affirmation
Pete has always been a talker.
He flirts without even thinking, even to his friends, which at first makes it really hard to tell if he was actually into you or if that's just how he is.
Before you two start seeing each other officially, he uses it as something he can hide behind; plausible deniability and all that. He'll really lay it on thick with you and if you don't flirt back, then he can just say that he was only kidding around.
After you two start officially dating, you do start to recognize a difference in the way he talks with you and the way he talks to others. He gets weirdly poetic, comparing your beauty to the moon or the mountains, calling you all sorts of pet names that make you blush. He teases you with all these metaphors and one-liners that sound like they're from songs and it'd almost be cheesy if he didn't mean it so much.
He's such a good listener, too. He jokes around a lot, but if you ever need someone to actually talk to about serious problems, then he's there for you. He gives you the best advice he's got, because he's seen a lot in life and really does just want the best for you— that's just the kind of man he is.
Pete loves to make you laugh, because he thinks your smile is the most beautiful thing in the whole damn world, and he'll crack as many jokes around you as he can just to see it.
Dating you makes him proud, and he brags about you to everyone; his friends, strangers, and even to your waiter at the diner. Not much flusters him, but he loves when you are just as proud to be his, telling everyone you know about your man, calling him terms of endearment or writing him letters that he keeps in his dresser.
Pete McVries might be all talk— he might joke around, say things he doesn't mean, but when it comes to you, he says nothing but the truth.
BILLY STEBBINS — acts of service
Stebbins was never a relationship kind of guy before he met you.
Hell, he barely went out of his way to make friends, thinking that they were more distractions to his own goals rather than anything else.
And so when you show up, he's way more awkward about affection than he'd like to admit. It's not that he didn't want you to know how much he liked you, but he's never felt this way about anyone before.
Growing up, he watched his mom struggle to raise him on her own, and he learned early that the best way to show someone how much you care is to do things that make their life a little easier.
So he starts to notice all the little things you procrastinate, the chores you put off, and the things you leave broken because it's more stress than it's worth to repair.
Each time you see him, something's always fixed— your car radio that's been busted for months, the rusted-off latch on your fence gate, the leak in your roof that you've been too busy to hire someone to take a look at. He always acts like it's no big deal, that he needed to keep busy anyways, but you know better.
He'll do the little things too; tying your shoelaces when they come undone, carrying your groceries from your car to your kitchen, and putting his jacket over your shoulders when you get cold. Because in his eyes, thats the bare minimum.
Once you show him how to show his affection in other ways, too, he becomes a big fan of just the plain old I love you. He's not really the most eloquent guy, but that doesn't mean he won't make it clear how he feels.
He doesn't want much from you. Depending on other people has never been something that comes easy for him, and he doesn't want you breaking your back over grand gestures. So he prefers when you show your love through the little, quiet things, like rubbing his shoulders after a workout, talking to him while you play with his hair or just to lie together in his bed at the end of a long day.
It's in those moments he feels more sure about everything; his future, and his relationship with you. When he has you in his arms, he thinks, yeah, this works, and can't imagine a world where it doesn't.
GARY BARKOVITCH — physical touch
Barkovitch had never been good with words or with people.
He always seemed to say the wrong thing and push them away, and when you two started dating, he was so, so scared that he’d might accidentally do the same with you.
Love was such an unfamiliar thing, and he had finally found you, someone who accepts him as he is, and he could barely believe that someone like you actually liked him back.
He doesn't really know what he's doing, so at first, he just tries to copy you. However you return affection is the same way he tries to give it back— if you compliment him or tell him how much you love him, he tries to do the same, but it never comes out right; his timing would always be off, he'd say the wrong thing, or he'd stumble over his words.
The first time you told him 'I love you,' he said it back, but his voice cracked halfway through so he pretended it was a cough instead. He means it, he really does, he was just bad at saying it.
So from the start, he was much more comfortable with physical affection rather than telling you how he felt.
Once you show him that you don't mind, then he's always touching you; brushing his hand against yours until you hold it or sitting together with your knees touched. When you're in public, he likes to at least have a pinky hooked with yours just to feel your reassuring touch. It's partly for his own comfort, and partly to remind you of his love without having to say it outright.
After you've been together for a while and he realizes you're not going to leave just because he says the wrong thing sometimes or trips over his words, he starts to get more comfortable.
He'll be just as verbally affectionate, always reminding you how much he loves you or cracking stupid jokes just to get you to laugh. Not everybody gets his sense of humor, but you do, and honestly, if you're the only person who does, that's all he ever really gave a shit about anyway.
Still, his favorite way to give and show his love will always be physical; he still always leans into your touch, always has you hold him whenever you go to bed. That's where he feels safest, knowing his words won't fail him when he wants to show you how much he cares.
Hello! Can you please write smut hcs for all TLW boys, like what their kinks are, are they a dom or sub, experience, etc. ^_^
the long walk boys relationship + nsfw hcs (18+)
featuring: billy stebbins, gary barkovitch
word count: nearly 2.5k
warnings: fem reader, smut (ofc), some mildly toxic relationship behaviors (emotional avoidance, codepency, arguing, etc but it all gets resolved), angst with resolution and brief mentions of the major/tlw in stebbins' section
a/n: hope it's okay with you that I tacked on my relationship headcanons along with the nsfw!! i wanted to post them somewhere on my blog and I think they pair well here. I guess they're not as romantic as I intended, but one thing I love about the long walk is how complex and imperfect the characters are, and I wanted to reflect that in their dynamic with you. hope you all enjoy and barkovitch lovers I hope I did your boy justice. lmk ur thoughts/reqs its very motivating <3
also! I was going to do ray and pete as well but I think people are super interested in seeing stebbins and barkovitch content at the moment and I got a bit carried away with the length of these. but if anyone would like some for them as well I'm down for that too because boy am I not normal about pete
stebbins
RELATIONSHIP
I don’t think a relationship with Stebbins starts off easy.
Before meeting you, he didn’t have many friends, and he never sought out girlfriends either.
It wasn’t that he couldn’t— he’s a tall, good-looking guy who takes care of himself— but what was the point? Between the way he came up and his long-held plans to one day do The Walk, he learned to keep to himself. Independence was his armor.
It took a while for him to actually open up to you. You'd make a habit of sitting near him; on the curb while he worked on his car or going out of your way to run into him on his daily walks around your neighborhood. For weeks he'd just nod in acknowledgement, or maybe mutter a quiet greeting.
Then, one afternoon, when you showed up again, he squinted at you and said, "You followin' me or somethin'?"
It caught you off guard enough to elicit a laugh, and you got to see that grin of his for the first time before he looked away. After that, he started to pay you more attention— cracking sarcastic jokes, making friendly conversation on his walks, to eventually actually making time to hang out with each other. You were the only one he'd ever talked to first like that, you'd realize eventually.
At some point, it stopped feeling like just a friendship. Stebbins would always greet you with a hand on your waist or a kiss on the top of your head. He held the door open to his car for you and leaned over the passenger seat to buckle you in. He never drove without his hand on your thigh. He'd kiss you when he'd drop you off and always scared off any guys or old talking stages just by being a 6'2 guard dog hovering over your shoulder.
What frusturates you is how despite it all, he won't just call himself your boyfriend. He shows up for you in all the ways he can, because he is afraid of losing you, even though he doesn't want to admit it. He walks you home, hangs around you in every free moment, fixes what breaks and helps you with chores without you even asking. Anyone who knew the two of you assumed you were dating already.
It took a long time for you two to actually properly label onto your relationship due to his emotionally avoidant tendencies. It took months for things to come to a head, when you were finally sick of the half-answers, and him doing everything a boyfriend would do but never making it official.
Once he actually says it though, your relationship has a turnaround; he’s apologetic— “I’m sorry, baby, ‘m sorry I took so long, let’s just make up for lost time, okay?”
Next thing you know, he’s bringing you flowers, driving you to diners, taking you on dates in his car. Ever since he started calling you his (and even before, despite him never admitting it) he was already saving up to buy you a ring. It's total whiplash.
Eventually after you talk it out, things smooth over. And when it finally does, being with Stebbins feels like the American dream the Major and his regime promises. Love letters sprayed with perfume, city fair dates, makeouts after night drives.
Staunch believer in the sidewalk rule !!! he always carries your things and offers you his jacket. His girl comes first <3
His future is idealistic, but it's ultimately built around the idea of you. Of course, he prepares every day to be in perfect shape for The Walk in case his application ever gets selected, and he's confident that he'll win and build a good life for you two with the money. He can't wait to introduce you to his father as his future wife once he wins.
NSFW
Like I said before, sex wasn't really something he sought out before meeting you. If he ever had a hookup here or there it was a meaningless experience that he regrets, since he's never felt emotionally connected to anyone before you.
I wouldn't be surprised if he started hooking up with you before offically dating. In a way, it was a way for him to release all those pent-up emotions he had about you, his father, and his life. On the other hand, sometimes he'd pretend you were really together when he made love to you; that he was in some fantasy world where he could also let himself have you, really have you, the way he always wanted. He was always a lot sweeter in those times, calling you pretty and perfect and asking himself how did he ever get so lucky to find a lady like you?
In that same vein, he can get rough if you're okay with it. If you ever let him release his frusturations by fucking you, he'll always kiss you after and thank you for being so good to him.
He naturally takes on a dominant role with you; he prefers to feel in control of the situation, but as he opens up to you, he'll let you take more of the lead if you want it.
Doesn't feel right to him to recieve and to not give back. Some form of chivalry is baked into him— maybe because he tries to live up to the image of who he thought his father was. As much as he loves seeing you on his knees for him, it's not over until you let him return the favor.
He still eats you out as an apology. It's a nasty habit he picked up from when your relationship was still fresh and when you'd argue more often. Sure, it might be little unhealthy, but hey... you never seem to complain.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, baby," he apologizes again as he gathers you close, one hand on the back of your head as if he was holding you together. Your face was buried in his shoulder, which was wet with your tears. You don't even remember what you had been arguing about anymore.
"I don't wanna fight anymore," you whisper, and he nods desperately, wiping the wetness away from your eyes.
"I know, me neither, pretty girl," he says, "you know I hate it when you cry."
Then he's kissing your cheek again, pulling you tighter by your waist and peppering those messy kisses down your collarbone. "I know I was being a fuckin' idiot, just— lemme make it up to you."
It isn't long before you give in to him again like you always do, letting him trail down your waist with feather-light kisses. You don't stop him when he hikes up your skirt and his head dips between your thighs.
It makes the heat rise to your cheeks when he looks between you and your cunt, those pretty eyes of his being the only thing in your dark room catching the light of the moon from the bedroom window.
"You know, you always look so fuckin' perfect, even when you're mad at me," he breathes over your soft folds. His tongue worked in smooth, steadying strokes against your pretty pussy, tasting you between pleading promises to never argue again and curses about how fuckin' good you taste.
Stebbins is a man of routine, and eventually, fucking you becomes a part of that. When he doesn't get to see you for a few days, it throws his entire schedule off and makes him irate. Jerking off is his only solution even though it doesn't come close to the real thing. He'll try to call you over the landline for phone sex if he can, asking, "Can't you just talk me through it, baby?"
He can get pretty desperate if he's letting you ride him, but if you want to take the lead, he won't stop you, no matter how agonizingly slow you draw out his peak.
He hates talking about his jealousy. A part of him views it as a loss of discipline or a failure of emotion. It's a habit of his to fuck you as if he's reaffirming that you're his every time he sees a guy look at you when you're out together.
barkovitch
RELATIONSHIP
Barkovitch feels emotions very strongly, and it's only made worse by the fact that he's completely enamored by you.
I think his relationship with you borders on codependency at times; he finds it really difficult to sleep if you aren't by his side. He's pretty clingy even if he doesn't always show it in front of other people. When you two are alone, he always wants to hold your hand or for you to be touching him in some way, even if it's not sexual.
He can be pretty immature when he's jealous. He'll ignore you for the rest of the day just because the male cashier was flirting with you, even though it eats him up the entire time. It always ends the same; by the end of the day, he's begging at your front door to come to his home and sleep on his mattress with him so he can finally 'get some fuckin' rest.'
He isn't great at expressing himself, and sometimes he speaks impulsively or irationally. He gets defensive whenever you call him out on something, and he feels awful afterwards, apologizing profusely until you finally forgive him and hold him again.
Extremely afraid of losing you, but I think both this and his jealousy would get better with time and reassurance. Your constancy isn't something that he's used to.
In a way, he understands small things about you that nobody else does— "That's your thinking face," or how your leg always bounces when you're anxious. Sometimes, he picks up on your own emotions before you do.
Barkovitch is happy spending time with you just enjoying the little things in life; playing with his pet cat together, having breakfast on his porch and spending time at the lake by his home. He never really thought too far ahead into the future about things like marriage or having children. All he knows is that you make him happy, and he wants to spend the rest of his life with you just like this, even if all you two get to experience are the little things.
He loves to show you his love through handmade gifts like wood carvings with his pocket knife or flowers that remind him of you. He's never been so good with words, so he tries to prove his love to you in other ways.
NSFW
Literally had no experience before he met you.
Once you two started having sex, he quickly became addicted to it, and to you.
Honestly doesn’t really know what the hell he’s doing, but he makes up for it with an eagerness to please.
Messy kisser, but if you try to slow him down and teach him how to do it properly, he'll get really good at kissing you just how you like it.
You want him on top? He’ll do it for you happily. You want him under you? He’ll do that, too. I think it’ll take a while for him to actually start expressing sexual preferences if he ever does at all, and if he does, they wouldn’t be hard limits. He’s just in love with you and your body, and is happy with any way he gets it.
“Do you– hmh, like it more like this?” You ask between quiet moans, rolling your hips against his at a deeper angle.
You’d been like this for an hour, trying to gauge his reactions to all kinds of different movements and positions. Barkovitch was happy to be your test subject.
“That’s– ngh- that’s good. This one’s my favorite,” he breathes, his hands pulling you down against him to try and will you to go faster.
“...You’ve said that about the last three positions,” you smile. It’s no deterrence to him as he fucks up into you desperately, and one uncontrolled thrust happens to hit you in the perfect spot that has you shutting yourself up with a moan.
“I like ‘em all! I just– fuck, I just– I just love you.”
His stamina wouldn’t be that high, but how can you blame him? How can he last when he gets to fuck you? It would definitely get better with time, but he’s got such a high sex drive he’ll be ready again before you are.
Honestly a pervert. If he can't see you for even a day he's jerking off thinking about you, and he does steal things to remind himself of you while doing it. If your favorite perfume goes missing or you swear an article of clothing never turned back up from the wash, you can probably find it hidden in his room somewhere if you look.
Extremely vocal. He's always been a talker and that doesn't stop during sex. He doesn't really feel shame about it; he wants you to know how you make him feel.
Doesn’t really know how to pace himself to be honest… like you have to actively stop him from jackhammering into you and finishing too fast, but come on... he’s just excited.
Bites you and leaves hickeys. At first it was unintentional, but now he just does it every time, anywhere. Even if you tell him not to, he’ll beg you until you say yes (you always give in, anyways.)
Loves praise. He'd be too embarrassed if he was just getting himself off, even if he sometimes gets carried away, and any bit of reassurance that you like this as much as he does is like heaven to him.
Body worship is just a natural thing for Barkovitch. He's obsessed with you completely. Even when you're not having sex and you're just lying together in bed, he'll kiss you up and down and swear you're the most perfect thing he's ever seen.
Always, always wants to cum inside. Maybe it's just his instinct, but you're literally going to have to stop him from doing so if you don't want that because he will get carried away.
He loves every single part of you, but he can't help but have a consuming fixation with your thighs. If you ever wear skirts or shorts around him, he's taking the first chance you give him to fuck you. Sometimes you'll have to switch to pants for days while you wait for the hickeys he leaves all over your thighs to fade.
Wouldn't mind being tied up by you, if that's what you wanted. He likes it when you're in control, taking care of him. He'll even let you be a little mean or a bit rough as long as you comfort him after with cuddles and kisses (a requirement after sex, in his eyes).
Occasionally can be nasty and refuses to shower unless you join him <3
WE (yes WE) are all pioneering the 'x reader' fanbase for the long walk movie ;,)!!!
PLEASE send me some requests (headcanons, fluff, angst, smut) for all the characters I write for:
warnings: shameless smut, established relationship, semi-public (?) sex, swearing
au where everyone is friends (including barkovitch), reader is obsessed with his arms LMAO, you and your bf pete hook up in ray's bathroom <3
a/n: oml i nearly had to excuse myself from the theater after seeing pete’s biceps for the first time. side note i literally wrote this at 4:00 am so excuse any errors.
How did it always end up like this?
In one moment, you were just having a movie night at Ray’s with your boyfriend and his friends, and in the next, you were fucking on his friend’s bathroom sink.
The movie wasn’t even interesting— Ray had already started dozing off about thirty minutes in on the other couch and Art had stopped attention hours ago. You were more focused on Pete, his hands idly tracing circles on your legs that were draped over his lap.
And who could blame you? How could you think to focus on the screen when he had decided to wear that damn sleeveless top of his today?
He had to have done it on purpose. He knew how it drove you crazy, watching his muscles flex with just the small movements of his hands running across your legs. He’d been doing this absentmindedly since the last movie Ray had put on, and without realizing it, he had his poor girl all worked up for hours. You could only imagine how much better it’d be if his hands were taking care of you instead.
Hearing him call your name quietly broke you out of your trance.
“Got somethin’ on your mind?” He asks, innocently enough.
Nobody even turns around and notices when you part your legs slightly just for him— just enough for your skirt to ride up to reveal your panties soaked in your own arousal.
So maybe it was partly your fault.
Because you knew Pete would never say no to you, not ever.
And even now, who was he to refuse?
It didn’t take long for him to follow after you to the bathroom a few minutes after you excused yourself.
“Pete, we shouldn’t— mhhh!- be doing this here,” you try to protest, but your brain can barely even string words together with how good he’s fucking you.
“Come on, you know I gotta take care of you, baby,” he says, then pausing for a moment as he flips you around to face the bathroom mirror. “look how— shit, look how gorgeous my girl is.”
Your breath fogs up on the glass, and you can barely make yourself out in the hazy reflection. Your lipstick is smudged, your mascara is half rubbed off, and your hair is all messed up. Gorgeous isn’t exactly the word you’d describe yourself as at the moment, but you’re too fucked out to even care.
Before you can complain, his strong arm moves up from your waist to the valley of your breasts, supporting you from falling back down to the sink. The new angle is enough to have you whining from how damn good it feels. Your cunt flutters around him in a way that elicits a groan deep within his chest, one that you can feel from where it’s pressed against your back.
His arms. God, his arms...
You could feel yourself hurtling towards your peak just by watching the way they held your body so tightly against his in the mirror. His fingers dig into your hip just a little harder, and some part of you hopes it leaves a mark.
“You’re— unfair, you know that right? Yeah, you know I’m no match for you,” he says, his voice getting rougher as you feel his grip on you tense up. “looking at me like that… in front of Ray and the others.”
“Can’t— ah- help it,” you manage to say between moans.
“Baby, I know,” he grunts, “I know you needed me. I need you too, you know I fuckin’ do. Can’t go a day without thinking about this pussy.”
“Pete,” you plead, biting your lip to try and keep yourself quiet. “I’m so close, please—“
Three loud obtrusive knocks on the bathroom door have him immediately stilling and you nearly cry out from the sudden lack of movement. His hand is quick to cover your mouth before you gave yourself away.
“Pete, what the hell are you doing in there? I need to take a piss, it’s been like ten minutes,” Gary’s voice comes through muffled from the other side.
He’s still for a moment, and then whispers shhh against your ear and continues thrusting into you; slower now, but the returned sensation grants you some relief.
Pete’s hand doesn’t leave your mouth, and he clears his throat. “…Just five more minutes, Barkovitch.”
“Come on, man, it’s a fuckin’ emergency, I’m dying out here,” he groans.
“And what, you’re telling me that Ray don’t got any other bathrooms in this house?” Pete scoffs, and his pace picks up, as if he can fuck his annoyance away. The familiar pleasure starts to build in your abdomen again, and he feels it too, the way your cunt tightens around his cock like its done countless times before.
“Yes… no? I didn’t ask, man, he’s already fallen asleep. Don’t wanna be rude,” he says, and you can hear him bouncing on the heels of his feet impatiently. “Besides, isn’t your girlfriend in the other bathroom anyway?”
Truthfully, you were getting impatient too. You rut your hips back against his, chasing the climax you nearly had before. Pete’s fingers dig in harder into your hips to try and still you, but he can’t do much with one hand muffling your moans.
“Just— ugh- wait a second,” he grunts, and you feel it— the familiar way his breathing gets shallow and his rhythm gets hard and sloppy; the way he always gets when he’s about to cum. You arch your back by habit and he hisses, his cock hitting the perfect angle that has your body tightening up with pleasure.
You were close, and it just felt so, so good. You meet your boyfriend’s eyes in the mirror, pleadingly, asking without words for him to just give it to you.
And when you look at him like that, how could Pete say no?
All concerns of Barkovitch are disregarded when he moves you back against the wall and hikes your leg up, bringing a hand to your jaw and kissing you desperately, messily, his hands moving to hold your wrists in place.
"You want it that bad, huh?" he grunts. "Don't even care 'bout the noise we're making? That's okay. I got you, I got you," he repeats.
Each thrust is rough but mind-blowing, even when you bump against the bathroom wall you forget to be concerned about the noise you must be making— all your thoughts are replaced with Pete and the desperation to meet your own release.
"Please, I'm so close, Pete," you say, your nails digging into his back as if you could drag him any closer.
He bucks into you hard and you whine into his mouth as you cum, the tension that had been building up inside of you releasing all at once as you squeeze down on his cock.
“Fuck, that's it. You feel too good- I’m gonna cum,” he desperately whispers between kisses. His pace picks up and he has to break away from the kiss to catch his own breath as his hips slam against your own a final time with his own release, your leg wrapping around him to keep him close.
You nearly collapse with exhaustion but he catches you in his strong grip, breathing heavily with your forehead pressed against one another’s.
Outside of the door, it’s gone quiet. Whether Barkovitch had finally figured out what was going on or decided to try looking for another bathroom, you didn’t know, and couldn’t really find it in you to care.
You looked at each other in silent agreement.
This time, for sure, was the last time you’d be hooking up at Ray’s house.
Unfortunately, neither of you were too good at keeping promises.
if anyone is reading this and is interested in more TLW fics for the characters I write for (ray, pete, stebbins, barkovitch) please send them my way!
