Its been six months since you and ANAKIN SKYWALKER got married. Six months of laughter, love and happiness bubbled in your shared apartment. You've never felt so loved before, so cared about. Anakin really was a prince on a white horse, ready to burst in and swoop you off your misery. A real man dressed in gentleman's behavior who was completely, and utterly, head over heels for you.
There were lots of different things where he could show it - writing you a sweet poem, making you breakfast in bed, or...just making love to you while you were visiting his family...
The old twin bed in Anakin’s childhood bedroom is a relic from high school; wooden frame painted navy, posters of the Pyramids and the Acropolis still taped to the walls since ever since he moved out, his mother didn't dare to move anything from the old room. But to add to the old character of this room, which still remembered every scraped knee, every sleepless nights, and dreams of a day where you would be his, under an oath, was a mattress that kept squeaking every time you even dared to move an inch.
But now it was midnight, the house carrying silence; you both waited for late night just for Anakin could be on top of you in full missionary, buried deep, moving so slowly it felt like sweet, sweet torture.
“Shhh -- Rapunzel, careful,” he whispered, voice cracking with a breathless little giggle that vibrated against your neck. His messy curls kept tickling your cheek as he hide his flushed face in your neck. The bed gave another pathetic squeeeak when he rolled his hips forward again like he was trying to memorize every inch of you.
You bite your lip to stifle a moan, but it slipped out anyway - in a soft and shaky way. Anakin’s shoulders trembled with silent laughter, because apparently the whole situation is very funny. Every roll of his hips was dragging against that perfect spot inside you until your toes curled.
You wrap your legs around his waist and he lets out a quiet, broken whimper. “Baby-- don’t do that, the springs-”
squeak-squeak-squeak
Both of you froze, wide-eyed gazing at each other before grinning like idiots, listening for any sound from down the hall. When nothing happened, you grabbed a handful of his fully unbuttoned shirt to pull him into a kiss. His curl fell straight on your face, tickling your closed eyes as you slipped your tongue into his mouth.. Anakin’s chest rumbled with his own laughter as he pulled from your desperate lip movement just to make sure your face was pampered in little touches of his lips - your cheek, anywhere he could reach without shifting too much.
“I’ve waited my whole life for this and now I’m trying not to wake up my mom because i can't keep my hands off my sweet sweet wife.” He rocked into you again - agonizingly slow, grinding deep on every thrust. A tiny moan escaped you and he kissed you immediately to swallow it, tongue sliding against yours in a messy, desperate way that did not match his careful pace at all. His hand slid down to grip your thigh, thumb stroking small circles like he was still studying you, learning exactly what made you tremble.
“I love you,” he whispered right against your lips, voice barely audible. “So much. I can’t- I can’t believe you’re finally here. In my stupid old bed. With me.” Another slow, deep push, to which the bed protested again. Yet, you’re both too far gone to care. Your fingers threaded through his curls, tugging gently, and Anakin’s breath hitched into a quiet groan that he failed to fully muffle this time.
“You’re more beautiful than the Nefertiti bus… fuck, I love everything about you …” it really did not take long for borh of you to fall apart (quietly as possible as if it was possible), tangled and sweaty with mouthful of giggles, Anakin pulled the old quilt over you both and cuddled you against his chest like you were the most precious artifact in his collection.
❝we had our downs but we had way more ups,let's make love❞
pairing — firelord zuko! x fem!earthbender!reader
synopsis — who was surprised when you and zuko were the first in the gaang to get pregnant?
content — fem!reader, mature content (17+), suggestive themes, pregnancy, mention of sex, no actual plot really, indulgent fic, takes place seven years before the legend of aang (which takes placed 12 years after ATLA) so Zuko is 22 and Reader is 21, no use of yn, not proofread
author's note — I didn't watch the leaks yet just clips and if I do I'll still be watching the movie to support the animators
The Princess of the Fire Nation, though she often felt that, as the wife of the Fire Lord, she deserved a far grander title, sat before her vanity, studying her reflection. One by one, she had dismissed her maids, choosing instead to prepare for bed on her own. In truth, the new trending fragrance they all insisted on wearing had begun to make her nauseous.
Though, lately, everything seemed to make her sick.
“Aang sent a letter.”
She hadn’t even heard him enter.
Slowly, she turned to face her husband, a faint crease forming between her brows. “My love, you spend all day in council, and the first thing you do after not seeing me for hours is talk more about the council?” she teased lightly, though there was a hint of tiredness beneath it. She turned back to the mirror, picking up her hairbrush and dragging it gently through her hair.
“Well, love, this isn’t about the council. Technically,” he replied, stepping further into the room. “It’s about Aang. He needs our help.”
“Our help?” She turned again, confusion softening her features as she rose from the vanity. Her green satin nightgown draped elegantly over her figure, the gold stitching catching the candlelight with every movement. The most prominent change, however, was the gentle, undeniable curve of her stomach.
“You knocked me up, dummy,” she teased, a small smile tugging at her lips as she approached him. Her hands slid to his shoulders, then to the ties of his robes, beginning to loosen them with practiced ease. “Or did you forget already?”
He laughed softly, the sound low and fond, allowing her to help him out of his robes as the fabric slipped from his shoulders.
“How could I forget?” he murmured, turning toward her.
His gaze drifted over her slowly, appreciatively, before settling on the curve of her stomach. His hands followed, almost instinctively, coming to rest there, warm, steady, protective. His thumbs brushed gentle circles over the satin, as if he could feel something deeper beneath it.
“When you carry the future of the Fire Nation inside you?” he said quietly, his voice softening. “A little piece of me…”
His eyes lifted to meet hers, something tender and unguarded flickering there.
“And all of you.”
She hummed softly, rising onto her tiptoes as her arms slipped around his neck, drawing him down to her. Her lips met his in a gentle, fleeting kiss, soft, familiar, almost teasing.
But when she tried to pull away, he didn’t let her.
His hand tightened at her waist, the other still resting protectively against her stomach as he followed her retreat, capturing her lips again before the distance could grow. Even as her heels lowered back to the floor, he bent with her, closing the space she had tried to create.
This time the kiss deepened, slower, warmer, lingering in a way that stole the breath from her lungs. It wasn’t hurried, but it wasn’t soft either; it carried weight, intention, something unspoken between them.
His thumb brushed lightly against her side as he tilted his head, pressing closer, as if memorizing her. The world beyond them seemed to fade, the council, the letter, everything, leaving only the quiet crackle of candlelight and the steady rhythm of shared breath.
When he finally pulled back, it wasn’t far, just enough for their foreheads to rest together, his lips still ghosting over hers, reluctant to let her go.
“I can’t get you pregnant again, can I? Double pregnant,” he teased, a grin tugging at his lips.
She let out a soft laugh, shaking her head at him. “Oh, you’ve certainly tried,” she replied, her voice laced with amusement. Her hand lingered briefly against his chest before she stepped back, just enough to create space between them. “But don’t try again, I need this thing out of me first.” "I don't know if I love you referring to our child as a thing."
She separated from him fully then, turning slightly as if to busy herself, though she didn’t miss the way his shoulders subtly slumped at the loss of contact. The warmth between them lingered in the space she left behind, unspoken but felt.
Her fingers adjusted the sleeve of her gown absentmindedly, her expression softening for just a moment before she glanced back at him over her shoulder. There was still a hint of her earlier smile there, though now tempered with curiosity.
“Now,” she said, more gently this time, “tell me what Aang wants.”
"That can wait for the morning." He mumbled, his eyes never leaving her lips as he pulled her back into another kiss.
“A village?”
Zuko sighed, steadying Appa’s harness as he helped his wife climb aboard. “Why would he possibly want us to go to a random village?” And why would he say pack a coat? We're going to a mountain aren't we?" she huffed, gripping the edge before finally pulling herself over with a bit more effort than she liked. "I hate mountains."
He lingered below for a moment, looking up at her, concern etched into his features. “Are you sure it’s a good idea for you to go? You can stay—I’ll be back in a couple days.”
She leaned over the edge slightly, brows knitting. “Aang needs the second-best earthbender with him, Zuko. I’m not disabled—”
She winced mid-sentence, her hand instinctively going to her stomach before she turned toward Toph. “Sorry.”
Toph shrugged easily. “Hey, I’m just glad you finally admitted I’m the better earthbender.”
“I give you your flowers when they’re due,” she shot back with a small smile.
Toph grinned, but it slowly faltered, her head tilting slightly as if listening to something no one else could hear. "Your heart must be beating really fast." "Is it?" The princess quirked her head confused. "Why else am I hearing two heartbeats coming from you?”
Katara gasped, her hands flying together in delight. “Oh my gosh, you’re pregnant! I thought your coat was just oddly bulky but you're pregnant! Oh my Gosh!" she exclaimed, immediately rushing forward to wrap the Fire Princess in a tight hug. “I thought they were just rumors, because surely you and Zuko would’ve told us!”
The princess blinked, caught off guard, before her gaze slid over to her husband, who was just now hauling himself rather ungracefully into Appa’s saddle.
“Zuko,” she said slowly, one brow arching, “I thought you told them.”
Zuko froze mid-step, staring back at her blankly. “I thought you did.”
There was a beat.
“Oh my gosh.”
“I mean, it was only a matter of time,” Katara chimed in, smiling knowingly. “You two have never exactly been subtle. And Zuko practically insisted on marrying you the moment he could.”
Toph snorted, crossing her arms. “Yeah, honestly? I’m surprised it took this long. Thought for sure you’d have a whole lineup of heirs by now if Zuko could keep his hands to himself for more than, what? two minutes?”
Zuko nearly choked, his face flushing a deep, unmistakable red. “That’s— I—” He cleared his throat, straightening awkwardly as he avoided everyone’s eyes. “That’s not— we’re not—”
The princess, however, looked entirely unbothered.
In fact, she looked amused.
“Well,” she said lightly, smoothing a hand over her stomach as she glanced at him, “he does have a bit of a… lack of restraint.”
Zuko snapped his head toward her. “You’re not helping.”
Katara laughed, covering her mouth. “I mean, you can’t blame them. You’ve both been—” she hesitated, searching for a polite word before giving up, “—like that since the beginning.”
Toph grinned wider. “Please. ‘Like that’ is putting it nicely.”
“Toph,” Katara warned, though she was still smiling.
“What?” Toph shrugged. “I’m just saying—half the time, I didn’t even need my feet to know when they were in the same room. The tension alone was loud enough.”
The princess let out a quiet laugh, shaking her head. “You’re all incredibly annoying.”
Zuko groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Can we please focus on the actual reason we’re here?”
“Oh, no, no,” Toph continued, clearly enjoying herself. “You deserve this. All those nights you two kept everyone awake—”
“Okay, that’s enough,” the princess cut in quickly, though a smile tugged at her lips. She glanced at Zuko, amused. “He can’t get any redder. He’s about to turn into a tomato.”
Zuko let out a quiet, embarrassed huff, but didn’t argue, instead shifting closer and settling against her side, seeking some sense of refuge.
She softened slightly at that, her expression gentler as she let him.
“Let’s just go get Sokka,” he muttered, still avoiding everyone’s gaze.
The princess had shrugged off her coat minutes into the trip. They weren’t even close to Aang yet, and the extra weight had her uncomfortably warm, a light sheen of sweat clinging to her skin. The shifting air currents around Appa did little to help.
Katara, however, had not left her alone once.
The questions came one after another, gentle but relentless, curiosity shining in her eyes.
“How far along are you?”
“Five months,” she answered, offering a tired but polite smile.
“What’s the gender?”
“No clue.”
“Any baby names lined up?”
“We’re trying for something that blends earth and fire,” she said, glancing briefly at Zuko, “but nothing’s stuck yet.”
Katara brightened. “That’s so sweet—”
“Are you going to have more?”
The princess didn’t even hesitate. “Have you met my husband?”
Katara blinked, then laughed, covering her mouth.
Zuko, meanwhile, coughed into his fist, his ears burning all over again.
Through it all, his hand never left her, resting protectively over her stomach, thumb brushing slow, absent circles as if grounding himself in her presence. Every so often, his grip would tighten slightly whenever Appa shifted, like he could somehow steady both her and the child at once.
“Careful,” he murmured under his breath at one point, guiding her subtly as the saddle dipped.
“I’m fine,” she replied, though she didn’t pull away from him.
By the time the icy waters and familiar structures of the Southern Water Tribe came into view, the air had grown colder, sharper against their skin. Snow dusted the ground below, and the distant figures of Water Tribe members began to gather, pointing up at Appa’s descending form.
They didn’t have to search long.
Sokka was already striding across the snow toward them, boots crunching loudly with each step, his grin widening the second he took them in.
“Well, well,” he called, arms spreading like he was welcoming honored guests. “Look who finally decided to show up. Took you two long enough.”
His gaze flicked between them, lingering, calculating, before it dropped.
Then paused.
“…Whoa.”
Zuko stiffened immediately. “Don’t.”
But Sokka was already circling them, slow and deliberate, like he was inspecting something fascinating. “No way. No way. You’re serious?”
The princess raised a brow, unimpressed. “Very.”
Sokka let out a low whistle, dragging a hand down his face before pointing straight at Zuko. “I mean, I knew you two had issues with personal space, but I didn’t think you’d go and make it this… I don't even know the word for it. You two are freaks."
Zuko groaned, already regretting coming. “Sokka.”
“What?” Sokka shrugged, smirk growing. “You expect me to ignore this? This isn't even groundbreaking it's just expected from you both knowing you. This is, this is what happens when you two get even five minutes alone, isn’t it?”
Toph let out a quiet snort.
Sokka leaned in slightly, lowering his voice just enough to make it worse. “Actually, scratch that. Five minutes is probably generous.”
Zuko made a strangled noise. “Okay.”
Katara slapped a hand over her face. “Sokka—”
“No, no, I’m just connecting the dots,” he continued, clearly enjoying himself. “All those times you disappeared during meetings, all those ‘private discussions’ yeah, makes a lot more sense now.”
The princess tilted her head, completely unbothered. “You’re being very bold for someone standing this close to me.”
Sokka grinned. “I’m just impressed, honestly. You two had so much tension it was practically a natural disaster, and now—” he gestured vaguely toward her stomach, “—this is the aftermath. Surprised it took you this long."
Toph laughed outright at that.
Zuko looked like he wanted the ground to swallow him whole.
Sokka wasn’t done.
“I mean seriously,” he added, folding his arms, “if this is what happens when the Fire Lord gets a little too… distracted, I’m shocked there’s not a second one already on the way.”
Zuko choked. “That’s enough.”
“Hey, I’m congratulating you!” Sokka shot back. “Just saying, next time, maybe let people know before you two go off and—”
“Sokka.”
“—expand the royal family.”
Katara shoved him lightly. “You’re unbelievable.”
“But not wrong,” he corrected smoothly.
The princess let out a quiet laugh, shaking her head. “Unfortunately, he’s not entirely wrong.”
Zuko turned to her, betrayed. “You’re encouraging him.”
“We've been married for eleven months and I've been pregnant for five of them, you lack restraint Zuko” she stated bluntly, though her smile gave her away. He shook his head leaning close so only he could hear her. "Who suggested riding me in the throne ro-" "Okay hush now."
Sokka clapped his hands together once, satisfied. “Great. Now that we’ve established the Fire Lord has absolutely no self-control—”
“Sokka.”
“—can someone please tell me why Aang is dragging us to some random village?"
The teasing was warranted, deserved, even.
The Fire Nation had taken your father, your brother. Zuko’s redemption didn’t erase that. Not to you. He had hunted you, cornered you, forced you into survival more times than you could count. While the others learned to trust him, to laugh with him, to move on… you hadn’t. Not so easily.
So yeah, there had been tension.
A lot of it.
It just… hadn’t been resolved in a way anyone else approved of.
His lips brushed slowly along the inside of her thigh, unhurried, deliberate, testing, teasing. The touch alone was enough to pull a quiet, unwilling sound from her, her breath catching despite herself.
“Just do it already,” she muttered, more breath than voice, her fingers tightening against the sheets.
Zuko clicked his tongue softly, unfazed. Another kiss followed, closer this time, but still not quite where she wanted, where she needed.
“Not until you say please.”
Her head tipped back in frustration. “Why would I have to say please?” she shot back weakly. “You said you were atoning for everything your nation did. Consider this part of your apology.”
A quiet huff of amusement left him, warm against her skin. “I’ve been atoning for two months now,” he murmured, his voice low, almost thoughtful.
Another slow press of his lips, lingering.
“And yet,” he added, “every morning I wake up and you’ve already taken my portion of breakfast because, apparently, ‘murderers don’t deserve to eat.’”
She exhaled sharply, somewhere between a scoff and something softer. “Well, when the Fire Nation killed my family, I couldn’t afford breakfast—”
“I know.” His tone shifted immediately, the teasing giving way to something heavier, sincere. His hand stilled, grounding. “I know. And I’m sorry.”
There was a pause, the air between them tightening, thick with everything unsaid.
“I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to make up for it,” he continued quietly. “For what I did… for what I stood for.”
His placed a long kiss to her core, a soft moan (against her will) escaped her lips.
“Let me try,” he said, voice gentler now. “Even if it’s not enough.”
“I’m glad you all could make it, this village needs our help with—” Aang began, pulling back from Katara mid-sentence.
His eyes flicked across the group.
Paused.
Then widened.
“…Are—did—?”
He leaned toward Katara, lowering his voice into what he clearly thought was a whisper. “Am I allowed to ask people if they’ve gained weight?”
Katara’s eyes widened. “No, Aang. We’ve been over this.”
Aang nodded quickly. “Right, right. No asking.”
“…They’re pregnant,” she added quietly.
Aang blinked.
Then looked back at them.
Then back at Katara.
“…Zuko’s pregnant too?”
Toph snorted.
Sokka immediately burst out laughing. “Yeah, yeah, Fire Lord had a lot to do with it actually.”
Zuko’s face flushed instantly. “That’s not—”
“I’m pregnant, Aang,” the princess cut in, voice flat.
“Oh!” Aang straightened immediately, relief flooding his face. “Oh, that makes way more sense.”
There was a beat.
“…Congratulations!” he added, a little too late but entirely sincere.
Then his expression shifted, concern creeping in.
“Wait, are you sure you should be here?” he asked, glancing between her and Zuko. “I mean, with everything going on… I don’t want you getting hurt.”
Zuko immediately nodded. “Exactly.”
She sighed.
“I’m pregnant, not made of glass,” she said, crossing her arms lightly. “I can still help.”
Toph smirked. “Told you.”
Katara smiled gently. “We’ll keep an eye on you. Just in case.”
Sokka grinned. “Yeah, someone has to make sure Zuko doesn’t give himself an aneurysm trying to watch after the princess.”
Zuko shot him a glare.
Aang hesitated, then nodded. “Okay. I trust you. Just… be careful, alright?”
She gave a small, confident nod.
“Always.”
Aang clapped his hands together once, refocusing. “Right, so. The village has been dealing with a spirit. It’s been acting aggressively, and I think it’s tied to something in the mountain.”
The princess exhaled slowly. “…So you did drag us out here for a mountain.”
Aang winced. “Technically… yes.”
Zuko sighed. “Of course.”
Toph cracked her knuckles. “Good. I was getting bored.”
Sokka looked between them, grin already returning. “Alright, angry spirit, pregnant Fire-Earth Princess, and Zuko on edge. This should go great.”
She leaned slightly into Zuko’s side, her hand brushing his.
“Next time,” she murmured, “we ignore the letter and go to Ember Island."
He huffed softly. “…Agreed.”
love speaks! rushed and indulgent sorry i wish this was better but if i draft it it'll never get done. divider by @/cafekitsune
summary- you get into a fight with your parents over relationships, and luckily your secret boyfriend is there to help
warnings- little angst (fight with parents)
request status / open
hayden christensen masterlist
“sam! stop! my parents are gonna smell that!” you groaned, rushing over to open your window letting in the cool night air.
“calm down sweetheart, they won’t even notice.” sam still put out the weed he was smoking, despite his words.
sam was laying flat on his back on your bed, the pink blankets and pillows clashing against sam’s green band t-shirt and black jeans. he crawled into your window an hour ago and all he had done was flop back on your bed, complaining about his teachers.
it would be weird to people, the prissy popular cheerleader captain having a stoner ‘freak’ in her room. maybe that’s why you and sam kept it a secret, or maybe it was because your parents would never approve of him.
you joined sam on the bed, instead choosing to curl into his arms, which he opened for you. your skirt had slightly ridden up and your blouse already had a couple buttons popped open, due to sam’s earlier greeting towards you. sam’s hand trailed up your skirt, resting comfortably on the curve of your ass that your underwear didn’t cover.
you played with the little hole in his shirt, “you think we’ll ever tell anyone about us?”
sam’s silence at first gave away the fact he was taken aback by the question, “that depends princess, you want your parents banning you from seeing me?”
you rolled your eyes at the nickname sam used, the same one he first called you that winter day when you two first met. it was fall now, and he still insisted on calling you that, even with you two being together. “no, obviously i don’t. maybe they’ll like you.”
sam snorted at your hopefulness, turning to face you on his side now. “right, like that’ll happen.”
you also turned on your side, meeting his eyes. you pulled his face towards yours, connecting your lips instead of replying. you two sat slowly, never breaking the kiss. you crawled into his lap, letting his hands grab more at your ass now.
sam made his way down to your neck, kissing and sucking on sensitive areas. you quickly rid your blouse, letting the cool air hit your bra covered chest. right as sam’s hands traveled to the back of your bra, reaching for the clasp, a loud knock on your door sounded.
you practically jumped off sam, while your moms voice rang through the other side of the door, “honey, can you open up?”
“um, yeah mom, just give me a sec.” your voice was shaky as you looked towards sam, whose face had a resting smirk on it at your panic.
“asshole! this isn’t funny!” you whispered towards him before your eyes landed on the closet. you quickly grabbed sam’s arm, shoving him in the closet and shutting the door.
you yanked your bedroom door open, facing your mom. “oh honey, you could’ve put on a shirt, i didn’t know you were changing.”
you froze, completely forgetting about the fact you didn’t have a shirt on and that hickeys were actively forming on your neck. you reached for a hoodie, pulling it on.
your mom wandered into your room, sitting on the bed. she turned towards you, but then stopped, “whose hoodie is that?”
you looked down at the hoodie that you just put on and mentally cursed yourself for not checking what it was before throwing it on, the hoodie was a metallica hoodie, smelling exactly like sam, which was weed and a cologne he wore that always drove you nuts. “nobody’s mom, it’s, uh, it’s mine.”
your moms confusion grew, “why would you own that? you don’t even listen to that-”
you cut your mom off, “so what did you need mom?”
“right, your dad wants to know if you would like to join him on sunday night when he goes to the timbers?”
you groaned at the last name, jase timber. an asshole in your grade that your parents won’t stop bothering you about. “no mom, i don’t want to go. i already told you im not interested in jase.”
your moms face grew stern, “honey, you need to start taking jase seriously. he’s a star quarterback and straight A student.”
you let out a scoff, “there’s nothing to take seriously mom. we aren’t in a relationship and we aren’t going to be.”
your mom let out her own scoff now, “i don’t see why you two shouldn’t be. you twos lives fit perfectly. are you ever going to start taking dating seriously?”
you sighed at her question, you wished you could shout at her that you already had a boyfriend and he was better than jase could ever be. at the thought of sam you groaned, realizing he was hearing all this from the closet. “it’s a little hard to take dating seriously when you and dad would only approve of a straight A, football star, asshole.”
“language young lady!” your mom stood from your bed now, “me and your dad are trying to look out for you. give you what’s best.”
your frustration grew, “well maybe i don’t want someone like that mom! maybe i want someone who will see me for me and not just as a prissy head cheerleader, and someone who has a real personality and interests, someone who enjoys music and actually spending time with me, not someone who shows me off like an object.” tears were practically spilling out of your eyes by the time you finished, your frustration bubbling out.
your mom shook her head, “you’re going on sunday.”
with that she left and shut the door behind her with an extra amount of force needed. you sat on your bed, burying your head in your hands, completely forgetting about your boyfriend in the same room as you.
tears finally spilled out of you, leading to ugly hard sobs. you felt a dip in the bed before feeling arms wrap around you, and you getting pulled into sam’s lap. you looked up at him, tears coating your face. “i’m sorry, i don’t want to go on sunday, they’ll make me.”
you rarely saw soft sides of sam, but his expression completely changed into one of softness when looking at all your tears. “it’s okay princess, don’t worry about it, okay?” he wiped your tears that were still falling down your face. “if it makes you feel better, you look really pretty when crying.”
you let out a wet laugh at his stupid attempt to flirt right now, “you’re so dumb.” his fingers were still wiping softly at your face when you looked to meet his eyes, “i love you sam, really like i am completely fully in love with you.”
he kissed your head ever so softly, “i love you too princess.”
este speaks / i don’t care i loveeee cheerleader reader and sam
description: morticia and gomez addams if they survived the horrors of hawkins, got married, raised two equally dramatic children, and spent the rest of their lives being unapologetically obsessed with each other.
pairing: eddie x wife!reader
tags: eddie x reader, no y/n, husband!eddie munson, dad!eddie munson, morticia and gomez addams coded, tooth rotting fluff (they're obsessed with eachother), soulmates, edward jr & corvina, domestic bliss, slice of life, gothic romance, munson family, black cat x black cat, love as devotion and worship
TW: NSFW (18+) minors do not interact!!, PiV, unprotected, mushy fluff
WC:7.3k
A/N: requested by @pierrotandsam AGH HERE IT IS!!! I HOPE YOU LOOOOOVE IT :))) reblogs are a writer's best friend <3
I'm so obsessed with this. **I proofread as best as i could...i got three hours of sleep last night, so my brain is straight mush
Eddie still remembers the day he first laid eyes on you. Summer, going into his third senior year at Hawkins, you walked into Larry’s Auto Body Repair looking like something pulled from the pages of a half-burnt gothic novel left to rot in an attic trunk.
The heat outside had been miserable; thick, wet Indiana air that made grease cling to skin and tempers run short, but you arrived untouched by it all. Draped in black despite the July sun, lace sleeves swallowing your wrists, silver rings glinting like tiny knives beneath the fluorescent lights.
Your perfume smelled faintly of clove cigarettes, old paper, and rain. Long dark hair spilled down your back in soft waves, and your eyes, God, your eyes, looked mournful in the way stained glass saints did. Beautiful enough to make a man confess every awful thing he’s ever done, truth or not.
Eddie had nearly dropped an engine part directly on his foot.
You’d stepped into the garage like you belonged in another century entirely, gaze drifting slowly across the room with detached fascination, lingering on rusted tools and oil stains as if they were artifacts in a museum.
Then you smiled at him. Not sweet, not shy, but devastating. Like you already knew every terrible thing about him and adored him for it anyway. From that moment on, Eddie Munson was ruined.
Years later, the people of Hawkins still spoke about the two of you in hushed, bewildered voices. The Munsons of the Creel House. The strange family on the hill with wrought iron gates, tangled in dead vines and black roses that somehow bloomed year-round.
Children swore candlelight moved through the windows at impossible hours. Neighbors whispered about organ music drifting through storms and the silhouettes dancing behind curtains long after midnight.
The truth was far less sinister, mostly. You simply loved beautiful things that others were too frightened to appreciate. And Eddie loved you enough to follow you anywhere, even the old Creel House.
At first, he’d refused to even step onto the property. Too many memories. Too much blood soaked into those walls. Vecna. Chrissy. The Upside Down. Every rotten thing Hawkins tried desperately to bury lived in the bones of that house.
But then you’d walked through the front doors for the first time, black dress trailing over dusty hardwood, staring up at the massive chandelier with wonder glowing across your face like moonlight.
“Eddie,” you’d whispered softly, almost reverently. “It’s perfect.”
And that had been it. Because you looked at the house the same way you looked at him, not with fear, but affection. Like ruined things deserved devotion too. So he rebuilt it for you.
Every creaking staircase. Every shattered window. Every rotted inch of wallpaper. Together, you turned the graveyard of Victor Creel’s legacy into something warm, strange, and terribly romantic. A home, your home.
Corvina, your eldest daughter, drifted through the manor like a tiny phantom in velvet dresses, all solemn eyes and unnerving intelligence. She collected moth wings in glass jars and read Poe beneath thunderstorms while Eddie watched with equal parts pride and concern.
Meanwhile, Edward Jr, though everyone called him Teddy, was chaos incarnate. Wild curls, scraped knees, and his father’s crooked grin. The poor kid had inherited Eddie’s dramatic flair and your complete lack of fear, which meant most afternoons ended with him attempting something mildly catastrophic somewhere on the property.
Eddie had been hesitant about naming him after himself. Truthfully, he was terrified.
He remembered sitting beside you in bed while rain battered the windows, your newborn son asleep against your chest. Candlelight flickered gold across your skin as Eddie stared at the tiny little thing wearing his name.
“What if he ends up like me?” he’d asked quietly. You’d looked at him then with that same devastating softness you’d always reserved for his ugliest thoughts.
“My darling,” you murmured, brushing your fingers through his curls, “I should certainly hope so.”
And just like that, the fear dissolved. Because in your eyes, Eddie Munson had never been something to outgrow or overcome. He had always been something to cherish.
The Creel House came alive slowly in the mornings. Rain tapped softly against the tall windows that morning, the sky outside painted silver and gloomy in the way you adored most.
Eddie stood at the stove in silk pajama pants and a black robe hanging open over his tattooed chest, swaying dramatically to the music while making pancakes shaped vaguely like bats.
“Darling,” you called from your place at the kitchen table, long black sleeves draped elegantly around your coffee cup, “I do believe those are becoming progressively less edible.”
Eddie pressed a hand to his heart in mock offense. “Cruel. Wounded before breakfast.”
“You married me for my cruelty.”
“I married you because you looked at me like a Victorian widow cursed by the sea.”
You smiled over the rim of your mug. “And you looked like trouble wrapped in leather.”
“Mm,” Eddie hummed proudly. “Still do.”
Before you could respond, Eddie appeared beside your chair suddenly, dramatically dropping to one knee like a man overcome with passion. He took your hand delicately, pressing a kiss to your knuckles. Then another to your wrist. Then another just beneath your sleeve.
You laughed softly, tilting your head as his curls brushed your skin. “Edward Munson,” you murmured. “The children are awake.”
“Good,” he replied against your hand. “They should witness devotion.”
Right on cue, Corvina entered the kitchen carrying three books against her chest, long dark braid hanging over one shoulder. She glanced once at the scene before deadpanning:
“You’re disgusting.”
“Thank you, my dove,” you said warmly.
Corvina moved to pour herself coffee like she hadn’t witnessed anything unusual at all. Then came the sound of slower footsteps, Teddy.
Edward Jr. appeared in the doorway wearing his Hawkins High hoodie, backpack hanging off one shoulder, curls sticking up wildly like he’d been running nervous hands through them for an hour.
And immediately, both you and Eddie noticed the expression on his face, and Eddie straightened a little. “Whoa. What’s with the funeral look, Theodore?”
Teddy hesitated, then slowly held up a folded yellow slip of paper. Your brows lifted slightly while Corvina sipped her coffee with the detached calm of someone witnessing an execution.
“It’s a summons,” Teddy muttered.
Eddie blinked once, then dramatically pointed the spatula toward him. “What’d you do?”
“I didn’t do anything!”
“That’s exactly what I used to say,” Eddie nodded solemnly. “And I was usually innocent at least forty percent of the time.”
You extended your hand calmly. “May I see it, darling?”
Teddy crossed the kitchen and handed it over anxiously while Eddie abandoned the pancakes entirely to loom over your shoulder. His chin immediately dropped onto the top of your head while his arms wrapped around your shoulders from behind instinctively.
You unfolded the slip carefully:
REQUESTED PARENT CONFERENCE.
PRINCIPAL HIGGINS.
REGARDING: EDWARD MUNSON JR.
Eddie groaned immediately. “Jesus Christ. They started early this year.”
Teddy looked miserable. “Dad, I swear, I didn’t even do anything. It was those idiots from the basketball team—they kept messing with my stuff in gym, and one of them shoved me into a locker, and when I shoved him back, he started bleeding and—”
“Bleeding?” Corvina asked mildly.
“He ran into the trophy case!”
“Ah,” she nodded. “Natural selection.”
“Teddy,” you said softly, reaching for his hand. “Look at me.”
He did immediately.
And despite being nearly Eddie’s height now, despite the deepening voice and teenage awkwardness settling into his limbs, he still looked at you the same way he had as a child: like you could fix anything simply by speaking.
“You are not in trouble with us,” you assured gently.
Eddie nodded instantly. “Absolutely not.”
“But—”
“Nope.” Eddie waved him off. “Listen, kid, Hawkins High has been blaming Munsons for shit since before you were born. It’s practically a school tradition.”
Teddy huffed out a nervous laugh. You rose from your chair then, smoothing your hands over Eddie’s wrists where they rested around your waist. “We’ll attend the meeting.”
“Together,” Eddie added.
“And if your principal insists on being unreasonable,” you continued calmly, “your father does so enjoy making authority figures uncomfortable.”
Eddie grinned wickedly. “Baby, remember the vice principal in ‘89?”
You smiled faintly. “He looked moments from cardiac arrest.”
Teddy finally laughed properly at that, the tension melting from his shoulders almost instantly.
Without another word, Eddie reached over and grabbed one of the bat-shaped pancakes, shoving it onto Teddy’s plate. “Eat up, kid,” he said. “Nothing scarier than school administration on an empty stomach.”
Corvina glanced toward the stove. “Those are burnt.”
“They’re wonderful,” Eddie corrected.
You reached for his hand again, kissing his knuckles this time. “My talented husband,” you said softly.
Eddie practically preened under the affection, leaning down immediately to kiss you dramatically enough to make Corvina groan.
“Oh, my God.”
“Teddy,” Eddie said seriously against your mouth, “never settle for a love that doesn’t make your children physically ill.”
“Noted,” Teddy muttered through a mouthful of pancake.
By noon, rain had turned into a heavy mist that clung to Hawkins like a veil, which was the exact kind of weather you loved. The kind of weather Eddie insisted was “romantic as hell.”
The two of you walked through the halls of Hawkins High side by side like something entirely out of place amongst the fluorescent lighting and beige walls. Students slowed as you passed, conversations dipping into whispers almost immediately.
You floated through the hallway in a long black coat that brushed your calves, silver jewelry gleaming beneath the dim lights, while Eddie walked beside you in dark rings and leather, one hand firmly wrapped around yours, as if he physically couldn’t stand not touching you for more than a few seconds.
Which, truthfully, he couldn’t.
“Sweetheart,” Eddie murmured low enough only you could hear as you approached the office, “if Higgins pisses me off, are we thinking subtle psychological warfare or full public humiliation?”
You glanced at him calmly. “Let us see how brave he feels first.”
“God, I love when you threaten people poetically.”
The secretary barely looked up when you entered the office, though her expression tightened almost immediately at the sight of Eddie, still, after all these years. Eddie noticed too, squeezing your hand once before leaning casually against the counter.
“We’re here about Teddy,” he said.
The woman cleared her throat awkwardly. “Principal Higgins is expecting you.”
“Lucky him,” Eddie muttered.
You placed a gentle hand against his chest before he could continue, smoothing imaginary wrinkles from his jacket. “Behave, mon amour.”
Eddie looked down at you like you’d hung the moon itself in the sky. “For you?” he said softly. “Always.”
The secretary looked deeply uncomfortable. Good.
Principal Higgins’ office looked exactly the same as it had when Eddie sat in it at seventeen; stale coffee smell, ugly filing cabinets, school banners hanging crookedly on the walls.
Only now, Higgins himself had more gray hair and less patience. He didn’t stand when you entered. Instead, he leaned back slowly in his chair, eyes moving between you both with poorly concealed irritation.
“Mr. and Mrs. Munson.”
Eddie sat down across from him casually, slinging an arm immediately across the back of your chair. “Higgins,” he replied. “Still alive, huh?”
You rested one elegant hand atop Eddie’s knee beneath the desk, feeling him relax instantly under your touch.
Higgins ignored the comment. “Teddy was involved in an altercation yesterday afternoon.”
“Involved,” Eddie repeated. “Interesting wording.”
“He assaulted another student.”
“He defended himself,” you corrected smoothly.
Higgins finally looked directly at you then, expression tightening slightly. “And how exactly would you know that, Mrs. Munson?”
“Because, unlike this institution,” you replied calmly, “our son tells us the truth.”
Higgins folded his hands atop the desk. “Mrs. Munson, with all due respect, Edward Jr. has inherited certain… behavioral tendencies.”
There it was. Eddie’s jaw tightened instantly beneath the lazy posture he wore like armor. But you? You simply tilted your head slightly.
“What an unfortunate thing to say aloud,” you murmured.
Higgins shifted faintly. Eddie watched you carefully now, eyes practically sparkling because he knew that tone and knew it well. It was the same tone you used moments before verbally disemboweling someone.
“The Munson family,” Higgins continued carefully, “has had a difficult history with this school. Your husband, especially.”
Eddie gave a dry laugh. “Yeah, because this town treated me like I was carrying the plague.”
“You developed quite the reputation.”
“And your athletes didn’t?” Eddie shot back. “Interesting.”
“Eddie,” you said softly, not looking away from Higgins. You folded your hands neatly in your lap, expression serene enough to be unsettling.
“Our son,” you said carefully, “was cornered by three boys larger than him.”
Higgins opened his mouth, but you continued before he could speak.
“One shoved him into a locker repeatedly. Another destroyed his sketchbook. And when Theodore defended himself after being physically provoked, suddenly, he became the problem.”
Silence, and Higgins shifted again. You leaned forward slightly then, dark eyes steady on his.
“And now you sit before two former students who know exactly how Hawkins High operates and imply there is some sort of inherited defect in our child because his last name is Munson.”
Eddie looked dangerously proud beside you.
Higgins cleared his throat. “That isn’t what I meant.”
“No?” you asked gently. “Then perhaps choose your words more carefully.”
The office went quiet except for the rain tapping softly against the windows. Eddie finally leaned forward himself, rings clinking against the desk.
“Look,” he said flatly, “I know exactly what this place thinks about me. Fine. Whatever. But you do not get to stick that shit onto my son because some meathead couldn’t keep his hands to himself.”
Higgins sighed heavily. “No one is suspending Teddy.”
“Very generous,” Corvina’s voice drawled suddenly from the doorway.
All three of you turned. Corvina stood there holding a hall pass and looking deeply unimpressed.
“She followed us?” Higgins asked incredulously.
“She’s observant,” you replied.
“And nosy,” Eddie added proudly.
Corvina stepped inside without invitation. “Also, for the record, Tyler Bennett admitted in chemistry that he started it because Teddy wouldn’t let them make fun of that freshman girl.”
Eddie blinked. Then slowly turned toward his son’s principal with the most insufferably smug expression imaginable. “Huh,” he said. “Would you look at that?”
You reached over then, brushing your fingers lovingly along Eddie’s jaw.
“My darling,” you sighed softly. “It appears our son inherited your unfortunate tendency toward heroics.”
Eddie practically melted into your hand. “Baby,” he whispered dramatically, grabbing your wrist to kiss your palm, “you say the sexiest things to me.”
Corvina stood near the doorway with her arms crossed, entirely too pleased with herself. Eddie lounged back in his chair again, one boot hooked over his knee while he admired you with open, ridiculous affection.
Meanwhile, you remained perfectly composed, which somehow made you infinitely more terrifying.
“Well,” Higgins said stiffly after a long silence, “I believe this matter can be considered resolved.”
“How fortunate,” you replied smoothly.
Eddie snorted under his breath, and Higgins ignored him. “I’ll speak with the boys involved.”
“You should,” you said. “Especially if the school wishes to maintain the illusion of fairness.”
The principal’s jaw tightened faintly. Then, as though remembering something unpleasant, his eyes flicked briefly toward a framed flyer hanging beside his desk.
Hawkins High Arts Expansion Fund: Sponsored by the Munson Mortuary.
Eddie noticed immediately, as did you. A slow smile touched your lips. “You know,” you mused softly, rising from your chair, “Edward and I have always cared deeply about the arts.”
Eddie stood the second you did, naturally gravitating toward your side like a shadow stitched to your heels.
“The theater department,” you continued thoughtfully, smoothing the sleeve of your coat, “the music programs, student scholarships…”
Higgins straightened slightly.
“Hell,” Eddie added casually, “the new ceramics kiln was us.”
You turned your attention back to Higgins, expression warm enough to unsettle.
“It would simply devastate us,” you said gently, “if the environment here became hostile enough that we no longer felt comfortable continuing such generosity.”
Higgins cleared his throat quickly. “I’m sure that won’t be necessary.”
“No,” you agreed pleasantly. “I imagine it won’t.”
Eddie grinned beside you like the devil himself. God, he loved you. Loved the way you could flay someone alive without ever raising your voice. Loved the way people underestimated your softness right until the moment they realized it had teeth.
You reached for his hand, and he took it instantly.
“Well,” Eddie sighed dramatically, “this has been deeply irritating.”
As the four of you started toward the office door, Higgins spoke again. “Mrs. Munson.”
You paused, turning slightly. “I assure you,” he said carefully, “Theodore will be treated fairly.”
You held his gaze for a long moment, then smiled faintly. “I should hope so.”
And with that, you left. The halls quieted again as your family walked through them together.
Eddie’s hand remained clasped tightly with yours while Corvina drifted ahead in a sea of black fabric, entirely unbothered by the stares surrounding her.
The second the front doors shut behind you, Eddie turned toward you with outright admiration burning in his expression.
“Jesus Christ,” he breathed. “Marry me again.”
You looked at him calmly. “I would a thousand times.”
Candles flickered low throughout the house, golden light dancing against dark wallpaper while thunder rolled softly somewhere in the distance.
Dinner had long since ended, dishes abandoned in favor of the far more important activity of Eddie dramatically sprawled across the velvet chaise in the sitting room with his head in your lap.
“Darling,” he sighed as you lazily combed your fingers through his curls, “if I die right now, know that I died fulfilled.”
“You’re forty years old,” Corvina deadpanned from the armchair across the room. “Not a dying Victorian poet.”
Eddie pointed accusingly toward her without lifting his head. “Your mother encourages this cruelty.”
You smiled softly down at him. “I find it endearing.”
“That’s because you worship me.”
“Correct.”
Corvina physically recoiled. “Can you two act normal for ten minutes?”
“No,” both of you answered immediately.
Teddy snorted from the floor where he sat building something suspiciously dangerous out of spare radio parts. Then, the doorbell rang, and everyone paused. Corvina moved first, way too fast for her character.
You noticed immediately. Eddie noticed immediately. Teddy noticed immediately. The three of you slowly turned toward her as she stood abruptly from the chair, smoothing nonexistent wrinkles from her black skirt.
“…Interesting,” you murmured.
Corvina narrowed her eyes. “Don’t.”
Eddie sat up slowly now, a grin already forming. “Oh, my God.”
“It’s probably nothing.”
“Corvina Lucille Munson,” Teddy gasped dramatically. “Are you nervous?”
“I will kill you.”
The bell rang again. Corvina moved toward the front door with all the rigid dignity of someone approaching their execution.
You and Eddie exchanged a look. Then, silently, both rose from your seats to follow.
The front door creaked open, and standing beneath the porch light was perhaps the least expected person imaginable. A boy. Tall, clean-cut, nervous beyond belief. Bright blue varsity jacket. Hair neatly combed. Holding flowers.
The poor thing looked like he’d wandered into the wrong horror movie. Corvina stared at him; the boy stared at Corvina. Then his eyes slowly lifted, and landed directly on you and Eddie looming behind her like two beautifully dressed vampires awaiting explanation.
His face drained completely of color. Eddie blinked once, then immediately leaned toward you and whispered with genuine awe:
“He looks like he says ‘yes ma’am’ unironically.”
You nodded thoughtfully. “How refreshing.”
“Mom,” Corvina warned.
The boy swallowed hard. “H-hi, Mr. and Mrs. Munson.”
Eddie lit up instantly. “Oh, I like him.”
Corvina closed her eyes briefly like she regretted ever being born. You stepped forward gracefully, gaze drifting over the bouquet in his trembling hands.
“How lovely,” you said softly. “Funeral lilies.”
“They’re her favorite,” he blurted.
Then you looked at Corvina slowly, while Corvina looked horrified. Eddie looked seconds from losing his mind entirely.
“Teddy,” he whispered sharply. “Your sister has a boyfriend.”
“I KNEW IT.”
“He is not my boyfriend,” Corvina snapped immediately. “He’s an experiment.”
The boy blinked. “An… experiment?”
“You’re studying social dynamics?” you guessed politely.
“Yes,” Corvina said quickly.
Eddie crossed his arms. “By holding hands with the quarterback?”
“Second-string quarterback,” Teddy corrected.
Everyone looked at the boy while he awkwardly raised one hand. “We lost regionals.”
Eddie burst out laughing. “Oh my God, sweetheart,” he wheezed to you. “She brought home a jock.”
“He’s not a jock.”
The boy tried to help. “I’m also on the debate team.”
You gasped softly. “How multifaceted.”
Corvina looked moments from throwing herself from the staircase.
Eddie grinned wickedly at her. “Baby bat’s got a crush.”
“I do not.”
“He knows your favorite flowers,” Teddy sang obnoxiously.
“I hate this family.”
The boy, still somehow standing there despite the obvious psychological warfare occurring around him, looked toward Corvina carefully. And to everyone’s shock, his expression softened.
“She talks about you guys a lot, actually.”
Corvina froze.
Eddie immediately clutched his chest dramatically. “Oh, my.”
“Dad.”
“She told me,” the boy continued nervously, “that her parents are… intense, but very in love.”
You smiled faintly. Corvina looked like she wanted the floorboards to consume her.
“And,” he added carefully, “that her dad still leaves dead roses on her mom’s pillow every morning.”
Eddie looked at you instantly, utterly smitten. “Baby,” he whispered emotionally, “our love is inspiring the youth.”
You reached up, smoothing your hand against his jaw affectionately. “We are deeply romantic.”
“You’re deeply weird,” Teddy corrected.
“Thank you.”
Corvina groaned. “Can we please go before they start kissing again?”
Too late. Eddie had already grabbed your hand dramatically.
“You wound me, little raven,” he said, pressing a theatrical kiss against your knuckles. “Your mother’s beauty simply overwhelms me.”
The boy stared. Teddy stared. Corvina pinched the bridge of her nose. And you, you simply looked at your husband with soft, endless devotion while thunder echoed gently overhead.
“Oh, mon amour,” you sighed lovingly. “You are still the most handsome thing this house has ever held.”
Eddie nearly died on the spot.
The house felt different when the children were gone. Corvina had vanished off to some poetry reading with her painfully polite almost-boyfriend, while Teddy was staying overnight at a friend’s house after aggressively insisting he was “old enough to survive one night without parental supervision.”
Eddie had looked personally offended by the statement.
Now the evening rain had finally stopped, leaving the world outside soaked silver beneath the moonlight.
You stood in front of the bedroom mirror, fastening a pair of silver earrings, when Eddie appeared in the doorway, already staring at you like a man deeply unwell. His dark button-up hung half-open, curls still damp from the shower, rings glinting in the candlelight.
But his expression, my God. After all these years, he still looked at you like the first breath after drowning.
“Well,” he murmured, leaning against the doorframe, “there goes every coherent thought I’ve ever had.”
You smiled softly at his reflection. “You say that every time I wear black.”
“Because every time you wear black, I fall in love with you all over again.”
“You’re very dramatic.”
“You’re very beautiful. We all cope differently.” You laughed quietly as he crossed the room toward you.
The second he reached you, his hands found your waist instinctively, warm and familiar through the fabric of your dress. He buried his face briefly against your neck with a content sigh like “this—this right here—was the safest place in the universe.”
“Close your eyes,” he murmured.
You raised a brow. “Edward.”
“Please?”
Amused, you obeyed. You heard him moving around the room for a moment before something soft brushed across your palms.
Flowers.
When you opened your eyes again, Eddie stood before you holding a bouquet of black dahlias and dead roses tied together with velvet ribbon, just like your first date.
“Oh,” you whispered.
Eddie suddenly looked shy beneath all the tattoos and bravado. “I know they’re a little wilted, but Gareth’s florist cousin said—”
“They’re perfect.”
The relief on his face was immediate. You reached up carefully, fingertips brushing his cheek while he melted into your touch on instinct.
“Do you remember,” you asked softly, “what you said to me the night you gave me flowers for the first time?”
Eddie grinned a little. “Yeah.” He leaned closer. “‘Most girls want roses. You looked like you’d appreciate something half-dead.’”
“And I nearly married you on the spot.”
“You definitely wanted me carnally.”
You laughed again and kissed him gently. Eddie hummed happily against your mouth, already chasing after another kiss before you’d fully pulled away.
“Come on,” he whispered. “I’ve got a surprise.”
The graveyard sat at the edge of Hawkins beneath enormous twisted trees, moonlight filtering silver across old headstones and damp grass. Most people found it unsettling, but you found it beautiful, especially tonight.
Your breath caught softly as Eddie led you through the cemetery gates hand in hand.
Because there, beneath the crooked oak tree where he’d taken you all those years ago, sat an entire picnic laid out atop black blankets and velvet pillows. Candles flickered inside lanterns. An old radio played something metal, low enough to blend with the wind.
Your favorite wine rested beside a basket overflowing with chocolate-covered strawberries and homemade pastries, which Eddie had very obviously burnt slightly. And in the center, a vase of black dahlias. Eddie rubbed the back of his neck suddenly, almost bashful. “I know it’s kinda stupid—”
“It isn’t.”
Your voice was so soft that it stopped him immediately. He watched as you stepped slowly into the little space he’d created, moonlight catching the emotion shimmering across your face.
“You remembered everything,” you whispered.
“Course I did.”
Eddie moved closer then, taking your hands carefully. “This is where I fell in love with you,” he admitted quietly. “Figured it deserved revisiting.”
Your chest ached. Because despite all his theatrics, despite the flirting and dramatics and endless teasing, Eddie loved with terrifying sincerity, always had.
You touched his face gently. “You never told me you loved me that night.”
“No,” he said softly. “But I knew.”
The wind moved through the cemetery trees around you, carrying the scent of rain and earth and candle smoke. Then Eddie suddenly dropped dramatically onto the blanket.
“Now,” he announced, patting the spot beside him, “come seduce your husband under the moonlight.”
You smiled helplessly and settled beside him. Immediately, he pulled you into his lap like gravity itself demanded it. You curled against him easily, fingers playing with the rings on his hand while his chin rested atop your shoulder.
For a while, neither of you spoke. You simply existed there together beneath the stars, wrapped in candlelight and old music and decades worth of devotion.
Eventually, Eddie pressed a slow kiss against your neck. “You know,” he murmured, “I was so scared to bring you here on our first date.”
You turned slightly. “You were?”
“Terrified.” He laughed softly against your skin. “Wayne told me if I took a girl to a graveyard, she’d think I was either a serial killer or possessed.”
“And instead?”
“You told me it was the most romantic thing anyone had ever done for you.”
“It still is.”
Eddie looked at you then. And suddenly he was twenty again; grease stains on his hands, heart beating too fast, staring at the most hauntingly beautiful girl he’d ever seen while wondering how someone so lovely could possibly want him back.
Only now, he knew, because you’d spent decades proving it.
His hand slid carefully against your cheek. “My sweet girl,” he whispered.
You kissed him before he could say anything else. Slow and loving, the kind of kiss built from years and years of choosing each other over and over again. Somewhere in the distance, thunder rolled softly again.
Eddie smiled against your mouth. “Think the kids are behaving themselves?”
You smoothed your fingers through his curls lazily. “Not our concern tonight.”
“God,” he sighed happily, pulling you impossibly closer, “I adore you.”
“Eddie,” you whispered, tilting your head as his lips brushed the side of your neck. “You’ve outdone yourself, mon amour.”
He hummed against your skin, the sound vibrating through you. “Only the best for you.”
You laughed softly, and the sound made him tighten his hold, one hand sliding reverently down your side, tracing the black silk of your dress.
Eddie loved pleasing you more than anything, maybe even more than breathing. He lived for the way your breath would hitch when he touched you just right, for the way you looked at him like he was the only man in any world worth having.
His fingers found the hem of your dress and slipped beneath it, warm palm gliding up your thigh. “Let me worship you here,” he murmured, voice low and rough with devotion.
You turned in his lap, straddling him, your long dark hair falling around you both like a curtain. The cemetery was empty, the night yours alone. You cupped his face, thumbs brushing his cheeks, silver rings cool against his skin.
“Then worship me, Edward,” you said softly, the command wrapped in velvet.
Eddie’s eyes darkened with hunger and endless love. He kissed you deeply, almost reverently at first, then with growing heat as your tongues met. His hands roamed, pushing your dress up around your hips. He groaned when he realized you’d worn nothing beneath it.
“Fuuuck me,” he breathed against your mouth, a crooked, adoring grin breaking through.
“Oh my love, I plan to.”
He laughed, the sound rich and warm, then lowered you gently onto your back atop the velvet pillows. The cool night air kissed your skin as he peeled the dress from your body, kissing every inch he revealed. Your collarbones, the swell of your breasts, the soft plane of your stomach. When he reached the apex of your thighs, he looked up at you with pure reverence.
He settled between your legs, curls brushing your inner thighs as he pressed open-mouthed kisses along your skin. His tongue found your center with devastating patience; slow, worshipful strokes that had your fingers tightening in his hair.
He moaned into you like you were the finest thing he’d ever tasted, savoring every gasp and whisper of his name that left your lips.
“That’s it, sweetheart,” he murmured against your slick flesh, voice thick. “Let me hear how good I make you feel.”
Your back arched as pleasure coiled tight inside you, and Eddie watched it all unfold like a man witnessing divinity. When you came undone beneath his tongue, thighs trembling around his head, he held you through it, kissing you gently until the waves subsided.
Only then did he rise, shedding his shirt and pants with reverent haste. His cock was hard and aching for you, but he took his time, crawling over you, kissing you so deeply you tasted yourself on his tongue.
“I love you,” he whispered against your lips, lining himself up. “More than life. More than death. More than anything in this fucking universe.”
You wrapped your legs around his waist and pulled him inside you with one smooth thrust. Both of you moaned at the perfect fit; years together, and it still felt like coming home.
Eddie moved with slow, deep rolls of his hips, savoring every clench of your walls around him. His forehead pressed to yours, curls falling around your faces as he gazed into your eyes.
“Look at me while I fuck you, baby,” he breathed, devotion dripping from every word. “Want to see those saintly eyes when you come on my cock again.”
The cemetery felt alive around you; the wind whispering through the trees, the distant hoot of an owl, the scent of earth and night-blooming flowers mixing with sweat and sex. Eddie’s pace gradually quickened, one hand sliding between you to circle your clit while the other pinned your wrist gently above your head.
You came again with a soft, broken cry of his name, pulling him over the edge with you. He buried himself deep, spilling inside you with a guttural groan, hips stuttering as pleasure wrecked him. Even then, he kept moving; lazy, loving thrusts to draw it out, kissing you through every aftershock.
Afterward, he collapsed beside you and immediately pulled you into his arms, tucking your head beneath his chin. His fingers traced lazy patterns along your spine while your leg draped over his hip.
Eddie pressed a kiss to your hair, voice hoarse with satisfaction. “I’d desecrate every grave in Hawkins if it meant making you feel like that.”
You smiled against his chest, fingertips playing with the silver strands beginning to thread through his dark curls. “If we keep this up, Corvina and Teddy may have a sibling.”
“Would that be so bad? Another mini-Munson running around, raising hell?”
You rolled your eyes lovingly, planting a few peppered kisses along his chest and jaw. “Poor Principal Higgins wouldn’t know what to do with himself with a third Munson.”
Dinner in the Creel-Munson House was rarely quiet. Not because anyone particularly tried to be loud, it was simply impossible for four Munsons to exist in the same room without the atmosphere becoming theatrical.
Thunder groaned outside while candlelight flickered across the dining room, illuminating velvet curtains, silver dishes, and the massive candelabra Teddy insisted made “every meal feel like a vampire intervention.”
Tonight, Eddie had been suspiciously smug since five o’clock, you noticed immediately. Corvina noticed immediately. Teddy noticed immediately. Which meant all three of you spent most of dinner staring at him with increasing suspicion while he fought a grin behind his wine glass.
Finally, Teddy pointed his fork accusingly. “You’re hiding something.”
Eddie gasped dramatically. “What a horrible accusation.”
“You’ve been smirking for an hour,” Corvina added.
“You also called the garlic bread ‘historic,’” Teddy said. “That means something’s wrong.”
You smiled faintly from your seat at the head of the table. “Darling,” you said gently to Eddie, “are you planning a crime?”
Eddie looked delighted by the question. “No,” he answered proudly. “Something better.”
Then, with all the ceremony of a man revealing the crown jewels, Eddie reached into his jacket and slapped four tickets dramatically onto the table. Silence.
Teddy squinted. Then his eyes widened so violently you thought they might leave his skull.
“No fucking way.”
“Language,” you corrected softly.
“No FUCKING way.”
Corvina leaned forward slightly now, dark eyes narrowing in interest. Eddie sat back in his chair with unbearable smugness. “Iron Maiden,” he announced grandly. “Indianapolis. Front section.”
Teddy SHRIEKED, like actually shrieked. The sound echoed through the dining room while Eddie burst into laughter.
“Oh my God,” Teddy gasped, grabbing the tickets with trembling hands. “Dad—Dad, are you serious?!”
“Your old man still has connections, baby.”
Teddy launched out of his chair instantly.
You sighed knowingly. “Brace yourself, mon amour.”
A second later, Teddy practically tackled Eddie backward in a hug. “There he is,” Eddie wheezed dramatically as Teddy nearly crushed him. “My son. My flesh and blood.”
“You are the coolest person alive.”
“I know.”
Corvina, meanwhile, carefully picked up one of the tickets with much more restraint. But you noticed the tiny upward twitch at the corner of her mouth immediately.
“Dickinson is still performing?” she asked calmly.
Eddie clutched his chest. “That sounded almost excited.”
“It wasn’t.”
“She got the Munson concert gene,” Teddy informed you loudly.
“She absolutely did,” Eddie whispered emotionally. Corvina rolled her eyes, though there was the faintest flush creeping into her cheeks now. You watched your family fondly from your chair, chin resting against your hand.
This. This was your favorite thing.
Eddie glowing with happiness while the children inherited every loud, passionate, ridiculous piece of him without even realizing it. Teddy flopped back into his chair, grinning wildly.
“This is literally the greatest day of my life.”
Eddie pointed at him immediately. “That’s exactly what I said when your mother kissed me the first time.”
“You say that about everything Mom does,” Corvina muttered.
“Because your mother is extraordinary.”
You reached over and touched his hand gently, as Eddie looked at you like he’d been shot directly through the heart.
Then, Corvina cleared her throat, causing everyone to look at her immediately.
“…What,” she said flatly.
Eddie narrowed his eyes. “You’re about to ask for something.”
“I’m not.”
“You did the voice.”
Teddy gasped dramatically. “She DID do the voice.”
Corvina looked deeply regretful. “I hate all of you.”
You smiled softly. “What is it, little raven?”
A pause. Then, with visible reluctance: “…Could I possibly have one additional ticket?”
The room went silent, and Eddie blinked once. Then slowly lowered his wine glass.
“…For who?”
Corvina stared at her plate. “No one.”
“Corvina.”
Another pause.
“…Damien.”
Eddie’s entire body reacted as if he’d just been informed the government had finally collapsed.
“THE BOYFRIEND?”
“He is not—”
“The assistant quarterback?!” Teddy shouted.
“THE DEBATE CLUB ONE?” Eddie cried simultaneously.
Corvina groaned into her hands. You, meanwhile, were trying very hard not to smile.
“He likes Iron Maiden,” Corvina muttered.
Eddie looked genuinely betrayed. “The clean-cut child likes Maiden?”
“He listens to metal with me.”
Eddie stared at her for a long moment. Then suddenly leaned back in his chair, placing a hand dramatically over his heart. “Oh, my God.”
“What?”
“She likes him.”
“I do not.”
“She’s sharing music with him,” Eddie whispered hoarsely to you. “Baby, that’s intimate.”
Teddy looked horrified. “That’s like… sacred.”
“Exactly.”
Corvina looked ready to walk into traffic. You finally spoke, voice warm with amusement.
“Perhaps,” you said carefully, “she simply enjoys his company.”
Corvina nodded quickly. “Exactly.”
Eddie narrowed his eyes immediately. “Have you held hands?”
“Dad.”
“HAVE you?”
“No.” Too fast.
Teddy slammed both hands on the table. “THAT WAS A LIE.”
Corvina pointed at him. “You are dead to me.”
Eddie suddenly looked emotional again. “Oh, sweetheart,” he sighed dramatically, “your first love.”
“It’s not love!”
You stood then, gliding around the table toward your daughter. Corvina visibly braced herself for teasing. Instead, you simply smoothed a strand of dark hair behind her ear gently.
And very softly, you said: “If someone makes our little raven smile enough to frighten her this badly… we should like to know him.”
Corvina froze. Because despite all the drama and teasing, your family loved hard. Openly, and without shame, just like Eddie always had.
The house had long since gone quiet. Somewhere downstairs, the grandfather clock groaned past midnight while rain tapped softly against the windows of your bedroom. Eddie lay sprawled across your chest like an oversized cat, one arm wrapped tightly around your waist while you lazily played with his curls.
This had always been his favorite place to exist, right here, with you.
Even after all these years, he still sought you out instinctively. Every night, somehow ended the same way: his head in your lap, or tucked against your chest, or buried into your neck while he mumbled half-asleep nonsense against your skin. Tonight was no different.
“You know,” Eddie murmured sleepily, eyes closed, “I think Corvina gets scarier every day.”
You smiled softly, carefully winding one silver-threaded curl around your finger. “She is your daughter.”
“Exactly why I’m concerned.”
“You cried when she said she held his hand.”
“I did not cry.”
“You absolutely did.”
Eddie cracked one eye open. “I became emotional.”
“You gasped loud enough to frighten Teddy.”
“That was fatherly grief.”
Your laugh came soft and quiet in the dark. God, he loved that sound.
Eddie tilted his head slightly against you just to hear it again. Then your fingers paused suddenly in his curls, a tiny thing, barely noticeable. But Eddie felt it immediately.
“What?” he murmured.
You said nothing at first. Instead, your fingers carefully separated one curl from the rest, then another. Eddie finally looked up slightly, finding your expression softened by something achingly tender.
“My darling,” you whispered.
“Hm?”
You gently pulled something free: a silver strand, then another.
Eddie blinked once. “Oh,” he said.
There was no fear in his voice, just surprise. You held the strands delicately between your fingers, studying them beneath candlelight like they were precious threads of moonlight themselves.
Eddie suddenly looked sheepish. “Well,” he muttered, “guess I’m getting old.”
You looked almost offended by the statement. “Edward Munson,” you said softly, “you have survived.”
You slid from beneath him carefully, crossing toward the antique vanity near the window while Eddie watched you in sleepy confusion.
Then you reached for the little silver locket resting beside your jewelry tray, the one you wore nearly every day, etched with the letter ‘E’.
Eddie pushed himself upright slightly as you opened it carefully. Inside rested tiny fragments of your life together.
A pressed black rose petal from your wedding bouquet. A piece of the guitar pick Eddie used the first time he played guitar for you. A photograph so faded it barely showed two young people grinning in a cemetery beneath storm clouds.
Eddie went completely still.
You placed the silver strands gently beside them, like they were treasures. Then you closed the locket softly and climbed back into bed.
Eddie stared at you for a long moment after you settled beside him again. “…You kept all that?”
You looked genuinely puzzled. “Of course I did.”
“Baby, there’s literally a piece of an old guitar pick in there.”
“The broken corner because you were nervous while playing for me.”
His expression cracked instantly. “You remember that?”
“You dropped it three times before speaking to me,” you replied calmly. “You were adorable.”
Eddie let out a weak laugh, suddenly overwhelmed in the way only you could overwhelm him. Because no one had ever looked at the broken, embarrassing, vulnerable pieces of him and treated them like sacred things before you.
Your fingers slowly returned to his curls. “You know what I see,” you murmured softly, “when I look at these?”
Eddie shook his head once.
“A life.”
His eyes burned immediately, so you kissed his forehead gently.
“The silver only proves you stayed long enough to grow old with me,” you whispered.
And that nearly destroyed him. Eddie suddenly pulled himself over you completely, burying his face into your neck while holding you tight enough to make you laugh softly again.
“Jesus Christ,” he mumbled against your skin. “How are you real?”
You stroked your fingers through his curls carefully, silver strands and all. “I might ask you the same thing.”
“No, seriously,” Eddie groaned dramatically. “You put my gray hairs in a locket. That’s insane behavior.”
“You married me willingly.”
“I’d marry you in every lifetime.”
Your expression softened instantly. Eddie lifted his head, then just enough to look at you through the candlelight; older now, yes, lines at the corners of his eyes and silver threading through dark curls.
But still the same boy who fell hopelessly in love with a gothic girl in black lace all those years ago. Still yours, always yours.
“You know what the worst part is?” he murmured sleepily.
“What’s that, mon amour?”
“I still get nervous around you.”
You smiled. Then pulled him down into another kiss while rain whispered softly against the windows of your haunted little home.
AGH I HOPE YOU ALL LOVED ITTT:)))
Hell of a Summer pt.2 is currently in the works, GET EXCITEDDDD YUHHH
contains: smut, piv, whiny!dom!stephen, swearing, breeding kink, creampie, dirty talk, boob kissing, cum, cum smearing, clit play and kissing. This doesn’t say much about reader, it’s mostly just about Stephen lolz.
a/n: this is for @ysrjune but I accidentally posted this too soon earlier so I had to delete the request 🥀 sorry this got a little freaky guys 😈 AND ITS BUNS IM SORRY! divider credits in my masterlist, pics from pinterest!
Stephen Glass pulled away from your lips, a string of saliva connecting for a split second before breaking, so he can unbutton his shirt.
“Been craving your sweet pussy all day.” Stephen mutters, shrugging his shirt off. You run your hands down his torso until you reach the belt to his slacks and quickly unbuckle it.
The second you were both naked, he rubbed his tip through your slick folds before slowly sinking into you. Once he bottomed out, you both let out low, drawn out moans. But soon enough, he was pounding into you.
Stephen is very vocal. Probably more than you. He moans loudly, not a care in the world. He whines, he whimpers, sometimes he’ll cry from pure bliss.
He sits back so he’s on his knees, gripping your hips and thighs while he pounds his cock into your tight, wet heat. His head tilted back slightly, cheeks flushed, lips glossy, eyes fluttering shut behind his glasses.
“Fuck, baby, you feel so good.” He whimpers, pressing down on your lower belly to add to your pleasure. “Listen to your wet pussy… hahh…”
He leaned down to kiss your boobs, swirling his tongue around each nipple before just whining into them. “Hmmm, shit… yeah…” You could feel him smiling.
Stephen lifts one of your legs to wrap higher around his waist, his cock now hitting deeper, a loud whine escaping his mouth. Hitting that special spot while his hand that was on your belly now drifts down to your clit.
“That feels good, yeah?” Stephen grins, leaning down to sloppily kiss you. “Mhm, yeah it does.”
Before you knew it, you were both on the edge. “Gonna cum… wan’ me to cum inside you? Fill you up? Yeah, you want me to knock you up.” He was honestly just cooing at you.
A few more thrusts, and loud whines coming from Stephen, you were both coming undone.
When he came down from his high, he pulled his cock out and smeared the rest of his cum over your folds. So messy.
Then, always being nice no matter what, he leaned down and softly kissed your clit before coming up to kiss you with a happy chuckle.
Warnings/notes: Softdom!reader, sub!Stephen, missionary, smut, cursing, MDNI! Here is the request! ( ˶˘ ³˘)♡
You and Stephen met at work, both of you journalists for The New Republic. You had been there a few months before Stephen was hired, and he instantly sparked your interest. Everyone seemed to like him, he was nice to everyone, and friendly. He was definitely a nerd, you could just tell. He was shy, always stuttering, always talking about his weird interests. But he was perfect.
Since he was shy, you knew he’d never make a move, and he was pretty bad at hiding his interest for you too. The way he always stared, and blushed when he got caught, how he always stuttered around you, it was adorable. So you decided to make the first move, asking him out on a date, which he immediately agreed to. Anyway, that was a year ago, and you two had been dating ever since.
After a long day of work, the two of you drove back to his apartment, since you were sleeping over for the next couple of nights. When you two got up to his apartment, he immediately started kissing you, showing you just how needy he was. You smirked against his lips, gently cupping his cheeks. “What is it, baby? You want me?” You cooed, noticing how his dick was growing hard in his pants. He nodded, his hands sliding up your shirt. “Really badly..” he huffed, guiding you to his bedroom.
He pushed you, gently, onto your back, climbing on top. “Baby.. I want to be.. the one on top today. You always are.” He pouted, unbuttoning your shirt. You were surprised, but had no problem with it. “Of course, baby. Do whatever.” You said softly. He smiled, both of you stripping off your clothes hurriedly, not breaking your lips.
5 minutes later, the room was filled with the sounds of skin on skin, his and your moans. He was pounding into your pussy, holding your knees up to your chest. Now, normally, you were the more dominant one. And you both loved it. But even when he was dominant, he was still a whimpering and moaning mess.
“Fuck.. you’re so pretty.. so tight..” He moaned between heavy pants, burying his face in your neck. Your arms wrapped around him, one hand moving down to his lower back, gently guiding him, even thought he was doing well on his own. “yeah? Do I feel good?” You asked, gently moving some hair out of his face. He nodded vigorously, panting more heavily at your words. “Yes.. so, so good..” He whimpered, his thrusts speeding up.
You could tell he was getting close to coming, from the way his lips were parted, and the way his thrusts were fast but sloppy. “Gonna come f’me? Hm?” You cooed, your hand running through his hair. He moved his head up from your neck, gently pressing his lips against yours. “Yes mommy..” He said between kisses. You smirked. “Mommy? But I thought you wanted to be the dominant one.” You teased softly, kissing him passionately.
He let out a breathless laugh against your lips. “I am..” he said, but he sounded like he was trying to convince himself too. You could also feel your orgasm build up in your lower belly, your moans growing louder. “Gonna come, mommy?” He asked, his eyes filling with tears. You nodded, burying your face in his hair. “Fuck.. yes, baby.” You moaned, lips parted. He moaned loudly, his hands gripping the bedsheets. “M-me too.. can I come? Please?” He begged, a whimpering mess. You nodded, gasping softly as you felt your orgasm approaching. “Yes.. yes, come now.” You said, and he immediately obeyed, emptying his come into you. He moaned loudly, tears dropping from his eyes, onto your skin. “Fuck, mommy!” He whined.
You came at the same time as him, your back arching. Your moans and his filled the room. He stopped moving inside you, slowly pulling out. He gently pulled your legs back from your chest, immediately collapsing on top of you. He buried his face between your breasts, panting heavily. “Are you okay, baby? Did you like that?” You asked softly, running your hands through his hair. He nodded, gently kissing the valley between your breasts. “I loved it..” he admitted, before continuing, “but I like when you’re in control.” He said. You grabbed his glasses for him, helping him put them back on. “I know, baby.. you were so good.” You praised, making him feel all mushy.
Authors note: HI GUYS! I hope you liked this, I know it’s short. I’ve been really sick these past couple of days! (◞‸ ◟)💧 But I am feeling a little better! Should I write one about Sam too?
William Beeman had a bad day at work and came back to his pregnant wife with one thought in mind, getting down on his knees and worshipping her pretty cunt | 𝓢𝓶𝓾𝓽
𝓣𝓪𝓼𝓽𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓭𝓲𝓿𝓲𝓷𝓮
You were washing dishes while watching a show on your laptop, waiting for your loving husband to come back from work. You spoke a bit over the phone so you know he's already on his way. You did notice something a bit off in the call, that he sounded like he wasn't in the best of moods. You're certain his annoyance was not related to you, but it was clear that something bothered him at work, you assume he lost a deal and that it cost him a lot of money or something along those lines.
You hum, watching the show as you're about to finish your chores.
You're a housewife, still in your early twenties whereas Will is nearing the end of his thirties. You used to have a job that you didn't quite like, so when your husband offered to take care of everything, since he's wealthy enough to provide a comfortable life for both of you without breaking a sweat, you gladly obliged. Now you're here, looking pretty, doing simple house chores and pregnant with his baby. What else could you ask for? Anything you wanted he got for you, especially now that you're carrying his child.
The front door opens and closes, which makes you smile blissfully, drying up your hands to greet the love of your life.
“That was fast, how was work—? Hun?” You tilt your head when William doesn't answer, instead he takes long quick strides towards you, spinning you by the hip so he can crash his lips with yours. You can feel him ease up almost instantly. He sighs, resting his forehead against yours, and you instantly begin to rub his back with affection. “Rough day?”
He nods. “Uh-huh.”
Before you have time to say anything else, William finds himself lifting you up in his arms, making you laugh with surprise. Your eyes twinkle with excitement as he walks the two of you towards the sofa.
“What do you think you're doing Mr. Beeman?” Your teasing tone makes him smirk for a moment.
Your husband kisses your neck, licking and kissing like his life depends on it as he carefully sets you down. Big hands roam your figure with familiarity, grabbing and caressing your skin just the way you like it. Pregnancy has definitely made you more sensitive, more needy of him, it didn't take much time before you're already wet.
William drops to his knees, trailing kisses down your body as he slowly exposes you, pulling and bunching up your maternity midi skirt towards your waist. He stops for a moment, a teasing grin adorning his handsome face when he spots your panties, blue with a simple bunny print. The type of underwear one wears for comfort and not to seduce another. Makes him feel like the hunter he was in his spare time.
“Cute.”
“Shut it, Beeman,” you cover your face, laughing as he pulls down your panties. It doesn't matter how many times he's seen you, or the fact that you're pretty much knocked up with his child, these initial moments of intimacy always make you blush.
“Hmm... Beautiful. I don't understand what I did to deserve an angel for a wife, but I'm not complaining.” He praises, his voice thick with desire. He carefully spreads your legs, letting out a soft moan at the sight of your pretty pussy. “I don't care how many times I see her, I cannot get enough. So fucking good.” He captured his lip between his teeth for a moment, taking a long, unashamed sniff of your cunt.
“William Beeman!” You laugh, your bundle of nerves pulsing with need at his unapologetic display of lust. The way his eyes darkened makes your breath hitch. “What happened to 'hello, how are ya' love'?” You snicker, both your cheeky comment and good mood make him smile momentarily. That man is so in love with you it hurts.
“Sorry sweetheart. It's just... God, I've always been crazy for you but pregnancy did something to you,” Will groans, nearly melting into you the moment that his tongue spread your folds apart, tasting your sweetness. “It's like I became ten times more addicted to your taste.” He mumbles, his grip on your thighs firm. He hums in approval, capturing your clit between his lips and sucking lightly, the vibrations mixed up with the way he latches on to you caused a shiver to run down your spine. He couldn't understand how there are partners out there that get turned off by their pregnant wives. William? He could barely keep his hands to himself. He often tries to remember he's a gentleman, that he's supposed to be in control of himself since he's no longer a young man, and his pretty wife is pregnant. But how could he, when he knows damn well that you're always happy to take him and his affections? Poor baby mama always in heat, he's just being a loving husband.
You moan, one of your manicured hands caressing the back of his head while he worships you. You're definitely not complaining about this. Your hand, adorned by the engagement ring and wedding band, looks rather fitting against his scalp too, picture worthy.
“Hmngh-ah, I knew I was having a good day, but it just got ten times better...” Your eyes close for a moment, allowing yourself to get lost in pleasure as you giggle. Perks of being married to an older man, he doesn't play about pleasure, always making sure you're spent and satisfied. Will Beeman was a gift from the heavens above. Your hips begin to rock against his mouth, his tongue expertly caressing your most sensitive parts, lapping at you, tasting you. Two of his long digits insert themselves in your hole, fucking you while his mouth continues to do his thing. He's so in tune with you and your body, that your different sounds of pleasure are enough for him to know when to slow down, when to nibble, when to suck. If he could survive solely by eating pussy, he would. Simple as that.
“Talk to me, doll,” Will whispers against your core. He wanted to hear how you felt, but more than that, he wanted you to cum on his tongue. He continued to work, his tongue and fingers in perfect harmony. Your next mewl makes him grin, knowing damn well he was 'cruel' to you when he asked you to speak, at this specific point your brain is fuzzy and he knows it. “Aw, what's that, my love? Can't use your big girl words?” He chuckles, his grip growing more possessive of you.
You try to whine about him being mean, but forming out coherent sentences is a bit of a challenge at the moment, unfocused and drunk on him. Whimpers fly out of your mouth as your hips begin to rock for the second time, for a moment Will lays his tongue flat against you, his eyes glinting with delight at how uncoordinated and needy you're being. A trembling mess.
William groans against your clit, somehow melting into you even more, every move of his tongue was calculated, he's spent enough time between your legs to know exactly what to do and when. A few beads of sweat adorn your beautiful flushed face. Will's gaze is locked on you, his tongue and fingers never stopping. Never slowing down, nor speeding up, he kept his rhythm steady, giving exactly what you needed before you're letting out a trembling moan. A few more laps at your core and your body is rippling with an orgasm. He prolonged it as much as he could with his assistance, and gently slowed down his pace as you came down from your high.
You giggle, pushing his face playfully since your pussy's too sensitive now. With a grin of his own, William deposits a last kiss on top of your clit and pulls down your maternity skirt. He helps you sit up, kissing your lips tenderly.
“What about you?” You ask, reaching out for his belt.
William tuts, softly removing your hand. You're about to pout until you meet his love filled eyes.
“I'll prepare us a bath, you can take care of me there. Something about your body all soapy...” He hummed at the thought, picking you up with tenderness.
“I can walk, you know.”
“Good for you.” He laughs, and you do too knowing it wasn't up for discussion.
warnings : SMUT, breeding kink, swearing, unprotected piv (always practice safe sex, it prevents unwanted pregnancy and stops the spread of STDs/STIs!)
after countless nights of screaming matches and a near divorce, your husband had the epiphany that he’d rather give up his dream of having kids than losing the woman he loved with his whole being and soul.
the dawn before their final court date, he had dropped to his knees and begged for you to stop packing up, not wanting you to leave—and after a long and deep conversation where you clung onto each other with tears in eyes, you both made the final yet certain decision to stay.
however, a few days later when you were strolling around town square, you had encountered a sweet little boy who appeared to be lost. the poor toddler waddled his way over to you while you were picking out fresh fruit from the farmer’s market, his lip quivering as he attempted to ask where his mommy and daddy was. eventually, you helped in reuniting him with his parents—but it came with one consequence, a feeling you’d never felt before…
baby fever.
so here you were, WILLIAM BEEMAN eliciting breathless sighs and obscene whines from your lips with the deep rolls of his hips, completely oblivious to your fierce desires of bearing his baby.
you were lost in the pleasure and sensation of him making love to you bareback as you arched off the mattress, causing a change in the angle of his thrusts. he swore he’d never been this hard before, aroused from how you practically pounced on him once you had arrived home from town.
this was heaven on earth for him.
unable to hold himself back, he bowed his head down to suckle on various areas of your bare skin, groaning from how you squirmed under the touch of his lips. “so fuckin’ beautiful, my love.” when he had finally reached your stomach, pressing tender kisses over the valley where a baby—his baby—would grow, your composure and restraint shattered from the piercing gaze of his eyes.
he was pounding into your tight, wet cunt now—his rough hands pressing your thighs close against your chest so you could feel all of him as he coaxed you towards your climax. “will, fuck,” you slurred and bit your bottom lip in an attempt to regain control over your incoherent words; but when the head of his cock kissed your cervix, a broken moan escaped your quivering mouth. “so cockdrunk f’me, baby. your pussy really missed me this much?”
becoming a whimpering mess, you draped your arms across the bridge of his neck and tugged him close to your face, sharing a single breath, “want you to make me a mommy.”
will stills for a second, not knowing if he heard you right; however, when he saw the look of pure desperation tainted across your face, his heart almost bursts at the seams in realization. you now wanted needed this as much as he did.
“does my pretty, little wife want to be filled to the brim with my cum, huh? to make her all swollen with my child?” his fingers squished your face together, forcing you to look straight into his eyes when you reply, “please.”
with a couple final thrusts, your husband groaned as he spilled into you—a satisfied smile ghosting over your collarbone when his face nuzzled into the crook of your neck. after catching his breath, william rolled you both over so you were now laying side by side and facing one another. as he cradled your rosy cheeks in his hands with such reverence, his forehead met yours, keeping you close to him.
“did you mean what you said,” he sucked in a breath, afraid that you only said it in the heat of the moment and might take it back, “about me making you a mommy?” your eyes softened as you brought one of his hands up to your lips, affectionately kissing his palm before intertwining his fingers with yours. “i meant every word. i know i had some doubts in the beginning, but i’m sure now. i want this, i want this with you—to grow a family together.”
he captured your lips into a chaste kiss, short and sweet, “words can never express how in love i am with you,” will brushed his nose against yours, overwhelmed with gratitude.
“and to think we were on the verge of divorce because i wasn’t ready yet,” a chuckle slipped past your mouth as you held his entrancing gaze, “all it took was a stray toddler.”
“one lost, little boy, and now my wife wants babies… guess i’ll have to fuck one into you until it happens.”
for @haydenssweetheart 🏷️ : @h4yden-skywalker — (comment below to join the taglist!)
18+mdni, blurb based on this request!! (request and inspo thru @anistellars xo)
stephen glass x reader
the blinds were barely drawn enough in the office for people to not see you if they happened to glance in. stephen didn't seem to care as he pounded into you relentlessly, your cunt betraying you as you squeezed around him, arousal dripping down your thighs.
"just fucking quit. just fucking find another job, i don't fucking know." you breathe out, your knuckles white as you grip the desk, sweat forming against your forehead.
"your pussy doesn't seem like it wants me to quit." as if on cue, an orgasm shatters through you, your body heaving itself onto his desk, but he doesn't stop.
"you still gonna tell them?"
"yes! just fucking leave you piece of shit fraud!" he spreads your legs wider as he slams behind you, the noises of your arousal mixing with his balls slapping against your pussy becoming almost agitating, with how much you hated him at the moment but couldn't deny how much you were attracted to him.
"you just let the fraud fuck you in the office. you think they gonna let you get away with that, hm? you report me, i report you." with one final thrust, he buries his cock deep inside you, his cum painting your walls, making your stomach light on fire, your core pulse in a way you hadn't felt before. you straighten immediately, glaring at him. he smirks at you, fixing his pants, adjusting himself back in.
"don't forget," his eyes start to well up, tears forming, "i can make this look like you started it." sniffling, he fixes his face, and grins at you, making you seethe. "i'll see you for another meeting, i'm sure."
he hadn't stopped. everytime he finished, he kept his cock inside you in mating press, muttering something about how "he needed to make sure you always had him". at some point, you blinked at him, cupping his cheek in your hand.
"anakin, what's wrong with you today? i mean, you know i have no qualms about sex with you but you seem a little off." you keep your voice soft.
the question seemed to snap him out of whatever daze he was in, as he stared at you. you try to concentrate as his cock is still buried inside you, the pressure somewhat overstimulating you as he hasn't stopped in over an hour. instead of responding, he starts kissing you, around your face, on your lips, down your neck.
"ani." your voice cracks, as he sucks softly beneath your ear. he doesn't respond. you feel him start to grow inside you again, thicker, growing against your walls, as he leans down against your clit. your
eyes well with tears, sucking in a deep breath.
"m'just been on so many missions baby..." he grunts, this clearly affecting him too, but he won't let on as much. you furrow your eyebrows, wondering what this really has to do with anything. sure, he has, but he's never been like this before. he presses your legs further back, tipping his forhead against yours. as he finds his release again inside you, you feel his hot breath against yours,
"just need to make sure you have me forever. carry our baby."
your eyes widen as you realize what he's been doing.
clay beresford:
he had known he was having heart issues for a while. he constantly reassured you he would be fine in the surgery, that he would make it out completely fine and there was nothing to worry about. he could see it in your eyes, that you still were beyond concerned. the way you bit your lip everytime he brought it up, tried to change the subject immediately.
at some point, maybe he did think about it too. what would happen if he didn't make it out of the surgery and you were left with nothing, he was gone. he sat in his office, staring out the window, his lips twisted into a frown. your beautiful face, in tears, he didn't want to think about it. but he could think of a way, maybe, to leave you with something. if all went wrong, if there was the possibility he truly didn't make it out. and in a sick and twisted way, a way for you to never forget him, no matter what happened.
"baby." you sat in his lap on the couch, as he pressed soft kisses against your lips. you cocked your head at him, letting him go on.
"i know you've been worried about the surgery," he starts and you sigh, looking away, your shoulders sagging and he can tell you're starting to check out of the conversation. "no, no. listen to me. let me give you a baby."
your head snaps back towards him, a look in your eyes he hasn't seen before. "clay."
"i want to make sure you have me. if something does go wrong..."
"you're suggesting i become a single mother. that's not exactly as romantic as you're trying to frame it."
clay doesn't want to be agitated by your response, but he is. that isn't what he means by this, and he believes in the success of this procedure so no, you won't be a single mother. and why wouldn't you want to always remember him? through a child at that?
"you won't be, though. the procedure will be fine."
"so why do i need to be pregnant." you cross your arms. he sighs. you're stubborn. he'll have to go about this the way he wants, not the way you want. which involves replacing your birth control. but you won't know that. and you'll be happy once you realize he made it out and you'll be parents together.
sam monroe:
it was an accident. you think. you and sam had been caught up in the moment, truly just happy that your parents were gone for the weekend. you remember him asking if he should just take the condom off, you, in the moment agreed. he had gone on some spiel, one he had definitely either seen or heard in some porn, about how he wanted to cum inside you, but it did the trick.
"fuck baby. you're so tight." sam was behind you, gripping your ass, as you whined wiggling against him. "wanna fill you up. please."
"oh sam, i dunno..." your voice was garbled against the mattress along with the throaty moans mixed in.
"it'll feel so good baby, i promise." he grunts, giving your ass another squeeze. the idea of pleasure from him already being intensified makes you throb, so you dumbly nod your head.
"m'kay."
and he did. the sensation truly felt not much different to you, but he was in pure ecsatsy so you didn't mind.
at the time, anyways. now you do. when your period was late, when you started tracking your cycle, seeing how late it truly was, pacing around your room, deciding whether or not you needed a pregnancy test. in the end, you did get one. your hands shaky as you peed over it, tears welling in your eyes, because this can't be real? could it?
it was. those lines were very much real, the call to sam was very much real. after a moment of silence, his response was,
"does that mean i can continue nutting in you now? since you're pregnant?"
james kelly:
james never wanted a child until he saw you interact with one, really. was always impassive about it, never a second glance at a child. but he saw you one day, cooing at a baby, your sisters, talking about how "isn't she just the sweetest" and whatnot. he thought about it all day, the way that could be his child. his child on your arm, showing to people his child was the sweetest, that you truly belonged to him.
so as he fucked you stupid that night, whining and limp on the bed, he mutters into your ear. "gonna make you a mommy. how's that baby."
and maybe you don't realize the ramifications of what he said, or maybe you do and don't care, he can't tell. but you nod, whimpering out a 'god yes'.
"yeah? you wanna be full of me so i can breed you baby? want all that?" he's harder than he's ever been, he thinks, imagining you round with his baby, being able to take care of you.
"fuck, james, yes." you're pushing up to meet his thrusts into you, as if you want to feel him deeper inside you. he holds out his release as long as possible, to feel you on him, around him, to make sure this is the one that impregnates you. and if not, he knows he'll fuck you dumb until he can.
Hi! I’m not sure if requests are still open but I’m currently watching Higher Ground right now and I’m in love with Scott (is anyone surprised)! I was wondering if you could write a short fic about him comforting the reader when he finds out that she’s self harming? Totally get it if not.
scott barringer x gn!reader
wc: 0.8k
cw: DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, angst, mentions of self harm, reader has a history of sh, heavy topics, if you are not doing okay please read with caution
comment: hey anon, thanks for the request <3 This one deals with some heavier topics so reader discretion is advised
You were lying down in your cabin when you heard the loud movement of Scott's feet on the hardwood floors. His steps came closer and closer until you felt the bed dip as he sat down.
You roll over to face him and are greeted by the blonde’s messy hair and piercing blue eyes.
Scott had been at New Horizons far longer than you had and he knew his way around. When you had been put into the program by your concerned parents, Scott was given the task of showing you around. Although he wasn't too happy about being your ‘babysitter’ for the first few weeks, you grew on him.
You shared the same sense of humor and had similar taste in a range of things. Eventually you two had become close friends, always sneaking out to the docks together and making fun of the outdoor activities you were subjected to.
You thought you had been getting better, even the counselors believed so. There was even talk of sending you home in a few weeks to test the waters. You were looking forward to sleeping in your own bed for the first time in months. Until you realised that going back home meant leaving your new friends, including Scott, behind. You didn't want to give them up.
It had started small. Taking too hot showers that left your skin red and raw. Picking at the skin around your nails and chewing the inside of your mouth until it bled. But it wasn't enough for you. You knew relapsing was bad and that you shouldn't be doing this to yourself. But you couldn't help it. You didn't know how to deal with your only emotions any differently.
Scott speaks before you do. “Are you alright? You've been acting off and I don't fucking like it.” He looks at you, studying your face for any signs of anything wrong. You immediately turn defensive at his questioning. Shooting him down with a “I'm fine Scott, just tired.”
He speaks your name. “You're been tired for a week and a half. I haven't seen you at all basically. You haven't even been at dinner for Christ's sake.”
You turn over, facing the wall instead of Scott's gaze. “Don't shut me out” he responds to your actions, placing a hand on your shoulder to roll you back over harshly. “What is wrong with you?” you practically yell at him, you use your anger to push his hand off of you, “Get out.”
His eyes widen at your outburst, letting you shove his hand off your shoulder and getting to his feet. He is momentarily stunned before his eyes soften. “How long?” Is all he says.
You roll back over to inspect the wall again, ignoring the question. “Y/n How long?” He repeats clearly. Your legs come up to your chest in a fetal position, and you bury your head in them. You feel his weight sit on the end of your bed. “You can't keep doing this to yourself” he says softly.
You stay silent, hoping that he will get the memo and leaving you alone. You didn't want to have this discussion. Scott places his head in his hands, thinking, before he looks at your curled up figure. “Come on, speak to me please, so I can help you.” He practically begs.
You can help the tears that build up in your eyes, and slide down your face. You didn't want to be like this. Scott hears your racked sobs and his heart shatters. All he knows is that he needs to comfort you and make sure you are alright.
You feel the bed dip again and then a warm body pressing against your back. Scott's arm wraps around your waist pulling you closer to his chest. You let the tears fall as he whispers in your ear that it's going to be alright and that he is going to help.
His hand rubs soothing circles over your shirt where your hip rests, making you feel more grounded than you had a few minutes ago. His hushed tone and gentle words make you feel safe in his arms, letting you know that he cares more than he lets on.
He slowly turns you in his arms, so that your head is tucked under his. You sobs shake your frame, and he lets you cry into his cotton t-shirt. Slowly your tears come to a stop and he speaks to you softly, “it's going to be alright, okay? We're going to get you some help and you will be better again.” He places his lips against your forehead after you nod slightly but enough for him to feel.
You spend the rest of the day flush against Scott as he assures you that it will work out. A glimmer of hope erupts in your chest.
Please please please reach out if you are struggling. You are on this earth and you are loved. Below are some helplines if you are having a tough time. My messages are ALWAYS open if you need someone to talk to. 💙💙💙
scott dating a "weird" girl 💔 do you perchance know who josie kay on tiktok🤨 I laaauvvvv her she's so me. so what if scotts dating a girl like that and everyone's like "are we deadass rn she's so weird why do you want her" and blondies like idgaf she makes me laugh and I like her 🗣whatever but yeah readers a silly little weirdo always making her silly little videos and scotts in the background watching and laughing, smiling, maybe appearing in a few parts of the video whatever SORRY I JUST WOKE UPPPP
pairing: modern!bf!scott x “weird”!gf!reader
contains: swearing, fluff, comedy (?)
a/n: thank you my glorious king for requesting this 😛 I don’t watch Josie kay that much so I hope this is okay but omg she’s so funny.
divider credit: @strangergraphics
“Dude, the fuck are you cheesin’ at?” One of Scott Barringer’s friends ask. Scott’s nose was shoved in his phone.
“Just this silly ass picture my girlfriend sent.” Scott shrugs, still grinning from ear to ear at his phone.
“You serious right now?” His friends rolls his eyes. “Bro, why do you even like her? She’s weird as hell and posts those stupid videos. They aren’t even funny.”
Scott gave his friend a “stank face” before replying. “I don’t give a fuck. She makes me laugh, I like her, and she’s an amazing girlfriend.”
“Whatever floats your boat, dude.”
“Okay guys, today we’re making spicy noodles.” You announce to your phone. Scott was already in the background, trying to be serious.
And Scott was doing a great job being serious… compared to you. Until it was time to dig in to the food.
“Oh, God! WHAT THE FUCK!” He shouts, spitting it out.
“What’s wrong with you?” You laugh.
“These fuckin’ noodles! What’d you put in them?” He coughs, downing a glass of water.
“The spice packet?” You shrug, still laughing your ass off.
“Swear to God my tongue just burnt off.” He shudders.
You definitely posted that video and he definitely pouted about it.
You may be considered “different” or “weird as fuck” compared to the girls Scott’s friends were dating, but Scott didn’t care. You were hilarious, were yourself, and a great girlfriend. And Scott loved you.
I Want A Hippopotamus For Christmas (Scott x ChubbyFemReader)
Summary: Yes, granted, you’re a bit ditzy at most of the times. So when your boyfriend says that he only wants one thing for Christmas this year, you're bound and determined to give it to him…in a big way! Stuffing yourself with all kinds of sweet treats and high calorie foods while he’s away at college; fattening up, transforming yourself into a perfect hippo hero. At least, that’s what you think he was going for…that he wasn’t being sarcastic at all.
Warnings: 18+ (mdni), because there’s sooo much of the smut. Missionary (with them legs up in the air, like you just don't care), a few harsh pet names, mentions of wanting to fatten/knock up reader, and…Scott's big, fat cock. (Pretty Baby is aged up for this, early 20s)
Notes: Happy Holidays, lovelies! Welcome to track six of my special holiday mix, I Want A Hippopotamus For Christmas! ❤️💚
- “Fuck…fuck…” Bottoming out, Scott groans. The sound low, gruff. Emanating from the depths of his toned chest. “Didn’t think…shit…” While big hands squeeze, grip your wide hips a bit tighter. Supple, pillowy flesh overflowing. Spilling out between the gaps of his long fingers. “Didn’t think you’d take me seriously when I…”
- Laying beneath, chunky legs tossed…thrown up over his broad shoulders. Your such a pretty, little mess. With lips swollen from his rough, hungry kisses. Eyes scrunched, adverted and looking away in embarrassment. Chubby cheeks shining from the remnants of hastily wiped tears. Hiccupping and babbling weakly, words nearly incoherent. “I-I know. Went to-too far. Turned myself in-into a literal-”
- “Shut…up…” Lewd squelches of juices. Gasping mewls of flustered, pleasurable pain. The soft crack, slap of a firm yet gentle blow landing on your bruised love handle. Ring out, fill the vanilla scented air of your tiny apartment. “Shut up…stupid…”
- Wasting no time, he quickens his pace. Bullying your cute cunt with his fat length, bulbous tip roughly kisses that sweet spot of yours. “Said I don’t wanna doll…” Your loving boyfriend puts his weight behind each strong, powerful thrust. Causing your now softer, fuller body to ripple and jiggle. Bounce like the perfect ball that you’ve transformed yourself into. “No stupid, dinky tinkertoy…”
- Warm palm trails, descends your thick thighs. Kneading and fondling your ample bottom. “Wanna hippo to play wit…” Fingertips swirl around, dip slightly into those delectable dimples. Before settling, pushing on your round tummy. “Enjoy…”
- Squirming, you whimper meekly. Feeling how deep he’s buried, the pressure of him baring down on your not so tiny paunch. “Mmmh, but ya know what…” Gummy walls fluttering and clenching. Burning from the stretch, from the continuous barrage and onslaught of blissful abuse. “Think ya might still be too small for me…”
- Surprised, alarmed squeak bubbles up from your throat. “Don’t worry gonna fix that though…” Gaze locks with his, both sets of colored orbs blown wide. “Gonna stuff ya full…day ‘n night…” His in feral, raw desire of his fantasy coming to life. “Wit all sorts of junk foods…” Yours in shock and awe, arousing intrigue and undeniable rush. “Wit a brat or two…”
- Soaked core tightens, clamps hard. Stray drops of slick spurt out, trickle along the curve of your meaty behind. “Yeah…like that, huh…” Splatter onto, soiling the festive sheets even further. Feeble wail, mixed with a muffled moan escapes. “Want me to make ya into a real hippo hero…”
- Face and body grow flush. Your tiny fingers wrap, cling to his bulging bicep desperately. Pearly painted nails sinking, leaving crescent shaped marks behind. “All big and bloated…” Trying to anchor yourself from the flood of thoughts. Images of the fuller future that leave your head spinning, pussy throbbing. “All helpless and needin’ me for shit…shit…”
- String of needy pleas fly from your lips, accompanied by his endless stream of curses. “Don’t…fuck…” Neck strains deliciously, veins pop enticingly. Boisterous balls slap heavily. “Don’t worry, dum-dum…” As his hips slam harshly into you one last time. Creamy, sticky seed pouring in; painting your insides snowy white, stomach inching a smidge higher into the air. “Will have ya nice and huge by next year…”
- Panting, sobbing, laughing. “Then…fuck…” Skin glistens with a sheen of sweat under the twinkling lights. “Then I really will have me da perfect hippo fo-for Christmas…” Lovesick grin adorns Scott’s handsome face, which you can’t help but mimic. “But, ya know, this is a good star-start… Just sayin’…”
pairing: bf!scott barringer x emo!theatre kid!reader
contains: angst: Scott being a bit of a jerk at first, arguing. smut: aged up scott, piv, soft(?)dom!scott, handcuffs, degradation and praise, orgasm (m and f). fluff: pet names.
a/n: for @cassielunaaa :) hope you like it bb! I might turn this into a series if you want. I’m gonna be honest the smut is probably the longest part of this, I was #ovulating while writing 😔🙏.
divider credit: @bernardsbendystraws
Scott Barringer drove you around in his truck, his hand on your thigh. You were pissed at him. Today, someone had been saying some pretty harsh things when they passed you. You were used to it because of your style and you usually didn’t give a fuck. Until today.
Scott was with you when it happened and he usually stuck up for you but he just didn’t say anything at all. Didn’t do his usual “ignore them.” or “you okay, baby?”, just didn’t say a word.
“Why aren’t you talkin’?” Scott asks, squeezing your thigh gently.
You just looked out the window, ignoring him.
“Did I do something?”
“No, that’s the problem.” You sigh.
“What do you mean, babe?”
“When that guy said all those things earlier at the mall. You didn’t do anything like you used to.” You explain.
“Oh…” Scott nods slowly. “Baby, I’m sorry. You know I hate when they say those things. I figured you would want me to ignore it.”
“Well you usually always do something.”
After Scott apologizing a few times, he finally asked something. “Want me to show you how sorry I am?”
The second you guys got back to Scott’s house you were fucking. You were laying on his bed, black fuzzy handcuffs— that you picked out —around your wrists, Scott fucking himself deep inside of you.
“Such a good little whore, takin’ me so well.” Scott pants, low groans escaping him one after another.
He was on his knees on his bed, gripping your hips while your legs spread. Skin slapping against skin, bedsprings creaking, and the sounds of your wet pussy filled his room.
His words were riling you up, making you even wetter, clenching around him like he was gonna go somewhere.
“Mmm, you like when I talk to you like that?” He grins, tucking his bottom lip under his teeth to fight back his own whimpers of pleasure.
You couldn’t even respond, all you could think about and feel was his cock. Your wrists were pinned above your head by the handcuffs and you were trying to hide your face in your arm, at least trying to muffle your screams.
“Don’t go dumb on me now, look at me.” He murmurs, softly tilting your head to look at him. “Good girl.”
He almost snickered because he knew what he was doing by saying that. And it worked because your pussy was gripping him tighter by the second.
“C’mon, give me those lips.” He murmurs, leaning down to kiss you sloppily. Your hands instinctively tried to wrap around his neck but the restraint pulling on your wrists made you wince. “Nuh-uh, don’t touch.” Scott tsks.
You had been going at it for a while now, and when Scott started hitting that special spot you saw stars.
“Fuck!” You moan loudly against his lips, back arching. “Right there…”
“Mm, right there? Gonna cum for me?” Scott practically coos at you, hitting that spot repeatedly with the tip of his cock and letting his thumb rub your clit.
“Yes.” You nod. “Yes, yes, yes.”
With one, two, three more thrusts, you came around his cock. Hands pulling at the restraints of the cuffs, toes curling slightly, eyes squeezing shut.
Scott was trying hard not to cum while you were, and fortunately he held through until you came down from your high. He quickly pulled out, jerking his cock and immediately spurting over your belly. “Shit… fuck, baby.” He groans, his eyes rolling back and his damp curls sticking to his forehead.
“I know my sister like I know my own mind you will never find anyone as trusting or as kind” you sing as Scott was cooking dinner.
After cleaning you up and cuddling he decided to make some food. You honestly couldn’t walk after that fuck so you were sitting on the kitchen counter just singing away to Hamilton.
Scott rolled his eyes, stirring the food. “I just railed you to the point you can’t walk and now you’re screaming Hamilton.”
“Yes, but what song?” You question him.
“I am not guessing those stupid songs again.” He scoffs.
“Scott.”
Scott sighed loudly, pressing his lips into a thin line before mumbling. “Satisfied.”
“Yes! I’ve trained you well.” You cheer.
“Shut up.” Scott laughs.
“You love the songs and you know it.” You grin.
“No, I don’t.” He denies.
But five minutes later you heard him mumbling the lyrics to “One Last Time”.
You somehow talked Scott into watching Hamilton for the millionth time after dinner, so now you guys were cuddling on the couch.
“Hey, I’m sorry about making you upset today.” Scott says, the words muffled from the way he was nuzzling into your hair and neck.
“You definitely made it up to me, I’m not mad anymore.” You smile, pecking his lips.
“Good. I may not have said anything to those jackasses today, but you know I hate it when they say things. I love you for the way you are. The things that they make fun of or hate, I love. Like, your piercings, the way you do your makeup, your hair, your clothes… all of you. You’re beautiful.”
Imagine Scott x Nerd!Reader, but I mean NERD reader.
-Like reader explains homestuck or undertale during a group hike and all the cliffhangers(including Scott) get second-hand embarrassment.
-Reader drawing cringy fandom ship art and saying ‘It’s us!’ to Scott—meanwhile bro literally doesn’t know who the hell these characters are. He keeps the drawing anyways and will get visibly agitated if he loses it.
-Reader trying to impress him by playing with a football and failing miserable by throwing it badly lmao
-Scott will probably remember a random pokemon fact to impress Reader and it works.
-reader probably wearing like a ugly but cute crochet hat or sweater and gets teased for it by the other girls—would stop wearing it—Scott would be all nonchalant pretending it doesn’t bother him but deep down he misses his lil cringy partner
“Scott! Pretend we’re warrior cats on dawn patrol!”
“Literally stop.” (Proceeds to still hang out with you even tho he can easily walk away)
Idk I need more cringy or nerd Reader inserts in my life
(Will probably write how this cringe ass even pulled Scott in the first place)
