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b1rds3ye · 10 months

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Can you make a fic / short headcanon of how the COD men reacts to reader riding those bull mechanical? Their usual bar/pub has installed a new attraction which is that bull mechanical. Either they dared reader or reader wanted to try to ride, depends on the character. You know how those bulls move makes the rider look like they’re grinding?? Yeah I wanna know how the guys reacts to that 👀

OHOHOHOHO GOT IT thank you for sending in the request!! This is the first one this blog has gotten 🥳🥳 I hope you enjoy~

Ride On

The local bar has installed a mechanical bull for an extra activity among the drunk and whimsical. One day off duty, you decide to give it a go and have some fun, and it seems the boys are enjoying it just as much as you.

Characters: Captain John Price, Simon “Ghost” Riley, Johnny “Soap” MacTavish, Kyle “Gaz” Garrick, König

GN!Reader w/ no physical descriptions (except you're shorter than König)

Word Count: 2.5k (~500 each)

Genre: Fluff, Spice, established relationship

Warning: Spicy (but no smut), 18+/MDNI, awkward dialogue (it’s the cutest thing during flirty time fight me)

A/N: I don’t even write stuff that’s mildly spicy so I hope I did a decent job - also apparently mechanical bulls can do some real damage oh my god???

Captain John Price

On duty Price may be your direct superior but off duty you were more than free to do as you please even in his presence, he had always been clear about that. So he knew you were up to something when you sauntered up to him asking him for permission to go on the mechanical bull in the middle of the bar

He could only stare at your deceptively innocent smile for a moment before repeating the mantra that you could do what you want, his free hand automatically reaching into his pocket for a smoke as you strutted to the mechanical bull. You were going to be the death of him

He’s sure this is what emperors felt like in the days of old. Food, drinks, some very enticing entertainment and Price feels like he’s on cloud nine. Sitting by a table, he lounges back, thighs spread as he takes up the entire space of his seat and then some, feeling like a king as he watches you on the mechanical bull. He does not move, save for the occasional shift as his pants tighten

When you’re done riling him up, Price stays put as you approach him again. He can’t hide the incredible smugness he feels when the hungry eyes of strangers trail you, only to look at him in envy when they realise you’re already taken. He isn’t bothered by any of their stares, he can easily give any of them a piece of his mind

“You’ve got guts, love,” Price huffed out a puff of smoke. He remained seated by his table while you stood beside him, his face directly in line with your torso. His gaze travelled along every line and curve of your body that was so tantalisingly close, he could feel the body heat emanating from you. He stifled the urge to lick his drying lips.

“I did a good job though, right?” You beamed. He quirked an eyebrow at your sickeningly sweet voice. So you were going to keep up this charade, as if your face was only flushed from the physical exhaustion of remaining upright on the automaton and not from being so close but so painfully far away from him. Even in the darkness, he could see how your pupils swallowed your irises but he chose not to comment on it - he wasn’t faring any better.

“Passable. You’ve got two choices, sergeant.”

You swallowed, a shiver travelling down your spine as Price tilted his head down, idly extinguishing his cigar against the ashtray.

“Either you go back on the bull for some further training, give everyone here a sight for their sore, miserable eyes…”

Price regards you again, head up so that you could finally see his full face. Like a man lost for days in the desert, he gazed at you as if you were an oasis. Eyes lit up in awe, full of reverence, yet glazed over in carnal hunger.

“Or we leave this pub and you give me a private encore.”

Simon “Ghost” Riley

The instant he saw the new attraction he instinctively groaned under his breath. He already knew that you, Soap and Gaz will be provoking each other for some sort of competition. He’ll interfere if anyone seems uncomfortable but if it’s all smiles and laughs he’ll just quietly watch on with a mirth in his eyes reserved only for you and the task force (he will make a quip about you lot behaving like muppets though)

That being said, he already knows how suggestive a mechanical bull can look. When it’s decided that you’ll give it a go, Simon can only exhale slowly out of his mask, mentally preparing for an unexpected trial of restraint

He slinks back into the darkness of the bar, one with the shadows. His eyes shine like jewels as they reflect the treasure that is you. He drinks in the sight, committing it to memory. If from the bull you manage to see him in the gloom, his gaze is so intense it can single-handedly throw you off the automaton

Even off duty, he’s good at keeping his composure. When you return to him, you almost mistook him for being completely unfazed by your little stunt on the bull. But his voice is a little gruffer, the muscles in his throat straining with every syllable. He shows his neediness through his presence, you won’t be alone for the rest of the night as he accompanies you for even the smallest of errands

Rubbing your shoulder that was bruised from falling off of the bull, you beelined for the rest of the task force, only to get unexpectedly pulled towards the corners of the bar where the lights could not reach.

“Simon?” Your voice is barely above a whisper as you feel his hand splayed across your spine. He was never big on public displays of affection, he was possessive in that all of his love will be seen by you only. Daring a move like this has you turning to him in concern, but he didn’t seem uncomfortable in the slightest.

“We’ve got a problem.”

“And that is?”

Simon doesn’t reply, not verbally. He takes your hips in his hands, you can tell he’s trying his best to be gentle but his fingertips dig ever so slightly into your skin. Guiding you back to stand just in front of him, you grunted as you felt a hefty weight against your backside. Now that is a big problem indeed.

“Need you,” he rasps, voice so thick with air they were barely discernible words. You allowed him to pull you further against him, a guttural groan escaping him. “Fuck, didn’t know you could ride like that.”

“I’m a soldier of many talents,” you replied. He huffs against his face mask, digging his face into the crook of your neck. “I suppose I could go again. Just, not on the bull.”

Simon’s lips curved into a smile that warped the mask against your skin. His hands on your hips tighten, you won’t be escaping him anytime soon.

Johnny "Soap" MacTavish

When Johnny’s eyes settled on the mechanical bull, he then took a brief glance at you and his mind went places. This absolute menace is conjuring up a million and one ways to get you on that bull ASAP (with your wholehearted consent, of course)

He’ll do anything, making a dare, teasing you, trying to make a bet, just so he can see you mount that thing. He’s a dedicated man, once he has a goal he’s seeing it through, no matter how many playful slaps and lighthearted glares you give him. He’ll even set an example and go first - he’ll be flattered as hell if he can get you out of all people riled up

Johnny thinks he can handle it, but he’s always overestimating himself when it comes to you. He can’t play off how you’re bothering him as your hips slide forward and back against the saddle. He can only clear his throat uncomfortably and choke out a fake laugh when the rest of the 141 comment on how quiet he’s become

He bit off more than he can chew, he thought he was the smooth one for being blessed with such a sight but he’s finding himself more bewitched by you by the second. When you get off the bull he gives you a feeble punch on the shoulder, trying to act like he’s alright but really he’s completely at your mercy, hovering around you near begging you to give him attention

You didn’t even have time to greet him as Johnny pulled you away from the rest of the task force, down into a quiet corridor of the pub. His silence was unnerving, you asked him if something was wrong but his only response was his lips against yours. When you reciprocated, the Johnny you knew was back with you, smiling into the kiss with an exhale of eagerness into your mouth as he traps you against the wall with his body. His weight against you, it was already hard to get a breath in as he claimed your lips again and again and again. But what truly made you gasp was the hardness that brushed against your thigh. It was initially so brief, you could credit it as a phantom of your own lust, but as Johnny got bolder, it rested permanently against your upper leg.

Now that he made his predicament clear, he reluctantly pulled away from you, just enough for him to speak. His heaving breaths burned against your skin, no more than his azure eyes that bored into yours.

“I got another thing you can ride, aye?”

You burst into laughter as you gave him a playful shove on the chest. It did nothing push him off of you, his smile widening at your countenance.

“Johnny, that was awful.”

“I ain’t lyin’. My li'l MacTavish needs some help.”

“I swear to god I’m leaving you.”

“You know you love me. Now are you gonna help me or no?”

Kyle “Gaz” Garrick

Kyle has a playful streak, when he sees you eyeing the new attraction he’ll approach you with a mischievous glint in his eyes as he slides some cash to you. “This twenty says you won’t last five seconds on that.”

And with that, a light-hearted competition started. Kyle’s intentions were genuinely innocent, he just wanted to have some fun beyond drinking the night away. After you gave the bull a go he was wholly planning to try after you to show you how it’s done - and possibly impress you with superior balancing powers

It started off fun as you laughed at the odd movements of the bull under you and Kyle smiled with you. He’s willing to give up that twenty as you were clearly having fun

What he did not expect was how as the mechanical bull became more erratic, bucking indiscriminately in all directions that the sight seemed more… suggestive. A yelp of surprise from you has him situating himself behind a table, ensuring no one can see the growing issue below his hips

He dares a look at the rest of the task force who are taking in the sight innocently. Soap is shouting encouragements like a battle cry, Price pulls a face that’s a mix of amused and impressed, Ghost offers a single dip of the head in respect and now Kyle feels dirty, guilt mixing with arousal into a sinful concoction that drips down his tightening pants

As you returned back to the task force, Kyle immediately came up behind you. His arms wrapped around your waist, he sat his head on your shoulder, cheek against yours. With his entire body smothering yours, his whole being moved with every inhale and exhale of yours as you tried to recollect yourself after that exhausting ordeal of the mechanical bull.

“Getting touchy’s not going to make me forget about that twenty, Kyle,” you chided with a smile. You hear a little hmph as one of his hands dip into your pocket, resting over your hip bone. He slips the note in but his hand stays there, his thumb tracing over the wrinkles in your pants.

“You looked real nice up there, you know,” he mumbled into your ear before giving it a peck, arms tightening around you possessively.

“Feels like you enjoyed it,” you whispered, voice disappearing as you noticed something firm pressing against your ass. Your laugh came out far too weak. “Is that a pistol or are you happy to see me?”

He chuckled, husky and restrained, too distracted to reply. His hand in your pocket was becoming more animated, rubbing at your skin. Even through the fabric, you can feel how hot he is, only getting warmer as he gets more antsy, his free hand now tugging and teasing at your shirt.

Kyle spares a look at the rest of the task force, clearly distracted with their own drinking and antics.

“Do you think they’ll notice if we leave?”

“... No, let’s go.”

König

König will never ask you to go on the mechanical bull because he’d never go on it himself. Putting on a show for a whole lot of strangers in a pub? Potentially embarrassing himself in front of said strangers, his allies and you? The thought already fills him with dread and he is empathetic to never ask for such a thing from you. That being said, when it’s established you’re more than happy to give the bull a go, he’s not going to stop you

He knew how suggestive a mechanical bull can look but he figured he could handle it; he did not reach the rank of colonel by giving in to every temptation. But he should have known better when it came to you, your mere existence making him feel like he lost all composure and combat experience

Upon noticing the lustful stares of others, König doubles as a bodyguard. He slowly stalks around the bar, using his hulking figure to strategically block the view of you for others. He also takes note of anyone who seems a little too fixated on you, not hesitating to send a glare their way

Once you lose to the bull, he waits by the edge of the ring, taking your hand to escort you back to your friends. He does it both to be a caring partner for you, but also he’s preening as onlookers visibly deflate upon realising that if they want to get to you, they have to go through him

König’s hand was tight around yours, you could feel it occasionally twitch, aware of his own strength and trying to loosen his hold on you.

“Entschuldigung, mein Schatz,” he grumbled. “You wanted the night here, but I must leave.”

“Why?”

König turned his head away in embarrassment, but you noticed his eyes dipped lower for a split second. When you followed his gaze, you took a moment to pride yourself for getting your partner so riled up. It was only broken when he gently took your chin with his free hand, tilting it up - or just anywhere away from his growing predicament.

“It is embarrassing,” he muttered. “You were just having fun, but I am here… needing.”

“Not at all,” you smirked. “I wanted you to notice me.”

“I am always watching you, Schatz,” König whispered. He was getting bolder - or perhaps more desperate - with every word, the hand on your chin moving down to settle on one of your hips. You tilted your hips into his grip and the consequent breath he emitted was forceful and ragged. “I did not think such a machine could be so… crude.”

“But you liked the sight, right?” Your voice was smug as you pulled his face down to be in line with yours. You now had a perfect view of his eyes that were alight with lust, pupils blown so wide you could not distinguish if it was the gaze of a predator or prey.

“Zu viel.”

Call of Duty Masterlist

#cod x reader #call of duty x reader #cod x you #task force 141 x reader #captain price x reader #john price x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #john mactavish x reader #soap x reader #gaz x reader #kyle garrick x reader #könig x reader #könig x you #/*avery actually writes*/#/*avery checks the mailbox*/

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milkteabinniechan · 1 month

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♡pink satin - minho

Bf! Minho solo x afab reader ☕|m.list

warnings: masturbation, pillow fucking, slight angst, slight degradation

Minho was bored. And not just the basic boredom that comes with a dull day. No, Minho was excruciatingly, unapologetically, desperately bored. He stared at the ceiling and contemplated calling you. The fight between the two of you was still fresh and new. New enough that he knew better than to try to contact you. The argument was over something petty. Minho knew he should have already apologized by now, but he was stubborn. Almost as stubborn as you were.

He drug his hands down over his face and let out an exacerbated sigh. His head fell to the side and he saw your pillow laying next to him. Pink satin pillowcase. Such a princess, he thought.

Minho took one hand to the pillow and gripped it softly, just how you liked it. He missed you. He missed your smell, he missed your taste. God, he even missed the way you yelled at him. Something about your voice hitched up to a higher tone made the blood rush to his dick every time.

“You’re turned on by this?! We’re fighting!” you’d say. And Minho would respond with a smug can’t help it, babe.

Which was the truth, he really couldn’t help it. The was you’d look when you’re flustered, your face turning red, biting your lip in frustration. You just looked so goddamn cute, he was powerless against you

Minho turned on his side and continued to stroke the soft satin. The gentle fabric against his fingertips caused a sudden pulse in his boxer shorts. He glanced down at his groin, the back at the pillow next to him. He shrugged and let out a firm what the hell? before propping himself up on his knees, already pulling down his boxer shorts just enough that his semi-hard shaft starting to push its way out. He strongly tugged at the silk lined pillow and positioned it in between his open thighs. He lifted himself up just enough to tuck the pillow halfway beneath him.

Minho smirked at the sight of your soft, pink pillow underneath his cock and balls. This certainly wasn't his first time grinding onto something smooth and plush like this. This was, however, the first time he had ever used something of yours. What would you think of him? What if you came home right now and saw him in such a predicament? The thought drove him wild. He threw his head back and began to move his hips back and forth at a slow and even pace. Lazily he let his ever-growing cock slide across the supple fabric of the pillow. His tip began to tingle and leak but Minho continued his pace, unhurried.

But soon the listless pace became too much and he could feel the heat from inside urging him to push harder, to go deeper. Minho bucked his hips and sprang into a rutting motion. His body launched into a rhythm that he no longer had control over. His mind was taking a backseat to what his cock wanted to do. His body jerked forward and both his hands gripped the pillow for more leverage. Grunts and groans were bouncing off the walls of the bedroom you shared as Minho began to reach his climax.

Take it. Take it. Yes, like that. Come on, princess, I know you can do it. Take. it. All.

Minho moaned under his breath. The words like a mantra as he persisted, his hips fully rutting and crushing into the mattress now.

His orgasm poured out of him mercilessly. The pink satin now drenched in the mess he had made. Minho fell back onto the mattress and let out a sigh of relief. He chuckled to himself at how out of control he had gotten over a simple pillow. Then he saw the stained mess he had left.

“I’ll buy them a new one.”

taglist: @sugawhaaa @trixiekaulitz @chrizzztopherbang @cassidymb121

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mondaymelon · 5 months

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₊⊹ 𝐃𝐎𝐋𝐋 ❤︎ | yandere!xiao, childe, scaramouche x gn!reader

art by @/syaden8 on twt!!

⟢ cw: a failed escape attempt from them... yandere, dark themes, petnames, mutilation (xiao, scara), violence, drugging (scara) etc. please proceed with caution! thank you.

⟢ "your order's denial is causing me trial !"

"Ah."

XIAO's lips moved, and it was that single noise that escaped.

For your room lay barren, empty, cold, the harsh winter breeze drafting through the shattered window, the bars covering it having been forcibly bent aside. "It..." For a moment, his body swayed, his own legs unable to support his weight. Then, his balance stabilized, his once by a fraction wider eyes having narrowed. "It seems my songbird has escaped."

Unacceptable. The word repeated in his head, like a mantra, a prayer, resounding within his ears, despite the silence, despite the cold that bit at his skin as he trudged through the snow, his spear at his side. A tiny, devilish voice that tugged on his ears and whispered out tales of his sin.

"Found you."

"N-No- please-" His gaze sharpened in annoyance. Desperate, your voice hoarse and cracking by the syllable, hurling yourself forward one more step, just one more, your bloody, bare feet scraped and bruised. This wasn't right, how come you seemed so distressed?

No, you of course sounded better as his songbird, in a pristine little cage, singing for him, and only him, happy tunes of joy and pleasure.

"...And as a songbird can live with its wings clipped, surely you'll understand if I...?"

The shackles locked tight around your wrists, and your useless, wretched legs, bones shattered by a single blow.

It's an unfortunate predicament, but it's the only way. ❤︎

"Oh, so the chase is on?"

CHILDE shouldn't be laughing, but oh, he was.

It's a twisted sound, with the corners of his mouth distorted upwards in a haphazard smile, his eyes blown as a dark flush of red descended upon his cheeks. "So you've decided to play this little game of cat and mouse. Very well, if that's what you want, darling!"

You aren't making this difficult enough. His keen gaze spots all the traces you've left behind, broken branches, ruffled leaves, a torn piece of the clothing he had gifted you... it's all imbued with your essence, honey sweet on his lips.

Why would you even want to leave him?

It's that thought that makes him pause upon finding you, your trembling form sprawled across the bloodied snow as he stands over you, his own shadow casting you in darkness.

That's right, why would you? He's been nothing but loving. He's catered to your every need, has he not? He's bought this house for you, all the clothes you wear, the food you eat, the bed you sleep in... what right did you have to defy his affections, now that he had made them ever so clear?

If anything, it was insulting.

Oh, but did he truly feel insulted? After all, an offended person wouldn't have taken you like that, wouldn't have knocked you unconscious and wouldn't have carried the delicate you in his arms back to home.

Maybe a better description would be "longing." Longing for your praise, longing for your thanks, longing for the smiles you'd send his way... how come your eyes have faded, since then? It's strange, he's never seen you look so... determined before, not since today.

Ah, but what did it matter?

This puny escape attempt of yours... his tongue tasted bitter.

It wouldn't happen again. He'd make sure of it, so please, don't mind the chains, would you? ❤︎

"They... dare?"

SCARAMOUCHE's expression contorts to one of rage, his brows sharply angled downwards and his violet eyes wide, quivering.

Haha... what a fool he was. He should've been more attentive, how had he not noticed your strange movements? The way you gave him a forced smile everytime he returned home, the way you'd greet him at the door with the dinner you made, and he had finally thought you had accepted his confession all those weeks ago, he finally thought you had gotten used to and started liking your life here, finally thought-

And then he thought nothing at all as his body swayed and fell to the ground. The audacity, to go and dig through his things, to go, find, and use the very drug he had used to bring you home.

By the time he awoke, the house was but a cold expanse, barren of your warmth, and he clenched his fists so tightly, his nails kissed red crescents into his skin that weeped with every flex of his fingers.

"To pull such a parlor trick against me like this... ah, doll. Don't think you'll get away with this leniently."

When he found you, not "if", he'll make sure to reprimand you properly. If breaking your spirit wasn't enough, then he'd have to break your mind too. He's already decided that he'll reshape the pure thing with his own, dirtied hands, into something that will burn only for him.

Surely, a couple missing limbs, here and there, wouldn't obstruct that light, would it now? ❤︎

(a/n) as i said on my sideblog, something about writing for toxic mentally distressed emotionally broken and heavily reliant yandere characters who turn to violence to show their love is. just so. oddly... comforting?? was going to make this longer and then some shitty shit shit went down so. yay. tears.

if you enjoyed please consider following me or leaving a note on this post!! they are very appreciated, and i am very close to hitting a follower goal that i want to reach before the new years ! thank you.

໒꒱ || ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ (open! send an ask or a comment ♡) : @manager-of-the-pudding-bank, @iamdedinside, @ilyuu, @achlysis, @swivy123, @scara-is-my-wife, @lupicalbestwolf, @justyoureader

-> teehee what if yall left a message on my christmas tree 😶😶😶

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garbinge · 1 year

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Clean Cut

Tim Bradford x F!Nurse!Reader

Warnings: Mentions of bullets, war, shrapnel, anxiety, worry, car accidents. Slightly angsty.

Word Count: 1.2k

A/N: Okay so I just caught up with all The Rookie seasons and I’m just LIVING for Chenford. Like LIVING. buuuuuut I noticed there wasn’t much Tim x Reader fic out there soooooo I figured why not! This idea came to my head at some point when I was watching and I also have like a whole story of their life beyond and before this moment but enjoy this little reworked snippet from 2x08.

The Rookie Taglist: @drabbles-mc @justreblogginfics

It had felt like a long day already and you had only been clocked in at the hospital for two hours. You still had 10 hours left in your shift and it felt like you experienced a whole day’s worth already. Being a corpsman for a Marine squad prepared you for a lot but sometimes the uniqueness of LA and the people who resided in it and tended to need your RN medical services at St. Stevens ran you for your money.

Currently, you were updating patient charts during the lull that was likely to last all of two seconds but it beat staying an extra hour to finish your paperwork likely unpaid because the hospital rarely approved overtime for RNs.

“Wanna tell me why it’s so crazy for a Tuesday?”

The statement from your coworker caused you to look at them over your shoulder and let out a laugh.

“I wish I had an answer to that, but I also feel like anything I say will jinx it even more.” You pushed the computer cart against the wall and moved over to your coworkers cart. “You’ve got like 15 pages here, what is this?” You picked up the manila folder that was larger than your normal ER patient folders.

“Police car accident. There’s a few of them in the ER right now, these things always include tons of paperwork. Everyone needs to cover their asses.”

Your heart started to beat faster at the mention of a police accident but what really caused you to go into panic mode was seeing your husband's name on the report.

Before you could even answer your co-worker you were moving down the stairs, knowing the elevator would take too long. You knew the elevator would probably be quicker but the thought of standing still while you waited for and in it would drive your mind crazy so rushing down the stairs was the better alternative.

Tim was sitting on one of the ER beds, the scene of it caused you to stop for a minute. It wasn’t the first time you’d seen Tim hurt waiting to be treated. In all honesty this was probably the tamest medical treatment scenario you two had been in together. He looked fine from afar, but that didn’t stop the worry from boiling in your gut.

“What happened?” You were next to him within seconds, the worry being the fuel of moving you from the staircase entrance to his side in seconds.

“I rear ended a civilian.” Tim knew better than to try and calm you down with pleasantries and relaxing mantras.

“Jesus.” Your hand moved to your pocket in search of your pen light. Quickly, you flashed it in front of his eyes, searching for his eyes to constrict and then dilate when you moved the light away.

“They already did this.” Tim’s voice was neutral, but you knew he was annoyed.

“Humor me.” Your head tilted, now your own annoyance was clear to him.

His eyes softened as they met yours and he nodded which gave you the okay to keep running through the trauma checklist in your head.

“This isn’t like you.” Tim said after a few minutes of silence between you as he humored you by lifting up his arms as you pressed down on his ribs and checked his reflexes.

“In what way?” You talked as you continued to look him over.

“I’ve come home and told you I’ve gotten shot at and you barely react, I tell you that I got into a car accident and you’re acting like I have internal bleeding.” Tim’s eyebrows raised.

“Did they do a CT scan? You could have internal bleeding. Especially if the airbags went off.”

“Doc.” The use of the nickname only 13 people in the world knew you as caused you to stop your examination of Tim and stand in front of him, slightly defeated.

“If I worried about every close call you encounter everyday, I’d be dysfunctional. This.” You pointed towards him and the bed, “This is tangible. This actually happened.”

Tim nodded and a smirk slightly filled his face.

“You doubtin’ me, Sarge?” You frowned as you asked him, using your own nickname for him.

“No,” Tim let out a chuckle and shook his head before looking back up at you. “I know better than to ever doubt you.”

“Smart man.” Officer Lopez walked up to the two of you with a smile. “How’s he doin’?” She looked between the both of you.

“He’s fine. No signs of a concussion,” you looked at Angela and then back at Tim, “and no signs of internal bleeding.” You smirked at him knowing he was going to give you one back.

“Give us a minute, Lopez?” Tim stood up and ripped the hospital bracelet off his wrist.

“Yea, just wanted to let you know the break lights were cut in the car you hit, foul play, you’ll likely be in the clear.” She explained while looking at the both of you, relief coming as a sigh from both you and Tim. “I’ll be in the lobby.” She nodded at him and squeezed your arm to say goodbye before leaving the ER.

“We goin’ back to the conversation we were having or a new one?” You asked Tim as he towered over you.

“You pulled shrapnel out of my abdomen in Afghanistan and you look more worried checking me for a concussion.” Tim said with his arms crossed. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing.” Your one worded answer wasn’t convincing.

“Don’t lie to me.” Tim said more seriously than any of his other statements.

You sighed, “Like I said, this is tangible. In Afghanistan, we weren’t exactly given the space to worry. Here, I feel like it’s all I have to hold onto. But again, if I held onto every worry I’d be dysfunctional. I know you can handle yourself when bullets are flying, when shit goes sideways, it’s these out of your control scenarios that just get me flustered.” You explained moving your hands around as you talked.

Tim brought you in for a hug, knowing nothing he’d say could change anything. “You do realize, I’m the one that rear-ended the civilian, not the other way around, right? Totally in my control.” He teased you.

“Not according to Angela.” You corrected him and he chuckled.

“I’ll see you tonight.” He placed a quick kiss on the top of your head.

“See you tonight, I already texted Angela all the concussion signs in case we missed anything.” Letting your last bit of worry out.

“You haven’t missed a single diagnosis or injury since I met you, Doc!” He called out from a few feet from you.

“You know, I’m technically not a doc, anymore, Sarge!” You yelled out to him.

He turned around with his arms up as he continued to walk backwards. “And I’m not technically a Sargeant anymore.”

“Old habits die hard!” You yelled back just before the elevator doors opened and he stepped backwards into the elevator flashing you a quick smile before the doors closed and he was back on duty.

#Tim Bradford #Tim Bradford x Reader #Tim Bradford x F!Reader #The Rookie #The Rookie Fanfiction #The Rookie Fanfic #The Rookie Tim Bradford #Tim Bradford Fanfic #Tim Bradford Fanfiction #Timothy Bradford

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garoujo · 2 years

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YOU USE YOUR SAFE WORD — JUJUTSU KAISEN

feat : gojo satoru, geto suguru, fushiguro megumi, itadori yuuji + nanami kento

♱ warnings — f!reader, safe word usage, mostly just rough sex, aged!up characters, overstimulation, teasing, yuuji doesn’t hear you the first time :(

♱ note — fank yew 2 the nonnie who requested this . i hope u enjoy it >_< i done this 4 tokrev a while ago so excited for these !

・✶ ｡ﾟGOJO SATORU

gojo was all about your pleasure, but he always liked teasing you in the hopes that he would be able to draw it out — make you feel even better when he finally gives into you. he’d only put a safe word in place when he realised just how lost in you he gets, sometimes you have to pull him back.

“mmm, so pretty when you cry f’ me, sweet thing.” gojo drawls from where his figure is leaning over you, smooth tone accompanied with another slow rock of his hips — grazing his cock against the almost painfully swollen spot inside of you that he’s been teasing all night. he’s been denying you of your orgasms, just so he can hear the sweet little whispered begs that fall from your lips for him as tears gather around your lashes. but you want, need to cum — the coil in your stomach is wound so tight it almost hurts everytime you twitch around his cock, sobs catching in your throat as you pant out a mantra of please everytime you even get close. “n-need to cum—please.”

but gojo’s too lost in you, in the saccharine squeeze of your pussy along his cock and the way your fingers tremble when they grab at his skin — leaning over you until he’s kissing away the damp paths that your tears leave in your skin. “oh? i don’t think i want you to do that just yet, princess.” his words are accompanied by another sharp thrust and you almost scream when it feels like he reaches too deep, it hurts and the words are falling from your lips before you can even realise. “b-blue, satoru!”

it’s almost smooth the way gojo immediately pulls his cock out of you, pulling you into his arms before one of his large palms are resting against your cheek — rubbing soothingly along the damp skin as he hushes your sobs and trails his other hand along your skin in soft circles. “hey, hey.. look at me, angel. you okay? i’m here with you.” his voice is a low hum, a comforting sounds that makes you curl into him before his lips are resting against your temple, curling around the praise he buries into your skin as he holds you close — placing kisses between breathes until your sobs finally cease. “too much for my sweet girl? yeah? don’t worry, i’ve got you.”

・✶ ｡ﾟGETO SUGURU

geto always took your comfort and pleasure very seriously, which is why the safe word was in place anyway — you’d never had to use it, but he always liked it just incase. considering no matter how many hours he spent prepping you, his cock was still thick enough for you to feel every ridge when he stretched you.

you don’t know what had gotten into you today, you just didn’t feel comfortable — geto had spent his time prepping you for the stretch of his cock, sinking his fingers into your cunt while he bathed your clit in strong licks and it felt good, great. but when it came to actually taking him, it didn’t seem to be going as well as you’d expect — he was long and thick, and it felt like he stretched on forever when he was rolling his hips into yours. the burn hurt more than usual and you felt tense, even as he placed soothing kisses along your features.

“relax for me, pretty girl. eyes on me, alright?” geto hums as he looks at you, there’s a furrow to his brows and his lips are parted but despite the growing haze in his mind he was still observant. you’re almost gnawing on your lower lip with every twitch of his hips, feeling something sharp sit uncomfortably in your lower abdomen with the thick spread of him — but he looks so handsome, and you feel bad with how much time he’s taken to make you feel good. so you just try to grit your teeth and bare it, but after a too fast grind of his hips you feel your vision turn a little blurred. “r-red, sugu! it hurts, please.”

“shit.” geto is on you in an instant, his large body curling over yours as he holds himself above you — pulling you in for a hug that has you melting into his warmth almost instantly. “hey. look at me, sweetheart. ‘m sorry, you okay?” he asks softly when his gentle gaze meets yours — thumb swiping gently at the tears that you don’t even feel escape before he’s sending you a kindhearted smile, and rolling onto his back with you against his chest. “anything hurt? you need anything?” his hands are soothing as they squeeze affectionately at your hips, massaging at your skin until he feels the tension in your muscles melt away. “just this, sugu. can we stay like this?”

・✶ ｡ﾟFUSHIGURO MEGUMI

a lot of what megumi knew was what you had taught him, so you’d suggested having a safe word pretty early on so it gave you both room to experiment with stuff — to explore what you both liked while also being able to have limits with eachother, although sometimes he got a little carried away without realising.

megumi had been a little grumpy today, coming home to you with a furrow in his brows and a pout on his lips. but it had surprised you when he’d pulled you to kiss you breathless anyway, licking into your mouth with a heat that was almost misplaced with how gentle he normally was with you. but you’d noticed fairly quickly that he wasn’t himself when he hadn’t taken as much time to prep you as much as he normally did, his movements were sharper — a little clumsier as he fucked into you.

the furrow in his brows remained as he fucked into you, he was trying to forget about whatever had happened today it seemed — knowing that he always felt better being wrapped in you. but the way megumi’s sinking his cock into you isn’t precise, it’s like he’s chasing his own pleasure and he’s too dizzy to realise he’s mumbling under his breath. “so annoying. j-just take it.” you know he’s probably not meaning it about you, but when it’s accompanied by the almost dry burn of his cock rutting into you — you can’t help the way it gets to you. “‘gumi?” you try, words almost getting caught in your throat when he sends you a pointed, sharp look. “green.”

but megumi’s movements immediately still when the words leave your lips, eyes wide although the furrow in his brow remains — except it’s softer now, frowning more at himself than anything else when he notices the way you’re looking at him. “h-hey. shit—i’m sorry, are you.. are you okay?” he asks earnestly when he pulls away from you, kneeling between your thighs as he lets his fingers roam up your calf soothingly — a little scared incase you don’t want him close to you right now. “i’m okay, are you okay?” you reply, and you watch your boyfriend’s gaze avoid yours for a few moments before he’s hesitantly guiding you against his chest, bringing you close as he speaks into the crook of your neck. “y-yeah, shouldve spoke to you, sorry..”

・✶ ｡ﾟITADORI YUUJI

it was too easy for itadori to get lost in you, his stamina was unmatched and the way he fucked you was almost animalistic at the best of times, and as much as you loved it — you both decided you would have a safe word just to be cautious, knowing his strength and ability to cum multiple times might far exceed your own.

and today might be one of those days, you think as itadori fucks into you with a pace that feels like it knocks the air out of you. you don’t know how many times you’ve both cum already, pussy squelching with every wet connection of his hips into yours, and everytime his cock pushes deeper. you feel a mixture of your orgasm push out of you in response, reminding you of the overstimulation burning in your clit with how swollen and used it is, grinding against your boyfriends pelvis with how he’s digging into your pussy.

your fingers are curled into fists at itadori’s chest, pushing away slightly everytime he sinks into you while your face curls up uncomfortably — but his gaze is fucked out and blown, and he’s too lost in you to notice. “y-yuuji, slow down!” you gasp before the words are knocked out of you with another heavy thrust, your vision feels blurred and the sweet spots that he’s hammering the blunt head of his cock against feel achy. “f-feels so good, baby. gonna give you one..mmmm, one more. can do it for you, make you feel so good.” he’s babbling, nuzzling into the crook of your neck so deep he barely hears the way “pink.” falls from your lips the first time, until you’re choking on a sob and accompanying it with a harsh shove into him. “pink, yuuji!”

“baby! hey, hey.. shhh, it’s okay. i’m sorry, i—i didn’t hear you. fuck.” itadori almost jolts when he pulls away from you, flinching slightly when he sees the tear stained look you’re giving him, the sight only making his own vision become blurred all the same. “didnt mean it, are you okay? can i touch you?” he’s hesitant, a little nervous but despite the way his cheeks are a little damp with tears he’s still too focused on yours. but just as quickly as you’re nodding out a yes he’s pulling you against his chest, squeezing you tight as he showers you in apologises and kisses along your skin. “wont do it again, baby. promise, love you so much.. don’t hate me.”

・✶ ｡ﾟNANAMI KENTO

it was unlike nanami to be rough with you, too rough atleast — he was normally so aware of how he handled you, being able to control himself no matter how much he wanted to let go. but you’d caught him after a long shift at work, he was exhausted and wanted to lose himself in you a little, relief some duress.

it’s unlike him the way nanami’s fucking you, all sharp thrust and rough smacks of his hips as he buries his cock into your walls — fingering almost painfully grabbing at the swell of your ass as he bends you over the table in the living room. he’s barely out of his clothes, shirt and tie still on although a little loosely and his pants are only pulling down enough for him to slip his cock out, to bully into your cunt and let the stress from his day melt away with every intoxicating squeeze of you around him.

“just be good, sweetheart.” nanami grits out, his tone low with exhaustion before his pace is growing faster, rougher and it’s uncomfortable the way he’s pressing you against the cold wood below you — it digging sharply into your hips as he fucks you into it. “s-slow down.” you try to reason, reaching behind you blindly to push at his chest but his own hand only catches you, pinning your limb to your back before he’s groaning; ragged and almost irritated in a way that has you wanting to shrivel up.

“what did i say?” he drawls, and when you turn to meet the heavy-lidded, carefully blank look he sends you, you almost scream when it’s accompanied by a too sharp thrust up into you—making you jolt painfully against the table just as nanami’s cock grazes against something a little too deep inside of you. “gold.. gold, please!” but he listens when he carefully pulls out of you, turning you to face him as his features immediately soften. “everything okay? did i hurt you, sweetheart?” the soft tone is familiar when you hear it, instantly soothing you anxieties and the throb you feel in your hips comes soon after when his hands massage at the spot, followed by a kiss smeared along your forehead. “let me run you a bath, would you like that?”

5K notes · View notes

lovebugism · 1 year

Note

hiii idk if you’re still taking requests but can you do something smutty with steve in season 3 w his scoops ahoy uniform on after he gets home from work or something🙏🏼🙏🏼

like sub!babygirl!steve is so 🤤🤤😽😽 and a

dom!femreader 🫶❤️❤️ AND OMG HE HAS A MOMMY KINK😧😧 I BEG OF YOU

✶ ┄ OH, BABY !

summary: after a long day at work, steve harrington needs someone (*cough cough* you) to take care of him. pairing: sub!steve harrington / f!reader word count: 5.6k warnings: sub!steve, brief use of a mommy kink, r calls steve daddy like twice i think, mention of a breeding kink, 18+ mdni (ignore any typos, i am way too tired to proofread <3) a/n: hi, it's me again, turning a blurb request into a full length fic. also i can't stop writing for sub steve apparently. all i can say is baby girl is baby girlin real hard in this one lol thanks so much for your request! enjoy xoxo

( BLURB SLEEPOVER ) | ( MASTERLIST )

It’s sunset by the time his shift at Scoops concludes. He serves the last few remaining customers while Robin less than kindly ushers out the loitering teenagers that have stuck around all day.

A group of moms clad in vividly colored spandex tells him “we’re being bad today” like some sort of mantra that makes them feel better about ordering plain vanilla ice cream. Some middle school aged girls with a mouthful of braces, crimped hair in pigtails, and absolutely wreaking of fruity perfume and daddy’s money try helplessly to flirt with him while they use a matte black card to purchase a banana boat sundae.

His last customers of the night are an old married couple, all gray and wrinkly and smiling like life’s still so new to them. They order one strawberry cone to share between them and hold onto each other’s shaking, frail hands as they make their exit.

Steve smiles as he watches them go. He sees a lot of you and him in them. He hopes by the time you both are all old and brittle, you’ll still be happy like that, still so in love.

Working in the downstairs abyss of Starcourt makes him feel crazy sometimes. With no windows and only manufactured fluorescent lighting for ten hours straight, it makes time feel less and less real.

Sometimes he’ll be in before sun out and cower like some sort of vampire when his shift is over. Other times, he’ll come out when it’s pouring down rain and be absolutely baffled at the sight of it because it was perfectly sunny when his shift started.

Everything else but ice cream all but ceases to exist in the hole of Scoops Ahoy — weather, time, life.

Even though it’s closing when he leaves, Steve doesn’t realize how dark it’s gotten outside until he’s walking through the desolate parking lot to his car. The bustling mall has fallen asleep with the rest of the town. The sky has long turned to a navy velvet, the stars and full moon bright white silk.

It makes his limbs heavy and his eyelids heavier as his tired bones ache for rest.

Steve makes the longer drive out to the cabin rather than his own home to see you. Hopper’s out for some conference which means El gets to spend every ounce of her time at the Wheeler’s and you and Steve get to play house.

He doesn’t bother to knock before he comes in. He shuffles through the entrance like his feet are made of lead and leans his weight against the door after he clicks it closed.

The sound of his arrival gets your attention from where you scurry around the kitchen. A smile pulls slowly at your face as you turn over your shoulder to look at him, placing a cover over a pot of something that smells like your infamous chicken alfredo.

“Hey, Stevie,” you greet with a beam and a sort of sunshine in your voice that Steve’s been missing all day.

His body relaxes for the first time since he got up this morning at the sight of you, freshly showered and in your pajamas for the night — an oversized t-shirt that definitely didn’t belong to you before, because it used to be his.

You look more like home than any four walls could ever be to him.

Steve tries his best to give you a smile in return, but it’s weighed down by fatigue and not all there.

You can see it all over him, every ounce of exhaustion on his lax and tired features. Slinging ice cream for less than grateful customers for ten hours straight has taken an obvious toll on him. The bright blue sailor’s uniform makes him look more boyish, but no less tired — or hot.

Your heart swells at how cozy he looks, fatigued and warmed and in dire need of being taken care of. It makes you glad that you started dinner earlier than normal, even happier that you’ve got the house to yourselves.

You exit the kitchen and walk the short distance to him, taking his scruffy cheeks in your palms and rubbing your thumbs against his cheeks.

“Hard day?” you wonder softly and smile to himself when you feel Steve nestle further into your touch.

The boy hums lowly in reply — neither a yes or a no, but a short hmph that means he doesn’t want to talk about it now. He doesn’t like thinking about work when you’re in his arms and all over him. He’d rather pretend like you’re the only thing that exists and let the rest of the world slip slowly away.

He turns his face to kiss the inside of your wrists. You smell like lavender, he finds, and it makes him that much more tired and needy for you.

His hands settle on your arms, fingers wrapping themselves just below your wrists. “Just tired,” he answers finally. “How was your day?”

“Better than yours, I’m assuming,” you quip with a smile. Your hands drag from his face, down the tense columns of his neck, and settle at the white lapel of his uniform. Steve lets you pull him down by his red neckerchief until his lips press against yours, the pillows of them far cozier than the bed and blanket he so craves right now.

He grows somehow heavier against you. He exhales deeply through his nose as his aching muscles start to relax, the warmth of it brushes against your cupid’s bow. His hands fall to your back and ball into your shirt as he clutches so ardently onto you, as though terrified he might have to go another agonizing ten hours without you.

Your smile contorts against his mouth. A laugh exhales sharply through your nose at this tired boy, exhausted and too willing to let you swallow him whole.

As much as you want to take care of you him, you want him to get a little food in his belly and fresh clothes on his skin.

He’s got freshly laundered cottons sitting in a drawer you cleaned out in your room especially for him and a pot of his favorite food simmering on the stove. He’ll be golden in an hour or more and you’ll happily take care of him then.

Steve whines when you pull away from him. The pathetic sound bubbles from his throat and his face screws up like you’ve actually pained him by not kissing him more. He ducks down, looming over you, as his lips chase yours.

You giggle at him, letting him kiss you — one, two, three quick pecks and a fourth sweeter, more drawn-out one he presses against you as the two of you stumble back into the living room.

“You need to eat first, okay?” you protest when you part from him again, lips clicking wetly as they separate. “You probably haven’t had anything all day.”

“I had half a banana in the break room at lunch,” he retorts, half-heartedly.

“Exactly,” you scold. “Go get changed and then we can eat, ‘kay?”

“If you wanted to see me naked so bad, you could’ve just said.”

You roll your eyes at him and how he’s still so sly despite being so damn tired. You push playfully against his chest and squirm out from under where he’d cornered you between his body and the back of the couch. “You smell like a sundae and cheap cologne—”

“Blame those assholes from Abercrombie.”

“—hit the showers, Harrington,” you tell him with a playful sternness, swatting him on the ass as you pass by him.

The action stopped surprising him a long time ago. He’d complained relentlessly about corporate and the stupid outfit they made him wear to work every morning until he realized how much you liked it.

After that, Steve figured he could put up with the itching and the chaffing and the weird stares from other mall-goers. As long as it meant you being unable to keep your hands off of him, dropping to your knees in front of him before he left for work, visiting him at lunch because you just had to see him again.

“You comin’ too, or…?” he jokes in reply, already inching towards the bathroom, but secretly hoping you’ll say yes.

You refuse to amuse him, though, and instead tell him that you have to keep stirring the pasta so it won’t burn. He’s too tired and too excited to wash all the muck of the long workday from his body to beg.

You knew just what he needed — like you always do. He’s as good as gold by the time he gets out of the shower, smelling of your shampoo and practically glittering at how good he feels.

His skin gets to breathe for the first time all day when he slips on a pair of boxers and a faded forest green Hawkins High sweatshirt. They’re freshly washed. He can tell by how soft they feel and the way they smell of fresh detergent.

It makes his heart swell.

While he’s been slinging ice cream and questioning all of his life choices, you’ve been washing his clothes, folding them and putting the in their own drawer in your dresser. You’ve been cooking him his favorite dinner, knowing he hasn’t eaten all day, because you know everything about him.

You do it all because you love him. You don’t have to think twice about it before you so effortlessly take care of him.

He swears you’ll feed him if he begs hard enough, but Steve hasn’t reached that level of tiredness yet. He does, however, force you to sit halfway in his lap while the both of you opt to eat on the couch in the living room rather than the kitchen table.

A repeat of Miami Vice plays on the tiny television across the room and you tell him about what you’d done on your day off in between shoveling forkfuls of pasta into your mouth with your legs slung into his lap.

Most of it was spent taking care of chores, a feat made harder without Hopper and El to take on the extra workloads but easier because their absence meant less shit to get done.

You drove Dustin and Lucas to the Wheeler’s house later that morning, then doubled back across Hawkins when Max called and all but begged you to free her from the hellscape on Cherry Lane, as she so lovingly put it. You picked her up and dropped her off with the rest of her friends.

And even though they all swore they had rides back home, they’d called again some hours later and asked too sweetly if you could take them back across town.

You complain and grumble about it, but you do it for them anyway.

Because you take care of people. That’s just what you do.

“So you were a personal chauffeur for a bunch of kids all day?” Steve jokes and laughs to himself as he swipes a smudge of alfredo sauce from your chin with his thumb

“Basically,” you nod in reply.

When that’s all done — and the episode is over and the dishes are in the sink and your teeth are freshly brushed — you tell Steve to get into bed, and then to get his head out of the gutter at the look he gives you after.

He’s pleasantly surprised when you bring a whole basket of things from the bathroom and into your bedroom. He watches silently, obediently, as you light a candle on the far side of the room before climbing into bed beside him.

“Scoot down a little,” you tell him. “And take off your shirt.”

He does it all without question. He rises, strips himself of his top, and tosses the thing mindlessly on the floor beside the bed. With his lean torso and bare chest on display, spotted with tufts of chestnut-colored hair and smelling of your body wash, he lazes back onto the bed again with his head on the pillows.

Steve holds his breathe when you straddle his chest.

“Comfy?” you ask him quietly.

He can only nod in response.

His eyes are wide, twinkling with love and curiosity. It makes you smile. He’s always so soft in his way, so compliant with you — and, fuck, if you don’t love how he looks when he’s underneath you.

You lean down to press a chaste kiss to the chiseled tip of his nose then reach for one of the many bottles stacked inside the wicker basket. You drip the rose-scented liquid onto a cottonpad and tell him that it’s cleanser.

“I thought I was already clean?” he retorts.

“Well, this shit is gonna make ya glow like a baby, Harrington,” you tell him and swipe the stuff up and down his face — across his forehead, along his nose, and around his stubbly jaw. “Which means it’s perfect for you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Means you’re a baby,” you quip once, then smile lovingly down at him. “My baby,” you correct.

“Damn straight,” he hums with a soft smile, then shuts his eyes when you trade the cleanser for what you call a liquid exfoliator. He doesn’t ask what that means. He doesn’t say much of anything really, because he’s enamored with the way you dote on him.

Your day has been just as busy as his, maybe not as mind-numbing, but still busy. You’ve been bouncing all across town, trying to make sure a bunch of kids weren’t putting themselves in total danger — Steve knows firsthand how hard that can be.

And yet, you keep caring for him, like it’s more important than how tired you must be.

The way you’ve settled on top of him is just a bonus. It’s not as domineering as you usually are in this position, straddling your legs over him and forcing his face between your legs with your fingers tangled in his hair. He wouldn’t have minded if that’s what you’d done in the first place. He would’ve thanked you for it, really.

It’s comforting more than it is anything, the subtle weight of you on top of him, keeping him grounded.

You rub something that feels like lotion into his skin. The tips of your fingers massage his face — they dig softly into his temples, relieving all the strain there, then trace around his curve of his jaw. Steve sighs and melts into your touch. It makes you laugh.

“Look at you,” you giggle, all soft like the moonlight streaming in rays from the windows. Then you tease him. “My baby’s gettin’ all pampered tonight, huh?”

“That stuff smells really good,” he notes. “Think it’s safe enough to taste?”

You know he’s joking, but you flick him in the center of his freshly moisturized forehead anyway, when his tongue darts out the side of his mouth to lick around his lips.

“You’re such an idiot,” you scold with a laugh. “There’s no way we’re gonna be able to have a kid if you keep acting like one, Steve Harrington.”

The boy's eyes fly open. “…A kid?” he repeats in something short of a whisper.

You only hum in reply with a little shrug like you’re trying to play it all off. Like you didn’t just drop the biggest bomb on him and left him to pick up the pieces. Like it isn't the sweetest goddamn thing he’s ever heard in his life (even though you are sort of making fun of him).

“You want a kid with me?” he presses, eyes sparkling and full of hope.

“‘Course I do,” you shrug again, focusing on capping the moisturizer and putting it away rather than meeting his intense gaze. “Want anything and everything with you, Stevie.”

The boy doesn’t bother to hide the grin your words put on his face. He’s all but beaming from where he lays beneath you, trying to make sure he’s still breathing because his heart has started to flutter something fierce.

It was something the two of you only ever talked about in passing — usually him bringing up the idea of having kids and you swatting them all down.

“We’re too young,” you tell him. “We’re too broke”, “we’re too dumb.” The occasional “my dad is literally in the next room, he’ll kill you if he hears you talking like that” shuts him up real quick.

But here you are now, telling him you want a baby with him, that you want everything with him. It drives him absolutely insane.

“Yeah?” he hums in response, idle hands rising and settling upon your bare thighs, rubbing at the smooth skin there, petting you almost. The room gets suddenly and unbearably hot with the look he gives you, innocent and knowing and hungry.

You feel him shift from underneath you, the hardening cock in his boxers making it hard to stay as comfortable as he had been.

“You wanna be a mommy, honey?” he all but coos. “Wanna take care of our kids like you take care of me?”

Though his words set a fire in the pit of your stomach, the tone of them makes you roll your eyes. It’s like flipping a light switch when it comes to Steve. It takes next to nothing to turn him into a puddle of mush.

He’s always raring to go when it comes to you, and you’d be lying if you said it was totally invigorating.

“What happened to my sweet, sleepy, baby Stevie, huh?” you tease, hands leaving his face to caress the ones he’s got resting on your thighs. “Thought you were too tired?”

He shakes his head defiantly. “Never too tired for you.”

“I’m supposed to be taking care of you,” you scold with bubbly laughter when you feel his large hands trail up your legs. His finger falls beneath your shirt, the tips of them sneaking into the rounded hems of your underwear, all but cupping your ass to drag you further up his chest.

He’s practically salivating at the mere thought of tasting you. Of knowing that the only thing separating you from him is a couple of inches and the thin fabric of your underwear.

He knows that when he slides them to the side, you’ll be wet and needing him underneath, slick enough for his tongue to slip right in.

And, truth be told, oral sex wasn’t the easiest when you weren’t alone. It was too precarious of a position. If Hopper knocked on the door and barged in hardly a moment later, you needed to break away quickly.

So when your dad and little sister were home, it was easier to use your hands to get each other off. And, maybe, if Steve was real good, you’d let him fuck you.

But his mouth on you? There wasn’t enough good he could be for you to let him do that, not when your father was on the other side of the door in the living room. Because you’re pretty sure death would be easier than your dad catching Steve Harrington giving cunnilingus to his daughter. You’re pretty sure you’d die on the spot, anyway.

But Hopper is miles away. Your sister is on the other side of town. And you’re alone with your boyfriend, hidden away in a cabin in the middle of the woods. It’s the perfect recipe for the best sex of your life.

“Don’t care,” Steve murmurs, pressing kisses to the inner parts of your thigh when he settles you more intently over his shoulders. “Wanna make you feel good.”

“Yeah?” you croon. From below you, the boy notes the arched brow and knowing glint in your eye that usually means trouble. “Daddy wants to make mommy feel good, huh?”

Steve knows exactly why you said it. Why you chose to say it like that. It’s the same reason you brought up the kid thing in the first place. Because you knew it would drive him crazy.

And it’s not like you ever had to try to make him mental, all you really had to do was walk into a room and he was done for. But you didn’t just want to just make him go insane, you wanted to ruin him.

And you know you’ve done just that when a groan spills from his mouth and two strong hands dig rather ruthlessly into your hips. He pulls you down without warning, pressing your clothed pussy closer to his face and dragging his nose between your covered lips. A moan leaves your mouth in a heavy exhale when the tip of it nudges your clit.

“Like being called daddy, huh?” you tease through bated breaths.

Steve nods in reply as he hooks a finger through the hem of your panties and slides them to the side, putting your pretty, glistening pussy on display for him.

He was right about what he said before — you were soaked.

All but drunk on the sight of you, he presses open-mouthed kisses to your inner thigh. “Like the other thing, too,” he mumbles against your skin, like he’s hiding himself there.

“The other thing?” you question with pinched brows. The confusion ebbs like a rolling tide as you realize: “Oh. You wanna call me mommy, Stevie?” you ask with a joking lilt.

“Shut up,” he groans against you.

He’s pleasantly surprised when your hand grabs the strands of his hair like reigns, pulling him back just before he puts his mouth on your pussy. He’s even more stunned at the stern expression taking over your features, not nearly as playful as you’d been moments before.

Suddenly you’re ten feet tall, and he’s nothing more than an ant, at the mercy of your boot.

“That’s no way to talk to your mommy, is it, Stevie?”

He shakes his head with glazed over eyes. “Sorry.”

“Sorry… what?”

There is an underlying tone in your voice, something teasing and yet somehow serious all at once. It’d make him roll his eyes if he weren’t lying beneath you like this. Now, with your pussy mere inches from his face, he isn’t quite sure how to be anything but obedient.

“Sorry, mommy,” he corrects.

A flip switches and you’re smiling again. “Good boy,” you praise and it makes his cock twitch in the confines of his boxers. Your hand guides him to your pussy again.

Steve’s always been good at oral. A little too good, actually. It made you jealous sometimes, to know that his technique has been perfected over years of experience.

“All the other girls were just practice for you, honey,” he’d soothe your seething rage with a wink and a tongue shoved deep into your cunt.

You believe him now, that every other girl was just an obstacle for him to get to you, because no one’s had him like this. No one will ever have him like this.

You’re the one who’s got him on his back with his mouth on your pussy. You’re the one who’s got him calling you mommy.

And it makes you feel like a fucking giant.

He wastes little time to envelope your cunt with his mouth. You feel the muffled grunt he lets out at the tangy and familiar taste of you. His tongue pushes into your cunt, licking you with the intent of devouring you entirely. His nose presses intently against your clit, prodding the little button as you ride his face. He encourages every thrust, guiding your hips up and down his mouth.

“Fuck, Stevie,” you whine and feel him smile drunkenly against your pussy, never ceasing his assault against your sensitive skin.

Your head falls back, suddenly too heavy to hold up. Your gaze settles on the ceiling, though you’re not exactly looking at it, and moans fall from your open mouth and into the heavy air — billowing laments in the moonlight.

“You make me feel so good,” you murmur to yourself, but to him especially, knowing he turns into a ticking time bomb when he’s praised. “Always make mommy feel so fucking good, baby.”

He groans against you, and it makes your hips twitch over his face.

Your head turns and your glazed over eyes fall on the hard cock trapped in his underwear. It’s more than apparent against the thin fabric with a wet patch of precum darkening the plaid cotton. The sight of it, paired with his lips wrapped around your clit, makes you moan most pitifully.

“Fuck, Steve,” you cry. “You’re gonna make me come. Holy shit, baby— gonna come so hard in your mouth.” The promise makes Steve double his efforts against you, wanting nothing more than to taste every drop you can give him. “I’ll ride you after, 'kay? Make you come so hard you can’t see straight. Fuck. I’m so fucking close.”

You figure his muffled whine is an affirmative.

“If you make me come now, maybe I’ll let you come inside me—”

You barely get to finish your sentence before Steve’s wrapping his arms around your thighs and keeping you pressed against his face. His tongue works overtime inside of your cunt, attentively flicking against every part of your velvet walls that it can reach, while his nose nudges your clit most relentlessly.

It has you reaching your climax within seconds, hips jerking against him while his hold on you tightens. Steve only lets you go when he’s certain you’ve ridden out every inch of your orgasm.

You’re shaking and half-numb when you unfold your body from his and settle next to him on the bed. You press yourself over him as your lips swallow his, tasting yourself on his mouth that glistens with you.

Your torso is splayed over his bare one, knees digging into the mattress at his side as you arch your back to push yourself further into him.

“Was that good for you?” he mutters after you’ve pulled away, sliding the tip of your nose up and down the bridge of his.

A laugh escapes you in a sharp scoff. If he couldn’t have felt how good it was for you — after you all but writhed against him — surely he must’ve tasted it dripping like honey from your cunt.

“It’s always good,” you assure him, then murmur more quietly, “Always so good for mommy.”

You keep the promise you’d made him no more than minutes beforehand. You pull down his boxers at the same time he’s trying to get you out of your shirt, and it’s just a mess of yearning limbs until the both of you are naked.

You rub yourself over his cock a few times, getting it all slick with you in the place of lube, because you know taking him is never an easy feat. The stretch of his dick inside you is always delicious but fuck if it doesn’t burn. It’s like fire in every sense of the word, hot and filthy paired with a distant ache.

Steve lets you set the pace as you get used to his length nestled deep inside your velvet. His hands rest compliantly on your hips as you grind against him, honeyed gaze fixed on your fucked out features as you take him — brows pinched, eyes squeezed shut, bottom lip trapped between your teeth.

Then, when every inch of him is snug in your cunt and your senses return to you, you deny him of his want to touch you. Your fingers wrap around his wrists and push them into the pillow on either side of his head. “Mommy didn’t say you could touch her, did she?” you purr to him as you lean over him. He shakes his head obediently, if only it meant that you kept fucking yourself on top of him.

And you do. Most ardently.

You keep your bare chest pressed against his fuzzy one, nose-to-nose as you slide your hips over his. And even though he’s had you like this before (in this position and many others), it feels brand new every time. It’s like he’s never felt you before despite how familiar you feel.

It triggers his body into a sense of fight of flight, as though frightened he’ll never get to have you again. It leaves him fucking you like it’ll be the last time he’s inside you, every fucking time.

It never is, though — obviously. Most times he only has to wait a couple minutes or more before he gets to take you again.

But now, with his hands balled into fists beside his head and your’s braced on his chest, digging into the patch of hair there as you rock back and forth on his hard cock — the tip of it nestled deep inside of you and hitting every sweet spot that makes you keen — has left him an absolute wreck beneath you.

He’s chasing his pleasure like he’s never felt it before. Like he won’t feel it again.

“Your cock feels so good, Stevie,” you moan above him.

“‘M not gonna last long, baby,” he mutters between harsh and labored pants.

“’S okay… I want you to come,” you promise and press a too sweet kiss to his swollen, pink lips. You move your hips more intently over him. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills your bedroom. “Want you to fill me up.”

“Yeah?” he breathes out in something short of a whimper. His eyes are glassy and his brows are furrowed and it takes everything in him not to fuck up into you — because he wants to be good, he wants to be good for you.

“Yeah… Want you come in me… Fuck me until it takes,” you babble over top of him, knowing exactly what it’s doing to the whining boy beneath you. “Wanna give you a baby— fuck— I wanna make you a daddy, Stevie.”

A whine spills from his throat. His toes curl into the fabric of your comforter, eyes rolling back into his head, body tensing as he digs his fingers into the skin of his palms that still ache to touch you.

Your name spills from his mouth along with a string of curses and pretty little cries when he stuffs you full of his come.

You happily accept every load he shoots into you as work him through every aftershock of his orgasm. Yours doesn’t come so easy — you roll your hips over yourself and rub your clit until you’re twitching right along with him.

You come down from your highs together with a tender softness. You lay over him, one hand combing through his curls and the other stroking softly at his sweat-slicked bicep. You watch with heavy eyes as his orgasm rolls over him.

His chest rises and falls with every heavy breath, stuttering when another pang of pleasure hits him all of a sudden. “Fuck,” he whines harshly into the heavy air.

He’s happy you don’t deny him when his arms wrap around your waist, hands rubbing up and down the expanse of your slick back.

You press tiny kisses to his face as he comes down — his nose, his cheeks, his forehead his stubbly chin and jaw. You press one, two, three pecks to his lips before you slide off of him, then laugh when he whines.

You’re gone for hardly more than three minutes, but to Steve, it feels like an eternity’s gone by.

You return from the bathroom, wiped freshly clean, and blow out the nearly burnt-out candle on your dresser before you slither back into his side. One of his arms curls beneath your shoulders to pull you closer to him with his other rests on the back of yours that’s settled on his chest.

You share one pillow, noses inches away from one another’s, while you bask in the warm moment and the sex-coated air around you before you have to break it.

“You know I’m still on the pill, right?” you ask him.

He nods.

“And that we’re—”

“Way too young to have a kid right now?” he finishes for you, though the idea makes him sad. He nods.

“Yeah… And—”

“Too broke? I know that too.”

“Also my—”

“Your dad would kill me if I got you pregnant?”

It makes you laugh. You hadn’t realized you’d talked about having kids this many times — at least, not enough for him to memorize all the reasons why it’s not the best idea right now.

“Yeah, I know it’s not happening any time soon,” Steve says with a sigh. “I like to pretend, though. Plus, it’s not even about that to me, you know? I just… I just like being with you and… everything.”

Everything, you repeat to yourself. A word that means so much and nothing at all.

No one knows what everything means, they just know that it’s a lot, a whole lot. That’s what makes it so special. Steve wants it all with you — the overbearing dad, the sister with powers, the teenage kids who never let you have a single second to yourselves when they’re around.

It’s a lot sometimes, most times, but he’ll weather it all with you.

“You like being with me?” you echo just to see him nod.

He does. “I love being with you,” he corrects.

“Love calling me mommy, too, huh?”

He realizes then, the sincere moment was just a set-up for that stupid joke. He groans and flops his head back on the pillow, but makes no move to distance himself from you.

“Oh, my god,” he moans in annoyance. “Am I gonna have to deal with this the rest of my life?”

You nod. “Sorry, Harrington, but I’m never letting that shit go.”

Good, he thinks to himself, even though he pretends to hate it because it makes you laugh. He never wants you to stop.

#published by bug #stranger things x reader #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington smut #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fic #stranger things imagine #steve harrington #stranger things #stevie oneshot #st oneshots

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candiid-caniine · 1 year

Text

tips for denial sluts: you could always be dumber

if you're like me, you might have started your denial journey solo or solo-ish. you're unowned, or your better/s haven't gotten with the program: that you're better off edged.

it can be hard to put yourself in your place. or maybe the reason it's hard is that we're just not smart enough? just too dumb to comprehend what our betters would want from us, or how to degrade ourselves! but we could always be dumber. here are some tips!

body language - don't be shy~ show off how desperate you are! edge in humiliating positions. you probably already do it with your legs spread, or upright, humping something soft. start small if you're too embarrassed! just spread your legs a little wider, maybe. push out your tits or ass, whichever one always gets you more attention. then from there...try it on your knees. imagine looking up at someone stronger than you, smarter than you, and, well, once that thought's in your head, it's amazing how natural it becomes to present yourself even more. you'd bow down to someone like that, wouldn't you? you just wouldn't be able to stop! plant your face in the mattress and lift your ass up. beg with your holes. and then if you're not already on the floor...get there. stay 💕

words have power (level 1) - you probably feel stupid at first using mantras. maybe that's because you are stupid 💕 and there's nothing wrong with that! a simple "good pets don't cum" is a good starter. keep going with that until you're doing it without thinking, until it's leaking into your dreams while you leak into your sheets~ then try "edged is better." words have power 💜 change your mindset. practice enough that you don't have to think about it. in fact, try, "i don't wanna cum, i wanna be dumb." you may never get through it without blushing; that's okay, our betters tend to like that 😉

dress appropriately - are you one of the sluts who gets naked to edge, or are you a needy whore who can't be bothered to undress before you put your hand down your pants and get to work? either way, it's worth being more mindful of your presentation~ try edging through your underwear until you get a wet spot 💕 embarrassing how it sticks to your skin as you pull it off, isn't it? or if you have tits, pull your clothes up above them without taking them off. maybe hold them in your teeth. do the same with your pants and underwear - not naked, just exposed. those are the most important parts of you, after all ❤️ or change it up: put on the sluttiest outfit you can find or make. cutting holes in some clothes to show just your tits and holes is easy!

words have power (level 2): start begging, dummy 💕 it doesn't matter if it's for things you don't actually want. try "please don't let me cum." or "please don't make me cum." you feel stupid at first, but soon you're tacking on "pleasepleasepleaseplease" like the good pet you are~ then give a good argument to your imaginary betters. something like, "i want to be your needy little slut. i want you to keep me denied so i don't have to think."

punish yourself - if you're already at this stage, you probably love degrading yourself huh? you love being humiliated. you love the idea that you're naughty for even thinking about cumming, or pathetic for being a denial toy. so punish yourself~ clothespins are cheap. try one on your tongue. drool a little. or put them on your nipples~ if you're still edging with your ass up, they'll rub against the floor. or every time you edge, put one on your clit/tdick, if you have one. start with 5 spanks to the cunt or ass after your first edge, then add another for each edge after that. that sucks, doesn't it? but i bet it won't keep you from edging for hours anyway 💕

bonus round: push your limits~ what's the worst thing you can think of being made to do for a better? licking their asshole? pissing yourself? drinking their piss? painal? a tit-whipping? beg for that while you edge. make your brain associate the pleasure of desperation with your hardest soft limits. imagine how impressed they'll be to hear you say "please piss in my mouth, pleasepleaseplease~" soon you'll find yourself rambling, adding on the reasons why you want it...and you do want it, all of a sudden. or, are there words that you can barely say because they're humiliating or cringey to you? words like mommy, daddy, cummies, master, doggy? start saying them. address your betters by the title that most embarrasses you to say. address yourself the same. or is it a tone of voice? you don't like saying "pwease?" go with that one. if all else fails, limit yourself to animal sounds. bark instead of begging. meow when you're getting close. do the things you hate to love, and it'll all come naturally 💕

#nsftext #t4t nsft #0rgasm denial #denial #h/d #dizzy #tw: piss #only barks

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hitomisuzuya · 10 months

Note

Hi suzu!! I’m so glad you feel better 😭😭

Diving into your requests bc the way you wrote the Diluc virginity fic was SO GOOD and I was wondering if you’d be down to do one for wanderer too 👀👀 LOVE AND APPRECIATE U ALWAYS - ww after dark

Wanderer x Virgin!fem!reader. Smut. Some slight degradation. Cunilligus. Soft smut at first.

Hello, dear ❤️ I wrote this extra love and affection. Thanks so much for all your support. I really appreciate it. I hope you enjoy. I will write for you anytime.

Wanderer's hands were gentle on your body, his fingers brushing featherlight between your thighs before he gently caressed them. You shivered, goosebumps raising on your skin.

He smirked up at you with approval as he nudged his nose against your clit, swirling his tongue slowly around the swelling nub. If he had it his way, and he would because he always got what he wanted, you would always shiver from his touches.

Especially tonight.

It was your first time. Wanderer couldn't have pinned you down onto the bed fast enough when you said you were ready. That you wanted, no, you needed him. All of him.

Of course he had waited patiently for you to say you were ready. Consent was important to him, which was a given considering he had gotten little chance to consent to anything in the past.

It was taking everything he had not to totally dominate you right where you lay. What could he say, he was a selfish guy. But he knew he could be overwhelming, and that was the last thing he wanted to do.

Your back arched off the bed, whimpering in a way that was starting to drive him crazy as you pushed his face down onto your cunt. "Please, Scara," You squirmed underneath him, bucking your hips into his mouth.

Wanderer laughed softly into your cunt. "Already begging for me. What a whore," He sighed in bliss, sucking on your clit. It took him a moment to realize what he had done.

He froze, looking up at you, hoping that he hadn't just blown all of this straight to hell. He wouldn't blame you in the slightest if you pushed him away right now.

Instead, he was delighted by your reaction. You looked down at him with flushed cheeks. "Do that again," You said, making a pleasant shiver dance up his spine.

"Hmm?" Wanderer purred, vibrating it on your clit before giving it a few appreciative suckes. "You like being called a whore?" He didn't think his smirk could've gotten any wider.

He'd always known you were one in a million. A rare find. And this only proved it even more.

You cried out, tugging on his hair, grinding needily into his mouth. "Y-yes, if it's you calling me that."

Wanderer laughed softly, his fingers spider walking up your thighs to your hips, gripping them a little tighter as he held your cunt against his mouth. "What a whore," He enjoyed the way your cheeks flushed darker, whimpering when your walls clamped empty around nothing.

He swirled his tongue between your walls, wanting to hear you cry out louder for him before he sat up and wiped his mouth. Crawling up your body, he lined his leaking, hard cock up with your entrance.

Placing a soft kiss on your lips, he looked down at you checking to see if it was okay. You nodded, hooking a leg over his hip to urge the head up of his cock inside of you.

"Fuck me, Scara," You pleaded. He moaned huskily, reaching down to rub your clit as he pushed himself slowly inside of you. You wrapped your arms around him, your body tensing in pain for a few moments before you relaxed.

His cock throbbed with anticipation, waiting patiently for you to adjust. You wrapped one leg around him, rolling your hips up to let him know you were okay.

Wanderer's thrusts were slow, and gentle, gradually kissing your sweet spot in a way that made your head spin as you writhed beneath him. You clung to him, cry out louder and louder for him with each thrust.

"Scara, Scara, Scara," You chanted his name like a mantra, the knot of your orgasm starting to tighten, threatening to burst. "Harder, please. Faster," You were babbling by this point.

Archons, you've never looked sexier to him than you did right now (you had, plenty of times but he was getting swept up in the moment). His hips suddenly snapped into yours, his hold on your hip turning possessive.

Wanderer hissed in pleasure, his body quivering when you walls clamped consistently around his cock. Hearing you start to choke back sobs of pleasure, he knew you were close.

And so was he.

He reached down to rub your clit to user in your orgasm faster. He wanted to hear you scream in pleasure for him when you cummed hard on his cock. But he needed to know one important thing first.

"Can I cum inside of you?" He groaned, feeling his cock throb with impending release.

"Mmm-ah-please!" You cried out, bucking your hips needily, no desperately up into his, "cum inside of me."

Your words sent him reeling, his hips snapping almost mindlessly into yours as he leaned down to capture your lips in a passionate, open mouthed kiss.

Your scream of pleasure against his mouth never sounded sweeter, your body convulsing slightly as the knot of your orgasm snapped apart, sending your release to gush over his cock.

His fingers never left your clit, nursing you through your orgasm until his cum painted your walls for the first time. You felt your cheeks heat when some of his cum leaked out onto your thighs.

His teeth nipped at your lower lip. "You look so cute when you are intimately embarrassed," He teased, his hips slowing to a stop when your walls no longer fluttered around his cock.

You put your a hand on his cheek, nuzzling your cheek against his neck. "Please tell me we aren't done," You gazed up at him expectedly, your eyes hazy and cloudy in a fucked out expression that was breathtaking to him.

Wanderer wasted no time thrusting his cock back inside of you, especially when you said, "Don't hesitate to be a little rougher with me."

#genshin impact #genshin smut #fem!reader #genshin imagines #scaramouche #scaramouche smut #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche x you #scaramouche x y/n #soft scaramouche #wanderer #wanderer smut #wanderer x y/n #wanderer x you #wanderer x reader #soft wanderer

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lolasimms · 1 year

Note

do you think wife!abby loves sleepy, loving sex with mumbled words and slow movements? ♡

Sleepy lovemaking with Abby

౨ৎ I always head-canon that Abs is a doctor, so she works very long and tiring hours.

౨ৎ Therefore I believe that sex with the two of you is very sporadic and spur of the moment.

౨ৎ It’s usually early mornings before she’s off to work, or late nights when you’re both half asleep.

౨ৎ You both love that soft, sleepy and loving sex. Where you’re both aware of what’s happening, but also dazed out.

—౨ৎ—

You stirred a bit, adjusting your pillow so you were sleeping on a cooler. Behind you, the feeling of Abby’s toned chest pressing against you, slowly roused you from your slumber. Her touch was then followed by wet kisses she’d began planting against your neck and jaw.

“You up, baby?" she whispered against your ears.

"Mmhmm." You groaned silently, not ready to be awoken just yet, a quick glance at the alarm clock by the bed displayed that it was 3:20 am.

She hummed at your reply, inching beneath the soft satin sleep shirt you wore, her thick fingers slowly coming to close over your breast, gently kneading the flesh there with her hand. The feeling of her fingers teasing your nipple made you shiver; a soft moan escaped your lips. You could feel her soft breaths against your neck, as she did so.

The feeling of her touch disappeared for a few seconds, the only sound in the room was her rummaging through the bedside table. You knew what she was retrieving, so you waited patiently.

Once she had gotten what she needed, her hands worked quickly, to find the waistband of your pyjama shorts. She tugged them down along with your underwear, not stopping until they were completely off your body. She then shoved her plaid boxers past her hips, slipping them down her legs. Quickly she put on the strap as you took it upon yourself to swipe everything off of the bed. You moaned as you felt the cold silicone come in contact with your back.

"Can I slip inside, baby?" She asked, her warm fingers gliding effortlessly along your slit before dipping inside and glazing over the sensitive bundle of nerves there.

"Abs," you breathed. "Mmm....yes."

You craned your neck to the side, desperate to find her lips and she obliged, moving to kiss you deeply as she plunged two fingers inside of you, her mouth muffling the moans she was drawing out of you.

She chanted your name like a mantra. "You feel so good." She said, groaning softly against your ear. "Needed this cunt so bad, s’all I could think about."

She removed her fingers, leaving you empty. You stifled your whine, opting to push back, grinding yourself against her in a sort of protest. You heard the soft clicks of a bottle opening and closing. Lube. You could feel Abby slicking her strap up before her fingers dipped into your cunt again. You brought your knees up as she pressed against you, making for a better angle, and then she was pushing in slowly. You both gasped at the feeling.

Your bodies moved together, perfectly in sync, beneath the covers. Her hips rocking into you, her hands on your hip guiding you down onto her. Soft pants escaped your lips as you struggled to be quiet, both relishing feeling so close to the other. It had been almost two weeks without feeling each other like this, and the both of you were clearly starved of each others touch.

She was sucking hot kisses against the side of your neck, babbling words of love. She felt impossibly deep inside of you, but you needed her closer. You needed more. You were grinding on her strap, while your moans muffled out of you and into the pillowcase.

"Abby," you said breathlessly.

"It’s okay baby." She gasped. "You can take it."

You were both so close to your release. You let your fingers find your clit as she pulled you down onto her strap, groaning as you whimpered ever so softly, trying your best not to make a sound. Your cunt squeezed against her strap so tightly as you came, sending Abby’s body driving into you even more before she followed with her own climax close behind.

#abby anderson x female reader #abby anderson x you #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson fic #abby anderson x y/n #abby anderson headcanons

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shunxaii · 18 days

Text

— ★ kamisato ayato ″

x male!clanhead!dendrouser!reader

library ! games shelf !

🐧 title : i'll learn

it was an arranged marriage. for the better of their people. for the better of their clans. a union to fortify.

to build connections.

while kamisato ayato is in charge of the yashiro commission, the shuumatsuban, and komore teahouse, l/n y/n was in charge of the trading connections and facilities—owned by his mother— between nations. the many branches of restaurants his family owned and mizu inn in inazuma were also under his management.

the l/n family was known for their status all around sumeru. it's where they lived after all. however, after the marriage arrangements that has been discussed for many years, y/n, the only child, was sent to inazuma with only book knowledge.

in his years of living, he has only ever done what he's been told. training to be the perfect clan head? done. being shipped away to another nation? done. marrying someone he doesn't know? done. just for his clan. for the people that depended on him.

so why? why was his hand shaking? his breathing faltering. his steps hesitating. "it's only an arrangement." the words that left ayato's mouth made his heart crack. just a bit.

what did he expect? how could he?

how could he fall for his charming persona? his misleading words? his refined and gentlemanly actions? his eyes that conveyed genuineness...? how could he fall so hard, yet so foolishly?

he was a stranger to inazuma, he will remain a stranger.

unlike the traveler, who never failed to bring out a smile on ayato's face.

she was a new tide that could shake the vision hunt decree. a new flicker of hope of abolishing it. and she did. much to everyone's relief and comfort.

"you're right... but i hope we don't end in estrangement...?" y/n carried hope with him, but also a sense of duty. he set aside his feelings, putting his duty before anything else.

if ayato couldn't like him back, he'll do this because it's what benefits both clans.

on the day of the wedding, it was private, with only their families and some friends attending. as they presented their vows to each other, y/n couldn't help but watch as ayato's eyes drifted anywhere but to him. flittering over lumine's figure, who was at the very back, every once in a while.

"...because it is my duty."

his own words haunted him that night. his own words that he memorized and rehearsed so many times. it was his mantra. why did be put it in his vows? because it was true.

their days together in the ayato's estate were awkward. they didn't talk to each other until day three and they didn't eat with each other until two weeks later.

over time, they had gotten used to each other. offering smiles here and there. sharing a few fleeting moments during mornings before they parted their ways, off to their offices.

it had become a routine at this point.

"you can go and find someone that suits your interest," ayato's voice carried over the table. they were having supper. they did this often. holding casual conversations over random things.

y/n halted in his movements. the feelings he swore to bury resurfacing. "i could never choose to love another." his firm statement surprised ayato, making place his fork down.

"are you sure? i don't want to hold you back from a life you could live," his words were genuine, tender almost. in some ways, it eased y/n's mind that ayato was thinking about his welfare.

"i love you, that's why i could never."

ayato has heard this many times. he just could never reciprocate it. his heart aches for y/n. "maybe one day..." he smiled gently towards his husband, "i could learn to love you... too."

after a few more weeks of hushed conversations, y/n had to leave for liyue. to make more connections and to meet with the wangsheng funeral parlor's director. miss hu tao.

y/n departed with a promise. despite the distance, he never plans to find another. despite the distance, he would send letters that strengthened their trust. despite the distance, he'll love him everyday until the ends of the earth and until death.

as promised, ayato received a letter daily. an update of the day before, some words that warmed his heart, and things y/n wanted to try out with him.

it continued for three weeks, until it all stopped.

he waited at the post office the next few days. nothing.

he waited for thoma to come into his office with a letter for a week. nothing.

did he find someone else? did he love another? did he not want to keep his promise anymore? what happened? did the distance tire him?

many questions plagued his mind as he worked. his eyes drifted towards the pendant y/n left him. he put his papers down and reached for the fragile thing. he placed it to his lips, closing his eyes as he felt the cool metal.

"please... where are you? what are you doing? are you doing alright? why have you stopped? please..."

a tear escaped. "i love you. i love you too."

it wasn't until another month later did he get another letter from liyue. it wasn't from y/n, but someone named zhongli.

to the head of clan kamisato,

once this has reached you, it would have been too late. a letter as ordinary as this could take weeks, even a month to be handed into your office. i have no knowledge of the ties that bind you to dear l/n, but a wedding band engraved with your name.

l/n y/n has gone into an unconscious state, his waking is unknown as of the moment. once this letter reaches to you, he is expected to have recovered. we do not know to what extent this damages his health, but we await for your arrival.

how fast his letters reach you, we now know.

his friend, zhongli.

ayato knew one thing. he would send in a written request to have the mail sorters interviewed and changed immediately.

he boarded his clan's ship and set sail to liyue, leaving his work pending.

after a grueling day of anxiety, he rushed to the address of the hostel. there at the lobby he met with zhongli, who looked a bit surprised to see him. though the surprise faded into sorrow. "kamisato ayato, head of the kamisato clan. i welcome you to liyue, the nation of contracts. though, we could have met in better circumstances... follow me."

zhongli led him into a long hallway, skipping numerous doors before they stopped in front of the last one just beside a window. "he has only awoken a week ago and has been having troubles with his memory and emotions. he cannot remember a lot of things. please know how to pace yourself."

with that, he opened the door into a spacious room. ayato bowed his head and stepped inside. zhongli bid him a farewell, shut the door, and gave them privacy.

the wooden floor creaked under his shoes, the table in the corner had new wilted petals on them from falling from the equally wilted flowers in the vase displayed in the middle. why haven't you brought life to them using your vision? cream curtains framed the windows, shedding in light to warm the room from the cold temperature from the night before. a lone bookshelf was beside the door, containing few books and more potted and vine-like plants.

then there was y/n. sitting up on the bed, reading a book about the history of inazuma. why? he has read that already and memorizes the places and their historical background by heart.

the bed he was on was average, it was good for its use, but did it provide comfort?

"y/n... darling?" ayato spoke softly, heart picking up pace. he sat on the bed beside his husband's covered legs. said male peeked over the book in his hands.

shame washed over his features. sorrow filled his eyes. guilt overcame his thoughts. his throat clogged up. his mouth felt dry. his body felt stiff. "i'm... sorry..." he croaked out. "i don't know how it turned out this way..."

ayato's eyebrows pinched together. "what do you mean?"

"i..." y/n bit his lip, slowly lowering his book. ayato's eyes widened. it's like a smile was carved into the once clear skin of his husband. two line reaching out to his cheekbones. "i look ugly."

y/n lowered his head in insecurity. mind jumbled. "i... i can't remember much."

ayato's heart wrenched. he held y/n's cold and lone hand. "well... what do you remember?" his voice was warm. as warm as y/n's heart remembered, but not his mind. ayato's voice was patient, not demanding. not like the practitioner who pushed him to remember.

"i remember meeting you for the first time... how your eyes twinkled when we went on the date our parents set up. i remember my training... as a child. the expectations..." y/n droned on, his face sinking. all he remembered is memories that didn't have him smiling in them, aside from the first date. "i remember fatui agents ambushing us... abducting me... one of them did this to my face and everything else... it's a blur." why did they go for his face? why was everything blank after that?

his life was dull and painful in a way. full of learning. was he that boring?

"i remember you saying that whatever we have is only an arrangement..." y/n's voice faded into silence. his heart unknowingly ached.

ayato neared y/n, "what do you feel about me now?"

"i did this out of duty... i don't know what to feel about you... am i supposed to?" y/n's words stung. where did all the love go? why did his voice sound like it's been rehearsed? "did i love you?"

ayato lifted y/n's hand and pecked its knuckles, "oh, the many times you've told me." his heart ached. he didn't know what to do. was this a consequence for realizing his love too late? or for learning to love too late... he didn't know which. to realize or to learn?

"i love you, y/n. until the ends of the earth, until death... despite the distance. despite the hardships and pain. i love you, please..." ayato's voice threatened to crack. it faltered and shook.

his chin was tilted up, his eyes connecting with ones full of comfort and understanding. "please wait for me. i'll learn. i'll learn to love you again. so please..." y/n's eyes watered, sharing the ache of the unknown with ayato. he struggled to give him a small smile, the dull pain in his cheeks blooming.

"please be patient with me."

#male reader #fanfic #fiction #genshin impact #kamisato ayato #kamisato ayato x reader #angst to fluff #angst with a happy ending

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ruyi-li · 4 months

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chapter one - through your masqurade

pairing: Luke Castellan x unclaimed afab!reader warnings: very basic mentions of a panic attack, reader may become a bit descriptive for plot reasons but over all still ambiguous, kinda slowburn Chapter one of my Two Threads of Yarn series masterlist - found here

Violence. Incessant violence fuels the world; it is a never-ending cycle. Become hurt, be hurt, cause hurt. Violence is an unquestionable human quality. A survival instinct. Be weary so you do not get hurt. This was your mantra; until one day, your heart got the better of your head.

The silver of Artemis’s chariot reflected gently off the serene waters. The cold nipped at your skin with welcome fervour as you dug your hands into the frosty, smooth pebbles. Absentmindedly, you clenched your fists. Sometimes, especially during the day, you would not feel your fingertips for your toes. Sometimes, they would become ghostly appendages, turning almost transparent. You picked up a rock. Smooth and flat and the striking colour of soot. It was dotted with fractures, scarring the surface. With a huff, you extended your arm and threw it into the lake. It hit the water, skipped once, then sank. You flexed your fingers again, clinging on to the sensation of touch. Sighing, you got up, brushing away phantom dust off your clothes, making your way back to an impersonal bunk in the Hermes cabin.

Noon rolled about the next day. The days were getting longer and the nights were getting shorter. You grimaced internally at the thought. Adorned in your usual sun-blocking attire underneath your distressed camp half blood shirt, you fixed your hair and put on a pair of battered aviators. Again, you grimaced at the brightness of the sun. Desperately praying for some form of cloud cover.

The sun stayed shining. Haughty. You picked at the food on your plate as the majority of your cabin mates got up to sacrifice a portion of their meals to the fire burning in the brazier. You had gotten used to the practice after a month or so. And after a year, you’ve accepted the hard truth. You were never going to be claimed. It wasn’t like your other cabinmates, they all had some form of parentage even though . Alabaster, was a child of Hecate while Ethan was a child of Nemesis. ‘They were claimed, even though they didn’t have cabins, they were still claimed.” Your thoughts had wandered until they had turned dark and menacing. ‘Is my mother so ashamed of me that she doesn’t even want to claim me?’ Subconsciously, a finger came to where your – otherwise normally dark hair – was marred white. It was one of the many ugly scars on your body. ‘I’m a tree,’ you thought to yourself. ‘I watch people come and go, they are a chapter to me but to them, I’m a novelty. A picture in a book, glimpsed at and tuned over. I can’t move from where my roots are. I let people hurt me and use me…’ memories of innumerable moves and innumerable fake friends flit through your mind like autumn leaves carried by the wind.

‘... I can’t move from where my roots are.”

You had not realised that you were zoned out until your gaze met with two brown eyes. A sudden chill entered your body, seeped into your veins. You had met these very same eyes multitudinous times before. And with a startelling realisation you wondered why you hadn’t seen it before. Behind a veil of serenity; Luke Castellan’s warm brown eyes were stormy. And violent.

And suddenly, there was a part of you that wanted to delve inside his mind and his thoughts and his experiences and know everything about him. Uncharacteristically, almost impulsively, you offered a smile. A stray thought dashed through your mind.

‘Maybe you and I are not so different after all’

LUKE

It was apparent today that there were always new things people were capable of. When he locked eyes – or rather tinted sunglasses – with you, a chill went down his spine. Subconsciously he could feel the weight of your gaze, and an unsettling feeling washed over him. Almost as if you could see behind his masquerade.

It unsettled him.

But at the same time, he couldn’t help but be curious; thoughts ran rampant in his head. ‘Who are you, who’s your godly parent, how did you get here, what are you doing to me…’ Luke offered a smirk in return and reluctantly turned his head back to his friends who had already sat down at the far end of the Hermes table. Away from you.

When he turned back around to glimpse at you, you were holding you left hand to your chest, re-adjusting the tinted glasses, clumsily putting on your cap and briskly walking towards the dorms – following a trail of shade offered by towering oak and birch and conifer.

#luke castellan x reader #luke castellan x you #luke castellan #pjo #pjo tv show #pjo series #pjo luke #percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #cloudy-li writes #two threads of yarn

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jinhyun · 2 years

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pairing: hwang hyunjin x reader

genre: fluff, established relationship, a very worried hyunjin who won't stop overthinking

word count: 2.1k

summary: when hyunjin forgets your birthday... but so do you.

a/n: helloo, this is a (belated) birthday present for one of my friends here, that i will not tag bc of her privacy ig lol. i know i'm one day late (although in my time zone it's only one hour past the 26th so... yeah) but i hope you enjoy regardless! thank you for being my frehn and letting me drag you down with me over whatever these idiots do<3 although you drag me down with you too but i'm not thanking you for that lmao off to the story now.

Please don't hate me, please don't hate me, please don't hate me.

Hyunjin kept repeating those words to himself like a mantra as he desperately stared out the car's window, losing it by the second over how slow it was going — even when he had already asked the driver to go faster two times before and he was sure there was no such thing as 'going faster' by this point.

He didn't know what had come over him for this to happen, especially when he had been planning your present for months in advance.

You were always the one to hype him up the most in every single aspect of his life, and when it came down to his art there was no doubt you were his biggest fan. He remembered the way tears had formed in your eyes when he showed you a painting he did of Kkami. Hyunjin had laughed quite hard back then, both blissfully and nervously, trying to hide just how shy your reaction had made him feel.

That's when he decided he wanted to give you a painting of the both of you. Only he didn't know it would be so hard to choose one picture out of all his favourite ones — which were pretty much all the pictures you had taken together throughout your relationship. And then he didn't think it would be so hard to capture the beauty of it.

He had started over more than three times, and had changed the picture another two. He had made progress, though, but he was only halfway done when Stray Kids started preparing for their next comeback. And just like that, in between all the song recording, the dance practices and the video shootings, not only had he forgotten about finishing your present, but about your birthday altogether.

The one day of the year he had wanted to make you feel the most special —even if he did that every single day he was with you—, he had forgotten about it.

He had gotten to his dorm at past 9pm in hopes of taking a shower and sleeping until the next day, only to be hit with realisation when he checked his calendar one last time before going to sleep. He didn't even think twice before he jumped out of bed and changed back into a pair of jeans and a grey hoodie, calling one of JYPE's drivers to go pick him up while he struggled to put on his shoes on his way out and a pretty worried Chan asked what the hell was going on.

He could've called you, he knew he could've. He could've come up with any excuse, or straight up told you he forgot and apologise for it, and he knew you would understand… but you deserved better. He was a better boyfriend than just to call at past nine in the night to wish you a happy birthday when he had not texted you the whole day.

He just wished he could make it to your place before midnight, so he could apologise before your birthday was done and somehow make it better.

With it being already 10:56pm and him being stuck in traffic, though, he could only start to lose hope.

Eyes fixing on his phone as he checked the time one more time —as if he hadn't done it just two minutes ago—, he sighed, not being able to stop himself from asking the driver once more to speed up and inevitably receiving a not-so-friendly look from the man over the rearview mirror, that let Hyunjin know he was indeed not speeding up anymore. He decided not to push it any further, after all, he had made him stop twice on the way to your place so he could get you your favourite cake and then your favourite chocolates. It would be better not to test his limits.

It would take thirty more minutes for him to get to your building, and another two for him to be in front of your door, as he didn't waste a single second before he rushed out of the car and ran all the way up to your floor. If the cake he had bought made it out intact, it would truly be a miracle.

Hyunjin had never been more anxious while waiting for you to open the door — having to knock on it for a second time, after a minute was enough to let his mind wander around all kinds of heartbreaking scenarios. What if you were mad? Like, really, really mad? What if you didn't want to talk to him? See him? Even worse, what if you wanted to break up?

"Hyun?" your sleepy voice from the other side of the door stopped him from overthinking any further.

Being too stunned to answer, he waited for you to open it for him. Longest four seconds of his life.

"I'm so sorry, I'm the worst boyfriend ever" he blurted out as soon as you were in front of him, ignoring the way you were tiredly rubbing your eyes and leaving everything he was carrying on the floor so he could wrap you tightly inside his arms. "I'm sorry, there's no excuse really, I've just been very busy and I forgot, which is shitty as hell but there's still half an hour left and I brought you your favourite cake so hopefully you can forgive me and—"

"Oh my God, baby, slow down" you laughed, pulling him slightly away from you and cupping his face in your hands. "What's going on?"

Hyunjin blinked in utter confusion. "W-What do you mean what's going on?"

"Yeah, why are you apologising? What did you forget?"

Hyunjin stayed silent, staring at you as he tried to figure out whether you were genuinely oblivious or you were trying to get him to admit he had forgotten about your birthday, so you could later lash out at him. He felt as if he was tiptoeing around you — whatever it was you were feeling right then, he did not want to make it worse.

"Baby?" you pushed it, gently caressing his cheeks. "What's wrong?"

"I—um," he cleared his throat, looking down before he reached down to pick up both the box of chocolates and the one containing the cake. "I brought you this…"

"Aww, these are my favourite," you gushed at the sight of the chocolates.

Pouting cutely over how cute and out of nowhere this small present of his was, you pressed a sweet kiss to his lips before your attention went to the bigger box he was holding.

"You brought a cake?" you raised your eyebrows in surprise.

"Mhm…" he nodded.

"You could've just brought me a piece, you know?" you laughed, taking the white box in your hands and finally inviting him in as the two of you made your way to the kitchen. "There is no way I'm finishing this on my own, you're taking half of it with you when you go back to the dorm".

A light laugh escaped Hyunjin's mouth, carefully testing the waters when you put the box down on the kitchen counter by coming up to you from behind and resting his chin on your shoulder. When you didn't seem to tense up at the contact —if anything, feeling your muscles relax under his touch—, he wrapped his arms around your waist ever so tenderly, pulling you to his chest and placing a soft kiss to the crook of your neck.

"I'm sorry…" he pouted.

"I still don't know what you're sorry for" you pointed out.

Hyunjin bit his bottom lip. God, he wished he could tell whether you were playing with him or not.

"You might want to open that then" he motioned to the white box, which was wrapped up in a burgundy silk ribbon that came together at the top of it.

Turning your head to look at him for a moment, you frowned, then looking down to the box and slowly untying the ribbon so you could open it. And then, when you were met by a beautiful heart-shaped cake that read 'happy birthday' on it —and which was surprisingly not a mess after Hyunjin's solo race to your place—, everything suddenly made sense.

"It's my birthday?"

Definitely not the reaction Hyunjin had expected.

"What do you mean 'it's my birthday'? Of course it's your birthday!"

"You seem way too pressed over it for someone who forgot about it, too".

"Aish, baby—don't" he defeatedly let his forehead fall to your shoulder.

Letting out a loud laugh, you managed to turn around and cup his face in your hands for a second time that night. "So this is why you were so worried?"

"Don't laugh, I thought I would lose you over this" he pouted.

"You're so cute" you giggled, softly pressing your mouth to his. "You wouldn't lose me over something as meaningless as this".

"Don't say that, your birthday is not meaningless" he frowned.

"I had to go to work like any other day and so did you," you shrugged. "Nothing special".

"But I was supposed to make it special" he pointed out. "And you're only saying this because you forgot too, otherwise you would've been hurt, even if it was a little bit".

"Okay, maybe…" you agreed. "But I would've gone to bed a little bit sad and that would've been it".

"And as your boyfriend I can't let that happen" he shook his head, letting his hands travel down to your waist. "It won't happen again, I promise".

"It's okay," you smiled, leaning in to rest your face on his chest and letting out a contented sigh when he pulled you closer. "The cake and chocolates make up for it. Thank you, Jin-ie".

"I have another present for you, though…" he mumbled. "I just wasn't able to finish it".

You pulled away in excitement, staring up at him as you waited for an answer you were sure you would not get. "What is it?!"

"You'll have to wait and see" he smirked.

"Aw, come on" you whined. "I cannot wait now that you told me".

"Too bad".

"You wanted me to forgive you for forgetting my birthday?" you raised a daring eyebrow.

Hyunjin gasped over-dramatically. "I thought you already forgave me?"

"I can revoke my forgiveness if you don't tell me".

"You're mean" he called you out. "It's a painting, and that's as much as I'm telling".

"A painting of you?" you pushed it.

"Now why would I give you a painting of me" he snorted.

"Why not?" you shrugged. "You're my favourite sight to see".

"Ugh, so cheesy" he cringed, earning a laugh from you that he was soon to follow. "There's one sight that is so much better, though".

"Mine?" you guessed.

Hyunjin laughed under his breath, leaning in to steal a kiss from you. "Okay, two sights".

You giggled. "So me and…"

"And the sight of us together" he said like it was the most obvious thing in the world, pressing his mouth to your smiling one once more.

"Narcissistic much?" you said in between kisses.

"Just telling the truth" he mumbled, smiling ever so sweetly when you were the one to pull him in for another kiss just as he was pulling away.

"Well, I do love the sight of us together" you admitted. "How come you forgot it was my birthday if you were literally making me a painting of us, though?"

"Because I'm an idiot" he sighed, feeling at ease when your laugh reached his ears. "And I got too caught up in work. But it's halfway done, I promise I'll finish it soon".

"Don't push yourself too hard, love. You can even give it to me next year if you want".

"No way, even if it's a belated present, you're getting it this year".

"Okay," you giggled, eyes travelling down to the cake next to you and then to the clock on the kitchen wall. "Well, there are still twenty minutes left of my birthday, so how about we just eat some cake and then go to bed?"

"That sounds nice," he smiled, cupping your face in his warm hands and pressing his lips to your forehead. "Happy birthday, my dummy who forgot her birthday".

"Thank you, dork who forgot my birthday" you smiled.

"Seriously, though," he laughed. "What kind of idiot forgets their own birthday?"

"At least I didn't forget yours".

His smile faltered. "You win".

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sidekick-hero · 8 months

Text

wear me like a locket around your throat

Steve has always been possessive in his relationships.

Not just in his romantic ones either, although that was where the possessiveness reared its ugly head the most. But even with his friends, Steve had always wanted to be their best friend. Their only friend, really. Before Nancy, Carol had been the only real test of his and Tommy's friendship. Tommy had been his best friend, and sharing him with Carol was not something Steve wanted to do.

So he'd made her his, too, the three of them inseparable. Until everything changed.

With his girlfriends, the possessiveness was even worse. He wasn't proud of it, far from it. So he tried to curb it, he really did. All Steve allowed himself were these little reminders, little things here and there that showed the world that this one person was completely and utterly his. It's why he gave Kelly his varsity jacket sophomore year, and it's why he bragged all night when Julie wore one of his button-downs at a pool party. It's the same reason he gave Nancy his class ring, because he was so proud to call her his at the time.

That's all he really let himself have, just these little things, mostly insignificant to anyone but himself. Steve had it totally under control.

Until Eddie.

Maybe it’s because he almost lost him before he even got the chance to call Eddie his. Maybe it’s because he already lost too much, so he clung to the things, the people, he still had even tighter.

Or maybe it’s just because it’s Eddie.

It doesn't really matter why, the fact remains that Eddie is making Steve a little bit feral, and the animal part of his brain demanded that he do something about it.

And that's why he bought Eddie a fucking collar, of all things.

He hadn't set out to buy one. He had just tagged along when Eddie had invited the kids on a trip to Indy because this supposedly amazing D&D store had just opened and they had to check it out. But as Eddie and the kids spent hours and hours in that store, Steve had gotten bored and had wandered off to kill some time until the nerd troop had had their fill for the day. As he walked along the sidewalk, half window-shopping, half people-watching, he came across a sex shop and curiosity got the better of him.

A faint blush had crept across Steve's face as he entered and saw all the whips, harnesses and toys the store sold. He and Eddie had only recently dipped their toes into the... less vanilla sex stuff, so while they had done a lot of extensive research and he definitely recognized some of the items, Steve still felt a little overwhelmed by the amount of options.

As he walked along the aisles, he looked at some of the toys, but finally decided that this was something he wanted to buy with Eddie. The thought of being able to watch Eddie pick out something for them to use was weirdly arousing, and so he made up his mind that he would leave the store empty-handed that day.

That is, until his eyes landed on the collar.

It was nothing special, really. Just a wide band of soft-looking black leather with a silver metal hoop on the front. But it was enough to make Steve's heart skip a beat, because now all he could think about was Eddie in that collar. Eddie in that collar and nothing else. Eddie in that collar as a true sign of devotion, of belonging, of belonging to Steve.

A mantra of mine, mine, mine echoed through his mind as he grabbed the collar and bought it without thinking twice. It was as if he had blacked out, someone else taking control of his body at that moment. Like a horny, possessive mind flayer. Steve vaguely remembers the saleswoman winking at him, telling him to have fun, and Steve assuring her that he would.

It was as if he saw himself walking out of the store, a discreet plastic bag in his hand, which he hurriedly tossed into the trunk of his car as he saw Eddie and the kids coming out of the store.

He made up some story about a new belt, and as they drove back to Hawkins, he tried to push all thoughts of his latest acquisition out of his mind.

But now, a few days later, the collar feels heavy in the plastic bag as Steve takes two steps at a time up the stairs to the trailer’s porch. His heart is in his throat as he knocks on the door. He hasn't felt this nervous since he picked up Eddie for their first date.

What if Eddie doesn't like the idea? What if this is somehow too far for him? Or worse, what if he pretends to like it too, just for Steve's sake, but secretly finds it weird or unsettling?

Wait, no. Eddie wouldn't do that. He always stresses the importance of open communication and telling each other what they like and don't like, what they need and want from each other. Eddie would tell him if he didn't like it and they could move on.

So this is going to be fine.

Steve really hopes it will be fine.

For a second he considers running back to his car, throwing the collar back in the trunk and just forgetting about the whole thing. But he doesn't get the chance, because just then Eddie opens the door.

The sight takes his breath away. It always does. Even in a simple black t-shirt and jeans, his hair a wild mess, Eddie still manages to look gorgeous and that voice in his head pipes up again.

Mine, mine, mine.

"Hey, sweetheart." Eddie greets him with the same smile he always has. His Steve smile, as Robin likes to call it, with his brown eyes all warm and sparkling and his mouth spread in a wide grin that puts his dimples on full display.

“Hi.” Steve replies with his own private smile as he walks in and presses a quick kiss on Eddie’s cheek.

“Whatcha got there? A present? For me?" Eddie's eyes immediately zero in on the plastic bag in Steve's hand. Steve lets out a breathy laugh, because he should have known that Eddie would notice the bag right away. He's like a dragon from one of his fantasy novels, always on the hunt for more treasures to hoard, and lucky for him, Steve brings him plenty of treasures.

"Uh, yeah. Sort of."

"Can I open it?" Eddie asks, mischief and anticipation written all over his face. He's already making grabby hands in the direction of the bag, so Steve decides to get it over with quickly, knowing full well that Eddie would be insufferable if he didn't get his present immediately.

He swallows thickly and wipes his suddenly sweaty hands on his jeans as Eddie takes the bag and reaches inside to grab the only item in it. God, Steve really hopes he didn’t make the wrong decision and even more so, he hopes that Eddie likes it as much as he does. He’s not sure what he’ll do if Eddie hates it. Spontaneously combust, maybe.

God, Eddie's dramatics are rubbing off on him.

The trailer is dead quiet as Eddie stares at the leather collar in his hands, the only sound being the crinkle of the plastic bag as it falls to the floor. Eddie's unusual silence doesn't do much for Steve's nerves, and he feels his stomach twist into knots the longer Eddie remains silent. He has to say something, anything.

"It's okay if you don't like it." Steve blurts out. "I mean, I don't know if I can return it, the lady at the store didn't say. Or maybe I can sell it, I dunno, but just know that it's totally fine if you don't like it. I just thought..."

"When did you buy it?" Eddie interrupts his ramblings, and really, God bless him. At least this is a simple question, not like 'Why do you want me to wear a collar?' because honestly, Steve isn't sure he's ready to answer that.

"Last week. When we were in Indy."

"You sneaky bastard, I knew you hadn't bought a new belt!" Eddie grins. "I can't believe you had that with you when the kids were there. Can you imagine Henderson finding that?"

"Oh my God, can you please not mention him right now?" Steve groans. Judging by the fact that Eddie hasn't said anything negative about the collar, Steve's confidence is slowly returning. Still, he needs to know if Eddie really likes it, that he really wants this, too. "So, uh, do you like it?"

"Yeah." Eddie nods, his eyes again fixed on the collar in his hands. "Yeah, it's... I like it. Thank you." The last part is said with Eddie's eyes boring into his, and the intensity behind them makes Steve's heart beat faster in his chest.

"Good. Glad you like it." He tells Eddie, his own voice full of... something.

Something heavy.

There's a long silence in which they both stare at each other, unsure of what to say. Or maybe they know exactly what to say next, what to do next, they're just not sure who's going to be the one to actually bring it up.

Eddie is the first to break the silence, he always is.

"You want me to put it on for you?"

Steve feels his dick twitch at the question, the for you ringing in his ears at the same time the mine, mine, mine mantra comes back with a vengeance.

"Please."

Steve doesn't even recognize his own voice at that one single word, but Eddie doesn't comment on the naked need in it. He just nods thoughtfully, and Steve somehow expects Eddie to just fasten the collar around his neck himself.

But he doesn't.

Instead, he holds the collar out to Steve, and when Steve takes it from him with a questioning look, Eddie smiles his Steve smile and holds his hair up, exposing his neck in a clear invitation. It's such a small gesture, but it's enough to make Steve's mind spin out of control.

Steve has helped Eddie with accessories before. He's untangled dozens of necklaces, untied his leather bracelets countless times, and he's always the one to remove Eddie's rings before they go to sleep. In theory, putting on a collar shouldn't be much different, but they both know it's more than just an accessory.

It's a symbol of trust, of devotion, and it makes Steve feel like his skin is too tight for his body.

Steve feels like he's watching himself from outside his body as he undoes the clasp and places the collar around Eddie's neck.

Eddie's skin is almost hot to the touch under Steve's cold hands, and he can feel Eddie flinching slightly at the initial shock before giving himself completely to Steve's touch. Steve doesn't believe Eddie realizes this, yet Steve's heartbeat swells with the quiet trust and submission.

Steve makes a silent vow to never fail Eddie's faith in him.

Before fastening the collar for good, Steve tests the fit by sliding his finger between the leather and Eddie's neck. When he finds the perfect fit, he buckles the collar and presses a kiss to the skin between the sharp edge of his jaw and the soft leather.

"Alright? Not too tight?" Steve asks, his breathing already heavy.

"No. No, it's perfect." Eddie croaks.

Steve takes a slow step back to admire the sight of Eddie wearing the collar. His collar, the one Steve gave him. Steve's breath stutters at the sight of it. It's really not that different from the accessories he usually wears, it fits right in with the chains and heavy rings, but it's still different.

Because while his accessories are a part of Eddie, the collar is a part of Steve. There is a meaning behind it, a purpose. It's not about aesthetics, though the black leather looks incredibly alluring against Eddie's pale skin. It's a visual reminder of their bond, their hearts worn not on their sleeves but on Eddie's neck. It says that Eddie is his, but it's also a tangible sign of Steve's devotion.

He only ever wants Eddie to wear his collar, and his mind is already buzzing with ideas for a custom-made one.

“Fuck.”

"Yeah? You like it?" Eddie ducks his head as a faint blush spreads across his cheeks. The juxtaposition of Eddie's sweet shyness and the things Steve wants to do to him makes his stomach do summersaults.

"Yeah. I really, really do. Now c'mere because I need to kiss you right the fuck now." Steve mutters, his hand coming up to cupping Eddie's cheek and pulling him in to crash their lips together.

From the moment their lips touch, Steve's entire body is on fire. Any other day he would enjoy teasing this kind of kiss out of Eddie, driving him wild with barely there kisses and pulling back at perfectly timed moments.

But not today. Today it's heated from the start, fueled by nothing more than that simple leather band around Eddie's throat.

Steve feels like the sight of Eddie wearing the collar has unleashed the insatiable beast in his chest. He's never been so demanding when kissing anyone before, but it's like a feedback loop between him and Eddie. The more hunger Steve feeds into Eddie's mouth with his tongue, the more Eddie demands. He coaxes Steve to push harder, to plunge his tongue deeper, ready to let Steve crawl into him through his throat.

With his hands on Eddie's hips, Steve begins to walk them back until Eddie hits the kitchen counter. The moment he does so, Eddie leans back and spreads his legs so easily for him, just wide enough for Steve to slide his leg between them. Their simultaneous moans fill the room as their clothed dicks brush against each other and Steve is pretty sure he's never been so hard in his life. And they're not even naked, not even doing anything but kissing.

Eddie Munson is going to be the death of him. But what a way to go.

Not slowing down as he tries to eat him alive, Steve begins to roll his hips against Eddie, his upward strokes forceful, just this side of too much. The delicious drag of his heavy cock against Eddie is enough to force Eddie to pull away from Steve's mouth, a series of needy whimpers rolling off his tongue.

"Shit, Steve. Fuck, you feel so good." Eddie gasps, his chest heaving and his eyes heavy-lidded.

But Steve isn't done kissing him, and without thinking twice, he grabs the metal loop of Eddie's collar and pulls Eddie toward him. Their lips are only inches apart when they both realize what has just happened. Steve's cheeks turn red with shame and he's about to stammer an apology when he meets Eddie's eyes. He expects to find a sense of shock in those dark brown eyes, but instead the only thing Steve finds there is a heavy dose of lust.

Steve swallows his apology and instead asks, "Okay?"

"So fucking okay." Eddie smiles, his voice dazed.

Steve smiles back at him and uses the collar to pull him the last few inches so their lips can finally meet again. Eddie whimpers so beautifully against his mouth and it's a sound Steve wants to hear over and over again.

Licking over Eddie's lower lip, Steve lets the hand that's not still hooked into the metal ring of Eddie's collar travel south to Eddie's chest. It finds a nipple through the fabric of Eddie's shirt, the material thin from wear, and he thumbs it.

It has the desired effect, allowing him to swallow more of the whimpers that fall from Eddie's mouth. Another hard thrust of Steve's hips against his cock makes Eddie throw his head back with a high-pitched moan, showing off his beautiful neck with its collar.

Steve thinks he's going to die if he doesn't get his hands and mouth on every inch of Eddie he can reach.

Fixing his mouth to the tantalizing patch of skin just below the collar where Eddie's neck meets his shoulder, Steve steps right in between Eddie's legs, spreading them even wider. Before Eddie can react to any of this, he stoops, grabs the back of Eddie's thighs and lifts. Eddie yelps, his legs and arms wrapping around Steve on pure instinct, and Steve hums against Eddie's neck. The weight of Eddie in his arms feels good, their groins pressed tightly together and his body heat seeping into Steve.

"Oh my God, how are you even real?" Eddie asks, but Steve thinks it's one of those hypothetical questions he likes to ask sometimes. So he ignores it, just scrapes his teeth across Eddie's skin to show him that he's very real and willing to leave reminders of that on Eddie's body.

With careful steps so as not to drop his precious cargo, Steve walks over to the couch and drops onto it. Eddie bounces into his lap, the movement causing him to slide forward so that his ass sits on Steve's hard-on. Unable (and unwilling) to stop himself, Steve humps up once, letting Eddie know how fucking hard and desperate he is for him.

"I need you to touch me. Please, Steve, touch me." Eddie begs so sweetly. The blush on his face reaches under the collar of his shirt and Steve needs to see how deep it goes. He quickly removes Eddie's shirt, relishing the miles of pale skin adorned with black ink and red desire. Their position brings him to eye level with Eddie's chest and he immediately fastens his mouth to Eddie's stiff nipple as if he's hungry for it.

And he is, a hunger deeper than anything he's ever felt before. A hunger that can never be fully satisfied.

Above him, Eddie whines, a pained sound, as if it hurts, as if it's too much, the way Steve licks and sucks and bites at the sensitive bud. But he also brings his hands up and buries them in Steve's hair, pressing his face against Eddie's chest as his hips roll against Steve.

"Off," Eddie demands, and for a second Steve is afraid he has misread Eddie, that he wants Steve off of him. But then he tugs on the back of Steve's shirt and whines another "Off", and Steve gets the hint.

Releasing Eddie's nipple, he moves to pull off his shirt, not helped at all by Eddie's greedy hands on his body. After tossing it somewhere behind the couch, he grabs the metal ring of Eddie's collar and pulls Eddie forward again to catch his lips in another desperate kiss.

His fingers remain hooked around the metal loop as their mouths slide against each other and his eager tongue licks the spit from Eddie's teeth. At the same time, Steve moves his other hand down from where it's pressed between Eddie's shoulder blades to the small of his back, encouraging him to ride his lap.

Eddie ruts against him, the roll of his hips picking up speed, their rhythm sloppier, and they both pant into each other's mouths at the delicious yet not enough friction of denim on denim.

They continue to make out, Eddie writhing on top of him while Steve devours his mouth. At some point, Steve slips his hand under Eddie's jeans and underwear, kneading and squeezing his ass to get him even more riled up. Steve has noticed how Eddie gets turned on whenever Steve plays with his ass, and today is no exception. As soon as his fingers start to tease his hole, Eddie comes apart over him.

The sounds Steve is pulling out of him have Steve almost on the verge of coming himself, and when he looks up at Eddie's face, he finds his eyes glazed over and his cheeks flaming. In between whimpering and moaning, Eddie continues to babble incoherently, pleading and begging Steve for anything, everything, as he continues to rub against Steve's lap. His movements become more and more erratic and Steve knows that this is a sure sign that Eddie is close, a hair's trigger away from spilling into his boxers.

And even though the thought makes more heat pool in his own groin, that's not what Steve wants right now. He wants to savor this moment, wants to burn it into his memory forever.

Wrapping his hand around Eddie's neck, just above the collar, he restrains Eddie from moving.

Eddie whines pitifully, no shame in his face at his own need. He's gone too far, Steve realizes, he's been floating for a while and Steve putting a stop to it must feel like punishment to him.

"Shhh, sweet thing," Steve coos in his most soothing voice. "Just lemme look at you. Just for a moment. Wanna remember you like this."

And Eddie tries, he really does. Tries to let Steve look at him, holds still as Steve noses up his sternum and to his jaw, biting the jut lovingly. But that's all he can take and Steve feels the strain in his legs from trying to keep his hips from chasing his release.

Steve decides to put him out of his misery because Eddie has been so good for him, so sweet and obedient.

"Aw baby, you need a little help?" he asks sweetly.

Eddie nods frantically, his mouth slack and his face and chest pink, his blush visible under his collar.

"Maybe next time I'll buy you a leash. You'd like that, huh?" Steve can't help but push a little, playing with their newfound dynamic. "D'you like being on my leash, parading around town and showing everyone who you belong to?"

"Yes, yes, yes, yes." Eddie slurs his words, his body limp like a rag doll as he writhes on top of Steve, desperately seeking more friction.

"Say it."

"Steve..."

"Say it." Steve's grip on the collar tightens.

"'m yours, Stevie. I'm yours, always yours." Eddie whimpers.

"Good boy."

It's as if that's all Eddie needed to hear to come with a broken sob, a litany of "thank you, thank you, thank you" falling from his mouth as he shakes apart in Steve's arms. His hips continue to stutter against Steve's lap as his orgasm rips through him and the pressure against Steve's own painfully hard cock is the sweetest torture.

When it's over, the last drop milked from him, Eddie collapses forward like a marionette whose strings have been cut. His face is pressed into Steve's neck and he continues to make snuffling noises against it, his lips and tongue wet against Steve's overheated skin.

It's so trusting, so vulnerable as Eddie lies in his arms, limp and completely out of it. The voice in his brain sings its mantra of mine, mine, mine louder than ever, eager to claim Eddie even more as its own.

Fueled by this desire, Steve lifts Eddie out of his lap and spreads him out on the couch before straddling his waist. The subtle pressure of Steve's ass against Eddie's spent and sensitive cock draws another whimper from Eddie as he stares up at Steve in starstruck wonder. It's an exquisite sight, Eddie's beautiful body offered to him in satiated surrender.

Steve unzips his pants and frees his hard and leaking cock, sighing with relief that it's no longer straining behind his jeans. He's so turned on by the sight of Eddie like this, all floating and spent and his, that he doesn't have to think twice as he grips his aching cock. He starts at the head, collecting the leaking pre-cum and spreading it over his length to ease the glide as he begins to jerk himself off with a grunt. Fuck, but it hurts so good.

"God, look at you. So pretty and all mine. My good boy." Steve moans, his hand speeding up. He's already close, feels like he's been since he closed the clasp of the collar around Eddie's neck.

"The sounds you made, Eddie, shit. Never sounded sweeter. Wish I could have filmed it, want to show everyone what a good boy you are for me, just for me. Wanna put you on a leash and show you off, show everyone who you belong to."

Eddie's mouth goes slack as Steve's dirty praise sinks in and he whimpers his name brokenly.

"What is it, baby, what do you need? I'll give you anything you want."

"Wanna," Eddie starts before a bitten whine cuts him off. "Wanna suck your cock, God, it's so big, I need it, stuff it down my throat, Steve, please."

Fuck, Steve wants that too. But there is still that voice in his head chanting mine, mine, mine and claim, claim, claim and he knows what he has to do to appease it.

Wanting to at least stuff Eddie's mouth with something, he slides three thick fingers between his lips and Eddie begins sucking eagerly.

"That's right, doll," Steve praises Eddie, his voice sweet even with the condensing words that follow. "You need your mouth stuffed so bad, don't you? Look so beautiful with your lips wrapped around my fingers."

He's jerking off furiously, turned on beyond belief. When Eddie's hips hump into him, it throws him off balance, sending him tumbling forward, his fingers sinking deeper into Eddie's mouth and Eddie gags on them.

It's the feel of Eddie's throat fluttering around his fingers that sends Steve over the edge, thick white streaks of cum splattering Eddie's face, neck and chest.

It's the most beautiful thing he's ever seen.

Steve has left the building, letting his animal brain take over as he pulls his fingers out of Eddie's mouth, covered in Eddie's saliva, and uses them to rub his cum into the leather of the collar.

"Mine," he whispers reverently before capturing Eddie's lips in a surprisingly soft kiss.

Eddie's too out of it to really kiss back, floating somewhere above them, so Steve decides to clean him up before the cooling cum becomes uncomfortable.

Pressing another soft kiss right between his eyebrows, he tells Eddie, "I'll just get a washcloth, be back before you know it.

And he is, taking no more than ninety seconds to return with a glass of water and a warm washcloth to clean Eddie's cheeks and chest. He removes Eddie's pants and carefully cleans his groin as well. When he's finished, he takes off his own pants and underwear, grabs the soft blanket hanging over the back of the couch, and joins Eddie on the couch.

He pulls Eddie on top of him and spreads the blanket over them. Wayne won't be home for a few hours, so Steve isn't worried. Above him, Eddie gets comfortable, nestling his face in the crook of Steve's neck and sighing contentedly. Steve begins to stroke Eddie's hair, sure that if he could, Eddie would be purring right now. With a smile on his face, Steve decides that buying the collar was the best idea he ever had.

He closes his eyes and presses a soft kiss to Eddie's forehead before letting sleep take over.

#steddie #steddie smut #eddie x steve #kinktober #kinktober 2023 #my writing

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talaok · 8 months

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Could you please write an imagine where Pedro and reader know each other for a very long time and reader comes from a not so happy family (unlike Pedro)

He’s in love with her and she does love him but does believe love is real or that relationships can last (thinking everyone only wants her for her body from past flings) and can’t give him a chance due to fear

Happy ending if you want

Thanks

warnings: angst, and brief talk about reader's bad childhood

a/n: im starting to honestly think yall should start writing fics, cause the shit you come up with is so good like

The first time you told him you were 13.

You had showed up at his doorsteps asking for a place to sleep.

You couldn't stand another minute of hearing your parents scream at each other two doors down.

They hadn't even noticed you were gone, they never did.

He was your only real friend at the time, and after a sort of awkward moment with his parents, he'd led you to his room and asked what had happened.

And that's the first time he heard the sentence he'd grow to hate.

"Love isn't real. It never lasts"

Your parents were the proof. Love is a trap, it deceives you into thinking you can spend your life with someone, when really, all you're doing is locking yourself into a cage, and when you finally realize what you've done, it will be too late, because then you'll be scared to get out, to start new, and that's why you'll stay, forever imprisoned because your own stupid choices.

From then on, it became your mantra.

With every guy who disappeared after having gotten you into bed, with every guy who dumped you as soon as they'd seen what's underneath your clothes, one sentence engraved itself in your mind.

Love isn't real. Love isn't real. Love isn't real.

And that's why, he, of all people, knew better than anyone why he shouldn't tell you, why he should continue pretending like he'd been doing for almost twenty years,

Maybe he was a masochist, or maybe his feelings were getting too strong and they had started to fog his brain, but he couldn't hold it in anymore, he'd kept it hidden for too long, and no matter how many women he'd meet there was always you in the back of his mind.

It had always been you.

And that's why tonight... tonight he had finally let go.

"Y/n, I love you"

He saw you freeze before his eyes, shocked and terrified of the words that had just come out of his mouth.

"I'm sorry" he murmured, swiping his sweaty hands on his jeans and looking around your living room to try and gather some composure. "I'm sorry to drop this on you like this. I know how you feel about the whole... love thing" he winced internally as his eyes set anywhere but on yours "And- and I don't want to ruin our friendship, and it's ok if you don't feel the same way, but..." He swallowed what felt like sand in his mouth as he finally looked into your eyes "Y/n I've felt this way for so fucking long" he breathed "I-I think I was too young to understand it when we met, but as we grew up it just became clearer and clearer and... and I couldn't do it anymore, I couldn't keep it to myself anymore y/n, I'm sorry"

His words felt distant, muffled.

You felt like you were drowning and he was trying to talk to you from above the water.

He'd just told you the three words you dreaded most in the world, and now you didn't know what to do, or say, or even think.

And it wasn't the same as when any of your old boyfriends had said it, no, with him, with Pedro, those words scared you because they meant so much more,

because they reached into that deep, hidden part of you that... that felt the same way.

And that part of you was hidden for a reason, that part of you was the only thing that prevented you from becoming like your mom, from falling into the trap.

And now he'd just handed you the keys, and all you needed to do was decide to open the lock.

And you didn't know if you wanted to.

"I don't want to lose you y/n, the last thing I want is to lose you, you- you're the most important person in my life, I-I'd be lost without you, so if you don't feel the same way, it's fine, I promise it's fine, I can take it, but before you say anything I just want you to know that when I say I love you I mean it," Both your hearts were beating faster than they'd ever beaten before"I mean I love every single part of you, every single inch, that I love you when you sing off-tune and I love you when you call me in the middle of the night" he laughed "That- that I wake up and go to sleep thinking of you- that without you I wouldn't know how to breathe, that since I met you, I felt the need to become a better person so that maybe I'd deserve you." he said more softly now "And I'm sorry about your parents, and I'm sorry about everything that happened in your life, but I promise you that I'd never do anything to hurt you, that if you just give me a chance, I'll try my hardest to prove to you that love is real, that- that it can last if you just give it a try"

The soft roar of an engine made its way to your ears as a car drove by outside, the fabric of the couch felt itchy all of a sudden, and your breathing had become uneven.

You didn't know how long you both stayed silent, how long it took you to take in all he had just said, but when you finally opened your mouth, your voice didn't sound like your own.

"Pedro-" his eyes were filled with hope, but yours only with pain "Pedro you know how I feel about this" you murmured, like doctors did just as they delivered bad news "I'm sorry I- I can't do this, you know I can't... I just-" there was this feeling in your stomach, like all your organs were twisting, like your body was telling you you were making a mistake "I don't want to lose you, and I know that if we did... this, it would only end badly" you watched all the hope in his eyes crumble and you didn't think you'd ever hated yourself more than in that exact moment.

"I'm sorry Pedro," you said "I can't"

He didn't look like himself anymore, he didn't feel like it either. He felt as if all the life had left his body, and all that remained was a useless sack of skin.

But still, still, he couldn't help but realize that you hadn't said one thing, the one thing that was gonna make him give up forever.

"So you don't feel the same way?"

It wasn't tears threatening to spill from your eyes, it was liquid pain, liquid hatred for yourself.

"T-that doesn't matter"

He frowned, trying to come up with something to say that wouldn't make him sound any more pathetic than he already was.

"B-but it does y/n. it does"

You swallowed thickly "Pedro, please" you begged

"I need to know," he said with a thread of voice

"I-I can't" you murmured, as a tear finally stained your cheek "I..."

He took that as his answer.

You didn't love him, and deep down, he'd always known.

"I think-" he cleared his throat to try and gain some composure, "I think it's best if I go," he said as he stood up.

you didn't know if you nodded, you didn't know anything anymore

He glanced back at you for a moment to see if there was any sign of you wanting to stop him, but your head was down.

both of your hearts broke with each step he took, and as he got farther and farther, this... feeling spread inside your body, this presentiment of having just made the biggest mistake of your life sneaked up your throat and robbed you of all oxygen.

And was only when his fingers grabbed the doorknob, and you grasped his arm, that you could breathe again.

"y/n-" he tried to speak, but you needed to do this before your mind could catch up, so you cut him off.

"I do," you said, as more tears fell from your eyes "I love you, Pedro"

His mind was a mess and his heart was a mess but he still managed to spit out a sentence

"Y/n, if you're saying that just because-"

"Pedro" you softly placed your hands on each side of his head, as you huffed out a silly laugh "Just kiss me"

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dnphobe · 4 months

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i am so deeply fascinated by the specific culture of internet fame and the conflation of the brand and the personal that happens as the result of a form of fame uniquely reliant on (perceived) interpersonal connection rather than a specific professional output. and dan and phil are one of the only not-deeply-depressing examples bc they have semi-successfully escaped their original personas while still retaining boundaries with their audience. the straight man/fool schtick is still a part of their dynamic (bert and ernie fr) but they're able to be so tongue in cheek about it at this stage it's very interesting to me

it's like. such a specific thing. because to equate dan and phil to comediens (the closest comparison i can find to their careers but from traditional media. or even radio personalities (something they actually were for years)....i don't know anything about those people's personal lives, at least not until there's a scandal that breaks everyone's view of them because it doesn't match with their stage personas.

but dan and phil's jobs, and the majority of online public figures, pretty much Require some degree of personalisation. there's possibilities for that Not to happen, like with people who Just post short films, or even the comparatively more recent rise of video essayists (and before that commentary youtubers) where the focus is very much on a Topic. but the very First youtuber boom (compared to youtube Video boom) was very much. person sits in front of camera and tells you about their life. and that's what those youtubers did. except in all the ways they didn't both because they had to be entertaining and many Real things are simply...not entertaining or interesting to people who don't know you. so you exaggerate who you are and stretch the truth of the stories you tell. and second of all because...who Wants strangers to know them personally? i don't. there's things my closest friends don't know about me. because i don't Feel like sharing those things (i will clarify here i am a painfully private person who hates being perceived for no real reason. but i'm sure Everyone goes through this to some degree.

and YES. dan and phil have indeed semi-successfully escaped those personas and i feel like there's a lot of youtubers we can't say that about. like yes their audience isn't as big as it used to be, but i feel like next to none of that is because of people disliking the shedding of persona. i largely put it down to the following things: the passage of time. all 'celebrities' level of fame fluctuates, largely with a rise then fall, but potential for a rise again; tied to the passage of time many people consider dan and phil to be a part of their 'cringy' teenhood and haven't given their newer eras a chance due to their own internalised shame, and; yeah, a Large aspect of the phandom was the Mystery. Are they Gay, are they Together, Why won't they Tell us they are Gay and Together. then they told us they're gay and told us they're Not gonna tell us concretely they're together. I don't LIKE admitting this because those of us here are like. here for more than 'phan' (or out of genuine appreciation for their relationship rather than treating it as something to get to the Bottom of), but this Is proven by the numbers their click bait videos did.

that was a a tangent. now i am going to go on another one and theorize on Why dan and phil have gotten through their rebranding(s) largely unscathed:

so first of all the parasocialisation or whatever you want to call it in the fandom was. Always more intense than even many other similar fanbases. except it wasn't i Feel like i know you from your on screen persona. it was i Feel like i know you Past your persona and i know this persona isn't You. which makes us sound tinhat as hell, like oh we know you Better than the things you show us? except we were right (phannie mantra tbh). like there's a reason people were fighting tooth and nail for phil to say 'fuck' for so long and it's not because we were interested in seeing him be something different than he was, but because we were perfectly aware he was a man around the age of 30 who can and does say swears and we wanted him to be Him with us. in many ways we Always wanted them to shed the personas.

second of all, they timed shedding their personas Very well. they started doing it after tatinof, which, while many of us were still young we were getting Older and changing a lot ourselves. so we were adjusted to change in the way we wouldn't have been before. and they dropped it even more Post coming out, and, i mean, how are you gonna be mad about that? their sexuality is in a way very tangled up in the personas, and as a largely LGBT+ fandom we wanted them to be able to express this part of them they've been holding back freely, and if that comes with dropping Other facades then, well, the closet is a hell of a drug. like. of Course they are going to change after a Big Change. which is another thing. they always Communicated they were about to change. whether that's dan making a whole video on a rebrand and changing his hair, or post-baking universe, or post-coming out.

but mostly i think it's this: dan and phil CULTIVATED their audience. they learned not to surprise us with the backlash from tabinof's sudden announcement and then would pepper in hints for any project and any change months-years in advance. and if you didn't like the hints you were getting? you could leave. only here for the mystery? here's the line of what you're gonna get, you can leave. but the people who stayed are people who Stayed. they have a staying power where it wasn't just...trading in one group of kids for another when the first group ages out, or being left to flounder after the first group ages out. and the second they stopped having a young audience, they stopped trying to Appeal to a young audience when they stopped having one, locking those doors. and i think that maturing with us was very important bc look if they Were still in those 2015 personas? i wouldn't be here. i'd be like...thanks but i am too old for this. so, conversely to everything, i think shedding those personas was, in a way, only BENEFICIAL to them

does any of this makes sense lmao

#sorry for this essay hdjdjdkdl #i feel like i didn't even cover all ur points which i wish i did bc they are all So interesting #but 'ry shut up' kicked in #but i love talking abt their personas and perception and the evolution of it all #thank u for sending this to lil ole me!#asks

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