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jobean12-blog · 4 months

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Back in my Arms

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x female reader

Word Count: 1,173

Summary: Your relationship with Bucky is still new and even though the feelings are deep it's hard to put a label on it but when something goes wrong while he's out on a mission you realize just how much he means to you.

Author's Note: Because who wouldn't miss Bucky and worry about him when he's out saving the world? Thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics thank you Daisy! 🥰

Warnings: some worry and angst to start, soft and sweet fluff that turns to sexy times quick, semi-public se-x sorta :D

The loud ringing of your phone startles you from sleep and you sit up with a jolt. Searching the night table with a sweep of your hand you knock several things off but finally wrap your fingers around your phone.

“Hello,” you grumble sleepily.

“You were asleep.”

Your best friend’s uneasy voice comes through in a whisper and your heart starts to thump harder against your ribcage.

“What’s wrong?” you ask.

“Babe…”

You sit up straighter and throw the covers off. “What?”

“They aren’t giving us any details but I just saw the news…”

“What?” you repeat and press your hand to your chest.

“It looks like the team is back but something went wrong.”

“Did you hear anything about Bucky?”

Your voice is shaky as you frantically search your room for clothes.

“No names but…”

“Oh my god.”

“I’m sure he’s fine babe,” she assures you even as her voice waivers. “But don’t turn on the TV or look at anything on your phone. Did he call?”

You slowly pull the phone away from your ear and check your messages.

Nothing.

You look at your missed calls and voicemail.

Still nothing.

When you hear your friend calling your name you place the phone back to your ear and whisper, “nothing.”

“It’s Bucky…he’s fine.”

“Okay. He has to be fine. I mean…technically I’m not his girlfriend. I can’t just rush over there and check on him, can I?”

“What you meant to say is, ‘you’re not his girlfriend yet,’ and who’s going to stop you?”

You nod as you start to pull on some clothes.

“I have to go. I’ll call you soon.”

With a few more reassuring words your best friend hangs up and you rush into the bathroom to make yourself presentable and then throw on Bucky’s Henley. The one you maybe forgot to return before he left for the mission.

Trying your best not to picture the worst in your head you run out of your apartment building and hail wildly for a cab.

Once inside your feet bounce along the floor and your hands are clasped tightly together in your lap as you silently will the driver to go faster.

When the cab pulls up to the tower you throw money into the front seat with a stilted ‘thank you’ and will yourself to take steady breaths.

Friday greets you and lets you in, directing you to the med bay on the lower floor.

Heart in your throat you creep out of the elevator and look left and right. It’s quiet. Almost too quiet and you step out.

“Doll?”

You whirl around at the sound of Bucky’s voice.

He’s standing there in his dark jeans that are painted on, his soft shirt rolled up to the elbows and his leather jacket thrown over his shoulder. The fluorescent lighting gleams off his metal arm and you hear his fingers tighten into a fist.

“Oh good,” you whisper as his image blurs. “You’re okay.”

You try not to sniffle and keep your hands at your sides.

“I heard there was some trouble, so I…I figured I would come and check on you. And the rest of the team.”

“You came to check on me?”

His raspy voice sends a tremble down your spine.

“Yes.”

He takes a step closer.

“Is that my shirt doll face?”

“Oh…,” you grab the hem and finger the soft material.

“Doll…please. Please come here.”

You back up a step, hitting the elevator door. “I…I was so worried.”

His swallow is audible and you watch the muscles in his neck shift.

“I would have called but my phone is busted and I had to make sure Sam was ok.”

“Is Sam ok?” you ask, suddenly breathless again.

“Thankfully he’s going to be fine. Just needs some time.”

You nod and let out a shaky breath. He approaches slowly, dropping his jacket to the floor and holding his arms out for you.

“Doll…please. Come here. Let me kiss you. It’s all I’ve wanted to do for the past three weeks.”

Your whispered “okay,” can barely be heard above your breathing but the second he’s close enough you launch yourself into his arms.

He wraps you up tightly, your slight shakes making him coo softly in your ear as he smooths his hands along your back and kisses your head.

“Oh doll,” he whispers. “I’m fine. I’m right here.”

Your face presses into his chest and you inhale.

When his hand slides higher and wraps around the back of your neck he brings your eyes to his, their gaze falling to your mouth before he closes the distance, crashing his lips to yours.

Your broken moan makes him press you impossibly closer, needing to feel all of you.

He growls your name and takes two steps backward, pinning you against the wall. His lips trail down your neck and then back up until they meet your earlobe.

“I can’t fuck you here doll. But if we don’t stop that’s exactly what I’m going to do.”

“I need you now,” you plead, dragging your fingers through his hair. “Now Bucky. Please. I can’t wait.”

You’ve barely got the words out when he lifts you into his arms and starts to move down the hallway. You pull on his shirt and wrap your legs around his waist, rocking your hips against his.

His hand reaches out to feel for a doorknob and he kicks open the door to an old med room. You slide down his body and onto the floor as he reaches behind him to turn the lock.

Your fingers slip under his shirt and you run your fingernails over his abs as he walks you backward toward the wall.

“Take his off. Please. I need to feel you.”

“That’s my line doll,” he murmurs.

The urgency in your touch is nearly his undoing and between kisses he fumbles with your leggings, groaning when he slips his hand between your legs and feels the soaked fabric of your panties.

With a rip they float to the floor and he spreads your legs apart with his knee. You push his pants down and free him, taking him in your hand and guiding him closer.

He stills, trying to focus on his breathing and garner some semblance of control.

“Rough Bucky. I want it hard and rough.”

There goes any chance he had of holding onto control.

He fills you in one swift stroke and you bite back a scream, moaning into his hand when he covers your mouth.

“I thought about you the whole fucking time we were gone. I never stopped.”

He drops his hand to hear you whine his name in response and he slows the movement of his hips.

“Tell me you missed me,” he groans.

You inhale and curl your fingers into his skin.

“I missed you.”

He grabs your ass and lifts you higher, angling your hips so he can go deeper.

“Say it again,” he demands.

“Missed you Bucky. I missed you so much.”

@hiddles-rose @randomfandompenguin @lizette50 @kmc1989 @goldylions @littleseasiren @blackwidownat2814 @buckysdollforlife

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #bucky x reader #bucky #sebastian stan #sebastian stan x reader

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navybrat817 · 7 months

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See Through You

Pairing: Dark!Nick Fowler x Female Reader Summary: You head to a carnival with your best friend and get more than you bargained for when your handsome neighbor bumps into you. Word Count: Almost 4.8k Warnings: Explicit sexual content, NONCON/DUBCON, unprotected vaginal sex, semi-public sex, choking, mirror sex, possessive behavior, mentions of stalking, breaking and entering, threat of violence and implied violence (not against the reader), Nick Fowler (he's a warning, okay?). A/N: Fix #8 Navy's Trick or Treat Nonsense! Special thanks to @maskedmistress87 who suggested dark!Nick with mirror and choking and @sgt-seabass and @tumblin-theworldaway for spitballing. ❤️ Beta read by the wonderful @buckets-and-trees (thanks for the feedback and help!), but any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @firefly-graphics. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

It was your best friend's idea to wear costumes to the carnival. Though it wasn't Halloween just yet, it was a good way to get into the spooky holiday spirit. You weren't sure why you decided on a Red Riding Hood costume, but the cape would keep you somewhat warm if it got too cold. So would the stockings. You even got a basket purse so you could carry your things around and keep in theme with the outfit.

If you were lucky, you'd find yourself a big, bad wolf to play with.

After adjusting the cape around your neck, you spritzed yourself with your favorite perfume and carefully set the bottle on your vanity. You always set it to the right of your jewelry box. Strangely, it wasn't in its usual spot the last few days. Just like your robe wasn't yesterday. You swore you set it on the left hook, but when you got out of the shower it was on the right.

It would’ve been easy to write it off as a roommate messing with you, but you lived alone.

“I really need to stop watching scary movies before bed,” you mumbled as you went to your dresser and shut your underwear drawer. It was ajar a few days ago. Had you left your place in such a hurry that you forgot to close it?

The ding of your phone pulled you from your thoughts, giving yourself one more look in your vanity mirror before you went to get the device.

“Two minutes away!” Kiki messaged you.

There was a slight chill in the air as you went outside to wait, but that wasn't why you shivered. Every once in a while, you had the feeling someone was watching you. Like a pair of eyes following your every move. It didn't make sense. There was nothing about you worth watching.

It didn't stop a chill from sliding down your spine as you looked over your shoulder every time you left your home. Or when you thought about the random things that moved around your place. As far as you knew, no one knew where your spare key was. You lost sleep wondering if some creep snuck in. If someone did break in, they didn’t take anything.

But if someone went into your place and didn't steal anything, what did they want?

“Nice costume.”

You jumped at the sound of a familiar voice, almost dropping your phone as you turned toward it. “Nick, you scared me.”

“Sorry,” he smiled, but didn't sound sorry at all.

“Sure you are,” you smiled back, your heart slowing to a steady beat again as you wondered how he managed to sneak up on you.

Nick Fowler moved into your neighborhood a few months ago. He usually kept to himself, but made it a point to give you a nod when he was going to or from work. While you wouldn't say you were friends, he was friendly enough with you and didn't bother anyone. He even helped you fix your cable when it went out some time back. As far as neighbors went, he was a good one.

And a handsome one.

The man turned quite a few heads when he unloaded boxes from the moving truck and you didn’t blame anyone for looking his way. With his athletic build, he carried the heavy items with ease. He had the bluest eyes you’d ever seen and his short, dark hair only helped to make them stand out more. The scruff surrounding his lips and along his chin looked long enough to leave a delicious burn if it ever touched your skin. You hardly ever saw him smile at anyone, except you. And he smirked at you on more than one occasion.

Like he had a secret he was itching to tell you.

“You okay?” He asked, taking a step closer. “You seem a little jumpier than usual.”

“Just a little tired. Haven't slept well the last few nights.”

“Is everything okay?”

You debated telling him what was going on since he sounded concerned, but decided against it. You didn't need to burden him with that. Besides, nothing was wrong. Just the spooky season getting under your skin. “Oh, yeah. Everything's fine. I’ll probably end up crashing when I get back.”

“Well, I'm here if you need anything,” he said after a moment. Those blue eyes of his meticulously looked over your costume. “So, you have a fun night planned?”

You almost tightened your cape around your body to hide from his gaze. Not that his attention wasn't flattering. It was kind of nice. Plus he was single as far as you knew and you never noticed him bringing anyone around. “Yeah. Going out with a friend."

Nick frowned a little. “He isn't wearing a wolf costume, is he?”

You swore there was a hint of jealousy in his tone, but you were probably imagining it. “No, she isn't,” you said, smiling as his shoulders relaxed.

“Well, it’s a great costume. You honestly look good enough to eat,” he said, chuckling a bit when heat crawled up your neck. “Sorry. I hope that didn’t sound bad.”

“No, don’t be sorry. I appreciate the compliment,” you said, both of you smiling as the warmth continued to move up to your face. “Do you have any plans?”

“I may watch a movie,” he said, running his fingers through his short hair. You tried not to stare at the veins in his hands or the way his sweater hugged his muscular frame. “It's too bad you can't join me.”

Your eyebrows shot up, not expecting his offer. Was it an actual offer? He hadn't invited you over to his place before. “Is it a scary movie? I like them, but sometimes they…”

“Scare you?” he guessed, his smile sympathetic as you nodded. “Well, you don't have to worry about any bad guys with me around. I can keep you safe.”

You smiled softly before Kiki pulled up to the curb. “Maybe another time?”

“Yeah, maybe,” he said, seemingly disappointed as he nodded toward the car. “Have fun at the carnival.”

Your smile slipped a little as he walked toward his place. “Thanks,” you called out, quickly getting into the car.

“Hey! Isn't that your super hot neighbor?” Kiki asked as you buckled yourself in.

“Yeah,” you replied, looking in the mirror as she drove off. Nick had stopped before he went inside and watched as the two of you drove away. It made you shiver. “He kind of invited me over to his place.”

“What?! And you're in here with me?” she asked, lightly smacking your arm. “You should've gone with him or invited him to come with us. You could’ve gotten laid tonight.”

At the reminder of your recent lack of sex life, you sighed. There was nothing wrong with having fun, but you wanted a bit more than that. Not like anyone had shown interest in you as of late. There was the guy who lived across the street who flirted with you weeks back, but he pretty much avoided contact with you the next day.

You wondered if he moved out since you hadn’t seen him since.

“You were already on your way and I didn’t want to just invite him,” you said, loosening your grip on your purse when your fingers began to ache. “It's weird though. He told me to have fun at the carnival, but I don't remember ever telling him I was going.”

How did he know?

“Maybe he guessed. Or maybe you mentioned it and forgot. I mean, you did say you haven't been sleeping well lately.”

“That's my own fault,” you said.

“Well, lack of sleep could be messing with your memory. And may I remind you that I told you to stop watching scary movies? They always make you jumpy,” she said, glancing over at you as her smile faded. Nick even noticed your jumpiness. “Look, we can skip this and go tomorrow. I don't mind.”

You shook your head and brushed the strange feeling off. She was right. Those films made you paranoid and she didn't need to deal with that. “No, it's okay. We deserve some fun.”

“You want some real fun, go visit your neighbor when you get back. He looks like he knows how to fuck.”

“I'm sure he does,” you giggled. You had no doubt about that. “But I'm not going to find out tonight.”

“You might. Who knows? He may even show up at the carnival to hunt you down.”

You both laughed, your smile bright and happy again. No one was going to hunt you down. No one was watching you. Your life wasn't some creepy movie. You just needed to relax and have a good time.

The carnival was in full swing, booming with cheerful music and shouts from people on the brightly lit rides. As you followed Kiki though, you kind of regretted not taking Nick up on his offer to hang out. Not even thirty minutes after you arrived, your best friend bumped into a hot guy. Literally bumped into him and almost spilled her drink on his shirt. Both of them had hearts in their eyes and they had been attached at the hip since. While you were glad she was having a good time, you were starting to feel a bit like a third wheel.

You also had that impression that someone was watching you again. Your skin prickled as you looked to the left and right, wishing the feeling would go away. It was silly. No one was looking at you. Everything was fine.

“Hey,” you said, tapping Kiki on her arm as she laughed at some corny joke. “I think I may explore on my own a bit.”

Her face fell as she looked between you and her new beau. “You sure? We can-”

“I'm sure. Really,” you assured her. She deserved to have a good time and would've encouraged you to do the same if you bumped into a guy. “I'll text you in a bit so we can meet back up?”

“Or I can give you a ride home.”

Surprise was written all over your face as you spun around. That was the second time Nick made you jump today, an amused smile on his face as you held your chest. He was in the same outfit you saw him in earlier, but he now had a sticker on the left side of his chest that stated, “Hi! My name is NICK”.

“What are you doing here?” You asked, his smile immediately fading as you took a breath. Your tone was a lot sharper than you intended. “I'm sorry. You just scared me again.”

Nick peered at you before he sighed. “Didn't mean to scare you or eavesdrop. I got bored watching the movie and decided to check this place out,” he said, glancing down at his feet for a moment. “I tried waving a minute ago, but I guess you didn't see me.”

You felt like a bitch. Maybe that was why you thought someone was watching you. It really was all in your head. “Sorry, I didn't see you.”

“Sorry I scared you again,” he said.

“It's okay. Really.”

“Well, neighbor, since you're here, you two should hang out,” Kiki suggested, giving you an encouraging smile.

What did you have to lose? “Would you like to join me?”

Your neighbor's smile was back on his handsome face. “Yeah, I'd like that.”

Kiki nudged you forward, moving you closer to Nick as your stomach flipped. “Text me when you leave or if you still need a ride.”

“Don't worry. I'll take care of her," Nick promised as she walked off with her new guy on her arm, leaving the two of you alone. “Lead the way."

“Okay," you said, maintaining a bit of distance as you walked beside him. You had no clue if you wanted to play games or go on a ride. “Anything in particular you want to do?”

“You.”

Your head twisted in his direction so quickly you almost hurt yourself. “What?”

“I said ‘boo’,” he said, pointing in front of him. The two-story, brightly lit funhouse had a bunch of random words on the panels, including “boo”. Why did you think he said “you”? God, you needed to get a grip. “Should we do that? It could be fun.”

With a small laugh, you nodded. “Fun in a funhouse,” you said, stopping when the carnival worker at the entrance held up his hand.

“I’m about to go on my break. Come back in thirty minutes.”

“Oh. Okay,” you said, shrugging a little at Nick. Maybe you could find something else to do.

Nick, however, didn’t budge. “That’s quite a break. Tell you what,” he said, taking out his wallet and pulling out a bill. The worker’s eyes lit up when he saw the amount. “Why don’t you take your break and let us go in anyway? We won’t cause any trouble.”

“Stay the whole time for all I care,” the guy said, taking the money with a toothy grin and letting both of you go past to walk up the steps. “Enjoy!” he added, roping it off with a “closed” sign before he walked away.

“Go ahead,” Nick urged, waiting for you to finish going up the stairs first.

The normally whimsical music sounded strange to your ears. Maybe it felt spooky since you knew you were the only two that would be inside. Or maybe it was because the movie you watched a couple of nights ago took place in a funhouse. A group of teens went in. Nobody made it out. No, this wouldn't be anything like that.

“We really could’ve just come back,” you said, holding onto the railing as the stairs shifted back and forth. You didn’t hear Nick follow right away. Glancing back, you swore you saw him check out your ass. Not that he could see much thanks to the cape.

“You might have decided to leave before we made it back this way,” he said as you came across a spinning barrel. Just staring at it made you slightly dizzy. “Not that it would’ve been a bad thing if we left since Kiki ditched you so quickly.”

“She didn’t ditch me,” you argued as you stepped into the barrel. The sound of a laughing clown filled your ears as you did your best to walk in a straight line. “She deserves some fun,” you added, regaining your balance once you stepped onto a normal floor again.

Nick followed you so silently that you didn’t realize he was right behind you until his lips touched your ear. “So do you.”

Hot air shot out of the ceiling above your head with a piercing whistle, giving you an excuse to jump away as your heart pounded. His eyes sparkled in amusement at your reaction. “Like I said, fun in the funhouse,” you teased, putting your hands along the walls as the hallway grew narrow. It was still large enough for you to squeeze through.

“Especially since we have the place to ourselves,” he reminded you.

A shiver rolled down your spine. You wondered exactly what kind of fun he wanted to have and if you should’ve chosen your words more carefully. “You know,” you began as you stumbled into a Hall of Mirrors, frowning as you realized there wasn’t an open door or space to move through. Which mirror did you have to push to get to the next room? “You didn’t say why you were wearing a nametag.”

“It's my costume," he said, tilting his head like the answer was obvious.

You glanced around to see if any of the mirrors had any smudges, anything to give away which direction to go. They were all clean. “And what exactly are you supposed to be?"”

He smirked as he met your reflection in one of the mirrors. “I’m dressed as your neighbour who’s gonna fuck you until you can’t remember anything but my name."

You nearly fell into the mirror and he quickly caught your arm to keep you upright, the grip a bit tighter than you expected. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me," he shrugged a little as he stepped closer. “Almost wore a wolf costume so I could chase you down. The subtle hints I've dropped aren’t working, so I might as well spell it out for you.”

You tried to figure out if he was joking or not. Your reaction was to giggle. A nervous, soft laugh that seemed to wipe his smirk away. “Is that why you came here tonight? You were hoping you'd fuck me?” you asked, remembering your earlier talk with Kiki. “I don’t even remember telling you I was coming here.”

He tapped his ear. “I heard you on the phone with your friend.”

“I was in my bedroom when we made those plans. There’s no way you could've…” you trailed off, a sense of dread pooling in your stomach as he stared at you. Did his eyes always have a dangerous glint to them? “Nick, how did you hear that phone call?”

“Take a wild guess, sweetheart.”

You swallowed a little. “It’s you, isn’t it? You’ve been messing with me.”

It sounded crazy to your ears and you didn’t want to believe it because blaming it on irrational fear was easier. But the single, unashamed nod he gave you almost made you crumble. “I never told you what I do for work, but I’m good with setting up bugs and cameras. And such a sweet thing like you living so close, I couldn't help myself,” he explained casually, like he wasn’t admitting to something completely messed up. “You make such pretty noises when you touch yourself.”

“You watched me,” you whispered, your head spinning when he smirked. He watched you in your intimate, private moments. What else did he do?

“Knocking out your cable gave me the perfect excuse to get inside your place without raising suspicion. You never would've invited me over otherwise. Though you really should be more careful where you keep your spare key. Made it way too easy for me to make a copy.”

You held your stomach to keep from getting sick. So many thoughts raced through your mind as he advanced on you. Why had you ignored your instincts? Did your attraction to him partially blind you? “Why?”

“Because I wanted to. Because you’re mine. Take you pick,” he said, wrapping a hand around your neck before you could move back. “You have no idea how tempted I was to break down your door and fuck you after watching the footage. Or every time I snuck into your place. I even moved things around in the hope you’d turn to me and let me 'help you' figure out what was happening, but you didn’t. You kept your distance. Your little ‘hard to get’ act was cute, but a man can only take so much.”

Each word he spoke added a new layer of dread and alarm. He squeezed a little when you tried to pry his hand away, tears blurring your vision. Shouting wouldn’t do you any good, but it didn’t stop the screams in your mind. “I wasn't playing hard to get. I liked you,” you managed to say.

“And you weren't trying to lead that flirty neighbor on either, but you're too sweet for your own good. Don't worry. I took care of him. He'll never bother you again,” he smirked as your blood ran cold. What did he do? “Or anyone else for that matter.”

The man was insane. “Nick, you-”

He cut you off when he pressed his soft and warm lips against your mouth. You were two seconds away from biting into his bottom lip when he spun you around and shoved your front against the closest, normal mirror. It didn’t budge. “I’m tired of waiting for you to come around,” he said, yanking your cape off. “Tired of just watching when I know you belong to me.”

You froze, unable to fight or yell when he shoved your costume up. No one would hear you over the sounds of the carnival and the worker running the attraction wasn't close by. Why weren’t you fighting? Why couldn’t you do anything to stop him?

“Nick, let’s talk,” you tried to reason. “Please, you don’t have to do this.”

The sound of him tearing your underwear away made the first tear fall. “We're past the talking stage,” he snarled, kicking your legs apart before you whimpered. You weren’t sure if it was the sound that softened his gaze or the sight of your tears. “I’m not going to hurt you, sweetheart. That’s the last thing I want to do.”

His words did nothing to soothe you when he undid his pants. “You are hurting me,” you whispered. He hurt you by bringing fear into your life when he could've just asked you out.

“Am I?” he asked, parting your opening with his fingers. He chuckled darkly as he pushed a digit in with no warning. “Then why are you so wet?”

You whined in denial, but he was right. Arousal trickled along your thighs, your hole aching with the need for him to fill you with something larger than his finger. What was wrong with you? “No,” you moaned.

“Don’t deny me,” he growled, nosing along your neck before he bit down. You yelped, the sharp pain making you tighten around his finger. “Oh, sweetheart, we’re going to have so much fun together.”

Your body betrayed your will as he played with you and you were thankful momentarily when he pulled out. The relief was short-lived when you looked over your shoulder, just in time to watch him unzip his pants and take his hard cock out of his underwear. He’d break you with his size. “You can’t, please.”

“Yes, I can,” he said as he pressed the head of his cock against your sopping wet entrance. “Now be good and take what I give you.”

“Don't-”

“The only thing I want to hear you say is my name. Let’s let your pussy tell me how much you want me.”

You screamed as he pushed inside, your walls burning as you tried to accommodate for the size of him. He hadn’t prepped you nearly enough, though your arousal took some of the pain away. He didn’t pause to give you a chance to adjust either, as if the wet sound of you sucking his cock in gave him permission to take what he believed belonged to him.

“Fuck, your pussy feels better than I imagined,” he groaned, your resolve cracking as you opened your eyes. He forced you to meet his gaze in the mirror and you watched in horrid fascination as he took you. The surrounding glass showed every angle of his claim, your reality becoming more and more distorted. He surrounded you. Consumed you. “And it’s all mine.”

You made a small sound as you braced your hands on the glass, forced to feel every drag of his cock. The more he moved, the more you tried to grind your hips back against his. It was shameful for you to like it, humiliating that you wanted to get off because of him. It was as if your body no longer belonged to you and maybe it never did. Otherwise, why would you want this?

“When I get you home, I’ll take my time. Get you addicted to my cock,” he grunted, smiling at the glazed look in your eyes. “I’ll record it. Make you see how much you love it.”

“Nick,” you gasped when he put his hand around your throat again, a silent command not to close your eyes or look away. You moved a hand to his wrist when it became harder to breathe. He loosened his grip enough for you to inhale and slid his hand down to your chest, squeezing one of your breasts with a moan. You moaned, too.

“That’s it, sweetheart. Look at you. Look at us,” he groaned as he thrust faster. The hand on your chest moved back to your throat when he reached under your skirt. “See how perfect we are together? How well you take my cock? You know you belong to me.”

The sloppy sounds of your cunt got louder as he found your clit and rubbed it quickly. It was almost too much, but you craved more. What was the point of denying him when your pussy kept trying to pull him back in? Why fight the inevitable pleasure when your body surrendered to him?

You weren’t sure how much time had passed and it didn’t matter. You were lucky to remember your own name. He was fucking you dumb and you wondered why the fear faded. You knew it would return when he finished, but you felt ecstasy for now.

“My fucking slut. Never letting you go,” he said, pinching the bundle of nerves with a smirk as you breathed his name. The familiar twist of pleasure grew and his name was the only word you said as dark indulgence flooded your veins. You were going to come and there was nothing you could do to stop it. “So come for me. Right. Fucking. Now.”

The rough demand made your fluttering hole squeeze around him almost painfully. You struggled to hold back, but the release washed over you like a tidal wave. All you could do was helplessly pant as you trembled, his soaked cock thrusting still so he could join you in sweet bliss. And you wanted it. You wanted him to come inside you.

You could hate yourself later for wanting it so badly.

“You. Are. Mine,” he growled, his name falling from your lips as he tipped over the edge. You spasmed around him still as he finished, your cunt filled to the brim. “Mine.”

You gasped for air as he buried his face in your neck, your body shaking as you pressed your forehead against the glass. Your mouth opened, but no words came out. Maybe once you had the strength you'd run. Scream. Cry.

“Look at me,” Nick breathed, his lips touching your pulse. You blinked some of the haze from your eyes as you lifted your head, your heart still racing out of control. Minus the darkened tint in his cheeks, he looked normal. Not a hair out of place. Like he hadn't forced himself on you. “Didn't have to be like this, but it would've happened no matter what."

You nodded, believing him. He took you in the middle of the funhouse without a care of getting caught. He got what he wanted.

“And don't even think about running away from me or I'll chase you down,” he added.

Feeling his spend slide out of you as he pulled out helped the reality of the situation sink in. He took you and you didn't stop him. “I won't,” you answered in a small voice you didn't recognize as he tucked himself away and fixed his pants.

“Good,” he smiled, retrieving your cape from the ground and wrapping it back around you. “Because I'd hate for anything to happen to Kiki. Such a nice coincidence that some guy bumped into her, isn't it?”

You shook your head quickly, tears forming in your eyes again. “No, don't hurt her,” you begged. If what he said about your neighbor was true…

Nick cooed as he framed your face and gently kissed your lips. It was so tender and you almost believed he was capable of being good. Almost. “Be mine and I won't.”

He said it casually, but his eyes told you not to defy him. “I'm yours,” you whispered.

“Good girl,” he said, pulling a hand away to check his watch. “Time's almost up. Let's go.”

You had a hard time moving your feet, but he put an arm around you to help. It was like you were drunk, unable to see or think straight as he quickly found which mirror to exit through. You just wanted to go home, but he took your safe haven away.

Was Nick Fowler your villain or was he an antihero for doing whatever it took to get you?

“Don't worry. We'll let Kiki know you got home safely. You can even tell her I asked you out tonight,” he said, flashing a smile at you that made him look like he'd take a bite out of you. “And when we get back to my place, I'll get you addicted to my cock like I promised.”

So, what do we think? Love and thanks for reading! 🧡

Masterlist ⚓ Nick Fowler Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

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joelalorian · 2 months

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Fall Into Me - Chapter Two: It All Turned Around

dbf!Joel x f!reader

Summary: Joel is hanging on by a thread as a single father to a tenacious 10-year-old Sarah. Feeling like he's drowning, like the world is about to spit him out, he needs some help before he breaks in half. At your dad's insistence, you show up in his life and change everything.

Story is inspired by the song Fall Into Me by Forest Blakk. Chapter titles will be lyrics from the song.

Word Count: 2.6k

Series Warnings: Mature to start, but will ultimately be Explicit, under 18 take a hike. No outbreak AU. There will be angst, drama, fluff, humor, romance, smut... basically, the works. Age gap of about 9 years (Reader 24/25, Joel 33/34). No use of y/n. Reader has a nickname from her dad, which is explained in this chapter.

Dividers by the wonderful @saradika-graphics

Thank you for reading this little tale! I did not expect all the love the first chapter received - my heart is fit to burst!

Chapter One | Main Masterlist

Chapter Two: It All Turned Around

You walked the few blocks over to Joel’s house on Monday morning, ready to start your new gig as Sarah’s… babysitter wasn’t the right word. Nanny? Au pair? Nah, that didn’t work either. Whatever, the wording did not matter. You were helping Joel out by taking care of his daughter when he couldn’t, that’s what mattered. Jeez, you thought as you walked along the sleepy neighborhood sidewalk, you were one step away from talking to herself aloud like a mad woman.

When you finally reached Joel’s house, already damp with sweat from the lingering heat, climbing the porch steps to the front door with your eyes glued to Joel’s truck, you realized the flaw in this arrangement.

You didn’t have a car.

How the hell were you supposed to take the kid to and from school without a car?

How did you not realize this sooner?

Knuckles rapping on the door, your teeth worried your plump bottom lip as you considered your options. Admit to the gorgeous single father relying on you to help with his precious daughter that you were a complete flake. Sneakily order an Uber with the hope that Sarah will keep her mouth shut about it. Or just buy a car off one of those online dealers and hope it gets delivered in time.

Those options weren’t great, but what the hell else did you have to work with?

The door finally opened to reveal a frazzled Joel, tee shirt inside out and dark curls mussed. A giggle bubbled out before you could stop it.

“Mornin’ darlin’,” Joel greeted, his lips tilting upwards at the sight of you while his free hand attempted to tame his wild curls. “Come on in. We’re runnin’ a little behind schedule this morning.”

“Good morning, Joel.” Your eyes drank him in. Even in his disheveled state he was gorgeous. If anything, the harried morning look made him even more endearing.

He stepped aside to let you in, glancing to the driveway then the curb. “Where’s your car? Did you walk here?” he questioned, confused.

And just like that, the pleasant feeling of seeing him again washed away in embarrassment. You almost forgot about the car situation again. “Yeah, ‘bout that. I don’t actually have a car.” You could practically see the wheels turning behind his dark chocolate eyes as he stared at you.

Finally, Joel’s head bobbed in a nod as he led you into the kitchen. “Okay, we can make it work. Tommy is on his way over and I’ll just hitch a ride to work with him. You can use my truck for running Sarah around.”

“You sure?” you questioned doubtfully. “I’m sorry, it didn’t occur to me that I don’t have wheels until I was standing on your porch.”

Waving off your apologetic concern, Joel called for Sarah to come down for breakfast. Turning back to you, he smiled, the scruff of his beard barely concealing a delightful little dimple. “Don’t worry about it. Just use my truck when you’re on duty until we figure something else out. It’s not like I need it when I’m stuck on a job site all day.”

“Well, thanks for being understanding, and so kind,” you replied, feeling a little overwhelmed by how wonderful Joel was being.

Sarah appeared at your side as Joel dug in his pocket for his keys, throwing her arms around your waist. “You’re here!”

“I am!” You hugged the little girl to your side with a laugh, surprised to see Joel’s warm gaze on you when you looked up. There was something in his expression that you couldn’t decipher.

“Here are my keys – this one is for the truck, obviously, and this one is for the front door. Don’t mind the other ones,” he said after clearing his throat, a slight flush spreading across his cheeks. “I’ll get a spare house key made this week so you can come and go as you please. You have my cell number, so call me if you run into any problems with the truck or anything else.”

Once Sarah was seated at the table with a bowl of cereal, Joel filled you in on a few other details pertaining to Sarah’s weekday routine and where anything you might need was located in the house.

“Drop off at 8:30, pick up at 3, homework before play, and don’t let her snack too much before dinner,” you summarized his instructions. “I got it. I can make dinner, too, if you’d like.”

Dark eyes flashed with a hint of something indecipherable again as Joel smiled. “You don’t have to do that unless I’m gonna be real late. I’ll call or text to let you know when I expect to get home each day.”

“Sounds good.” Your finger traced random patterns on the countertop as you watched the Millers go about their morning routine and you wondered if you should say something about his tee shirt. You didn’t want to embarrass the guy, but it would be rude not to let him know, right? What was the protocol here? If it was you, you’d want to know before leaving the house, right?

Before you could decide what to do, Tommy came bursting through the front door, boisterous voice calling out for his brother. “Come on, man. We gotta get rollin’!”

Joel rolled his eyes to you as Tommy came to a halt in the kitchen, the younger brother’s smile widening when his eyes raked over you. “Well, hello again, gorgeous.”

“Hey Tommy,” you greeted in return, glancing between the two brothers. Where Joel was broad and brooding, Tommy was lithe and energetic, and flirty to a fault. Both were handsome, but Tommy had ‘player’ written all over him. He was the exact type of guy that you avoided getting entangled with – the overconfident, love ‘em and leave ‘em type.

Growing tired of his brother gawking at you, Joel grumbled. “Alright, stop flirting, Tommy. It’s time to go.” Dropping his empty coffee cup in the sink, he turned back to you. “Call me if you need anything, darlin’.”

You nodded with a smile, watching the brothers kiss Sarah goodbye.

“Your shirt’s on inside out, asshole,” Tommy blurted out suddenly causing Joel’s cheeks to pinken. “God dammit,” he muttered, tugging the shirt over his head to set it right.

Unable to tear your gaze away from the glimpse of broad chest and slightly soft tummy, you jolted when something bumped your shoulder. Snapping your head to the side, you frowned at Tommy’s beaming grin. “Ah, I see how it is,” he said cryptically, the grin never leaving his lips.

“What?” you asked, baffled, mind still flooded with the image of a briefly shirtless Joel. The brothers were gone before you could shake your head clear.

Joel’s truck was ornery, you learned quickly. Stomp too hard on the gas pedal and it stalled. Don’t step hard enough on the pedal and it made funny noises while going nowhere fast. Brake too hard and it squealed. Don’t brake hard enough and, well, then you’d crash, obviously. It was a damn Goldilocks truck, but you adapted quickly, making sure you could get Sarah to and from school safely.

God, could you imagine if your first call ever to Joel was to tell him you crashed his truck and put his daughter in danger – or worse yet, she got hurt? That would be beyond awful!

By the afternoon, you and the truck had come to a grudging agreement. You would treat it nicely and it would do what you wanted it to. That was another sign you were losing your mind, right? Coming to agreements with inanimate objects? It was getting sad. You needed a life, some human socialization, for fucks sake.

“Hey nugget!” you called to Sarah, spotting her bouncing down the steps of the front entrance to the K-8 school. It was the very one you applied to earlier in the day, hoping to take over for a science teacher retiring at the end of the year.

“Hey! That’s what my dad calls me!” the little girl declared as she came to a halt in front of you.

“I know! It’s such a cool nickname, much better than the one my dad gave me,” you laughed and opened the passenger door, watching her scramble into the seat like a pro. Satisfied with the security of Sarah’s seatbelt, you jogged around to the driver’s side and hopped up into the truck.

“What’s your nickname?” Sarah asked as you started the truck with an encouraging pat on the dash.

“Spud,” you groaned, voice barely louder than the rumble of the truck’s engine.

Sarah’s brow furrowed and her cute little nose scrunched up. “Spud? Why does your dad call you that?”

“Ugh, the way he tells it, I was a really chunky baby. ‘Round like a potato’ he said. He didn’t like the thought of calling me ‘potato’ so, the nickname spud was born. I’ve hated it every day, but my dad loves it, so I tolerate it for his sake.”

Sarah listened to your explanation with rapt attention. “Yeah, I can see why you like mine better. I’ll make sure to never call you spud. Maybe we can come up with something better?”

“Thanks, kid! I’d like that.”

The rest of the ride back to Joel’s house was quiet as you focused on driving and Sarah bobbed her head to some tune she hummed. Once you pulled to a careful stop in the driveway, the little girl turned into a chatterbox, recounting every moment of her day as you led the way inside and prepared a small snack.

“Fourth grade is quite the adventure, I see,” you said when she finally stopped to nibble at an apple slice. “I don’t remember it being quite that much fun.”

There wasn’t any homework to assist with, but Sarah insisted on showing you all the A grades she got on her work from last week. She preened under your undivided attention, and you encouraged her to keep working hard.

The two of you were in the midst of playing some Lego video game when your phone buzzed with a text from Joel letting you know he was on his way home. The job site wasn’t far, and he walked through the door before 5 pm to find you and Sarah giggling as you bashed away at things in the video game. You were both laying on the floor, knees bent, and heads perched on throw pillows from the couch as you stared up at the TV. Neither of you even noticed him come in and he smiled at the precious moments he had to take in how genuinely happy Sarah was in your company.

Sarah caught sight of him first, pausing the game and rushing over to hug him. He eyed you as he hugged his daughter, his exhausted gaze silently thanking you for taking care of his entire world.

“Would you like to stay for dinner?” he asked, kicking off his boots before stepping farther into the house. “I was gonna order pizza.”

Tempted to say yes just to spend more time with him, you declined knowing they had limited father-daughter time. “Thank you, though. I should get back to my house to finish the paperwork for transferring my teaching certification. I’ll see you in the morning.”

Joel escorted you to the door, watching as you descended the porch steps and strolled down the sidewalk until you were out of sight.

The next few weeks followed the same pattern with you staying late a few nights a week or covering a Saturday when Joel was stuck on a job site. You started making dinner most evenings. Whether he made it home early or late, he always seemed exhausted, and you wanted to ease his burden as much as possible. You might have also wondered how many home-cooked meals the pair actually ate when Joel was left in charge of dinner.

You bought a car off another one of your dad’s buddies – a no nonsense sedan just to get you around town with Sarah safely. Some days, while Sarah was at school, you would even do Joel’s food shopping, knowing that he liked to shop at the bulk stores to save money.

Soon, you found yourself staying longer after Joel got home, eager to spend time with him and watch him be a dad. He was such a good one, much like your own, always giving Sarah his full attention and speaking to her with respect and making sure she felt heard. It left you in awe of the man he was and your burgeoning crush quickly, and quite by accident, developed into an affectionate longing for something you couldn’t have.

“How’s it going with Spud?” your dad asked, taking a swig from the bottle of beer in his hand. Seated at a table on the Miller’s back patio with Joel and Tommy, the men enjoyed a few after-work beers as you and Sarah sat together in the grass nearby.

“Why do you call her that, JB? I always wondered.” Joel questioned in return, curiosity finally getting to him.

You dad laughed, the memories of you as a baby always brought a smile to his face. “She was the chunkiest little potato as a baby, all round with the cutest chipmunk cheeks. The nickname spud just popped into my head and stuck from day one.”

Joel’s chestnut eyes flicked over to watch you during your dad’s explanation, a bubble of guilty warmth building in his gut. He found you immediately attractive when you first met, but now, nearly a month into getting to know and spend time with you, a strong affectionate attraction began to develop. It was wholly against his will, too. You were JB’s daughter – his best friend aside from his brother – and therefore off limits.

Surely him lusting after you broke some guy code, right?

Maybe he just needed to get laid. That would set him straight.

As if reading his mind, JB changed the subject. “Now that you have some help with Sarah, maybe it’s time to get back into the dating world. You need the love of a good woman, son.”

“Yeah, how long’s it been since you had a girlfriend, brother?” Tommy chimed in with a smirk. “A decade?”

The younger brother merely chuckled in response to Joel’s scowl. “I’ve dated, just none of them were good enough to bring home,” he replied, a rough edge to his deep voice. “Sarah’s always come first.”

“As she should.” JB nodded. “I know it ain’t easy being a single dad, but you have to make some room and time for yourself otherwise you’ll go crazy.”

Your dad went on to share some of his experiences with dating as a single dad and how you practically begged him to find a girlfriend when you were a teenager, just so he’d give you some space. After a short while, JB and the Miller men were laughing so hard their eyes were watering. At one point, Joel caught you watching them with a tender smile on your lips and his heart skipped a beat.

“Okay, I guess it’s time to put myself out there,” Joel admitted, forcing his gaze away from you.

“Yeah? I know someone who’d love to go on a date with you!” Tommy declared excitedly, turning to JB. “You know Annica over at the lumber yard? She’s been gagging over this one for ages. I’ll text her to set something up for Saturday night.”

“Sounds like it’s settled then. You’re going on a date, son!”

Joel’s brow furrowed, glancing between your dad and Tommy wondering if he just made a huge mistake.

tbc

Taglist: @mellymbee @untamedheart81 @anoverwhelmingdin @runningmom94 @leilanixx @pedropascalfan221 @lovelyjess69 @sarahhxx03 @sofiparallel

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel x female reader #the last of us #tlou #dbf!joel #Fall Into Me #pedro pascal #eventual smut #eventual romance

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candycandy00 · 3 months

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The Doll House - A Choso x Reader Fanfic Part 1

When your younger sister is tricked into selling herself to the Doll House, you rush there to help her, only to find her being led away by her trainer, Choso. Moved by your desire to save your sister, he convinces the owner to let you take her place.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Read Geto’s Part Here!

Read Toji’s Part Here!

Read Nanami’s Part Here!

Read Sukuna’s Part Here!

Read Gojo’s Part Here!

Note: Please remember that these stories don’t take place at the same time, or even one after the other! Consider each one its own timeline. So if you see Geto and Toji with other dolls, don’t be alarmed lol. I had to do it this way because if I don’t, by the time I get to the last trainer, there won’t be any other trainers left to interact with!

On the outskirts of town, there stands a particular shop called the “Doll House”. Inside its walls you can find a “doll” to match any taste you might have. All your desires will be fulfilled, no matter how depraved. Satisfaction is guaranteed! The dolls are exceptionally high quality, thanks to the skillful trainers who work with them twenty-four hours a day, molding them into perfect toys for your enjoyment.

Each trainer has a specialty that they focus on, and they all take great pride in their work. Their methods differ greatly, their approaches vary, but they all follow one rule: never get attached to a doll. After the training is complete, they hand the dolls over to their new owners, and never see them again. However, just once over the course of their careers, trainers are allowed to pick a doll they’ve personally trained and keep her as their own.

AU! Each trainer will get their own story! This is Choso’s. I’m keeping the tag list from previous parts. If you’d like to be tagged in future parts, let me know! You must be an adult to be tagged! Any feedback whatsoever is adored!

Smut. 18+. Fem Reader. FemDom. Sub Choso. Oral sex. Foot kissing. Divider by @benkeibear!

Your phone won’t stop buzzing. Even with the sound turned off, it’s making a racket in your bag, disturbing the important meeting you’re in. With a sigh, you slip it out to look at the Lock Screen. Your younger sister has sent you several messages. Wondering what kind of trouble she’s gotten herself into this time, you tap the latest message to open all of them.

“Sis, I need your help! It’s an emergency!!!!”

“Yosaku is in trouble with his dad. He needs money right now or the old man’s gonna kill him!!”

“We’re at the Doll House. Yosaku says he’ll win big at the next race and buy out my contract.”

“Guess I’m a doll now! Why won’t you answer me?! This is important!!!”

“The owner went to find a trainer for me. God, I hope I don’t get the BDSM guy!”

“Sis, I’m scared!!! Yosaku left and I don’t think he’s coming back!”

You clench the phone in your hand so hard, you almost break it.

“Fucking Yosaku!” you shout, then notice the dozen pairs of eyes that all immediately shift to you. You’re so enraged that you forgot you’re in a meeting. You apologize and excuse yourself, quickly leaving the office building where you work and heading toward the Doll House.

Your sister has been dating the son of a small time Yakuza boss for a little over six months now, and the two bit wannabe gangster has already ruined her life.

Before meeting Yosaku, your sister was always so sweet and never got into trouble. Despite only being four years older than her, you practically raised her. She’s the only family you have, and as such, you’re fiercely protective of her.

So when she introduced you to Yosaku, six years her senior, good looking in a “bad boy” sort of way, and with a terrible personality, you knew he was bad news. The fact that they started dating almost immediately after she turned eighteen was a big red flag. It’s like he was waiting for her, like a vulture.

She started getting into trouble within two weeks of meeting him. She got caught shoplifting items he instructed her to take (and he of course fled the scene when she was spotted). He got mad and ditched her in a dangerous part of town one night. He talked her into gambling away all her money. And a whole list of other things. Each time, you had to go and rescue her. And each time, you begged her to dump him before he got her into real, serious trouble.

Now she’s at the Doll House? Unbelievable! How could he convince her to give up ten years of her life for him?! You can only hope you make it there in time to stop the sale.

When you barge in the front door, past a front desk with a startled receptionist, and into a large circular room, you find your sister. She’s being led away by a pale man with a strange hairstyle, and she looks like a deer in the headlights.

“Stop!” you scream, rushing forward and ripping your sister’s arm out of the man’s hand. “Don’t touch my sister, you pervert!”

You don’t know a whole lot about the Doll system or the Doll House, but everyone knows the basics. The men here train women to be sex toys, usually with some bizarre fetish. A friend once told you a guy here makes his dolls crawl on the ground like a dog while wearing a butt plug. Unimaginable!

The man looks at you, seeming confused. “Oh, don’t worry. I’m not anyone suspicious. I’m just her trainer.”

You place yourself in front of your sister, blocking his view of her. “You think I’m gonna let you train her to do depraved… sex stuff? I won’t let you hurt her!”

“I’m not going to hurt her,” he says, looking a little hurt himself that you would suggest such a thing. “My job is to prepare her to be a doll. I’m helping her.”

He seems so honest, but you can’t let yourself be fooled. “I don’t care what your job is. You can’t have my sister! Look at her, she’s just eighteen! She’s practically a baby! She’s still a virgin! You can’t turn her into-“

“Actually, sis, I’m not a virgin,” you hear your sister say behind you, making you wince. You assumed so, but it sucks to have it confirmed. Fucking Yosaku.

You look at her over your shoulder. “That’s not important right now.” Then you turn back to the man. “Please, don’t take her. She’s the only family I have. She has her whole life ahead of her.”

The trainer’s face softens slightly, as if he feels bad for you. “I’m sorry,” he says, “but she already signed the contract. There’s nothing I can do.”

“But there has to be some way out of this! Her lowlife boyfriend coerced her!”

“What’s going on in here?” a voice asks.

All of you look over to see a silver haired woman standing just inside the room. She’s holding a silk fan in one hand, the breathless receptionist standing beside her.

“Who are you?” you ask her.

She flips a long braid over her shoulder. “I’m the owner of this establishment. And if you’re here to stop a sale, you’re too late. Unless you want to pay some rather punishing fees for breaking the contract.”

You narrow your eyes. “Just how much are these fees?”

The owner snaps her fingers, and the receptionist scurries to grab a pen and paper. The owner writes something on it and the receptionist presents it to you. She wasn’t kidding when she said they were punishing! You’d never be able to pay this back! Even with your pretty good job. Your sister’s credit would be ruined forever. And you’d have to work yourself to the bone and you’d probably still lose everything.

Your mind races. Think! Think! There has to be a way out of this! An idea pops into your mind. A terrible one, but it’s the only one you have at the moment.

“What if I take her place?” you ask.

Your sister steps out from behind you to look you in the face. “Sis, no, this is my-“

“Just be quiet,” you hiss, using the sort of tone you took while caring for her as a child. The “angry mother” tone, she called it. She falls silent.

The owner looks you up and down. “I don’t know… We’ve never done something like that before.”

You get down on your knees, looking up at the owner with a pleading expression. “Please! My sister is young and naive. She can’t handle life as a doll. But I can! As the older sister, it’s my responsibility to protect her!”

Beside the owner, the trainer’s eyes widen. Then, suddenly, he moves over and gets down to his knees right next to you, bowing his head low.

“I’m asking as well,” he says to the owner, shocking you. “Out of respect for her wanting to protect her sister, could you let them trade places? The older sister would be more suited to my training anyway.”

The owner looks slightly flustered to be met with such old fashioned, formal pleas. But she sighs and says, “Alright, I’ll go get the paperwork fixed up.”

As she walks away, the trainer stands up, then offers you his hand. Still somewhat in shock, you take it and let him help you up.

“Thanks,” you tell him. “But why did you help me?”

He gives you a subtle smile. “I understand wanting to protect a younger sibling. I have a little brother I would do anything for.”

Wow, he’s actually pretty cute… for a sex crazed pervert. It just now occurs to you that he’s going to be your trainer now. This cute guy is going to be doing all sorts of depraved things to you!

Your sister hugs you suddenly, her face wet with tears. “You didn’t have to do that! This was my problem!”

You pull away from her and stroke her hair. “Yes, I did have to do this. Just promise me one thing: that you’ll stay away from Yosaku. He’s dangerous! The next time he gets you into trouble, I won’t be there to help. Don’t make what I’m doing be for nothing.”

Your sister nods. “I promise! I’m all done with him!”

After reading over and signing all the paperwork, you and your sister say your goodbyes. Then you turn to your trainer and say. “Well, I’m all yours.”

He reaches out and gently takes your hand, then leads you down a hallway. He actually seems… sweet? You can’t imagine him doing perverted things to you. But he is a trainer here. Sooner or later, this man is going to have sex with you. You’re not some blushing virgin, but the thought still makes you a little embarrassed.

Once inside his room, he shuts the door behind the two of you. His room looks surprisingly neat, clean, and comfortable. No crazy props or weird toys hanging on the walls. Thank goodness.

“Feel free to sit down,” he says, gesturing toward a pair of chairs on either side of a small table.

You walk over and take a seat, watching him a bit warily. You still don’t know what kind of fetish he specializes in.

“I’ll tell you about my training,” he says, as if he can read your mind. You sit up straight in the chair to listen as he goes on. “I train women to be Doms. Dominant. I will call you Mistress. My name is Choso but you can call me whatever you like. I will do anything you tell me to. For the next six weeks, I belong to you. Oh, before you ask, I can’t get you out of the contract. That’s up to the owner, not me.”

Wait. What? He’s training you to be a Dom? You’ve heard the term before, but it conjures up an image of a woman in a black leather corset, cracking a whip. You’re supposed to do that stuff with him?

“So, you’ll do anything I ask?”

He nods. “As long as it doesn’t violate any of the house rules, and is within my power.”

That doesn’t sound so bad. But you’re not naive. You know this is supposed to lead to things of a sexual nature. This is the Doll House after all. But at least you’ll probably get to do things at your own pace. You feel yourself relaxing slightly.

“Can you get me a cup of coffee?” you ask, curious to see how he responds.

“Of course, Mistress. How would you like it?”

“Hot. Heavy on the cream, no sugar.”

He gives you a small bow of his head. “Right away, Mistress.”

You watch him leave the room, then exhale deeply. Why does any doll trained by him ever do any of the sex stuff? Why not just make him rub your feet and bring you snacks for six weeks? You suppose that would defeat the purpose of being trained. What was it he called it? Preparing you to be a doll? Whoever your owner ends up being, he’s definitely going to expect some sex stuff.

But do you have to initiate it? Command Choso to sleep with you? You can’t imagine doing that.

He walks back in with a steaming cup and reaches it to you as if he’s a butler. You glance up at him, and you think he’d look really good in a butler uniform.

You noticed it before, but he’s really cute. He’s like a quiet goth guy without the piercings. His hair is styled into two short ponytails, one on either side of his head. It’s not a style you’ve seen before, but it looks good on him. His clothes are a bit baggy, making you curious about what’s under them.

The coffee is delicious, and Choso watches you drink it silently. After you sit the cup down, he asks, “Is there anything else you’d like me to do?”

You think for a moment. “You’ll do anything? Even if it’s something embarrassing or demeaning?”

“Of course, Mistress.”

You frown. “I don’t know. It seems wrong to force you to do things.”

A gentle smile appears on his face. “If you’re concerned about consent, please don’t worry. I work here voluntarily because I like doing stuff like this. I’m happy to do anything you want. No matter what it is.”

There’s an eagerness in his voice that makes your heart beat fast. You take a deep breath and say, “Kiss my foot!”

You really just want to test whether he’ll actually do anything you say or not, and this seems like a relatively tame command. Actually it’s not sexual at all.

Or so you think, until Choso gracefully drops to his knees in front of you and, oh so gently, removes your high heeled shoe from your right foot. Then his hands move to your thigh, sliding just under your skirt. You start to yell at him, but then you realize he’s pulling your stocking down, slowly sliding it down your leg and off your foot.

His eyes lock onto yours as he carefully lifts your foot up in his hand, holding it up close to his face. He licks his lips, then presses them softly to the top of your foot as his hand caresses your ankle.

Oh wow. Okay, you kind of get how this all turns sexual. Choso on his knees in front of you, so eager to please, is doing things to you.

He stands back up, the tiniest hint of a grin on his pale face. He knows what he’s doing. He wouldn’t be a very good trainer if he didn’t. “Is there anything else you’d like me to do, Mistress?”

Your heart is racing. You feel your face heating up. Fuck, did he just seduce you with a single kiss to your foot? You cough awkwardly and look away from his pretty face.

“I’m not sure what else to make you do,” you say, then quickly add, “What would you do if I told you to strip?”

He instantly begins pulling his loose fitting shirt over his head.

“Wait! I wasn’t serious! I was just messing around!” you yell, but his shirt is already off, dangling from his hand. Your eyes drink in his well defined torso, surprised by how toned he is. A cute face and a hot body? Plus he’s sweet and gentle? Is this guy the total package or what?

You shake your head. You can’t let yourself fall for him. He’s your trainer. He’s done this same stuff, and much more, with lots of other women. And besides, in six weeks you’ll belong to someone else. You just hope whoever that is has half of Choso’s charm.

“I’m sorry, Mistress, I thought you wanted me to undress,” he says, pulling his shirt back on. Why does he sound a little disappointed?

Now you really want to see what he’s packing beneath those baggy pants, but you can’t bring yourself to command him to show you. Not so soon after meeting him anyway.

“It’s my fault,” you tell him. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

He smiles at you. It’s a very warm expression. “Please don’t worry about it, Mistress. I’m here to please you.”

*************************

Choso watches his new doll as she stands up and looks around the room. This will be her room for the next six weeks, so it’s good for her to familiarize herself with it.

“Can I go get some of my things from home?” she asks.

“Yes. You can leave the house so long as you come back by nightfall. That’s one of the house rules. If you go out at night, I have to go with you.”

She looks at her watch. “I guess I’ll just go tomorrow,” she says. “So what do we do for dinner?”

“There’s a dining hall where we all usually eat our meals,” he tells her, then goes on to explain what times meals are served and tells her about the small shared kitchen. He goes over some more house rules and also warns her that the other trainers all have their own styles, so she shouldn’t be surprised to see naked dolls or dolls in strange outfits.

She seems to be taking it all in fairly well.

For dinner, she opts to stay in his room while he fetches plates, saying she isn’t quite ready to meet everyone else. She also tells him to eat at the small table in his room with her. Some dolls, perhaps angry about being dolls in the first place, order him to sit on the floor and eat. It doesn’t bother Choso, but he does think his new doll seems nice so far.

“So you have a little brother?” she asks over dinner.

He looks up from his plate, somewhat surprised. Some dolls ask a few basic questions at first, just to get to know him a little, but this one managed to get straight to his favorite topic. He smiles and says, “Yes. His name is Yuji.”

Her face looks kind, pretty, as she asks, “How old is he?”

“Nine,” he answers. “He’s a very energetic child, but he’s very sweet.”

She’s smiling, perhaps thinking of her sister. “He sounds adorable. Do you get to spend much time with him?”

Choso lowers his eyes to his food. “Not as much as I like. We only share one parent, and both of his have died. He lives with his grandfather now. I visit him as much as I can, and he visits me here occasionally. Oh, don’t worry, he doesn’t understand what I do here.”

They talk for a while longer, Choso eventually getting his phone and showing her pictures of Yuji. And he almost forgets, for a few moments, that she’s a doll and he’s her trainer. For those few moments, they’re just two older siblings smiling and talking.

When night falls, Choso goes to take a shower. When he steps out, dressed in cozy sweats with his wet hair grazing his shoulders, his doll looks at him strangely.

“Is something wrong?” he asks her, drying his hair with a towel.

She blinks then averts her eyes. “No, nothing’s wrong,” she says, looking a little embarrassed before adding, “You look nice with your hair down.”

His doll decides to sleep in her clothes tonight, refusing his offer to wear something of his. And when it’s time to go to bed, he asks, “Where would you like me to sleep, Mistress?”

She wears a puzzled expression. “Uh, the bed?”

“Most dolls tell me not to sleep in the bed with them on the first night. I suppose they’re nervous, me being a stranger to them.”

She shrugs. “It’s your bed. It wouldn’t be right to force you out of it. Just don’t touch me and it’ll be fine.”

He stares at her. “You trust me already?”

She smiles as she climbs into his bed, staying on one side. “I think anyone who loves his little brother as much as you love Yuji can’t be a bad person.”

Choso feels his heart skip a beat, but he keeps his face neutral as he gets into bed, keeping a respectful distance from his doll.

**********************

Two days later, you find yourself sitting in a chair in Choso’s room. He’s standing nearby, waiting for you to tell him to do something. These past couple of days, you’ve had him give you foot rubs, massage your shoulders, and brush your hair. All things pointedly not sexual. But in every case, Choso has made innocent actions seem incredibly sensual.

The way his hands touch you, the way his eyes look at you with desire, they make you want to order him to fuck you right now. But you can’t do that. You’ve been trying to think of a way to make the orders you give him more sexy, but it’s difficult for you to just tell a man you barely know to start doing sexy things to you.

You thought he was supposed to teach you how to be a Dom, but when you said that, he replied with, “It’s much better to just learn by experiencing things. So please tell me what you want me to do.”

Which was no help at all. You’re starting to think Choso isn’t a very good teacher.

If he would just tell you what he wants, what he’d like for you to order him to do, this would be far less awkward!

Wait. That might work!

“Choso,” you say, and he seems to perk up a bit at the sound of his name. “If you could pick one thing for me to tell you to do, what would it be?”

He smiles mildly. “I’d love to do anything you tell me to do, Mistress.”

“No. Give me a real, honest answer. This is an order from your Mistress. What would you most want to be ordered to do right now?”

He looks at you for a moment, then his eyes seem to get darker, a very slight pink flush to his cheeks. “What I’d most like to be ordered to do,” he says, keeping eye contact with you, “is to pleasure you with my mouth. To get on my knees in front of you while you spread your legs and stand over me, to taste you, to use my tongue to make you cum, over and over, until your legs give out.”

Oh shit. Are you seriously already wet just from hearing him talk about eating you out? There’s a hunger in his eyes, and you feel heat creeping across your face, your breaths quickening. Just imagining his pretty face buried between your thighs is making you horny as hell.

“Okay then,” you say, standing up and trying to keep your voice steady, trying to sound confident and in charge even though you feel like you’re about to melt into a puddle of goo, “do it. Pleasure me… with your mouth.”

The way his cute, pale face lights up! He drops to his knees on the spot, and slowly crawls over to you. When he reaches you, he puts his hands on your thighs and carefully slides your skirt down, looking you in the eyes as he does it.

“Mistress, may I please remove your panties?” he asks.

You feel like you can barely breathe as you nod and say, “Yes, you may.”

His gentle hands rub upwards, until they reach the top of your lace panties, and then he eases them down your legs, helping you to step out of them once they reach the floor. This leaves you standing in his room, naked from the waist down, while he kneels in front of you.

“Mistress, can you spread your legs?”

You feel your face burning as you move your feet further apart, giving him an eye full of your dripping pussy. He looks at it, then at your face, then licks his lips as if he’s about to dig into a tasty meal.

And boy does he dig in! He runs his tongue up your slit, collecting any juices he can, then uses his fingers to open your folds. He takes a moment to look at your most private place, then says, “You’re beautiful, Mistress,” before slowly licking your pussy. His tongue circles your clit, then his lips wrap around it, and you can almost hear him slurping at your wetness.

You look down at his face, only the top half visible, and his eyes shift up to yours. They’re half lidded, looking at you through his long eyelashes.

As he makes out with your pussy, licking and kissing it so sweetly, taking his time, your legs begin to tremble. The pleasure is simply too much. You’ve been eaten out before, but never like this, never as if your clit is the most delicious thing on earth.

“Ahh… Choso… I can’t…”

He pauses and glances up. “Are you alright, Mistress?”

“Y-yes, just… don’t stop, even if I tell you to. Not until I collapse,” you say, feeling slightly delirious. Did you really just say that?

“Of course, Mistress,” he says, then returns to devouring you.

Your hands move to his head, and you find yourself pulling the ponytails free and letting his hair loose. Then you’re gripping it, hopefully not hard enough to hurt. You hear him utter a quiet moan, and the vibration of his voice against your clit as his lips suckle it gently sends you over the edge.

You cry out, your hands tightening in his hair, your legs shaking and nearly giving way right then and there. His hands move around to your thighs and ass, holding you steady while his tongue laps up any fluids that leak out. You’re quivering, your clit extra sensitive and swollen after your orgasm, and that’s when his wet tongue glides over it again, pushing the hood even further back.

“W-wait! Oh God… oh fuck!”

Your body jerks, your legs turning into spaghetti as another orgasm hits you within minutes of the first. Choso’s grip on your body is firm, keeping you from crumbling. His lips and tongue are still working at your clit, moving at a faster pace now, making you shudder and moan.

“Choso… I can’t stand it… feels too good… I can’t…. I can’t…”

His mouth is relentless, pushing you right back to the edge. You know you must be pulling his hair too hard, but you have to grip something or you’ll fall apart. Then, you feel his teeth lightly scrape over your sensitive, overstimulated bud, and you inhale sharply, nearly choking on the air as you cum for the third time.

It feels like your body is dissolving as all strength leaves you. Choso catches you in his arms and eases you down to the carpeted floor, cradling you.

“Are you alright, Mistress?” he asks, his lips glistening with your juices.

You’re still twitching, clutching his arms as you ride out the aftershocks of the three most intense orgasms of your life. You can’t speak, so you just nod to answer him.

He holds you until you’re able to stand up with his help, then he helps you clean up before tucking you into bed.

“I’m going to take a shower,” he says, and you nod as he goes into the bathroom. You didn’t mention it, but when he was holding you on the floor, your upper half in his lap, you felt a rather impressive erection through his loose pants. You thought about doing something about it, but your mind was a little too hazy at that point. Oh well, you’re certain you’ll get plenty of chances to pleasure him as well.

You never imagined being a doll before all this, and you’re still angry that things turned out this way, but at least you have Choso as your trainer. You don’t know how things will turn out, who will end up owning you, but at least for now, the situation isn’t too bad. So you fall asleep to the sound of the water running in the shower, knowing Choso will be sleeping beside you again tonight.

Tag List:

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#choso x reader #choso smut #choso #choso kamo #jjk x reader #jjk smut #choso x you #x reader

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katsheadinclouds · 2 months

Text

Summer nights, you and I

Lucien Flores x f!plus-size!reader

summary: You explore your feelings for your high school sweetheart, who comes to your birthday party.

warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, bad communication, mention of drinking, no mention of pronouns for reader but body parts are mentioned, reader wears a dress and has hair, smut, car sex in a public place, unprotected PiV sex (wrap it up folks!). No use of y/n. Not beta read. If I forgot something, let me know!

word count: 3.7k

notes: Happy birthday weekend to me! Yesterday, when I saw the new pictures and videos of one mr. Lucien Flores, my brain got fried, and inspiration hit me. I ended up writing this thing in the middle of the night and thought I’d share it now to celebrate me turning 30!

dividers by saradika-graphics

He watches you mingle in the crowd, eyes following your every move. People talk with him, to him, but the words slip out of his head as soon as he hears them. He watches as you laugh at a joke someone tells you. He watches you listen to someone. He watches the arch of your lips when you answer someone’s question, how your tongue drags over the softness as you wet them before sipping on your drink.

He knows you’re aware of him. He sees it in the way you turn around if you get too close to him. He sees your head twist away after you’ve locked your eyes on him when you think he hasn’t noticed. It’s in the way you pretend to not see him even when you’re facing him, trying to force yourself to stay present in the conversation you’re engaged in.

But every few seconds your eyes drift to watch him past the guest’s face. Your shoulders tense up, you breathe a little deeper, and you try so hard to not let his presence deter you from the deep desire to keep your head straight. You told him that you two can’t keep seeing each other. You told him that repeatedly; every time you came knocking on his door at odd hours of the night, every time you called him to ask if he was free the next weekend, every time you sighed out his name when his mouth was buried between the roundness of your thighs. It was a reflex. A chanting wish to keep yourself from him.

Yet every time you came back, saying the same thing, “we can’t keep seeing each other like this.”

He had looked at you under his brow, ready to indulge you in the orange gloom of the streetlights glowing in through the window. “How do you want to see me then?” He mocked.

He didn’t expect to be pushed on his back, your fingers gently around his throat, your hot palm against his feverish skin, your lips against his ear, “I don’t,” you whispered. Almost like it was an emphasis on your resoluteness, you rose to your knees and guided him into you. Your arousal pooled instantly at the base of his cock when you heard him moaning. He dug his fingers against your ass and helped you ride him until your thighs were burning. Here you were, trying to meet all your guests in the dusky garden you had rented for your birthday party. “I don’t want you there,” you had said when you gave him the invite.

“Then I won’t come there,” he answered. You gave him a long look, your fingers pressed against his before you turned on your heels and left his place before the sun rose.

Here you were, avoiding him at your own party, trying to act nonchalant about the man who you wanted in every way but never wanted to admit it even to yourself. You knew how people saw him. How they’d see you if they knew about you two.

You were always the good one, ready to help, never backing out even in the bleakest situations. People trusted you, and you gave all of them a reason to do that. Lucien on the other hand, he is nothing like you.

He has always been the quiet rebel, the one with the free spirit who sometimes disappears without a word to chase his dreams and wants. Untrustworthy, ready to jump when everyone else expected him to stand still. You can’t accept that he has changed, even when he tries to prove it to you.

You knew you couldn’t get attached like you had when you two were teenagers, with heated cheeks and coy smiles. Back then you were shy and your hands always shook when you wanted to touch him. Even if it was just to hold his hand or to push his unruly curls off his eyes.

The kisses back then were timid, full of nerves, when either of you weren’t used to having someone so close yet. The teenage romance ended before it even had a chance to properly start. He left and you stayed. Your tears were never ending, they dried out your soul. The hope for feeling like you had someone you could trust to stand with you, to have someone in your corner, withered away. It was by accident when he saw you again. At a coffee shop on a busy Tuesday morning. He could recognize your voice from a mile away and the smile in your eyes when you thanked the barista for your coffee. And the curve of your lips that you licked with the tip of your tongue before you took a sip.

He didn’t know if he should call out for you or let you go. He did neither. He was on his feet before he had the chance to decide, and stood in your way as you were heading outside with your takeout cup, smiling at something on your phone. You almost crashed into him, barely catching yourself before you spilled your coffee on his chest.

“Excuse me,” the annoyance was palpable, but when you looked up and saw his face, the realization hit you like a train.

“Lucien,” you half whispered with wide eyes in the full coffee shop. He was so close he could smell the mint in your breath from your toothpaste.

“Long time no see,” his mouth found a crooked smile and you gasped out a laugh, not believing that he was standing in front of you, not knowing what to do next. It wasn’t forbidden. The love he feels for you, or the love you feel for him. You’re protecting yourself, he knows that. You don’t want to feel like you’ve lost something when he decides to leave again. You don’t want to find yourself alone again. You don’t want to feel like you’ve been abandoned again.

You were inseparable for a while. He was a lifeline for you when you felt most lonely, without friends and belonging in any group that had formed at school. He was a friend, first and foremost, then your first love.

By the end of it he was nothing when he followed his dad to another state one summer. So, you keep telling him that you can’t meet anymore. That it’s not wise to see each other anymore. That this is the last time, before you come back again and tell him the same things again and again. “Happy birthday,” he finally finds you alone by the drinks table, catching your breath after all the socializing and meaningless conversations with people you’ve collected throughout the years to make yourself a safety net that has holes in it. You had said it yourself, “I don’t belong with these people, I don’t know why I think they’re my friends.”

“Thank you,” your quiet voice trembles when you face him and look at him deep in his eyes.

“I have something —,” he begins, but is cut off by the other people who burst into explosive laughter. The sound is a mix of joyful and horrifying at the same time, too loud yet held back.

“Come,” he takes your hand and pulls you away towards the gates of the garden, getting further from the party and the droning chatter with every step. You hold onto his hand with your fingers twined with his and let him take you anywhere he wants.

He opens the doors of his car but pulls you to his chest before pushing your back against the side of the ride. Your hands reflexively reach for his shoulders and drag him in. Your hungry mouth is about to repeat your script but gets distracted by his lips and the wet glide of his tongue against yours. “What were you about to say out there?” You groan when he sucks at the soft flesh right under your jaw.

“That I have something for you,” the low murmur of his voice makes shivers run down your spine. Your hands don’t shake anymore when you reach for his kisses, when you reach for his belt and pant against his mouth when the now familiar feeling of his tongue fills your mouth. Smoothly he reaches behind your back and pulls the door open, leading you to the backseat. The pleasant mildness of the night feels scorching in the closed car. The windows are fogged up and your hand is slipping against the glass when he buries himself snuggly into you. Your breath catches in your throat every time he reaches that place deep inside you. He makes you discover the fine line between pleasure and pain with every stroke.

He’s careful with it, making sure you never cross that line to painful but teeter on the brink of it. Who would’ve guessed you’d be getting fucked in Lucien’s car by the end of the night, sweat pouring out of your pores, feeling spread open and the intense pleasure with every stroke of his cock in the tightness of your pussy, electrifying your spine and travelling in waves up and down your back. He licks at the side of your neck, a long stripe from your collarbone up to your jaw. He plants soft kisses along it until he reaches your lips. Slowly he lifts himself up to look at you, hovering over you.

His arms are like a cage on either side of you, your leg trapped against his arm. If you were to straighten it, your toes would tickle the dark lining on the roof of the car. The chains around his neck sway with every thrust, all ending up tickling the centre of your chest. You reach for them and wrap them once around your finger.

“I want you to be rough,” you tell him. He looks at you, the seriousness in your eyes. He’d like to wipe away your fears, your need to push him away while simultaneously pulling him in. He considers it, giving you what you ask for. But it’s only part of the script you’ve written in your head to feel better if he were to leave again.

“No,” he says and leans down, touching his lips feather light against yours. He rocks down and watches you take a deep breath. He feels you pulse around his cock, adjusting to the slow invasion. “I’ll give you rough when you believe when I say I’m not going anywhere. Not without you.” He sees your resolve crumble immediately. You’ve been caught, you both know it. You’ve kept yourself from feeling anything for Lucien while feeling so much for him at the same time, so much so that it has turned overwhelming. Your protection has turned into self-sabotage when he’s the one reaching out while he watches you build even higher walls around yourself.

He moves slow, almost pulling out completely, before pushing back in with a slow roll of his hips, until his pelvis is flush against yours and another breath is drawn out of your lungs. You wrap your hand around the back of his neck, your fingers winding around the curls at the base of it, forcing him to hold his forehead against yours. The chains slip from your hand and hang loose once again. They tap against your chin with every little move he makes.

“I want to hear it,” his voice rumbles and buzzes in your ears. You squeeze your eyes shut tight, while he demands your attention with the push of his hips. The arm that was supporting your leg at the bend of his elbow suddenly secures the sole of your foot against the passenger seat while your ankle presses against the center console.

You open your eyes just as you feel his fingers slip between your legs, his thumb finding your slicked clit without much trouble like he has mapped out how you like to be touched. He gathers even more of your wetness from around his cock and circles the sensitive nerve endings in sweet circles, making your eyes roll back into your head and your back arch off the leather seats.

“Tell me,” he demands softly, bringing you back from losing yourself to the pleasure. He doesn’t stop touching you, only slows down the circles, just like he slows down his thrusts to be a continuous movement, in and out, keeping your pleasure on high alert and your orgasm ever present, but not letting it take you away from him, not just yet.

“What?” You gasp out when he once again reaches deep, tilting his hips up.

“Tell me you believe I’m not going, and I’ll give you rough.” You moan out at the feel of his thumb suddenly losing pressure for it to only move up and down against your clit.

The words are on your tongue, catching the humidity of his breath. You’d want to believe him, you’d love to believe him. But you can’t.

You know this isn’t the first time he’s back in the city. He has come and gone many times, and you’ve only heard about it afterwards, when he’s long gone already. And every time, even when you hadn’t seen him, it had reminded you of how he left when you were still a couple of kids, trying to navigate the world that seemed too big and too small at the same time.

You’d want to tell him you believe him. You’d want to have enough faith in yourself to not break apart when he will eventually leave. You’ve been seeing each other for a couple of months now, but the fear is still there, only growing stronger. You wait for the moment, when he’s just gone.

You force yourself to look at him in the eye, to see the dark pleading in them. To believe him. He sees the same in yours. To not hurt you. He shoves himself in you and holds the tears in your eyes with heartbreak in his.

He gets it. There’s nothing he can do, or say, to make you change your mind about him. He pushes himself up and runs his large hand down your soft side, his thumb tracing the line of your bra under your breast.

You brace yourself for what he’s about to do when your request from earlier hangs heavily in the humid air between the two of you. His eyes rake down your clothed front, sees the budding bruises of his mouth right by the edges of your bra. Your dress, which he hiked up to your waist, has gathered the few drops of sweat that have dripped down from his face.

Last, his eyes fixate on the gleam of your lips around his length, how he still hasn’t stopped the push and pull of his hips, drawing out more and more of your slick. He thumbs at where you’re joined, earning a groan from you that invites him closer to cumming. It’s your final warning for what’s to come.

The air smells of sex, heady and thick. He grinds his teeth together and breathes deep. His thighs are on fire from kneeling between your legs for so long. Some of the seams on the seats chafe against his legs.

“Just do it,” you cry out. Your voice isn’t only asking for him to take you however he pleases. You’re pleading for him to do what you expect from him. To take what he wants, and to leave.

Without waiting any longer, he digs his fingers into your hip, squeezes the supple roundness of your bottom and slams himself into you, starting a ruthless rhythm. You scream out before you manage to cover your mouth with your hands. You breathe harshly between your fingers while he takes and takes, forcing you to gasp out your moans.

It's too much, his hold, his thumb on your clit, the thickness of him between your legs, in you, his grunts and heavy breaths that intoxicate you. You love to hear his voice when he’s close. It’s the most erotic sound you could ever think of. You record it in your mind, only to repeat to yourself when you know thinking about these moments together won’t cause too much pain.

He does this thing where he reaches deep inside you, presses his whole length against the squishy, most sensitive parts of your flesh, and uses it with abandon. You can’t hold in your moans behind your hands anymore; the sound only turns into whimpering screams.

He doesn’t stop. He’s giving you what you wished. Your birthday wish. He abuses the softness of your pussy repeatedly. He forces your palms off your mouth and wraps his hand around them to push them against the door so you can scream your pleasure into his mouth.

Your blissful climax topples you off your awareness. There’s only Lucien, guiding you through your orgasm with slowing thrusts when you squeeze around him. He gasps into your mouth and licks into it, against your tongue, and lets you ride it out, but he doesn’t stop.

He listens to your whines and makes them the sound that encourage him to cum. With weak arms you fight his hand off yours, and wrap them around him, the other under his silky shirt, the other in his thick, damp curls.

You kiss him with newfound fervor, barely hanging on to your rationality while he makes you forget yourself in the intense pleasure. Pins and needles run up and down your skin, it’s almost painful.

“Let go for me, Lucien, cum for me,” you manage to mumble against his lips. He gives out a ragged moan when the grind of his hips stutters. His whole body trembles. Sweat pours down his temples, down his neck, and his chest glistens in the half light of the hidden parking lot with a blush that has crept up to his cheeks.

He catches his breath against your neck with shuddering exhales, his moans heating your skin. You massage the back of his neck and allow yourself to close your eyes. You imagine what it would be like to let him love you, to let yourself relax without any uncertainty. You’re still split open by him, and if you could, you wouldn’t mind staying like this for longer.

Lucien opens the door and lets the cooling night air slip into the car. You push yourself up and with shaky fingers try to close the buttons that will hide the hickeys he left on your breasts.

He leans his head back against the headrest. He pushes his hand through his drying curls, leaving them tousled. You try your best to make your hands stop shaking, but they don’t. It almost seems like it’s getting worse.

“Let me,” he whispers, and you’re met with his quietness as he reaches towards you and steadily fastens the small buttons, covering your skin.

“Lean back,” he tells you and you do as he wishes. He gets something off the floor, which you recognize as the lace of your panties. He maneuvers them on you, and up your legs until you have to push your hips up and you replace his hands with yours. He sees the mess between your legs, his cum that is slicking the insides of your thighs.

“Was this what you wanted to give me?” You ask, almost hopeful that he’ll say yes. He looks up as he lifts his own hips to pull his trousers back up the rest of the way, closing the button right under the softness of his belly.

He shakes his head once and accompanies it with a chuckle. His eyes stay the same, rich and admiring, serious and playful at the same time. He buttons up his shirt while you put space between the two of you.

Suddenly, even after all the times you’ve fucked, you’re nervous. You don’t like to feel vulnerable around him, when it only means that you’re putting yourself at risk.

“No,” he finally says and reaches for the center console between the two front seats. Inside is a small box that he hands to you.

“Happy birthday.” It comes out so much deeper than it did before, full of the remains of his lust for you. You take the box and manage to get it open.

“It reminded me of you,” he says when you see a small, dark green gemstone pendant on a thin chain. You swallow against the dryness of your throat and touch it with the tips of your fingers.

“Let me,” he tells you softly and takes the box from you. You turn your back to him and close your eyes to fight the tears that are threatening to spill onto your cheeks.

The chain feels cool at first, but then burning hot when he closes the lock behind your neck and traces the metal against your skin. You turn back towards him and look at the gem between your fingers. Even in this faint light you can discover vivid red flakes on the surface.

“Thank you,” you reach for him and close him inside your arms. He buries his face against your neck and kisses it, the chain pressing between his lips and your skin.

“Want to go back?” He asks and with a trembling sigh you separate from him. You let him pull you out of the car and to your feet.

He straightens your clothes. The dress you chose to wear just because you knew he’d like it on you and which you hoped he’d take off you. He brushes his thumbs under your eyes and over your forehead and combs his fingers through your hair to make you look at least somewhat like you weren’t just fucked in someone’s car. The fresh air clears your head. It cools the deep burning in your chest and the dripping cum in your panties. It lets you close your heart from him again.

“Yes,” you say and lead him back towards the party, while you’d want to turn around, get back into his car and ask him to drive you away from here. He could take you anywhere, and you wouldn’t say no.

#lucien flores x reader #lucien flores x f!reader #lucien flores x female reader #lucien flores x you #lucien flores x f!plus-size!reader #lucien flores x plus-size!reader #lucien flores smut #lucien flores fic #lucien flores fanfic #lucien flores fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character fanfiction #katsheadincloudswrites #summer nights you and I

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munson-blurbs · 8 months

Note

IT'S SPOOOPY HALLOWEENIE!

Dum-Dum.* Kit Kat. Eddie.

*"I don't know what that is" - in an Australian accent.

Idiots in love/Artist!Reader/Eddie Munson

Warnings: drug use (weed), reader can be read as gender neutral, mention of Billy Hargrove, sitting on Eddie's lap

WC: 778

Divider credit to @saradika (also, Dum-Dums are a brand of lollipop)

Knock knock.

The sound of someone at the door startles you, drawing your attention from your unfinished sketch and to the curly-haired boy clutching a piece of paper in his ringed hand.

“Sorry, uh,” Eddie says with a nervous laugh, “didn’t mean to scare you.” When you don’t reply, he looks around the otherwise-empty classroom. “Is now a bad time, or…?”

You gather your thoughts, heart pounding a mile a minute at the sudden interruption. “N-No, you’re fine,” you stammer. God, he’s so cute. Cheeks tinged red with bashfulness, free hand shoved into his back pocket, frizzy curls brushing against his denim-clad shoulders. “Something I can help you with?” you ask when he remains standing in place.

“Oh! Um, yeah.” He shuffles over to you, as though reminding himself to put one foot in front of the other. “You draw, right? Like, sketches and stuff?” He winces at his stilted attempt at an opening, especially given the fact that your sketchbook is open right in front of you.

“Mhm.”

“Cool.” Eddie nods. “Could I ask you to draw this? It’s for my uncle’s birthday next month.” He hands you the photo, and your heart instantly melts. It’s a picture of him and who you assume is his uncle, and Eddie can’t be much older than ten years old. He’s wearing a blue shirt with an S in a diamond hastily drawn on the front. A faded red towel is tied around his neck in a makeshift cape. The older man stands behind him, half a KitKat bar hanging from his lips like a cigarette. “It was my first Halloween with him.” The first time I ever celebrated Halloween, actually, he thinks, but keeps that information to himself.

You carefully study the photo, careful not to leave fingerprints on it, even though there’s already a smudge in the corner. “I, uh, I don’t know what those stains are,” Eddie mumbles. “I can’t offer a lot of money, but if you smoke…” he mimics taking a pull from a joint, “I can hook you up for free.”

“You sure?” You wrinkle your nose. “I don’t want you getting in trouble or anything.”

Eddie dismisses the notion with a wave. “What’s he gonna do, call the cops?”

“Fair enough,” you agree with a smile.

You hadn’t realized that when Eddie had offered to smoke you up for free, he’d meant smoking with him. Over the next few weeks, any free time that wasn’t spent drawing the photo of him and his uncle–whose name was Wayne, you’d learned–you spent with him in a haze of marijuana. Sharing giggles, splitting family bags of potato chips when the munchies inevitably hit, snuggling up on his couch and sleepily watching sitcom reruns consumed your afternoons. To an outsider’s perspective, it looked like you two were together. Truthfully, you had no idea what you and Eddie’s status was.

“Oh! I almost forgot,” you sit up suddenly, shifting under the blanket and reaching for your backpack. “I finished this last night.”

Eddie’s bloodshot eyes go wide, and you swear that their glassiness is fueled by more than just pot. “This is…wow,” he breathes out, shaking his head in disbelief. “This is even better than I imagined.” He doesn’t know the technical terms for what you’ve done, but you’ve perfectly captured their enthused expressions, the joy in their eyes evident even just through pencil shading. “You’re amazing.”

And maybe it’s the compliment, or the high, or the way he’s been nestled into you for the last forty minutes, but you tilt his head towards yours and kiss him. Your mouths collide clumsily, and he seems shocked at first, but he quickly eases himself into it to deepen it. One hand cups your cheek while the other pulls you onto his lap so you’re straddling his lithe waist.

“Wanted to do this for a long time,” he murmurs into you, not wanting to fully break the kiss. “Ever since I first saw you, I thought you were so goddamn pretty.”

“I’ve had a crush on you since you jumped on the cafeteria table and called Billy Hargrove out for leading all those poor girls on,” you admit with a laugh. “He turned bright red.”

Eddie inhales, shrugging his shoulders haphazardly. “Earned myself a pretty little black eye for that.” His nose nudges yours as he leans in to kiss you again. “But it was totally worth it if it meant you noticed me.”

You pull back slightly, taking in his beautiful brown eyes, the tiny patch of stubble where he’d missed shaving, the flyaway hairs on his temple. “Can I keep noticing you?”

“I’d be sad if you stopped.”

#trope or treat #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson stranger things #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #fanfic #stranger things fanfic #eddie munson fluff

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ghouljams · 3 months

Note

jumping off of that other anon about love and war: discussion on pieces of art (like the Brunswicker) or poetry (Lord Byron) who combine that sense of devoted love and helplessness. love recites Byron to simon and it turns him on, not because it's Byron, but because it's her (and he loves the way her mouth moves)

I watched thee when the fever glazed thine eyes

Yielding my couch, and stretched me on the ground

When overworn with watching, ne'er to rise

From thence, if thou an early grave hadst found.

Ghost is absolutely entranced by every part of this woman, but her mouth? The way she smiles at him makes his heart stop. The way she talks to him is like music, he can't help but want to listen to her for hours. He's down astronomical. Love is awful for his sanity and yet he can't turn her away like he does everyone else.

It's just- She's smart. She's smart enough to know better than to like him, than to go after a guy like him, and yet here she is. She perches on his desk to read Vonnegut just so she can turn to him and point out her favorite section, or ask his thoughts on whatever philosophy the book is lecturing. Love is the sort of pretty he'd never go after at a bar, the sort that has too much life to be bogged down by the type of love he has to offer. Absolute, rabid, devotion. And yet! And yet she knocks on his door, and leaves little notes in his books, and takes an interest in him in a way that no one else has. He almost touches her on purpose once, just to check that he hasn't imagined her. He thinks better of it.

Love jokes with him, to him about him. She's so... lovely. She's a fountain of knowledge, always inviting him to drink, and where he thought once that he was drowning in a sea of people he finds himself parched. He's alone when he's not with her. He finds his eyes on the lecture hall doors, watching for her. He tracks his time for office hours closer, waiting an extra few minutes for her. That's how he finds himself in her lectures, drawn to her when he can't stand being away any longer. He hovers in the back, unsure why he's even there, though he always comes with an excuse, and wonders why he enjoys her flirting so much.

She's discussing the anthropological importance of "heroes" the way that humanity craves the safety of them. The shift in ideals, the Byronic hero. Ghost wonders if this might not serve a literature class better, he glances at a nearby student's notes and sees the class is cross listed: "Human evolution through story telling." He got his times wrong, this isn't the philosophy one.

"Speaking of heroes," Love grins, and Ghost knows that's for him, "Simon, my favorite Byronic gentleman, here to recite some poetry for us?" God the way she says his name, he might need a pace maker to keep his heart beating the way it's supposed to. He holds up a paperback, and she shakes her head. "Knew I forgot something."

Love holds her hand out, and despite his better judgement Ghost walks down the lecture hall steps to hand the book to her. She flips through the pages, and almost seems disappointed. He's reminded of the little notes she leaves him in the books she returns. That's different though, those are in scholarly texts, this is a copy of Kafka's "Metamorphosis." She already heard his thoughts on it. Maybe not all of them, she'd started leaning too far over and he'd had to kick her out before she noticed him staring down her shirt, but enough.

"Not a poetry guy," Ghost tells her, she always seems to perk up when he talks. Now is no different, the light comes back to her smile as she glances up at him.

"I can start it off." She offers. Ghost hesitates, glancing back at the silent lecture hall, and gives a short nod.

"I watched thee when the foe was at our side,/ Ready to strike at him—or thee and me,/ Were safety hopeless—rather than divide/ Aught with one loved save love and liberty." He watches that pretty mouth shape the words, his head tipping with a gentle shake. One loved, together intertwined even in hopelessness. Love and Death, it's funny... he actually knows this one.

"I watched thee on the breakers, when the rock/ Received our prow, and all was storm and fear," Ghost swallows, frowning against Love's eager stare, something woefully soft in her eyes feels as sharp as a knife when he meets them. He looks away, finds more eyes, looks back. He lowers his voice, feels the rasp of it in his throat, the sticky promises he wants to make, hidden behind a stranger's words, "And bade thee cling to me through every shock;/ This arm would be thy bark, or breast thy bier." She's so dangerously close to him, stupidly close with those sweet lips curved like sin into a smile. "Love dwells not in our will." Ghost breathes.

"You're skipping ahead," Love leans in to whisper. Ghost can't help the way he leans as well, the tip of his head and aborted raise of his hand. Ghost stiffens, straightens and turns to go. He can't be around this woman any more. She's going to be the death of him. "Bye Simon," She calls after him.

"Dr. Riley," He grumbles. One student sitting on the aisle notes in the group chat later that they aren't sure if he was correcting her, or extending a similar goodbye, with a teeny-weeny Freudian slip.

#x oc #simon ghost riley #cod x oc #ghost x oc #ghost mw2 #ghost call of duty #oc: love #professor au #professor!ghost #f!oc #simon riley x oc #simon ghost riley x oc #Love and Ghost talking about Cat's Cradle #Ghost has never been more in love with someone in his life

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voxmortuus · 11 months

Note

187. "Use my thigh" for Ford Brody please? 😘🙏🏻

✧*̥˚ PAIRING: *̥˚✧ Ford Brody x F!Reader ✧*̥˚ UNIVERSE: *̥˚✧ Godzilla ✧*̥˚ WORD COUNT: *̥˚✧ 212 I try to keep imagines under 500 words. ✧*̥˚ TRIGGER WARNINGS: *̥˚✧ Needy reader in public | Brody trying to find compromise | Reader grinding against his thigh in public | PLEASE TELL ME IF I FORGOT ANYTHING!!! I want to make sure readers are fully aware of what they are getting themselves into when they read this… ✧*̥˚ NOTES: *̥˚✧ Smut below the cut. Go here for more General Smut Prompts by @airaibunny also send me more prompts!!! It's been a hot minute since I've done an imagine! ✧*̥˚ IMAGE & DIVIDER CREDIT: *̥˚✧ @nyxvuxoa ✧*̥˚ My Master Masterlist | Aaron Taylor-Johnson Masterlist *̥˚✧

Imagine you're in an airport waiting for the next flight but the mood strikes you. You want release and you want it now. Going to the bathroom was out of the question.

"Hey..." you lean in and whisper.

"Hey, what's up Babygirl?" he asks you.

"I'm horny." You chuckle softly in his ear.

He slowly looks at you and arches his brow. "Is that so? Here? Now?" He chuckled.

You bite your lip and nod eagerly. Searching his face. "I want to feel all good and loose... but I need your help." you say softly with an almost pout.

He looks over you and tilts his head in a small thought. "Well, you can use my thigh if you want..." He smirks.

Nodding you giggle and move to sit on his leg and wrap the blanket around you and lean forward and begin to move your hips slightly and you whimper softly. "Thank you..." You whisper.

"Just remember Babygirl, you gotta stay quiet." He states softly.

Nodding you lean into his neck and move your hips at that perfect angle, your breathe against his neck ass you let off small whimpers trying not to give away what you're doing, thankfully no one was really paying attention... at least that you're aware of.

#Ford Brody x reader #Ford Brody smut #Ford Brody Imagine #Ford Brody fluff #Ford Brody fanfic #godzilla #aaron taylor johnson godzilla #aaron taylor johnson fanfic #aaron taylor johnson smut #aaron taylor johnson x reader #godzilla fanfic #aaron taylor johnson tangerine #aaron taylor johnson #aaron taylor johnson gif #Ford Brody gif #voxmortuus

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midwestmade29 · 3 months

Text

Cuffed 😏

This was a spicy request that I just couldn't turn down 😁 I hope I did it justice and turned it into something you will enjoy! This one is for you @madhatterbri 🖤

Disclaimers: Oral sex, unprotected sex, restrained with handcuffs, cursing, mention of injury. Read at your own discretion 🙃

Word count: 1,544

Divider by: Me 🙂

GIF is not mine

Side note: Yes, I know about the reports on Hangman's ankle. I'm not going to spoil anything for anyone in regards to it, but I'm aware that my story may or may not follow what's going on in the "real world." We just out here having fun 🤷🏻‍♀️🙂

You try something new to help distract your cowboy from his thoughts…

Last night, Adam had a big 6-man tag match that was pretty eventful to say the least! Everything was going well until the end, when he rolled his ankle after Samoa Joe tried to do a muscle buster on him. While you watched the events unfold on the monitor backstage, your heart almost stopped when Adam slid out of the ring and onto the floor. He was wincing in pain and urging the cameraman not to show him in his current state. The look on his face when he walked off limping and needing the assistance of Doc Sampson was very concerning! After being examined in medical, it was determined that he had a mid-grade ankle sprain and was sent home with specific instructions from Doc to ice it and stay off it as much as possible for a few days.

The next day you and Adam flew home, his ankle still sore and swollen. You did your best to ensure that he was following the doctor’s orders, but he was starting to get restless. You were sitting next to him on the couch catching up on the tv shows you missed while you were gone, when you noticed his mind was somewhere else. You scooted closer to him, placing your head on his shoulder, “Just a few more minutes with the ice, and then you need to keep it elevated. Can I get you anything?” Adam only sighed and shook his head “no,” prompting you to get to the bottom of his somber mood. “What’s wrong, baby? What’s on your mind?” “I’m just frustrated. This injury couldn’t have happened at a worse time, you know? The PPV isn’t that far away, and I can’t miss it,” he explained while running his fingers through his hair. “I just hope I’m good to go by then,” You were going to offer some words of comfort, but Adam stood up and started to walk away. “Where are you going?” your voice was laced with concern. “I know I’m supposed to sit, but I just can’t. I’m going to take a shower.”

You had high hopes that the hot water would offer Adam some relief from his thoughts, but when you walked into the bedroom you were sadly mistaken. He was leaning up against the headboard with his towel still wrapped around his waist, mindlessly scrolling through his phone. “Hey, feel any better?” you whispered in his direction. Adam tossed his phone onto the bed and sighed, “Not really. I wish there was a way I could shut my brain off,” You were walking towards him, lost in your own thoughts about how you could cheer your cowboy up when something silver and shiny caught your eye on the dresser. A mischievous smile crept across your face as you picked up 2 metal objects and tossed them on the bed in Adam’s direction. “What’s this?” he asked while reaching towards the objects. “Handcuffs? What are these even from?” Instead of taking a seat next to him on the bed, you straddled his lap, causing his towel to shift underneath you. You leaned forward and wrapped your arms around his neck and spoke softly, “Well, they were a gift for a bachelorette party I went to last week, but I forgot to put them in the gift bag. I was going to return them, but now I have a better idea,” Your words made Adam’s eyebrows raise in surprise and his lips to part in curiosity. “I see. So, what’s your idea then?” You brought your lips next to his ear and spoke low and slow, “Let me handcuff you. I’ll take care of you and help you relax. No touching, no thinking. Only feeling,”

A quick conversation and some ground rules later, Adam surprised you when he agreed to let you handcuff him! He needed the distraction from his injury, and you wanted to provide exactly that for him. “Get comfy and raise your arms,” you instructed. With 2 clicks, Adam’s hands and wrists were securely bound to the bedframe. You couldn’t help but chuckle when he tugged on the handcuffs and they rattled against the metal frame, “Are you ready, baby? Just sit back and let me give you a show," With a peck on his lips, you backed up from him and he watched your every move. You pulled your shirt up your torso and over your head before tossing it on the floor, placing your hands under the waistband of your pants and sliding them down your legs. When your breasts sprung free from your bra, you could’ve sworn you heard Adam curse under his breath! Once your panties joined the rest of your clothes on the floor, you stood at the end of the bed causing Adam to forget momentarily that he was restrained until the clank and clang reminded him. “Be good for me and I’ll let you go. If not, I guess you won’t be laying a finger on me tonight...”

You positioned yourself in between Adam’s thighs, undoing the twist he had on his towel that was keeping it securely in place. His hard length was set free when you pulled the towel away, both of you were more than ready for you to dive in. He sucked in a sharp breath when your lips made contact with his tip, planting kisses all around it. You drug your tongue up the vein, making Adam squirm and strain against the handcuffs. You took every inch of him inside your mouth and began working your magic. His pants and soft moans filled the bedroom, encouraging you to continue exactly what you were doing! “Fuck, Y/N! That pretty little mouth of yours, taking me so well! If you don’t stop, I’m going to cum down your throat!” You had no intention to stop or slow your pace, even when Adam warned you one last time. His body shuddered against you when he came, the handcuffs forcefully clashing against the headboard. He was a panting mess as he tried to catch his breath, making you smile as you wiped the corners of your mouth! “Are you going to release me?” Adam asked breathlessly. You maneuvered your way up the bed and straddled the cowboy once again, biting and kissing his neck while murmuring against it, “Release you? I don’t think so! At least, not right now baby. I’m not done having my way with you just yet,”

It didn’t take long for Adam to harden under you while you kissed him and spoke filth into his ears. You positioned your entrance on top of his length and began lowering yourself down on him. You groaned into the air with every inch you took inside of you. His cock stretched you in the best way, filling you completely when you rocked yourself against it. “Shit! You feel s-s-so good, Y/N! Yes, just like that baby,” Adam encouraged. Between the sound of your bodies connecting, the cursing and moans, and the sound of metal scraping against metal, there was no denying that the two of you were enjoying yourselves! The pressure deep inside you continued to build, just begging to be released with each rock of your hips. “I’m so close Adam! So, fucking close!” you cried out. He began thrusting himself inside of you, hitting new spots that drove you wild! You could tell that he was losing himself in pure ecstasy too when he begged you to set his hands free, “Undo the handcuffs, Y/N! Please, I…fuck! I need to touch you!” There wasn’t a lot of time to spare as you felt your orgasm getting closer and closer, so you gave the handcuffs your best try when you attempted to undo them! Unfortunately, the “easy release lever” wasn’t so easy to use after all! “Adam, I-I can’t get it! I can’t undo them!” you said in a pleasure filled panic. Your cowboy wasn’t about to let anything hold him back from touching you, so he pulled and tugged the handcuffs with incredible force, causing the little chain links to bend and break! “Oh my God!” you gasped when you saw one broken handcuff on each of his wrists. His hands were now gripping your hips tightly and the dangling metal lightly scraped against you as your orgasms ripped through each of you! You collapsed onto his chest from the intensity of it, and he wrapped his arms around you. You moaned and hummed against his bare chest as you welcomed each wave of pleasure that continued to crash over you.

Once you were steady, you removed yourself from him and rolled over onto your side of the bed and began to giggle at the mess you had made of Adam, “I cannot believe you broke the handcuffs!” you playfully scolded. “How are your wrists? Are they okay?” It took a few seconds for him to respond since he was still coming down from his high, but what he said only caused you to laugh more, “My wrists are fine, baby. Obviously, the handcuffs are not, and I can’t guarantee the headboard is either. But what I can guarantee is we will be purchasing new ones so I can use them on you next…”

#hangman adam page fanfiction #hangman adam page smut #adam page fanfic #adam page fic #hangman page #adam page #hangman adam page #aew fanfiction #all elite wrestling #aew #smut #adam page smut #hangman adam page x y/n #Spotify

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thezombieprostitute · 12 days

Note

Mace? and a kiss...passionately?

🥹

Thank you, so much, for your patience! This ended up being the first installment of Mace x DC's second arc for the Garbage Men AU.

Frayed

Summary: There are so many new things happening in your life that the only two things you can count on are your boyfriend, Mace, and that your life is almost always in danger.

A/N: Reader is female. No physical descriptors used.

Word Count: ~1k

Warnings: Implied violence, Talk of guns. Please let me know if I missed any!

Mace hangs up the phone after Curtis tells him the news. He’d suspected Franco would be doing his own thing. After all, Wilford & Gilliam was crumbling from the lawsuits and they couldn’t afford to keep him paid, let alone under their thumb. At least there was one thing they could easily predict: he was targeting you.

Even though Franco the Younger’s body had never been found, and never would be, he’d last been seen at your trial and the wrong people knew the Family was protecting you. Franco the Elder couldn’t do anything to the Garbage Men or their Family, but he could hurt you. As much as Jake had tried to hide your new job and address there was only so much he could do. It wasn’t likely Franco would find you, but it was still a possibility. And Mace was careful to do everything he could to help you hide.

Part of that was dropping you off at work in the morning and picking you up in the evening. It wasn’t a long drive but he felt better keeping you out of the open air. He’d also helped you get some training with guns. You’d wanted a stun gun but you had to go through gun safety certification courses to get one. Mace had argued that practice with both wouldn’t be a bad thing. The giant brick of a stun gun was now safely secured in your purse, along with your license for it.

You and Mace had adopted the same check-in method as Curtis and Teach. It was nice to send and receive cute, loving text messages throughout the day. Especially when work was frustrating, which it often was. A text, heavy with heart emojis, from you has kept Mace from bashing a malfunctioning A/C unit. A pun from Mace made you laugh so hard you forgot what was angering you before reading it.

By the end of your work day you are exhausted. You’ve been working on the machinery and helping admin with their terminology for grant proposals to get upgraded medical supplies. The work was tiring but at least it was also rewarding. Given the number of people the free clinic helped, you wonder if there should be at least one more in the area. Maybe you’ll bring it up with Mace or Teach.

Mace’s work truck pulls up to the clinic and you enter the passenger seat. You smile at the bag of your favorite takeout.

“Working late I take it,” you comment.

“Unfortunately,” Mace nods. “But we got some suspicious activity from Franco and I wanted to make sure to relay it to you before going back to work.” You nod as you grab some comfort fries. Mace tells you about how they’ve confirmed Franco is stocking up on small arms munition. The current idea is that he’s going to be supplying a group to distract while he goes after his real target.

“I know this is a lot,” Mace says. “But I also know you. The more information you have about a situation the better you’re able to process it.”

You nod your thanks, your mind processing everything with the help of the french fries. “Thank you for that, by the way. You’re not trying to ‘protect’ me by withholding information. I’m really grateful for that.”

“Forewarned is forearmed, right?”

“I don’t know what my arms have to do with it,” you say innocently while giving him a grin.

He chuckles as he pulls the truck up to your apartment building. “If you need me before I get back you call me, okay?”

“Of course,” you say as you lean over the divider and kiss him on the cheek. You give him a wave as you enter the building.

As soon as you’re out of sight Mace’s smile turns sad. He’s supposed to be making up for lost time but his work is getting in the way. The only solace he has is that work also keeps you safe.

“I can’t thank you enough, Mr. Mace,” the resident says as Mace finishes up. “I feel kinda bad for calling you up for an emergency.”

“We’re looking at an upcoming heatwave and your A/C unit isn’t working,” Mace sums up. “Sounds like an emergency situation to me.”

“Thank you for seeing it like that,” she replies. “This has to be the best apartment complex I’ve ever lived in. And I’ve lived in a lot of them over the years.”

“I hear that a lot. I’m glad we can be so good for our residents.”

“Just promise me you’re keeping safe, Mr. Mace?”

“Always,” he affirms.

“I’ve just been hearing such awful rumors from Mrs. Chen, at the corner-store?” Mace nods that he knows who she’s talking about and she continues. “She swears she’s been seeing more people in the area walking around with handguns. Whenever anyone asks they spout some ‘dangerous times’ nonsense. I mean, I know it’s not completely nonsense but still. It just feels like more guns equals more danger, you know?”

“That I do, ma’am.”

As Mace heads back to his truck and gets ready to go home to you, a thought hits him. He texts his idea to Curtis to see if there’s anything there. He’s not expecting an immediate answer so he focuses on getting back to you.

When Mace gets home he smiles at the sight before him. You’re on the couch, watching a show, wearing one of his favorite shirts and a pair of pajama shorts. You smile at him and sit up, holding out your arms, eager to hold him.

As soon as he’s in reach, he grabs your arms, pulling you up, and gives you a most passionate kiss. It’s intense yet gentle in a way that makes your legs weak. His strong arms keep you pressed tight against his muscular chest and you manage to wrap your arms around his neck, deepening the kiss. He moans in pleasure as you return his kiss with the same fervor.

Unfortunately, you need air so you break the kiss, chuckling as his face follows yours, seeking more kissing.

“What brought that on,” you ask.

“Missed you,” he mumbles. “And you look so damn beautiful.”

“You’re completely whipped, you know that?”

“And?”

“And I missed you, too,” you admit before you kiss again.

Tagging everyone who had asked to be tagged in Sparks Fly. Please let me know if you'd like to be added or removed from the list.

@alicedopey

@chibijusstuff

@fluxxdog

@icefrozendeadlyqueen

@jamneuromain

@jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory

@rebekahdawkins

@texmexdarling

#mafia!james mace #mob!james mace #james mace x reader #mace x reader #mafia au #mafia!mace #mob!mace

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jobean12-blog · 5 months

Text

A Place Made for Love

Pairing: Joel Miller x female reader (No-outbreak Joel)

Word Count: 5,081

Summary: You're new to the small town Joel's lived in all his life and just the sight of you has him feeling a certain way so when he learns that you've bought the old bookshop and you're moving into the apartment above, it turns his familiar world upside down.

Author's Note: This one got away from me. I love the idea of Joel just living his life and doing construction and being grumpy and then reader comes along and really gives him a run for his money. Had to include a bookshop for this because along with Joel, it's one of my favorite things. Thank you all so much for reading! Much love always!❤️❤️❤️Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics Thank you Daisy! 🥰

PS Bold font means texts and anything italics is like an inner thought lol

Warnings: grumpy Joel, sassy reader, tension, flirting, softness and smiles, fluff and sweetness

Pedro Pascal Masterlist

You trudge down the canned food aisle feeling completely indecisive but hungry and growing more aggravated by the second.

As you round the next corner you’re sifting through the contents of your basket when you walk headfirst into what feels like the wall.

“Ow!” you yelp as you stumble back.

A strong arm wraps around your waist to steady you and you look up, blinking.

“Better watch where you’re goin’ there darlin’.”

Your body tenses at the feel of him pressed against you and you mutter something inaudible under your breath before slipping from his grasp.

“Not even a thank you,” he muses as he turns to follow you.

“Weren’t you going the other way?” you shoot back.

“Just realized I forgot the pasta,” he says, leaning over your shoulder to whisper the words close to your ear.

You force your betraying body to remain calm at his proximity and then ignore the comment.

“What the hell are you gonna make with that mish mosh?” he asks as he peeks into your basket.

“Why do you care?” you counter with a brittle smirk.

He shrugs as the corners of his mouth turn up into a grin.

“Maybe something to poison you with…that would be nice.”

Your sassy remark makes his whole face light up with a smile and it momentarily roots you to the spot.

With one last disgruntled glance you stomp off in the other direction. “Since I’m new here you’d think you’d be a little more neighborly!”

“Fuck,” Joel mutters as he follows you.

“Ok darlin’.”

“Ok what?” you ask as you turn to face him.

“Maybe…” and he paused, studying you. “I could be a bit more friendly.”

He looks back down at your basket.

“You know if you grab some beans and a pepper you’ll be well on your way to making a great chili.”

“Chili,” you repeat.

You look between him and the basket. “That works. Although…”

“You’ve never made it before?”

At his question you fight back a sigh.

“No. I haven’t. But I’m capable of looking up a recipe.”

“Or I could just tell you about some good take-out places.”

You roll your eyes.

“I can manage to cook my own dinner, thanks!”

At the sarcasm in your tone his grin widens before he starts to step around you, his arm brushing yours with the motion.

“Great darlin.’ Just don’t burn the place down or anything. It’s the only bookshop in the neighborhood and we all love it.”

He winks and saunters off.

The urge to turn around and watch him is almost overwhelming but you square your shoulder and keep your chin up. “I can make chili,” you assure yourself.

Joel sits across from Tommy and sips his beer, waiting for his brother to make a dinner choice.

If Tommy notices Joel glancing too many times at the small bookshop across the street, he doesn’t mention it.

“You’re quieter than usual,” Tommy remarks as he drops the menu and leans back. “What’s on your mind?”

Joel grunts before looking across the street again. “Work.”

“This new job we have is a big one. I want it to go perfectly so they hire us for the rest of it.” Joel continues.

Tommy nods in agreement but he’s battling a smile.

“Somethin’ you wanna say brother?” Joel asks.

Tommy grins. “I might have somethin’ to say.”

Joel grinds his teeth and tightens his grip on the beer bottle.

“Heard you had a little exchange with our new bookshop owner at the grocery store this mornin’.”

“Who said?” Joel asks, pinning Tommy with dark eyes.

“No one of importance,” Tommy shrugs. “You’re starin’ a hole through the window.”

Tommy’s eyes glitter. He’s clearly enjoying himself. “Heard she didn’t back down and run off over your…charm.”

“You’re worse than a school girl. Spreadin’ gossip around.”

That makes Tommy laugh and he takes a swig of his drink.

“Still,” Tommy says. “I can’t blame you…she’s real nice to look at and probably a lot of fun when you get her goin’…which you seem to enjoy doin’.”

“Tommy,” Joel warns as his jaw tightens. “Don’t go sniffin’ around any of that and don’t ask me to explain why.”

Tommy dips his head in understanding, his mouth tight in a straight line but his eyes bright with amusement.

“Not a single sniff. You’ve got my word brother…”

Tommy’s head swings around and his attention settles on something happening in the street. “What the hell…?”

Joel jerks his head in the same direction and in matter of seconds he’s out of his chair and charging through the door.

Without thinking he runs toward you and let’s out a breath when he looks you over, the large pot between your fingers and a garbage bag over your shoulder.

“Are you hurt?”

“No,” you breathe, staring at him. “Where the hell did you come from?”

His relief at the fact that you’re unharmed is obvious even as he takes the pot from you and grabs your wrists, turning your hands over to check.

His skin is warm and his fingers are calloused. The sensations cause your mind to go blank and you stand there motionless.

Once he’s satisfied he looks down at the pot and the black contents inside. He’s still holding your wrists.

“I burnt it,” you say quietly. “The whole upstairs apartment smells awful so I thought I’d better get rid of it quick before the shop started to stink.”

“I can take care…” Tommy begins to speak and Joel whips his head around just now realizing he was even standing there and glares so Tommy snaps his mouth shut.

Joel looks back at you and slowly releases you, the loss of his touch something you instantly feel.

Tommy covers a cough and you drag your eyes away from Joel to glance at his younger brother.

“Hey,” Tommy says and extends his hand.

You reach out and shake it to introduce yourself.

“I was saying I could help you out with that but I think my brother here has it under control,” Tommy quips.

“Damn right I do,” Joel says, hands on his hips.

“Thanks Tommy, I appreciate the offer,” you smile.

Tommy tips his head and walks back across the street to the bar.

Joel’s hard eyes turn to you in an assessing way but he remains silent.

“Aren’t you going to make some shitty remark about my cooking skills,” you snip.

His broad shoulders slump and he holds out his hand.

“Here, give me the bag.”

You hand the bag over and watch as he empties what he can of the contents and then stares down at it with pursed lips.

“Might have to…” he starts.

“You can just get rid…” you say at the same time.

He drops the pot into the bag with a laugh.

It catches you off guard and when he meets your eyes again the surprise is evident in your wide-eyed expression.

“No shitty remarks darlin.’ Just glad you’re ok…and you didn’t burn the place down.”

The last part of his comment trails off into quiet mumblings but you still catch it.

“Couldn’t help yourself huh?” you say but you’re fighting back a small smile.

The two of you stand there on the sidewalk for what feels like forever until Joel clears his throat and you look up at him through your lashes.

“Guess your dinner’s ruined,” he states.

“You could say that. I’ll have to go aimlessly walk around the grocery store some more in the hopes of finding food.”

His large hand runs through his already mussed hair before it settles on the back of his head and he shoves his free hand into his jeans pocket.

“Hey uh, listen darlin’…I’m sorry if I was rude earlier…at the store…and the other times before that. It was wrong of me.”

Your expression softens.

“Thank you, I accept.”

Joel hums and flicks his head toward the bar. “I had just ordered dinner before you came running out. Go in and eat it.”

When you stare at him he plays back his words and realizes they came out as a demand.

“If you want to,” he adds. “Join me. For food.”

You smile and slide past him. Your distinct and soft scent wafts up to his nose and he instinctively inhales, his eyes closing briefly before he starts to move to follow you.

He motions to the small table and pulls out your chair, waiting for you to sit before he does the same. His thick fingers wrap around the fork, making it look comically small, before he hands it to you and pushes the plate closer.

You stab a French fry and pop it in your mouth.

“So Tommy…you guys work together?”

“Yeah. Construction. We actually have a big project coming up in the city. Working on one of the new fancy hotel buildings.

“That sounds exciting. I guess it’s not really a 9-5 job then?”

“Nah, not really. Some days we spend doing small, odd jobs around the neighborhood and other times we’ll be on one job for weeks or months.”

You nod. “What do you do in your spare time? Besides follow women around the grocery store and make snarky comment on their food choices.”

“Gonna hold that over my head for long?” he asks.

You look him over and pretend to think about it. “Not sure yet.”

“Fair enough,” he sighs, noticing you stopped eating and nudging your arm with his elbow. “Eat.”

“Are you always this bossy?” you ask as you chew.

His eyes drop to your mouth and the way you lick the salt from your lips.

“Maybe,” he replies, the sides of his mouth twitching with a smile.

“Fair enough,” you tell him, mirroring his earlier words.

The whites of his teeth appear with his lopsided smile

“You plannin’ on trying to cook chili again?”

“Maybe,” you answer, loving the way his eyes crinkle at your repeated and mocking words.

“So now that you know a little more about me why not tell me why you’re here in our little town?”

He settles his forearms on the table and leans in, watching you with intense eyes.

“Well,” you start with a sigh. “I’ve always wanted to run or own a bookshop but my job in the city was keeping me so busy I barely had time to read and of course it’s easier said than done. For a while I didn’t mind…the work that is. Sure I was busy but I figured my life was just what it was supposed to be. Had a nice apartment, steady job, steady boyfriend…until I didn’t. He broke up with me over a text and then refused to answer my calls and explain why. After that, my job became less and less appealing as did living in the city so when his opportunity came up I had to jump on it as scary as all the change is.”

You wait and hold his gaze. “What are you thinking?” you ask.

“I’m thinking a lot of things,” he says quietly before stealing a fry off the plate.

“Like?” you ask.

Like where I can find your ex-boyfriend so I can give him a proper beating.

When he still doesn’t speak you continue talking. “I’m thinking about the renovations I want to make to the bookshop. It’s nothing crazy. Just some minor changes to make it more of a cozy space.”

“That sounds nice,” he answers. “It could use some upgrades.”

“Definitely. And the door to my apartment upstairs doesn’t even lock! I need to get that fixed first.”

Joel’s eyes narrow at your statement. “That’s not safe.”

You smirk and steal the next fry that’s dangling between his fingers as they hover over the plate.

“Maybe I’ll look up some cute contractors online to come help me.”

He sits back, crossing his arms over his chest and spreading his legs wider under the table. Your gaze moves to the way his biceps pop under the tight fabric of his shirt.

“You could. If you wanted the job done poorly.”

“Are you saying you’d be able to do a better job?”

“Damn right darlin.”

Was this still about renovations to the shop?

With that thought still floating around in his brain he watches you stand and pop one last fry into your mouth.

“Thank you for sharing your dinner with me,” you say before rounding the table. “I like it when you’re nice.”

And I even like it when you’re bossy. Maybe too much.

You kept that last thought tucked away and lean down to kiss him on the cheek before lightly brushing your hand over his shoulder and walking out the door.

Tommy drops into the now empty seat, grinning ear to ear.

“How’d that go boss?” he asks.

“Shut it,” Joel growls.

Later that week with the sun just peeking above the horizon you hear a knock at your door. It startles you into alertness and you sit up with a gasp, dropping your book to the bed.

Your feet hit the cool floor and you ask, “who’s there?,” hoping to keep the shakiness from your voice.

“It’s Joel.”

“Oh,” you whisper, now suddenly even more alert but much less jumpy.

Before you open the door you quickly run a hand over your face and scrub away the sleepiness. You turn the knob and have it halfway open before you realize you’re barely dressed, the only thing covering your body is the old tee shirt that hits way above your knees.

You stop and peek through.

“I’m um…I’m not really dressed. I was in bed reading.”

“Shit,” Joel mutters. “Sorry darlin.’ I didn’t even realize the time. I can wait till you’ve put somethin’ on.”

He doesn’t move away from the door and you open it a little wider before slipping away to grab shorts.

“Fuck,” he mutters quietly but not quietly enough and your lips turn up into a triumphant smile.

When you return you open the door invitingly and then notice the toolbox at his feet and meet his eyes.

His cheeks are dusted with pink and not even the scruff lining them can cover it. It’s hard to hide your smug satisfaction but you do your best.

“What’s that for?” you ask.

“I came to change the lock for you,” he explains hoarsely.

“Oh,” you answer, feeling your stomach erupt with nervous energy. “Why?”

“I’m leaving this morning. To go to the city and start on that hotel job. Won’t be back for a few days. I just…”

He kneels down and starts rummaging through the tool box, metal clanging against metal so you can barely hear him when he adds, “wanted to make sure this place was safe and secure.”

Your fingers fiddle with the hem of your old shirt.

“That’s really nice of you.”

“Well.” He stands and starts working on the door. “I saw you hadn’t done it yet and I didn’t want you calling any random guys.”

“Because you can do it better. Right?”

He doesn’t look up from his work and just grunts his acknowledgement.

You take the opportunity to move toward the small kitchen area and start making some coffee.

“Coffee?” you offer.

He looks up at you as you lean against the counter with your bare legs on display. His eyes drag down the length of them before he shakes his head no.

“Already had a cup thanks.”

He finishes the lock and puts his tools away before approaching. His hand moves to his back pocket and he pulls out some folded papers, setting them on the counter.

“I brought some take out menus.”

“It’s probably too early to be insulted.”

“This isn’t me telling you not to cook. These are just in case you don’t want to cook.”

“Ah,” you answer. “I could have just looked this up online.”

“Yeah well I don’t have your number so how would you know the best places to get take out.”

You stare at him from over the rim of your steaming mug.

“Maybe you should take it,” he says abruptly. “My number…in case…”

“I need cooking advice again?”

He makes an affirmative nod and smiles.

“Ok, what’s your number?” you ask as you reach for your phone.

The relief on his face doesn’t go unnoticed by you and he recites the digits as you punch them in.

When you hit dial on his contact his eyebrows draw together as if he’s trying to figure out where the sound is coming from.

“That’s you. Now you’ll have my number too.”

You giggle and the corner of his mouth lifts a little. “Right.”

You set your coffee down and push yourself up onto the countertop.

With one more almost imperceptible sweep of your legs he coughs into his fist and turns toward the door.

“Thanks Joel!” you call after him.

He waves with barely a turn and flies down the steps.

The rest of your day is spent figuring out the renovations for the bookshop space downstairs. You clean, declutter, and really start to map things out in your head. By the time the late afternoon sun is setting you realize you’ve missed lunch and you’re starving.

“I should try chili again,” you say to yourself.

After a quick and much less exciting visit to the grocery store you head back with a bag full of Joel’s recommended ingredients and get to work.

Two hours later you have a large pot of bubbling and unburnt chili on the stove.

Without thinking too much into it you snap a picture of the food and send it to Joel with the caption, “I did it! And it smells amazing!”

Before you even put your phone down his response dings in.

“Wow darlin.’ Looks amazing. Save me some.”

You’re about to reply that you definitely will when another text comes through.

“And I’m hoping you didn’t burn anything down?”

He follows it with a silly smiling emoji and you answer with, “nope! Everything and everyone is intact,” including your own smiley face emoji.

“Perfect. And I meant it. Save me some.”

“Please…” you type and then send another message saying, “so bossy!”

He responds quickly. “Save me some. Please.”

He adds a kissy smiley face and you giggle before sending one back with a thumbs up.

It’s easy to flirt over text. You aren’t overwhelmed by his masculine and sexy presence. By the smell of him. Woodsy and spicy. And his hands aren’t there teasing to touch you.

All you can think of while you enjoy your bowl of chili is how you can’t wait for him to come back this weekend.

When Joel returns from his trip he rushes home to shower and change. It’s already late but he needs to see you and you should have a bowl of chili waiting for him.

When he pulls up to the bookshop and parks his pickup he frowns at the darkened space.

Maybe you’re out? With someone…

Pushing the invasive thoughts aside he gets out and walks to the large windows, peering inside.

Nothing.

The scuffle of feet pulls his attention away and he catches sight of you sitting across the street by the park, your feet dangling along the pavement.

He approaches slowly, making noise so you don’t get scared. You look up and tense but instantly relax at the sight of him.

“Was wonderin’ where you were,” he murmurs.

“You’re back,” you say. “I have chili for you.”

You half smile but your eyes fall.

His chest tightens.

“Darlin’?” he asks before sitting down next to you.

His thigh brushes yours and his arm is close enough that you feel his warmth.

Your sniffle and hug your arms around your body.

Hesitantly he lifts his arm and rests it lightly across your shoulders.

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

When you don’t pull away and instead lean into his strength he tugs you closer.

“I tried to start doing some work on the bookshop. I just wanted to take off the old and peeling wall paper but I think I fucked things up. I’m not sure how to fix it and really I have no idea what I’m doing. It’s a mess.”

Your confession softens him and he runs his calloused fingertips along your smooth skin, sneaking them under the sleeve of your shirt.

“I’ll take a look at it. I’m sure we can fix it.”

You were so soft. It took everything in him not to pull you even closer and wrap you in his arms.

“It’s a mess. I’m a mess. I don’t know what the hell I’m doing!”

“Don’t do that,” he says. “Don’t put yourself down. It pisses me off.”

You look up at him and gasp. “You? Pissed off? That’s new.”

The corner of his lips lift and his eyes sparkle. “I deserve that.”

You wipe your nose and give him a smile.

“Maybe. But only a little.”

You lean your head on his shoulder and sigh.

“We’ll sort it out,” he assures you.

You look at him with soft eyes full of gratefulness. His gaze moves lower…to your mouth and his lips part as if to speak but the sound of a loud car horn makes you jump apart.

“How about that chili?” you ask as you start to stand.

“Sounds great darlin’.”

You walk toward the building, tensing at his side the closer you get, knowing he’s going to see the disaster you’ve made.

He stops you with a hand over yours.

“For what it’s worth,” he whispers. “I think you’re really brave for comin’ here to start over.”

The tension slips from your shoulders and you take his hand, giving it a squeeze.

“You did it,” you murmur. “I’m still upset but…I feel better. More hopeful.”

He smiles before you turn to unlock the door and your hyperaware of the feel of his hard body behind you. It takes everything in you not to turn around and throw yourself at him but you manage to get the door open and offer him some chili.

The next day, being Sunday, should be a day of rest but your new-found determination has you up and out of bed bright and early, ready to conquer the wallpaper debacle and then some.

You’re saved from wondering where to start when the front door of the shop opens and in walks Joel with a tray of coffee and a bakery bag.

“Hey there darlin’,” he says. “Thought you’d be up and ready to work.”

“Hey back,” you wave.

He fills the doorway with his body and you try to focus on the smell of fresh coffee and sugar.

“That for me?” you ask and point to the tray in his hand.

“Yeah.”

He crosses the small distance and places the tray down on one of the old tables. You reach for the coffee and open the top, inspecting the contents of the cup.

“You know how I take my coffee?” you ask, raising a brow.

“I pay attention,” is all the answer you get.

You stood dumbfounded for a moment until you remembered that you had made coffee the other morning when he fixed the lock on the door upstairs.

“Thank you.”

Your gaze travels to his and there is some kind of silent communication between you. You can’t believe how much he can convey without actually speaking. Your breathing becomes shallower as he continues to look at you and you know, by the determined set of his jaw and confidence simmering in his gaze that things have really shifted.

When he finally pulls his eyes away you let out an audible breath and take a sip of your coffee.

“What’s happening here?” he asks as he looks over the mess of a wall. “You want to get rid of this?”

He moves closer and toys with the wallpaper.

“Yes and then I want to…”

You start rattling off your ideas in a long run-on rambling sentence without taking a break and when you’re finally done you find him eyeing you with both an amused and thoughtful expression.

“Right,” he said. “Well I know a good place to get lumber and all that so we can shop later but for now let’s get this cleaned up.”

He turns and strides for the exit, passing your trash bag from yesterday that was too heavy for you to lift.

“You want this out for pick up?” he asks.

“Yes, please,” you respond.

With zero effort, he tosses the bag over his shoulder and walks out. When he returns he’s carrying his toolbox.

You peer through the window and see his pickup truck and one trip at a time, he brings more supplies and tools.

Grabbing the back of his sweatshirt he drags it up and off, bringing his tee shirt underneath along with it, and you catch a glimpse of what’s beneath.

“Shit,” you mutter.

Now that he’s only in a tee shirt you can see the deep cut of his triceps and forearm muscles every time he lifts or handles something.

“Shit, shit, shit.”

“You alright there darlin’?” he asks when he hears your quiet reflections.

“Huh? Me? Oh yeah, just fine thanks. Um…I want to help so just tell me what to do…you know be bossy. You’re good at that.”

He steps closer with a sideways smirk, his warmth coasting over you, and his gaze falls to your mouth, taking it’s time before finding your eyes again.

“Keep ripping that wallpaper down. I know it looks a mess but you’re doing it right.”

The words themselves hold no sensuality at all but the way he says them, the way he leans in close and whispers them along your ear…it sends a shiver right down your spine.

As the days pass you continue to work and make progress on the shop. Some days it’s just you and Joel and other days Tommy joins you both to help. On the days when Joel has to work he gives you detailed instructions on what to do and how to do it. You’re proud of how much you’ve accomplished together but also on your own.

At the end of the week, with the late afternoon sun already making it’s way toward the horizon, you notice the shop is oddly quiet. No sound of the saw or hammer.

“I have something to show you.”

His low and gravelly voice pulls you from your current task of polishing the small table tops and your nerves fire up.

When you stand and walk closer he looks you over from head to toe. You’re covered in dust and your skin is glowing with a light sheen of sweat.

You look down at yourself then back up at him.

“Is it that bad?” you ask with a halfhearted smile.

“You look beautiful.”

He holds his hand out and you take it, letting him pull you toward the back of the shop.

You step behind the last row of bookshelves and stop short.

“Joel…”

The large bay window is now framed by two brand new floor to ceiling dark shelves. The polished wood gleams in the setting sun and every beautiful accent swirl and grain is highlighted.

“It’s amazing! I just…I love it. Thank you!”

He takes the rag from his back pocket and cleans his hands while he watches you from under the dark strands of hair that have fallen over his forehead.

“Glad you like it darlin’.”

“No. I love it Joel. How can I ever thank you.”

“Have dinner with me…and not here…on the floor of the shop like we do some days. A real date.”

You suck in a small breath and curl your fingers together. “Did you think you needed to build me this to convince me to go on a date with you?”

“No,” he says as he shoves his hands into his pockets. “I was workin’ up the nerve to ask you and this was a good distraction.”

“Oh…” You say the words and your mouth forms a little ‘o’ shape. “I…I mean…of course. I’d love to have dinner with you.”

He looks down at his feet and nods firmly, a smile playing on his lips. “Alright then.”

He starts to gather and pack up his tools. “I’ll pick you up tomorrow at six.”

You shake your head yes and realize you’re not speaking and as he turns to walk away you move forward while calling his name.

One second he’s holding the tool box and the next it’s on the ground next to him and he’s turning toward you. Your momentum brings you right into his chest and his arm wraps around your lower back.

He waits for you to speak, his eyes wandering over the features of your face before focusing in on your parted lips. His fingers splayed along your lower back dig into your skin and he tugs you closer as he dips his head.

Your palms land flat on his hard chest and slowly dance upward along his broad shoulders.

“Thank you.”

The words are just a whisper but you manage to get them passed your lips and he looks like he’s about to speak but instead covers your mouth with his.

The kiss is worshipful but you can feel his restraint in the tense and flexing muscles of his body and your fingers find purchase at the back of his neck and comb through his hair.

His hand slides up your back and he presses you closer as he lifts the other to cup your jaw. The callouses on the pad of his thumb scrape deliciously across your soft skin and he moans like you’re the best thing he’s ever tasted.

When the need for air finally takes over he releases your mouth just long enough to look into your eyes before he dives back in, stealing your breath all over again.

The door to the shop opens, the newly installed bell atop it ringing loud and clear through your kiss filled haze.

“Oh shit, sorry,” Tommy says sheepishly when he appears by the window.

Joel breaks the kiss, his chest heaving with harsh breaths and he stares at your mouth for a few long moments while you cling to him. His hand eventually drops away from your back and his fingers trace along your jaw and then down your neck to pull your ear to his lips.

“Tomorrow night,” he murmurs. “Six.”

@hiddles-rose @lorilane33 @lizette50 @littleseasiren @blackwidownat2814 @kmc1989

#joel miller x reader #joel miller #pedro pascal #joel miller x you #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x y/n #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller imagine #pedro pascal x reader #bookshop

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popcorn-plots · 3 months

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Ao3 Masterlist

IT IS TIME FOR A MASTERLIST!!! YAY!!

(putting this here so I don't forgot about it: notes game also this: medwhump may)

Quick reminder: if you don't like it, don't read it. If, somehow, some external force is making you read the link you clicked on, don't come bitching to me about how much you hate my work. Get it, got it, good? Moving on.

Set-up should be pretty straight forward with three categories of one-shots, multi-chapters, and series. one-shots is subsequently divided into fluff, angst, and smut.

masterlist under the cut, it's a big boi

one-shots

fluff

suprise attack (feat. kisses)

641 words

Gen

Stephen Strange/Wong

"self-indulgent wongstrange fluff. that's literally it."

only the important things

1,386 words

Gen

Stephen Strange/Wong

Stephen finds a label maker. Of course he's going to run around Kamar-Taj and label everything important to him, including Wong.

Love Me Tender

For Jay (@falloutchemicalday)

1,372 words

Gen

Tony Stark/Stephen Strange

Stephen and Tony have been pining after each other for months. Neither of them realize the other likes them back.

Wong decides to take matters into his own hands.

sick day (with cuddles)

2,339 words

Gen

Tony Stark/Stephen Strange/Wong

Stephen is sick. Good thing Tony and Wong are there to take care of him.

angst

waiting for you, for time and all eternity

957 words

Teen

Stephen Strange/Wong

"It was an unspoken agreement.

Stephen would portal to the Kamar-Taj courtyard after a fight or a mission or a trip through the multiverse. Wong would wait, setting up camp under the tree in the courtyard, sleeping in the library, until his husband came home.

No one questioned it. No one dared to question the Sorcerer Supreme. Until Stephen didn't come home and Wong found that part of him left with Stephen."

smut

Wishful Winning

1,442 words

Mature

Stephen Strange/Wong

"Wong is well-known in the world of underground fighting tournaments, but this fight may be his biggest fight yet, simply because of the prize. The prize being a night alone with the highly praised, very expensive, and quite frankly, stunning escort, Stephen Strange."

Salt and Pepper

1,154 words

Explicit

Tony Stark/Pepper Potts

"Tony is turned on by Pepper in the Ironman suit when she shields him from falling rock.

He decides that he needs her inside of him right then and there. Give and take a few days as Tony makes new connections, uncovers the Mandarin and AIM's true goals, saves the president, and blows up his hobbies. Maybe Tony's next hobby is expanding Pepper's strap-on collection. After the maybe-but-not-quite-apology sex (with a possible hint of reconciliation and just a hint of thank-heavens-you're-alive sex)."

Dilatatum Dick

991 words

Explicit

Stephen Strange/Wong

"Wong teaches Stephen the spell from Chapter 4 of what do you do with your kinky sorcerers.

Dilatatum Dick, as it is called."

"lock your door, or I'll do it for you"

1,286 words

Explicit

Tony Stark/Stephen Strange

4 times someone walked in on Tony and Stephen.

1 time they got locked in, 1 time they actually locked the door (and still got interrupted), and 1 time Wong had to make a new rule just to keep them from scarring anyone else.

multi-chapter

By the Stars Above

1/? (in progress)

Mature

Stephen Strange/Wong

"Stephen Strange has an electromagnetic car battery in his chest and Tony Stark ruined his hands in a mechanical incident.

Fate deigns that these two should end up together.

Stephen has other plans."

it wasn't us

2/? (in progress)

Mature

Stephen Strange/Wong

"Stephen Strange gets raped, but only He sees It for what It is.

Even Stephen, who doesn't even know himself anymore, nor does he understand the new voices in his head or the way he's always 'zoning out', isn't sure how to move forward. Stephen only knows what He has said and done, and now it's becoming harder for him to pick out his reality from his fantasies.

It's almost like Thanos all over again, but with three new people making their home in Stephen's mind and a voice that sounds a lot like Him telling Stephen that living isn't worth it anymore."

what do you do with your kinky sorcerers

5/6 chapters (in progress)

Explicit

Stephen Strange/Wong

"Lock them in a room together and hope one of them gets fucked.

Five times Stephen and Wong explore each other's kinks and one time Stephen has to suffer the consequences of a rough night.

Alternate title for Ryu: the DICKering of horny sorcerers (yes that's a real word, and ASS didn't work for anything sooo)"

dirty thoughts (about you)

1/6 (in progress)

Explicit

Stephen Strange/Wong

"Five times Wong dirty talked Stephen and one time Stephen returned the favor.

Inspired by the song Dirty Thoughts by Chloe Adams"

the poets' flowers, the petaled proses

7/? (in progress)

Teen

No Fandom

An anthology (collection) of all the poems I've written, for school or otherwise.

Series

Febuwhump

Series (complete)

28/28 posted

Anywhere between Gen and Mature

Mostly gen, some Wongstrange, and a few Ironstrange

FEBUWHUMP MASTERLIST

pASSing marks

Series (incomplete)

5/? posted

Explicit

Stephen Strange/Wong

Victoria Strange: The Saga

Series (incomplete)

2/? posted

Teen to Explicit

Stephen Strange/Wong

Master Stark AU

Series (incomplete)

1/? posted

Teen to Explicit

Tony Stark/Stephen Strange

Kamar-Taj

Series (incomplete)

1/? posted

Gen

Stephen Strange/Wong

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futureslaps · 1 year

Text

The Captive - Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Hi everyone! This fanfic was inspired by “Bars” by Naavispider and the associated prompt. Please give it a read! Check it out here. Another huge thanks to Naavispider for taking a look at this before I posted it. I’m new on this site, so It means a lot! 💙

Summary: Neytiri grabs Spider before Quaritch can think to hold Kiri hostage. Forced to surrender, he is taken to Awa’atlu. The Sullys are happy their enemy is defeated, but for Spider, things are more complicated than ever before...

P.S.: Neteyam is alive in this because there’s no way Neytiri would accept Quaritch’s surrender if he killed her son.

Quaritch felt the pain before he opened his eyes. A dull throbbing on the rear of his head had appeared the moment he came to. He let out a small groan as he turned himself onto his back on the mud.

Wait, mud?

His eyes shot open to see a canvas roof above him. Where the hell was he?

He moved to sit up, wincing at the pain as several more injuries made themselves known. He surveyed his surroundings. It was some kind of hut. A Na’vi hut, no doubt. A tree stood in the center, supporting the thick canvas around him. It would have been almost charming, were it not for the thick wooden bars dividing the small building in two.

Bars clearly to meant to hold him in.

Memories of the previous day slowly came back to him. The appearance of Sully, the battle with the Na’vi, the Sully kids boarding to rescue Spider…

Shit, Spider

His mind quickly forgot about the rest of the battle as he recalled the confrontation with Sully and his psychotic wife. He’d never considered himself capable of surrendering, much less to his sworn enemy. He’d have fought with his bare hands if it came down to it.

But the image of his son under the knife of Sully’s woman, hatred in her eyes, had been seared into his mind.

It had caught him off guard. Spider had never tried to hide his admiration for his so-called family. He always made sure to let Quaritch know who had taught him one skill or another, and how they were infinitely better at doing it than Quaritch was. He didn’t often talk about the Sullys directly, but when he did, he’d never had a bad thing to say. The thought of his enemies using their own supposed child against him had never crossed his mind.

He had quickly thrown down his weapons and raised his hands, his mind filled with a mixture of shock, rage, and fear. He had tried to goad Sully to kill him, and then…

He guessed the throbbing on the back of his head explained why he couldn’t remember anything else.

His mind went back to Spider. The last time he had seen him, he still had a knife to his heart. Was he even, okay? Was he tied up in some prison shack like he was? He’d be damned if he let them keep his son caged like an animal…

Quaritch tried to ignore his throbbing injuries and started to get up but flopped onto his chest as he tried to move a foot under him. The various cuts and bruises on his body screamed at him, and he let out an involuntary growl.

He looked down at his legs for the first time. A thick length of rope-like material looped around his ankles, then stretched to one of the branches holding the roof of the hut. He could probably take apart the knot, but it was out of his reach, especially seeing as he couldn’t even stand properly.

He resorted to using his arms to pull himself across the dirt floor. His bindings allowed him to drag himself up to the bars, but no further. He prodded the wooden posts. They were old and weathered, but thick and stood firm in the ground.

He turned back and tested the binds. The material was primitive but strong, and he was in no condition to start trying to pull them apart.

He was stuck.

He pulled himself against the supporting tree and sat back.

Why was he even alive? Sully had been ready to kill him on the Sea Dragon.

Was he being toyed with?

Was spider safe?

He sighed as he leaned against the rough bark of the tree, listening to the ocean somewhere in the distance.

What the hell was he going to do now?

(…)

It had been nearly a day since they had returned from the battle, but Jake couldn’t help but stare warily at the makeshift prison on the edge of the village.

He was in there.

The man who had come back from the dead to kill him. The man who had held a gun to his children’s heads. The man whose orders had put his son in a coma from which he may never wake.

Jake let out a low growl as he thought about Neteyam again. He was lucky to even be alive, one of the bullets had missed an artery by a hair’s width.

But he had still taken three rounds from a rifle. He had been on the cusp of death when they had returned to Awa’atlu, and only Ronal’s care had kept him from joining Eywa as Jake had made a desperate call to Norm. Three bullet extractions, countless stitches, and a blood transfusion later, Neteyam had finally been stabilized, but he remained unconscious and weak. Norm said he was hopeful, but it was painfully obvious he was holding off on saying things would be okay.

He hated the pain he felt, and the pain he knew his family was feeling.

And Colonel Miles Quaritch was right fucking there, beaten, and bound, at his mercy. Jake considered the possibility in his mind; it wouldn’t be too hard to…

“You should go to your family, Toruk Makto.” Jake heard Tonowari’s deep voice behind him.

“I know, I’m just… making sure he is secured.” Jake responded, still eying the prison.

“His confines are meant for animals much stronger than any Na’vi is, and the warriors guarding him are strong themselves.” Tonowari responded, moving closer. “You have my assurance he poses no danger.”

“He still shouldn’t be here. No matter where he is, or how he is, he is a danger to my family. We shouldn’t have spared him.”

“He surrendered, he asked Eywa’s mercy.” Tonowari responded sternly. “You know the implications as well as I do.”

“Mercy? Quaritch doesn’t ask for mercy!” Jake spat. “He’d probably kill himself with his own knife if he still had it! On the ship he demanded that I…”

“Do not let your hatred control you, Toruk Makto.” Tonowari responded, calmly, but seriously. “He will face judgement as Eywa commands. He will face a warrior’s trial, not be put down like a beast.”

Jake looked down and sighed. As much as he hated it, Tonowari was right. When Quaritch had thrown down his weapon and raised his hands, he had technically surrendered, and Eywa forbid the killing of a surrendered warrior. Tonowari had been sure to remind him after he knocked Quaritch out with the butt of his spear.

Neytiri holding Spider hostage had shocked Jake, but he still hadn’t expected Quaritch to surrender. He had drawn his own knife and braced himself when he saw the demon’s knife clatter to the floor.

The bastard hadn’t even known what he was doing. He’d asked Jake to kill him as the Metkayina approached, and Jake would have been happy to oblige if it weren’t for Tonowari’s presence.

He had no desire to show Quaritch the respect meant for a true Na’vi warrior, but he respected the Laws of Eywa, and he respected Tonowari.

“Go to your family.” Tonowari repeated. “Do not spend your day obsessing over this demon.”

Jake knew he was right. Quaritch wasn’t going anywhere at the moment, and his family needed him. He took one more look at the hut, then turned and started walking back toward the infirmary.

Two weeks until Quaritch’s trial

Two weeks until he finally ends this

---

I have a general idea of where I want to take this, but nothing is set in stone. Please let me know what you think! Planning a new chapter every few days.

#avatar the way of water #recom quaritch #avatar 2 #spider socorro #miles quaritch #avatar quaritch #atwow #avatar jake

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vaya-writes · 1 year

Text

The Wyvern's Bride - Part 3.4

When Adalyn gets sacrificed to the local wyvern, she’s a little annoyed and a lot terrified. Upon meeting the wyvern, she discovers that he’s not particularly interested in eating people, and mostly wants to be left alone. In a plot to save himself from the responsibilities his family keep pushing on him, Slate names Adalyn as his human Envoy, and tasks her with finding him a wife.

2900 words. Cis female human x Cis male wyvern (slow burn, arranged marriage, eventual smut). firefly-graphics did the divider.

Masterlist - Previous

It's finally here. Please enjoy conflict resolution, gardening, and somebody finally taking the initiative. No notable content warnings. Mild descriptions of food and profanity.

To his credit, Slate does return on time. Adalyn watches him land, guarded and curious, from her spot at the dining table. There’s a thunk as a large wooden crate is set upon the balcony. A billow of shadow, and Slate appears after it, dressed neatly in his human form.

He smiles. “Good morning, dearest!”

“…good morning, Slate.”

“I brought you something.” He waves her over, oblivious to her reticence.

Reluctantly, she approaches. He bounces on his heels and grins at her again, cheeks flushed. His enthusiasm fazes her a little, but she’s not ready to forgive his unplanned absence.

“Open it.”

“It’s nailed shut.”

He hesitates for a beat. “Right. Do you want me to..?”

She gestures that he have at it.

Slate uses his bare hands to pry open the crate. The lid groans and splinters under his touch, before cracking. His strength impresses her, but she doesn’t let it show.

He steps back and removes the lid, now in several pieces, with a flourish. “Ta-da.”

Bags of dirt. No. Bags of fertiliser. And... tools; pots, seedlings. She blinks. Everything she’d need to start a garden. Almost as if he’d read her mind.

Adalyn doesn’t know what to say.

At her silence, Slate’s smile falters, and he musses his hair, sheepish. “You left your garden plans out. I’m sorry I looked without asking. But I already had to go to Cheywyn so I thought I’d pick up your supplies... I can bring up soil from the forest and take you to Fleecehold to get clippings from your old garden. And I was thinking that once your garden is more established we could even talk to folks at one of the apiaries and see about getting a small hive up here-” He hesitates when he sees her expression. “Are you okay?”

Adalyn closes her eyes. She lets out a long breath and takes a moment to compose herself. To relax her jaw. She doesn’t know how to answer his question. Doesn’t know if she should be honest, or if that would be showing too much vulnerability too soon.

“This is a thoughtful gift. Thank you.” She speaks the truth, but struggles to inject any warmth into her tone. Instead she trudges inside and finishes making her drink.

He follows her. Hesitates by the table. “Do you want to talk about it?”

She works in silence. Mulls over her words while she takes a sip of her tea. Then shrugs. “I was - I am – quite upset with you. But you’ve gone and done something sweet and now it doesn’t seem fair to be mad.”

He takes in her dejected posture. Pulls up the seat beside her. Puts his hand on the table, inches away from hers. “You can still be mad. How did I upset you?”

She struggles to meet his eyes. “You told me you’d spend time with me. Show me your armour. And then you left without saying anything.”

He pales. “Ancestors. I completely forgot. I’m so sorry.”

She turns away. “It’s fine.”

“No. It’s obviously not fine. You’ve every right to be upset.” He hesitates, “Look, I don’t want you to even consider the gift until I’ve made it up to you. I don’t want it to seem like I’m trying to buy your affection.” He shifts again, floundering at words. “How else can I make this better?”

Adalyn lets her eyes drift back to him. He really does look concerned.

“I don’t know.”

“I owe you some quality time. Why don’t we go over the armour this morning and the weapons? Unless, of course, you wanted to be alone.”

Adalyn leans back in her chair, arms crossed. She’s still upset. And a petty part of her wants to turn her nose up at Slates offer and sulk in privacy. But she knows she’d regret it.

She scowls down at her drink. Tries really hard to be nice. To be forgiving. To move past the upset, just a little.

“It’d be a start.”

Some of the tension leaves his shoulders. He taps one of her fingers with one of his own. “Did anything else happen? I mean, did I do anything else?”

Her eyes flick to him, before dropping back to her drink. She sits in silence while she tries to straighten out her upsets.

“I wish you’d said something before leaving. Even with your note, I still felt left in the dark.”

Slowly he creeps one of his hands around hers. Absently, his thumb brushes the back of her hand. “I didn’t realise leaving would bother you. Does it usually?”

Adalyn shrugs. She hadn’t expected him to take her so seriously. And with his gentle touch it’s getting increasingly difficult for her to pull away. “I’m used to it.”

She misses his wince. His frown. “Okay. Barring emergencies, I won’t do it again. I’m sorry I didn’t consider how you’d feel about it.”

Adalyn looks up.

He’s completely serious.

She’s surprised by his reaction, and slightly warmed. She’d felt like such a fool, being upset over something so small. He hadn’t made her feel like that at all.

Feeling bold, Adalyn shuffles closer. Leans across the space and rests her forehead against his chest.

“Tomorrow you can make it up to me some more.”

“Yes?”

“By helping me with the garden.”

He strokes her hair. She tries not to melt completely at the touch, but it’s nearly impossible. Adalyn realises that she’s starved for these small affections, and presses her face harder against him.

Her words are muffled, but Slate still hears her when she next speaks.

“Thank you for listening. And taking me seriously.”

He clears his throat. “Uh. Well. Of course. You listen to me every day, even when I talk about boring things.”

“I like listening to you talk about boring things.”

Her face heats at the admission. She wants to pull away, suddenly aware of her proximity, but doesn’t want Slate to see how embarrassed saying that had made her.

There’s a long silence.

“Do you… want to hear me talk about my amour collection?”

She nods. Then, with great reluctance, pulls back, standing and clearing the table before she’s able to meet his eyes again.

“Yeah. I’d love to.”

---

Adalyn barely stirs when Slate touches her shoulder. The room is still dark. The fire burnt to embers.

“Hmm?”

“I’m going to start bringing up some soil. If I’m not back by breakfast, I’ll see you outside.”

“M’kay,” she mumbles, drifting back to sleep.

She forgets the encounter.

The sun rises and Adalyn drags herself from bed. It’s not until she notes the lack of construction noise, which typically rumbles distantly, but surely, that she connects the dots of Slate’s absence. Excitement rises in her, but she ignores it, dressing and eating, focusing on one step at a time. Finally, she makes her way to the surface.

In the first week Slate had carved several doors for her, emerging into the lush and stony mountainsides. The one she uses now had been discussed last night: located halfway down Slate’s Tower and exiting onto a small plateau that clings to the spire’s side.

She adjusts to the sunlight and takes in her surroundings. Her garden supplies are in a precarious pile, and the wooden crate that had housed them is nowhere to be seen. To the side is a large tarp, weighed down by a pile of loamy soil.

Confused, but happy to start, she begins working, filling and placing pots, drawing lines in the dirt. She’s just beginning to wonder how soon she can start building garden beds when a shadow appears overhead.

The missing crate creaks when Slate sets it on the ground, and Adalyn can’t help but wonder how many more trips up and down the spires it can survive. Lid missing, she has a clear view of the dirt inside.

Good morning.

“Hi,” Adalyn greets him, craning her neck and allowing a shy smile. “You’ve been busy.”

The wyvern stretches his neck, and adjusts his wings, allowing them to flare momentarily. It could be construed as a shrugging gesture. Adalyn thinks it looks a bit like Slate preening.

I’m used to early starts.

She hides her smile at the forced humbleness. Then looks over the plateau. “Do you want to build some garden beds with me?”

Shadow streams off of him and he shrinks in size until his demi form remains.

Adalyn blinks, letting her gaze linger over his horns and his scaled cheeks. She doesn’t get to see him like this very often. Especially not out in the light. Aside from when he’s busy digging, or around his family, he tends to present as human around Adalyn.

She uses the chance to stare, greedily taking in the glint of his claws and the shine of sun on his scales. The way his profile changes with his muscles shifted to hold the extra weight. The almost imperceptible change in his stance.

She meets his eyes, and realises she’s been caught staring.

His cheeks darken a shade. “I’m stronger like this. How can I help?”

She forces herself to stare at the unbuilt garden surrounding them. “I’ll need some materials for the garden beds. What do you recommend?”

He rubs his chin, smearing dirt without realising. “Wood will break down over time. You could use it for temporary garden beds and build outwards after. Or reinforce and replace the edges. Stone has better longevity. I’d use larger slabs for an elegant, but basic look. You could do cobbled stone for something quaint looking, but it would take much more work to assemble. Plus, it wouldn’t be as durable, and roots could grow through if we left it unpatched.”

“I like the idea of large slabs. And perhaps some pavers. I don’t want the path turning into mud or washing away every time it rains.”

“Well, I’ve plenty of limestone. I wouldn’t use it for carvings though. It weathers kind of poorly outside. But it’ll work for slabs and pavers. I could size it for you today?”

Adalyn straightens. “That sounds like a plan. Why don’t you bring some out while I get us some drinks?”

The pair part ways. When Adalyn returns to the budding garden, sandwiches and hot drinks in tow, she finds Slate already at work, shaping the stone with his claws, and smoothing it further with a chisel.

She offers him food, and he smiles gratefully, reaching for a sandwich before pausing. His hands are covered in dust. He looks to his shirt, about to wipe them clean, when he notices the garment is also grey with powdered limestone.

She bites back a smile at the defeated expression on his face, picks up a sandwich, and holds it to his mouth.

They lock eyes for a moment, and at the proximity, Adalyn can’t help but flush at the unexpected intimacy.

“Thanks,” he says in a mumble, before clearing his throat and taking a bite.

Slate tries to keep busy, turning back to his work between bites, and discussing with Adalyn. They chose the size and shape, decide against using mortar, and finish eating before Slate starts walking the slabs into place.

Adalyn puts her gloves back on and continues work, filling the first garden bed with stone and soil, while Slate builds and assembles the other beds. By afternoon they’ve built four and filled one, which Adalyn regards with pride.

“Last thing I’ll need is a source of water.”

Slate sits on one of the garden edges, sprawling out. “My fancy bathroom won’t be far. I could probably extend the piping.”

Adalyn tries not to roll her eyes or quip about his growing list of architectural projects. “A rain catcher would also work.”

He looks sheepish for a moment. “I suppose it would. Until Winter.”

“Does fancy plumbing not freeze in Winter?”

“Not if I really shell out. I could have them built from dwarven metals. Or hire an enchanter.”

She does roll her eyes this time. “And I could do what most of the locals do, and not grow crops in Winter.”

He blinks. And Adalyn swears he also blushes. “Yes. I suppose you could do that.”

---

That evening Adalyn accompanies Slate downstairs and offers to help with dinner. He brushes her off with a smile and insists on cooking. Content, Adalyn sits in the dining area during the interim, going over the mail she’d picked up that afternoon.

The pair had made a trip down the mountain to visit Gwen and Grace, and to take cuttings from Adalyn’s old garden. They’d returned one mysterious package heavier.

Adalyn pointedly ignores the lower half of the dining area. The table from the third trial is gone from the walkway, but the memory still lingers. Adalyn puts her back to it when she sits at the dais table, looking closer at the parcel.

It’s wrapped tightly in cloth and leather, in a desperate attempt to keep its contents safe, and when Adalyn opens it, she sees why.

‘St James’ Treatise on Wyvern Physiology’

It’s a hefty tome written on parchment, with detailed diagrams and illustrations, inked in colour. A handful of bookmarks protruding from the top draw the eye, and Adalyn opens to one.

A subheading written in bold jumps out at her: ‘Mating Habits of the Duopedes Draconis’. Adalyn shuts the book and purses her lips. It’s then she spots the letter, nested among the book wrappings. It’s sealed shut with red wax. She eases it open.

“Dear Adalyn,

I’ve enclosed a gift you might find useful. I regret that I was unable to unearth it from my home until recently, but I imagine you’ll appreciate it all the same. I’ve marked some passages you may find particularly insightful.

Unfortunately, the treatise does not go into great detail on wyvern societal customs. By the time my letter reaches you, I imagine you will have run into a few cultural differences in your courting expectations. In case Slate has not thought to tell you, please know that females usually take the lead when it comes to approaching partners. When males assert themselves or make the first move, it’s considered crass, or disrespectful.

I also realise I didn’t explain the reasoning behind your wedding gift. You’ll understand after you’ve done some reading. A small dab on the wrists and neck is usually enough to be noticeable, though I’d advise against mixing scents unless you have Slate’s assistance.

I’ve been busy with my travels this year, but I’ll be nesting at home during the Winter. I’ve attached my return address for your convenience.

Warm regards,

Rin

She scans the letter again, rereading the second paragraph as a knot begins to form in her stomach. A surge of emotions washes over her. Shock. Bewilderment. Irritation. Relief. She’s a bit annoyed at the conclusions Rin is jumping to, but since the female isn’t entirely wrong, Adalyn can’t begrudge her the letter or the advice.

Could Slate have been holding back for these reasons? Sure, it’s still possible he holds no interest in her, but...

Before she has a chance to ponder it further, the wyvern in question emerges from the kitchen, two plates in tow. Adalyn stows the book and letter away in their wrappings, hurriedly. She ignores Slate’s curious stare, and forces a smile. She’s not ready to talk about the book yet.

“What’s for dinner?”

He raises his brow and looks pointedly at the bundle pressed against her chest. He knows precisely what she’s doing, but goes along with it.

“Rabbit. It’s a bit threadbare, but it’s all freshly foraged.”

Adalyn looks over the meal. It’s just meat on a stick, but it’s been seasoned with fragrant herbs and served with a side of greens.

“It’s fine,” she digs in. “Like you’ve said, variety is the spice of life.”

He huffs and smiles, before sitting opposite her and digging in.

Adalyn had only lit the closest torches, and the room is mostly in shadow, the pair seated in the dim glow. Still, the clink of cutlery and scrape of the plates are small sounds in a large room, reminding Adalyn of the cavernous shape to the place. Huddling in the low light, it’s somewhat... cozy.

“I was thinking,” she starts, trying to work up the nerve. Is now really the time?

Slate listens attentively between bites.

Fuck it. If Rin is right, she’d never get anywhere, waiting for him to take the initiative.

“You’ve been working nonstop these past weeks. Perhaps we could take a day off together. Go on an outing?”

He considers. “That could be nice. Somewhere in the valley?”

Adalyn forces herself to continue. To be bold. “I was thinking just us. Maybe a picnic or something? You could show me the east side.”

She’s surprised when he agrees so readily.

“I’d be delighted. When would you like to go?”

She considers. “Well, I want to get those cuttings sorted tomorrow.” And take the time to do some reading. “The day after?”

“I’ll adjust my schedule.”

She huffs at the poor joke. “I’ll look forward to it.”

#the wyvern's bride #monster romance #vaya writes #exophilia #tetaro #dragons #wyverns #my writing #ths took so long not because i had to write a bunch #no like 80 percent of this i wrote last november #but because i had to revise and reorganise scene order #so so much

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