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tightjeansjavi · 3 months

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The Rite of Movement | part one

“honeymoonin’”

part two | first impressions

A/N: I ehm. May or may not have gotten the inspiration for this bc of a porn channel that I watch 🫣 this is not proofread btw! P.S this is my smutty little treat for y’all b4 I drop chapter 11 of slow hands 🥲

~word count: 1k~

Summary: the morning after your honeymoon with your pornstar husband, Joel Miller

Pairing | pornstar!husband! Joel Miller x pornstar!female reader

Warnings: smut, NSFW, mentions of the porn industry, fluff ,established relationship, husband!joel, intimacy, bush love!!, 30’s reader/40’s Joel , oral (f!receiving) Joel has a big cock (canon) silly vibes, sex tape, pet names, reader has no physical descriptions, +18, minors dni!

You and your husband Joel Miller met through the porn industry. The first time you met him before you were set to film together you were immediately hooked by his southern charm. “Well, hello gorgeous. Ain’t you jus’ the sweetest, n’prettiest thing I’ve ever had the pleasuring’ of layin’ my eyes on. Goddamn. Names Joel, and what might your name be, darlin?’” You told him your name and shook hands. After that initial meeting..You kept things professional, but everytime you did a film with him, your pussy and your heart would flutter. You had never said yes faster in your life than when Joel requested to take you out to dinner one night after a late shoot. Burgers, fries, a milkshake for two, and Joel Fuckin’ Miller’s big cock, and his Texas twang.

Once you and Joel officially started dating, you started your own porn channel together and your videos were a hit. The intimacy and chemistry on camera was never faked, and there was real love blossoming between the two of you. People loved it. There was something about casual, real intimacy that really got your viewers going.

The money earned on the films went straight to buying you an enormous rock to put on your pretty finger. Joel spoiled you in every aspect, and you were over the moon when he asked you to be his wife.

One impromptu wedding in Vegas later, Pornhub paid for your entire honeymoon to the Fiji Islands.

In the middle of the king sized bed was a gift directly from Pornhub with a new camera, toys, lube, and a congratulations letter from some of yours and Joel’s fellow adult filmmakers.

You put that camera to good use immediately.

The following morning you awoke to an empty bed, but a note left on the dresser in your husbands penmanship

Goodmornin’, babydoll. I went out for a run, but I’ll be back in a jiffy. Can’t wait to fuck my wife and then feed ya some fresh fruit, and then fuck ya some more. Oh, and I booked us couples massages later this afternoon! Love you so much, honey.

-Joel xx.

You let out a girlish giggle and kiss the note before setting it down on the nightstand.

When he returns he’s drenched in sweat that seeps through the fabric of his t-shirt that adorns his body in all the right places. He’s got that twinkle in his eye, and that dimple poking out of his cheek that you love so dearly.

“Have a nice run, baby?” You grin at him over the rim of your book as he approaches.

“Mhm. S’gonna be an absolutely gorgeous day out there.” He drawls and watches as you set your book down on the nightstand.

“Yeah? Well, I think my husband should gimme his cock so that we can go out and enjoy this gorgeous day.” You curl your pointer finger inwards in a come hither motion for him to come closer.

“Oh, you want my cock? Hmm..what a temptin’ offer that is, honeybun.” He teases.

“But I want you to strip for me first, Joel. Give your wife a little show.” You wink and reach for the camera on the nightstand and flip it on.

“A strip tease, eh? I think I can handle that.” He chuckles and reaches for the hem of his shirt and slowly pulls it over his head just as your thighs slowly spread open over the comforter and your hand slips down between them to lightly play with yourself.

He grabs the waistband of his shorts and playfully snaps it against the lower part of his stomach with a grin before he slowly tugs it down over his hips. His cock is semi-hard beneath the confines.

“Fuck.” You breathe, “I’m the luckiest woman alive.” You beckon him closer and obliges. He takes his lower lip between his teeth when your soft and warm palm wraps around the underside of his shaft, fondling him gently while you hold the camera steady in your freehand.

“Shit. Y’got that all wrong, sugar. M’the luckiest motherfucker alive with the hottest, kindest, most beautiful wife. Fuck.” He hisses between his teeth.

You giggle softly at his reaction and slowly begin to pump your hand around him and twist your wrist in a corkscrew motion.

“And this cock is all mine, right baby? Fuck, it’s so pretty. I fuckin’ love you and your cock.”

“All fuckin’ yours, sugar plum.” He groans and leans down to slot his lips with yours, slipping his tongue past your mouth in a heated, bruising kiss. His cock grows hard and heavy beneath your soft touch and he pulls away only to climb on the bed on his knees, and grab the underside of your thighs to spread you apart further.

“And this pussy is all fuckin’ mine, ain’t she?” He rasps and looks up at you and the camera that is now angled downwards.

“All fuckin’ yours, baby. And she’s absolutely dripping for you right now.”

“Can see that, honeypie.” He chuckles and nips at the sensitive skin of your inner thighs and bites down playfully. He doesn’t mind the coarse, thick, swirling hair on your pussy tickling the patches on his beard. He fucking loves you in your natural state, and he lets you know it by devouring your cunt whole. He kisses and suckles on your clit like it’s the sweetest candy he’s ever had the pleasure of tasting. His jaw goes slack as he laps up your arousal that seeps out of you like sweet honey from a hive. He groans against you, the bridge of his nose buried against the hair on your pubic bone. He inhales your scent, musky, erotic, and all you. He drinks you in, feasts, and feasts while you cry out his name.

Loving Joel Miller came easy, and while he has the biggest cock you’ve ever seen, it’s his ginormous heart that really sealed the deal for you.

When he hears the camera click shut and fall to the unoccupied space on the bed, he grins and continues to eat his favorite fucking meal; you. Until your tugging on the roots of his scalp and reaching down between his thighs to grasp his heavy cock once more and pull him into you.

Fuck your wife like you mean it, Joel.

Don’t gotta ask me twice, sugar.

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#joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #joel miller fluff #soft!joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel x you #joel x reader #joel miller fic #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction #husband!joel miller

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onlyhuis · 5 days

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drenched

member — junhui x f reader genre — smut word count — 2.4k synopsis — the pool isn't the only thing that gets jun all wet. warnings — descriptions of female anatomy, oral (reader receiving), squirting, body worship, pussy drunk jun, mentioned that reader wears a bikini (+ other clothes), they're so horny for each other it's actually just gross notes — requested by anon for my 🐈 1k event — thanks to @onlymingyus for looking over this for me <3 sorry the synopsis is boring asdhgsj i couldnt think of a cooler one. also very very sorry again that it's taken me so long to get to these old requests but i hope you enjoy! please be sure to reblog with comments or send an ask if you liked this :)

if there's only one thing in this world that jun is obsessed with, it's your pussy.

practically every night he comes home, throwing his bag on the chair and pulling you onto the couch, begging you to let him eat you out, just really quick before dinner, please? i'll make you cum so fast, promise, just let me have ten minutes with you.

most of the time he slides your pants down and finds you already wet, knowing the kind of mood he'll be in when he gets home. it's almost impossible to force your mind out of the gutter when you can't stop picturing him kneeling between your legs, his dark brown eyes turned even darker with lust as he watches your face and every single tiny little reaction you have to him.

it's not your fault that you really can't help it if your mind wanders during the day, sending a shiver down your spine every time you think about how desperate he is for you. he'll never pass up the opportunity to bury his fingers inside you, moaning about how good it feels to have your cunt clenching him so tight and how pretty your legs look as they tremble around him.

jun loves nothing more than how wet you get and he'll clean you up with his tongue, his cock throbbing because he knows you're like this for him and him only. he'll gladly spend hours between your legs, groaning about how you're straight out of his dreams; what other explanation could there possibly be for the fact that he gets to come home to the prettiest girl he's ever seen every single day? not only that, but that you let him play with you whenever you want? he feels like he's died and gone to heaven every time you spread your legs apart and let him spend as much time as he wants in that spot.

of course, he has other favorite things, too. he loves fucking you from behind so he can see your gorgeous ass bouncing in front of him. he loves laying back and letting you do whatever you want to him, pushing his shaft between your breasts and grinning when he covers your face in his cum. but nothing compares to having his face smushed in your pussy, his skilled tongue and long fingers reaching places inside you that you didn't even know existed before you met him.

tonight is no different than every other night that he comes home and begs for your pussy. except this time he's got one thing and one thing only on his mind, and it's going to drive him insane if he doesn't have you right this second.

the first time it happened it caught you off guard. your cheeks flushed hot with embarrassment as the drops rolled down his abs coating the both of you in liquid, your legs still wrapped around his waist when he stops thrusting. you started to apologize, until jun lets out a long, low groan and tells you don't you fucking dare apologize for the hottest thing he's ever witnessed in his whole goddamn life and now he's made it his life's mission to making you squirt as much as is physically possible.

you didn't even know you could squirt at all before jun, but he brings a side out of you that you didn't know was there. a side of you so absolutely insatiable, like an unquenchable thirst, and now that it's been unlocked you're addicted to it.

with the rising temperatures and clear, sunny skies that have come after the rain and cold, it's obvious that summer is quickly closing in. it's one of his favorite seasons for many reasons, but the main one is that hotter weather means seeing you in more revealing clothes.

he had never been the type of guy to go feral at the sight of an ankle or an exposed shoulder, but around you it's like he loses all control. the way your shorts hug your ass—jean shorts, pajama shorts, bike shorts, any and all of them. his mind goes blank and all he can imagine is your perfect pussy hidden so teasingly from his view, and he'll do anything to get a taste. teasingly, because you know exactly how he gets and you love to play into it just to make him even more riled up.

you've started buying shorts that are just a little bit too small, just a little bit tighter that show another extra inch of skin. and you grin in satisfaction every single time he tears them off of you and pushes his hand down past the waistband to feel how soaked you are… until he wipes that smile right off your face with just a simple brush of his fingers.

the same goes for your shirts, too. the crop tops that expose your tummy; he loves to run his fingers over your skin, and the short length makes it so much easier for him to slide his hands up to feel your breasts. and don't even get him started on the tank tops; he feels like a virgin all over again, unable to stop his cock from twitching in his pants. when he sees that little extra bit of cleavage sitting so perfectly.

god, he loves every fucking thing about your body. but there is, however, one downside to the summer season.

okay, so it's not exactly like they banned him from the public pool, but they did tell him (in not so nice words) to stop feeling up his girlfriend in the locker rooms, and now he's too embarrassed to ever show his face there again. which honestly is more than fine by you, because if your hand wasn't down his swim shorts jerking him off as you lazily sat beside him in a chaise lounge, then was it really even a good day?

but besides that, the problem is that he can't see you near water without thinking about making you squirt. there hasn't been a single time when you've been out on the backyard patio, drops of sweat glistening on your skin from the summer heat as you hold a garden hose in your hand watering the tomato plants, that he hasn't wanted to push you against the side of the house and take you right then and there. to curl his fingers in your pussy until his hand is more soaked than the vegetables.

or like the time you both stayed at your parents’ house for a weekend while they were on vacation. he'd found you sitting out by the pool reading your book after you've just finished swimming, and the drops of water on your thighs that hadn't yet dried from the sun had reminded him too vividly of how you looked after he made you squirt with his cock. that day you'd needed a second shower, and it wasn't from the chlorine in the pool.

if your mind is in the gutter when you think about him, then his mind is in a place further than hell when he thinks about you.

so really, you can't blame him for tonight. you can't get mad at him after you sent him pictures of the pretty new bikini you'd bought for the upcoming cruise you were going on next month. but not just pictures of the bikini; pictures of you wearing it, your knees spread temptingly in a way that you knew for a fact would get him hard as a rock in seconds.

he's pissed, but more than that he's needy, because he already had to jerk off in the bathroom at work because he couldn't get his hard-on to go down any other way. his own fist will never compare to how good your pussy feels against his face, so it seems as good a place as any for you to start making it up to him for your bad behavior.

he barely gets the front door closed behind him before he's pushing you against the wall, his fingers clawing desperately at your sides as his lips capture yours. it's hot, he’s hot, and the temperature outside has nothing to do with it.

even the air conditioning in your house can't cool you down as he drags you by the waist to your shared bedroom, telling you it would be in your best interests to be waiting naked by the time he comes back with towels because he's not feeling very patient tonight.

you love it when he gets like this, and you grin triumphantly as you pull your panties off and leave them hanging off the edge of the bed, the glistening wet spot on them purposefully noticeable. you already know that you won't be leaving this room until the towels and sheets beneath you are equally soaked, and just the thought alone makes you dizzy.

the grin on jun's face is wide enough to rival yours when he comes back to find you laid out so prettily on the bed, on display for him like a gourmet fucking meal.

you lift your hips for him as he spreads out a towel beneath you, kneeling at the foot of the bed with your thighs on either side of his head. just one look at your dripping folds and he's already gone, throwing your legs over his shoulders and digging his fingers into your thighs to spread you apart even more for his eager mouth.

you've had jun's mouth on you more times than you can keep track of, but every single time still feels like the first. no matter how often he does it, you don't think you'll ever be prepared for the first lick, when he flattens his tongue to cover as much of you as possible at once before he begins.

the way he immediately and easily finds your clit, sucking messily before moving lower to slide through your folds, is always enough to bring you right up to the edge, but it doesn't last. it's a constant battle between making you cum as fast as possible, or prolonging it and moving around until you can't take it even for one more second and your orgasm is ten times stronger.

this time he chooses the latter, but you already had a feeling that that's how things would go. he's focused, honed in on your pussy; he is going to make you squirt all over his face, and if you don't think that's a guarantee, then you'd be sorely mistaken.

it's not the first time you've played this little game with him: sending suggestive photos and texting flirty messages, until you inevitably end up under him with enough orgasms to last you a week. but it's never enough to last, of course, and it's not long before you do it all over again.

he likes to act like he's teaching you a lesson, but you both have been through this routine enough times to know it's the thrill that keeps you coming back more than the need for punishment. you could always just ask him, but where's the fun in that? it's much more exciting to push his buttons and let him take over. it would almost be funny how his reaction is exactly the same every single time, if your reaction weren't also exactly the same. it's a habit you fall into together, but you wouldn't trade it for anything.

jun's fingers slide up your body, stopping at your waist to grab you and pull you harder against his nose. it's impossible not to let yourself get lost in it, moaning and threading your fingers in his hair as your pussy throbs in his mouth.

he points his tongue at your clit once more and he doesn't let up until your thighs start to shake, your breath coming out in shallow gasps. you're close and he knows it, almost even better than you know it yourself because he's spent so much time between your legs that he knows how to read your body like an open book.

your fingers in his scalp squeeze tighter, pushing his head further into you, and he groans at the feeling. he loves how quickly you get fucked out from his mouth alone, that you’re barely even processing how roughly you're moving his head because your body is on fire from the stimulation.

he'd live and die in your pussy if he could, and that's exactly what he plans to do tonight as his tongue flicks faster and harder. he can feel the wetness already gushing out of you and he knows you're right there, ready to give him what he so desperately wants.

with one final suck to your clit you go rigid and your muscles release, whimpers and whines flowing from your lips like liquid as you cum. it drenches his face, running down his cheeks and his chin and soaking his hair.

he drinks you up like a starved man, like he's been wandering alone in the desert and finally found his oasis. your head rolls back and your body writhes under his hands, but his grip is too tight and he is far too committed on getting every last drop from you to allow you to squirm out of his grasp.

it's overwhelming nearly to the point of pain but you don't want him to stop, you desperately need him to keep going until you're drained. and that’s one of the best things about jun, is that by now he can practically read your mind and he can tell when you need more and when you don’t.

he can tell what you want without even having to ask, so he reaches up and squeezes your hand in his as he looks up from between your legs, meeting your eyes and giving you that look that makes you shiver because you couldn’t imagine anyone else but him in this position. you don’t want to stop, not yet, and he nods at you knowingly with a hazy little grin and slides his tongue right back where you want it.

he’s more than willing to spend the rest of the night kneeling in front of you until you’re spent, if that’s what you want. honestly, he’s willing to spend the rest of his life there, too.

i hope you enjoyed this!! if you did, consider reblogging or leaving a comment or an ask :) it shows me this is something people want to see more of, and knowing people like this makes me want to write more of it! thanks for reading!!

taglist will be in the comments under this fic since tumblr is having problems with mentions, i can't add them as i usually do. if you'd like to join and be notified when i post a new fic, you can fill out this short form here! :)

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munson-blurbs · 2 months

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The Boy is Mine (Bug's Version)

Part of @carolmunson's writing challenge! Thank you for spreading some love and joy in this community, and I hope this fic makes you smile.

Summary: A cozy night in with your sweet boyfriend who is a nuisance in the best way.

Warnings: allusions to smut, allusion to spitting, lewd jokes, basically just fluffy fluffness

WC: 1k

Poke.

Poke poke.

Poke poke poke.

Poke poke poke poke poke poke poke poke poke–

“If you don’t stop,” you hiss without looking up from your chemistry notes, “we’re gonna have a problem.”

Eddie pulls his forefinger back from where it’s pressed against your earlobe, his shit-eating grin morphing into a pitiful pout.

“But it’s date night,” he whines, resting his chin on your shoulder. “You promised me we could curl up and watch Monty Python after an hour, and it’s been…” he glances at the digital watch wrapped around his wrist, “...one hour and three minutes.”

“I’m still trying memorize–”

He snaps the small notebook shut and pulls you closer to him, effectively cutting you off. “And you will–after the movie.” Leaning back against the couch, he lines up his finger to once again prod at you. “C’mon, Sweetheart; we never get the place to ourselves on Friday nights.”

He’s right; his uncle has off on Friday nights and usually prefers to spend his free time relaxing at home, but he’s on a fishing trip this weekend with some of his old army buddies.

“Okay, okay.” Truthfully, you are in dire need of a break; the formulas and lists of molecular compounds have all become meaningless squiggles right before your eyes. Your back hurts from being hunched over the snack table you’re using in lieu of a desk. Whatever ‘studying’ you do now will likely be unproductive, so you might as well snuggle up next to your boyfriend and enjoy a movie. “But only if I can study after. Some of us would prefer not to spend an entire decade in high school.”

Eddie throws his head back and laughs. You’re the only person who’s allowed to crack jokes about him being held back–twice–and you milk it for all it’s worth. “Aw, don’t be like that. That’s not even true. It’s only been six years. And I’m gonna graduate this time. So, ha.” He sticks out his tongue, making you giggle in turn. “But, fine. You can go back to your smart person mumbo-jumbo once we finish the movie and have sex.”

The last item on his agenda snags your attention as you swing your legs onto the cushion, its stuffing poking out from beneath its worn fabric. “Excuse me?” You cock a brow in disbelief.

“As compensation for the three minutes you spent neglecting me,” he explains with a shrug. “‘S only fair.”

“Sure. You usually only need three minutes anyway.” You lift your foot to dig it into his side, but he grabs it before you can tickle him, playfully bringing it towards his open mouth as though threatening to bite it.

To be honest, you wouldn’t put it past him.

“Best three minutes of your goddamn life.” His smirk makes a triumphant reappearance as he stands up and pads over to the kitchen. The refrigerator light illuminates him in a bright glow, a juxtaposing halo on the man wearing a shirt with a cartoon devil plastered on the front. “Wayne took all of the beer with him, but we have Mountain Dew, some orange juice that I think is still good…oh, here it is!” He rummages through the top shelf and pulls out the last can of Diet Coke, the one he’d shoved towards the back so no one drank it before you could.

You shoot him a grateful smile that he returns easily. He plucks two mugs off of the wall, both of them gag gifts he’d given to his uncle, pouring Mountain Dew in one with Ask Me About My Nuts spelled out in bolts and screws and your soda in one with a three-dimensional pair of breasts jutting out from the body.

“I ran out of, like, nice cups,” he says sheepishly, likely referring to any container that didn’t allude to body parts. “Is this okay?”

“Perfect.”

Eddie sets the drinks down on the snack table, careful not to spill on your notebook. “Okay, pretty girl. C’mere.” He places a throw pillow on his lap and pats it, signaling that it’s time for you to assume the prime cuddling position.

As soon as you rest your head, his hand finds its home on your upper arm. His thumb, calloused but gentle, makes gentle strokes that have both of your hearts beating slowly and in sync.

“Babe?”

“Hmm?”

You roll over so you can see the stubble that’s starting to prickle along his cheeks, jawline, and under his chin. “You forgot about the movie. And the snacks.”

He groans, using his free palm to rub his nose in frustration. It’s one of the cutest habits he has, and part of you always wonders if he does it just to make you smile.

“‘M too comfy to move,” he grumbles, peering down at you with a guilty expression.

“Me, too,” you agree. “But…snacks.”

Eddie chuckles, stretching to grab something from his side of the sofa. “We’ve got this,” he says as he procures a half-eaten can of vanilla frosting. “I swear I just opened it last night. And we can just talk until we fall asleep, like we did when we first started dating.”

The memory floods your body with warmth. Even before the two of you became a couple, when you and Eddie were only friends, you would often stay up on the phone until your consciousness gave way. No conversation topic was off-limits; on one night when he’d been more than a bit tipsy, he’d divulged some of his more…private preferences.

“So she spit in your mouth?”

“Mhm.”

“And you like that?”

“Abso-fuckin-lutely, Sweetheart.”

Neither of you know where tonight will take you. Maybe you’ll become a familiar tangle of limbs, trading sloppy kisses and murmured sweet nothings. Maybe the sugar from the frosting will rejuvenate one of you enough to actually put the VHS in the player. Maybe you’ll just soak in each other’s softness, letting comfort envelop you until your eyelids become too heavy to keep up.

Wherever you go, you and Eddie will get there together.

#eddie stranger things #eddie munson #eddie x you #eddie x reader #stranger things #fanfic #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fanfic #eddie munson stranger things #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fluff

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2018-01-20 · 4 months

Note

if you still have your 1k words of kissing satoru pls bestow it to me 🧎🏽‍♀️i’m grabbing him by the back of his blindfold and making out with him fr

pairing. high schooler!gojo satoru × gn!reader

content. fluff + one kiss, implied that reader is shorter than gojo, somewhat proofread (i hate everything) read slowly!!

sticky-note. IM CRYING the way u worded this ask made me want to write an entirely new thing of making out w gojo 😭 ty for sending this in leeee 🫶

it is no secret that gojo satoru looks like a good kisser.

he’s attentive; one large hand on the small of your back to hold you steady while the other rests on your hip, eyes on you to see if you’ll make the first move. to both his and your dismay, you don’t move a single inch.

“i can’t do it,” you finally say, exasperated, pulling away to quickly hide your face in your hands. you awkwardly twist away from his figure, unable to stand the way that you’re able to see his stupidly pretty eyes through his sunglasses. it infuriates you to no end. “i give up. this is too embarrassing.”

“that’s so mean of you to say,” gojo whines not unsimilar to a toddler, but there is only amusement in his tone as he lightly tugs on the waistband of your pants, trying to get you to turn back around. “shouldn’t you be honored to kiss the one and only gojo satoru?”

“shutupshutupshutup,” you chant, mostly to yourself than to the obnoxious boy behind you. you swat weakly at his hand while trying to ignore the demonic voices in your head.

it is no secret that you’ve liked your classmate for a long while now. as cute and funny (and hot) as gojo is, he is twice as annoying and unpleasant. you swear he makes it his daily goal to get your blood boiling every chance he gets. that is the sole reason why you don’t plan on professing your love anytime soon: due to the fact that shoko will forever be disappointed in you and will never let you live it down if she knew. you don’t even want to think about what utahime would ultimately think of you.

he continues to bug you, “c’mo-on...” you can practically hear him sporting his signature smug grin. “do you really wanna go back to jujutsu high like that and kiss suguru instead?”

at that, you spin around in an instant—a mortified look on your face that further urges you to stab an accusatory finger at his chest. “y-you’re a damn liar! there is no way that there is an actual curse who’s goddamn antidote requires you to kiss someone when you get hit.”

sneakily, he wraps a palm around your wrist but makes no move to push your hand away. “but you just got touched by that cursed spirit, right? doesn’t your skin feel all sticky and itchy, like i mentioned?”

as much as you hate to admit it, you know that he’s right. before the two of you had gotten into the fight in the first place, he warned you not to get hit and the symptoms you would have to face if you did. your skin does feel like you just took a swim in poison ivy, and your head feels dizzy with a sudden migraine that should not be there, since gojo had instantly caught you the moment you faced a hit from the cursed spirit.

“b-but it doesn’t make any sense,” you sputter out, a weak last-minute resort. you really do not want to kiss gojo satoru—at least, not because of a measly curse—and have to hear him blab about it later on to your friends. you rant on, “if such a technique exists, then why didn’t you just kill the thing right away? aren’t you the strongest? why am i even on this mission with you?”

“hey!” he feigns an offended gasp, “are you saying that you don’t like hanging out with me?” he groans and dramatically lays an arm on his forehead, reminding you of a mistress in distress. you stare blankly. “how cruel of you. and besides, just because i’m the strongest doesn’t mean i can kill a first-grade so quickly.”

you keep staring at him with a disapproving look, but he only looks back at you with a joyous glint in his eyes. “...you’re insufferable,” you finally huff out, your hand still in his. but the both of you can hear the undertone of surrounder in your voice.

you stand awkwardly still in front of him for a few solid seconds, narrowing your eyes as he returns your defeated glare with a sheepish smile. you can’t help but sigh to yourself—you’re going to have to prepare yourself for a mouthful from shoko when you both head back.

you let him pull you closer when he tugs at your hand, your other palm moving to rest on his chest to steady yourself. but even then, you don’t get to kiss him until he leans down from that freakishly tall height of his— gently meeting his lips with yours.

it isn’t a quick peck. in fact, it’s a sweet and slow kind of kiss that makes your heart skip a concerningly amount of beats. a free hand of satoru’s moves up to softly cup the back of your head to deepen the kiss. nothing about his movements show that he’s in a rush to get the whole ordeal over with—and as much as you would like to lie and say that you hate it, you can’t help but step forwards to reach him better too.

your mind is in so much of a daze that you don’t even realize that satoru turned his limitless infinity just for you.

when you finally step back into reality and—reluctantly—pull away, gojo is grinning brightly with his sunglasses tucked into his hair. you didn’t even notice that he pushed them up to make the kiss more comfortable for you. however, you do notice that your skin still very much feels uncomfortable on your body and your head is pounding (whether it be from the symptoms or the kiss, you don’t really wanna know).

“you’re so cute,” gojo chuckles unabashedly, laughing again when you avert your gaze with another huff and a warm face. you are more than used to his flirty remarks and his more-than-platonic habits, but somehow it feels more... genuine this time around.

“and gullible,” he suddenly adds, the out of blue comment making you turn back towards him with a raised eyebrow. you squeak out a sound of surprise when he unexpectedly, but gently, pushes your head downwards, his other hand now in your line of sight. you feel more confusion swirling in your head when you see him holding a small vial with some clear, greenish liquid inside of it.

“here’s the real antidote,” gojo casually cheers, and he does not have a single shame in the world. a whole minute seems to pass by until you connect the dots, and when you do, the first thing that pops up in your mind is the thought of absolute murder.

“are you serious?” you practically screech. “you made that whole kiss thing up?”

#i hate him (he deserves to be happy and have everything nice in the world)#gojo x reader #gojo fluff #gojo drabble #im gonna cry #gege when i find you #🤬

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andysorbit · 10 months

Text

Home (M)

non idol!Jaehyun x fem!reader

Warnings: angst, smut, oral sex (male receiving), semi public, dirty talk, cum swallowing, lowkey breeding kink, light snowballing

genre: smut, romance, slice of life

word count: >1K

note: I had me a lil Jaehyun brain rot at like an hour ago and I had to get this off my chest. do I love it? no but the thought wouldn't let me sleep.

part 2 can be found here

Jaehyun fumbles with a loose thread on his t-shirt. You stare on in silence, waiting for him to say something.

"I uh... you wanna go to the store with me?" he asks awkwardly.

You two were arguing again. This time, over finding a new apartment to move into. You liked the new building that was almost complete a few blocks away but Jaehyun was more than happy to move up to the top floor of the building you already live in.

You both had wanted it when you moved in and the plan was to take it once it became vacant but that new building sure is a lot prettier.

"No, I don't wanna go anywhere with you," You reply as you cross your arms.

He shrugs, "Well then don't ask for shit because I'm not bringin' you shit. You want it, come get it."

"Fine. I'll come but you better not say shit to me," You sigh as you turn to get your wallet off of the dresser.

"The fuck are you bringing your wallet for? Leave it. I'll pay," he says peevishly.

"Fuck you and your money. I'll pay for my own shit," You snap as you shove your wallet into your back pocket.

Jaehyun scoffs, "Fuck you too. I'll be in the car. Hurry up or I'm leaving and you can walk," he says as he heads out.

"Leave if you want to- watch me change those locks before your flat ass gets back!" You call out.

A "fuck you, my ass is fine!" booms through the apartment and then you hear the front door slam.

You roll your eyes and decide to take your time getting to the car.

Once inside the car, you sit in silence as Jaehyun drives. The silence is thick and you keep your eyes out the window. The night air is cool and you roll your window up a bit.

Jaehyun does the same, "There's an ice cream sale at the grocery store across town so that's where we're going... in case you were wondering."

"But did I ask?" You mumble.

Jaehyun sighs, "Well, I figured you would eventually since you question everything I do anyway."

"When have I ever questioned you?" You scoff as you turn to glare at Jaehyun.

"This whole shit with the goddamn apartment! That was the plan since we moved in- take the smaller one and wait it out and if it wasn't available by the time we hit thirty, then we'd look elsewhere- so now- literally not even a whole fucking year later, you wanna deviate from the plan and keep asking me if I'm sure I don't wanna leave altogether! Like I'm too stupid to know what I want!" he yells.

"I never said you were!" You yell back.

"Really? 'Oh, c'mon, Jae... are you sure? Really just think about it. I think if you really think about it, you'd like it.' I did think about it and I still don't like it! The top floor gives you the view of the water just like you wanted, we're good with all of our neighbors, most of what we need is within walking distance- this is a fucking penthouse that's in our budget- why are you not happy about this?"

"Well I guess now is as good a time as any to tell you that I talked with the owner of the building."

"You're gonna fucking leave me? Over a goddamn apartment? Really Y/n?"

You groan, "No, Jaehyun! The owner was telling me about the floorplans and there's no space for expanding the family if we move in. That's what I was gonna tell you before you got your lil attitude. Fuck!"

"Oh shit, really?" he asks incredulously. The crease he's had in his brow all day finally softens and he purses his lips.

"Yeah... The closets are too small, he canceled the balcony plans, the kitchen is more like a kitchenette, and there's no room for a washing machine or a dryer so we'll lose more than we gain... You thought I was gonna dump you for an apartment?"

"I dunno. Maybe? I'm sorry but like... we've been fighting a lot and I didn't know what to think," he replies sheepishly.

"The day our arguments become sexless, prepare for the worst because that's when you should be worried about me leaving. You're my home, okay? Whether we stay where we are, or move upstairs, or move into a boat- I just wanna be with you."

Jaehyun laughs softly, "Well since that's resolved... You said my ass is flat. Apologize."

You smile and lean over to kiss him softly, "Push your seat all the way back, daddy... I'll apologize."

Jaehyun presses the button on the side of his seat and slowly he moves backwards. It brings a funny lightness to this moment.

When he's as far back as he can go, he leans the seat back then his hand comes up to grab you by the back of your head and he brings you in for a searing kiss.

His tongue licks against yours as his free hand gets his pants open, "D'you know how fucking hot you are when you're angry?" he purrs.

You reach down to palm him through his jeans, "Is that why you're so hard?" You sigh as you shift enough to lean over.

"I love it because I get to put you back in your place after... now get to it," he says and pushes your head down.

He hits the back of your throat and you moan as you suck him hungrily.

"Such a good girl... just like that... yeah, baby," he sighs as his hand gently strokes your head.

You hum as you take him in as far as you can and Jaehyun holds you there for a moment before pulling you up to kiss him, "Not so quick to talk shit now, huh?" he says and pushes you back down.

He holds your head steady as he fucks into your mouth. You moan and gag around him, "Take it, slut," he moans.

And you do take it; each slow thrust. Every time the head of his cock hits your throat, you moan. You can feel your panties getting soaked and you squeeze your thighs together.

Jaehyun's thrusts get sloppy, "Gonna swallow daddy's cum like a good girl, right?" he sighs.

You hum eagerly. Hot cum shoots into your mouth and you greedily milk his cock for every drop you can get. You slowly ease him out of your mouth before giving the head of his cock a soft suck; hoping for more.

"God... every time you do something like this... all I can think about is how much of my cum we're wasting because... fuck..." He trails off as you continue to suck on the head of his cock.

"As much as I love seeing you swallow, I'd much rather pump that little pussy with my cum til it's leaking out... maybe get you pregnant... You wanna be full of my cum, right?"

You nod.

"Fuck... tell me you're mine... say it," he sighs as he pulls you back up to kiss him. He licks into you mouth and you share the traces of his cum that's left.

"I'm yours, daddy," You mumble against his lips.

He presses his forehead to yours, "Yeah fuckin' right you are," he chuckles.

#neoculturecollectives #nct #nct smut #kpop smut #nct 127 #nct 127 smut #nct hard hours #nct hard thoughts #ambw smut #ambw fic #ambw kpop #ambw nct #kpop ambw #nct x black!reader #nct x plus sized reader #Jaehyun #jaehyun smut #kvanity #kpop smut for black girls

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heeliopheelia · 8 months

Text

"how did we end up like this?" (heeseung x reader)

genre: angst to fluff word count: 1k requested by nonnie ♡

a/n: ahhh i almost forgot how much i love writing angst and arguments 🤍 like i've said before, i wasn't planning on ending this on a happy note but i folded because... well, it's hee lmfao

masterlist

Your head is pounding from all the screaming and crying you've let out today.

Biting down on your lip harshly, you turn your head to the side to hide the tears forming in your eyes from your boyfriend. Eyeing the duffle bag you've laid out on your shared bed, you start throwing the messily folded clothes inside it.

"W-Wait, what are you-," Heeseung stops himself as he chokes on his own breath. With heart dropping into the deepest pit of his stomach, he walks up to you and grabs your elbow gently. He tries to ignore the way that your body stiffens underneath his touch but the sharp aching in his chest really makes it difficult. "Stop, please. That's not necessary, love."

"Oh, I think it's very necessary," you murmur with a sniffle, using the back of your hand to wipe the tears from your face.

Heeseung tries to move in front of you but you jerk your arm out of his touch and shake your head at him.

"Baby, don't. You know I didn't mean what I said–"

"I know," you interrupt him, trying to calm your shaky breath. "I know," you repeat, softer this time, "It's not that, Heeseung."

"Then what is it?" He asks, slightly dreading your answer as he watches your eyes widen with disbelief.

"Oh, c'mon now. All we ever do is fight all the goddamn time. We can't even go two days without getting to each other's throats. It's not healthy anymore, you've surely noticed that." Your trembling fingers attempt to stuff another shirt into your duffle bag but when another wave of hot tears blurs your vision completely, you give up on this task for and bury your face in your hands. "How did we even end up like this? When? We were always so good together. So why?"

"I'm sorry." Even though Heeseung's head is filled to the brim with running thoughts, this is the only thing he's able to come up with.

Hurting you was never the slightest possibility for him yet now he's standing seemingly frozen, watching the love of his life collect their stuff and about to leave him forever – and all he can do is try to figure out the answer to your question. Because, really, when has it all started going downhill? Heeseung could swear in a heartbeat that there's never been anyone who could make him happier than you do – and probably no one ever will, and yet he starts wondering whether convincing you to stay with him would only cause you more pain.

"You don't have to apologize for anything," you sniffle again, hands moving quickly to zip your bag. "We're both at fault here. No need to kick yourself down because of it, you know? Sometimes it just.... happens."

And he can't say anything because you're right. He can't say anything because there's absolutely nothing on his mind that could somehow make this situation better. He can't say anything because if he does, he'll only hurt you more and he can't have that when his heart is already this heavy with guilt.

So he watches helplessly as throw the bag over your shoulder, not sparing him even one look as you make you way out of the bedroom with your head hanging low, thick teardrops leaving a trace on the floor as you go. You're walking down the stairs and it'll be only a matter of seconds before you leave him and without even knowing how much he fucking loves you you'll be gone from his life.

With that thought and the fact that Lee Heeseung is a selfish man whose heart always has more control over him than his mind, he drops every single shred of reason and rushes down the stairs, long legs nearly tripping on the wooden steps.

He pushes his arm forward in the last second, shutting the door close just as your hand reaches the doorknob.

He's breathless, wide eyes looking at you with panic. "Don't go."

"Heeseung, I–," you stutter out, mind stalling as his warm hands come up to cup your wet face, fingers wiping your cheeks with the tenderness and affection that you've lacked so much for the past week.

And when he starts littering small, quite desperate, kisses all over your face, you can't help but cave into his touch, the duffle bag hitting the floor as it slides down your shoulder.

"Don't leave, baby," he pleads, hugging you even closer, even tighter when your tears seem to never come to an end. "Don't leave me, please. We'll fix it, we always do. I'll be better, I promise."

Your arms come up around his middle, fingers clenching on the fabric of his worn out t-shirt as you can't do anything else but cry in his embrace. He presses a kiss to your wobbly lips coated with salty tears, then another one and a next one after that.

"You're it for me, YN. I need you with me. By my side," he mumbles into your skin, his warm kisses never ceasing and successfully bringing comfort to your weeping heart. "I love you so much."

"I love you too," you nearly whisper, words strangled with your tightened throat. He makes your head spin but you have no time to wonder if it's in a good or a bad way as his tongue makes its way inside your mouth, causing all of your thoughts to disappear within a mere second. "So much," you mutter into the kiss, hands coming up to run through his thick hair.

"Then stay with me, hm?" You nod your head quickly, tugging his neck closer as he pulls away from you slightly. "Yeah?" He needs you to confirm your statement before he gets his hopes too high and gets his heart broken in two. "You're not gonna leave me?"

And the another firm nod of your head is all that he needs, breath stuttering for a second before he draws you even closer in his arms and lets you pull his face to yours again, molding your lips together and willing to leave the scarring argument in the past to give your mending relationship yet another chance.

permanent taglist: @bambisgirl @arizejkt19 @luvmura @milisabunny @cathy-1997 @satoruskitchenrag @ramenoil @jenjnk @jaylaxies @yoongspi

#posting earlier then usually todaayyy #hope you guys didn't forget about me 😭#carly's 1k event ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა #1k event: requests ✎#enhypen x reader #enhypen #enhypen imagines #enhypen fluff #heeseung x reader #heeseung imagines #lee heeseung #lee heeseung x reader #heeseung fluff #heeseung drabbles #heeseung angst

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nickfowlerrr · 1 year

Text

call it what you want to

pairing: neighbor!bucky barnes x curvy!reader

warnings: 18+ only. pet names. dirty thoughts. uhhhh that's all? also not sure what trope this is lol but when i nail it down, i'll add it. i'm thinking it's just friends to lovers? frenemies to lovers maybe? idk lol.

words: 3.1k

notes: this was my attempt at writing a stand alone, less than 1k drabble. it did not go well. there will definitely be more lmao. eventually. <3 hope you guys like this, and thank you in advance for reading. as always, feeback and reblogs are more than welcome and are so appreciated! let me know your thoughts :)

“Fuck!”

Your voice echoed in the hallway of the apartment complex as you stared down at your take out now spilled all over the floor.

“Stupid goddamn key,” you cursed again, the key to your apartment caught in the metal loop of your lanyard. Truthfully, you knew you had too many keychains and this happened every time you had to jingle your keys from your bag. You should’ve set the food down, but you were too impatient to get inside.

While you struggled with your keys, the door to the apartment down the hall opened, the sound of it catching your attention.

You looked over and then quickly away as you saw him. As if things couldn’t get any more embarrassing, of course he had to be a witness to the mess that was you for the second time this week.

“Locked out again?” the tall, built brunette asked as he walked down the hall, his brilliant blue eyes set on you.

“No,” you grumbled, avoiding his gaze as you tried to free your key from the lock of rings it had become stuck in.

He stopped right next to you and you took a deep breath as you felt him watching you intently, analyzing the predicament you'd found yourself in. His eyes were on you for too long, making you more flustered than you already were, before they fell to the food laying on the ground by your feet.

He raised a brow before looking back up at you, leaning against the wall beside him, crossing his arms as he examined you further but continuing to say absolutely nothing.

“Is there a reason you’re staring, Mr. Barnes?” you huffed, annoyed.

“Mr. Barnes?” he questioned. “I’m not 80.”

“Could've fooled me," you mumbled under your breath with a roll of your eyes, "damn it," you whined, growing more and more frustrated at your lack of success in getting your key unstuck. You began shaking the set of keys from the base of the lanyard, hoping to get it free that way.

He grabbed the keys from your hand with a scoff and you watched as he easily pulled the key out of the rings it was caught in before dangling them in front of you.

You narrowed your eyes as you scowled at him and his obnoxiously smug face. Reaching to snatch the keys from him, he pulled them back right before you had them in your grasp. You could’ve growled with how irritated you were.

“I’m not in the mood, James. Give me my keys,” you demanded.

“James?” he repeated, sounding even more offended than before. "Christ, doll, let's go back to Barnes."

"I told you to stop calling me pet names not more than.. two days ago, did I not?" You shot him another sharp look as he smirked in response.

"Well, I believe your exact words were, 'Bucky, if you call me sweetheart one more time tonight, I'm going to file an official complaint against you with management for harassment'," he quoted you verbatim.

Your mouth parted as you furrowed your brows, you couldn't help how obviously taken aback you were at his apparent perfect memory and he smiled at the impressed look on your face.

"Huh, so you remember exactly what I said, and yet," you tittered humorlessly, "you're still doing it."

"You said nothing about being called 'doll' and your warning was clearly for that night only, so," he shrugged, blue eyes still on you while he simpered.

"Were you not on your way somewhere?"

"I was," he nodded before he pushed away from the wall, beginning to walk past you as you watched him, turning to follow his movements, dumbfounded at his dismissal. “I am,” he finished smoothly as he kept walking.

"The hell you are," you called after him, following him down the hall. "Give me my keys."

"Okay," he said, continuing to the stairwell. You scoffed in disbelief as you followed him through the doors and down the steps.

"Now," you specified as if he didn't know what you meant in the first place.

He seemed to fly down the stairs as he ignored you and you huffed in annoyance, resigning yourself to following him all the way down. When you reached the first floor, he was waiting for you with a boyish grin.

You shot daggers at him as you scowled, putting your hand out, palm up for him to drop your keys into. He looked at your hand quizzically, an eyebrow quirked before he took your hand and brought your knuckles to his lips, brushing them across your skin.

Your heart skipped a beat and you embarrassingly felt your breath catch in your throat the moment his eyes looked up to meet yours, the bright blues twinkling as his soft lips lingered on your hand.

It wasn't even a second before you pulled your hand away like he'd burned you.

You swallowed hard, standing straighter as you eyed him.

"Well, definitely gonna be making that harassment complaint now," you said, trying to ignore the butterflies in your stomach at his actions and the way his bright, easy smile had your heart fluttering.

"I don't think you'll have to go through the trouble. I'm thinking about moving out next month," he told you.

You felt your face drop slightly as you blinked at the news, a wave of disappointment and sadness running over you. "Oh," was all you breathed.

You both stood there for a moment, a charged silence between you and your neighbor begrudgingly turned, dare you say, friend...

Would he consider you a friend? Did he consider you at all? Of course he did. You'd been hanging out at least weekly for the past almost three months. You were friends. Right?

You forced the ridiculous thoughts away, not needing to dwell on them. It didn't matter.

"You just moved in a few months ago, you're trynna leaving already?" you asking trying to sound nonchalant.

He kept his eyes on you, and you could feel him keenly watching your every reaction. You just prayed he couldn't see too much. You didn't need to embarrass yourself anymore today.

His tongue jutted out past his pink lips before his ever-present smirk returned. "No, I'm not. Just wanted to see your reaction. And if I didn't know any better, I'd say you were a little let down there, sweetheart."

You clicked your tongue, scoffing while you fought a smile as you eyed him challengingly. "Good thing you know better, then."

"Good thing," he nodded as he smiled wittingly at you.

"Can I have my keys back now?"

He took a deep breath in through his nose and out before turning around to continue out the gate and down the street.

"After we eat," he said over his shoulder, expecting you to follow him. "We're going to that Chinese place I was telling you about the other day." He held the gate for you and after a second, you walked out, waiting for him to lead the way. As easy as it would be for you to argue, you were starving.

"You're lucky I'm hungry, Barnes."

You were walking side by side as you felt him look over at you, simpering. You looked over to him in return and despite the brisk air hitting your face as you walked, your skin felt flushed - the look in his eyes causing warmth to rise under your cheeks as your own eyes flitted away, back to the street in front of you. You took a grounding breath.

“Lucky for a lot of reasons, doll. Guess good timing’s one of ‘em.”

"Joe's gonna have my ass if he sees the food I dropped on the floor," you laughed as you remembered the mess you’d left outside your apartment door. Bucky looked straight ahead then, too, unconsciously puffing out his chest as he brought his shoulders back and stood straighter. In that moment, you couldn’t help but admire how built he was, his tall stature and muscular frame. You wondered if he noticed the people who were avoiding him as they walked by, or the ones who ogled him as they passed. You certainly did.

"Ah, I wouldn't worry about it. Just take him up on that coffee date he keeps asking you for and he'll be cleaning it up himself." The normal levity his voice carried when he spoke to you was gone. He sounded...off, maybe a little huffy. You weren't sure why.

"How do you know about that?" you asked.

He took a second before he responded, a smirk gracing his face once again as he looked at you. "Thin walls," he answered, his eyes running up and down your figure as you faltered for just a moment, keeping your gaze ahead of you.

"Thin walls? Or super hearing?"

"A bit of both, maybe," he considered as he walked a bit closer to you. When he took another step near you, his arm brushing yours, you stopped walking, glancing over to him but not turning to face him head on. He leaned into you and spoke near your ear, his breath warm on your wind chilled skin, "You'd be surprised all the things I'm able to hear. Even the tiniest little squeaks in the middle of the night."

His voice was quiet and close and so damn suggestive. It made your stomach flip and sent a tingle through you as you took an unintentionally shaky breath at his proximity.

He leaned further past you and when your eyes followed his movements in front of and across your body, you realized you were standing in front of the restaurant, and he was pulling the door open for you.

When you finally managed to bring yourself to look at him, he was wearing a cocksure smile, while you worked hard to make sure you didn't let your mortification show, tried to play it cool like you had no idea what he could possibly be referring to. But with the way he was looking so sure and satisfied, you must have failed.

You cleared your throat as you turned sharply to walk past him into the restaurant, through the door he was holding for you. The second you stepped in, he was right behind you. You were halted in your path almost immediately after walking further inside as a man was leaving. There was a tight little hallway that led from the front entrance to the rest of the restaurant and you almost ran into him in the tight space, apologizing as you pressed yourself closer to the wall next to you so you didn’t touch him. There was a feeling of self consciousness threating to take over as you assessed the space you were taking up as opposed to that of the people trying to pass you. It was evident, at least in your mind, that you were the problem. You figured it'd be best to just back up out of the hallway and let them walk by without being so in the way. So caught up in your distance between you and the people in front of you, you hadn’t even recognized Bucky’s chest at your back, or your ass unintentionally flush against his crotch until his metal hand gripped your hip when you wiggled back to make room for the new people who were leaving.

You heard his sharp inhale as he held you still and wished the ground would open up and swallow you whole so you wouldn’t be able to keep embarrassing yourself. You weren't sure if you should mention it and apologize or just act like nothing happened…

“Sorry,” you breathed. Bucky didn’t respond, only squeezed your hip lightly again.

When the people who were leaving were past you, you turned your head to look at Bucky. “Go in front,” you ordered a bit snippy, not wanting to lead the way. You’d never been here and you didn’t know where to go and you were, understandably, already feeling flustered.

“Can't,” he responded, voice tight, urging you forward with his hand still on your hip. Your eyes widened though he couldn’t see before your brows furrowed in disbelief.

“Are you joking?”

“You were just wiggling your ass against me, doll, it’s not like I’m doing it on purpose. I’m only human,”

“Well I didn’t do it on purpose, either,” you hissed quietly. "I can't believe you,"

Truth be told, Bucky couldn't believe himself either. He had a lot more self control than most, and such a light touch from anyone would never have him this visibly worked up. But the second you grazed against him, he immediately felt his cock stirring. It certainly didn't help that he'd only just been replaying the sounds of your desperate little moans, the ones he hears in the middle of the night along with the soft rumbling of whatever toy it is you use. The sweet sounds float into his room and all he can do it groan and torture himself with the thoughts of you, with the thoughts of one day getting to hear those whimpers in his ear as you wrap yourself around him and not just through the painfully thin walls of your apartment all alone...

He likes to imagine it's a sleek black rabbit. Envisions you pumping the silicone length in and out of your slick cunt as your head is thrown back in ecstasy, your breasts on full display, pert nipples just begging to be lavished upon as you arch your back, your thick thigh parted to afford him the perfect view of your glistening sex. Your tight pussy taking the toy so nicely, he can only imagine how incredible your silky walls feel gripping the length and squeezing along it as you work it in and out of yourself. He can't help but imagine what you'd feel like on his thick cock...his cock that, fucking hell, at this moment, was only growing harder and if he wasn't careful, he'd make himself look like even more a perverted jackass than he already had.

He forced himself to stop thinking about it, but it was impossible to stop thinking about you. Even if you weren't right here with him now, he was sure you'd be on him mind. He'd been finding himself having thoughts of you more and more frequently, even about the most mundane things. It seemed like every little thing led back to you.

He'd only known you now for a few months, but you seemed to occupy enough space in his mind that he would've sworn he'd known you for years. It felt that way, too. Like he could easily be himself around you, his true self. He wasn't sure you knew what effect you had on him, how you effortlessly got his walls down without even trying. He had no idea what it was about you, but it was something.

He's always being told how he was short with people, cold, closed off, grumpy, blunt, etc., etc., and he knew he was. There weren't many people he wanted to get to know, not many he wanted to even have to speak to. But with you.. It was almost embarrassing how excited he'd get when he'd hear your voice in the hallway, bounding up from wherever he was inside and heading straight for the door, pulling his boots on as fast as he could and grabbing his keys, then taking a second to compose himself and regain his air of cool before walking out the door. It didn't matter he had no plans of going anywhere, he just wanted an excuse to see you, to talk to you even if only in passing. He had a system to it now, too. If you were just getting home from somewhere, he'd pretend he was on his way to check his mail and if you were leaving, he'd be leaving, too. Taking the elevator with you, or the stairs depending on your mood, and then begrudgingly parting ways so he didn't appear like such a pup.

Occasionally, normally if it was late when you were headed out, he'd invite himself to go with you wherever it was you were going. On the times he'd miss your leaving, or you seemed like you wanted to be alone, he'd just...very nonchalantly, super casually, stealthily... follow you around the city. Not in a creepy way, he told himself. Just in a, a friendly, watching out for you way. It hadn't happened more than a handful of times, so it wasn't like he was stalking you. He really just wanted to make sure you were okay.

"You okay?" your voice asked, snapping him from his thoughts.

"'M fine, doll,"

"Great, well are you gonna apologize?" you said expectantly, turning your eyes on him as you looked up over your shoulder.

"I'm sorry," he breathed a smiled.

"Thank you," you stated simply before turning back around to look at the menu board. "And you can take your hand off of me now," you added, not wanting to say it while facing him, lest he catch the look in your eyes making it evident you wouldn't mind all that much if he kept his hands on your forever. And you wouldn't say it, but his touch was oddly comforting. You found yourself disappointed when he let his hand slip down from its place on your hip.

"Did I tell you my couch got delivered?"

"Oh yeah?" you laughed, grateful for the change in conversation.

"Mhm," he affirmed. "It could use some wearing in," he hinted.

"Not comfy?"

"Not just yet."

"Hm. I'm sure it'll get there."

"Come on, don't make me beg here,"

"Beg? For what?"

"You know what I'm getting at,"

"Do I?" you questioned, playing dumb. He sighed loudly as he stepped from behind you, moving instead to stand next to you again.

"Would you come over tonight? I'll even let you pick what we watch,"

You narrowed your eyes at the proposal. "Yeah?"

"Yes."

You pursed your lips, pretending to think on it, knowing full well your answer was a 'yes' the second he brought it up. "Okay," you agreed with a soft smile that you tried to hide.

He looked down at you next to him, admiring the way it felt so right to be near you, even as simply as this, as he smiled in return. "So you wanna eat here or take it back to my place?"

series masterlist

#bucky barnes x curvy!reader #bucky barnes x plus size!reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x curvy!reader #bucky x plus size!reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes drabble #neighbor!bucky

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veltana · 4 months

Text

Mafia AU prequels - Steve's break-up

✦ Pairing: Stucky/Fem!Reader ✦ Word count: ~1k ✦ Rating: Teen ✦ Warnings/tags: hurt/comfort, mild swearing, lots of fluff and feels, platonic cuddling, mention of peggy carter, sharing a bed. ✦ Summary: Steve is heartbroken and you're worried. ✦ Note: This is a prequel to No one as sweet as you set while they were living together in college, which focuses on their growing relationship and how Bucky and Steve started to develop feelings for Sweets as more than just their best friend. You don't need to read No one as sweet as you to get this but I recommend it. (Also posted on AO3)

Series masterlist

Masterlist | AO3

The door has been closed for five days, or at least not opened while you’ve been awake. You stare at it and chew on your thumbnail, so engrossed in worry that you don't notice Bucky coming up beside you until he puts his arm around your shoulders, startling you. “Sorry,” he frowns but you wave it away. "He hasn't come out yet?" You shake your head. "Have you knocked?" You nod. "What did he say?" "Told me to go away," you mumble.

At that moment Steve's door opens and his disheveled face appears. He hasn’t shaved and the stubble together with his bloodshot eyes and swollen face makes him ten years older. Seeing him like this makes your heart ache and you can’t help the small breath of his name that slips from your lips, out of instinct you reach out for him, but he pulls back and you quickly retreat.

"Leave me alone," Steve says with a tired voice and you take a step back but Bucky has had enough. For someone so wide, he moves quickly and you barely register it before it happens.

In a flash, he grips the back of Steve’s neck, pushes him down until he’s bent over, and grabs his arm to push it up against his back. "No," Bucky answers. "You have been in there for days, you smell like shit and you look even worse."

Steve tries to argue, “Buck, if you don’t fucking let me go right this goddamn second I’m going to fuck you up until-” You don’t think you’ve heard Steve curse so much through your whole friendship but Bucky is unfaced as he drags Steve out and towards his own room. You follow behind them, a little horrified by Bucky's treatment.

"You are gonna take a shower, eat dinner with us, and then we're all getting some fucking sleep." Bucky releases him inside the bathroom of his room and then closes the door behind him.

He glares at the door, daring him to open it but when the shower turns on both of you head to the kitchen. While Steve gets clean, you and Bucky look through the fridge for dinner. It’s not much for three college students but Bucky is excellent at making something out of nothing and you’re happy to assist.

“He’s so fucking stubborn,” Bucky complains. “Reminds me of someone else I know,” you murmur and then chuckle when Bucky gives you a sideways look, but you wave the carrot you’re holding at him threateningly and he smiles.

Steve steps out of Bucky’s room a while later, looking a little better, dressed in some of Bucky’s clothes. Without saying another word he steals a piece of the carrot you’re chopping and walks up to Bucky, who turns to him and opens his arms.

Steve doesn’t even hesitate to wrap his arms around Bucky’s waist and bury his face in his shoulder. Ladle still in one hand, Bucky hugs him back and you turn back to the vegetables. They exchange low words that you can’t quite make out and you’re happy they can find comfort in each other.

Suddenly arms wrap around your waist from behind, lifting you and causing you to drop the knife, making it clatter on the counter. “Hey!” You begin but Steve doesn’t listen. Instead, he spins you around and puts you down so he can turn you towards him, before lifting you again to place you on the kitchen table.

“Bucky says you’ve been worrying,” his voice is soft as he cups your face, his eyes are red and tired, but also laced with concern. Tears burn in your eyes too, because you hate seeing him like this, but you won’t cry, not when he needs you. It’s so typical of him to worry about your feelings when he can barely keep it together. Taking a steading breath you explain, “Of course, it’s tough seeing you this heartbroken.” And place your hands on the outside of his.

“Can I-” Steve hesitates and you squeeze his hands, encouraging him. “Can I hold you? Just for a second?” He’s so timid when he asks but you smile at him and hold out your arms. “Take as long as you need,” you tell him.

Steve’s arms wrap around you again and much like he did with Bucky he buries his face in your neck. You caress up and down his back, his nape, run your fingers through his hair and don’t comment when you feel wetness on your skin.

Steve’s not always talkative when he goes through something, but if he’s tactile at other times, it’s amplified when he's sad. So when dinner is ready he sits between the two of you and makes sure your thigh is resting on top of his and that Bucky’s arm is pressed against his own while eating.

When all of you are done, Steve gets up first and grabs the dishes. Bucky and you follow and together you help clear the kitchen and it's like everything is normal for a few minutes.

It's not even eight but Bucky points toward his room. "Go." So you take Steve by the hand and he doesn't protest. More often you use Steve's bed because it's a little bit bigger, but his room is always littered with art supplies and since he's been in there for a while it's probably a bigger mess than usual. And your bed is too small to accommodate all three of you.

Lifting the covers you let Steve climb in first before dimming the lights and then sliding in beside him. Immediately he pulls you in until you're lying on his chest and that's how Bucky finds you. You can make out a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth and you know it’s not because he’s happy about Steve’s situation, but because just like you feel, it makes him happy to see Steve find comfort.

It's a tight fit but Bucky tucks himself into Steve's other side and finds your hand, tangling your fingers together on top of his chest. A moment later Steve's breath hitches but you don't move, just share a glance with Bucky. Steve cries silently and then starts talking, about how much he misses Peggy and how it feels like he'll never be able to find someone like her again.

None of you try to tell him it will get better, because for him, right now, it will never get better. But with the help of time, you and Bucky will patch his heart until it's as good as new.

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ladamedusoif · 9 months

Text

Café Crème

Javier Peña x f!reader (one-shot)

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader

Word count: ~ 1k

Rating: Explicit (18+; MDNI)

Content/warnings: oral (f receiving); established relationship; Javi enjoys a healthy breakfast; Javi hates embassy coffee; smut; this is literally just smut.

Summary: Your boyfriend Javier likes mornings at your place for more than just your coffee.

Notes: I keep getting sent to horny/self-deprecation jail by @julesonrecord and @lunapascal. Now, while I’m an abolitionist this is at least a productive carceral system because your punishment results in smutty little thots that turn into smutty little ficlets. And then @julesonrecord gives you a title you can’t resist. ☕️

This is my first time writing for Javier Peña. I enjoyed writing this little morning “fun”, please enjoy reading.

Javier Peña loathes what he refers to as “embassy coffee”. Correction: “shitty embassy coffee”.

You learned this early in your relationship. The first time Javi took you out for dinner, he’d savoured the strong black coffee served at the end of the meal. The white coffee cup with its gold trim had looked comically tiny in his large hands.

“God, this beats the fuckin’ pigswill they call coffee at the embassy. Only the Americans could come to Colombia and still serve up shitty coffee.”

You’d added a little cream to your own coffee, stirring as you watched him talk, interspersing sips with deep drags on his cigarette.

“I know somewhere you can get good coffee. Fresh ground beans, French press - definitely not pigswill.”

He looked at you, cocking his head in curiosity. “Oh? Where?”

You’d smiled and arched a brow. “My place, tomorrow morning.”

That was a year ago. With Javier now spending most nights at your apartment, the morning coffee ritual had become a near-daily fixture. Whoever wakes first takes charge. Boil the water. Shower. Grind the beans. Stir. Brew. Press. Serve.

You blink awake first, Javi still sleeping soundly with his body tucked against a pillow. You reach for your favourite vintage silk robe and quietly pad out of the bedroom. Your apartment is in an older building and its layout is eccentric, to say the least: the bathroom is accessed via the narrow, galley kitchen.

You put the water on to boil while you shower, as usual. Washed and wrapped in your robe, it’s not long before the noise of the coffee grinder rouses Javi. He shuffles into the kitchen, dark hair sticking up every which way and a hand scratching at the stubble on his jaw.

He’s wearing an old Texas A&M T-shirt and a pair of the boxers he keeps at your place for the mornings. You’d had to convince him to wear them, arguing that Señora Hernández in the block opposite did not need to see just how, um, gifted your boyfriend was. And especially not at 7.30am.

“Morning, mi amor. Just going to put this on to brew.”

Javi grunts and plants a kiss to the crown of your head as he squeezes past you in the narrow kitchen, hands pressing into the soft flesh on your hips as he heads for the bathroom and his shower. You know him well enough now to know that Javier Peña is essentially non-functional until his shower and coffee.

You place the lid and plunger at the top of the French press jug, and rest your hands on the countertop as you wait for it to brew. You can hear Javi humming lightly in the shower, the scent of your bergamot shower gel gently wafting into the kitchen. The running water stops.

He always looks fucking delicious fresh out of the shower: wet hair combed back, starting to curl up at the ends; T-shirt slightly clinging to the damp skin of his broad torso; jaw freshly shaved and moustache trimmed. You slyly glimpse at him out of the corner of your eye, not wanting to let him realise you’re admiring him so intently.

Fuck. He’s so goddamn hot.

As he nears you, Javi’s scent becomes more obvious and more intoxicating. Bergamot, toothpaste, mouthwash, shaving foam. The heady combination goes straight to your core.

His shoulders are pressed against your back. One arm on the counter, one trailing on your hip and waist, seeking the edge of your robe.

“I know what you’re after.”

You feel the bristle of his moustache against the side of your neck and you moan lightly. A kiss combined with the lightest of nibbles to that sensitive place at the crook of your neck.

“Do you?”

You bite your lip and try to keep it casual, as if you aren’t already getting wet for him.

“Coffee, right? Can’t start your day without it.”

Another kiss, this time to your shoulder where the skin is exposed. You feel those long, thick fingers edging inside your robe and against the soft skin of your tummy, inching to the underside of your breast.

“That’s not the only thing I can’t start the day without.”

You turn to face him, still pinned between his arms but now placing your hands on his forearms. You cock your chin as you meet his gaze, a little defiant, perhaps, but more teasing. More willing him on, asking him to do his worst.

“Oh? What else do you need? What else do you want for breakfast?”

He does that half smile that devastates you, arching an eyebrow as he lifts a hand and trails a finger along the line of the soft, silky fabric that barely covers your chest. “I want…” A soft kiss to your décolletage. “This.”

You can feel your core pulsing now, slick gathering between your legs. Still, you try to retain your composure.

“Anything else?”

He loosens the belt of the robe and lets it fall open, exposing you. Moving one hand along the curve of your waist and lightly grasping the flesh of your hip, he brings his mouth to each of your nipples in turn, swirling his tongue around them, sending your hips bucking upwards. “And I need this.”

You notice that he’s begun to move his way down your body, throwing the robe fully open as you lean back against the kitchen counter.

“What else is on the menu?”, you gasp, feeling like your knees might give way.

He’s on his knees in front of you now, T-shirt clinging to his damp, post-shower body. He gently encourages you to part your legs, before trailing his mouth up the inside of your thighs.

Slowly. Deliberately.

He knows exactly what he’s doing.

He finally reaches your wet folds and, looking up at you for a final time, grins. “Best meal of all, cariño.”

Those lips. That mouth. That tongue. On you, in you, sucking, lapping, as if you’re the sweetest thing he’s ever tasted.

It’s no time at all before you come with a gasp and a shudder, your release soaking him as he moans in delight. With a final kiss to your thighs and belly he pulls himself back up to standing and kisses you deeply, letting you taste yourself as he wraps you back up in your robe.

“I’ll have that coffee now, if that’s okay, baby?”

#javier peña fanfiction #javier peña smut #javier peña x f!reader #javier peña one-shot #narcos #narcos fanfiction #javi you absolute menace #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal #cafe creme fic #further adventures in big hands regular sized mug

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scuddisher · 5 months

Text

WHAT OTHERS CANNOT GIVE.

Price finds out you've been having second thoughts on your intimacy with him, searching for other men's services in the area—but he's convinced you're partnered with him for a reason.

RATING — MATURE & EXPLICIT (18+) PAIRING — gigolo! john price x gn! reader GENRE(S) — drabble, gigolo! au, yandere! au, smut WORD COUNT — 1k WARNINGS — mature content, language, jealousy, highly possessive john, loads of under-toning SMUT WARNINGS — sexual content, dom! price, edging, doggy-style, missionary, unprotected intercourse, creampie, bruising, mainly filth lol RELEASE DATE — DEC 14TH 2023

AUTHOR’S NOTE — me: i’m not gonna write for cod. i’m not gonna write for- [GUNSHOT]. this has been in my brain for WEEKS but now it’s finally written out <3 i live off of any type of modern-worker price concepts lmao they’re keeping me going rn.

“You know what sets me apart from others?”

John had you wrapped around his finger. Like a ring given in matrimony—the one you'd shiver over every time you had to take it off for some necessary chore where it could be damaged or lost. He knew his importance to you was real, it was what kept you coming back. But he had never taken into consideration that his services weren't enough for you.

Not with the way he had you clenching around his length, like now. “Why I am so good at my goddamn job?”

His ego had grown the more you had spoken. Broken sentences admitting to him that you had gone to see another man, asked for the pleasures of another's touch that wasn't him—you were his only regular.

John already knew, he was already hearing the gossip amidst the others. He had already found the strangely familiar phone number hidden deep inside of your drawer. In his world, of dark nights and long-time pleasure—he knew the signs of when a client was putting a distance between them and him.

You felt him twitch up into your heat as your breathing stuttered. Ears ringing loudly but only listening to the sounds of John spilling words through his gritted teeth. You knew you had crossed the line.

“What makes me the fucking best?” His words were harsh like a growl, yet spoke softly into only your ear as he pressed you into the mattress below him and felt your hips jerk back into his hot loins.

He had been fucking you for two hours. And this was once something you begged for. Once, his intimacy—now, obsession.

You felt yourself shivering from the cold air, the only major heat being the rough man behind you. His body was sweaty, hair sticking to himself along every part of his body. His happy trail soaked with drops of sweat running down his abs, stomach sucking in every time you clenched around him. You were dizzy from all that he had done to you.

And yet, he got another rise. Had released his load into you twice now, stretching you even further on his cock. That twitch of your body, mouth agape and claiming his name on your tongue. “John!”

Each time he pulled his length from you, the stickiness of his cum was enough to make you jerk and nearly orgasm until you felt the bruises he left on your hips throb in pain from his calloused fingertips pressing into them again.

You felt the cold air of his dick leaving you, could only whine as his hand pulled at your head until his lips were on your ear. And just as you felt the rush of his hot cum hitting the skin of your ass, he spoke again.

“Because I focus on my own pleasure, not yours. And that makes you my toy.”

Your whine was enough to have him turning you over to look at him, his touch becoming gentle as he heard the hisses and whispered words from your lips. “I'm sorry. I'm sorry.”

“Sorry.” He was still John. “Sorry is a tough word for you to use, isn't it?” His accent had grown thicker by each syllable. He was playing with your emotions. “Did you apologize to the man you called out that late night?”

There it was. The jealousy he had pent up, rocked his hips into yours until he almost forgot, only to see your big eyes staring up at him with tears falling down your cheeks to remind him.

“The one whose number you dialed instead of mine? Met in the latest hour of the night? Asked to pleasure you in some new way to get your fucking rocks off?!”

His beard was still covered in the wetness of your arousal, mixing with his spit and displaying itself on your skin each time his words turned angrier. Everything he had done to you tonight, it was all to convince you.

His mind was lost in his own thoughts as he spoke aloud. “Could he even make you cum? Know how to use you? Did he even get a touch before you realized he was someone else and not me?”

His hand moved from your heat, feeling you throb against the little friction he gave you until it found the pulse of your heartbeat at your neck. His thumb pressed into the spot, begging to feel how fast your heart would beat when he finally told you what he wanted to say all night.

“I'm the only person in the world that can make you cum like this.” His hard length was in his free hand, pressing into your heat once more until you were all-consuming. You saw the flinch in his face as he felt your walls feather with overuse, but he still found himself filling you up.

You felt his hips stutter once he was balls deep. The way his cock twitched from being sensitive like he hadn't used every hard-on he had gotten that night to prove his point. Now was his final show.

The ring of your arousal around him only caused a louder squelch and he pulled from you and thrusted himself back in. His speech only turned guttural when he felt how tired you were, how well he had taught you this lesson.

And as your body took him in and then kept going, your rise finally crashed down on you.

“You’re the o-only person who I have seen this many times in my field of work.”

You squeezed him, milked him of one more gushing orgasm, and then fell right down into your own. “Your body only knows me now. This—” He winced feeling your entire body turn into mush as your orgasm finally swept over you. “This is only for us.”

His words quieted as his head fell into your shoulder, mouth kissing at your neck. You could only cry, only whine his name softly. He finally claimed what he wanted to since the first day your shaky little fingers dialed his number.

“I'm the only one who can give you what others cannot.” He spoke so gently, pressing his entire weight onto your form below him and into the mattress. “My love.”

© scuddisher — all rights reserved. do not plagiarize, repost, or translate any of my works without my permission. do not post my content on other sites, especially claiming them as your own! reblogs and feedback are seriously appreciated <3

#john price #captain price #john price smut #captain price smut #cod smut #call of duty smut #captain john price x reader #captain price x reader #john price x reader #mw2 smut #mw3 smut #cod x reader #barry sloane x reader #barry sloane smut

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hcuyk · 9 months

Text

SYNOPSIS : jeonghan loves you. the happier ending to kidult

PAIRING : daycareworker!jeonghan x genderneutral!reader

GENRES : established relationship, daycare au, angst, fluff, features seventeen as children

WARNINGS : mentions of car accident and child neglect

TEASER WORD COUNT : 329

ESTIMATED WORD COUNT : 7-10k

ESTIMATED RELEASE DATE : within the next week. i lied its coming out when i get time cause why tf is my college doing sm

TAGLIST : lmk if you want to be added!

A/N : this is for kidult jeonghan reaching 1k notes. i love you all

K. COLLECTION [Y.JH] ONE | TWO

Tears began to stream down your face, unable to hold them back, and you were thankful Jeonghan missed it, but when you heard him apologize, you turned around and snapped at him.

“What the hell do you even want?”

“I want to talk to you.”

“You had two weeks to talk to me!” you yelled, fighting the loudness of the rain. The stream of tears ran faster down your cheeks as you brought a hand to your forehead, shielding the rain from getting into your eyes.

“I tried!”

“By knocking on my door for an hour straight at two in the fucking morning?! You could’ve called! You have a key!”

“Well it’s not like you tried either—”

“I got hit by a car!” you screamed, storming towards him as the sky reflected your mood. The thunder was just as loud as the pounding in your heart, and the rain poured just as much as your tears. You pushed Jeonghan, and behind him you saw a crack of lightning. Your vision started to blur as you didn’t hold back your sobs, wanting to show him the pain he’d inflicted on you ever since he left.

“I got hit by a car, Jeonghan! What about you? Were you hit by a car?! A truck? Perhaps a plane?” You forced out a manic laugh before continuing. “Wait, no, don’t tell me. Let me guess,-”

“Y/N—”

“-mauled by a bear?”

“I can explain-”

“Tell me I’m goddamn overreacting.” You took a step forward, and instead of pushing him again, you stared, making him look at the pain he created. “Tell me I’m overreacting, Hannie. Look me in my eyes and say it loud and clear.”

“I knew you’d be there for me.”

“I missed you, I needed you-”

“I know.”

“The day I lose you is the day I lose myself.”

“I don’t want you to wake up and realize I’m not the one for you. I don’t want that for us.”

hopefully the svt readers see this 😔

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liebgottsjumpwings · 1 month

Text

AUGUST AFTERNOON | FAYE FISCHER | MASTERS OF THE AIR

Summary: Faye Fischer and her newly acquired friend Ken Lemmons spend a sunny afternoon at Thorpe Abbotts, Faye thinks about the past few years and is then (not so) rudely interrupted by a certain curly haired pilot. Who had managed to make her blush several times some days ago.

Warnings: general war violence, implied minor (and not canon) character death.

Word count: a bit over 2500

Note: this was meant to be a little less than 1k word blurb, turned into way more. I hope it isn't too boring as most of it delves into Faye's experiences before the mota canon. That is also because I use my ocs to study certain historical events, so this really is just self indulgence. Please pretty please let me know what you think of it! (This fic is also posted on AO3)

AUGUST 21, 1943, 16:32

“What kind of name is ‘Just-a-Snappin’ even?” Faye Fischer wondered out loud, only half expecting an answer from the man in front of her as she came to sit up from her lying position in the grass. She squinted, just about able to make out the text on the B-17 Ken Lemmons was working on. Her squint disappeared as he came into her sight, blocking the warm ray of sunshine she had been enjoying moments prior, her eyebrows furrowed into a frown. “You’re gonna have to ask Blakely that one,” answered the curly haired man standing in her sun. Looking at him, she wondered why he would hide those curls under that beanie. Probably so all that working grease wouldn’t get into it.

Faye shrugged, letting herself fall back into the grass. “Whenever I ask Blakely a question, the man answers with a goddamn riddle,” she let the end of her sentence continue into a sigh. Ken just laughed, his hands firm on his hips. The sun made the edge of his curls shine, almost like an aureole. Visually, him standing in her sun wasn’t so bad, it looked quite pretty. Her skin was starting to miss the warmth of the sun rays, though. Faye’s fingertips tapped on the cap of her camera lens, the Contax II had been laying on her stomach, under one of Ken’s work rags, to shield it from the sun. “Keep standing like that,” Faye ordered him as she removed the cap from the lens, turning on her camera.

“Aren’t you only supposed to use that for… you know… work purposes?” she heard him ask as she fiddled with the exposure settings. A scoff escaped past her lips as she lined up the viewfinder with her left eye. “Shut up, they made me pay for my own film rolls when I arrived in England, so they’re mine technically anyway” Faye deadpanned in response, snapping a photo of Ken. “Besides,” she continued, putting her camera back under the rag again, letting her head fall back into the grass, “don’t you think the photo I just took wouldn’t go over well with all those war bond leaflets?” She held up her hands, reading an imaginary leaflet “Purchase a war bond so our curly haired cuties can maintain our bomber planes!” she sarcastically called out. It earned a belly-laugh from Ken, who then turned around, readying himself to get back to his maintenance work as he continued laughing, “I hope to God not.” Faye smiled in response, “Yeah, well, I’ve taken more leisure photos on this camera than the OSS would be comfortable knowing. It is only fair because nearly all film rolls were mine anyway,” she trailed off, closing her eyes again as the warm August sun blanketed her.

The warmth took her back to August, nearly three years back, 1940. To the emerging hills behind Mulhouse, in the occupied region of the Alsace in France. Back then, she too had snapped a photo that the OSS would turn their noses up at. She couldn’t help it, though, the sleepy little cottage the, back then, above ground resistance she was attached to used as their base of operations was too pretty against the sunny hills. Plus, the whole rule against taking photos that do not directly aid the war effort was bullshit anyway. They increased her morale, no? Surely a heightened sense of morale would aid the war effort. Just like her friend, and resistance member Isidore was aiding the war effort by developing the photos Faye had taken recently. His girlfriend, Julienne, a distant cousin of Faye’s neighbors back in Louisiana, the Klotz family, laid next to her in the grass, yelling at her sweetheart to stop working so hard and join them in the warm sum. She still remembered the minty smell of the Ground Ivy that tickled against her cheeks in the field near the cottage as she watched Isidore exit the cottage, some of the successfully developed photos under his arm, he dropped them above the two women. The photographs whirled softly down onto them, like those propaganda leaflets that had recently been dropping from planes over the region. The association made her chuckle. She much preferred these photographs over those leaflets.

Oh, how she longed back to be in that sleepy little field just behind Mulhouse. Unknowing and indifferent to what was about to wash over her. Over her dear friends. Over her distant relatives, up north in Sélestat. How she wished to gain that sense of unknowing and indifference once more. The fleeting feeling of walking back home from the shul on those warm August evenings, taking the train from Mulhouse towards Sélestat, being greeted by her grandmother’s second brother, the one who stayed behind in Alsace. Being taken in to his family, learning about their extensive history and connection to this land. It made her feel proud, like her family here. All of that despite the impending feeling of calamity. That feeling grew more and more with each news item about the Germans inching closer. Forcing themselves back into the territory they’ve claimed as theirs for eras. This time, it came paired with a terrifying venom against a group of people so deeply rooted in this region.

After the annexation of the Alsace into Nazi-Germany, the resistance group Faye had been attached to by the OSS was forced to go underground. Her work, instead of reporting back to the OSS on current events in the border region between France and Germany, became a high-risk operation that aided the Alsatian resistance in its activities against the Nazi occupier. When it happened, the OSS had forbidden her to associate publicly with her family and the community she had built up. They deemed it ‘too riskful’. And because Faye had no choice, she listened to those orders. And just like that, her growing connection with her ancestral home region, her family, the core of her very identity was snapped away. Just as quick as it had flourished. She watched the treatment of her people become more and more dire every day. She watched and she could do nothing but watch. Nothing outward anyway. In secret, she was doing more than she ever had done. Risking everything to make it harder for the Nazis to spread their hatred and evil. In return, she got the gnarly gift of having to distance herself from the recently cultivating bond with her family that lived halfway across the world from her.

Yes, she still had Isidore, Julienne and the rest of their group. Though, as they were forced to become underground, a painful strain started to form on their friendship. Understandably so, tensions were high, risks were always there and the imminent feeling of doom never stopped looming over the group.

Which ended up being for good reason. Come the early February days of 1943, Faye found herself with her left cheek pressed into the cold ground where the minty Ground Ivy once grew. The barrel of a Karabiner 98A straight against her right cheek. She still wasn’t sure who gave up their activities to the SS. She wasn’t sure if she cared enough by then either way. Or now, for that matter. In the two and a half years that spanned from that first summer in Alsace to February of 1943, Faye had grown disillusioned to the point that she wasn’t even sure if she cared about living, or dying. Maybe it was for the better that death seemed so close. That it came to her in the form of a German rifle.

That was until she remembered why her family decided to migrate to the United States. Back in the late 19th century, the Jews of the Alsace were already facing hardships. And it was those hardships that made her grandparents decide that from there on out, their family line would not suffer under those hardships anymore. So they set sail to Louisiana, because their children, and their children, and their children (and so on), deserved a life of flourishing. So it was there, February 1943, with the cold barrel of a Karabiner 98A pressed to her face, that Faye decided that she would honor that wish. She would not die at the hands of those who wished her dead.

She wasn’t sure how, but she ran, she ran until her feet gave out and Isidore made them duck into a dense shrub. His face stained with dirt, much like hers. And through the dirt on his face, tears traced their paths. Then it dawned on her that Julienne hadn’t made it out with them. Faye hoped with everything she had in her dear friend wasn’t left out, alone in that cold field. But there wasn’t much time for hoping. They had to make it to safety. To a place where they couldn’t be reached by those who were looking for them.

Switzerland. Within a few days of frantic fleeing, both of them somehow made it to Basel, just over the border. Isidore’s previously tear-filled eyes had turned empty by then. And Faye feared for him. She feared for everyone they had to leave behind. The fear didn’t leave her when she walked away from the hospital she had helped Isidore to, so his wounds could be looked at. Not caring much for her own, and after the OSS had been made aware of her whereabouts, they had arranged a route to England for her. To ‘escape’ the risk she found herself in, according to the OSS. She still scoffs at the mention of ‘risk’, the OSS would never fully know. And so, after a goodbye ‘for now’ and a promise to keep in touch, she departed for the train station of Basel, on towards Bern, and from there, hopefully England. She watched the fields roll by, they were barren, empty of life. She tried to not let it remind her of Julienne too much. Hoping that her friend had somehow made it to safety, like her sweetheart and Faye.

Her memories were disturbed by the warm sun once again being taken away from her. This time, it wasn’t because a certain crew chief by the name of Ken Lemmons was standing in between her and her blanket of warmth, it was because Faye hadn’t noticed the time pass by and the sun having moved behind the officer’s buildings on the air base. She let out a groan at the feeling of her back cracking as she sat up, her camera falling into her lap. Slowly opening her eyes, to her surprise, ‘Just-a-Snappin’ had been exchanged for a different airplane. Though, her eyes were too blurry from the sun shining onto them, to make out the name. These damn pilots and their airplane names.

What she did make out was Ken and what seemed to be a pilot, standing by the plane as Ken pointed out several things on the wing. The pilot nodding, seemingly intently listening to Ken. Faye, after rubbing her eyes intensely, was able to make out more of the scene in front of her. Her sight darted towards the plane again, reading. ‘Rosie's Riveters,’ she mouthed the words. Way better name for a plane than whatever Blakely was thinking with his one, Faye thought. Her gaze moved over to Ken and the still unknown pilot again. Squinting, she could make out the brown curls, kept small and neatly arranged on top of his head. The 100th and their tendency to hide their gorgeous curls irrationally annoyed Faye to no end. She eternally cursed Ken for hiding them behind his beanie, too. She looked back to the nose of the plane, ‘Rosie’s Riveters.’ Oh. Robert Rosenthal. The man that had made her blush the other night without even knowing he had. Robert Rosenthal had arrived at Thorpe Abbotts some two weeks after Faye herself did. She had been sitting with Helen and the other women as she watched him come into the officers’ club, his feet carrying him, dancing towards his crewmates. It was his little twist and the way his jacket moved in the air flow created by it; itt had been the first time she smiled that day. And Helen noticed. Sending Faye a teasing look as she dug the nose of her shoe into Faye’s shin. The action made Faye’s cheeks turn bright red, sinking deeper into her seat, disappearing into the shadow of the curved wall as she let out a soft, intoxicated giggle.

It wasn’t much later, after Nash had successfully achieved a dance from Helen, that Rosenthal’s eyes locked with Faye’s. The same red from before creeping up from her throat to her cheeks as she gave him a shy smile. His returning smile was beaming, like a direct ray of sunlight across the room. She would receive a few more of such smiles from him throughout the night.

Now, with his pilot’s hat snug under his arm, Faye could see him smile at Ken, a thankful smile. And who wouldn’t be thankful for Ken Lemmons. The man worked tirelessly to send them up safely into the air. But, oh she was sure it was Robert Rosenthal standing there, alright. Yeah, that smile, of which she had been on the receiving end several times now, she recognized it. The familiar, uneasy yet welcomed feeling creeped up in her stomach again. She could feel the flush in her throat. Combined with the hours of direct sunlight she had received over the afternoon, remembering their shared looks made her slightly lightheaded as she rose to her feet. Hoping to quietly leave, as to not gain the perception of both men standing some feet away from her.

Mission unsuccessful, though, damn it. “Fish!” she heard Ken call her. Her arms dropped beside her body as she turned around, her camera swinging with a little delay. She caught it, so it wouldn’t hit her on her stomach. For some stupid reason, her breathing increased in frequency as she watched the two men walk over to her. She had to consciously try to not take a step backward everytime they took one forward. She tried to keep her eyes strictly on Ken.“You think that is a better name for a plane?” he asked, pointing towards the B-17. Her eyes followed his pointing, reading the text on the nose of the plane for a third time. Before she realized, she already voiced her opinion. “I think naming anything but a pet or a human is a weird thing anyway,” she retorted, eyes dead set on Ken. Next to him, she heard a chuckle. “I’m actually quite proud of ‘Rosie’s Riveters’” she heard the curly haired brunette next to Ken say. There was no fighting it anymore, she had to actually look at him now. And she was sure you could compare the color of her cheeks to the apples they served in the breakfast hall, bright red. Still, like she always did, she came up with a retort; “Well, it’s better than Blakely’s, I guess,” she said, a sly, yet slightly shy smile appearing on her lips. The brunette in front of her let out a hearty laugh, his eyes crinkling. It tugged at Faye’s heartstrings, “Yeah, I’ll take that.” he said. And there it was again, that goddamned smile.

#masters of the air #robert rosenthal #ken lemmons #hbo war #oc: faye #masters of the air x oc #rosie rosenthal x oc #robert rosenthal x oc #rosie rosenthal #mota #my writing

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