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espinosaurusrexex · 7 months

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Happy Little Accidents

Veteran!BuckyBarnes x Female!ArtTeacher!Reader

summary: In a world after the war, Bucky tries to get pieces of his old self back by joining an art class. He meets you and instantly falls head over heels. Now he just has to work up the courage to ask you out.

a/n: wrote most of this on my lunch break after finally feeling the creativity spark again. I hope you all get a cozy fall feeling.

word count: 3.3k

warnings: adapting to life after war, frustration, a little angst, love-dazed Bucky, just so much fluff and wholesomeness 💕

･ﾟ✫* 𝒎𝒂𝒊𝒏 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 ｡✭･ﾟ

↑ the face of a man too whipped to listen - this is the Bucky vibe today

Steve Rogers was an artist. A lot of people knew about it. Hell, the Smithsonian even had a gallery full of sketches from a notebook of Steve’s he had lost back in ‘45. But Steve never needed people to recognize his work. Just like he never needed all the fame that came with his shield or all the honors he got for doing what he thought normal human decency implied - stopping bullies.

But what not many people knew was that Steve loved his art so much, he even held little sketch workshops in the camps on the western front. He drew each member of the howling commandos with impeccable accuracy. He loved drawing portraits and he loved to help.

Which was why, sooner or later, Bucky had been talked into trying his first sketches back in the day as well. Back when he was still left-handed, back when he found joy in little things such as drawing with his best friend. Back when he was not who he was now.

Yeah, he was bitter about it...

Bucky wasn’t too shabby of an artist per se. He was rather quick with his sketches always able to find the right spot for his next line and even though they weren’t perfect, one could always see what his pictures were meant to present.

Yes, they were crooked and not nearly as good as Steve’s but he had fun with it. Sketching had been an escape for his soul while bombs were exploding only miles away from his camp. It had reminded him of his best friend when they were apart, and most importantly, it taught him patience.

God, so much patience.

Bucky had never been good with it. Always fast, always right away. But the amount of times Steve made him erase carefully constructed lines and shapes had him feel scolded like a kid.

Later, he was grateful for it.

Now? He hated just touching a pencil. Every time he was reminded of his recovery, of months of frustration and anger, of grief and sadness. All because he’d lost his arm, and with it, all that had brought him joy in life.

When he had to learn to write with his right hand, he screamed at the papers before him, the crooked and shaky lines mocking him with vigor.

You’ll never be the same, they said, You’ll never have true joy back.

He felt like a child. Unable to do the most mundane of tasks, whilst fully aware of what had to be done to get it right.

But he missed it. The way drawing would clear his mind and the ease he felt when thinking of nothing but the next step in the process.

So after a particularly frustrating session with his therapist, Bucky had walked through a gallery on his way home. Beautiful pieces, each more impressive than the next hung on bright white walls until he reached a small corner with sketches and photographs. They weren’t less good than the rest, but other than the huge paintings, they seemed approachable - and they reminded him of times far gone.

“Hello, would you be interested in signing up for a sketching class?” An angelic voice had asked after holding a leaflet into his line of sight. And when he followed the hand up to your face, his breath hitched in his throat.

“I- I don’t think I’d be any good…” he had said with a pitiful smile as his left arm raised next to his head, the sleek silver of his hand shining in the showroom light.

“Oh don’t be silly. Everyone can be an artist.”

And that was all it took.

Now he was here. Sitting in a room with about eight other people, listening to you talk. Though Bucky didn’t pay much attention to your words. He was distracted by the way your lips curved when you spoke, and how your hands looked in the light when you flailed them in the air. He wanted to draw you, only you. But he knew he could never do you justice. And that frustrated him a little.

His first task was easy. A series of connected squiggles and shapes. The second was harder - finding and highlighting familiar motives in his work. But when he tried to connect his shapes, his hand began to tremble and the line on his paper got dented, he huffed in surrender.

A look to the front to you talking with another woman and he was getting off his chair.

This was useless. He should have never come here.

But when he moved to gather his things, your voice stopped him once again.

“Oh that’s interesting,” you said with a tilted head, your eyes following the little dent in his drawing.

“Yeah, I messed it up.” He shook his head and added a careful, much more quiet ‘I always do”.

“You see, it’s only a mistake if you make it one.” You turned to him and smiled and his heart began racing now that all your attention was on him. Bucky looked around to see if anyone noticed, but the other participants were all focused on their work. “I’m not going to tell you that this line isn’t supposed to be the way it is. You alone can decide that.”

You stepped closer as he eyed his paper again. “So, Bucky,” holy crap you remembered his name. And it sounded so good coming from your lips. “Are you gonna make it a mistake or not?”

❁ ❁ ❁

That was a month ago. And Bucky had come to your class every Sunday night since then. But now his crush had only intensified.

Every time you stepped behind him to watch him work, his hand began to sweat. Every time you gave him a suggestion, his eyes were so drawn to your lips, he barely heard what you were saying. Just yesterday this had caused him to get into a particularly awkward situation. He hadn’t listened, of course - those stupid mesmerizing lips of yours were at fault for it. And when Bucky finally came back from his daydream of imagining what they would feel like on his lips, he knocked over a jar of water as he noticed you had moved next to him. And to make matters even worse, you had caught him talking to himself as he cleaned up the mess.

Bucky was beyond embarrassed. He wasn’t normally that clumsy, all his moves were calculated. No limb out of control, but when you were around, he seemed to have lost that trait of his - which was actually kind of nice...

He was in deep. And he didn’t know how to handle it.

He was contemplating never going back to your class. He would probably end up ruining somebody’s work and - besides - it wasn’t like he could ever work up the courage to ask you out. It was just all too scary.

“Bucky, is that you?” Bucky froze as he studied the coffee menu above the barista. He was going to order black anyway. But the voice that called out his name almost made him want to pretend he was still studying the sign.

“Bucky.” Your voice came closer and when you were standing next to him, he finally looked at you. And there you were, with a bright smile and a scarf shielding you from the cool fall breeze outside.

“Oh, hey.” He paused, treading, not knowing what to do with his hands or pretty much any part of his body. At least, in your workshop, he had something to do. “...hey.”

“It’s nice to see you, how’s your homework going?” You rubbed your hands together to warm them and at the sight of your delicate fingers, he felt his cheeks heating up when he imagined holding them.

“It’s... well, it’s going...” He sighed and watched his feet as they shuffled on the tiled floor. “It’s not going well if I’m being honest.” And with a shy smile, he rubbed the back of his neck, watching as you nodded in understanding.

“I know it sounds stupid, but sometimes it really helps to just get started without thinking about it too much.”

He chuckled. That was exactly his problem. Because every time he wanted to start, he wondered what you would think about it. And then his thoughts drifted to you entirely and how your neck would bend when you watched him draw over his shoulder, or how your fingers swayed over his artwork to point out the parts you were talking about. God, he loved when you did that.

“-only if you want, of course.” Your nose crinkled when Bucky’s mind brought him back to the coffee shop again. You were staring at him expectantly, your smile growing nervous with every second he took to register that you had just asked him a question.

Bucky had no idea what you had just said. He had been too lost in his daydream yet again and now he made you look stupid in the middle of this coffee shop. There wasn’t much time to decide what his response would be, but under no circumstance did he want to admit just how scattered he was around you. So without thinking, he just nodded with a tight-lipped smile and willed his knees to stay strong when your eyes brightened.

“Awesome! When are you free?” Free? Did you just ask him out and he hadn’t even paid attention?

“Uh, Sunday?” Bucky stammered as his heart began to pound in his chest. This has got to be a prank.

You laughed, and Bucky got weak in the knees. “Sunday is workshop, silly.”

Stupid, stupid, Bucky. “Right, uh... Friday then.” The rapid beat in his chest took his breath away.

“Okay, great. Here give me your phone so I can give you my number.”

“You’re–“ Bucky choked as his hands scrambled to fish his phone out of his pocket. “Yes, yeah sure, cool.” Cool? Oh god.

You took it from him, entered your contact with a little paintbrush emoji, called yourself, and handed it back to his sweaty hand.

“I’ll text you my address.” You stepped forward to pay and retrieve your coffee, gifting the barista a smile that made him blush - apparently, you were a regular because Bucky did not remember you ordering - but then again - he didn’t really pay attention apparently. “Oh, and bring your art supplies!”

And then you were out the door, letting crisp air into the cozy coffee shop, and Bucky standing dazed and confused as to what had just happened.

❁ ❁ ❁

Bucky stared at his phone for the fifth time now, making sure he was in front of the right door before ringing the bell. He was nervous, to say the least. He couldn’t even remember the last time he was on a date, not to mention the last time he felt this nervous about being on one. He was a strong believer in facts but you asking him out had to be a sign from the universe. One he would only get once and he could not screw it up.

His hands smoothed over his black button-up one last time before adjusting his leather jacket again. Then he rang the bell and not even a minute later, you greeted him with a warm smile and urged him to give you his jacket to hang up.

“I just made tea, do you want some?” Bucky followed you to the kitchen where the faint but homey scent of pumpkin spice filled the air. He watches as you scrambled to find your oven its and then retrieve something delicious smelling from the oven. “Cookies?”

“I’m good with tea for now.” He chuckled in awe at how nice your home felt. Once he could tear his eyes away from you, he peered over the kitchen island into your living room, where many different artworks and photographs were displayed on the walls. Every pillow on your sofa had a different color and the blankets sprawled on it and the chair were too inviting for him not to picture the both of you cuddled up beneath them.

“Alright then, suit yourself. But just know these are my specialty.” You snatched one from the tray before almost dropping it again. “Ouch, hot.”

Bucky felt drawn to the room. With all its warm light and fall-scented candles, hints of read books and discarded crocheting, with a crackling fireplace and soft carpeting. He also felt awfully intimate at the glimpse he got into your life by being here, but he had already declared this place his favorite in his mind.

“Are you ready?” Bucky turned to you and watched as you padded your hands on your jeans, leaving faint flour prints on the dark denim.

“Ready for what?” He smiled again, he seemed to be unable to stop around you. But he was just so happy to be here, to be close to you, and to finally spend more time with you.

You chuckled and set two cups of tea on the table. “For your sketches. That’s the whole reason you came here for, remember?”

You settled on the ground and padded the sofa for Bucky. But he could just stand there and stare at you while trying to ignore the lump that began to build in his throat. He clenched the bag with his art supplies in his hand and watched as the soft material wrinkled in his grasp.

Of, course. He took a breath. How could he have been so naive? Then stepped towards the sofa. The whole thing had been a mistake. And finally sat down with a heavy smile.

The sadness was filling him so fast, it threatened to spill right out of him, but Bucky wouldn’t let this little big dent in the road be shown in front of you. Instead, he focused on your hands when they pulled his sketch pad from his bag. And your eager smile when you flipped through his failed attempts on the paper.

The whole atmosphere was wearing a thin layer of sorrow all of a sudden, and Bucky felt his heartache when you leaned over to him to point out the parts you liked the most. Your perfume seemed just that much sweeter as if it were mocking him all of a sudden.

He didn’t listen. He just watched you with the same longing he’s had ever since he met you. Back to square one. Back to the distance he had with you before he foolishly thought you had asked him out. Except now he’d lost all the confidence left in him to take the next step.

Bucky let the evening wash over him. Trying to concentrate on your tips and examples, tasting the tea you had offered to him with the sweetest smile. And before he knew it, he was standing in front of your apartment building again - with a box of those pumpkin cookies in hand and a heart that felt heavier than the bricks he was staring at.

He sighed and began his walk back home.

❁ ❁ ❁

On Sunday he decided that he wouldn’t give up. Bucky didn't know what changed his mind. He just knew that he couldn’t stop thinking about you and him on that incredibly comfortable sofa of yours and the scent of your cedar and cinnamon candle which seemed to linger on his skin for days after his visit. He wanted to play the sketching games he had half-heartedly endured last time and he wanted to become a better artist.

Bucky had left your cookie box at home as an excuse to meet up with you again. And even though he was sweating ferociously when he approached you after class, you had agreed to meet with him again.

He’d left the gallery with a bright smile that evening. Excited for the next time he’d see you again and eager with daydreams on the subway home.

You and Bucky met up every week. Every time, spending a little longer not just drawing and it filled his heart with warmth and happiness. You shared laughter, and, in Bucky’s eyes, a growing connection with every passing meeting.

He learned about your dreams and aspirations and told you about his past, his interests, and his most treasured fantasies.

As weeks turned into months, Bucky found himself drawn to you in more ways than the warmth radiating from your smile he’d noticed the first day he met you, or your talent of calmly helping him in every way possible. He admired your passion for art, your kindness, and your enchanting presence. The fear and the shyness that had gripped him at first, slowly faded away - replaced by a sense of comfort when he was with you.

And soon he realized that there was nothing he didn’t love about you. This was how he got the courage to, on one calm evening spent on your sofa, between the colorful pillows he had been thinking about falling asleep on for weeks, place his hand in yours and intertwine your fingers with his.

“I got something for you,” he whispered between dialogues of the Halloween movie playing on TV, watching as your eyes aimed up at him with curiosity.

With reluctance, he peeled himself out of the warm blanket you shared and trudged to the sketchbook hidden in his bag. The initial idea had been dipped in silly confidence. But it was too late to back out now. He’d already told you about it.

So despite his nervous heartbeat, Bucky came back to the sofa and handed you the book.

“Open it,” he nudged when you carefully inspected the black leather binding, unaware of the confession hidden beneath.

And when you did, he felt he could read every expression on your face like a poem.

The book was filled with sketches of you. The first pages were scattered in hasty pencil drawings, misplaced lines, and unintentional dents. Then followed the section in which he had tried to pay attention to detail. The curve of your nose or the arch of your fingers when they pointed at his artwork. He could see them now, hovering over the sketches himself, and when you turned to the last page of the section, he could see the striking resemblance between them. And so did you. On the next turn, you revealed the latest portraits he’d added to the book - finally confident enough to attempt doing what he saw you as justice, to finally look past his mistakes - or happy little accidents as you called them - and just try it.

Bucky had discovered that your weekly sketch sessions had done him good. And that you had secretly given him back what he had mourned after for so long.

“I couldn’t keep my eyes off you from the moment we met.” He whispered still, too afraid to break the moment you’d just created. “Thought it was time for me to tell you.”

Your eyes were glassy when you tore them from the pages in your hand, a shaky laugh escaping your lips when Bucky beamed down at you. “You did all of this for me-”

“Because of you,” he corrected and wiped a lonely tear from your cheek. “I never thought I could get the joy of drawing back until you showed me how.”

Bucky leaned in closer until your noses touched. “How to be less critical of myself.” He closed his eyes and let his hand linger on your skin. “And how to welcome a mistake by making it an accident-”

And before he could finish that sentence, he felt your lips press to his and your warm hands wrap around his neck to pull him into your body. Bucky shivered in excitement, letting his hands trail down your back and falling into the soft cushions of your sofa while he pressed you to his chest protectively.

He sighed into the kiss, feeling his heart burn with excitement.

Fascinating, how fast a mistake can turn into a happy little accident.

I love you Bob Ross <3

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psychedelic-ink · 1 year

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𝑯𝑰𝑮𝑯 𝑬𝑵𝑶𝑼𝑮𝑯

pairing: dieter bravo x actress!reader x bodyguard!joel miller

genre: super duper explicit smut, actress & bodyguard au, minors dni

word count: 4.5k

summary: an afterparty, weed, drinks, a grumpy bodyguard, and an eccentric actor. What can go wrong?

warnings: mlm dynamics, threesome, blossoming feelings, messy two-person blowjob, piv, polyamorous, dieter has a praise kink, hair pulling, bdsm dynamics, high sex, getting high, this is an au where sarah was never conceived sorry, petnames all around (good boy/girl, sweetheart, darlin, honey), guidance kink, handjob, implied age gap reader being the youngest and joel being the oldest

a/n: you voted and here it is! This can be considered as a continuation of the drabble I wrote but you don't need to read that in order to read this. It just takes place in the same universe. enjoy! If you want to see more adventures of bodyguard!joel and actress!reader feel free to send requests xx

Joel is a grump.

He knows this. Everyone does. He’s been called many things before in this industry: unkind, an asshole, a fucker, a bummer, a grumpy old man. But despite all the negative feedback, he’s never been out of a job. When it comes to feeling safe and secure, everyone realizes that pleasantries aren't really a priority. After a while, he learned to let those remarks bounce off of him. It’s not that he doesn’t enjoy having fun; it’s the fact that this industry is riddled with slimy, untrustworthy characters. You could be happily sharing a drink one moment, and the next you could find your drunken words being sold off to the highest bidder. He has a lot of stories, some of which he wishes he could forget about.

However, he's not a kid. Far from it, actually. So he also knows that not everyone fits the bill of assholery. He's met some nice people, worked for them, and thanks to those nice people, he met you— one of the biggest rising stars of your generation. You're actually quite kind— albeit a bit of a brat, but he's starting to realize that side of you might be reserved only for him. Most impressively, you've managed to knit yourself a loving, supportive circle. He met your family once and has a sneaking suspicion they had something to do with your good manners.

Family. He misses his. Tommy still lived in Austin, running a not-so-shabby bar.

Joel used to pride himself on not getting involved in his clients' affairs, but with you, that proved difficult.

A sea of people crashes into him, pushing him in the opposite direction of where he's trying to go. These Hollywood parties, they're always the same - loud music, annoying lights, and foaming glitter always coming from somewhere. He catches a whiff of champagne and strawberries. Rolling his eyes, he helps a director he barely knows who stumbles and nearly collapses on the shiny marble floors. With one swift motion, he grips her torso and lifts her back up. She slurs a drunken thank you and moseys off.

He hates it when you drag him to parties, and he hates it even more when you disappear. By some miracle, he spots you sitting down within the awfully lit room. You're wearing a mermaid-style dress (at least, that's what you told him prior to the event), which hugs your curves in all the right places. The fabric is covered in pearls, giving it a shimmering, iridescent quality that catches the light and reflects it into his eyes - thank fucking god, or else he suspects he'd never find you in this crowd.

His relief in finding you is short-lived when he sees who you’re sitting with.

Fucking Dieter Bravo.

You know he doesn’t like the man. Of course, you would sit with him just to spite Joel. That’s what he hopes this is anyway, he’s praying to every god he can think of (which isn’t many) that this isn’t a blooming friendship, or something else. He doesn’t think he can handle seeing that man more than he has to.

Ironically, Joel actually used to work with Dieter. It only lasted for about a week as Dieter was just too unpredictable and chaotic for him. A complete hedonist who was used to getting what he wants. Before Joel could resign, Dieter had fired him. Which was good, because Joel wasn’t sure if he would’ve actually gone and done it.

Joel feels a mixture of excitement and anxiety as your entire face lights up upon seeing him. With an open smile, you wave frantically and point to the couch across from the two of you. It's a tight fit, and his knees brush against both yours and Dieter's as he sits. The actor is holding a joint loosely between his fingers, looking up to Joel and nodding in a way that resembles an informal greeting. Joel notices the vibrant pattern of his button-up, the chain around his neck, and the rings on his fingers. Dieter takes a drag then offers it to you. Your gaze briefly meets Joel's before you take it from him. However, you don't immediately bring it to your lips.

“Where were you?” Joel asks loudly, trying to get his words over the sound of the music. “You can’t bring me to these things and then just disappear on me.”

“You’re right, I’m sorry.” you answer with an apologetic smile. Joel narrows his eyes and you bring the neatly rolled joint to your glossy lips. You take a deep, long inhale. He watches the way your body seems to melt unconsciously. You close your eyes. “I just saw Dee and you know his habit of disappearing as soon as you blink. Had to pounce him before that happened.”

Joel’s eyes drop to where Dieter slides an arm around your waist, pulling you impossibly closer. He rests his chin on your shoulder, his eyes fixed on Joel. Your eyes flutter open and much to Joel’s surprise, you extend the joint to him.

“Don’t bother, sweetheart,” Dieter says, his lips too close to your cheek. Joel bristles unknowingly. “He has a stick up his ass.”

“Dieter!” you hiss, glaring daggers. “Behave.”

“I don’t smoke on the job.” Joel says, a bit smugly and enjoying the other man’s prominent pout. “Unlike some, I’m a professional.”

Dieter scoffs. The joint still lingers between your fingers, your gaze snapping to Joel. You accusatorily point at him, your brows drawn together. “And you—” you warn. “Don’t act so high and mighty. You’re off the clock remember? I invited you here so you would loosen up a little.”

What?

“What?” he blinks rapidly. “Why on earth would I need loosenin’ up? And why would I want to loosen up with you lot? This ain’t exactly my scene honey.”

“Because we’re friends, smartass.” you chide. The burnt tip of the cigarette is now closer to your fingers. With a sigh, Joel finally takes it, which provokes a burst of laughter from Dieter.

“She has you on a leash!” Dieter points out, fingers digging into your hip and moving over the pearls. “That’s fucking adorable.”

Joel grunts, “Shut up.” he takes the joint clumsily, holding it up to his lips. It’s been a while since he’s done this. When he does he usually prefers the privacy of his own home. Joel ignores the way your eyes are fixed on him, two wide eager eyes eating him up from head to toe.

He takes a deep inhale, his lungs expanding with smoke. Joel can taste the champagne you left behind. Goosebumps rise over his skin, a tingle, and a buzz making him groan. He allows the smoke to linger inside him, then, without parting from the joint much, he exhales. It’s very subtle, but he notices both you and Dieter taking deep breaths, filling yourselves with his breath. He’s amused. His lips twitch as he takes another drag. Then he extends it back to Dieter. The actor doesn’t waste much time and wraps his lips around the butt of the joint deliberately slow. Joel fights the urge to roll his eyes. Dieter takes a deep breath, exhaling cannabis in a way that the smoke doesn’t move forward, it pours from between his lips, like a dragon’s mouth.

Joel doesn’t think much of it, now feeling more relaxed than ever, he says, “You look surprisingly cleaned up. They groomed you well.”

“Does it look like I care what you think?” Dieter snaps back, and Joel frowns.

“I think the word you’re looking for is thank you,” you say, words directed at Dieter. Your eyes flit between the two tense men. “Also I'm starting to think you two have some history together.”

“Didn’t your knight in shining armor tell you?” Dieter grins, rather smug. “He used to work for me.”

You turn to Joel, brows pinched together with confusion. “You did?”

Joel rolls his eyes, ignoring the way his cheeks heat up under your gaze. “It was a long time ago.”

“I fired him.”

“How come?”

“Too distracting.”

Joel breathes a little too fast, the air catching in his throat. He clears his throat, his veins alive with tension. It almost feels like it’s the only three of them now. The rest of the room fading and turning black. Joel leans forward, the already tight space becoming even tighter.

“Excuse me?” Joel asks, his speech slurred. “What do you mean “too distractin’”?”

Neither of them answers you. Actors, he thinking begrudgingly, a puff of air parting his lips. Dieter brings the joint to your lips and without taking it from him, you look at Joel. He watches as your lips brush against the length of Dieter’s fingers. Annoyance brews in his stomach.

“Is he like this with you too? Oblivious?” Dieter asks you. You grin, teeth shining under the dim lights and you nod. The actor’s tongue pokes out from between his lips and swipes over his bottom lip. “Poor baby.”

“You two are startin’ to get on my nerves,” Joel grumbles, crossing his arms across his broad chest.

You stick your tongue out and Joel has half the urge to grab it between his fingers and teach you a lesson. He hadn’t noticed, but the joint had made its way back to him. Slightly confused and disoriented, he finishes it off. The last bit of it burning his throat and lungs. He’s incredibly flustered, heat crawling up from his chest to his cheeks. He doesn’t miss the way you and Dieter steal glances at each other, smiling giddily.

Finally, you find Joel’s gaze, a Cheshire-cat like grin plastered on your face—he’s slightly creeped out by it actually.

“How about we show you what we mean?”

Joel should’ve said no. This is the last time he’s ever coming to one of these damn parties.

Joel wasn’t thinking much when Dieter led all of you to one of the many bedrooms in the residence. Your hand was clutched tightly around his, and per instinct, he had held on to you just as tight. And as soon as the three of them entered the stupidly large bedroom with an equally stupidly large bed, he found himself sitting on the edge with his pants down. The two actors knelt between his legs, eyes hungry and mouths flooded.

He has to admit, it’s a rather enticing view.

Dieter wraps his fingers around the base while you kiss the inside of Joel’s thigh. Heat settles at the base of his spine, his cock twitching and growing thanks to Dieter’s slow strokes. You drag your lips up, kissing his shaft before swirling your tongue around the head. A strangled moan leaves him. Joel’s gaze drops, only to see Dieter staring back at him. He holds his breath as the other grins from one ear to the other.

“You like that?” he coos, darting his tongue out. He licks a clean stripe up, the curve of his nose brushing against yours. “God, the number of times I came in my pants thinking about this. . .”

Joel’s quick to follow up, “You thought about this?”

Your sudden bubble of laughter makes him frown. His lips become a tight line, his teeth clenched as he grinds the molars together. He watches as you ignore him and pull away. You cradle Dieter’s cheek, and as if he read your mind, the actor leans in, capturing your lips in a hungry kiss. Joel tenses. His skin taut over muscle. His cock stands with attention, beads of precum rolling down his length. The thought of his taste lingering on your tongue, being passed to Dieter—his chest heaves, maybe he is too old for this.

He sees Dieter shoving his tongue between your lips and you moan into his mouth, Dieter swallows the noises you make eagerly. Joel is surprised he’s not feeling any jealousy or protectiveness. Usually, when the actor attempts to make passes at you he puffs up like a rooster. But not his time. Dieter cups your face with two hands, tilting your head so he can kiss you deeper. Only then it dawns on Joel that the reason he was bothered before wasn’t that he hated the actor—though he still found him annoying—but because he wanted to be included. He almost laughs. Loneliness truly is a bitch. His fingers twitch and he makes a move to cup himself, he pouts when his hand is batted away by no one other than you.

“No,” you say wetly with swollen lips. “We’re going to take care of you. Isn’t that right, Dee?” the second half of the sentence is directed at the actor who looks just as debauched. But he manages to nod anyway. Then your gaze moves back up to Joel. “Okay?”

He’s lost for words for a brief moment, mouth opening and closing before he can find his speech again. “Okay.”

It’s messy. Debauched. Downright sinful. And Joel is ninety percent sure this is all a dream and his alarm is about to burst through the speaker of his phone. Dieter purses his lips and spits into his palm, coating Joel’s shaft with a generous amount. You kiss the head and swallow him halfway, your nostrils flaring as you try to take more of him. Joel’s hand lifts to comfort you but Dieter beats him to it. The actor leans into your ear, smiling slyly. He pulls down the straps of your dress and exposes your breasts. Joel’s mouth feels dry all of a sudden.

“That’s it, sweetheart. You’re doing so well,” Dieter purrs, Joel can barely hear him. “Just breathe through your nose, don’t rush it. He’s a big boy, isn’t he? Flatten your tongue and swallow. That’s it. . .” Joel’s arms buckle as you do what you’re told, his eyes rolling back. Dieter kisses your cheek and kneads your breasts, thumbs wiping over the pebbled nipples. “You’re making him so happy right now. Such a talented girl.”

“Oh, fuck,” Joel groans, slightly thrusting into your mouth. Dieter meets his gaze and winks, a wide grin spread across his handsome face.

Handsome. Joel finds Dieter handsome, always has. Though he always assumed he found him handsome in a more general way, the same way he found Oscar Isaac handsome. Some people just are. But he’s starting to think he might like the infuriating actor a bit more than he thought. Or maybe it’s just from the heat of the moment and the weed still buzzing in his veins. Regardless, he’s enjoying the view very much. God, what has he gotten himself into?

You swirl your tongue and hollow your cheeks. More praise drips from Dieter’s lips. Without thinking much of it, Joel reaches out and touches the side of Dieter’s face. The actor stills for a moment, brows furrowing, a delicious shade of red coloring his cheeks. Joel drags the pad of his thumb down Dieter’s cheek and then cups him tenderly.

“Good boy,” Joel says before his filter kicks in. “You’re doin’ so well too.”

Dieter’s face is priceless. He’s stunned into silence, eyes wide and round, lips parted. A low chuckle trembles within Joel’s chest, he continues to trace his thumb up and down the contours of his cheek. Dieter leans into the touch ever so slightly, eyelids fluttering. You must notice the change in the air because you pull away and drag a pointed tongue down Joel’s length. Then you grip Dieter’s chin and guide him down.

“Have a taste, Dee.”

Joel watches with bated breath as you guide Dieter down towards his aching member. The actor's lips part and his breath hitches as he takes in the sight before him. He looks up at Joel, his eyes dark, before finally taking him in his mouth, tongue swirling and lips tight. The actor's eyes never leave Joel's as he bobs his head, taking more and more of him into his mouth. Joel’s legs shake, his lungs expand, it feels too much, everything tumbling onto him like an avalanche.

Joel's head falls back, his eyes closing as he feels the warmth of Dieter's mouth. He can hear the wet sounds of his mouth moving over him, the way his lips slide up and down his length, and he can't help but let out a low moan.

You reach out and grab Joel's hand, entwining your fingers. Your touch electric. Leaning over you capture Joel's lips with your own. He moans into your mouth, the pleasure almost too much to bear.

Dieter pulls back, a thin line of saliva connecting his lips to Joel's length. He looks up at Joel with a wicked grin, before taking him back into his mouth. Parting away from you, Joel groans, hips bucking up involuntarily. But when he sees Dieter grinding into his palm, his cock hard and aching under his pants, Joel tugs on his hair, fucking his mouth with shallow strokes.

Joel’s eyes go wide when the other man chokes, the sound of it equivalent to someone raking their nails over his body. His stomach flips. Something raw and visceral awakening inside him. He thrusts deeper, the head going down the other’s throat. Dieter chokes again and Joel moans, loudly. His heart beating too fast.

With the corner of his eyes, Joel watches your movements with a parted mouth. You dip lower and drag your lips up his shaft, your mouth meeting Dieter’s. You both mouth at him simultaneously, your tongues dancing. Joel fists the sheets. His eyes fixed where his cock disappears and reappears between their lips. The two moan at the same time, the reverberations seeping into the sensitive skin of his cock and making him shudder. His muscles grow taut. Precum heavily coating both of their lips. Dieter dips his tongue into the slit groaning at the taste, and you unbutton the actor’s pants, sliding your hand under his boxer briefs.

“Oh god,” Joel swallows thickly, his voice hoarse. “I’m gonna come—” he can feel his body tensing, his breaths coming in short gasps as he gets closer and closer.

You pull away and Dieter follows. Instinctively, Joel pulls at Dieter’s hair, willing the other back to his cock. His cock twitches when Dieter’s eyes roll back at the blossoming pain. You climb up the bed, cradling Joel’s face before slipping his tongue into his mouth. It’s a quick one but leaves him breathless nonetheless.

“I want you to fuck me,” you mutter, lips moving over his beard. “Will you, please?”

Joel helps you up to your feet, his hands still shaking slightly as he pushes down your dress, finishing what Dieter had started. He dips down, sucking a nipple into his mouth. His cock drips at the way you moan for him. Dieter stands behind him, his fingers trailing down the center of Joel's back as he helps him out of his shirt.

You reach for Dieter's pants, feeling the heat rising in your chest as you gaze into his eyes. He watches you intently, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. You slide the zipper down slowly, your fingers brushing against the growing bulge in his boxer briefs.

Joel steps back, allowing you to guide Dieter towards the bed. He climbs up first, propping himself up against the headboard, his eyes fixed on the scene unfolding in front of him. You kneel on the bed beside Dieter, your fingers reaching for the waistband of his underwear. You tug them down slowly, revealing his cock, already hard and throbbing.

Joel's breath catches in his throat as he watches you take Dieter's cock into your mouth, your tongue swirling around the head before sliding down the shaft. Then you pull away from him with a pop and lay down next to him, your head resting on his hip. Dieter’s hands smooth down your body, spreading your thighs. He holds Joel’s gaze as the older man’s mouth suddenly feels dry at the sight of you.

Joel moves between your legs, his fingers tracing over your slick folds, making you moan softly. He positions himself at your entrance, his eyes locked onto yours as he slowly pushes inside you. He can feel you getting wetter with every inch. You claw at Dieter’s bicep and he shushes you, one hand moving to the swell of your breasts and holding it gingerly. The small hairs across Joel’s body stand up when you let out a sharp whimper.

“Dieter,” you whine, eyes glossy. “H-He feels so good.”

God, you’re shaking around him, your pretty pussy squeezing him. Joel grunts.

“I bet he does,” Dieter murmurs, eyes looking at where you and Joel connect. He’s only halfway in. “Want me to play with your pretty clit, baby? You’re taking him so well.”

You nod quickly and Dieter doesn’t make you repeat yourself. Joel swallows. Dieter begins to draw quick, tight circles around the sensitive bundle of nerves. You gasp, your lips barely touching Dieter’s shaft. Joel feels you clenching around him, walls fluttering thanks to the actor. Dieter makes a point of brushing the tips of his fingers while attending to your need, and every time Joel feels it, his cock throbs. He buries himself deep inside you, forcing the air from your lungs. Your back arches beautifully, your nails leaving crescent moon-shaped marks into Dieter’s skin.

Joel's breathing is ragged, his eyes locked onto yours as he pumps into you harder and harder. Your eyes flutter closed. His fingers dig into your hips, anchoring you to the bed as he pounds into you. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room.

“Hold me,” you cry out, head turning to Dieter. Joel’s thrusts become harder, faster. “Shit—He’s in so deep.”

Dieter obliges, wrapping his arms around your trembling frame as your body sways back and forth with the strength of Joel’s thrusts.

“You’re taking him so well, sweetheart,” Dieter groans, his own cock heavy and dark between his legs. “You look so beautiful with him buried between his legs.” suddenly his eyes snap to Joel’s, and the older man falters a bit, his pacing becoming uneven. “Doesn’t she?” he asks him.

“She does,” Joel grunts out a response.

You let out a whimper, Joel can feel you convulsing. Your body growing taut and tense, you’re close. Joel’s not that far from it himself, dangling over the edge.

“She’s such a good girl,” Dieter continues, eyes never leaving Joel’s. “Isn’t she?”

“Jesus, she is. So fuckin’ good to me. Always.”

And with that, Joel witnesses your fall from heaven.

He watches with awe as you writhe and convulse around him, your head thrown back in ecstasy. Your body trembles with every pulse of pleasure that courses through you, and your breaths come in short gasps. You arch your back, a low moan escapes your lips, and your body tenses up around Joel's length. Your fingers dig into Dieter’s forearms s as you ride out the waves of ecstasy that ripple through your body. Joel can feel your inner walls squeezing him tightly, and he groans.

Joel can feel your wetness coating his cock, and the slickness only intensifies the pleasure he feels. He continues to thrust into you, his pace quickening as he chases his own release. Somewhere in the distance, he can hear Dieter praising you both, though mostly you, and he shudders.

Your orgasm starting to subside, he feels your body relaxing against him. He slows his pace, savoring the feeling of your hot, slick walls wrapped tightly around him. He wants to make this last as long as possible, to make you feel every inch of him. However, Joel knows nothing lasts forever.

He’s right at the edge when he pulls out, spilling over your stomach. His hot breath slides over your skin, his head buried between your breasts. Unthinking, he presses heavy, wet kisses. The tremors of his orgasm slowly fades and Joel realizes that among the three of them, there’s still one person left unsatisfied.

Joel looks up to Dieter. Despite his cock still being hard, the head an angry shade of red, he looks content with just peppering the top of your head with kisses. But he must’ve sensed the bodyguard staring because Dieter’s eyes meet his.

“You didn’t come,” Joel states.

Dieter rolls his eyes, “No shit,” he follows it up with a shrug. “But it’s okay. Seeing you two going at it was satisfying enough.”

Joel moves his jaw, thinking, contemplating on what to do. Your lids are heavy as your eyes move back and forth. Watching. The older man comes to a decision and peels himself away from you.

“Can I?” he asks, pointing at Dieter’s dick. The actor flushes.

“Can you what?” he answers, voice squeaky.

“Um. . .Jerk you off. It’s only fair.”

Joel reaches out a hand and tentatively wraps it around Dieter's shaft, giving it a gentle squeeze. Dieter lets out a small moan. His fingers start moving up and down, slowly at first, getting a feel for Dieter's size and shape. Joel has done this with another once or twice before and he can sense his confidence that was already hanging by a thread slowly dissolving. He looks up at Dieter who is already staring at him with half hooded eyes.

“Is this good?” Joel asks, licking his lips.

“Fuck yes. I’ll take whatever you give me.”

Joel’s eyes widen at the admission. He tightens his grip and strokes him faster. Your hand comes up to Dieter’s chest, caressing flushed skin with a smile. You lean closer and kiss his neck, which Dieter hums gratefully. Joel feels the heat emanating from Dieter's body, and the slight tremble in his legs as Joel picks up the pace.

"Good boy," Joel murmurs, watching as Dieter's eyes close and his mouth falls open. "So well behaved than from what I give him credit for."

Dieter lets out a soft whimper, his hips bucking up into Joel's hand. Joel adjusts his grip, tightening his fingers around Dieter's cock as he works him harder. Dieter drips all over his fingers and he uses it to lubricate his movements.

"You're so hard," Joel whispers, his mouth suddenly feeling incredibly dry. His gaze falls on you with slight envy, a tingle spreading throughout his lips. A desire to lay his lips on the other man and feel his frantic pulse for himself is a strong one, but he swallows it down. "You want to come, don't you?"

Dieter nods frantically, his breathing ragged. Joel can feel his own cock twitching.

"That's it, let go," Joel encourages, stroking him faster and swiping his palm over the head. "Come for us."

With a loud groan, Dieter's body tenses, and Joel can feel the hot spurt of cum as it lands on his hand and on Dieter's stomach. Joel keeps jerking him through his orgasm, murmuring words of encouragement as Dieter's body shakes with pleasure.

Finally, as Dieter's breathing evens out, Joel releases him, wiping his hand on the bedsheet. Dieter looks up at him with a dazed expression, a small smile on his lips.

"Thanks," he says, his voice hoarse.

Joel exhales a stuttered breath, not really knowing what else to say. "Anytime."

“Awwww,” you chime in giddily which gets on Joel’s nerves. “Look at my two boys getting along.”

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x f!reader #dieter bravo x reader #dieter bravo x f!reader #dieter bravo x female reader #dieter bravo x you #bodyguard!joel miller #actress!reader #joel miller x reader x dieter bravo #the bubble fic #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal character fanfic #pedro pascal characters

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captain-mj · 3 months

Text

Wrote this at a laundromat so I hope you guys like it

Ghost had just moved to Scotland to get away from everything. His family's murders stayed a constant thought in his mind, but more than that, he didn't want anyone still loyal to Roba to find him. After wiping them off the map, he decided to do something he never thought possible.

Chose himself.

So he made his way to Scotland where no one would know Simon Riley and he bought a house and lived next to a small town so he could go over and get whatever supplies he needed before coming to hide again.

That's where he met him.

A local man who apparently was involved in the church and was in general a great person.. Most people referred to him as Soap, which Ghost thought was a very strange name, but he had also heard MacTavish which seemed more realistic.

The man saw Ghost, probably decided he was emotionally vulnerable, and decided to skulk around him. He asked, begged, pleading for Ghost to join his congregation.

Ghost turned him down each time, though he did love to see a pretty man beg. Once, he lifted lifted his mask, let him see the Glasgow smile cut into his cheeks. He hoped that Soap would assume gang member or miscreant and leave him alone, but it seemed to spur him on.

Soap MacTavish, savior of big buff men. Patron saint of being annoying.

Ghost started... watching him. The way he moved. His smile, just a little too wide with teeth a little too sharp.

He was... handsome. Seemingly kind. But Ghost was like a stray. He didn't trust affection and he wanted to keep it that way. No matter how honeyed Soap made his words or how kind the scraps he offered. Something about the man was unsettling.

Soap simply knocked on his door one day at dusk. Ghost only answered when he had his mask on. He had some kind of food in containers. "Hey! Several people I know made me these and gifted them to me, but I don't think I'll be able to eat all they gave me. Thought you might appreciate them. I know I'd be homesick, in such a new area."

Ghost stared at him, hands itching. "How did you know where I lived?"

"i knew the people who lived here before. Laid them to rest myself. Saw their last rites and all that. No other empty house around for miles."

"Other people know...?"

"Doubt it. Most don't think of you too much." Soap sniffed, looking around. "I assumed that's what you'd prefer."

"It is. Thanks."

Soap smiled. "I'll keep it between us." He kept standing there. Just waiting.

"I'm not going to invite you inside."

Immediately, those soft lips turned into a pouty frown. "At least take the desserts. I really do have no use for them."

Ghost didn't want to disappoint him for some reason, so he awkwardly took the food. "Okay. Address between us right?"

"Of course. With God as my witness." Soap grinned and left.

If Ghost would've thought about it, he'd made him promise to never come back as well. But he did not do that.

He went into his kitchen and opened the container.

Cranachan. Ghost had heard of it. The King of Scottish Desserts.

He grabbed a spoon and brought a bite to his mouth slowly. There was a thick cream with oats and raspberries. When he put a bite in his mouth, he could taste the honey and whiskey.

It was so good.

Ghost dug in on his couch. He was pretty sure this was supposed to be something he'd eat off for a few days, but he devoured all of it in one sitting. There was more of the raspberries sauce and Ghost found himself licking it from his fingers. A warmth settled in his chest from it.

Maybe Soap wasn't terrible.

Ghost got ready to start his routine of checking all of the windows and doors, but his couch suddenly felt so comfy. He felt his eyes start to close, the warmth spreading more.

For the first time since being a kid, Ghost slept all the way through the night with no nightmares.

Ghost cleaned up from the night before, feeling comfy. He noticed one of his windows was unlocked and chided himself for being so forgetful. After two sweeps of the house, he was sure no one was in his house and nothing was missing.

The dishes sat on the counter, suddenly suspicious. The idea of there being something in it was preposterous.

Ghost cleaned the dishes. "He's a fucking poster boy for good. You're being paranoid."

As time went on, he noticed things. Always on his porch or right outside. Tapping or animal noises or sometimes visions of someone right outside. The wonderful night of sleep was the last time he slept for a while.

Soap showed up again. A cross necklace Ghost couldn't remember seeing was around his neck. He looked apologetic as he had more of the delicious treat. "Sorry. It's raspberry season so everyone is making it and... well... I don't really have much of a sweet tooth."

Ghost looked at him coldly. "And you're bringing it to me? No orphans to give it to? Children to target?"

It was the first time Soap had looked upset at him. Ghost was a military man. He dealt with that constantly back in his troop. But for some reason, Soap's unhappiness got under his skin.

"No, Ghost. I just... thought you might be feeling lonely. Ya probably think I'm naive. Small town guy, always trying to talk to you..." He looked embarrassed. "Never met someone from Manchester. And before you ask, I figured it out by your accent."

Ghost looked at him for a few minutes before looking away to pretend he wasn't affected by him. "I don't."

"Gotcha... I can just... take the food."

"No. I'll still take that." Ghost quickly grabbed the home made food, noticing Soap's flash of a smile. He bit his lip as he cradled the food. "Look, I'm not a good guy. Definitely not someone you need around you."

Soap looked at him sadly. "Even outside of my faith, I still think all people deserve someone. I just... want to try to make you feel less lonely."

Ghost sighed. "Alright. Come in."

Soap got so excited. He carefully walked inside and glanced around, moving his weight back and forth between each foot.

Ghost sat on the chair he had. "Haven't exactly bought much furniture. But you're allowed to get comfy."

Soap grabbed the couch and smiled brightly. There was something about him. He looked at him and his eyes... had a shimmer to it.

Ghost paused, holding the bowl.

"Are you going to put it away? Or eat it right now?" Soap asked conversationally. He batted his eyelashes.

Ghost gnawed on the inside of his cheek. "Gonna put it away for now."

"I see. Have you been sleeping well? This place seems... so isolated. I don't think I could ever quite get a good sleep."

Ghost couldn't think of a good answer besides the truth. "Sleep has never came easy to me."

Soap frowned, batting his eyelashes at him. "I'm sorry. I hope it gets easier for you." He seemed so genuine. So sweet.

Ghost shrugged. "Thank you..."

They started to slip into rather easy banter, but he found his eyes getting heavier.

Soap got up and picked his way over. For a moment, Ghost was afraid. He almost lashed out, afraid. But he didn't touch him. He leaned in, eyes glowing against the backdrop of everything around them. "Sleep well, Ghost."

Ghost fell asleep on his chair. Soap locked the door on the way out but he didn't lock the windows.

Ghost found Tommy's photo album and went through them. He looked at the various photos of him and his family and he found himself missing them again. They looked so cute. So perfect. He left them on his coffee table, messy and covering every inch.

Joseph looked up at him, bright smiling face.

Simon was holding him. Blond curls that he spent too much time keeping bleached. No scarring.

He felt like he was going crazy as things... moved around his house. Things moved right out of the corner of his eyes. So he started preparing.

Guns were tucked into every hiding place he could. Knives even more so. He started to work out again for the first time in a few weeks. Luckily he hadn't lost too much of his physique.

Ghost eventually found himself eating the cranachan. He slept well. It was unsettling.

Right before dawn, Soap arrived at his house. The clouds were churning together but there was still some sunlight streaming through. "I brought coffee. Are you a coffee person?"

Ghost wasn't usually, but rather than deal with Soap's sad look again, he took the drink. He sipped it and found himself pleasantly surprised at how good it was.

Soap smiled. "Have any plans?"

"Gonna make breakfast... wanna join?" Why did he say that??

Soap smiled and quickly walked in. "I'd love to."

Ghost started to cook. He had been trying to learn more cooking lately so hopefully it wasn't too bad.

Soap looked thankful when he set it down and started to eat. They did so in basically silence. The cross necklace kept catching the light so he kept staring at it. When he lifted his gaze to look at his eyes, they made direct eye contact.

Soap's eyes. They were so dark. Like a shark.

Ghost felt for the gun under his side table. He tried to keep up conversation.

"Don't grab that gun, Simon."

Ghost paused what he was doing, watching the cross necklace sway where it sat. "What?"

Soap sighed. "Don't be like that. The gun your hand is on. Don't grab it." His nails clicked against the table. Too long. Too alarming. "Be a good boy, Simon."

Ghost stared at him, debating what could be done here.

"I'm not going to hurt you."

"What are you?"

"Not a danger to you." Soap answers a little pedantically. "I promise." His canines. They were long and curved.

Ghost glanced at the coffee. "You were drugging me."

Soap hummed. "No. More of a... side effect of my presence. You feeling anything right now?"

Ghost could feel something tugging at the edge of his consciousness but nothing too severe. "What do you want?"

Soap swallowed. "I'm hungry. Starving."

"You saw me up here. Being vulnerable. And decided you could fuc-"

"No. Not quite. I... I know you could keep a secret."

Ghost blinked, realizing the situation. "You're... asking."

Soap looked pained. "I am. A... deal. I keep everyone away. Tell them whatever I need so they leave you alone and I get to..." His eyes trailed to Ghost's throat.

"How bad is the feeding?"

"Not bad! I take about as much blood as a blood donation. Easy peasy. I'll even bring you food for recovery just please..."

Ghost undid the top button of his shirt and Soap looked ready to wiggle out of his seat. The poor man was salivating.

Why was he doing this?

it was stupid.

Idiotic.

Self-sacrificing.

The mask hit the table.

"Go for it."

Soap leapt over the table and sat in his lap. Teeth sank into his throat as he held him, holding him tight. They pressed together and Ghost could feel the unsettling chill that came from Soap.

He grabbed the table, almost white knuckling it.

Pain radiated from where he was being stabbed into and he felt himself go lightheaded. Soap's ass was pressed firmly to his lap though and it felt...

pleasurable.

Slowly he sank into it, feeling Soap take his fill.

His pretty boy thanked him, lips bright red from blood. "Thank you. Thank you. You're perfect. My angel from heaven."

Their lips touched and Ghost groaned softly.

Soap panted in his ear. "I'll be good. Promise. Take care of you." His claws sank into Ghost who was wondering how bad the situation he landed himself was.

#call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #simon ghost riley #johnny soap mactavish #call of duty modern warfare ii #cod mw2 #ghostsoap #cod #soapghost #ghoap

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reiderwriter · 8 months

Note

hi 💖 I’m literally ✨obsessed✨ with your writing atm and I’ve never done a request before so I thought this would be the perfect opportunity!!

I would love to read an established couple fic where reader drops by !professor spencer’s office and spicy times ensue 🌶️👀 the trope where reader is inexplicably jealous of the girls auditing his class gets me every 🤌 single 🤌 time 🤌 (but don’t feel like you have to include that trope!! I’m a sucker for any !professor spencer smut lmao)

- 🐺 anon

A/N: Thank you sm for your request!! I am also slightly unhinged about Professor Spencer (I think this is my second one this month lmao) so I hope you enjoy!

Warnings: use of sir, degradation, fingering, no contraception, PinV sex, semi-public sex, jealous reader (she's like 27 beefing with undergrads), age-gap (15 years), Spencer keeps a souvenir of her visit 😊. Also I don't even know if American lecturers have office hours, so like... For context I am a European living in SK lmao. 18+ MINORS DNI

W/C: ~2k

Check out my masterlist!!

You’d lost count of how many times you’d visited Spencer in his office now that he’d started lecturing semi-regularly. The break from his regular activities as a member of the BAU suited him well, and you had no complaints either, loving having an excuse to drop by the college campus he was based on to visit the cute student-run coffee shops and explore the space. And since you’d started working from home while you wrote your novel, you definitely had the time to visit.

Usually, you’d find him in some lecture theatre or the other, but having walked around all his regularly scheduled rooms, he was nowhere in sight. You shrugged a little, figuring that he must be in his office if he was nowhere else. You were right, of course, but he wasn’t exactly alone.

A line of undergrads had formed at his door as you noticed the sign pinned to his door mentioned his updated office hours for the semester in the run-up to finals week. Typical. You were never the best-timed person, and you could see that you weren’t going to get his attention for a while from the look of all the students. You waited outside for him to open the door and summon the next student into his office, settling onto a couch opposite his door.

You weren’t trying to listen in to the multiple conversations going on, but you couldn’t help it when they were being so loud and open.

“God, he’s so fucking hot, I just want him to bend me over that desk and-”

“-wonder if he’s single. If he is, I’m totally going to make a move-”

“-I just know it’s big-”

“- in that lecture about the serial rapist, all I could think about was his hands-”

You blushed a little deeper with each of their confessions. They didn’t know who you were, of course they didn’t, and you sure as hell weren’t going to tell them. But now you knew why it was that they were here, and honestly, you couldn’t blame them for lusting after the man, you’d done the same thing. Your relationship had started in a similar way. You’d knocked on the doors of the FBI with a case back when you were a journalist, and been met with those big brown eyes and it had taken your entire strength to not jump him then and there.

So you understood. But you didn’t have to like it, and you certainly did not. The longer you sat there, the older you felt, constantly resisting the urge to yell at these kids in an old maid's way. Gods he was old enough to be some of these girls’ fathers. You weren’t exactly close in age with him yourself, a gap of about 15 years separating the two of you, but come on.

The door to his office finally cracked open, and you followed the sound of his voice, still rambling out facts as he let the student out.

“Now that you have the difference between stressor and trigger down, you’ll find it easier to interpret some of the readings, just keep in mind that sometimes they can be one and the same.” The student nodded and thanked him before leaving, a slightly disappointed look shadowing her face.

“Y/N, what are you doing here?” His smile lit up the second he saw you, and you held out the coffee you’d bought him earlier to him.

“Thought I’d drop in and see you. I missed you.” Maybe it was petty of you in front of literal teenagers and people who couldn’t even legally drink yet, but you wrapped a hand around his waist, underneath his suit jacket, and looked up at him with a big grin, fluttering your eyelashes. He looked at you with knotted eyebrows, trying to decode your words as if they were the key to cracking a case he was working on.

You felt the eyes of the students burning into you, heard them whispering to each other and your grin deepened. You’d marked your territory successfully.

“I’m sorry, I’ve got office hours for the next 25 minutes, do you mind waiting?” He looked apologetically down at you, speaking with a bit of an awkward tone, not used to the notable PDA.

“That’s fine. I can wait out here, right?” You asked, trying to give him your most innocent look. He nodded his assent, and you returned to your seat, grabbing a book from your bag and settling in as he welcomed the next student to his office.

An hour later, all the students had finally dispersed. A fair few of them had given up after you made your identity known, embarrassingly slinking away from the queue, but a fair few had stuck it out, still just wanting a glimpse of him. The conversation had dimmed though, now back on the topic of college parties and TikTok stars or something.

When the final student slipped out of the office, you jumped up enthusiastically and joined Reid inside, letting yourself in with a small knock and a sing-song “professor.”

He was sat at his desk, glasses perched on his nose looking down at some papers, and looking as attractive as he had the day you’d met him. You slunk over to him, swirling his chair around so you could sit on his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck and pressing a deep kiss to his lips.

“What’s gotten into you today?” He asked, grabbing your hips and pulling you closer to him, obviously not objecting to the sudden physicality of your affection. “It’s not an anniversary, we’re only on our 1,813th day of dating which doesn’t mark any milestones or other special cultural holidays, so what gives.”

“You know I love it when you talk numbers to me.”

“You know I love it even more when you spill and tell me what’s going on? Come on, Y/N, something’s different.” You pouted at this goddamn superhuman perception. It was going to be embarrassing to admit that you saw the gaggle of girls that had been crowding around his office as competition.

“There were a lot of students today.” You said, simply changing the topic a bit, hoping you wouldn’t have to explicitly name the green-eyed monster that had taken over you.

“Not really, that’s about the amount I get every time I open office hours.”

“Every time?” He’d told you often that you were an absolutely open book, your facial expressions baring your every thought and feeling. So you cursed yourself at the pout you felt forming on your lips.

“Woah, what was that? Y/N, are you… are you jealous?”He laughed a little bit as your frown deepened, a flush coming up to cover your face.

“So what if I am?”

“Have I not been paying enough attention to you, baby?” He trailed his hand up between your thighs and your breath hitched as you felt the tone of the conversation immediately shift.

“They were talking about you, y’know?” your breath hitched at the last word, as his hand found its way to your clit, beginning to press the tiniest of circles around that nerve.

“Oh? What were they saying that made my princess so upset?” The hand gripping your hip was nearly painful now, as he clasped you tightly, letting your legs spread for him as he slowly picked up the pace, your back now flush against his chest as he looked down to between your legs from over your shoulder. Your head was thrown back against him, your chest rising and falling with every small movement.

“They were talking a-about your hands,” you moaned out. His eyes stayed fixed on your center, but his free hand trailed up to your blouse, popping a few buttons expertly so he could see the rise and form of your chest, see your nipples sticking out through the thin bra you’d chosen that morning.

“Hmm, is that it baby? They just talked about these hands?” He continued at his agonizing pace on your clit as his hand lifted to your nipples, pulling one breast free of your bra and beginning to roll it between his fingers. You writhed at the touch, trying desperately to keep quiet, knowing from your time outside just how thin these walls were.

“Baby, I think you didn’t hear me. Was that all they said?” His tone was darker now, and you knew you had to answer before he made you.

“No!” You moaned out, trying to gain back some composure when all you wanted to do was relax into his hands and let him pull your release from you. “They… they said they knew you were big… Down there.” He laughed a little at that and shifted his hips underneath you.

“And are they correct baby?” You feel him pressing against your leg now and it takes everything in you not to let your eyes roll back in pleasure and let him use you as he wants.

“Yes, sir. They were… they were right, you always fill me up so good.” Your hips start grinding down into his, his hand stilling as you use him to get yourself off.

“There’s something else they said, right, baby? You’re holding something back?” He smiled, dropping hot open-mouthed kisses to your neck as you frantically rubbed yourself up against him. Your moans were ripping out from your mouth now in frustrated moans, as you felt needy in a way you’d never quite experienced before.

“Stop teasing, Spencer.”

“No. This is my office, and you come in draping yourself all over me like a whore in front of all of my students. You don’t get to call me Spencer right now, you’re going to have to show a little bit more respect.” With those words he pushed you up to your feet, pulling his hands off of you before quickly clearing a space on the desk and bending you over it.

“I heard this bit. They said they wanted me to bend them over and take them like this, right?” You heard him unzip his pants, bringing the tip of his cock to your entrance as he started teasing you, pulling your panties to the side. You moaned out a yes, but that wasn’t enough for him anymore.

“Use your words, baby. What did they want me to do to them?”

“They wanted you to bend them over the desk and fuck them like a little whore, sir.” With that confession out in the open, he finally pushed into you, stretching you out with a sinful groan slipping from his mouth.

“Fuck baby, so tight and wet for me…” His thrusts were hard and slow, and you could feel the wetness seeping down your legs, the wet sounds of your activity filling the space infinitely. His pace picked up and so did your constant mewls from the contact, the sounds completely unmistakable for anything but base lust.

“You’re so fucking wet for me, sweetheart. Going to come, right here on my cock in my office, huh?”

“Yes, sir, I’m going to…. Shit, I’m going to cum.” He grabbed your hair and pulled your face up to his, swallowing each of your moans with his mouth as he let his tongue explore, your body twitching still under his ministrations. He kept his rough pace up for another minute or two before hitting his peak as well, pulling out to empty himself out on your thighs.

“Shit, Y/N,” he mumbled, falling back into his chair and running a hand through his tousled hair as you fell forward back into the desk, chest heaving. He was at eye level with the results of his labour and you heard the sound of his phone camera clicking before you could pull yourself together.

“Spencer!” You giggled awkwardly, looking back at him with an incredulous look as he pulled some tissues out of the desk drawer and started cleaning you up.

“What? I always take notes during my office hours.” He grinned up at you, as you turned around and planted another kiss to his lips, pulling him back up to you.

“How many students do you think will actually turn up to your class tomorrow?”

“I’ll be lucky if the module actually has any sign-ups next term.”

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid smut #mgg #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fandom #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x reader smut #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x oc #spencer reid fandom #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds smut #Requested #🐺 anon

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deans-angel67 · 2 months

Text

Rooftop

Summary: You and Spider-Man meet on a rooftop, feelings develop, but you don't know him. Or do you?

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Word count: 1000ish

Warnings: none, just fluff

A/N: I wrote this a long time ago and just found it. So I tweaked it and I hope you like it. Also not my gift.

____

You sat on a roof top, legs dangling off the side while you watched the sunset. You took another bite of the sandwich you got at Delmar's. Taking a deep breath, enjoying the sunset. Feeling a slight sting as the cool air filled your lungs.

"I know your there spidey." You said matter a factly, finishing your mouth full.

"How!? I didn't make a sound." He questioned his voice slightly getting higher.

"I felt the energy radiate from your soul." You told him sarcasticly.

"What!?" He was so confused, the eyes on his mask moving.

"So, do I ever find out who the famous Spider-Man is?" You teased, standing up and turning around, balancing yourself on the ledge.

"What if you already knew him?" Spidey teased back, as you stepped off the edge of the building onto the safer part of the roof. He started walking towards you.

"Do I?" You questioned, taking a few more steps.

"Maybe." He retorted, stopping infront of you. He looked out at the sky the pink and orange dancing together to create one of nature's masterpieces.

You and Spidey had been meeting up on this very roof top for a month straight. And you felt as if something had clicked between the two of you. The playfull banter and sharing of snacks, as much as the deep conversations while somehow maintaining a sense of privacy. It made something inside you feel funny in a good way. He made you feel safe, even if you didn't truly know him.

But at the same time there was Peter the scrawny kid at school who didn't look so scrawny anymore. Of course you had a crush on him, he was sweet and empathetic and he wanted to help others, he constantly was. With school work, or helping an old lady cross the road, or volunteering at May's work. But you and him? That would never happen.

You two were friends. Strictly friends. You, Peter, MJ, and Ned. It was perfect. It was your little group. Why mess it up?

What you found strange was how similar the two were. Although the great Spider-Man tried to hide it you knew he was a nerd. He was clearly a teen, who was struggling to find his place in the world. And Peter was a massive nerd, I mean just the shirts he wore. He too was struggling to find what he wanted to do, or where he wanted to be.

Spidey sat down on the ledge and you joined him. You offered your half eaten sandwich and he gracefully took it. Lifting his mask as you started at him, right before he could take a bite and then looked over at you. You looked back at the sky.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" You said the sun close to disappearing into the horizon.

"Yeah it is." He spoke so quietly you almost didn't catch it. You looked over only to realize he wasn't looking at the sunset.

God you wish you could see his eyes right now. The eyes on his mask shifted as he looked down at your lips and you looked down at his. He started to lean in and as he was milameters from your lips. His hot breath coming in contact with your skin, you turned your head to the side and slightly leaned back. He swallowed hard before leaning back.

The choice had been made. Peter. He was the one.

"I'm sorry." Spider-Man said letting out a sigh.

"Look I like you, your kind, and smart and you save this city but I don't know who you are, how old you are or what school you go to. Assuming you go to school. I would kiss you but I- I" You stuttered trying to get the word out.

"Like someone else." He finished you scentence looking up at the sky.

"Yea."

"Whats he like?" He asked, taking you by suprise. When most guys were rejected for another they got angry and weird, but he didn't.

"Uhm, he- he's nice, smart, a total dork. He used to be pretty scrawny but he isn't anymore, although I don't think anyone really noticed. His name is Peter. He's kind and he's in the mathleets. He helps me with most of the homework, since I kinda suck at it. He's such a good friend. Always there when you need him. But I just don't know how to tell him. God I'm stupid." You rambled a smile on your lips, not noticing that spidey was trying to get your attention. But he got it regardless.

He crashed his lips onto yours making you shut up. He quickly pulled away and swifly removed his mask.

"I like you to dork." Your brain was lagging, your mouth hung open overwelmed by what just happened. A strange feeling settled in your stomach before butterflies urupted.

"Peter?" You questioned, with wide eyes and a confused face.

"Hey." He gave you a cute smile before you grabbed the back of his neck and pulled his lips to yours again.

#spiderman #spider man #marvel #marvel mcu #marvel movies #marvel studios #marvel universe #into the spider verse #michelle jones #tony stark #peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #peter parker x y/n #peter parker

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writersmess · 7 months

Note

Ok, first of all

I LOVED the buck fanfic you wrote the other day, my heart...melting! So, I came back with a New idea! (If you want it, of course)

Now. Season 6 Was a rollercoaster of emotions, especially when buck got Hit by lighting. What if his fiance (from your other work) is by him day and night, being all calm and optimistic, knowing buck. And when he finally draws his first breath all alone, she just falls on her knees, crying and finally letting it all out what she held back all this time?

Now, if you don't want to do it, just simply skip 😊 no one forces you. Anyway! Have a great time and take Breaks, think about yourself.

COME BACK (TO REALITY) | EVAN BUCKLEY

Pairing: Evan Buckley x fem!reader

Summary: After being proposed to by Buck in the middle of the night, you didn’t expect an accident to change the course of your lives.

Warning: Mental breakdown, crying, hospital, mention of being struck by lightning.

Word count: 1.5k

a/n: oh my god, I didn’t think it would take me so long to get back. these months have been so crazy at work, I’ve been doing crazy shifts and I’m trying to get my social life back together again. I’ve missed writing for our troublemaker boy.

I hope you enjoy it!!! And I apologize if there’s any mistakes, English is not my first language.

It can be read as a sequel to Vivid Dream.

Masterlist

...........................................

“buck had an accident, we’re at the hospital”

All it took was one message to turn your life upside down.

It’s funny how life is a great well of irony. you spend half of your life by yourself, sometimes hoping to find your soulmate, sometimes not. and then you find them. and they’re everything you didn’t even know you were looking for.

It was amazing how you and buck matched but at the same time were so different. you were adorable. had the warmest and the most welcoming smiles and hugs, and the best advice anyone could ever need. and you were determined, you knew what you wanted for your future, ever since you were a kid. and buck, well, it was buck. the boy who ran away in the hope of finding himself and finding the true meaning of happiness.

which he didn’t imagine that it would be in those sparkling eyes of yours or in that sincere smile on your lips.

and you also didn’t expect to find it so soon in a man like buck. so spontaneous, with such a beautiful smile, and with such a traumatic past.

and that was your fiancé now.

after proposing at 4am in the middle of a shift. with no ring and definitely with no preparation, but with the greatest love that could fit inside of that heart full os scars of him.

“going on a call. love you”

The opened and unanswered message screamed in the car holder as you drove through the dark and empty streets of L.A.

you didn’t know what to expect, what could have happened. you took deep and long breathes, your hands shaking as you gripped the steering wheel, your heart pounding.

“He was struck by lightning”

you knew all the risks that this job entailed, but this was something totally beyond your imagination. it was something impossible to predict.

you paced back and forth in the corner of the waiting room, not wanting to see the looks of pity from your friends. buck would be fine soon, he would face this like he faced everything else.

Eddie without saying a word stopped in front of you and waited until you noticed his presence, so he could hug you. and that’s exactly what you needed at the moment.

“only one of you can go and see him now”

before the doctor had finished his sentence you were at his side, walking with him to the room where your best friend, your fiancé, was.

and he was there. sedated. intubated. It’s like your world was one step away from falling apart. You’d never felt like this before, like control was out of your hands. you had it all figured out, all the plans, the dreams, the next steps, everything was millimetrically planned. and suddenly it wasn’t anymore. your eyes were on Buck lying on the gurney, in such a deep sleep, his face was confused, his frown slightly furrowed, as if he was in an argument, or frustrated.

a few days has passed and Buck’s condition was stable. the days had been grayer, your apartment was empty and you didn’t feel like working, at all. but you woke up every day, put a smile on your face and tried to be optimistic, you had faith that he would get well, he needed to. he needed to come back to you.

You didn’t know it, but 118 commented about you, they thought you were in a state of shock. you didn’t cry, quite the opposite, you always had a smile on your face. when someone was worried about Buck’s situation, you would put your hand on their shoulder and tell them that everything would be fine, that he would be back soon. Eddie was very worried. he knew you, and he knew that you were going to fall apart at any moment, and he hoped to be around when it happened.

you were coming into Buck’s room when you saw Chris talking to your unconscious fiancé, and your eyes automatically filled with tears. you kept quiet and stood in the corner watching the scene and could see Eddie drying his tears, and your heart sank. you needed the love of your life back, Eddie needed his best friend back, Chris needed his playmate back. Buck needed to come back, he needed to fill in the gaps that were open in so many hearts.

“hey buddy, how was your conversation with Buck?” you made yourself noticed when Chris finished talking to him and he smiled when he saw you.

“is he going to be okay right?” Eddie could see you trying hard to hold back the tears, something he didn’t even bother to hide anymore.

“of course sweety, he’ll come back to us”

***

it was mid-afternoon, you were sitting in the chair next to his bed, trying to read a book, when your mind started to take you to places you didn’t want to go. everything started coming at you hard, all these feelings. it was an anxiety crisis. you felt your heart pounding, difficulty in drawing in air, and tears began to fall.

you approached the bed and held tightly onto the hand of the man lying in that bed.

“babe I can’t do it anymore. I can’t put a smile on my face and pretend that everything is fine when it isn’t. I need you here with me. I know you’ll be fine, I know it. but Chris, Eddie, damn it, everyone, needs you back, we need you, I need you, and I don’t know how to go on without you here, I don’t know. So i need you to fight for me, for us, fight and win this battle babe, win it for me and don’t leave me, please don’t leave me”

And you couldn’t imagine it, but the other end of the line that connected Buck to this plan was in you. He clung to that, he clung to you, to the thought of having you again, and for that he fought, for you he broke the glass that separated him between dream and reality, between life and death, it was for you that everything was worth it. Because of you he would come back.

And he did it.

You could feel a grip on your hand, it was light, but it was there. your eyes widened and your heart skipped a beat. this couldn’t be a reflex, you couldn’t believe it was. and it really wasn’t, your Buck was coming back, he was reacting.

As if he’d sensed it, Eddie appeared in the room with the coffee he’d gone to grab, at the exactly moment your knees failed, and he held you.

“I-Is he...?”

“Hey hey, calm down”

You couldn’t complete the sentence, and before your friend could question you, you heard a weak cough, it was Buck, he really was there. back to you.

You were holding Buck’s hand as if your life depended on it, and to be honest, it kind of did. you, who had never fallen in love in your life, were completely surrendered to those blue eyes that you had begged to see again.

You didn’t notice the moment Eddie left the room, but when your eyes met Buck’s, you burst into tears. He couldn’t say much, and you didn’t even need or want him to try, he was there, that’s all that mattered at the moment. you had your head resting on your intertwined hands on the bed, and the sobs coming from your lips left the words stuck in your throat and in your mind. Buck slowly and painfully raised his trembling hand, reaching your head and resting his hand there.

He waited until you calmed down, and his chest tightened at the way you looked at him. your lips trembling and your face wet from the tears that kept falling down your cheeks.

“you’re back”

“for you” his voice was weak and hoarse.

“I never thought I could love someone the way I love you, buck. please don’t do it again, I know I can’t take it one more time” your voice was low and trembling.

“I proposed to you, I had to come back to make sure it would happen,” he whispered with that little smile on his lips.

“You idiot, you made me a promise to love me for the rest of my days, I was going to pick you up wherever you were,” you replied in a whisper and placed a light kiss on his lips, afraid of hurting him.

“I love you, and i’m going to keep that promise” he said and you nodded your head.

that intimate moment between you lasted only a few minutes, then the nurses and doctor entered the room to check on Buck and as soon as they allowed his friends to come in, the mess was made. there was laughter and loud conversation, happy hugs and stories about the day of the accident, you could hear “too soon?” too many times in a short period of time and all you could do was laugh.

You could see the happiness in your fiancé’s eyes as everyone gathered around, and you finally felt your heart calm down. he was really there, he came back to you and you could finally live out your vivid dreams together.

#911 imagine #evan buckley imagine #evan buckley x reader #911 fanfic #buck x reader #evan buck buckley

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steddie-island · 21 days

Text

Mutually Beneficial

After seeing this art by @2jihiir0, inspiration struck and I wrote a thing. This isn't what I usually write, I hope I did your art justice and that you like it as much as Steve likes Eddie being a little mean. 😅 Words: 1,237 | Rating: E | Tags: Age gap (Older Eddie Munson, Younger Steve Harrington), Mean dom Eddie, Choking, Possessive Eddie Munson, Top Eddie Munson, Bottom Steve Harrington See ao3 for full list of tags

“Oh my god –”

It had started innocently enough, with Steve getting kicked out as soon as he’d graduated and with Eddie Munson, town outcast, advertising a room for rent and a kid who needed a sitter. Moving in would be mutually beneficial.

"Eddie, please–”

The trailer was different from what Steve was used to. The water heater was always on the fritz, it leaked when it rained, and sometimes it smelled like weed and whiskey, but the rent was cheap, his bed was comfortable, and Eddie’s kid was an angel. The sweetest little girl with big brown eyes and a head full of curls that matched her daddy’s. Steve loved her, loved watching Eddie with her and seeing how his whole demeanor changed when she was awake. He was a Doberman and she was the person he would cut the world down at the knees for. He looked at her so fucking tenderly.

Sometimes Steve caught Eddie looking at him like that, all soft and tender. When he was feeding Rhiannon, or when Eddie would come back from a business deal (Steve wasn’t stupid, he had his suspicions about what went on but he wouldn’t ask. He just knew Eddie left with an empty wallet and returned with a big wad of cash) to find the two of them reading on the couch together.

Eddie’s eyes didn’t stay soft like that when it was just the two of them. When they were alone his gaze would go almost sharklike as he sat back against the couch and watched every move Steve made.

Steve would catch him, would flush hot from head to toe. And maybe someone else would’ve seen it as a red flag, as a caution sign, but Steve had never been very good at listening to the warning labels.

It came to a head one night while Steve was cleaning up the kitchen after Rhiannon had been put to bed. He didn’t have to catch Eddie to know those dark eyes were on him, he could feel it like a physical pressure between his shoulder blades. And then it wasn’t just those eyes he could feel. It was big hands on his slim hips, Eddie’s chest against his back.

“You’re a pretty thing when you get all pink and shy,” Eddie had murmured. He smelled like the whiskey he’d been sipping since before dinner. “I keep wondering how far down your blush goes…”

Steve’s knees had nearly given out as Eddie’s fingers slipped under his t-shirt, then down beneath the waistband of his pajama bottoms. “I got a feeling it goes all… the way… down.” His hand, so rough and big and hot , wrapped around Steve’s dick, made him whimper with how tight his grip was.

A kiss was pressed to his throat while Eddie’s thumbnail caught at his slit, making his hips jerk.

“Pretty thing, why don’t you let me find out for myself, hmm? You take care of me… and I’ll take care of you.” As if to prove his point, Eddie had hit his knees. He’d bent Steve over the counter, had licked him long and deep and made him come twice with his mouth and his fingers, all before Eddie’s dick was ever inside of him.

Really, how was Steve supposed to argue with that?

“Use your words, sweet boy,” Eddie murmured. He was sitting with his arms spread across the back of the couch. His pants were open, his tanktop rucked up to show off the tattoos over his stomach.

And Steve was fucking himself down onto that thick cock.

“Please– oh god, please –”

“You said that already. Please what, baby?” Eddie threaded his fingers into Steve’s hair, tugged in a way that made Steve whimper and his dick twitch against his belly. “I told you we have to make it quick. Can’t make it quick if you don’t use your words and ask for what you need, huh?”

Steve bit down another sound as he tried to lean forward, to get his mouth on Eddie’s. “Touch me,” he begged. Just having Eddie inside of him wasn’t enough. It wasn’t enough and Eddie knew that. “Don’t be mean–” “Angel, we both know you like it when I’m a little mean.” Eddie’s hand slipped down to Steve’s shoulder blade, to one of the deep bruises he’d left as he’d pounded Steve into the mattress the night before. “Don’t you?” “Ed–” Steve gasped as Eddie’s hand dropped down from his back and between his asscheeks. He was loose, open, had already taken Eddie twice that morning, too, and had the mess left in his underwear as proof. It was so easy for Eddie to shift just a little and have a finger sliding in right alongside his cock. “That what you wanted, pretty thing?” Eddie snapped his hips up once and Steve had to catch himself against Eddie’s chest. “God, look at you. So fucking greedy. So desperate for it, aren’t you?”

“Yes–” Steve was sobbing. He felt rattled, exposed, stretched so fucking wide in a way that only Eddie had ever done to him. “Please– more–” Eddie’s other hand was on his throat then, squeezing until Steve could barely get a sound out, until his eyes were rolling into the back of his head from how goddamn overwhelming this was. “I told you to be quiet, didn’t I?” Teeth dragged over Steve’s jaw, down below his ear. “It’s like you want the whole world to hear what I’m doin’ to you, like you want them to know how much you like being a slut for me, huh? How much you like being mine ?” Steve could only nod and rock that much harder. Too much, too fucking much and yet not enough to push him over the edge– Eddie slipped a second finger inside and drove up hard again, again, steady thrusts that hit his prostate and had sparks going off in Steve’s brain. He could only sit there and take it, take everything this beautiful monster of a man wanted to give him and then some.

“Are you gonna be quiet if I let go?” Eddie asked. “Are you gonna be my good boy?” Steve nodded. Eddie’s fingers loosened. And with a stifled, broken cry, Steve arched his back as his orgasm rushed through him so hard it almost fucking hurt. Eddie’s fingers were out of his body, a hand was in his hair to guide his face into Eddie’s neck. He smelled like sweat and whiskey, and being pressed there muffled the noises Steve made as Eddie fucked into him roughly again.

Eddie barely made a sound as he spilled into Steve’s body for the third time.

They sat there, letting sweat and tears and come dry on their skin, until Steve had stopped shaking and could formulate a full sentence. Eddie would kiss him, tell him how sweet he was before he found Steve’s underwear and track shorts where they’d been thrown aside. When Steve’s legs regained feeling he would get his clothes on.

Eddie would tuck his cock away.

And before Steve was allowed to settle back down with his legs in Eddie’s lap, two more tally marks would have to be added to their ongoing count. One, in pencil, to the wallpaper behind the couch. And one in permanent marker to the inside of Steve’s thigh.

A brand for the two of them– for Eddie – to see.

#Steddie fic #Steddie ficlet #Steddie #Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson #kintsugi_kid ao3

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teyamsatan · 7 months

Text

ᴋɪɴᴋᴛᴏʙᴇʀ ᴅᴀʏ ɪɪɪ - ᴛʜɪɢʜ ʀɪᴅɪɴɢ

pairing: dilf!jake x human!reader (part of False God)

➽ a/n: i wrote this literally an hour before posting so i hope you besties enjoy x i was gonna reuse an older jake drabble but @jakexneytiri inspired this, so blame her hahahaha. dilf!jake will never not make me feral and weepy, much like our reader is. this drabble is also loosely based in False God, because the dynamic seemed to fit them. anyway i will stop rambling enjoyyy x

➽ words: 600 words

➽ warnings: it goes without saying, but all of these works (kinktober-related) are smut and therefore minors should NOT interact with them. other warnings include: slightly mean!jake, dacryphilia, pet names (doll, kid), p in v

➽ taglist (x) ➽ kinktober masterlist (x)

“Daddy…” the half mewl, half-whine you let out wasn’t lost on Jake, who, whilst couldn’t quite see your face, immediately perked at the name that will never cease to send blood shooting straight to his cock. He didn’t know how there was any blood left in his body, his erection so hard it was painful, twitching and throbbing, begging for your tight little cunt to wrap around him, to milk him 'til the last drop, 'til his seed was forever imprinted on your walls. But now wasn’t the time - patience is a virtue, one Jake has had to learn in time, in his 43 years on Earth and maybe even more so here, on Pandora. You weren’t ready. You were so small - too small -, a tiny, ineffectual human who somehow managed to pull him away from the life he’s built, with your beauty and your brains, with your inquisitive mind and your warm, inviting heart. You needed an orgasm, or three, to get your pretty pussy ready for him, for him to breed you like he envisioned and give into his worst, most delirious fantasies.

So here you were, after your third orgasm, still pouncing vigorously on his leg, that was glistening even in the dim light peering through the curtains, the sound of your moans, mingled perfectly with the slapping of skin on skin, enough to drive him into a frenzy.

“What’s wrong, doll? Tell daddy what’s on your mind.”

The hands rested forcefully on either one of your hips, pressing your swollen folds to his lustrous, muscular, tensed thigh released their deathly grip on you, settling instead for a comforting caress of your abdomen, drawing circles into the plush of your skin.

“You’re being mean.”

Your sniffles spurred him on, cock dripping in pre-cum and spilling down his balls, and he found himself reaching for your armpits, twirling you around like one of those Barbies that you had hanging on your bookshelf, a keepsake of a life you’ll never have. You winced softly as you were placed back down on his lower abdomen, finding steadiness on his abs, marvelling once more, as you always found yourself doing, at his body that felt carved by Eywa herself, at his bulging muscles, at the way he was able to make your body scream and writhe in the fine line between pleasure and pain until you were a weeping mess, much like right now.

His thumbs were gentle as they wiped the tears from your face, but there was a smugness to him, a mischievous glint haunting his beautiful irises.

“Went a little too far now, did I, kid? D’you need to get fucked dumb on daddy’s cock now?”

You moaned in between pitiful nods, cunt desperate to be filled to the brim with him, the emptiness too overwhelming to be denied anymore. As he raised you once more, your heart fluttered, excitement coursing through your veins as he aligned his cock to your needy entrance. The tip was all you needed to feel stretched beyond belief already, and your head fell backwards, eyes shut in the desire that pushed to the side the pain when the reward was all you’ve ever wanted.

“That’s right - fu-uck! There you go, princess. Let daddy make it up to you, huh?"

You could think about the consequences of your actions tomorrow, but right now, all you can think about is him, and the next 3 orgasms he’d coax out of you before you’d inevitably pass out of exhaustion, cock drunk and satisfied, as always.

taglist: taglist: @pandoraslxna @sulieykte @blue-slxt @eywaeveng @neteyamsikran @elenamoncada-ibarra @spicymayyo @itsjazzsworld @daddysmurfslefttoenail @eyrina-avatar @iameatingmyhair @neteyamyawne @eyweveng @tiredwitch1113

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insult-2-injury · 6 months

Text

To Crush a Foe

Tartaglia x f!reader NSFW 6K

Wrote this months ago for @chickenparm and her hydro husband 💦

AO3 Link (fluff, pining, fingering, p in v, dirty talk, friends to lovers, reader is traveler)

~ ~ ~ ~

Surreal. That was the word you decided on; that strange fusion of emotion that went along with the final crushing of a former foe. Not in the crossing of swords, this time, no, but in the acceptance of a simple invitation.

Gods, if someone had told you one year ago you’d be sitting here eating supper with Childe’s family, you would have had yourself a good laugh right in their face.

“How did you fare on the ship ride over, dear?”

“Hm?”

His mother smiled. The charming ease of it was uncannily reminiscent of your red-haired travel companion beside you, who only smirked at your quiet, nervous reverie. If you sat anywhere else, outside the comforts of Childe’s kitchen maybe, you’d smack him upside the head in an instant for that.

You’d avoid such confrontation here.

“It was great!” You felt your face heat at the over-enthusiastic crack in your voice. Why were you so nervous suddenly? You had nothing to prove here. “Truthfully, I stayed inside the cabin most of the trip. Here I thought Dragonspine was cold.”

“Well I’m certain you’ll adapt just fine,” his mother said. “From what we’ve heard, you’re quite the adventurer. Our Ajax is lucky to have you.”

You blinked. You weren’t stupid. You knew what it looked like: the implication of him bringing you here. You could only hope that Childe had set the record straight: that you were just two people who had put aside a lifetime of differences in order to tolerate the other. Friends, you’d almost call it. Comrades, he would say in that unerringly cheerful voice of his.

You nearly jumped when Childe’s palm reached to wrap the top of your leg beneath the table, squeezing slightly.

“Forgive her for the spaciness, mother, she’s not used to the company of humans.”

You whipped your head over to him with an incredulous frown, dislodging his too familiar touch by crossing your legs. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“Relax. I only mean she has an… interesting array of travel companions.” You narrowed your eyes at the impish grin crawling across his lips, both of you knowing full well he’d be calling Paimon a floating flour bag if his mother weren’t sitting right there.

“Oh what, like you’re just some ordinary guy?”

He chuckled. “Far from it!” The table creaked as he leaned forward on his elbows, addressing his siblings.

“I kid, of course. It’s just as I said in my letters home. The traveler here has embarked on adventures all across Teyvat, each more impressive than the last. It’s a wonder she doesn’t have a big head.” He gestured with his fork toward Tonia, Teucer, and Anthon, who sat like grinning ducks in a row. “You know… you’d be wise not to mess with her.”

The back of your neck prickled and you reached up to scratch at the heat. The center of attention was never a spot you particularly enjoyed.

“I’m not so scary.”

“See,” Childe said, leaning forward conspiratorially, “this one’s as tricky as they come. Don’t let her fool you, she’s a force. May have even knocked the wind out of me once or twice.”

You’d done more than that. You shook your head, something tender and nervous fluttering in your chest at the flattery.

“Enough talk about me,” you said, waving him off and addressing the kids. “Tell me about your adventures.”

And as they did, you became lost in thought.

Why had you accepted his invitation again?

Oh yeah, because he’d been relentless about it. Sending you letter after letter to come visit his family, along with pictures. Pictures of the gifts he’d sent over for his younger siblings' birthdays, the extravagant meals he’d eaten on his latest adventures. So many letters and pictures that it became something of suspicion to your other traveling companions.

And you were hopelessly intrigued, warmed by the trust he put in you, each battle making it progressively harder to find a way to dig into that diminishing well of rancor in your chest that had existed so strongly only a year prior.

But you’d pushed that flicker of affection aside and you’d told him to cut it out, that sending you messages across Teyvat was nothing short of reckless, but he’d matched your fervor with a cheeky smile.

“What, a guy can’t send a letter to a friend?” he’d said before unleashing a torrent of hydro upon you.

And he had worn you down– so much so that one day you’d just… accepted. Plain and simple; sent a single word answer back: Fine.

Gods, you wanted to fight him. You wanted that hand on your thigh again.

“Did Ajax get you properly packed, then?”

“Hm?”

She smiled and repeated herself.

“Oh. Sort of. He sent a checklist and I did the rest. I did get an – unnecessary – talking to about my wardrobe selection on the way here, though.”

Childe smirked. “All she packed were pretty little sundresses-”

“He’s lying.”

His booted feet crossed at the ankles as he balanced back in his chair, chin tilted down so he could properly examine you.

“I did give you a bit of a hard time, didn’t I, traveler? You weren’t too happy with me at all.” He reached over and playfully flicked a loose piece of hair that had been covering the full extent of your side glare. He laughed and turned to his mother. “You should’ve seen the way she was huddled up in the cabin, it was quite the entertainment. Folded herself up like the cutest little block of ice.”

Your heart skipped a beat, face heating, but he seemed all too casual. Cute? Who was he calling cute? You vowed to serve his head on a platter at the next family meal.

“It’s much colder at sea,” you muttered.

“You wouldn’t believe it now, mother, but there was a time she’d have had my head for teasing her like this.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t rule that out just yet.” Your eyes darted across the table to meet his mother’s twinkling gaze. You felt the uneasy furrow in your brow immediately begin to smooth and softly, you smiled back at her.

Childe re-crossed his arms cheerfully. “Luckily we’re on better terms now, aren’t we traveler?”

“Not for much longer.”

His family laughed. Unable to meet his gaze, you dropped your eyes to your plate, clanking your silverware around, feeling like a nervous child.

The rest of supper was uneventful, all things considered. You told them of your adventures; the choleric skies of Inazuma, the rolling hills of Sumeru, embellishing a bit only for the benefit of the younger Teucer, who sat on his hands, looking between Childe and you with a shining devotion.

The boy, then, with the enthusiasm of a dog with a bone, launched into the story of that day at the “toy factory”, when you’d seen the first glimpses of the shadows Childe hid inside. It both pleased and saddened you to know that the boy held the memory so close to his heart.

So shockingly in tune you were with the outward flow of Childe’s energy that it was impossible to ignore the near imperceptible shift in his demeanor. You peeked at him. Childhood had to end somewhere, of course, but knowing what you did about Childe, the last breath of innocence had come for him much too soon. Which made Teucer’s fearlessness all the more troubling to him.

“I worry.” Childe had written to you once in a letter. “I was never so bold as him. Not then at least.”

Those shadows of himself, they weren’t so easily hidden from you now.

Childe’s fingers tapped lightly upon his thigh and like a rubber band pulled taut, your hand snapped toward him with zero destination, your heart solely aching with the sudden need to comfort. He stilled, gaze dropping surprised on your fingers fluttering uncertainly upon the bare skin of his forearm.

Embarrassed, you moved to pull away, but quick as a flash, his hand snatched you back, warm, gloveless fingers capturing yours, threading them through and tightening.

Teucer kept talking, everyone clueless but perhaps his attentive mother to the pyro burst that had just singed through your every waking nerve, something a lot like terror running rampant through your veins. Your skin felt too hot at the simple touch, stomach too tight.

You jumped when Childe chuckled at Teucer’s exuberance. His hand idly squeezed yours, thumb rubbing idle circles into the skin between your thumb and index finger. When his head quirked to the side and found you quietly studying him, the corner of his lips began to curl into the makings of a soft smile.

You looked away, swallowing around the tightness in your throat.

He liked to be near people; liked to hug and touch arms and ruffle hair. But this was a gesture that implied the two of you spoke often through touch.

Well, you suppose that wasn’t entirely untrue.

You fought often, after all, and battle was an intimate affair; breaths intermingling, swords locking as you met in the middle again and again. Insults would fly, sweat would mix, your own gasps of exertion displacing that damp lock of ginger hair that always plastered to the center of his forehead when you’d been at it for awhile. The mere thought of it now had heat pooling like liquid gold in your belly.

You yanked away from the intimate grip and flew up from your seat to start helping his mother at the sink. With a yawning stretch, Childe stood and started clearing the rest of the dishes and your heart squeezed at the sight of this domestic side of him.

Teucer’s arms wrapped your legs from behind. “I’m so glad you’re dating my brother.”

The laugh on your lips turned into a choke as your brain short-circuited, thoughts turning to mush as your eyes widened on Childe, who’d frozen mid-step, a stack of dishes fitted into the crook of his elbow. You could almost see the cogs turn in his mind as mischief flared in his eyes like a lit match, terribly devilish when coupled with the slight upturn of his lips. He cocked his head at you as if to say “well?” a tuft of autumn hair falling across his eyes.

Gently, you detached yourself from the boy. “We’re- we’re not uh…”

Teucer’s brows furrowed, shoulders falling in disappointment.

“You’re not? But…” He looked to his older brother.

There was something so sad in the boy's voice that you hesitated and the silence grew incriminating, thicker and thicker until his mother stepped in.

“Teucer, sweetie-”

“We are,” you blurted, voice pitching unnaturally. “Yeah, uh. We are.”

“I knew it!”

Teucer beamed up at you and then let out a loud whoop, running away with his arms raised high.

You blinked. Oh Archons, you’d said it. You’d just said yes. You’d lied, sealed yourself off to a fate of the worst kind of humiliation at the hands of your former foe. You didn’t think it was possible for your cheeks to get any hotter.

Childe regarded you from beneath his brows and you quickly looked away from his terribly unreadable expression.

He turned to his mother abruptly. “So how are the fish biting this season?”

Oh, you were going to kill him.

The rest of the night was a blur. You didn’t address Childe and he disappeared anyway, making himself busy putting the kids to bed as you helped clean up and chatted with his mother, who blessedly didn’t mention your gaffe.

You hardly remembered what half-baked excuse you’d murmured in order to excuse yourself. You thanked her for dinner, bundled up quietly, and headed out into the bone-chilling cold, the bitterness a balm for your frayed nerves.

You approached the tiny guest house.

Gods, what spun out lie would you have to come up with to get out of this one? You considered slipping away into the night as you turned the key in the lock.

The room was pitch black and you fumbled for a good few seconds for the light before cursing, finally conjuring up a crackling ball of electricity in your palm.

“Hey, girlie.” You yelped and crashed back against the door right as light blossomed across the one room house. “Took you long enough.”

Childe was eyeing you lazily from his laid back position on your bed, looking wholly bored. Like you’d kept him waiting for hours. His hands were laced over his sternum, fingers tapping an unheard rhythm.

“What is wrong with you?” you hissed. “What is your insistence on always slinking about like some creepy old ghoul?”

“A ghoul?”

“You almost scared me to death!”

“Oh,” he said casually, propping himself up on his elbows. “Well it would be awfully depressing if after all this time I lost you to a bit of fright.”

You set your jaw and marched over to light the small fireplace, shrugging out of your coat, anxiety surging forth to take the place of the adrenaline ebbing out of your system, your hands shaking slightly as you stoked the fire. The image of him propped up on your bedspread was a tantalizing one. His gaze prickled at the back of your neck.

“Freezing in here,” you muttered. A chuckled response at your nervousness had you spinning around to pin him with a lethal glare, the fire behind you swelling at your call. Your hand instinctively went to grab the hilt of your sword, only to remember it lay packed away in your bag. So your arm whipped out to point at him accusingly.

“What are you even doing in here? Get out!”

“There she is,” Childe said, his voice almost reverent as his eyes flicked across you. “Stay right there, traveler. Perfect. You know, you’re quite the pretty picture like that.” A small thrill shuddered through you at the flicker of dark excitement in his eyes, there and then gone. His palms raised in mock surrender when your nose scrunched, fists balling angrily at your sides. “Hey, no need for theatrics. You’re my guest, after all. What kind of host would I be if I didn’t make sure you made it home safe?”

Your focus flickered briefly to the wide spread of his long legs.

“On my twenty foot journey over here?”

His head fell against his hunched shoulder with a teasing grin. “Who knows what sort of ghouls lurk around the forests of Snezhnaya?”

“I mean, I’d hope you would.”

Childe shrugged. “I do,” he admitted. “I just couldn’t let my best girl leave without so much as a goodnight.”

A shocking brightness blossomed in your chest and you set your jaw against it.

“Okay. If this is about what I said earlier… it was a slip of the tongue and I’m embarrassed enough as is so-”

“C’mere.”

“No.”

His mouth tilted into a fond smile. “Please?” He pushed himself to sit fully upright, leaning forward, elbows coming to prop atop his knees. You squinted as if he’d grown a second head. “Come on. I have something for you.”

��Last time you said something to that effect, I was nearly crushed by a whale.”

“It’s nothing like that. Swear on it.” He placed an earnest hand over his heart. “Besides, this shack is far too small, not much merit in taking us both out, don’t you think?”

“You’ve done crazier things.” You drew on your dwindling anger. “Like calling me cute.”

“You are cute,” he said. “Especially when you get all spitty with me like this. Now come here. Please. Don’t make me beg.”

You swallowed, fingers twitching at your sides, a sudden desire thrumming a needy tune between your legs. Bracing yourself, you stiffly closed more space between the two of you, still stopping several feet away.

He hummed disapprovingly. “Closer. Come on. You scared or something?”

“I’m plenty close. And if you hand me a stupid beetle or something, I’ll kill you.”

His hand flew out to grab a fistful of your shirt and yank you forward with a squeal. “Childe!” you shouted, catching yourself against his shoulders.

“There we go,” he said softly, your faces only inches apart. “Not so bad like this, is it?” He reached behind him. You relinquished your hold on his shoulders but his knees tightened around your thighs to keep you moving away. And for the first time, your instinct was to stay.

“Here,” he said, pleased. “Tonia told me to give this to you.” A single flower was in his hand, a beautiful coral red star with giant, shimmering petals.

You struggled to find words in the following silence. “Oh…”

“Do you like it?” The dark stem of a dendrobium spun between his agile fingers as he stared at it in thought. “I suppose you’d already know it’s a rare thing to come across one. There’s a legend in Inazuma that says dendrobiums can only grow in the wake of spilt blood. The bloodier the soil, the prettier and bigger the petals. Someone smart as you could probably puzzle out why I’m drawn to such things.”

Your nervous swallow was excruciatingly loud. “How would Tonia have-”

“Traveler…” he scolded quietly. Your breath cut embarrassingly short when his teasing gaze rose to meet yours. “You know how it hurts my heart when you don’t listen. I never said Tonia picked it herself. Just that she advised me to give it to you. After all, it was you that came to mind when I spotted it poking out so colorfully from between the rocks. Do you mind?”

His hand rose and he waited before taking your frozen, doe-eyed gaze as permission to sweep his fingers ghostlike up your cheek to push a fallen strand of hair behind your ear, sliding the flower into your hair.

The significance of his words hit you with the force of a raging Sumpter beast. He’d picked a flower for you. Such a simple gesture, yet your heart slammed in your chest.

Was this all some ploy? Your throat tightened further when you found no such evidence, bottom lip warbling slightly.

“Thanks,” you said carefully.

Slowly, studying you closely for any signs you meant to pull away, Childe curled his index fingers into your belt loops. His lips quirked when you allowed him to tug you further into him, until you were nestled fully within the heated framework of his thighs.

“What you said earlier at dinner,” he murmured. “You made me wait a long time to hear you admit that.”

“Admit what exactly?”

“That we’re something special, you and I.”

Childe latched onto your wrist, massaging gentle circles into your knuckles. When you wobbled on your feet, he twisted your palm upward to press a lingering kiss to the center of it and you shuddered, lips parting slightly. A pleased, catlike smile toyed at the corner of his mouth.

“Are we together, traveler, like you said?”

With one hand, you gripped the base of his chin between forefinger and thumb, the latter sweeping upward to explore the outline of his lips before tracing slowly up the curve of his jawline in thought. He hummed at your touch, the sound low and drawn out, sending a shock of heat between your legs. Your face burned and you opened your mouth. Shut it. Opened it again.

“I didn’t mean to say that earlier-”

In one swift movement, Childe’s grip had tightened on your wrist and he’d yanked you toward him, using the momentum to whirl you onto the middle of the bed with a cry of surprise. Intent on giving him an angry earful, you shoved yourself up, propped on your palms. But the words swelled and stuck in your throat at the roguish gleam in his eyes, the bed dipping as he crawled toward you.

Without any thought, your legs fell apart to allow him through.

“I’m going to have to disagree with you,” he said, advancing still, forcing you to retreat backward, flatten yourself until all you knew was his pretty face hovering above yours, his weight settling between your legs. “You never say things you don’t mean.”

Your heart clattered, chest rising with shallow breaths that drew his gaze downward.

“Maybe. But sometimes I do say things before I’ve thought them all the way through.”

“Mm, you’re not so wrong about that.” He lowered onto his elbows until the tip of his nose nearly brushed yours.

“I guess I just didn’t think before I said it,” you stammered. “Your brother seemed so confident and I didn’t…” You squeezed your eyes shut. “I didn’t know if you wanted that.”

Your skin burned white hot at the admission. Did he know just how vulnerable you were allowing yourself to be right now? The terror that lit through your chest when you thought about him not feeling the same way?

Childe grinned. “It’s a shame you’re blind as well as loose-tongued. Well, it would be pretty awkward to take it back now, yes? So I guess you’re stuck with me in the meantime.”

You laughed, the ball of tension easing in your chest.

“I think your family likes me alright,” you said quietly and he laughed at the change of subject.

“They do. A little too much, I’m afraid. We’ll have to make sure Teucer doesn’t smuggle himself along in your bags.”

You looked up at him, a long felt but never before addressed emotion swelling almost painfully in your chest. “You’re rare, you know,” you blurted. “I’ve never- I’ve never met anyone like you.”

Childe’s eyes softened. “I can hardly believe you’re real sometimes.”

Foregoing further words, you spread your legs all the way, inviting him to nestle more fully into the crux of your thighs. His breath stuttered across your lips at the hard press of his erection against your front. You bit your bottom lip, holding in a smirk. “I’m plenty real when I beat you in every fight–”

Matching your energy immediately, two large hands cupped your face, thumbs bracing beneath your chin to gently lever your mouth shut. “Shhh,” he murmured, slowly bending down to press a kiss to each corner of your mouth. “We can get to the bottom of that another time. But for now just… behave.”

A tiny whine from you was all it took for him to finally press his lips against yours.

The room dimmed and sharpened all at once. The muscles on his arms and back turned boneless beneath your fingers as he sighed into your mouth, as if your lips working back against his were a long-awaited antidote. It was slow, sweet. His thumbs traced gentle half moons under your eyes and his tongue dipped in tentatively before he grew bolder, gaining ground when you parted your lips in response to a well-timed drag of his hips.

A hand smoothed down your hair, coming to cradle the back of your head, pulling you in like he could inhale you completely, until it was bruising and raw and exhilarating; a different kind of battle entirely.

Your fingers worked clumsily at the buttons of his shirt from the top down, ghosting over the raised skin of old scars as you went. His breath hitched beneath your touch, the skin of his abdomen tightening and jumping as you teased beneath the hem of his pants before working unsuccessfully at his belt buckle.

“Stupid Sneznhayan bullshit…” you hissed against his mouth.

The hand in your hair tightened and you let out a humiliating noise, abandoning his belt and finding purchase in his shirt, using it to lever your hips up into his. Grinding to relieve some of the ache pulsing between your thighs. An amused laugh puffed against your cheek at your frustration and his head dropped to murmur against your ear.

“I do love your determination. It’s one of my favorite things about you. But it would be a shame to rush through this first part, don’t you think?”

His hand cupped the opposite side of your face so he could plant a firm, lingering kiss to your temple while the other now ran up and down your side.

“Be patient with me?”

“Sure thing,” you said hoarsely right before his thumb found and circled the pert bud of your nipple through your shirt. You shuddered violently against him, legs wrapping his hips mindlessly, yanking him in. “Actually no. No, no, no.”

Childe laughed but the noise was tattered around the edges.

“Always figured you’d be greedy in bed.”

“Archons, y-you’re so annoying sometimes.”

He nipped your bottom lip, sharp and punishing, drawing back to look at your disoriented expression.

“I want you to do something for me,” he said, raising his shoulder further so he could wedge the wandering hand in between you.

“Wha-?” you squeaked, hips dipping into the bed to assist.

“Will you tell me about the day we met?”

The request was unexpected. Kind of wholesome if it weren’t paired with the slide of his palm between your thighs, cupping gently along the curve of your pussy through the fabric of your pants. Oh gods. You shuddered, eyes fluttering shut. It felt so deliriously good, just being held by him like this. With the heat of his palm unmoving and his bare skin just two layers away from yours.

“You don’t remember?” you croaked. He drew just his middle finger firmly up the seam and back down, catching your clit, your spine arching upward like you’d been hit by an electro burst.

“Of course I remember,” he said, brows furrowing at you as if the question was offensive. “But we’ve all got our versions to tell. Let me hear yours.”

“I was–”

You paused nervously as Childe’s lazy grin turned almost smug. He worked with only one hand at your belt, his eyes attentively on yours as he showed you up, unclasping and tugging until the two ends separated. He undid the button beneath with a deft thumb and forefinger. Without being asked, your hips raised, wriggling as he sat back on his heels to slowly tug your pants and underwear off.

You thanked your past self for lighting the fireplace as the open air hit the glistening wetness of your spread cunt. Childe’s gaze roved unabashedly, his fingers at his own waist now, undoing the clasp of his belt but going no further. His eyes flicked back up to yours with a devout intensity before he shrugged out of his shirt.

“Go on, traveler. You were saying?”

Emboldened by the bulge pressing hard and insistent at the front of his pants, you pushed yourself up to your knees, scooching forward until your thighs bracketed his own, gifting him with the sight of the spread of you. His tongue darted out to lick his bottom lip as he glanced down. No longer in a rush, you trailed your hands across his chest. Explored the soft planes of his abdomen, running along curves of smooth, defined muscle. Rising to thumb over his nipples, testing him, studying his reactions. Seeing what he liked.

“I uh–” you cleared your throat “-was running from the Millelith.”

“Interesting but I already know that. Tell me what you were feeling,” he said, tossing your shirt carelessly over the side of the bed, moving on to your bra. “Hmm, better yet, tell me how relieved you were to see me.”

“Ah ok. So you need your ego stroked.”

“For starters.” His lips curled suggestively. Previously dragging light patterns across his skin, your nails clawed in hard and you were rewarded with the slight drop of his jaw and the low rumble of an appreciative groan.

Being completely exposed before Childe was nothing like you’d imagined. There was no self-consciousness, no reservations at all as his hands explored and cupped. Because you already knew each other, you realized, had already done this intimate dance; each dip, each curve memorized and stored from all those battles at the Golden House. The only thing left was to see.

“I think I was too full of adrenaline to be nervous,” you began. “But I guess I was backed into a bit of a corner when you found me.” You leaned forward with a small smile, palm cupping between his legs in the same tormenting fashion his had, sliding along the outline of his cock. Childe’s hips jerked. A soft moan tickled the hairs at the crown of your head, his chin coming to rest briefly atop as if looking at the motion of your fingers would be far too much.

“I was relieved to see you, sure,” you continued, thumb teasing at the ridge. “Could’ve handled it on my own, though.”

You felt his throat rumble out a warm laugh as you worked his pants open. “You could have, I’m sure.”

“I think I liked you right away,” you continued. “Before anything I admired your prowess. But I suppose I found you… cute,” you said, recycling the same word he’d used to describe you. You pulled him out before he could say anything cheeky in response. Wrapped him with your warm palm and gave an experimental stroke, grinning when he went completely stiff, a hushed curse following.

“Did you ever think about me like this?” The words spilled from Childe’s lips and he pulled back to look down at you, breathless, jaw working as he relished your slow strokes for a moment. “Back before you knew who I really was?”

“Yeah,” you answered honestly. You waited for the pang of resentment that used to come at the thought of his previous betrayal. But there was nothing, the idea so far removed from who the both of you were now that there was no harm in expounding. “Even after I knew, too. I… touched myself a lot. The thoughts were just angrier.”

“Yeah. Yeah I bet.”

Some strangled noise that seemed like it had been stuck at the back of his throat was released when your thumb swiped over his leaking tip. Cupping your face with a sudden urgency, he yanked you into a fierce kiss. But he pulled back as soon as it started, smile lazy and pleased at your dazed expression.

“My turn, yeah?” Childe’s head cocked. “I saw you first at the gates of Liyue when you arrived. I had to see the golden hero of Mondstadt with my own eyes, after all. And what a sight you were,” he purred. The fast, downward trajectory of his hand had you pulling in a breath and holding it in anticipation. “So pretty in that little dress. I thought about taking you for all you were worth right then and there. I think you would’ve come around to it. Am I right, traveler? If I’d have approached you then, would you have let me do this to you?”

You expected him to tease, hold out on you, so when his middle finger slid directly through your folds to dip lightly into the mess of your center, you nearly combusted, letting out a hoarse cry. Tried to pull away but his other hand curved the back of your neck, tugging you into his shoulder.

Childe turned to lay a gentle kiss on your cheek, fluttering his finger at your entrance just lightly enough to make a vulgar, wet noise.

“Well? Would you have?”

You shuddered. Nodded mindlessly and he purred in satisfaction at the easy give of two fingers, sliding into your cunt to the knuckle, hooking and hitting a spot inside you that had starlight bursting behind your eyelids. But still you fought through, pumping him, the movements jerky and pathetic now.

“But it was the day we really met, traveler. That day at the Golden House when I saw you for what you really were. That wild look in your eyes when you wanted to kill me so badly. I’ll never forget it. That’s when I knew for certain that no matter the outcome, I had to have you.”

“Childe–” you whined, hardly remembering to stroke him still.

“It’s okay,” he said softly, “just hold onto me.”

And so you did, wrapping your arms around his neck and letting him pump his fingers into you, slow and torturous until you burned white hot and senseless. Hardly aware even of your back delicately pressing into the mattress again, the new position allowing him more depth, each curl accompanied by a tiny whimper. You felt the quiet flutter of climax already brushing like a flurry of feathers across your skin. It was like nothing you’d experienced, being tucked into Childe’s neck like this, one of his hands still caressing your hair so sweetly while the other stretched you open.

“That’s it, sweet girl,” his faraway voice murmured, coaxing you to relax beneath him but you couldn’t while his lips brushed your cheek. While his fingers pumped, while the smell of him filled your senses.

You loved him. You loved him.

Everything swelled at once; emotion and that twisting pleasure in your belly rising sharply until your body went rigid, nails digging helplessly into his shoulders as you grasped for a tether to reality. A torn keen loosened from the depths of your chest as he worked you through with murmured, rhythmic praises. You spasmed against him, clinging like the illusion of him could disappear at any moment, leaving you nothing but a shuddering mess. You fell back onto the bed panting.

A press against the corner of your mouth and your eyes fluttered open. The sensitive slide of his fingers out of your pussy had your lips parting just enough that he could slide his tongue softly through. You lay there motionless for a time, blinking the pleasure from your eyes, Childe just massaging his tongue against yours, eyes closed, dipping in and out of you slowly.

His cock laid heavy and hot on your hip, leaking hot precum across your skin. Groaning, you finally reciprocated his kiss, your fervor met with a long purr of contentment from above. Your nails dug grooves into his bare hips, dragging him against you, imploring him without words.

Childe inhaled a sharp breath and pulled back to look at your face, eyes glazed slightly.

“You alright?” was all he said, voice in such shreds it had you laughing, cupping his face in your hands.

“Yeah, you idiot.”

The side of his nose brushed yours, a wry grin curling his lips. “Kind of impolite for a girl who was just cumming all over my fingers.” He pressed a single, firm kiss against your mouth before reaching between you to position his cock, wetting it with a drag through your slit before pressing in just slightly.

Childe’s blue eyes flickered between yours.

“I love you, too, by the way.”

Your eyes widened but any further reaction on your part was taken up by the delicious, burning stretch as he slowly pushed into you with a drawn out groan, not stopping until he’d bottomed out inside you, the only sound punctuating the room for several seconds the sound of steadying breaths.

You could already feel yourself making room for him, fitting yourself around him.

“Keep moving or I’ll die.”

His laugh was strained and he seemed oddly hesitant still, like he wasn’t quite ready to stop looking at you. You smiled softly and he let out a content sigh, his head falling to your shoulder. His cock inched out of you, pushing back in at the same dragging pace. And he began to fuck you deep, rocking into you slow.

“You’re perfect,” he murmured into your ear.

He loved you. Childe loved you.

Everything was perfect. He was perfect. The way he sucked gentle bruises into your skin. The way his hips rolled so steadily and how he was ruining you slow, hitting all the right spots inside you that had you gasping for breath, softly whimpering with each thrust.

You were warriors, yes. It was your baser instincts. But the pace that he set made clear that the quick step, fierce clashing of swords was momentarily being tossed aside in favor of slow hands. You panted as you took him again and again, your sweat mixing, brushing that damp lock of ginger hair to the side so you could fall into the blue of his eyes.

“I have another confession,” Childe murmured against your neck. “And I feel terrible about this one. So don’t bark at me.”

“Is now really the time for confession?”

Childe turned you over, his hands falling immediately to steady your hips, guide them into the same rolling tempo on top of him.

“Good as any, I think.”

He pinched the skin of your thigh when you didn’t respond, too blissed out and focused on the second rising tide swirling low in your belly.

“F-fine.”

“I told them myself that we were dating.”

“Wh-hat?” you choked out as his thumb found your clit, rolling in tight circles. He groaned at your hard clench around him. Archons, you were right on the precipice.

“I told my family in my letters,” he panted. “Told everyone I could that we were together a long time ago, traveler. That I’d found myself a pretty little adventurer in Liyue that I intended to make mine. Don’t you think that was presumptuous of me?”

“Ch-Childe–”

You didn’t know how to process the information, let alone respond. Your head spun, everything tightening inside, but terribly slow. With a plea on your lips, your hands flew up to play with your nipples, desperate for something to send you over that edge. You heard Childe curse under his breath quietly, hands digging into the flesh of your hip bones as he seemed to steady himself.

“Childe.”

“So really, I knew before you did,” he said, sounding like a fraying rope. “The whole world knew you were mine before you did. But I knew you’d come around. Knew it as surely as I know the Sneznhayan sky. Knew it as surely as I know you.”

Childe drew one arm around your back, the other up your spine until his hand found the back of your neck, pulling you forward to press his mouth to yours before his lips slid forward and found your ear.

“And I do know you.”

Suddenly, you were locked against him, his hips snapping into yours with a fervor. You gasped because there it was, that pounding friction that had you nearly sobbing into his neck, clawing at the bed as you were sped toward that edge and soared right over it.

The arms holding you so tightly left no space to roll and flex your body naturally through your release. It was a debilitating ecstasy, destructive and wet, all centered at one nexus point between your legs, so powerful it had you drenching his cock as he stuffed you again and again. Before you’d even remembered to breathe, Childe was swallowing your anguished whine, shifting your body upward so he could chase his own release.

“Say it again,” he gasped against your lips. “Please.”

Somehow, you knew. “Love you,” you breathed, completely dazed.

“Again, again, again.” He pounded into you desperately and you felt the telltale tightening of his abdomen, the beginning stutter of his hips.

You grabbed his face and poured every ounce of yourself into it. “I love you, Childe.”

A choked laugh turned into a groan as he slammed himself deep, emptying inside your still convulsing cunt, showering you with so many breathless praises that they all slur together like a desperate prayer. His face tipped back so beautifully, twisting in ecstasy before he went boneless, the only sound in the room your labored breathing.

You waited until your heartbeat slowed to shift atop him, rolling until you were tucked into his side instead. Your eyelids felt like a weighted blanket but you were too lost in thought to drift off now, fingers tracing lazy patterns into his skin.

Minutes and minutes passed. You fiddled with the flower in your hair.

“So everyone knew we were together except me?” you asked, more sheepish than intended, cheek moving against the hard planes of his bare abdomen so you could peer up at him. Childe burst into laughter and you found yourself pressing closer to absorb the sound.

“You really are blind. Every opportunity I had to show you my true feelings, I took. Even that floating bag of flour had her suspicions.” You smacked his chest hard but he continued with a chuckle. “Always looking over your shoulder like she could kill me on the spot. If she could see us now.”

With practiced quickness, you straddled his hips, palms propping on either side of his head. “That’s enough.”

Naturally, his fingers found your sides, dragging up and down, eyes full of a shining devotion.

“You’re beautiful.”

“You’re just saying that to get your cock touched again.”

Childe smiled dangerously. “Dirty words from such a pretty mouth. Careful, or we’ll end up making a battlefield of Sneznhaya yet.”

You grinned down at him for a long, giddy moment. “I could be tempted.”

#tartaglia #childe #childe genshin impact #tartaglia x reader #reader insert #genshin impact #genshin impact smut #childe x reader #f!reader #fanfic

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weirdgenetic-fuckup · 19 days

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No Nut November - Duff

A/n: These were meant to be all put into one but then I made Duff's really long, then I made Axl's even longer, now I'm working on Steven's but the other's will also be posted separately, either way I hope you enjoy :3

Also if anyone wants to request more for Duff... ;)

Warnings: Smut, no nut November, fingering (f receiving), I completely forget everything that happened since I wrote it so if I missed anything please let me know :3

Intro

Duff walked out of the studio once they were done for the day. He had completely forgotten about the bet until Axl yelled out to him from across the parking lot. “Don’t let Popcorn win, ya hear?!” Whether he was joking or not Duff couldn’t tell, he didn’t care all too much either.

Honestly, the bet didn’t mean much to him in the first place, he just thought it would be fun to watch everyone else deal with it. He never put too much thought into whether or not he’d win or not, frankly he didn’t care. All he wanted was to get home to his partner.

It was October 31st, his plan was to come home and celebrate Halloween with his love, explain what was happening and see where that went.

He walks through the door and is met with you, his girlfriend, wearing what could potentially be the most revealing costume he’s ever seen in his life.

You did a little spin as you frolicked over to him. “You like it?” You asked with a big grin.

“Like what, the two inches of fabric covering your whole body?” He asked, a smile on his face as he admired you, his hands quickly finding their way to your hips.

“What, you no like?” You asked, looking down at yourself. “I got it for the party tonight.” Duff paused, suddenly this hot costume was no longer fun and games.

“You plan on going out in that?” You looked back up to him. “Babe, that’s a fucking thong and some cat ears.” You smiled and turned around.

“There’s a tail, too.” Indeed there was. Duff pulled on the fluffy black thing dangling out of you. A buttplug. You got a buttplug for a costume.

Duff shook his head and pushed your further into your shared apartment. “No way in hell are you leaving in that.” You laughed and flopped over onto the couch. Duff came right over to lay over top of you. “You are staying here with me for one last perfect night.” His lips crashed against yours, you happily went along with it until what he said finally caught up with you.

You pushed him away from you and nearly fell off the couch. “Last night? What do you mean ‘last night’?” You asked, tone full of worry.

Duff thought about what he said for a moment. “Oh, God, no, that’s not- that’s not at all what I meant.” He blurted, pulling you close to him. He sat you in his lap and you shifted uncomfortably due to the toy stuffed inside you. “It’s just, the guys and I made this bet to see who could last the longest through November without cumming.” He explained, toying with your hair. You let out that breath you were holding in and curled into him.

“Jesus, you fucking scared me, Duffy.” You mumbled. The bassist chuckled softly and kissed your forehead. You kissed his jaw, he kissed your nose, then you both met in the middle and your lips collided, ending in a heated makeout session.

You had your night and that was supposed to be that for the month.

A week passed and Duff was seemed fine. He hadn’t had any wet dreams, no real neediness. He did ask you to cover up a little more, though he swears it was because it was chilly. You didn’t necessarily plan on following through on this whole ordeal with him, still you hadn’t made any attempt at anything with or without him.

The first weekend was fine, you had it off and had your fun lying around all day. Monday killed you. Everyone was being an ass, some kid even got on your nerves when he ran into you with an icecream in his hand, getting it all over your new pants.

That night you came home seething, wanting nothing more than to have Duff fuck you into next week but you couldn’t even ask that.

You got in the apartment and slammed the door shut behind you, more than annoyed with the day. Duff poked his head out of the kitchen and, upon seeing you so distraught, he rushed over to you. He wrapped his arms around you and picked you up. “What happened? Rough day?” He asked as he walked you over to the couch. You groaned loudly. “That bad, huh?” Once he sat down you fell over, lying over the couch and his lap, covering your face with your hands.

“Oh, fuck off, would you?” You grumbled. Your eyes shot open and you slowly moved your hands away from your face, peering up at Duff who glared back at you.

“What was that?” He asked, knowing there wouldn’t be a good answer.

“I-I’m just tired, I didn’t-”

“No, no,” he interrupted, “say it again, I didn’t hear you the first time.” Your lips pursed in a small pout as you stayed looking up at him. “What, you had a bad day and decided to be a brat?” You shook your head. “Thought that I couldn’t do anything about it for a whole month, hm?”

“No, I just-” Duff cut you off again, this time with a harsh slap to your thigh, causing you to yelp.

“Say. It. Again.” He repeated. You let out a small whimper. Duff shook his head. “Tsk, tsk... Sweetheart, it’s one thing to say something like that but it’s another to put on this act.” His voice was degrading, cold and mean. By God did it have your cunt blushing for him.

Duff knew he couldn’t fuck you, he’d lose the bet for sure. He didn’t plan on winning but he wasn’t thrilled with the idea of losing, either. To get around this he just fingered you.

He had you in his lap, naked. Your legs hooked for his to give him full access to you and he took full advantage of it, his long, thick fingers pushing deep inside of you. He went slow, making sure to drive you crazy by hitting every spot, then he’d speed up and the room would fill with lewd sounds and loud moans as you cried out for him. Right before you came he’d stop and return to an even slower pace.

You stopped warning him when you were close in hopes of cumming but he knew anyway. “Fuck, Duffy, please! Hah- ‘M so-sorry, please!” You whined, bucking your hips against him, searching for any amount of extra friction, just something to get you over the edge.

“You’re sorry, are you?” He was right by your ear, lips caressing the shell of it. “You’ll be good if I let you cum?” You nodded enthusiastically.

“Yes! Yes, yes, I-I promise, I’ll be good!” You were clenching around his experienced fingers in anticipation. Duff planted a few soft kisses along your neck as he continued his abuse on your hole, bringing you even closer to your release.

“Cum for me, baby, cum on daddy’s fingers.” He whispered in your ear. Your eyes rolled back, your head fell onto his shoulder and your back arched as you came hard around his fingers.

You two never usually even made it a week without some kind of intimacy, even when he was on the road you’d call. That, paired with how much he teased you had a familiar yet different feeling building in your gut.

Instead of simply waves of pleasure rocking through you a gush of liquid shot out. It took Duff a second to realise what was happening but when he did he was quick to change tactics and pulled his fingers out of you to play with your clit, wanting to see as much of you squirting as he could.

He let you finish and gave you an extra few minutes to come back down from that. “I didn’t know you could do that.” His voice was soft and sweet in your ear, a full 180 from the tone he had earlier.

You shrugged. “One of us had to this month.” You joked, your voice airy and tired.

“You thought I could see that and not cum?” You looked up at him with a brow raised. You twisted in his lap to see the giant stain forming in his shorts. “Your ass kept rubbing against me, I gave up halfway through, that was just the cherry on top.” He explained and pulled you to him, kissing your neck again. “You know,” he started, “now that there isn’t a bet to worry about...” He trailed off.

Your brows raised and a smile came onto your face. You stood up and slowly started walking to the bedroom. When you were only a few steps away you turned back to him. “Last one in bottoms.” You teased. Duff booked it to the bedroom.

#duff gnr #gnr #guns n roses #guns n roses x reader #guns n roses smut #guns n roses fanfic #duff mckagan #duff mckagan smut #duff mckagan gnr #duff mckagan x reader #duff mckagan fanfic

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leonardalphachurch · 5 months

Text

a fic i wrote at 5 am about being an alien parasite jesus allegory whose father doesn’t call enough. something we can all relate to.

(also on ao3 if you prefer to read there)

Your name is Junior.

When you get older, you’ll be told this isn’t really a name. They’ll give you real names. Real names with real meanings to them.

The Sangheili call you Jaen ‘Kelossai. A name that was destined for you. It’s meaning chosen by the gods themselves. The soul who lights the prophecy of the sword. It’s a rough translation.

The humans call you Lavernius Tucker Jr. It’s meaning doesn’t work the same way. Not a thief and a tormenter, nor a soft cloth in the spring. But instead it holds the weight of your father. A meaning just as heavy as one chosen by gods.

You just go by Junior.

You are the child of a failed prophecy. The savior of a dead religion. This makes a lot of people want you dead. You’re used to that, though. People have wanted you dead since you were born.

It makes a lot of other people want to use you. You’re used to that, too. You get paraded around for one political reason or another. One day you’ll learn what these all mean. One day you’ll make an amazing ambassador. Or so they tell you. Today you just want to outside and play.

You’re too alien, the humans say. You want to play with the other kids but you are larger than them. You have too many teeth. They’re just jealous, your father says. You don’t know if that’s true.

There are kids your size you can play with. But your father spends all the time he can with humans. And you do too.

You’re too human, the Sangheili say. They never should have let your father stay around. Never should have let him get his fingerprints on you. But they were in there from the beginning. Baked into your DNA.

And though the old gods may be dead, no one can deny that he is the sword bearer. It may just be an ancient relic. But ancient relics hold importance.

Many want to kill him for it. He doesn’t deserve something as important as that, they say. He’s human. Others respect him for it, but even they hold their breath for the day he dies. To scavenge it from his corpse.

That key was your birthright. You can use it, but it’s not yours. It holds no connection to you. It should have.

One day you’ll learn that you were supposed to kill him. To rip from his stomach and feast on his flesh. To take the key to your birthright by force.

You’re glad this didn’t happen. You don’t know if he knows. You hope he never finds out.

You’ve never met your other father. The one who’s genetic material makes up your own. He died before you were born. It makes you a little sad. But not very.

One day you’ll learn how he died. You’ll know what he did to make you. You’ll want to find his grave and spit on it. Today you hold your true father’s hand as you tell him about your schooling.

You need to go on a mission. You need to be paraded around again. It’s hot, but you have fun in the sand. They bring you home before your father; negotiations are getting more tense, and he needs to stay, and you need to leave. You need to be protected. Why doesn’t he need to be protected?

As you go, you tell him you love him. He laughs and ruffles your nonexistent hair.

You don’t hear from him for months. You ask why no one has gone to help him. No one tells you the answer.

You know the answer.

…

It’s almost a year before you hear from him. About him. He’s a fugitive now. You thought he was dead. From the way they speak, you wonder if that might have been better.

He’s stealing technology. Betraying the UNSC. Betraying the Sangheili. Betraying you. That’s what they tell you.

You don’t know if you feel betrayed.

You follow the news. Closely. Closer than any of the other kids your age. But you’re bigger than them. You have more teeth. And you wonder if you should even be with them. Your father was the one who wanted you to go to this school, wasn’t he?

News comes.

He’s not a fugitive anymore. He’s a war hero, now.

They tell you you should be proud.

You don’t know if you feel proud.

He contacts you. You feel his warmth. You missed him. He says he misses you. He tells you about his journeys. You tell him about your team. He tells you about his friends. You don’t tell him about your lack.

He’s going to come see you soon. You’re excited. You missed him.

You tell him you love him. He tells you he loves you, too.

He never comes.

…

It’s another year until you get news.

He’s a war hero again.

You thought he was dead.

You feel. Proud.

You’re supposed to feel proud, right?

You’re a great ambassador now, they tell you. You’ll tell him that, when he calls again.

You’ll wait for him to visit.

He’ll come, this time.

You’ll look at the key that was your birthright.

He’ll tell you he loves you.

You’ll think about tearing him apart with your teeth.

You’ll tell him you love him, too.

#rvb #chromatic writing #lavernius tucker #junior #junior tucker #rvb junior #red vs blue #me? projecting on alien children? never

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hauntedestheart · 8 months

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When I wake up in the morning, the first thing I do is I reach for my phone. I've seen a lot of articles say that doing this is supposed to be bad for you, you're supposed to limit your screen time and not use electronic devices in bed and blah blah blah... but whoever wrote those articles clearly wasn't living my life.

Hell, I barely know who's living my life.

See, the reason I check my phone in the morning is because checking it is the only way I'm gonna find out what I did last night. Take, for example, the photo I found on it this morning.

Oh god, I'm cringing just looking at it. I didn't take this photo! Yeah, sure, I'm a hot guy who goes to the gym, but I swear I'm not the kind of douchebag who would pose nude like this. Someone else took this photo, and they used my body to do it.

Scrolling through the apps on my phone, I begin to piece together the events of last night. According to some Lyft receipts, my body left the house a bit before midnight and headed across the bridge to uptown, and didn't head back home until around five in the morning.

My bank statement informs me that I stopped at a fancy store to buy a new jacket (which I find in the closet) and then I headed to a bar I'd never heard of where I bought several rounds of shots and a plate of mozzarella sticks. It's even logged in my calorie counter app.

On Instagram I've been tagged in a story by someone I've never met before, and when I click on it there's a short video clip of a man standing on a table in some bar shaking his perky ass around and- oh, yup, the guy is me. I tap to the next video and my body has lost its shirt, probably so everyone can see my abs flexing as I do body rolls, and then in the next clip I'm down to just my skivvies and a stranger's hand is grabbing my junk and shaking it around. Thankfully, that's the last video in the lineup- though there's an ache in my ass that hints that it wasn't where the night ended.

This might sound like the kind of fun, drunken bender that a guy my age might get up to, but that's not what's going on here! I don't know why, but for the past few months every time I've gone to sleep at night, my body has woken back up and gone back out. At first I thought I was just sleepwalking- mom said I did it all the time as a kid -but sleepwalkers don't do the things that my body does.

Sleepwalkers walk. My body hits the town.

I always wake up safe and sound in bed in the morning, which is a small blessing, but everything else is a complete mystery. I don't know what is doing it, or how they're doing it, but I'm pretty sure it's another person. They basically told me so.

A few weeks after it started I bought a night vision camera and set it up to monitor my bedroom, hoping to glean some sort of clue about what exactly was happening to me, but whoever was in my body just deleted the footage. When I woke up in the morning, the only thing I found on the camera was a very long video of my body shoving a dildo up my ass, moaning like a whore while the other hand explored the muscles of my torso... and at the end of it, when my body was finally drenched in semen, it looked straight into the camera and winked.

The me in the video had a cocky expression on his face that I'd never seen before and to be honest, that kinda freaked me out! In a fit of desperation, I decided to leave a note taped to my bedroom door.

What do you want? I wrote. And when I woke up in the morning, someone had written something underneath it:

; )

Which... I still don't know what to make of that. I think whoever is doing this thinks that they're funny. Since then, my body snatcher has gotten into the habit of leaving me little notes and photos like the one up there.

My body snatcher seems to really like my body, which- hey, I'm proud of it too! You don't work as hard as I do on my abs without being a little vain, and if I was gonna snatch someone's body I'd probably go for someone who was packing a dick like mine. I can't even say that I blame them. But the number of photos I've found on my phone of myself groping my pecs, flexing my big biceps for the camera, licking my own armpits... it's a bit too much.

And that's the absolute worst part of it! Whoever's doing it is getting cocky. Look at that photo- the camera set-up, the hand written note, the strategically placed paint... this isn't just some random selfie taken on the spot, this required setup. They're mocking me, letting me know that they've got me where they want me and there's nothing I can do about it.

The pictures have only been getting bolder and more scandalous- some of the more recent ones were taken in public places, and they're starting to involve props. I'm nervous about what they're going to come up with next- but I guess I won't know until I wake up.

#male possession #yes I'm still alive I'm just terrible at finishing things so I'm sitting on a bunch of drafts #but I like this confessional style format so I might toy with it more

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avocado-writing · 2 months

Text

notes: i did this instead of anything in my inbox. sorry but it overtook me and became much longer than I thought. also I wrote raphael as the little sub he is teehee.

relationships: raphael x reader; enver gortash & reader (platonic, parent & child); eventual enver gortash x tav

words: 4k

rating: E

summary: a warlock of Raphael's, you visit the House of Hope one day and find a child. he cannot remain there.

Your life, really, is fine. Maybe a bit empty. But fine.

You’ve had Raphael as your Warlock patron for a while now. It’s fine too, he’s fine, there are definitely worse devils to be indebted to - the fact he’s attractive isn’t so bad either. You started fucking a few years ago and he’s basically wrapped around your little finger at this point. He’s still annoying as all hells but he bottoms well enough and the two of you enjoy being on each other’s good side, so it works out. Mostly what he has you do is track down and kill people who’ve pissed him off - and a lot of people have pissed him off, he’s very piss off-able to be fair, so there’s always plenty of jobs and you come to the House of Hope often, in between the mercenary work you do to survive.

This time you just finished hunting down someone who tried to weasel out of their contract. Raphael had you bring him the man’s head as proof of your work, and then you made him give you head after. Par for the course nowadays.

You peel yourself out of Raphael’s embrace as he bathes in the afterglow of getting spoiled in bed by you. You throw on your pants, and go to grab a bite to eat. Your patron always has a feast ready. It’s something to keep his servants distracted with, the constant cooking and replacing of dishes, and it’s nice to never be hungry when you’re here. You saunter into the banquet room and go to pick up a fistful of grapes…

… pausing when you see something utterly fucking shocking.

A little boy. Making himself as small as possible, dark messy hair and darker sunken eyes, all curled up by the fire. He looks at you with terror and you yelp in surprise, grabbing a spare tablecloth to quickly cover yourself with.

“What the fuck?!” you manage, looking around for answers to the unasked question. Nobody is here to give you any. Fucking lost souls, never here when you need them. You turn back to the boy who looks utterly terrified. “Are you meant to be here?”

He visibly swallows, nervous, and nods. Okay, right, great. Kid in the middle of hell. Of course. You're about to find Raphael and give him a grilling, when you hear a little stomach rumble.

You freeze, raise an eyebrow. Almost impossibly he shrinks further into himself.

“Have you eaten, kiddo?”

He shakes his head, unable to meet your eyes. Oh, well, that won’t do.

You grab a plate and begin to load it up with food for him. He looks hopeful though he tries not to show it too much, as if you’ll punish him for the very idea of it. Gods it must have been torture for the child, sitting in front of a banquet with no invitation to gorge.

When the plate is so full that it threatens to spill over, you squat down and put it in front of him. The boy stares at it for a long moment before looking up at you.

“Go on. Dig in.”

It’s all the permission he needs. He tears into the food you’ve presented as if he’s never eaten before. As if it is ambrosia. You watch him wolf down chicken thighs so fast that he threatens to choke on them, and you feel your heart ache at the wretched sight.

“This really isn’t a place for kids. What’s your name, lad?” you ask, absent-mindedly swiping some greasy hair out of his eyes. You wonder when was the last time he washed, poor kid. He flinches at your touch a little but doesn’t stop eating, somewhat aware you’re probably the first person he’s met here who doesn’t mean him harm.

“Enver,” he says through mouthfuls of bread. You tell him your name in return, though you aren’t sure if he really listens.

“I didn’t say he could eat.”

Raphael’s voice cuts through the moment, severe, and the boy freezes mid-bite. Terror floods him. He begins to visibly shake.

Oh, no. No. You won’t be having that.

You speak aloud, voice firm.

“Well, I said he could. Ignore him, kiddo.”

You stand and put yourself between your patron and the child. This little boy has no idea who you are, but he can sense that you have some sort of power over the demon who’s walked into the room. Timidly he continues his meal. When you’re satisfied you turn to your devil, thunderous.

“Raphael? A word.”

Your tone leaves no wiggle room. He harrumphs and follows you far out of the boy’s earshot, where you unleash your fury.

“Why is there a fucking child here, Raphael?!” He rolls his eyes.

“Oh, his parents sold him to me. Well, to one of my other warlocks, actually, so through the upline he’s mine.”

He speaks as if reading from the paper, not discussing a child’s life. Your blood boils. You want to slap him, but he’d just enjoy it.

“This is no place for… well, fucking anyone, let alone a literal kid. What were you thinking?!”

He shrugs. For a devil meant to be full of cunning, Raphael rarely actually thinks through his short-term impulses into long-term plans.

“Torture him, I suppose.”

“Don’t you fucking think about it,” you say, hand instinctively summoning your blade. Raphael narrows his eyes.

“Be careful when you reach for your sword, warlock, lest you forget the person who gifted it to you.”

Fuck. Shit. What an arseache. Okay, you can’t go about this by violence, he’s right. You need to be cunning. You let yourself soften and approach him, laying your hands on his chest. He raises an eyebrow but allows you to caress him.

“Raphael, come on. You really want a child hanging around here? He’s going to ruin all our fun. I was going to have you on the banquet table later. You don’t want me to ride you while feeding you slices of apple? You enjoyed it last time…”

Your devil huffs but softens under your touch. Gods he really is easy to manipulate when you know which buttons to press.

“You’re really up in arms about him, aren’t you? Look, they gave him away for a reason. He’s not some sweet innocent. He’s a little bastard, as far as I’ve been told.”

“Please don’t do anything too harsh to him? For me? For your favourite warlock?” you ask, pouting, sliding down Raphael’s body to your knees, ready to nuzzle into his cock in exchange for his agreement.

He sags, weak for you. Got him.

“Ugh. Fine, you win, kitten. Spoilsport,” he mutters, and you slip him out of his underwear.

The next time you see Enver, it’s been a couple of weeks. You’ve just finished up a hunt and are reporting in - but he’s the first thing you check on. You find him sweeping one of the hallways, eyeing a wailing lost soul warily.

“Hey, kiddo. How are you doing?”

He jumps a little, however he looks genuinely pleased to see you. Not enough for him to smile but at least some of the tension leaves him.

“I’m alright,” he says quietly. He still looks sort of greasy. You’ll have to tell Raphael to let him bathe.

“The boss been treating you okay?”

Enver nods.

“Doesn’t really talk to me. Just tells me to do chores.”

Well that’s better than torture, you think. You reach into your pocket, root around for a bit, and hand something to him. His eyes go wide and then narrow in suspicion, and you have to reassure him that it’s not some sort of trick.

“Do you know what that is?”

“A sending stone,” he says, confidently, weighing the blue rock in his hand. You grin.

“Look at you! Clever kid. Yeah, that’s exactly what it is. So I take it you know how they work?”

“Each holder can send a message of twenty-five words a day, and the other can reply with twenty-five. Total of fifty each.”

“Precisely! I’m giving this to you for if there’s an emergency, okay? If you’re in trouble, I want you to give me a message and I’ll get here as quickly as I can.”

He eyes the stone. It’s as if he can’t quite bring himself to believe that someone genuinely cares about his wellbeing.

“Why?” he asks, after a while.

“Because you shouldn’t be down here, and Raphael can be an arsehole. But don’t worry, I can sort him out,” you say with a grin, and for the first time, Enver chuckles. You hear the sound of Raphael calling your name from down the corridor and you roll your eyes.

“Speak of the devil. Take care, Enver, alright? And remember, let me know if there’s a problem.”

He nods, tucking the stone into his pocket before you head off to tie your patron up.

You don’t hear from Enver for a week or so, but one day, when you’re on the road, you get a message coming through.

“Hello. It’s Enver. Are you having a good day?”

You look confused and reply, “Yeah, kiddo, I’m fine. Is there something the matter? Nobody’s hurting you, are they?”

Then, because it is the nature of the stone, you add: “If they are then you just say, I’ll come and set them straight.”

There’s a beat. You can imagine Enver considering his response.

“I’m fine. I just wanted to say hello.”

That’s as much communication as the day will allow but it hits you hard. Oh. He’s lonely.

And from that day on, you have a sort of penpal.

Enver messages you everyday without fail, always excited to see how you’ve been doing. He has very little to report, which you’re thankful for, because you live in fear that he will need to use the stone for its intended purpose. Occasionally he lets you know that Raphael has said something cruel or Haarlep is teasing him, and then it’s just a matter of heading to the hells and setting them straight. Haarlep is like a cat, difficult to make to do anything, but to be honest he’s your friend and will usually acquiesce after some teasing. Raphael is always a bit more difficult to persuade. He still sees the boy as his property, his thing to treat as he’d like, so you have to pull out all of your best tricks in order to convince him.

You always end up coming out on top, though. Funny that.

Your visits to the House of Hope get more regular. Enver greets you with smiles and then with laughs and then with hugs, and you find you’re growing fond of the kid. Every now and then you see a bit of the little bastard Raphael warned you of - you’ll catch him tormenting one of the damned souls down here, or attempting to trap and harass some sort of insect who accidentally crawled through one of the portals. But a soft but firm hand to turn him in the right direction is enough. He’s a boy with a bright future… if he’s nurtured.

And this place has no time for that.

You make the pitch to Raphael one night at the end of a long weekend in hell. You’ve been doing everything he’s asked of you, indulging his every whim, being ever so sweet and obedient for your master - and fucking him within an inch of his life. You relax in his bed, cuddled up to his chest, walking your fingers along the expanse of his pectorals.

“Raphael…” you say, dreamily, and he hums.

“Why do I get the feeling you’re about to push your luck?” he chuckles. You rearrange yourself to look up at him, eyes wide and wanting.

“Me? Push my luck? Never…” you run your tongue over his nipple and he groans.

“Spit it out then, kitten.”

“It’s the boy, Raphael. Can I have him? Please?”

He huffs.

“Why?”

“Why not? What does he do around here apart from take up space and eat your food? Surely you don’t really want him hanging around, do you? I’d like to be able to ride you and scream your name without the fear we’ll be overheard.”

Raphael considers this for a long time, and for a moment, you think he won’t take the bait.

“You’ll extend your pact with me. I want your soul. Forever,” he decides.

Ah. That’s quite the price. You consider it for a moment.

“...You never get to interfere with Enver’s life again,” you reply, because this is how you deal with devils. Your bargain to gain their respect. He laughs.

“Fine. The boy is off the hook.”

“Done. And I get to take him out of here and do what I want with him, no questions asked. He’s free. And I’ll do that thing you like, right now.”

His eyes sparkle.

“Deal.”

The next morning, body aching, you read through your new contract. You make some amendments in blood but sign it. The rest of your existence signed over to this damned devil. Raphael kisses you on the lips, long and languid - and when you walk out of the House of Hope it’s with Enver’s hand in yours.

“Where are we going?” he asks, quietly. He’s scared. You squeeze his fingers in reassurance.

“Well, I’m on the road a lot. We’ll be travelling. Is that okay with you, kiddo?”

He nods, excited, and you can’t help but notice how much he’s grown since you first met. He’s more than a head taller - gods, how long has he been down here? It’s not worth thinking about. He’s still pretty skinny, but you’ll fix that. Now you’re in charge of feeding him, you'll make sure he gets a good meal every night. Make sure he walks with his back straight and chin up.

Make sure he never has to feel small again.

It isn’t a perfect life, but it’s a damn sight better than what he had to put up with in the Hells. He smiles now, every day. Isn’t scared of people. Slowly grows confidence in himself because he knows that you’re in his corner, come hell or high water (literally). One day you see him drawing in a little notebook you got him, some sort of diagram far more complicated than you can understand - he explains the intricacies of the machine, so you get him some spare parts to start tinkering with. Gods the kid is a natural. So intelligent. Far smarter than you, and you’re worried you’re letting him down because you can’t keep up - but every time he shows you a new invention he seems so pleased when you compliment him.

“Look at you, kiddo! You’re amazing! I bet there’s nothing that you can’t do.”

And he looks like for the first time in his life that he believes what you’re saying.

Life isn’t easy, but it is worth living. You’re on the road more often than not. You don’t have a home to call your own, but you make sure your mercenary work is well-paid enough that you can put the two of you up in inns overnight, keep you both fed and entertained. Enver seems happy and that’s what matters.

You go back to the House of Hope as little as you can, now, reporting in when you do a job and fucking Raphael into submission. He asks you about the boy every once in a while and you palm him off with a laugh, acting as if you barely care about Enver rather than the truth: you’ve been actively putting money away towards a fund for his future.

You come back from one of your meetings late one night. You’re exhausted from what your patron has put you through and are looking forward to sleep. The portal opens into the inn you’ve booked for the night. You expect Enver to be dead to the world, but instead he’s wide awake, sitting cross-legged on his bed.

“Hey, kiddo, what are you doing up so late? Is everything okay?” you ask, surprised. Enver fidgets with his fingers.

“Does Raphael hurt you?” he blurts out. You’re shocked.

“What?”

“Do you want to be in a contract with him? Because if you don’t, I promise I’ll find a way to free you, like you freed me! I’ll get strong, really strong, and I’ll kill him for you.” His hands are balled into fists, jaw gritted. His eyes are dark in a way that’s troubling and he drops his gaze to his lap.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa! Where’s all this coming from? Kiddo, nothing is wrong. Everything between me and Raphael is fine. I’m not unhappy or being forced into anything, I promise. What’s the matter, Enver, eh?”

When he looks up at you, there are tears pooling. He launches himself into your arms, holding you so tightly it’s as if you’re his anchor to this plane.

“I don’t want anyone to hurt you. I love you…” and then there it is. He calls you ‘mum’, or ‘dad’, or some other word that settles what you already knew: he’s come to think of you as his parent now. He freezes when he hears himself say it and you think back to when he was that scared little boy, longing for a bit of food by the fireplace.

You hold him back.

“I love you too, son,” you tell him, and the two of you stay like that for a long while.

He asks if his last name can become yours. You introduce him as your child. You are a family.

You’re right. He’s far smarter than you are, and you can’t keep up with him. It becomes more and more obvious as he gets older. He goes from brilliant teenager to incredible young man, and you’re glad that you have the funds to be able to send him to a good college and nurture his spark. You’re aware that you’re beginning to slow down a bit now. Your joints aren’t quite what they used to be, and though Raphael still covets you, he’s not oblivious to the fact that you’re getting on. His contracts for you become less vigorous. He likes to have you in his bed more than on the field. You don’t mind it, being pampered by your patron. It isn’t a bad life.

Enver doesn’t need to become Gortash. And what use has Bane for this man, this good man, this man who has made something of himself despite all of the odds stacked against him? None whatsoever. He never becomes the chosen of Tyranny. He is safe from the person he might have been.

The day he graduates at the top of his class is the proudest day of your life. You clap and cheer for him until you are hoarse, and he pretends to be embarrassed as you give him a big hug and a kiss on the cheek in front of all of his friends, every inch the glowing parent.

He becomes chancellor because of his own merits, not due to any underhanded trickery. He is a master when it comes to machines. He never invents the Steel Watch because he does not have the warped mind to create them. Instead he focuses on technology to help the city of Baldur’s Gate: cleaning machines, security automatons, things which help with the admin of running to place so those in government can focus on supporting Baldurites.

He buys you a house in the upper city. You settle down there as you grow older, make friends, get plenty of visits from your son. Everyone knows how loved you are. He eventually hires a young woman named Karlach as a bodyguard who you grow fond of: she makes up in brawn what he lacks, and she always puts a smile on your face when you have the two of them around for tea.

The Absolute comes. Raphael is poking around because of course he is. He’s got some new toys by now but you’re still one of his old favourites, and a couple of his most loved tricks with your tongue mostly keep him out of the way. Plus he promised not to interfere in Enver’s life, and he’s bound by that, the tricky bastard.

Some other person is Bane’s chosen, but it is not your Enver. Instead he fights for the side of good against the Dead Three and the mindflayer invasion, an ally to this Tav, the hero of Baldur’s Gate. Through their trials the two of them end up falling in love and it’s all you could ever want for your son. When the city fights against the Elder Brain you pick up your pact weapon for the last time despite his pleas not to: you’re a Warlock, damn it, and you’re going to defend your home until your last breath.

You don’t die, which is a nice bonus.

Enver and Tav help rebuild the city once the invasion has been stopped. Not too long in the future you have grandchildren, and they are the light of your life, always silly and giggling and joyous to hear the remarkable stories from your mercenary years.

You help out where you can but your age is weighing on you. One day, you take a tumble, and suddenly you’re bedbound; Enver and your family are visiting you every day as you get weaker, and you know that your final days can’t be far off.

He sits at your bedside, your hand clamped in his. Ah, a workman’s hand. The hand of a man who is constantly inventing and working and making himself useful. The hand of a good and decent man.

“The little ones go back to school tomorrow,” he says, fondly, “Tav is relieved. They’ve been rushed off their feet during the holidays– so many years since that Absolute business, yet the legislation is still going. They need a break, really.”

“It’s exhausting being a parent, isn’t it?” you ask with a grin, before being interrupted by a rattling cough which you can’t seem to shake. Enver lifts a glass of water to your lips and you drink, thankful. “Eurgh. Sorry.”

“You have nothing to apologise for. I’ll call the doctor again in the morning, see if she can get you any more of that tincture. Or maybe Halsin might have some ideas…”

“Oh, Enver, don’t go through all that fuss for me. Just sit here with me, kiddo.”

When you call him that, he knows he has no choice. You are still his parent, after all. He shifts to make himself more comfortable in his bedside chair, never letting go of your hand.

“I want you to know,” you say, voice soft, “everything has been worth it, Enver. My whole life was made better because you were my son. You’re the thing that I’m most proud of.”

His eyes go wide and glass over with tears, jaw grits.

“I… don’t say things like that, please,” he says, because he’s scared of what will come after.

“Hey, it’s okay. It’s okay, kiddo. I’m right here.”

He rests his head on the side of the bed, and you can see his shoulder heave as he cries. You bury your hand in his hair, smiling when it’s still a little greasy, and then you close your eyes.

When you open them again you’re in the House of Hope.

Your body feels lighter than it has in decades. You look down to see the wrinkles and liver spots in your hands are gone. You’re wearing what can generously be called an outfit, though it’s more straps of leather criss-crossed over your body.

“Well, did you have fun? Was your deal worth it in the end?” Raphael asks. He’s leaning against the doorframe, swirling wine around in a glass in his hand, another held out to you. You take it and frown.

“Were you… were you just standing here, waiting for me to bloody die?” you ask. He harrumphs.

“You didn’t answer my question, kitten.”

You take the wine, quaff it, then pull him into a kiss. He moans into your mouth in surprise and rapture.

“Yes,” you answer, honestly, because it was worth it. You’d never have made a different choice, “now, are we going to bed, or are you just going to stand here being smug for the rest of eternity?”

Raphael grins and pulls you to the bedroom.

taglist: @ghosti02art @sadandanxiouswtf @yeethaw13 @trappedinlimbo15 @infinitely-kate @dhampling @wereallbrokenangels @tilldeathdonugget

#raphael x reader #enver gortash x tav #gortash x tav #gortash & reader #my writing #raphael bg3 #enver gortash #bg3 fic #fic #raphael bg3 x reader

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leelei1980 · 5 months

Text

Mistletoe Menace

A Christmas Eddie Munson one shot:

🛑SMUT WARNING-MATURE CONTENT-18+ ONLY-MINORS DNI🛑

The holiday season was upon you and you felt like in the busyness of the season you and your boyfriend were drifting apart, but leave it to Eddie Munson to bring you back together again…..

Authors note: I wrote this quick and dirty,not my best work but it was fun! Possible misspelling, not really proofread, but I wrote it all in one sitting from an idea I had in my head. Please look past any mistakes that you might find, just pretend that they were never even there😂I hope you enjoy!

Reader-

It was a day. Who were you kidding? It had been a week from hell. The craziness of the holiday season had commenced and instead of people being overtaken with joy and holiday cheer, people were being complete and utter assholes. As if working in retail wasn’t hard enough, it only got worse the closer the countdown to Christmas got.

Your day started with you spilling your coffee all over your shirt, you being 5 minutes late because you had to change your shirt and then circling the parking lot at the mall eight million times trying to find a parking spot without someone taking it first.

You had taken the part time gig at the Mall as a seasonal employee to make some extra cash for the holiday season, you wanted to get your boyfriend something really nice for Christmas, he was 100% the best boyfriend in the world and you wanted to show him how much you loved and appreciated him by getting him a new amplifier for his guitar. He had had his eye on it forever, always commenting on how someday it would be his, every time you walked past the Music Store. Well his wish was finally coming true, in a week he would be unwrapping it on Christmas morning. Just seeing his face light up would make all this bullshit worth it.

You eyed your watch, 20 minutes until quitting time, please god, please don’t let one more person come up to you and ask if you have any more video games out back, if they do you know you are going to lose your shit.

Working retail after the Thanksgiving rush had really put a damper on your holiday spirit. You were always exhausted and decorating for Christmas was the last thing you wanted to do when you got home from your second job. You felt awful about it too, especially because it was your first Christmas with Eddie. You wanted to start new traditions with him, and he seemed so excited about it. You would make it up to him, tomorrow was your day off and you would finally be able to spend some quality time with him.

You missed him, his cheeky smile, his loving touches. Recently the two of you were like two ships passing in the night, he too had been looking to make extra money for the holidays so he had volunteered to go into the shop early, help out with the rush of people needing to have their winter tires changed over. With his early hours and your late hours you barely ever saw each other awake. Most of the time Eddie was asleep by the time you got home. Most nights you would cram a couple of snacks into your mouth, change out of your work clothes and crawl into bed with an already sleeping Eddie. He would roll over and spoon you, tell you he loved and missed you and then you would both fall fast asleep. In the morning when he got up for work he would lightly kiss your lips , tell you he loved you then he was off. The nighttime cuddles were wonderful, but you needed and wanted more and you were determined that tomorrow you were going to get the “Quality time” with your insanely gorgeous boyfriend that you had craved .

Luckily the drive home was short and uneventful, the one blessing of the day, and before you knew it you were turning the doorknob to your modest but cozy apartment and walking inside.

You gasped. Your apartment had been completely transformed into a winter wonderland. There were Christmas lights strung all around the apartment, paper snowflakes hanging from the ceiling and Mistletoe everywhere. And there in living area was Eddie, wrapping lights around a small Christmas tree in the corner of the room. You couldn’t help the tears that stung the corners of your eyes.

“ Hey Sweetheart, “ He smiled , the corners of his beautiful eyes crinkling and his dimples popping.” I , uh, hope you don’t mind, I wanted to surprise you . You’ve been working so goddamn hard, and I know you’ve been wanting to decorate but we just haven’t had the time. “ He shrugged.” I took a couple of hours off of work to get it started. I hope you like it, I’m just kind of winging it-“

You drop your coat and purse on the floor and run to him, wrapping your arms around him as soon as you make contact.” This is incredible, and so sweet. Thank you Baby.” You pressed your lips to his and you felt him draw you closer to his nice, warm body, and you melted into him.

He smiled as you pulled away. “ I figured that if I got the decorating done today, went and got the tree, than maybe we would have more time tomorrow to do .. other things.”

You smirked.”Other things? Like what, Eddie Munson?” You teased.

“ We can decorate the tree, maybe make some cookies….”

“ Those things sound nice.” You leaned your forehead to his, you could feel his big hands sliding from your waist, palming your ass and giving it a squeeze. “ What else could we possibly do tomorrow with our free time?”

He kissed the tip of your nose, than leaned in to whisper.” I could fuck you, over and over and over again. Would you like that Sweetheart?”

You groaned. It felt like it had been forever since the two of you have had sex. You certainly weren’t touch starved, Eddie had always been super affectionate, kisses on top of the head and neck, arms wrapped around you, head nestling into the crook of your neck, hand resting or rubbing on your thigh,he always had to be touching you in some way, and you loved it. But with your new schedule it hadn’t allowed for much awake time together, and by the time you got home you were always so tired…

“ I’m sorry Eddie, I know we haven’t made love in a while-“ you looked away.

“ Hey now,” he removed a hand from your ass to tilt your chin up, bringing your gaze to his.His eyes were full of love and affection.” You have nothing to apologize for Dollface. Life is fucking crazy right now, but it is only temporary. I don’t know how you do it, your fucking Wonder Woman working two jobs. I know we haven’t seen each other much, but as long as I wake up with you beside me I’m happy.”

“ I just miss you so much!”

“ I miss you too Sweetheart but we are almost there. “ He smiled than looked up. We were standing underneath a sprig of mistletoe.” You know what that means Angel.”

You got butterflies in your stomach, just his smile could give you butterflies. “ I guess that means you gotta lay one on me Munson.” You smiled back.

“ Those are the rules.” He dipped in and captured your mouth with his.

Goddamn, this man could kiss. His love and his passion was translated through his kisses, and they made you weak in the knees. Soft and sweet, hungry and needy, sometimes greedy and possessive, you loved them all. Eddies kisses were amazing.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him in closer. This is exactly what you needed right now, to be held in his arms.” I love you Eddie.” You murmured into his lips.

“ I love you too Princess.” He walked you backwards a couple of steps then nodded up towards the ceiling.

You looked up and laughed. “Jesus Christ Munson, did you buy every piece of Mistletoe in the entire state of Indiana?” It was literally everywhere.

He smirked.” Well I know how much you like to kiss me…I thought it was romantic.”

“ It is, and your right, kissing you is my favorite thing to do.”

“ Are you sure it is your FAVORITE thing to do Darlin?”

“ I might be able to think of one more thing I like better than kissing.”

“ What would that be Sweetheart?” He asked, A slow smile spreading across his face.

“ I think my FAVORITE thing is when you fuck me. It’s another thing that you are incredibly good at.” And you weren’t lying. Eddie was an extremely talented lover. He was VERY giving, always making sure your needs were met before his own.

“ Well I aim to please.” He leaned his body into you and kissed you ,his mouth and his tongue ravaging yours, his feet slowly walking you back and pressing you up against the wall.

You moaned into his mouth as you felt his hands slide under your shirt, cupping your breast, running his thumbs over the fabric causing your nipples to peak.

He pulled away for a moment and you raised your arms up over your head, and as you did your fingertips brushed against something hanging above your head.You smiled, “ You even hung it on the wall?”

“ Of course I did Sweetheart, because this is the perfect place for me to fuck you up against the wall. I also have it hidden in other strategic locations, I can’t wait for you to find them.” He smirked and he slipped your shirt off as well as his own.

“ Your such a clever boy. “ You smiled and tugged at his belt buckle, your fingers working quickly, “ Let me guess, you have a sprig of it in here too?” You unbuttoned his jeans and reached inside. God, he was so fucking hard.

“ Mmmm, fuck Princess.”

You pulled down his pants and boxers and practically drooled at the sight of his rock hard member.” Jesus.” You breathed. You wanted him so bad.

He stripped you out of your remaining clothes in a flash and then his mouth and hands were on you, kissing, licking and caressing, his touch giving you goosebumps, making you shiver.

“ You alright Sweetheart?” He asked as he drew your breast into his his mouth.

“ Y-yes, god, I need you so bad Eddie.”

He pulled off with a pop.” What is it you want?” His hand slid down your body, cupping the mound between your legs, his fingers slipping through your slick and circling the little bundle of nerves there.

You moaned and felt your knees go week.” Fuck Eddie, stop teasing me and Fuck me already.”

Eddie smirked.” There she is, there’s my good fucking girl.” He grabbed your ass and lifted you up, you immediately wrapped your arms and legs around him. His hard body felt so good against your soft curves. Your body was humming.

He slowly lowered you down onto his cock. You gasped at the sensation of him entering you, stretching you.” Is that what you wanted Princess? You wanted me to fill that sweet little pussy up?”

“ Yes, Baby, that’s what I wanted.” You whined. You loved when your sweet as saccharin boyfriend talked filthy, and he was so good at it, like he was a poet of dirty words.

He slowly withdrew then thrusted back in causing you both to groan.” You feel so fucking good Baby, so fucking warm and tight. “ He leaned in and kissed your neck. “ So fucking perfect, just like you were made for me.”

“ Only for you.” You tugged at his hair as he pounded you into the wall, fucking into you at a relentless pace. You needed this ,you had both needed this.

“ F-feels so good, huh Sweetheart?” He leaned his forehead on yours. “ My perfect girl, taking all I have to give her.”

“ Don’t fucking stop Baby, feels so good. “

“ Wasn’t planning on it Doll. “ He drove up into you.” You going to cum for me my Love?”

“ Yes,” you whimpered as you felt your release build.” So close-“

“ Let it fucking go Angel.”

You felt the wave of pleasure wash over you, enveloping you, your body shuttering as Eddie fucked you through your orgasm, you felt his hips stutter and you knew by the movements, buy the stream of obscenities flying out of his mouth that he had reached his peak as well.

You reached up and held onto his face, peppering him with light kisses as he caught his breath.” I love you so much Baby.”

“ I love you too Darling.” He smiled and kissed the tip of your nose then a soft, sweet kiss on your lips.

“ God, I can’t wait to find the rest of the mistletoe.”

Eddie laughed. “ Neither can I.”

“ Thank you Eddie-“

“ For what Sweetness?” He ran a thumb over your lips.

“For knowing exactly what I needed. The decorations, “ You smiled shyly at him and twirled a piece of his hair around your finger.” The sex. I missed you.”

He smiled.” I missed you too baby.”

You spent the rest of the evening wrapped in Eddie’s arms on the couch, watching Christmas movies until you started drifting asleep. When you finally made it to bed you found another piece of mistletoe tied to the headboard, you rubbed your sleepy eyes but smiled and playfully pushed Eddie backwards onto the bed. He pulled you down with him.

“ I guess I owe you a kiss” You straddled him.

He smiled up at you. “ Well, it is tradition.”

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

The next day was wonderful, a lazy morning in bed with Eddie, more mistletoe in the shower, breakfast at the diner then home to make Christmas cookies. It was exactly the reset that you needed.

The two of you decorated the tree, you finally gave him the ornaments that you had made him out of an old D&D strategy guide and dice that you found at a thrift store. He looked at them in awe as you handed them over, amazed that you had made them yourself. He grinned and immediately put them on the tree. Your decorations now consisting of lights, snowmen,popcorn garland , dungeons and dragons ornaments and instead of an Angel your tree was topped with a Gene Simmons Kiss doll that you also found at the thrift store. It was awesome and it was totally you guys.

“ I know this last month has been fucking insane, but even with all the crazy, this Christmas has been the best of my life. I fucking love starting new traditions with you.” Eddie pulled you into his lap.

“ Ditto.” You kissed him. “ Please promise me you’ll continue to do the mistletoe game every year.”

“ You don’t need a sprig of tree branch to make out with me Sweetheart-“

“ I know but it’s exciting.”

Oh it was exciting all right. Eddie continued to hide the mistletoe every day from then on right up until Christmas Day. You promised each other that no matter how crazy your day got you would always take a moment to kiss under the mistletoe, to take that moment to be together. Often times the kissing under the mistletoe turned into groping under the mistletoe which then evolved into fucking under the mistletoe, or in one case you giving him a blow job under the mistletoe and another time him going down on you under the mistletoe.

When Christmas Day rolled around you finally got to give him the Amplifier that he had been dreaming about, and the shocked expression on his face made every moment of working at that miserable mall worth it. He was completely flabbergasted. You felt much the same when he knelt down before you with a ring box in his hand, the ring that he had been working extra hours as well to buy, and asked you to marry him…. Under the Mistletoe.

Taglist: @tlclick73 @fairymunson @micheledawn1975 @elegantkoalapaper @goth-cowgirl-03 @bmunson86 @retrorage86 @hideoutside @veemoon @emmyshortcake @erinekc @babyloutattoo89 @amberolivia666 @eddiesxangel @liminalpebble @eddiesacousticguitar @munsons-mayhem28 @munsonsmullet @skyline4446 @maskofmirrors @blainetiberiuswinchester @bexreadstoomuch @mmunson86

As always thank you for reading! Comments and are-blogs are always welcome ❤️

#eddie munson #eddie munson smut #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson christmas #mistletoe menace

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rosepascal · 11 months

Text

A Wound That Never Heals || Joel Miller x Reader

summary: For the last twenty years you believed your parents to be dead. But after stumbling upon Jackson with Joel and Ellie you come to discover that's not true at all.

warnings: heavy angst, heavy themes of child abandonment, unresolved family issues. Readers got some trauma y'all. Bad parents.

a/n: This is an interesting fic for me. I wrote this as a way to vent my anger/sadness I feel towards my birth parents. The circumstances are different compared to this fic though because my parents abandoned me because of the one child policy in China. It's hard to think about sometimes but I just want to say that I do love my family. As far as I'm concerned the only family I have are the ones who have been in my life for the past 21 years. Plus my bio sister <33 Please note I do not speak for every child who has been abandoned/adopted and this is just my personal feelings about it

Twenty years. For twenty fucking years. You thought your parents were dead. That the outbreak had killed them or FEDRA did or something took them from you. That’s what you told people.

That they died, they were forced to leave you. Forced to give you away and abandon you in this god awful QZ. You were only a child. Put in shit school full of kids who were just like you.

At nights, when you laid in your uncomfortable cot with a thin blanket, you thought about them. Missed them. Wished you could be with them instead of here. You cried and cried your heart out when you were alone.

A child wasn’t built for an apocalypse.

Now you’re older. You’re not a kid anymore. You’re an adult now who has lived through years and years of horror. Everything you’ve done has been to survive. Including partnering up with Joel Miller. You met him only a few years ago but you had heard his name whispered among the QZ for a long time.

Mostly in fear. He was a man who got what he wanted and didn’t really give a shit if he pissed people off in the process. When you finally crossed paths with the man it was clear that you wanted to stay on his good side.

You don’t know why Joel let you into his smuggling ring. Maybe he felt bad or maybe it was his other partner Tess who convinced him. You were smart, tough, and quick on your feet. To them you were an asset. To you, they were protection. Mutually beneficial.

Tess was easier to get along with while Joel, well you and Joel’s partnership turned into…well it’s a little complicated. Putting a label on it isn’t easy. All you know is that he keeps your bed warm at night and kisses you in the morning.

For the last three-ish months, it's hard to keep track, you’ve been traveling across the country with a girl named Ellie. Marlene from the fireflies roped the three of you into her rebellion mess. At this point you aren’t even sure why Joel is still going. With Tess gone it’s just the two of you. He had known her longer than he had known you so you really didn’t know what to say to him afterwards. Tess was family to him.

You could only hope he feels that way about you too. Would he? Would he go across the country, dealing with clickers and raiders for your dying wish? Would he risk everything for you? Like he’s doing for his brother. His flesh and blood. It’s Tommy that he had been searching for, it’s Tommy that is his real family.

It’s Tommy that he finds in Jackson as you ride in on horses.

You’ve never seen Joel react with so much emotion when he sees his brother. The way he hugs him, you can't look away. Silently wishing that it could be you. Reuniting with someone who cares so much about you that they never stopped searching for you.

Looking over at Ellie you smile to try and get her to smile too, seeing that same look written on her face. Ellie never had a family but you know Joel and you mean more to her than she lets on. You zone out as you eat, their conversation fading in the background as you look around the cafeteria.

All these people have been here for who knows how long. You understand why Jackson could never promote themselves to the world. But still. There’s a selfish part of you that’s jealous of just how happy everyone seems. Kids get to experience a nice bed and warm food. But it’s not their fault that you didn’t.

So you bury that inside as you thank Maria for letting the three of you in. They talk and you listen, Joel and Ellie are shoveling down the food. Not that you blame them, it's been so long since you’ve had a nice home cooked meal. For some reason though you don’t. Picking at it with your fork and eating slowly. This doesn’t go unnoticed by Joel who shoots you a look. Waving him off you continue to eat.

Then following them as Maria and Tommy give you a tour of the town. It’s pretty overwhelming to be honest. People pass by you and there’s just so much noise coming at you at once. Your eyes scan a crowd of people who surround the big tree in the middle of the town. You stop. Stop moving, stop breathing for a moment. Just stop. By the tree are two people, giving out small gifts to the kids. It’s not them. It can’t be them. They’re dead, they were killed.

They..They look like your parents.

It’s been twenty years since you’ve seen them. So it can’t be them right? People change over that much time. It can’t be them because that means they’re alive. That they’ve been alive this whole fucking time. While you were stuck alone in some fucked up QZ they had been alive. A hand grabs your wrist, pulling you from your spiral.

“You alright?” Joel asks. You shake your head and pull your hand away from his.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Joel watches you walk off.

A frown on his face as he sees the turmoil brewing in your head and not knowing what he can do to help. When Joel goes off with Tommy and Ellie with Maria you’re left to wander alone. Quietly you walk through the town. Choosing to sit on an empty bench to just watch.

“You alright dear?”

It’s dark when Joel comes back. Ellie’s asleep, safe and sound in her bed. He sighs in relief as he stays in her doorway for a few moments. Just to be sure. The light down the hall is still on though. Quietly he walks down, looking in the room to find you sitting on the bed. Staring at the wall. Joel doesn’t know what to do. He doesn’t know what you need.

“I found them.” You say suddenly. He doesn’t react beyond stepping closer.

“Found who?” Looking over at him you smile half heartedly.

“My parents.” Closing your eyes you feel tears building up in your eyes. No matter how hard you shut them the feeling won’t go away.

Joel freezes.

Backstories weren't really his thing, he didn't like telling others much about before the outbreak and frankly he didn't care to listen to other peoples. But with you he did listen. He let you talk about them, a sadness in your voice that he recognized so clearly. That gut punch he gets when he thinks of Sarah.

“They’re alive,” You laugh and it scares Joel a little bit. Standing up you start to pace back and forth.

“They’re alive Joel! Isn’t that great! All this fucking time they’ve been alive!” You shout loudly. Kicking a nearby dresser in your rage. The air becomes uncomfortably silent as your chest rises and falls quickly.

“I thought I was crazy you know, some fucked up shit in my head making me see them but nope. They’re here. They’ve been here for years.” You shrug and laugh again. Joel purses his lips and gently starts to walk over to you.

“My mom, she came up to me today. Asked if I was okay.” Clenching your fists so hard that your knuckles turn white.

The anger, the frustration, the sadness, the hatred. It’s building and building. Waiting to burst out in a tidal flood of fucked up feelings. Joel's hand rests on your shoulder squeezing it ever so slightly. You burst.

Slamming your hand hard against the dresser you push his hand off and grab one of the perfectly placed pillows and scream loudly into it. You fall onto the bed, burying your face in your hands as the tears start.

Big fat ugly tears streaming down your face, coupled with quiet sobs. Your body shakes as you cry and cry and cry your fucking heart out.

“She didn’t recognize me.” You choke out.

“She looked me in the eyes and there was nothing.” The harder you cry the harder it becomes to breathe.

It hurts so bad, the pain that’s been building for twenty years has finally been released. It's cathartic to be honest. It’s been so long since you’ve cried or even let yourself feel any emotions.

“How could they just forget about me? H-How could they not come back?” You ask, your voice broken as you reach for Joel who opens his arms for you.

Joel never meant to get attached to you. He protected his heart for years and even now it's strange. He’s not good at this. He can’t offer you words of advice or any real comfort.

All he knows is that he’s furious for you. Not a day goes by that he doesn’t think about his daughter and to know that you parents would just. Leave you, abandon you like that. It lights a fire in him unlike anything he’s felt in a long time.

He'd do anything for five more minutes with Sarah. To hear her laugh one more time. Yet your parents left and never looked back.

“How could they leave their kid alone and afraid for so long?” You fists grip his flannel shirt tightly.

He’s becoming the only thing grounding you to the world as you become lost in your own self doubt. There’s a million questions that run through your head.

Did they think about you?

Did they remember you?

Each question swirling around and around until it feels like it's sucking you into a deep dark hole that you can never come back from. There’s nothing but darkness surrounding you. It feels like you’re that scared little kid again. Crying out for their parents but this time you know they didn’t want you anymore.

Joel's arms wrap tightly around you. One of his hands rests on the back of your head, pushing you as close as you can get to him. Until you’re practically in his lap, crying into his chest. Joel exudes an overwhelmingly comfortable feeling in this moment. He stays silent as he lets you cry, letting you get it all out until you’re satisfied.

A slow pounding in your head starts to form as the tears stop. The hurt still lingers in your heart as you rest your forehead against Joel's chest.

“What do I do now?” Your voice is hoarse from the crying. You hate it. It makes you feel weak inside.

“I don’t know baby but I know you’ll figure it out.” Joel rubs your back.

“I know it’s not much but, your parents didn’t make you into who you are now, you did.”

“You…” Joel trails off, unsure of how to word how he feels.

“I wouldn’t’ve wanted anyone else by my side.” He says slowly.

For the first time tonight you smile a real smile. He presses his lips against your forehead. A way to tell you he’s there even if he can’t with his words. The hurt is never going to go away. At least not for a long, long time.

But Joel’s right. You don’t need them anymore. You never needed them. Your family, your true family, is right here. Holding you in his arms and peacefully sleeping down the hall.

As far as you’re concerned, they’re the only family you need.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller #joel miller x you #joel miller angst #joel miller fanfiction

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