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victoria-grimesss · 8 months

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Call the Doctor, I'm in Love

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->Paring: Johnny ‘Soap’ MacTavish x Medic!Fem!Reader

->Words: 2.9k

->Warning: fluff & angst, mentions of injury/wounds

->Summary: Soap has a big ol crush on you, he’s not sneaky or quiet about it. Here are the many times he’s fantasized about you and the one time you answered his dreams.

->A/N: a little something because I love Foap!

Johnny ‘Soap’ Mactavish is a pretty guy, a hunk if you will and he knows it. He has no troubles with the ladies and is highly experienced but he always feels like he’s lacking something, someone. Until you came along, pretty new medic. You’re his favorite. He always goes to you for a patch up even waiting for medical help until you come back from break. Johnny is a saint, he is a patient and giving man.

But he wants you, desperately. He’s got a big fat crush and he’s not quiet about it. The 141 is exhausted hearing about what you did today and that Soap thinks you looked dreamy today, stitching up his arm. He saw you look at him a little extra that means you want to be with him right? They can’t wait until you either reject the poor fool or take him on a bloody date. Here are the times poor Mactavish has swooned over you:

The 1st Time: Your Introduction

Soap has found himself head over heels for you. He first saw you in the medical tent after him and an enemy went headfirst over a steep rockwall, he was fine of course, seems like that guy can bounce back from anything, you had nursed him back to health and he was done for. Your caring words and gentle hands were all he wanted now. And imagine his surprise and excitement when you became the team's new task-force medic.

“Alright team I hope you read over the file, we got a new member to our team. She's going to be our medic but don’t worry she can hold our own on the field. She’s reliable and damn good at her job. We’ve had too many close calls lately and I don’t want anyone dying of something that could have been prevented.”

Price ends his introduction and you greet your way around the room, everyone is nice enough for tuff military men. You find yourself sitting next to John, or Soap, or sometimes Johnny depending on who you ask. He’s a good looking guy, as are the rest in the room but you have a job to do so you don’t plan on messing up your place on the team by intermingling with one of them.

“Aye lass, do you carry one of those stethoscope things around with ya?”

He’s leaning on one arm, checking out the equipment you had brought with you.

“I usually keep it in the office, why is something wrong?”

You’re looking him over for anything obvious but nothing sounds any alarm.

“Ah no, it’s just my heart… it’s acting funny, beats a little faster when you come around.”

He’s smiling and you laugh not expecting a bad pick-up line but seems like he’s that kind of guy.

“I see. Well might want to try working on your cardio then that’ll improve that heart rate of yours.”

He pauses, thinking of what to say next to lure you in.

“You like bars doctor?”

“Not particularly..”

“Would ya mind joining me, I hate drinking alone.”

You smile, amused.

“Why not one of the other boys, someone you’re more familiar with.”

You’re looking into your bag and he drops his head lower so you’ll look him in the eyes.

“I’d like to be more familiar with you bonnie.”

You stop and put your hands on your hips pretending to think.

“Well I’m not so interesting, just a doctor after all. I’m sure Gaz would love to join you, you two seem the best of friends.”

He seems a little discouraged when you don’t play into his game but he looks at the small smile that plays on your lips and knows he’s just gotta keep trying. You won’t shake him off that easily.

—

The 2nd Time: The Flu Incident

Flu season. Your favorite time of the year, your inner monologue drips with sarcasm as you scrub your hands raw for the sixth time today. It’s late afternoon and the sun dips over the horizon as the rooms are casted with a honey soaked orange glow. The murmurs from the outside hallway peak your interest and you dry your hands and exit to the hall.

“I told you MacTavish I can help you just as easily as any other nurse or doctor, just come into my office and we’ll get you fixed up.”

An older more seasoned nurse has her hands on her hips, gaze pointed at Soap with a motherly disapproved look at her face. You step out of the room tossing the paper towel into the bin.

“Troubled patient?”

Soap lifts his head at your voice and he smiles, voice nasally and strained.

“Ah there ya are bonnie, been waiting for you. Think you can fix me?”

“You’d be in better hands with her you know? Unlike me she knows what she’s doing.”

Your tone is playful and Johnny stands weakly, hand on the wall.

“Yea but you’re my favorite, can’t feel better unless it’s you.”

The other nurse is called away shooting you a good luck look with her eyes, no doubt happy to not have to deal with the sickly man.

“Alright Johnny whatever you say. Let’s get you to a bed.”

“You’re a real saint hen.”

You place a steady hand on his back leading him to the bed in your office, away from the overflow so he can hopefully get some rest.

“Alright Johnny go ahead and lay down I’ll get your temp and let’s see if we can break that fever alright?”

He groans as he lays down obviously dealing with joint pain from the flu, it’s a nasty one that’s hit the base this time.

You run a washcloth under cool water, grab your thermometer, and sit next to him making sure he’s comfortable. You take his temp and frown,

“Give it to me straight doctor, am I going to make it?”

He grips your hand dramatically and you laugh while patting his hand.

“I think you’ll just scrape by, it’ll be close though.”

“Oh thank heavens. Guess you’ll just have to take extra close care of me right?”

He’s giving you those stupid puppy dog eyes again as you place the washcloth on his forehead and place the back of your hand on his cheek to feel the temp there as well.

“I guess since I’m part of your team now I’ll have to make sure you live, so yes. I will take extra good care of you.”

You smile at him softly, you don’t like seeing anyone sick but sick Soap reminds you of a kicked puppy.

You miss the way his eyes shine up at you as you chart his info. How the thoughts in his head are those of you and him on dates, what ring he will propose to you with, where you’ll honeymoon and various other daydreams he has swirling around. He would do anything for you to be his, he would capture the stars for you.

You get up from your chair to put his info into the computer and he looks at the sad flowers on the side table, shriveled and needing to be tossed.

“These flowers aren't lookin so good.”

You glance over and frown.

“Oh yeah, it’s been so busy lately I haven't had a chance to replace them yet.”

He hums and you walk back over to him and give him some painkillers and electrolyte drink mix.

“Take these and get some rest please, it’ll do you good.”

He sits up, eyes on you as he takes the pills, handing you the little cup back.

“I’ll get you some new flowers, take you out too.”

You’re facing away from him, a smile gracing your features.

“Johnny, I-”

“You don’t have to say yes now lass, just please, for the sake of my well-being think on it.”

You move over to him and dab the cloth onto his cheeks and cool down his pulse points, heart growing slightly as you reply.

“Sure Johnny, I’ll think about it. Now sleep, doctor's orders.”

He sleeps quietly next to you as you finish your charting. The sight of him so calm warms your heart and it scares you a little bit, you wouldn't want to throw off the balance of the team or make any weird power dynamics by falling for him but he makes it harder and harder.

The next week fresh flowers are left on the side table.

—

The 3rd Time: Award Ceremony Ball

Dressed to the nines each of you are. A very successful mission rewarded the whole team with a variety of medals and everyone was looking very nice all cleaned up.

Your dress was a floor gown with a slip up the leg and your back was exposed, the dress felt so silky and it was nice to not be covered in blood for once. Although you did manage to spill some kind of fancy jam on it and you were frantically dabbing at it with water when you were interrupted with Soap meeting up with you.

“Well don’t you look nice.”

He’s lively tonight, eyes bright with optimism after the job and sporting brand new chest candy to show off.

Your eyes drift up from the new stain on your dress to him and he, well he looks damn good. A new pink scar graces his jawline but it looks good on him, he can wear scars well.

“Thank you, you clean up well yourself too.”

“Ah bonnie don’t make me blush now.”

The rest of the team is chatting at a nearby table, Price is nursing a short glass of something dark, Gaz is going to town on the amazing food, and Ghost is engaged in conversation with the two of them.

“You wanna head back to the table?”

You offer, he shakes his head and offers his hand.

“I ask the fine lady to a dance.”

You blush, never asked to dance before, the ballroom floor filled with experts, couples swirling to the melody in the air.

You stew on it for a moment, and put your hand in his.

“Ok but if I fall you fall with me okay?”

“Always.”

Your hands are intertwined, one of his is on your waist and yours is on his shoulder. You both try to copy what the others do and the messy dance combined with the flutes of champagne you both consumed makes for quite the site. The mess of bumping feet and unsteady movements.

“For a sergeant you’re rather uncoordinated MacTavish.” Your laugh is light.

“I didn’t go to fuckin dance school, certainly didn’t learn this in the marines that’s for sure. What, did they teach this in medical school?”

“Does it look like they did? I can stitch up a bullet wound but lord help me I can't dance for shit.”

You bump into him again and his grip tightens slightly.

“I got ya bonnie.”

He could be living in a dream right now, you in such a pretty dress adorned in your well deserved medals, him with his. You’re gripping his shoulder and he’s got you in his arms, he can smell your perfume and see the small hairs out of place as the two of you spin but he loves it all the same. He wants it all the same.

“Johnny. Can you hear me?”

He blinks harshly, really sinking back in. You’re not his right now, he can’t take you back to his place after this and kiss each part of you, unzip the dress and let his fingers graze over the skin that's revealed to him. Watch how you move under the moonlight as he touches you just as he imagined. Not yet.

“Yea?”

“I said I think Gaz just devoured his fourth bowl of that dip I wanted to try.”

“Must be good then, should we head over before he finishes it all?”

You laugh and agree.

“Thank you for the dance MacTavish, you made me feel less silly for not knowing what I’m doing.”

His eyes sparkle at your admiration.

“I’m always happy to help.”

—

The 4th Time: Yes

This mission could not have been more fucked up. Shrapnel flies and bullets whiz by. The air is cold but your body is so hot, on fire from the adrenaline.

The coms are staticy and choppy but you can make out the team.

An undercover mission with Soap had you outside a pretty nice villa at dusk. It was meant to pose as a couple on a retreat to gain intel from an organization nearby but all hell had broken loose. You're cornered and Soap had been down to three bullets and you at two until you were able to take down someone else and gain the upper hand.

Communication with the team was hard, they had sent for backup now you just had to wait.

And Soap is shot.

He has taken a bullet for you and you’re frantic.

“Fuck Johnny, shit.”

He grimaces as you rip your bag off of your back to grab for first aid. It’s not enough though, you had to pack light and it’s not enough.

“Stupid ass job, told them to find a way to get more equipment.”

You’re more muttering to yourself, ripping things out of the small bag you were allotted to patch him up.

“You’re cute when you’re frustrated.”

Johnny laughs and it sends him into a coughing fit, the bullet is in his side. You pray it hasn't done permanent damage but the gravel in his cough scares the hell out of you.

“Hold on Johnny, I’m gonna get you fixed up alright, just stay still.”

A bullet nearly misses your head and he shoots back hitting the guy before clutching his side again.

“You think that’s all of them?”

“Fucking hope so, I need- I have to clean it.”

He’s strong, so strong and sweet and kind and nice and charming and you can’t lose him.

Not when you know you want him now. That you need him now.

“Gonna lift your shirt ok? Just watch your breathing.”

“Aye, not even going to take me to dinner first.”

Your eyes are blurry as tears slip down, first one the two.

He wipes them away, his blood smearing onto your face and you choke back a sob.

“C’mon bonnie, don't cry. I hate seeing you cry.”

His voice grows weaker the more he speaks and you beg him to stop, but he rambles.

He talks about how each morning he wakes up to see if you’re up yet. He waits for you at the gym, always goes to you when he feels unwell, gushes to the rest of the team about you when you’re not around.

He flirts openly with you and what a fool you’ve been to not reciprocate fully, to reel into him.

The needle breaks his skin and his eyes grow heavy, the blood is still flowing freely and you almost feel it rushing out of you as well.

“I’m so sorry Johnny.”

You stitch and wipe and repeat. It’s a gaping wound and it makes you sick seeing it on him.

You’re so focused on stitching him you don’t notice when his eyes close. His breathing is shallower now.

Your eyes race around his face, head now slumped to the side.

You wipe the wound, it’s not good but it should be ok. Heavy on should.

Your hand, coated in blood cups his cheek, shaking.

“Johnny?”

You move his head, it's heavy in your hands and your breathing hurts now.

You get closer, enough to press his forehead to yours and you inhale his smell.

You hold cloth to his wound to try to stop the bleeding and you whisper promises to him if he will just pull through.

Your lips are so close to his that when your tears roll down your face they roll off your nose onto his lips.

The hand that cups his cheek feels his pulse on his neck and it’s quiet and slow. It’s so silent here now.

“I’m so sorry Johnny. I love you. Fuck I love you so much I just didn’t want to mess anything up. Please don’t leave yet.

You lips touch his softly, like if you pressed any harder he would shatter.

“Could have- could have told me all that before I was dying yea?”

He laughs weakly, his smile cracking the corner of his lips. You cup his face fully now, careful to remove your hand from the wound but you applied enough pressure by now the blood has coagulated some.

“You mean all that?” His eyes are heavy but he still looks at you with that same shining he always did.

“Yes, god yes. I just didn't want to mess up the team dynamic but I don’t care anymore, you just have to pull through alright then let's go out.”

“I like the sound of that.”

Blades of the helicopter sound nearby cutting through the silence.

“Just hold on Johnny we’re gonna get you patched up. Then I want to see you in that suit again.”

“Anything for you bonnie.”

—

He recovered well with you by his side of course. You dressed his wound properly and gave him a kiss to make it heal faster he would say. Then two weeks later he showed up in a suit with flowers at your office door. The rest is history, but the team is much happier not listening to Soap’s rambling about you but they are happy nonetheless.

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uravitypng · 1 year

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𝐈 𝐓𝐀𝐋𝐊 𝐓𝐎𝐎 𝐌𝐔𝐂𝐇: 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐎𝐍𝐄

pairing: kaminari denki x reader, hanta sero x reader

word count: 1.8k

warnings/contents(for part one): angst, petnames (denki calls you babydoll), written with a chubby reader in mind /// minors do not interact (in later chapters there will be smut and explicit content!!) - smut, fluff and more in later chapters !!

a/n: this is my first series! i'm not sure how many parts this will have but if you wanna be updated i could add a taglist! thank you @tsukkisloser, they suggested i post two versions, by saying that gave me hundreds ideas to where the story could go and i decided to combine all the the ending ideas into plot points, making my series more developed! i'm really excited for this fic and i hope you all enjoy it, it's going to fun! <3

summary: it's terrible when you're in love with your best friend. it's terrible that he's in love with someone else.

part two >> | masterlist (check out my poll for this chapter!)

You're Denki's best friend and you've always been since you both were little, you were attached to the hip, and went everywhere together, both of you went to UA together. Everything used to be okay, Denki was just Denki, your best friend, but luck never took a liking to you and years later you've realised you're in love with your best friend, you always have been.

You're in love with your extremely attractive and all around amazing best friend.

Denki has consistently flirted, he's flirtatious in nature, you never had a problem with it until you you both grew up a bit, until UA. Until Jirou. Denki still flirted with everyone but he always spoke about Jirou to you and it grated. Sure he'd find people attractive before and he'd have liked people in the past but with Jirou it felt never ending. Everyday he talked about her, something about how funny or cool she is, half the time you doubt he even realised he was being so obvious when talking to you about her.

You knew it shouldn't upset you, there was no reason why it should but it did. He never flirted with you, and you never cared about it before, but why did he never pay any attention? He hit on every one else. You were always right there and he never spared you a second glance.

You became bitter, and you really tried not to, you tried your hardest to smile through every time Denki gushed about her but it was so god damn hard.

After blowing Denki off one night, out of exasperation, you end up in Sero's room, he's always had a very good read on you, and can tell when you're pissed off and normally he knows what its about too. "Has Kaminari messaged you tonight?" He slips into conversion while briefly looking at you before the next match begins.

"Yeah, but i'd rather be with you," you shrug back, trying to sound as casual as you can. In all actuality you would rather be spending your time with Sero so you're not lying, just hiding your irritation. It's always so easy with Sero. It use to be that way with Denki but not so much recently, you'd prefer to spend your night relaxing instead of getting Denki gushing in your ear about Jirou again.

"Hmm, I'm flattered." He looks up to smile at you. If only you were into Sero instead. You two spend the night together, playing mario kart and watching x-files.

You take notice that the room is really bright, you swear it was dark only a second ago, and you hear yawning behind you. That makes more sense you fell asleep in Sero's room. It's not the first time it's happened, but it's not particularly frequent, Sero does keep a blanket in his room especially for you though, which you always thought was nice. What's nicer is Sero must have laid you down with the blanket after you fell asleep, you're fairly certain you fell asleep propped up against his wall as the last thing you remember is the climax of the episode you were watching, you don't remember how it ended, you'll have to ask.

"Heyo," you say, softly, still waking up.

Sero makes a noise of acknowledgement, as he starts stretching. "We'll probably miss breakfast if we don't get up soon," Sero says gravelly voice from behind you, the contrast between his morning voice and his regular is something that always makes your face heat up a bit.

This time you hum to let him know you've heard him and start getting up. A couple minutes later you're out the room, albeit tired.

You two seem like one of the last ones up and you can tell Bakugou's been up for awhile by the way he's already shouting, how does he always wake up so early?

"I have no idea how that guy has so much energy in the mornings." Thank fuck for Sero who always matches your energy and knows what you're thinking.

"Speak for yourself, he's already made pancakes and man that guy can cook," you hear Denki say from behind you. He's so enthusiastic in the morning and you can practically hear his grin, you just groan in response. You see Sero smirk from the corner of your eye.

"Do you wanna go out today babydoll?" Denki asks, still too tired to engage in full blown conversations you nod and lean back so you're leaning on him. "We can go to the arcade or something, after you've had some caffeine of course." You turn to the side to look at him and stick your tongue out. Even though you were actually waiting to get something to drink so you can properly start your day, Denki knows every little thing about and that's very comforting when you've just woken up. Safe to say you had a good time with Denki that day.

.·:·.✧ ✦✧.·:·..·:·.✧ ✦✧.·:·..·:·.✧ ✦✧.·:·..·:·.✧ ✦✧.·:·.

Seven years later, you're outside that very same arcade after patrol on your way back home. You can't wait to get back and relax, you haven't eaten all day, you slept in late which is no surprise and had to miss breakfast. Even now as an adult you are definitely not a morning person.

"I'm home!" You call out, Denki must not be in due to the fact he hasn't called back to you as loud as he can like normal. He's probably at Kirishima's or something. When people ask why two successful, up and coming heroes are living together, they normally fill in the blanks themselves. 'They have enough money to buy their own place, so they must be dating, they're choosing to live together.' Crappy tabloids and internet sleuths are always jumping to conclusions.

They're technically not completely wrong about the fact that you both are quickly jumping the charts every year and have plenty to spend on your own places but you have chosen to live with Denki in this warm, comfy little flat but you are just friends, even if you wish there were something more.

After graduation it made the most sense for you to live together, according to Denki, and you'd much rather live with Denki than by yourself so you agreed, years flew by and you still lived together. The idea of moving out never crossed your mind, you like living with Denki, you love it, even if sometimes he forgets to take clothes into the bathroom when showering and he walks out with just a towel on or comes into the living room late at night drinking orange juice from the carton, only leaving a drop left and not buying another one.

He's your best friend and you love him, You've matured together and seen each other grow and you're so proud of the people you've become. Whenever you praise Denki too much though it definitely gets to his head.

After leaving UA it's been a hell of a lot harder to keep in contact with everyone, there's a group chat but it's pretty dead, and even then you haven't opened the last three messages that came through last couple weeks, if it was important Denki would mention it, you'll get round to it eventually. He's always been on top of communicating with everyone, he's always been the more sociable one. Now everyone's gone pro it's harder to find time for each other and have schedules that match up with others. That's why you're so lucky you have Denki.

Although it's not just Denki you've stayed in contact, luckily Kirishima lives close by and so does Hanta so that's good. You're fairly certain you and Denki are the only ones from your class who are living together, every other hero you know lives separately that's makes you pretty special in your eyes. It must be pretty lonely having no one to come home at the end of the day, you know you definitely would be lonely if you didn't have Denki.

You make yourself some dinner and message Denki after asking where he is. You're not ready to call it a night yet and it would be nice to spend some time with people after a tiring day. Denki's at Kiri's, so twenty minutes later you're at Kiri's too.

When you get through the door, you're immediately greeted by Denki's voice accompanied with Kirishima's and Hanta's laughing, and in ten more minutes you're all squished together watching some shitty show in the background that you have no interest in, listening to Hanta and Denki passionately argue about what star wars film is better, they're absolute idiots. According to Hanta, Phantom Menace is the best one because Jar Jar Binks makes his first appearance but Denki says its return of the Jedi because it's the one where Leia has the gold bikini on.

Even though it sucks that you don't see all your friends as often as you like, you feel like you, Kiri, Denki and Hanta have grown even closer, which is weird because you honestly didn't think you could grow closer with them. They were both some of the closest friends you made during your time at UA. Half the time you still end up falling asleep next to Hanta even now, years later, when you're shattered after work, with Hanta by the side of you. That's where Sero's been for years, by your side, that's where Kiri's been too. It dawned on you one day that not only do you have Denki right beside you always, they've been there too and you're very thankful for them.

"Anyway, Kirishima can I turn this shit off and put something actually interesting on?" Hanta turns to asks Kirishima, how does this man always know what you're thinking.

"Go for it, dude."

"What's the point, it's just background noise anyway," Denki complains.

"Yes, but highly annoying background noise. I suggest anything other than this," you say back.

Denki shuts up after that and they let you pick something.

You must have fallen asleep for a some time as Denki's crouched down beside you, tucking some hair behind your ear, whispering to you, "let's go babydoll, let's get you home." You mumble something unintelligible and start closing your eyes again. "I know babydoll, you're tired but you gotta get up. You can't sleep on Kiri's floor again, you're going to hurt your back. I would carry you but I don't want to hurt you while climbing any stairs. Can you get up for me?" He helps you up and and wraps his arms around your soft waist. "Good girl, we'll be home soon, I promise." you're too tired too think, and too sleepy, not even acknowledging Ejirou and Hanta on your way out, they're used to your hazy states and find it rather endearing. Walking home is a blur, Denki's got his arms around you, keeping you warm and stable. You trust Denki to get you home safely as you close your eyes again, not looking where you're going, pulling yourself even closer to him and burying yourself in his neck, his warmth and smell keeping you cosy and relaxed.

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c0wb0yenthusiast · 10 months

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❝Sweet as pie❞

Phillip Graves x Reader

So basically me and @sarahs-secrets2 exchanged ideas and I hope I did it justice!

Summary - you're a waitress and you're dealing with a particularly cocky regular.

✮

The sun was peeking over the horizon, hazy colours still swirling in the sky as you parked outside the café and opened up for the day. It was quiet, except for the sound of cars speeding by. It was only a stop n' go after all.

Buttoning up your uniform and now stepping out to see an array of customers filling up the booths, chattering away as you passed to get your notepad from counter.

That was until you heard a distinct voice.

"Hey, doll."

Your head swivelled around quickly to meet with him.

For the past week, this cocky, smart-mouthed man had sat in the same booth. For the past seven days, playing out the same exact routine.

"God, is it just me or do we keep running into each other?", he smirked, removing his aviators from his face and tucking them into his shirt pocket.

"Hi. Again. Do you want the usual?", you rested your hands on your hips, letting out a sigh. You'd met many douchebags in this café and he wasn't any different from the rest.

"Of course. You know me so well, already. Why don't you sit down and we can get to know each other a little more?", he grinned, batting his lashes innocently up at you.

He's just another country bumpkin who's trying to get laid.

"Honey," you smiled back at him, "I'd love to have coffee and hookup in the back of your lovely little jeep parked outside, but I'm actually quite busy because I have a life. Okay?"

He took a moment to process what he heard, before breaking out into laughter.

"Honey? Oh, girl, you're just adding fuel to the fire."

You didn't respond, tapping away at the tiled floor with the sole of your foot. You wanted to stay longer, but this café, the customers and the overstimulation it brought made you bossy and unsociable.

"Ah, are you alright?", the chuckles died down and he now raised a brow at you.

"I'm fine, I just- I really need to get to work."

"Sure thing, doll. Come talk to me when you're free."

The whole time you rushed from one table to another - he was still there. Sitting idly with his cup of coffee, fumbling with the dog tag hanging around his neck. You could feel his eyes boring into you every time you passed by his booth.

He always ordered the exact same thing: 'A black coffee - and keep em coming, darling.'

After running through the majority of the day around the café, it started to quiet down and people were filing out slowly but surely. Only a couple lingered by the afternoon, including him.

Slowing your steps, you approached his table again, he seemed a little taken aback to see you once more.

"Hey."

"Hi.", you breathed, letting out the pent up air you seemed to be holding in this whole time.

"Take a seat.", he nodded in front of him, to which you obliged and attained yourself not to collapse into the booth.

"What's it like?", you blurted out loud, now setting off a panic in your head yet keeping calm - mainly due to how tired you were at the moment.

"Hm?"

"Not having to run around and serve entitled customers?"

He let out a low chuckle, "It's alright, but I'd rather be here than my job."

"How come?"

He shifted in his seat, making his biceps flex under the short sleeves of his t-shirt.

"I'm going to be deployed soon, so I just thought I might enjoy my last couple of days until work. It's nothing, really." he added, seeing the way your expression softened.

"I can't believe you just told me all that-"

"Well-"

"And I don't even know your name!"

This made him grin, before lifting off his dog tag and sliding it across the table.

You caught it clumsily, eyeing the writing.

"Phillip?"

"Mhm, now what am I supposed to call you?"

You let out a fake gasp, "Did you ever bother to read my name tag? Or were you too busy looking at my tits?"

He shrugged, definitely the second option.

"I don't have to tell you, do I?"

Before he could reply, you leaned over the table and pushed out your chest slightly, your badge shining from the dimmed rays of the sun.

Graves blinked, his eyes widening and now reading the name.

"Y/n. That was a.. forward way to ask for my number.", he now fished in his pocket, bringing out a beaten phone with a car as the background.

You snorted, still practically laying on the table to meet him, "Alright, hand it over. Maybe this will help you when you're lonely at work."

Now tapping in your number, you turned the phone over in your hand. "How come it's so broken? I thought you guys get paid."

"Of course we do, but all of that goes to my other stuff.."

".. Like?"

"I don't know, my car, food, er... My car?", he mumbled hesitantly, now listing things under his breath.

You couldn't help but laugh, "That's nice, at least you're not engrossed in your phone."

"Darling, I only have that thing to call people, I don't need it for anything else."

You weren't focusing on his voice, just now seeing the scar on his cheekbone.

"Mhm.."

He caught your lingering stare, "I'd love to tell you the story, but I think you're too special for the tactics I use on all the other women who flock to me."

You grinned, sliding his phone back at him to which he clumsily caught, "You're the one who came to me."

"Sure, darling, have it your way.", he seemed to relax in his seat, gaze still fixated onto you.

After a small amount of silence, you cocked a brow, "What?"

"hm?"

"Do I have something on my face?"

"No, no.. I was just thinking about something.."

"What is it?"

He let out an amused huff, "Why should I tell you?"

"Because I'm bored."

"Alright.", he put his glasses back on his face, "How about we go for a ride?"

What?

"Excuse me?"

"I mean, you're bored and I've already paid my bill so we're off the hook-"

"But-"

"Don't fret, doll. I'll buy you dinner too, okay?"

That definitely shut you up.

#phillip graves #cod mw2 #fanfiction #cod mwii #cod mw2 fanfic #phillip graves x reader #call of duty

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kisskissbanggang · 6 months

Text

Disavowed - pt. 2

[5.5k Words/20min. Read - Priest!Chris x Reader - NSFW/Smut - Church, Your Mind is Playing Tricks on You, Confrontations, Something Feels Off, Catholic Guilt, Priest Kink, Semi-Public Sex, Truck Sex, I Swear This is a Halloween Series]

[a/n: finally time to get halloween cranked up to speed 💕 ty to @magicficwriting and @therhythmafterthesummer for beta reading 💗]

[Part 1 | Come Say Hi!]

It felt forbidden to be in a room full of people and be the only one to know that Christopher, Father Bang, was a disgusting hypocrite.

The day of your realization had been Sunday, obviously. It was now Thursday, after school, and you were all crowded into the modest boardroom next door to the faculty lounge of Pinewood Falls Prep. The walls were probably supposed to be white, if it weren’t for decades of wear and cigarette smoke. Even if the smell didn’t persist, the resulting hue of curdled cream lingered.

“So that settles it. It is generous of you to step up, dear… Dear?”

An elbow gently dug into your own at the conference table. You were so distracted.

Your gaze swung to your side to identify who just nudged you, when you recalled that Jisung was the one who so politely saved you a seat. Reverend Han, you had learned, was the other young man that helped Father James serve mass alongside Chris.

That creep.

Chris, that is. Not Jisung… although you had to admit that you weren’t exactly in love with how polite the deacon was.

“Dear…?”

You finally snapped out of your brooding then, finding Sister Judith rolling her eyes at the front of the room.

“Poor lamb must be sleeping with her eyes open,” Father James chuckled. To your chagrin, Chris laughed along. You wanted to shout it out at the whole room right then, just what a liar and a fraud the deceptively handsome priest was.

“I was saying,” Sister Judith reiterated, “that I know there’s a litany of work left in the wake of Jacqueline’s sudden departure, but that it’s generous of you to volunteer and step up to take it on, dear.”

“I did…?” you murmured out loud, stricken with disbelief. Jisung patiently nodded to confirm it for you.

To say that Sister Judith’s assistant left suddenly was an understatement. When you arrived at work early on Monday morning, her desk behind yours, in front of the Sister’s office, was empty. Every notepad, pen, and paperclip was gone, as if no one had ever occupied the space in the first place. Sister Judith wouldn’t tell you why Jacqueline left, but you supposed it was none of your business. At the beginning of today’s meeting, Father James had simply said it was a shame, but you were surprised that no one at all seemed to particularly care that the young woman had vanished so abruptly.

“You won’t take on everything, of course,” Sister Judith clarified. “You’ll be taking care of Jacqueline’s filing duties and backing up the receptionist when Roberta is unavailable. That’s all.”

“What about the lunchtime study group in the library?” Jisung suddenly asked. “Jacqueline was running it.”

“You can take that on if you have the time, Reverend,” suggested Sister Judith.

Jisung slouched back in his chair, as though he suddenly regretted saying anything in the first place. “Oh, uh,” he scrambled shyly, “that’s no problem, I guess. I just don’t know if the kids will take a liking to me–”

“Not like Christopher, you mean,” Father James laughed heartily, clapping a hand on the priest’s shoulder. “They practically flock to him.”

Chris humbly waved him off. “I hardly have anything worthwhile to teach; it’s just gym,” he denied. “I make myself available; that’s all. You have plenty to teach! Make yourself available, Jisung, and they’ll flock to you, too.”

The staff all but fawned over the platitude. Your pen’s barrel creaked in your hand, you were so close to snapping it in half. That pretty boy golden child had everyone wrapped around his little finger and it made you livid.

You left the staff meeting in a daze, trying to figure out why on Earth Chris refused to acknowledge you with any ounce of recognition. The whole ordeal felt like he was taunting you, and it was on the verge of working. There was no way it wasn’t him that you’d slept with. You remembered far too much of the whole night.

Maybe it was because your pride was admittedly hurt. You weren’t typically one for one-night stands like the one you were positive you engaged in, but the idea had intrigued you enough to want it. Now it just felt like you were being punished, some cosmic joke at your expense because you acted on your desires for once and now you couldn’t get it out of your head.

Indeed, even though you’d gone to your interview and mass with only an inkling of what exactly had transpired on Friday night, that fuzzy recollection had since turned high definition and was currently blasting at full volume in a maddening loop in your head. You had tried a divey little bar in Briar Bay, only a thirty minute drive away. There were no bars in Pinewood Falls from what you could tell, so the short trip seemed worth it. The bar had been a dank hole in the wall, a cozy hangout popular with the boat crews and mussel farmers that worked the bay. You’d noticed Chris before he ever saw you. He wasn’t wearing his clerical collar that night, obviously. Instead, you were drawn to this man sitting alone at a table in the corner, with the brim of his baseball cap pulled low over his eyes. You had left him alone and minded your own business at the bar…

Until a beer appeared in front of you before you could even start a tab. The bartender pointed at the sender.

Right at Chris.

Here, now, today, you were feeling self-conscious and self-righteous all at once while you grabbed your bag from where you’d stowed it in your desk, back in the main office. It had been a long day of school, and the weekly staff meeting made this one feel even longer. Chris had shared one single flash of recognition with you at mass on Sunday, but never again in the days since. He had to be too ashamed, you were positive. Grouchy was an understatement for how you were feeling. You were on edge. All week, you strained to make pointed eye contact with this man, see if you could catch him replicating that explicitly guilty glint in his eye that he had during church, and he was staunchly refusing.

Even over dinner, you drifted, like a wraith, into the dining room of the boarding house and barely paid attention to your perfectly charming and sweet housemates. Seungmin and one of your fellow boarders, Felix, had worked so hard on making a gorgeous dinner, but you were so plainly pissed to the point that you couldn’t properly taste food. The worst part, honestly, was that you weren’t solely thinking of outing this disgusting man.

You were plagued by how much you couldn’t stop thinking of your night together. Not only were you burdened with this miserable secret, but you were the only one who knew what this man looked like under his clothes, the way he acted in bed. He was horrendously attractive. He was regretfully skilled. Those juvenile little hickeys he left all over you took days to vanish. In fact, most of them finally faded just the previous morning–something you’d never experienced before. The longest a love bite had ever stuck around on your skin was maybe three, four days, but five felt like a ridiculously long time. It was only adding to the way you couldn’t get the picture of Chris’ bare chest or carved hips out of your head, couldn’t shake the feeling of his soft lips or his rough stubble.

One stupid hickey remained–angry and red and framed with teeth marks–right between your cleavage. More like a bite than anything.

This was going on far too long.

It was Friday. Your housemates probably thought you were sick in the head. They’d been so cordial and polite, trying as much as they reasonably could to get you to open up and share a little, maybe unload some of the burden you were clearly carrying. The previous week, before you’d ever slept with Chris by accident, you were gladly chatting and helping with housework, staying up late to wash dishes with the boys and sip iced tea on the porch, wrapped up in sweaters when the breeze picked up.

You almost felt ill. More than the guilt, more than the shame, more than the way you were convinced everyone knew you were complicit in Father Chris’ sin, you hated that you wanted to be right. The way he ignored you was too practiced, too aloof. What hurt more than him not showing any guilt was him not even showing any hint of knowing you existed in any capacity outside of school. You tried like hell to keep your head down, get your work done, try to confront the pile of Jacqueline’s filing left unfinished.

It was the damned filing that did you in, ultimately. An approved stack of staff schedules now sat at the top of the pile, unearthed after you made some progress in your fastidious sorting and storing. Fr. Bang, Christopher was staring right at you, begging you to glance at the piece of paper. Planning: 2nd Period.

You wished you would move on and let it go, but you peeked at the clock on the wall. It was almost a quarter after 9 o’clock. There was plenty of time.

You would do it.

No, you wouldn’t. You would work through the mountain of filing.

Yes, you would. You would confront this asshole once and for all and get him to admit that he recognized you, that he was disgusting and immoral.

The hallway was crushingly empty as you walked to the gym. Your shoes clicked loud on the aged linoleum floor. It was disarming, being this hyper-aware and critical of your own actions. Something resembling embarrassment clung to you like static.

Why were you so obsessed with doing this?

Walking into the gym, you almost chickened out when you found it empty, even though that was the entire point of catching him during his planning period in the first place. You scanned the basketball court and the stands extended from the wall, finding no sign of life and abashedly turning right back around to leave.

“Wait, I’m here!” rang out a voice behind you. “Can I help you with something?”

You warily turned back to face the voice, finding it to belong to no other than Father Chris.

He smiled softly, kindly attempting to keep you from running off. “That’s right,” he nodded with recollection. Your gut twisted. “You’re the new office manager, right?”

That was it. This was your breaking point. “You’re kidding, right?” you scoffed. Chris’ eyes widened in bewilderment.

“I’m… what?” he asked. “Are you alright, dear?” He stepped closer, and flinched when you smacked away his outstretched hand.

“That’s rich!” you cackled. “How long are you going to keep lying? How long until you stop pretending you don't know me?”

Chris shook his head in confusion. “I’m sorry, dear,” he said. “What are you telling me? I’m afraid I don’t understand–”

“Seriously?!” you balked. “You’re going to act like we’ve never met?!”

“We met before?” the priest blinked at you, maybe even a little bashful. Flattered, even. “Maybe in a dream, but I don’t think so.”

You huffed so hard, so affronted by the response, that it could’ve been mistaken for smoke spilling out of you. “That is some nerve you have, asshole–”

“Hey,” Chris said sternly. “Calm down.”

And you did. God, you hated that you did. Worse yet, you weren’t even sure why you calmed down at all. The energy from your outburst was simply sapped out of you in its entirety.

“Do you want to talk?” Father Chris offered. “It seems you have a lot on your mind.”

Unsure what else to do, you indignantly folded your arms. “Fine. Yes. I’d like to talk.”

He nodded seriously. “Okay, I’ll be more than glad to. I have a meeting about a baptism here in ten minutes, but how about tonight? Somewhere we can have some privacy.”

“Oh? And where’s that?” you impatiently asked. If he suggested the Trawler, you’d scream right there and then.

“I live in Briar Bay for a couple more weeks,” he explained. As if you didn’t already know this. As if he didn’t tell you on Friday night. “How about Reflections? It’s a nice little cafe I like.”

You shifted your weight from one foot to the other, unsure. All the energy you originally had to pursue this issue was gone, vanished and leaving a vacuum in its wake that made it difficult to proceed. However, the idea of getting that confession was still too sweet.

“Fine,” you agreed, almost defiant, like you weren’t giving him exactly what he wanted. “Okay.”

╚⊶⊶⊶⊶⊶✞⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷╝

Not okay.

The worst part of Briar Bay being a “short” 30-minute drive away meant that every five minutes, you were wondering what the hell you were hoping to achieve. What, Chris would admit what he did and you would be satisfied? You would simply leave? Were you going to turn him in and humiliate him, really punish him for being so terrible? What exactly did you want here?

And still you were thinking about how gorgeous he was in bed. This still weirded you out. You explicitly recalled hardly being able to remember anything during your interview with Sister Judith earlier that week, but days later and now you could perfectly recall the cute way he scrunched his eyes shut when he climaxed? That queasy feeling settled in your gut again. By the time you turned off the small highway into Briar Bay, you almost felt feverish. Nauseous and everything. You were nervous trying to pick out each business. The Trawler passed by on your left down the main road, but finally you caught it. Reflections was apparently a sweet little coffee shop at the end of the main street, the last business next to the main route down to the bay. And out front, sipping from a paper cup in a cardboard sleeve on the patio?

Father Chris had the audacity to be the picture of serenity. His shitty powder blue truck was parked out front. He was dressed in a casual pair of jeans and a sweater. A ball cap was pushed low over his brow, just like the week before.

Fucking creep.

You nervously pinched at the hem of your top. In a move of pure desperation to hold any power you had left, you put on the exact outfit you’d been wearing Friday night last week. A crop top of reasonable length, a belted pair of cute jeans, some casual sneakers, and a cardigan because it was getting a bit chilly out. You weren’t totally sure what you were looking to get here, but maybe this would be the element that finally got that look of recollection you were so hungry for.

As you should’ve predicted, he wasn’t even outwardly excited to see you when you approached. Just a glance and a soft smile before he motioned to the chair across from him. You stiffly took a seat, when Chris pointed out toward the cliffs looking over the bay, up the hill from the cafe. “So you’re new, right? You just moved to town?”

He waited patiently until you silently nodded before continuing. “That’s Barrett Bluffs. There used to be a church there until it burnt down a hundred years ago. I just noticed that there’s actually a square patch of dirt up there. Maybe it really did burn down, except the story is it spontaneously combusted. The local kids used to dare each other to look over the edge.”

“Why?” you asked, attempting to remain nonplussed.

Chris laughed into his drink. “I guess there’s a cave on the cliff face or something. The local legend is that a vengeful spirit lives in it. I dunno. Kids are wild.”

“Yeah,” you nodded, distant while your gaze was still fixed on the square patch of earth at the top of the bluff. “They’re pretty imaginative.”

“What’d you want to talk about?” he suddenly asked. You snapped out of it.

“I just don’t understand why you’re pretending you don’t remember me,” you simply stated.

Chris shrugged helplessly. “Because I don’t? Would you like me to get you something? Their chai here is delicious.”

You felt like your face was about to crack into a thousand tiny pieces. Every single option ran through your mind at once, tripping over each other. Really, you could argue this some more, or just leave it alone… but you did neither of these things. Instead, you got out of your chair and simply walked back up the street. Chris hopped to his feet and jogged after you, finishing his drink in the process and tossing it in a garbage can.

“Where are you going?!” he frantically asked you.

He followed you all the way to the Trawler, where the bartender waved hello to you, driving you even more mad than you already were. You grabbed Chris by the elbow and practically threw him into the chair in the back corner. He watched, bewildered, as you pointed at the bar.

“I was there,” you heatedly explained, “you were here. You bought me a drink and I came over to sit down. You said you liked my perfume and I said I liked your cologne, and we had a great time, and you kissed me in the back parking lot out there in front of your truck before you offered to give me a ride back to your place!”

How you remembered all these finer, non-explicit details, you had no idea, but they were all clear as day all of a sudden. Chris, meanwhile, was beet red in the face.

“Uh, er,” he floundered.

And there it was.

That tiny, miniscule little flex of muscles in his face, his eyes widening a millimeter.

A fucking confession of guilt if you ever saw one, you were convinced.

Was this what it was like to go crazy?

Except he doubled down. Chris squared his shoulders and smiled that same humble smile. “I’m sorry,” he apologized. “I really have no clue what you’re talking about. But for what it’s worth, I’m having a nice time. You pretty much tricked me into a date. Smart play, too, since it’s the only way I can enjoy one.”

One final option lay in front of you, one you were finally angry enough to use it. You bluntly yanked the neckline of your blouse down, exposing that one last hickey, the one that looked more like you were attacked by some animal. Chris’ eyebrows raised in surprise, his focus darting to where the mark was and away.

“Still insisting I’m crazy? You're a real piece of work, Father,” you scowled. “Hope you're pleased with what you got.”

You let go of your top, grabbed your bag, and stormed out of the bar through the back door, the nearest entrance and into the small parking lot there just so you could get some fresh air. An uncomfortable heat surged up your back and radiated through your chest like a fever. You were nearly on the verge of furious tears. Squeezing between two pickups, you were so distracted that the rearview mirror of one of the vehicles smacked your shoulder. Fuck Chris. You would turn him in, maybe even before mass on Sunday–

Rushed footfalls on the gravel of the parking lot startled you, and you turned with only enough time to gasp when you found Chris there, his hands already cupping your face and pulling you in for a heated kiss. You barely had time to register all of this between the priest panting hot, desperate in your mouth, his cologne and aftershave making your olfactory senses tingle. His lips were still so soft. And then you remembered that this was disgusting.

The force of your slap against Chris’ cheek was more of a shove, getting him the hell off of you. You found yourself leaning back against the bumper of the truck you’d squeezed past, still holding your hand out to keep him back.

Chris massaged his cheek and jaw where you’d hit him. He was still panting. “I hate this,” he said with a firm shake of his head. He wasn’t even looking at you. “I hate this so fucking much.”

The cursing would’ve surprised you if you weren’t already plagued with memories of him cursing over and over again the previous week.

“What?” you rhetorically asked. “What do you hate, exactly? I thought you didn’t know what I’m talking about.”

“Would you knock it off?” Chris snapped at you. You leaned back against the bumper of the truck, as much as the metal surface would allow. “We both know I’m fucking lying, I’m lying through my goddamn teeth!” he brokenly ranted. “But what I want to know is how the hell do you remember so much?!”

“Am I not supposed to?” you asked, uneasy.

Father Chris shook his head again. “No, because I barely remember anything. All I know is… is–”

“What?” you prodded. You stood up straight and took a tentative step closer. “What is it?”

“I want you, and I fucking hate it,” he spat. “I shouldn’t be tested like this. I don’t deserve this! I’m stronger than this.”

These were more admissions than you were even hoping to achieve. Yes, Chris remembered sleeping together. Yes, Chris was disgusting and immoral, and wanted more.

You didn’t feel triumphant. You didn’t feel victorious.

You felt smug. A craving erupted inside you, swallowing you whole.

You wanted to punish him. You wanted him to live in that fraught feeling of deplorable desire.

“Are you?” you questioned him. A smirk pulled at the corner of your mouth. “Are you stronger than that?”

Chris glared at you, brows furrowed as he digested the fact that you were blatantly mocking him now. It was difficult to assess his next move, but you didn’t have to wait long for another hint, because he simply took that option away and flatly answered you. Chris reached for you again, grabbing at your sleeve and pulling you close so he could kiss you again.

And this time, you let him.

When you weren’t almost gagging on his tongue in your throat, you adored how pissed he looked just kissing you. By now, you were dealing with his hands, too, desperately grabbing and squeezing you. He even began kissing your neck, his teeth grazing over your skin and nipping at you until you pushed him off again. You both caught your breath for a moment, but Chris nonetheless grabbed at your hips again.

“I’m not letting you mark me up again,” you scolded him.

He nodded obediently, despite already kissing your neck some more. “Sorry,” he panted against you, “I just, I need more– We’ll get in my truck, okay? And–”

“What,” you grinned, taking a chance to softly place intermittent kisses of your own on his throat. “You going to be a coward and hide me away at your place again?” From this vantage point, you could see he was wearing a small, golden crucifix just under his sweater. Cute.

“Don’t want to?” he asked, fumbling in his pockets while he let you kiss him. “That’s fine, it’s dark enough, just in the truck is fine–”

You raised an eyebrow in questioning. “But you parked back at the–”

“What? No,” he interrupted. “It’s right here; come on.”

That made no sense. Chris’ wreck of a truck was back at Reflections–

But the metallic clatter of a keyring stopped your line of thinking in its tracks. Chris backed you up to the passenger side door and unlocked it before he scooped his hands under your ass, eagerly hoisting you up onto the bench seat. He was already working your belt until you grabbed the collar of his sweater and pulled him into the truck with you. You refused to let him lead here. If he was questioning his fortitude, you’d make it exponentially worse.

Chris wrestled with you a bit to get comfortable in the cab of his truck, ending up sitting in the passenger seat with you straddling his lap. He was incredibly hard between your legs. When you worked your hips down against his, the friction drew the deepest, most regretful moans out of him that you’d ever heard. His strong hands clutched at your hips until you finally unbuckled your belt yourself. He leapt at the opportunity, still kissing your lips, your jaw, your neck, but now his starving touch drifted down from where it’d moved to your breast, down to slip under your panties and between your legs. You gasped and sighed in pleasure, his long fingers rubbing your sensitive clit before dipping into your wetness.

“Fuck,” Chris gruffly cursed again, “you feel so good.”

“You still hate it?” you teased, almost laughing when he nodded pathetically.

“You’re so bad for me,” he whined. “I just want more.”

You almost felt bad for him.

Almost.

Chris watched in the dim of his truck, only illuminated by a couple security lights behind the old bar as you knelt up so you could shimmy your jeans down, and off one leg. You sat back down on his lap, your damp heat resting back against him but going no further. He looked up at you expectantly.

“Well?” you grinned. “Go on. Make your decision.”

A hesitance sank in between both of you while he considered this, his eyes glazed over and shining. You didn’t blame him. Truth be told, you were surprised with yourself, too. You weren’t typically one for such intensity, but there was something about holding this much control that you were getting satisfaction from in an unexpected way. You scolded yourself for a moment for coming on too strong.

Until Chris warily removed his hat and lifted his sweater off along with his undershirt, revealing his crucifix sitting on his bare collarbones. He set these on the driver seat beside you both, before his hands now wavered at his belt buckle. Father Chris quietly sucked in a breath, as if it were a long, drawn out gasp, astounded at his own actions when he unbuckled his belt and opened his jeans. You could feel the velvety, smooth head of his erection up against you. He paused again.

You pressed your lips to his temple, a tender little reprieve in the middle of this regrettable tryst. “Did you make your decision?”

Chris could be felt nodding before his hands pushed your hips down against his own. You both groaned then, his gorgeous cock slowly stretching you around him. He sucked a breath in between his teeth. “Fuck, baby,” he gritted out. “Feel how you’re opening up for me, it’s so goddamn good–”

You loved the way blasphemy sounded coming from him while you adjusted to him inside you, enough that you immediately took over and began riding him, never giving him a chance to suggest it or try taking the lead. Again, if he was going to decide to be immoral, you were going to really throw that into perspective.

Chris cried out loud in pleasure when you dropped your hips down onto him and began working his erection into your depths, trying to search out that good angle while the priest was lost in the moment. He was so fucking hot like this, whimpering under you while his thrusts met yours, with no one to blame but himself by this point.

Right?

There was one second where you began to doubt yourself, maybe wondering if you were taking this too far, but Chris interrupted you. Even though you were hellbent on not letting him take control, you couldn’t bring yourself to resist when he grabbed onto your thighs and helped you grind into him instead of riding him, helping you climb that high you were chasing. Worse yet, he pulled down the neckline of your blouse like you’d brazenly done back at the bar, except he went further by pulling your breast to his mouth. His tongue lewdly ran over the bite mark you never managed to get rid of, but he kept his teeth off of you, opting instead to wrap his lips around your hardened nipple, overstimulating you just long enough to coax an orgasm out of you. It hit you hard and suddenly, a sharp gasp punctuating that blissful release as you shuddered around his erection still grinding into you. Chris’ actions got a bit more desperate now, goaded on by how you swept your fingers through his hair before clutching on, reeling his head back onto the back of the bench seat and riding him harder, your rhythm relentless and pushing him closer and closer over the edge.

“It’s good, right?” you sweetly asked. “You gonna cum for me, Chris?”

“Fuck, hold on,” he croaked, his eyes rolling back in ecstasy before you gently pulled his hair again. “Gimme a second, we can’t–” he pleaded, all pouty and doe-eyed, “goddamn, hold on, I can’t–”

╚⊶⊶⊶⊶⊶✞⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷╝

But he did.

At least, you thought he did.

Because, as if nothing had happened at all, the next thing you knew you were waking up in a bed that wasn’t yours. It was his again. The way you seemed to know this instantaneously didn’t ring as odd to you when it probably should have, but there was far too much to be confused by going on at once. How did you even get here?

You blearily sat up, the crust in your eyes making it even more difficult to see, along with how dark it was. The bed was empty but you knew it was his. You tried to make out the rest of the room, get further confirmation of this fact you already knew, until you found your bag on the floor. Your phone was on the brink of death when you fished it out, but it was still able to report that it was five in the morning.

The weird thing, at least in your mind, was that you were clothed and alone. You did just fuck Chris in the parking lot behind the Trawler, didn’t you?

… Didn’t you?

It felt like you did. But, even now, fully clothed in this veritable stranger’s bed…

It felt like it’d been a vivid dream.

You slipped out of the bed, not even covered in a blanket. Your shoes were still on your feet. The room was a bit cold, enough to wake you up a bit faster. Judging by the view out the window, Chris lived in an upper floor unit, likely a private walk-up like many of the old houses in the area seemed to be updated into. This house was old indeed, listening to the creak of the floorboards as you warily walked out of the bedroom and found yourself in a small kitchen. A frayed cord hung from the ceiling. Following it upward, it was attached to an old attic door.

“I wouldn’t pull that if I were you,” came a voice, bringing you back to the oddity at hand. There was Chris, sitting at his tiny kitchen table. He almost looked sick, his cheeks pale. You were certain if you felt his forehead, it’d be clammy. A mug with three tea bag strings hanging out of it was clutched in his hand, shaking the smallest bit for you to see. “The attic door is broken,” he explained, not looking at you. “The super is supposed to take care of it.”

You looked up at the door again. It didn’t appear broken, but you left it alone.

Chris grimaced into his mug. “Did you and I… Did we hook up again?”

You nodded, a gesture you weren’t sure Chris saw but he nodded back nonetheless.

“I shouldn’t be wanting this,” he frowned.

You were at a loss of what to say. Instead, you comfortingly ran your fingers through his hair. Truth be told, the fact that neither of you were freaking out over not concretely remembering this was probably the least weird aspect of it all. You both had your own, much bigger concerns.

Chris took a sip of his tea. His hand twitched, making him sloppy. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “I’m better than this. I’m not supposed to want you.”

“I’m sorry,” you weakly attempted.

The young priest raised an eyebrow at you. His eyes were bagged and red, bloodshot like he hadn’t slept in days. “No, you’re not.”

It wasn’t a denial. It was a diagnosis.

And he was right.

Chris betraying his vows and giving into you was the most potent adrenaline rush you’d ever experienced. That was the case the first time, and it was the case now.

And if he didn’t stop you, you’d make his life a living hell until he repented.

#neverendingdreams #straykidsland #bang chan smut #bang chan x reader #bang chan x you

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dotster001 · 7 months

Text

Day One: Noir

Summary: Beel x gn! Reader. For best effect, imagine with black and white e colors until the lights come up. Italics are voice-over. You'll see what I mean 😂

October Promptlist that'll probably run past October 😅

(The scene is an old fashioned detective's office. It's empty except for Asmodeus sitting on your desk, buffing his nails, and crossing his legs at the knee in what he hopes is a seductive way. Enter Detective Y/N.)

Asmo/Secretary: (dropping his nail file, and running to embrace you) Detective! Something horrible happened while you were out. I'm so terrified that I need you to hold me!

Asmo was a lovely dame, but had never quite snagged my heart. That never stopped him from trying though.

Detective YN: (with a tired sigh, implying this happens regularly) I'm tired, doll face, just get to the point.

Asmo: There's a new client here to see you! They're quite the damsel. (Dramatically pressing a hand to his heart) It's truly tragic.

(Asmo leaves, and Detective Y/N takes a moment to collect themselves before their next client. They look up at a picture of a blonde detective, and sigh fondly. There is some form of history here, but it is up to actor interpretation what that history is. After a moment, Beelzebub enters.)

(He is dressed in all black, a true 20's damsel. His hat has a black veil, and he holds a plain handkerchief in his hand, pressing it to his cheek as he cries at irregular intervals. He is in mourning.)

Beelzebub: Detective. Please help me.

(The detective is allured by the strange beauty before them, and immediately we see them decide they'll take the case)

Detective Y/N: What seems to be the trouble, gorgeous?

(Asmo flounces out with a pout, and the detective is left alone with the damsel, who takes the seat in front of the desk)

Beelzebub: Someone has stolen something from me. Something important.

Detective Y/N: (leaning forward; intrigued) What was taken?

The damsel before me was incredibly attractive, and very strong. He seemed like the gentle giant type. A type I was particularly fond of.

Beelzebub: (with a nearly imperceptible moment of hesitation) I had twenty pounds of leftovers from Hell's Kitchen, with my name written on it. I woke up this morning and it was gone.

(The lighting changes, and the detective stands. We know this cue. They are beginning to solve the case.)

I know this type. He is dressed in finery. It isn't above belief that he would be a target of a robbery. Especially by the greed syndicate, who has been making the rounds lately.

(There is a pause in the voiceover, as the detective slowly turns to look at Beelzebub.)

Or is something else at play here?

(The shot focuses in on a small stain on the handkerchief, then on the corner of Beel's mouth. Detective Y/N swoops in and roguishly kisses Beelzebub, who has already fallen for the detective's charms.)

Detective Y/N: Your breath has Hell's Kitchen flavors all over it. You ate your leftovers!

(Beelzebub gasps. Asmo twirls back in and lays seductively on the Detective's desk. The light focuses solely on him, and suddenly the voice over is no longer that of the Detective's, but of Asmodeus)

The detective had once again solved the case. And while I was again enthralled by their intellect, I could only wonder how long it would be before they recognized the true beauty that sat before them.

(He walks over to the detective, who is unaware of the tableaux happening around him. Asmo reaches to caress their cheek, but we understand this is all in his head.)

How long until the great Detective Y/N falls to my charms?

(We hear a maniacal laugh, right before the credits roll)

"And cut!" The little D of lust called, and you finally relaxed. The lights on the set came back up, and you smiled at Beel.

When you'd agreed to help Asmo keep his and Satan's detective show running, you hadn't expected to be a guest detective. Then again, you understood that while Satan was away collecting new books, you needed a detective to fill in or there'd be no show.

You'd definitely have to discuss your contract with Asmo, though. As far as you remembered, there had been nothing in it about him trying to seduce your character. Oh well. At least your favorite man got to act in this one with you.

"Didn't take you for a method actor," you laughed as you slipped into Beel's lap, the flavors of his previous meal still dancing around your mouth.

"Asmo thought it would help my performance," Beel said with a smile, his hands trying to press you even closer to him as you sat in his lap.

"Beel, don't you dare get Y/N's outfit dirty with your food stains!" Asmo snapped, as much as a control freak as ever.

You buried your face in Beel's shoulder.

"How long until Satan comes back?" You groaned.

Beel laughed. "You only have two more episodes, then he'll take over again."

"Save me, beautiful damsel."

"All you have to do is ask."

#october prompts #obey me #obey me x reader #om! beelzebub #beelzebub x reader #beel x reader #om! asmodeus

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heaven-s-black-box · 4 months

Text

Pretty Little Things- Dainsleif x Gn! Reader

Return to Station - GI File

Recovery date: October 21st, 2023

Description: Long after the fall of Khanrehi'a, Dain runs into you in Sumeru. All he can do is watch from a distance.

Notes: Now playing Pretty Little Things by The Crane Wives.

Word count: 566

Back to directory

Dainsleif hates waking up. Not that his sleep was particularly pleasant. It was, after all, plagued by nightmares and the agony of his corruption. But waking up reminded him of two, unpleasant, truths. For one he —unfortunately— is still alive, and for another, he’s still alone.

He tells himself it’s punishment.

It’s his atonement.

He doesn’t deserve company, least of all yours.

As he straightens his clothes, preparing to continue his journey, a flutter of silver catches his eye. Before he can stop himself, he’s tripping over his feet with a lack of elegance unbefitting the former Twilight Sword. He catches himself on the desk in front of the window, and angles himself awkwardly to watch the silver streak settle.

A cool breeze rushes into the room as he props the window open just in time to catch the tail end of sweet laughter. Your silver scarf, a gift from an old friend, sways behind you in the breeze as you talk with a young girl.

Through the blood pounding in his ears, he can faintly hear you two talking.

“Collei, please, you don’t have to get me anything.”

“I insist! Amber says that kids in Mondstadt get their teachers presents all the time, so I want to get you something,” Collei pauses for a moment, mouth opening and closing as her face scrunches up. She takes a deep breath and then yells, “And I won’t take no for an answer!”

Her face flushes quickly as people around you turn to look. You just laugh and finally accept her offer.

“I can get you flowers if you don’t want something that’ll keep.”

Dain watches as your shoulders scrunch every so slightly, your breath undoubtedly getting caught in your throat. Even from behind, even as his memory grows hazy, he knows what you look like when you’re uncomfortable.

He’d been there through countless fits of illness; watched you curl up in a ball as your stomach decided to expel its contents. Late nights at fancy events where he’d swept you away from awkward social encounters. He still remembered how your brow furrowed, your nose scrunched, and breath hitched.

He still remembered why you hate flowers.

“How about we get some sweets, then Tighnari and I can share them.”

“Okay!”

You look happier, he thinks, when you finally turn around so that he can see your face. Your eyes meet as Collei rushes off down the street in front of the inn, and he half expects you to turn away immediately. But you don’t.

He takes a moment to let your image ingrain in his mind, and that’s when he realizes you’re doing the same. It only makes sense, after all, you must be experiencing the same erosion as him.

The gloves are new. The gloves, and the brooch on your scarf; a resin cast petal set on a gold backing. It replaces the center of an inteyvat, holding your scarf closed around your shoulders.

There is no wave before you run off after your student. There are no words as you return to your illusion of life, and it cuts through his heart.

It cuts through his heart, because he can still feel your touch and past love lingering against his skin. He knows it’ll take more than nice words to earn your trust back, and he can only hope that you don’t wilt away before then.

#HBB radio #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact dainsleif #dainsleif #dainsleif x reader #x reader #gender neutral reader #oneshot #genshin impact oneshot #angst

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devils-dares · 11 months

Note

Hey, Dev! So, this is the request I mentioned I'd like to make, so here I am.

Well, I had this idea on a particularly shitty day after two specific scenes came to my mind, so basically I thought about Matt and the reader both having a bad day and then they do some couple stuff to comfort each other, you know? Just a bit of domesticity, taking a bath together and taking care of each other, cooking together and that kind of sweet couple things...

But the two specific scenes I have in mind are one where Matt and the reader dance in the kitchen (nothing too grand, more like hugging from behind and starting to dance a bit clumsily while doing something else, maybe also singing some song softly in the ear... I sort of imagine the reader doing this with Matt, but you can adapt if you want to)

But the precursor scene of this whole idea is basically one where Matt and the reader are cuddled together on the couch and watching some old cartoons that Matt used to watch when he was kid, with the reader doing the audio description for him.

It's just a pretty silly idea that seems comfortable to read and that I feel would be lovely in your writing but for some reason has become something special to me...

PS: I imagined this as Matt x male reader (because I'm basically basing it on something I'd love to do, I'm sorry for that), but you can adapt and make a gn reader if you prefer, whatever you judge best... I appreciate it in advance! :)

wordcount: 534

Matt tucked himself in bed next to you, a pained groan leaving his lips. He’d had a horrible day, both in and out of the office, and he’s taken… quite a beating when it came to his nightly activities. You reached out to him, only for him to take your hand and pull you to rest your head on his chest. It seemed like a good idea at the time, up until he hissed as you put your head in its rightful position.

“Sorry, love, forgot I bruised my ribs.” You shake your head at him, a sad smile on your face.

“It’s alright, how about we just sleep today off? Get a fresh start tomorrow, besides, it’s a weekend, we can spend all day together.”

“That sounds nice.” He says through a yawn.

He whimpers in his sleep, borderline cries are ripped from him as he tosses and turns, getting nothing but a turbulent night’s sleep.

-----

In the morning, you wake to the sound of a record playing and the smell of fresh coffee. You sit up against the headboard, rubbing at your eyes to shoo the sleep away, before slipping out of bed and joining Matt.

He must have been invested in whatever he was doing, because you were able to sneak up on him, wrapping your arms around him from behind and beginning to sway to the music. He jumps a little, immediately relaxing when you say his name in a sleepy voice.

“What are you doing up? You should be resting and healing.” You inquire.

“Got up early to meditate. I feel better already,” he says with a little laugh, “you ready for breakfast?”

“Let me freshen up, and then we can see what Chef Murdock has cooked up this fine Saturday morning.”

The two of you ate breakfast while laughing about everything that went wrong yesterday. Your problems spanned from getting a bunch of small paper cuts, to dropping an important file down the elevator shaft. You even got coffee spilled on your pants by your co-worker, and you didn’t have time to come home and change.

After washing and drying the dishes together and finally having the confidence that both of you are going to have a good day, Matt suggests a bath.

He settles in behind you, your back to his chest, and you immediately melt into his body under the warm water. He rubs at your shoulders, lazy kisses pressed against your bare skin and you sigh softly and sink even further into the water and into him, your eyes drooping closed.

“Sleepy?” He says, his voice groggy too.

“A little.”

“Then I propose a nap next.”

-----

Now, after sleeping beneath the sheets with each other in your arms, you two are on the couch sharing a blanket while you narrate your childhood cartoons to him. He smiles as laughs infiltrate your words, happy to hear you happy.

“I had a great day today.” You say, smiling at him during a commercial break.

“Yeah? So did I.” He leans over, kissing you soft and sweet. You settle back against him, narrating the cartoons in silly voices, feeling nothing but joy when they result in Matt’s laughs.

#matt murdock #matt murdock fluff #matt murdock fanfic #matt murdock drabble #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x you #matt murdock x male!reader #matt murdock x male reader #matt murdock x gn!reader #matt murdock x fem!reader #matt murdock x female reader #marvel #daredevil

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artemis32 · 2 years

Note

Hiya Artemis! I saw that you write for Jace!! may I perhaps request a Jace x reader fic?

Hi :)) Firstly I'm so sorry this took so long (and that it isn’t exactly a fic, but we’ll ignore that for now) ://

I shed a few tears writing this because you were quite vague and it stressed me out trying to figure out what to write - so I assumed a lot (this is mainly a dark content blog, so that’s what this is - kind of)

****

Lookism Masterlist

****

Jace never believed in “love at first sight”, he honestly thought it was a load of nonsense that people made up to convince themselves that they’d stay in a relationship forever.

Call him cynical, but he had a far more logical outlook on the world than that.

And to be fair, he wanted to believe it, he really did - but realistically speaking, no one could be stupid enough to fall in love the very first time they laid eyes on someone.

Except that’s exactly what happened to him when he met you.

You’re in a department that he’s not particularly familiar with, most likely the Baking department or the Computer department, located on the opposite side of the building furthest away from all the drama of everyday J High school.

By all rights, you should never have crossed paths with anyone in the Architecture department, and definitely not Jace of all people. But life had a funny way of presenting one with new opportunities.

For the sake of this storyline, let’s say you’re part of the Computer department - smart, withdrawn, overall you tend to keep to yourself.

(Baking department s/o is reserved solely for Vasco or Eli).

The Architecture department had decided to hold it’s first ever collaboration with the Computer department to design a small city - and for an extra twenty percent, build a mini diorama of the city - a project that would count sixty percent of your final mark. The key point of all of it was that it would be a project that would span the entire school year.

Naturally, you were a bit stressed. Having to rely on a group of strangers to pass wasn’t your idea of a good time, but you’d held out hope that everything would work out.

Students from both classes - second years only - were split up into groups: two members from each class paired together to make for a grand total of four people per group. Of course you had the wonderful luck of being paired with Vasco and Jace.

Surprisingly, you didn’t know who either of them were when you first met, not having heard about the infamous Burn Knuckles. Whether or not that would play in your favour was yet to be seen.

****

The first time Jace saw you, you were surrounded by computer monitors emitting cold, harsh light that brightened the otherwise dark room, and large stacks of textbooks scattered out across multiple desks.

He'd never been to this side of the school before, and the computer room was completely foreign to him, so much so that he felt slightly out of place - a feeling shared by many members of the Architecture department based off of the somewhat uncomfortable body language of many of his classmates.

They'd all filed in quietly, all on their best behaviour after the multiple threats they'd received for if they were to break anything.

Vasco had looked around awe, eyes wide and eagerly staring at the expensive monitors surrounding them. Jace had gently grabbed his arm and pulled him off to a semi hidden corner where two figures sat hunched over a shared computer, quietly arguing about something.

He cleared his throat as they neared the pair, waiting for them to turn around. Only one person turned to greet them, a tall boy wearing glasses, a hoodie, and multiple ear piercings. He gave them a slight nod of acknowledgement before turning back to the monitor.

Jace tried not to take offence from the dismissive behaviour of the two, coming to a halt directly behind the two seated people, introducing himself and Vasco before waiting for a response.

Silence rang out for a few long moments, longer than he was comfortable with, before you seemed to have a breakthrough moment, mumbling something while standing and turning to greet your two new group mates.

All Jace's complaints flew out the window the moment he made eye contact with you.

You gave them a small smile, awkwardly scratching your ear while you introduced yourself and your partner, apologising for the cold introduction.

Honestly, Jace barely heard a word you said - how could he when he was so breathless, so taken aback by you?

The light of the monitor reflected in your eyes, making them glow softly. Your smile was so pure apologetic, your body language so withdrawn yet confident. Most of all, you had this gleam in your eyes - something akin to wisdom, or maybe it was curiosity? He wasn't sure.

All he knew was that in that moment, in the dark, hollow computer room amongst the dust and wires, he fell in love with you. Of course you didn't know that, and he realised he didn't mind.

He had all the time in the world to win you over, and he was sure he would.

****

The first few months that all of you worked together, you and your partner seemed very professional and almost tense, never drifting from your polite language and good manners. If it had been anyone else, Jace likely wouldn't have minded, but he wanted to get to know you outside of your stiff working personality.

His opportunity came about one weekend when the four of you decided to take a Saturday to work on a few key problems in your project.

As fate would have it, Vasco caught a cold and your partner - Kyu - had some or other family trip planned. Jace was nervous and excited when you asked if he'd still be willing to meet up to get the work done.

This is was his chance - just the two of you, alone - he'd definitely be able to get to know you better.

And it ended exactly as Jace had hoped - he got to know you, really know you. You got to know him too.

He learnt that you were quite smart academically, that you enjoyed your classes far more than most people would think. He learnt small things like your favourite foods, colours, your hobbies and interests outside of school, he learnt about your family, your friends in the Computer department.

Honestly, he thought the whole day was pretty successful, and you seemed a lot more relaxed by the time the two of you parted ways - he may even go as far as to say the two of you were now friends.

Yes the relationship between the two of you was progressing a bit slower than he’d hoped, but any progress was better than none in his opinion.

The weeks following that were tentative, both of you slightly hesitant, neither one of you wanting to overstep boundaries, though likely for different reasons.

It all came to a head one day when the entirety of the Burn Knuckles, lead by Vasco as usual, confronted him about his apparent odd behaviour recently. It came as a shock to him since he didn’t realise how wrapped up he’d become with you and gaining your attention. Now that he thought about it, he truly had been spending most of his time with you.

With that realisation, he explained, somewhat embarrassedly, that he - Jace Park - had a crush and was at a loss of how to handle it. His confession shocked the Burn Knuckles into silence.

How could the brilliant Jace Park have problems navigating a crush? Whoever he liked surely must have been wonderful to have gained that kind of reaction.

So commenced a brainstorming session during which Jace was firmly told to suck it up and confess. After all, someone who was so clever and withdrawn wouldn’t want a man who tended to beat around the bush. No, the best route would be for Jace to just confess. And that’s exactly what he did.

****

Four months later, you still giggle at the memory of how much Jace had stuttered and blushed while he had confessed. He’d asked you to meet him at some cutesy café so that he could talk to you.

He’d been dressed up and squeaky clean, blushing and shaky when he stood up to greet you and help you into your seat. You didn’t mention it. You also didn’t mention that you’d seen his friends from the Architecture department peeking through the window ever since you’d arrived, or Vasco’s sub par disguise of a wig, fake beard and glasses.

Instead you got right to the point and asked him why he had asked you to meet him there on a weekend, originally assuming it had something to do with the project.

Although you couldn’t say you were surprised when, after some prompting on your end, he blurted out that he liked you and asked if you’d go out with him.

You were quiet for a bit, your silence scaring him half to death as he sat stiffly, barely daring to breath in fear of missing your answer.

After some seemingly careful deliberation, you said yes - that one simple word nearly gave Jace a stroke.

You think back on the memory fondly, likewise Jace turns red with embarrassment whenever you bring it up to tease him.

But regardless of how embarrassing it might have been, it led to the two of you having a relationship, and that's not something he'd trade in for anything, even to lose the embarrassment.

****

Of course the situation would never be as clean cut as that - not that you ever needed to know.

You never needed to find out that Jace knew everything about you before he asked you out.

Small things like your favourite colours or foods, or your weather preferences, or your favourite genre of movies.

Bigger things like where you lived, how many siblings you had, a list of all your friends and potential lovers, the layout of your house.

You definitely didn't need to know that Jace had long since scared off anyone that may have been interested in you, or that he'd spent months obsessing over the idea of you with him.

Not that it was much of a concern considering you'd likely never find out, especially not with Vasco and the entirety of the Burn Knuckles backing him, making sure he was happy.

If you made him happy, who were they to get in his way? In fact, it was their duty to help him in any way they could, including getting rid of any "competition" and helping him win you over. You made it easy for all of them by agreeing to date him right off the bat.

No one concerns themselves with the idea of what would have happened had you said no, or if you were to try and leave Jace - it was better for them to leave all of the planning to Jace himself after all.

Overall he's actually quite a lovely partner - he's very considerate and kind towards you, always giving you small gifts and snacks and taking you out on dates (study dates, cafe dates, picnic dates, arcade dates, you name it).

He celebrates everything that makes you happy, every milestone and achievement that you experience, and he tries his best to understand your hobbies and interests.

Your family adores him, and they're happy that you managed to attract such a handsome, charming young man - their words, not yours.

Burn Knuckles really like you too, mainly because you make Jace so happy. They also make sure you're safe whenever Jace isn't around.

Honestly 10/10, Jace is amazing and he wouldn't be too controlling or crazy, being around you is enough to keep him happy.

#lookism #jace park #yandere #dark content #female reader #yandere jace park #yandere jace park x reader #yandere jace x reader #yandere jace #jace #jace park lookism #yandere lookism #yandere x reader

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extremelyblackandwhite · 2 years

Note

hey bea <3 can we get a dbf jealous Bucky??

pairing: dad's best friend!bucky x reader

warnings: smut (18+), large age gape (reader is in her early 20s, bucky is in his late 30s), possessiveness

James Barnes was the type of man one would call a permanent bachelor; he had a luxurious penthouse in Brooklyn, a handsome face which appeared to be carved by the gods themselves, a comfortable, high standing position as at partner at a prestigious law firm and a swarm of women who came in and out of his office and home yet never returned. He was the man women wanted and craved, the type of portrait they’d paint when looking for their perfect partner but James had never been the one to fulfil those ideals. No, James Barnes did not indulge in relationship bliss or particularly cared about it. He was happy, he had everything he wanted and if he wanted more he could purchase it. They used to say you can’t buy love but his own position in society attracted and purchased that love pretty easily. He didn’t meant to be pompous when he said that love was easily attained to him, he could be loved for the night and at any hour if he chose to. He just didn’t need it. However, there was one exception to this rule. There was someone whom he wanted to love and be loved back no matter the time of the day and that someone was strictly off limits. Y/N.

Y/N was an indescribable as a woman could be, shrouded in mystery with a mind that no one but herself could read. She was the great deceiver as Bucky would refer to her, portraying different version of her to different people in order to extract what she wanted. Perhaps only Y/N knew who she was but Bucky couldn’t help but be enthralled by her. Usually, he would’ve just talked himself out of this harmless infatuation with her, yet after a particularly rough night of him drinking half a bottle of scotch while trying to sort out a company major and her coming into the office to collect some files from the office for her father using a sheer dress, the two had ended up having sex on top of his mahogany desk. In his defense, he had thought she was nothing but a personal assistant or a new secretary until he saw her at Michael’s barbecue party. Now, here he was at yet another party, watching her converse with anyone and everyone who wasn’t him.

Right now she was chatting with a boy who appeared to be her age, or at least in the same age range at her, her hands playing with the hem of her floral dress. He head was slightly tilted to the side as she laughed at whatever he was telling her, the red solo cup hanging off her hand.

- Can you believe it? - her father walked up to him, handing him another cold beer. Yet Bucky doubted any of the alcohol in this party was gonna make him forget that she had been flirting with this guy for the past half hour. - I don’t think I’ll ever be ready to watch my kid flirt.

- You don’t think she flirts when she’s not home?

- I know she does, I’d just rather be blissfully unaware. - he took a sip of his beer.

Bucky would rather not know about her personal life. He felt the more he knew about her, the more he became possessive of her. Truth was, Y/N was the type of woman that he wanted, or maybe she just happened to be the woman he wanted. She’d moved to Manhattan from the suburbs after graduation and was now financially independent from her parents. She was not a social climber, she was happy in her own independence and flaunted it whenever she felt like it. He couldn’t help but stare at her whenever she came into the office to have lunch with her father, smooth legs barely hidden by her dresses and skirts. She’d been the fantasy in his dreams for way too long now and ever since fucking her on his mahogany desk, all he wanted was to fuck her again. However, she was off limits, she had to be off limits. Last thing he wanted was to get into trouble at the firm because he was sleeping around with his best friend’s daughter. Part of him merely rolled his eyes at the morality, it wasn’t as if he had known who she was when they slept together or like he had met her when she was a child. No, Bucky had only known of her right after graduation and until that doomed barbecue, she had remained as a sweet memory he’d masturbate to at night.

He finally gained enough alcohol in his system to decide to approach her. Perhaps the mix of alcohol and no food in his system was the reason why he’d done it so fast as in any stable condition he would’ve not.

- Y/N. - he spoke out her name, approaching her as she moved to grab another drink from the cooler. She looked over her shoulder, like a seductress before turning around. - You look good.

- Mr. Barnes. - she greeted him with that casual cruelty which she used for any stranger who accosted her. City habit, he gathered. - I see you’ve made it to yet another family gathering without being family.

- I’m your father’s best friend. Aren’t friends your family as well?

- You don’t see me inviting any friends, do you?

- What would you call the boy you’ve spent the whole afternoon speaking with? A boyfriend?

- Clearly you of all people would struggle to understand human connection other than sex, wouldn’t you?

- There’s a reason why I’m a business lawyer and not a marital one.

- And there is also a reason why this conversation is over. Nice talking with you, Mr. Barnes.

Bucky wanted to be upset at her behaviour but he also knew she had every right in the book to be upset at him. It was his fault really, he’d been the one to promise to call her only to ignore her after figuring out who she was. What would she have him do? Go against his best friend behind his back? Besides, Bucky Barnes was never one to dwell on a woman - at least, he thought he’d never been been one to dwell on a woman. She was proving to be the exception.

He downed yet another beer once he saw her laugh with the same boy, her hand on his shoulder as if he was the funniest person in the party. He reluctantly joined his friend, listening to some pointless stories until the table was set for some late summer barbecue dinning.

- Y/N, sweetheart? - her mother patted her on the back. - Can you get a couple more beer cases from the basement?

- Mum ...

- James can help you. - as if that made it any better. However, he guessed anything was better than watching her flirt with that clueless boy.

She begrudgingly got off the table with Bucky hot on her trail as they went down the stairs to the basement. The last thing she wanted was to be anywhere near James Barnes. He was devilish handsome and she had to admit he had a certain talent when it came to his fingers and mouth; but he was also the most arrogant man she’d even had the pleasure of encountering. She knew the type - womanizer to a fault, an eternal bachelor who had no need in finding a relationship. However, when someone promises to call, she expects a call, not to find him at a family event. Life sure knew how to be funny.

- So ... - he kicked one of the beer cases. - Who’s the kid if not your friend?

- He’s 28, Mr. Barnes. I wouldn’t qualify that as a kid, yet again everyone is a kid to you.

- Didn’t answer my question, baby. - he moved towards her.

- The lawyer card doesn’t work on me. Why don’t you ask me the question you wanna ask?

- Are you fucking him?

He was abrupt and brazen, after all there was a reason why he was such a good lawyer and such a good charmer. Nevertheless, it took her by surprise and the closer he got to her, the more she was reminded of that night. Suddenly, she could feel how his hands had wrapped around her waist, throwing her over his desk before thrusting into her as if he depended on her. It was neurotic, he fucked her like he needed her. She hated him, but late at night, he would envade her thoughts like a sensual mist. She would lay down in bed and picture him, laid in his own bed, gripping and pumping.

- Do you keep a tracked list of who I sleep with?

- I don’t have to, baby. - he hooked his pointer finger under her chin, his thumb gripping it up. - Even if you are fucking him, I know it’s not as good as I can.

- Really? - she titled her head to the side, her hand moving up his chest. - Because last night, I could tell you just how satisfied I was with his head between my ...

Her sentence was cut short as he wrapped his hand around her throat and pushed her against the wall. His nostrils flared as if he were a poked caged animal and the once bright blue eyes which were so characteristic to him darkened.

- Go on, baby, lie to me again.

- You weren’t that good, baby. - he said every word defiantly, taunting him at the end.

The moment that last word was out of her rose coloured lips, the moment Bucky enveloped his arms around her, destroying any illusion of restraint and properness. She opened her mouth and his tongue broke in, the kiss needy and punishing for her words. There was no more hiding the two of them were pining for one another; but this wasn’t sweet and soft, it was angry. It was desperation. She moaned, unable to control herself, and that sound was his own undoing as her nails scratched his scalp.

Her hands did quick work of ridding him of his belt and pants, before pushing his shirt off him. His hands got busy riding her of her dress, pushing it down to her feet. The two of them were sure to regret it tomorrow; her by reopening a wound which she mostly pretended wasn’t there and him by tasting something he knew he shouldn’t. She wrapped her legs around his middle, and moaned again as he pressed himself between her thighs. He grounded into her, groaning into her mouth as he felt her wet panties.

- What would daddy say if he knew? - he moaned into her mouth as she cupped him through his underwear. - What if he knew his little girl is about to be fucked in the basement?

She couldn’t say anything, she was too drunk on the mere idea of it, pushing his underwear down before guiding him to her entrance. She moaned once he entered her, the sensation sweet and pleasurable enough but Bucky didn’t mean to remain there for too much. Oh, she thought she could spite him? No. He grabbed her hips and started to thrust in and out of her, in an animalistic pace, her back rubbing against the wall.

- Do you think your stupid boy toys can make you cum? - she bared her neck to him. - Hm, answer me, you little slut.

- No. - she whined as he kissed and bite down her neck, hard enough to leave marks. If someone questioned it, he always had an alibi and the moment that stupid kid looked at her, he would know. He would know no matter what he did, he’d never satisfy her.

- That’s right. - he smirked while rutting into her. - Because you’re my little whore, only I can make you cum.

- Fuck. - she cried out as his thumb began to rub her clit. - Buck ...

- It’s Mr. Barnes to you. - he corrected her, stilting his movements. - Come on. Say it, tell me who can make you cum.

- You can.

- Good girl.

Her hips arced toward him, begging for movement, for the feel of his textured cock against her warm walls. He gritted his teeth, chest heaving, as his grip bruised her body, her walls contracting against his cock. He hissed, the sensation too sweet not to send him over the edge. Another punishing stroke in her and he erupted. His slow thrusts slowly died down but he continued to rub her clit, watching her lips and chest raise, just enough, just to the point where she felt as if she was gonna explode, only to stop.

- Too eager for it, aren’t you, baby?

- Please. - she whined.

- Next time, don’t parade your little boy toys around me.

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

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lsdunesarchive · 11 months

Text

How (Don’t Call ‘Em a Supergroup) L.S. Dunes Saved Its Own Members’ Lives

Words by Cassie Whitt Photo by Mark Beemer November 4, 2022

For anti-supergroup L.S. Dunes, the magnetism of friendship and love of their craft made coming together a no-brainer, especially during a particularly turbulent moment for the industry and within their personal lives.

In this excerpt from a conversation with drummer Tucker Rule (Thursday) and vocalist Anthony Green (Circa Survive) we learn just how much swapping sound files during a global pandemic helped heal their hearts and minds.

The band's lineup is a scene dream, also comprised of guitarist Frank Iero (My Chemical Romance), guitarist Travis Stever (Coheed & Cambria) and bassist Tim Payne (Thursday), and while fans may be quick to brand them a supergroup, that's not the sentiment these members harbor. It isn't about assembling an all-star band as the scene equivalent of the Justice League superheroes and more about bonding with like-minded musicians and, more importantly, dear friends.

Being cutoff from our regular social circles and points of contact helped frame a new perspective for us all amid the pandemic, and losing out on this essential element of the human experience led Green in particular down dark paths. Prioritizing mental health, and with the support of his L.S. Dunes bandmates, he confronted these issues and is grateful to have bettered his relationships as a result.

Get your copy of L.S. Dunes' 'Past Lives' album (out Nov. 11) here and follow the band on Instagram, Twitter, Facebook and Spotify.

They're not a supergroup, they're SUPER BUDS!

TUCKER RULE: All of us in our bands are the ones that are heads-down, want to write music and enjoy playing music. That's why we all have multiple bands.

When we get together, we joke about the "L.S." standing for "low stress" because we just want it to be fun. People love to throw around the term "supergroup," and we don't like that. We're a group of super buds, and this is just our circle of friendship. It's not like, "Oh, we've got to get the guy from Coheed and the guy from Circa and the guy from MCR..." These are my dudes and I know we get along musically.

Another thing with "supergroup" is that [people think], "Oh, they're just going do one show here and one show there." Why start a band if you're not going to go bring it out live? That's our goal — to play as much as we can. This is another full time job.

ANTHONY GREEN: I don't really get to have many friends that are outside of this business. It kind of sucks because you end up feeling kind of lonely when you're not working or when you're home.

Once we started connecting more, it was like, “Man, I'm talking to Tucker every other day.” I didn't realize how much I was lacking in my life. It's hard to even find two people that connect on a creative and personal way level so that they can make stuff, so when people have bands that are so good together, it's like, “These guys just bring out the best in each other!”

It’s hard to find people that creatively mesh well, and this is five people who fit together creatively just perfectly.

L.S. Dunes, "Permanent Rebellion" Music Video

youtube

It's not business, it's personal

AG: If at any moment Travis called us and was like, "Hey, I'm going through this and I need X, Y, and Z," that's the most important thing from the get-go. No matter what comes our way, we're able to deal with it because we're not looking at this like it's a business, we're looking at it like this big art project.

We all know from our other bands that when you have a business that's run cutthroat where it's about the bottom line or getting as many streams, or making as much money, it can become convoluted. Whereas, if you have a situation where everybody's just looking out for one another because of the fact that this is an emotionally driven band where we're processing a lot of really heavy shit together, you end up feeling so safe and secure and strong because you know that everybody has your back.

The most important thing is that everybody's mental health and personal relationships. Everybody's life is more important than just a song or a stream. That makes a project strong and fun... and no one's judging [personally or creatively].

Creativity is life-sustaining

TR: I would wake up or go to bed hoping somebody would write a riff so I could wake up in the morning and get to work on it [laughs]. And vice versa — I would write a drum beat and send it out and I'd be like, "Please, somebody work on this" and then I'd get something back. It [felt] like it was Christmas and it was during COVID, too, so there was very little to look forward to.

I think it saved all of our lives, to be honest with you.

It was a time where none of us knew what was going to happen with our industry. I know everybody had it rough and all industries suffered, but I can only speak for myself and the music industry was in shambles. We knew that it might not come back for a really long time and we had no idea how we were all going to make money. When you've done this for 20 years, you kind of get really good at it and not good at other things. For me, getting another job was not an option.

All of us are dads and at that time I had an infant. I was trying to figure out how to make money and was writing these songs with these dudes that I love, not thinking that we would make money from it.

So, why did it save our lives? It was like this was out of necessity to feel like we were a part of something, again.

L.S. Dunes, "2022" Music Video

youtube

Even so, life was still very challenging through all this

AG: We got laid off [amid the pandemic]. People were talking about when shows come back or when things reopened, but it was so scary [having the mindset of], "Okay, well let's save up until everything comes back," and then I was just like, "Hey, this is never going come back. It's never going to be like it was and we're going have to get used to playing through our computers." It was almost like a comforting thing for me to close the book on that chapter in my life.

I was so depressed. I had been going to AA and NA meetings where you make a pretty hardcore connection with other addicts and people who are struggling and that was gone. My therapist was not seeing people face to face. Yeah. [This band] was almost like an excuse to miss therapy a bunch.

I was also diagnosed as bipolar shortly after my my overdose. I was struggling with it, and I didn't want to admit that I was bipolar. I was really scared of even saying it. It's crazy to think about it now, but I just didn't want anybody to know. I wasn't medicating at all, and I was trying to figure out how to go through life without getting fucked up to deal with my problems, but also not doing any of the recommended things that you do to manage bipolar.

I was in this manic low, hallucinating, and this project coming to me at that moment... I hate saying this because your kids are the reason why you want to live... I thought my kids would be better off without me. I was convinced that I was just going to be a bad dad, and that I was going hurt them at some point.

That's what friends are for

If I didn't change my shit, I would've [wound up hurting them in some way], but the faith that Tucker, Tim, Frank and Travis had in me really did so much for my confidence and did so much for me in that moment and in those few months. It was like a fucking life preserver. I wasn't looking at my family, my life and my career as something worth fighting for. I was just so lost and there was so much joy anchored in the fact that I had this band that wanted to make songs with me, that believed in me, that wanted me to be in their group.

It really helped me see that my kids would be better if I got my shit together and went to therapy and figured out how to maintain. My family and my friendships would all be better—nobody'd be better off if I was dead.

When you don't see that yourself sometimes, it takes somebody else reminding you. And these guys did that and the songs did that. This band and these songs were like a little box of sanity. It became like a drug, almost. When I was feeling crazy, I would think about the fact that we had this thing that we were building and it would bring me back to earth every time.

Thanks to Tucker Rule and Anthony Green for the interview. Get your copy of 'Past Lives' album (out Nov. 11) here.

#ls dunes #m: anthony green #m: tucker rule #lsd: 2022 #in: nov/22 #t: photo #misc: interview #t: text #p: loudwire #archive[ane]

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sequinsmile-x · 2 years

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“This is not who you are. I know you better than that.” maybe surrounding the doyle ark. she’s acting off and he wants to know what’s going on or maybe after when they’re in the hospital? up to u

Oh hey anon!

Went in a different direction with this, because it ended up fitting with an idea I already had. But there are mentions of the Doyle arc <3

-x-

Honour

Aaron comes to Emily's defence, and they have a long overdue conversation.

Words: 4.1k

Warnings: Misogyny, misogynistic language, mentions of violence

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut!

“I cannot believe you made me come to this.”

Aaron turns to look at Emily, smiling at her over the top of his glass of champagne. “I didn’t exactly have to try hard to convince you.”

Emily rolls her eyes at him and takes a sip of her own drink. “You tricked me.”

“I tricked you?” He asks, an eyebrow raised at her.

“You made Jack ask me if I was coming to this with you,” she quips, her shoulder knocking against his, “you know I can’t say no to that son of yours.” She looks around the ballroom and grimaces, the room filled with other FBI agents and politicians. “You’re just lucky you look good in a tux,” she says, looking back at him, “and that my mother is overseas and therefore not here.”

It was the first thing she had checked when he asked if she’d come to this event with him, uneasy with the idea of coming alone. It was one part of being in a relationship that he missed, a partner that would be by his side, in serious moments as well as at things like this.

Emily had been the obvious choice. She was his friend, probably his best one if he thought about it, and she was good at this. Despite how much she hated politics she excelled at it. And it didn’t hurt that she was beautiful, something he had always noticed - even back when he was a married man. She looked particularly ethereal this evening, her dark green and flowing dress accentuating her every curve, making her skin look even more alluring than usual.

“Well,” Aaron says, smiling at her as he ignores the pull in his belly when she smiles back, “I owe you one.”

“You’ll be less smug when I make you come to Mother’s Holiday party with me.” She replies, laughing when he recoils slightly. “Turnabout is fair play.”

He tries not to think too much about the fact she’s just invited him to an event that wouldn’t take place for another six months, another thing he files away in the place in his head just for Emily. All of the moments between them that he found himself overthinking when he couldn’t sleep at night.

Aaron wasn’t sure when, but at some point along the way he had fallen in love with her. He tried to pinpoint whenever he could, to think of the moment that made him realise his feelings for her were more than they should have been. He always came up empty, his love for her now such a part of him that he wonders if it had always been there. Hidden away in his heart until it was coaxed out by her smile, her kindness.

Sometimes he considered just kissing her, fleeting moments when he was sure she felt the same, but he always held back. She was more delicate after Paris, holding herself back in a way he wasn’t used to, and he didn’t want to scare her off. To make her back away.

She was an integral part of his life, and he’d rather have her as a friend than not at all.

“You ok, Aaron?” She asks, her hand on his arm as she looks at him, a small amount of concern in her eyes.

He clears his throat and he nods, placing his nearly empty glass down on the table. “I’m ok. I’m just going to go to the bathroom.”

He needed a tiny bit of space, a few seconds to clear his mind before he did something stupid like kiss her in front of several of their colleagues and some senators.

“What?” She asks through her teeth. “You can’t leave me here.”

“Emily,” he says, an affectionate smile on his face as he places his hand over hers on his arm, “I’ll be 5 minutes. If I’m any longer you can come look for me.”

She huffs. “Fine, but get me another drink on your way back, ok?”

He smiles at her, nodding as he moves away, a familiar feeling of emptiness spreading through him when her hand falls from his arm.

“Anything you want.”

___

He’s leaving the bathroom, readjusting his jacket when he hears it. Familiar voices from work in the hallway. He looks over to see two agents he recognises, Parks and Davis, both men clearly less than sober, obvious even from where he was standing.

Aaron knows he should probably make a point of speaking to them now he has seen them, that Strauss will have his neck if she finds out he only spoke to Emily all evening. His boss had already pulled him aside and asked him if something was going on between the two of them, seemingly not as opposed to the idea as he knew she once would have been.

He’s about to gain the attention of the other two men when he hears what they are talking about, frozen to the spot as he feels fury start to burn him from the inside out.

“Did you see that Hotchner brought her?” Agent Parks asks, taking a sip of his drink, a slight scowl on his face.

“I heard that they’re together now.” Agent Davis replies, swigging his own drink, his balance slightly off.

Agent Parks scoffs, shaking his head. “Wouldn’t surprise me, we all know it’s not the first time she’s fucked someone to get what she wants.”

“What did you just say?” Aaron asks, announcing his presence, his anger forcing the words out before he could stop them.

Agent Davis looks like a deer in headlights, taking a step back as Aaron approaches them, but Agent Parks stands firm, the alcohol in his system making him brave and stupid in equal measure. He scoffs at Aaron, shaking his head.

“We all know what your girlfriend did with Doyle, Hotchner.” He says, taking another step closer. “It’s not my fault she’s a who-”

“Chris-” Agent Davis says, trying to warn his friend of the line he was crossing, but Aaron is faster. His fists no longer clenched tightly at his sides. He grabs at the lapel of Agent Parks shirt, grateful in a fleeting moment of coherent thought that the hallway is mercifully empty.

“I’d think carefully before I said anything else if I were you.” He seethes, words forced through his teeth. It doesn’t occur to him to correct him on his and Emily’s relationship status, knowing it would achieve nothing anyway. His anger at someone speaking about her in such a way taking over everything else.

Agent Parks laughs at him, and for a second he’s back in his old house, looming over Foyet as he did the same, and he pulls his fist back, ready to hit him, when he’s pulled out of it.

“Aaron?” Emily exclaims from behind them, and he turns, Agent Parks still in his grasp, and she’s running towards them. “What the hell is going on here?”

He releases the other man immediately, the reality of where they were hitting him all at once.

“He attacked me for no reason.” Agent Parks says, straightening out his jacket. Emily turns to look at him, her eyes narrowed.

“Why don’t I believe that for a second, Parks.” She says, her hand on Aaron’s arm. He knows she must be able to sense how tense he is, how he’s still vibrating with a rage that he was barely keeping under control. “Get out of here,” she raises a brow when they don’t move, “or I’ll just let him carry on as if I hadn’t walked over here.”

The other two men walk away quickly, insults thrown at the both of them over their shoulders. Emily looks at Aaron once they are out of sight, and his eyes are fixed on the ground.

“Aaron-”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” He says, cutting her off before he can go any further. He knows she’ll get it out of him if she tries hard enough, and he doesn’t want her to. Doesn’t want to repeat the words he’d heard. The last thing he wanted to do was upset her.

“You shouldn’t pay any attention to him.” Emily says, trying to placate him, her hand on his arm, trying to squeeze the tense muscle, as if she could wring out the anger. The tension. “He asked me out once.”

He frowns at her. “What?”

“Chris Parks.” She replies, a wry smile on her face. “He asked me out, a couple of years ago. I said no,” she rolls her eyes, “he’s been an asshole ever since.”

He knows she’s attempting to distract him, to cheer him up somehow, but it makes it worse. The knowledge that some of the other man's bitterness comes from rejection, and it makes him want to find him and finish what he started.

Emily stops him again, her voice the balm it felt like his heart needed.

“Aaron.” She reaches out for him and grabs his hand frowning when she does so, she turns his hand over and winces. “You’re bleeding.”

He looks down at his palms, both now facing upwards, and he sees spots of bright red blood, crescent marks on his skin from his nails that he didn’t even feel. He still doesn’t speak, can’t trust himself to do it.

“Shall we go?” She asks. “Back to mine?”

He nods in response, and forces a tight smile at her when she loops her arm through his and leads him towards the exit.

His only thought when they wait for the valet to bring the car around is that he somehow loves her even more than he thought he did.

___

Emily watches him carefully as she opens the door to her apartment, letting him through first before she closes it softly, sliding the lock across as he stands a few paces ahead of her. He’s still tense, his body vibrating with it, his jaw clenched tight. She swallows thickly and puts her purse down on the side table.

“You should go sit down, I’ll grab the first aid kit.” She says, her hand gentle at his back as she guides him unnecessarily into her home, as if he wasn’t here every week.

“Em,” he sighs, letting her lead him towards the couch, as if he couldn’t stop her in an instant if he wanted to, “it’s fine. It’s not even bleeding anymore.” He says, indicating to his palms, the crescent shape marks left behind by his nails no longer actively bleeding, red lines left across his skin.

“Still,” she says, flashing him a smile, “I should still clean them.”

Aaron nods, knowing he would not win this argument with her and sits down. She makes quick work of going to her bathroom and grabbing the kit from the medicine cabinet, not wanting to leave him alone for too long. When she re-enters the living room he’s sitting on her couch, his head in his hands as his elbows rest on his knees. She sits next to him, angling her body as close as she can, and she reaches out for him, grabbing one of his wrists to pull his hand towards her.

“Come on,” she says softly, “let me see.” She looks at the palm of his hand, her touch delicate against the damaged skin as she runs over it with a wipe. She tries to ignore how holding his hand in hers, even in these circumstances, makes her stomach flip. Feelings she knows she can’t afford to feel bubbling up so quickly they threaten to boil over. Spill out onto her living room floor in front of him, something she would not be able to put back away.

The line between friendship and something more was a fine one, and they walked it like a tightrope. She wondered when one of them would be brave enough to make the fall.

The silence around them feels stifling, awkward in a way it hadn’t been in so long. Only last week they’d sat on his couch in silence, a movie on which they were both feigning interest in, just enjoying each other's company.

“Sorry if it stings.” She says, feeling the need to speak, to break the tension she didn’t understand.

“It doesn’t.” He replies, flashing a tight smile at her as she switches to the other hand, showing the same due diligence she had to the first.

“Are you going to tell me what happened?” She asks, finishing up her task and throwing the used wipes onto her coffee table, making a mental note to clean them up later. All of her focus was on figuring out what the hell had happened in the five minutes she had been away from him earlier.

“No.” He answers, his voice firm. An attempt to leave no room for argument, as if the conversation was over.

As if he had forgotten who he was speaking to.

“Aaron-”

“Emily-”

“No,” she exclaims, her hand reaching out for his as she stops him from cutting her off, “you were going to punch that guy, Aaron.” She says, shaking her head. “You don’t do that. This is not who you are.” She squeezes his hand and it makes him look at her. “I know you better than that.”

She’d only seen him lose control like that once before. Years ago when she had walked in behind Derek to find Aaron hitting what was left of Foyet’s face. His rage taking over his usual self control, the loss of the woman he loved overpowering everything.

Emily feels her throat go dry, her heart skipping a beat in her chest. She remembers Clyde telling her off-handedly, like it was some kind of joke, that Aaron had threatened him when the team was looking for her. As if Aaron couldn’t tear the man apart without breaking a sweat if he wanted to.

It starts to fit together in her head, pieces falling into place to create the whole picture she thinks she should have seen weeks ago.

“Was it…” she starts, drifting off as her confidence briefly wanes, but she pushes through, determined to get an answer one way or the other, “was it about me?” The look on his face tells him everything she needs it to, and she closes her eyes as she sighs. “Aaron-”

“I overheard him talking about you.” He says, his voice even, flat, as if the mere memory of what had been said was making the anger he had felt build back up. “He shouldn’t be saying that about anyone. We’re supposed to have integrity…”he drifts off, clenching his teeth briefly as he blows out a breath, steading himself before he carries on, “he shouldn’t have said it. He definitely shouldn’t have said it about you.”

She stares at him, biting her lower lip as she waits him out, but his gaze remains fixed on their joint hands in her lap. She raises her other hand and cups his cheek, this kind of gentle affection becoming more commonplace for them, and she makes him look at her.

“What did he say Aaron?”

She thinks she knows. Agent Parks and his buddies had a lot to say about her, they had done for long before Ian Doyle crashed back through her life. She would often overhear them, as she knew they intended her to, or see looks they would give each other as she walked into a room. They were easy to read, as if they forgot what team she was on, what she did for a living.

He stays silent, his eyes fixed on hers as he shakes his head slightly. A silent refusal to repeat what he’d heard that makes frustration she knows she shouldn’t aim at him rise in her chest. She didn’t want him to protect her, didn’t need him to.

All she wanted was for him to love her. It’s all she’d wanted for months now, years if she was honest with herself. She still remembered how it felt after leaving him in hospital after Foyet. She had been the last one to leave. Forced out by a nurse who didn’t care about her badge or gun hours after the rest of the team had left, hesitant to leave him alone even though he was sleeping. When she got home that evening she cried. The phantom feeling of his blood encrusted shirt in her hands as she came to terms with the fact she had fallen in love with her boss.

She made sure to channel that love into something practical. Helping him through his recovery, driving him to and from work when he first got back. Looking after him and Jack after Haley died. They slowly got closer after that, and before Ian escaped from prison she half convinced herself that Aaron loved her too. When she came back from Paris, her hope tasting like poison in her mouth, she waited for something to happen. But it didn’t.

They both talked around it so much, always standing at the precipice of something, but never taking the final step. They’d both been hurt, kicked around by the worst of what life could throw at them, and they were being cautious. But Aaron had almost punched a man for simply saying something negative about her.

The time for being cautious was long gone.

“It was about Ian, wasn’t it?” She asks, and again the look on his face tells her she’s right. Her hand drops from his chin and she rubs it across her own face, paying no mind to the make up she’d meticulously applied only hours ago. “Aaron,” she sighs, her frustration seeping into her voice, “I don’t need you to protect me.”

“What are you suggesting I do?” He replies, finally finding his voice. A sternness to it that lets her know he’s on edge, that he’s trying to maintain his composure. He looks back down at their joint hands, holding hers a little tighter in case she pulls away. “Walk away when I hear someone call you a whore?” He spits out the last word like it was bitter.

“Yes.” She answers simply, clearing her throat. “I do.”

He looks up at her so quickly she swears she can hear his neck crack, and is sure that it must have hurt. “Em…”

She smiles sadly, a humourless chuckle escaping as she tilts her head slightly at him. “You can’t possibly think that's the first time someone has said that.” She shakes her head slightly. “Ever since I came back from Paris I keep hearing it. At first I thought I was imagining people looking at me, a hangover from knowing Ian was back and then being in hiding, you know?” She looks down at her lap, squeezing his hand in hers. “Then I realised people were stopping conversations when I walked into the break room, then after a while they didn’t even bother stopping.”

“Em.” He says, the repeated use of her name makes her look up, and she sees the shine to his eyes, the look on his face that she had only seen a handful of times. Devastation. She hates herself for putting it there.

“I know you tried your best to keep everything that happened between Ian and I when I was with him underwraps, but it didn’t work.” She smiles wryly. “And people don’t speak ill of the dead, so they wouldn’t have said it when they thought I was. But they don’t have the same courtesy for the living.”

“You should have told me.” Aaron says, his eyes staring straight into hers.

“And said what? ‘The other kids are calling me names, sir?’” She shakes her head and rolls her eyes. “It’s fine.” She scoffs. “I was the permanent new kid growing up, I’m used to it.”

“It isn’t fine, sweethe-” he pauses, clearing his throat, “Emily.” He reaches out for her, his hand cupping her neck, his thumb delicate against her jaw line. “You don’t have to pretend it doesn’t hurt. Not with me.”

Emily stares at him for a second before nodding, tears filling her eyes so quickly her vision goes blurry. She leans in to hug him, her head against his shoulder as she seeks out the comfort she wasn’t even aware she had wanted. She feels his hand move from her neck to the back of her head, holding her in place as if she would want to be anywhere else.

Aaron kisses the top of her head and holds her closer, releasing her hand so he could all but pull her into his lap.

“You have to tell me about this kind of thing,” he says, his thumb tracing gently on the back of her head, “so I can fix it.”

She chuckles against him, her words muffled by his jacket. “What, as my boss? Yell at them for me if they upset me?”

“No.” Aaron replies. “As your friend.”

She pulls back from him, just enough so she’s looking at him. Their noses are almost touching, and she can’t help it when her eyes flick down to his lips.

She doesn’t miss how his eyes do the same to hers. He reaches up and wipes a tear away from her face, his calloused skin gentle against her cheek.

She takes the leap, and just hopes he’ll catch her.

“Is that what we are, Aaron?” She asks breathlessly, her voice rougher than she thought it would be. “Friends?”

His answer is to lean forward and kiss her. Everything else fades away and all she can feel is him. His lips against hers, her nose pressing into his cheek, his hand buried in her hair. She shifts so her hands are on either side of his face, holding him in place. When they pull apart, only when oxygen becomes an issue, she gasps, her forehead against his as she tries to remind herself to breathe.

It’s silent for a moment, as both of them try to figure out what this means, what comes next.

“Did you almost call me sweetheart?” She asks, pulling back to look at him, still anchored to him in every other way, her eyebrow raised

He grimaces slightly, taken aback that of all the things she could have chosen to say after their first kiss, that was what she had settled on.

“You caught that?”

Emily smiles. “Nothing gets past me.”

He laughs and shakes his head at her, and they sober immediately, his eyes meeting hers.

“What does this mean, Em?”

“Well,” she says, moving a hand to run through his short hair, her nails blunt against his scalp, “I think it means we need to have a conversation in the morning about us, and what happens next.” She leans forward and kisses him again, a brief thing, emboldened by how it felt to just be in his arms. “I think we might both be on the same page about a few things. About a lot of things.”

She can’t say she loves him, not tonight. Not when their emotions were still all over the place. She would never want him to assume it was out of some kind of twisted gratefulness for him defending her honour.

It was real, and it could wait until the morning.

“I think so too.” His hand on her hip tightens its hold slightly, a small smile spreading on his face. “In the morning?”

She nods. “In the morning.” She shifts so she’s sitting properly in his lap, the material of her dress shimmying further up her legs. “In the meantime though…”she says, biting her lower lip, “I think you should kiss me again.”

He raises an eyebrow at her. “You do, do you?”

She nods, her smile widening. “You’re very good at it.” She leans forward to kiss him again, but stops just before her lips reach his she stops, pulling back to look at him. “If we do this Aaron, I don’t need you to protect me, or defend my honour, ok?” She says, her eyes searching his. “I just need you.” She runs her hand through his hair. “So no more trying to punch people for me, ok? If It needs doing I’m more than capable of doing it myself.”

He stares at her for a moment, as if he was trying to think of a way to argue with her, the alpha male in him he did a poor job of covering wanting to protect her, long before she was his to protect. Eventually he nods.

“Ok.”

She beams at him, and his smile widens.

“Good.” She says, leaning in to him again, her lips brushing against his. “Now, where were we?”

-x-

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thespiceyoops · 2 years

Text

Better Than Boarding School

Chapter 6

Series Pairing: Eddie Munson x Female Harrington Reader

Series Summary: When a particularly destructive year of partying leaves your parents threatening to ship you off to a fancy boarding school your Aunt and Uncle save the day by offering to take you in and let you spend your final year of high school at Hawkins High with your cousin Steve. Much to the poor boys dismay you immediately gravitate towards Eddie Munson and his band of misfits. What could possibly go wrong!

A/N: Bully’s are mean and I just love the idea of Dustin lowkey being good at weird things like cutting hair.

CW: Lots of angst, bullying, threatening with a weapon,

Series Status: In Progress

Word Count: 2.6k

Chapter 6

You skip out of your last class Friday afternoon, knowing you won’t be able to focus anyways and head to one of the bathrooms in a lost corner of the school to relax and get ready for your date. Eddie had vanished with the last lunch bell leaving you with a peck on the back of your hand and a promise to pick you up at 3pm sharp. The only hint he had given on the nature of the date was that there would be dancing, good enough start, as this was an apology for the missed party you decide to play on the guilt a little and mimic the outfit you’d worn that fateful night at Steve's. You’re just finishing your makeup, a cigarette hanging unlit from your ruby lips when the squeaking of shoes on the tile catches your attention, its not unusual for kids to sneak off into this bathroom for a smoke or to play hooky but something about the giggling and whispers sets a small alarm off in the back of your head. You gather your things, double checking your ensemble in the mirror with a satisfied nod before heading for the door. Before you can exit the dimly lit, tile room several cheerleaders push their way through the door, barreling into you and knocking you back on your ass, scattering the contents of your purse across the floor.

“Hey watch where you’re going!” You snap, whipping your hair out of your eyes and glaring up at the four girls that had filed into the small entry. One of them flicks the lock on the inside of the door and your blood runs cold, so that’s how it’s going to be huh?

You start to push yourself to your feet but a spotless white shoe knocks your hand out from under you, sending you landing painfully onto your elbow with a hiss.

“Really girls?” You smirk, leaning back leisurely onto your elbows as they circle menacingly, their perfectly painted lips drawn into sneers. “This seems a little childish, even for you. Use your words.”

“Why waste the time” The brunette who is obviously the ringleader sneers “You don’t seem to care about how things work around here so we apparently need to give you a very clear lesson”

“Awe how nice of you” You laugh, cocking your head to the side in a mocking gesture

“Really, we did try” She sighs dramatically with a shrug “We didn’t make a fuss when you were out there messing around with poor Alex, we do like him but he’s always been a little… Different, we figured you were fucking the freak anyways. But laying your dirty little hands on Jason, now that’s just too much.”

“Oh he wishes I would lay my dirty little hands on him” You grin, flicking your tongue over your lips suggestively, in the back of your mind you know this isn’t the smartest considering there’s four of them and one of you but their perfectly pressed cheer skirts and manicured nails are digging entirely too deep under your skin “They all do and you know it, just like you and your perfect little angel squad can’t help but imagine yourselves getting fucked out by the town freak for a little taste of rebellion.”

Her foot flies before you can brace yourself for it, landing heavily in the middle of your stomach and driving the breath from you, tears spring to your eye’s from the shock. One of the girls gasps, clearly not expecting it to get this far as you roll to your side coughing, Right, cheerleaders are stronger than they look.

“What? Did that hit a nerve? Mad I get to live out your dirty little fantasies?” You cough, holding your stomach with a pained grin as she huffs angrily above you, red faced and furious before her face steels into a cold smirk.

“Girls, hold her.” She says calmly, stooping to snatch the scissors from where they’d slid out of your bag earlier as two of the girls grapple you tightly. You struggle against their grasp but the amount you’ve skipped gym class really shows and you can’t pull yourself from the girls claws as the Brunette sneers down at you, straddling your lap and grabbing a fistful of your long hair.

“Huh so it’s not just the basketball team then huh?” You chuckle, trying to steady your breathing as a pang of anxiety spikes, the cold metal of the scissors glinting dangerously in the flickering overhead lights. “Not that I entirely mind but this isn’t exactly on my list of fantasies.”

“You know, it’s that attitude that’s gotten you into this mess, you need a lesson in humility.” She smirks, pulling your hair painfully. “Let’s see if even the Freak wants you after I’m done with you.” There is a jagged slicing sound before clumps of your hair fall in front of your eyes, blazing furiously at the girl snipping away at the strands laced between her fingers, tugging harshly with a laugh. Unable to control your rage you jolt forward, the girl holding your arms jumping in surprise and loosening her grip, you surge forward, throwing the girl off your lap and shove her down hard onto the cold tile with a roar. She shrieks in surprise as the scissors slip across her palm, drawing blood and clattering to the floor, you snatch them up before they can so much as bounce and have them pressed firmly to her throat as you pin her beneath you.

“I’ll tell you the same thing I told that piece of shit Carver. Leave. Me. Alone.” You hiss, inches from her now terrified face, the cold metal pressing threateningly into the soft skin of her throat. “You understand?” She just stares back, shaking in fear “I said, do you understand?”

She winces at the venom in your voice but twitches a nod. Satisfied with your intimidation you stagger to your feet, still gripping the scissors in a strained fist as the two accomplices grab the brunette and all but drag her back out the door in stunned silence.

Once they are gone you stumble back against one of the stall doors, tremors overtaking your body as the weight of what just happened drops onto your shoulders. The cold metal of the shears bites into your palm as you clench them tightly, working up the courage to look up at the mirror. Suddenly the bathroom door slams open, the sound causing you to jump back like a feral animal, the scissors extended slightly in front of you in defence.

“Oh my god” Robin's horrified voice breaks you out of your fear and you collapse into her arms as she swoops in to catch you. “Are you ok??” You look up at her, tears welling in your eyes, jagged strands of hair falling across your cheeks. “Right, stupid question”

A chuckle is choked into a strained sob as you lean into the girl's arms, trembling and gripping the scissors like a lifeline for a long moment, Robin rambling incoherent comforts while rubbing your back. Soon enough the tremors stop and you take a long shaky breath, sniffling as Robin dabs the tears away with her sleeve.

“Glad you busted in when you did Robin.” You sniff

“Wish i’d gotten here sooner.”

“How’d you know I was in here?”

“Dustin saw the cheerleaders follow you in here and took off looking for Eddie. Unsurprisingly he skipped out early and Dustin ran headfirst into me on my way to the bathroom so I came running.”

“Is he still out there?”

“Yeah, nearly got bowled over by the group of screeching, flailing cheerleaders, probably going to have nightmares about green and white monsters wielding pom poms and hair spray from now on.”

The image pulls a laugh from you and you shake your head before taking a deep breath turning to look up at the mirror.

“Alright, time to assess the damage” You groan, Robin helping to pull you to your still shaky feet.

The girl looking back at you in the mirror is a certified mess. Make up smeared down your cheeks, clothing stretched and in disarray while your hair sits piled on your scalp, mostly hacked off just above your shoulders. A couple long strands still hang down your chest and back, the last of your grown out highlights visible while there are shorter, broken chunks hanging around your ears and across your face.

“Well that’s not great” You sigh, ruffling the shaggy mess while Robin picks the loose hairs off your shoulders with a worried grimace. After a minute of psyching yourself up you take the scissors to the longer bits, evening out the general mess and giving at least a halfway decent canvas to work with. You both stare at your reflection, Robin opening and closing her mouth, clearly trying to find a way to compliment the now bowl cut-looking style.

“I look like I’m trying out for the Beatles. Eddies going to laugh himself silly when he sees this” You groan, dropping your head in defeat.

“I mean that’s not the worst reaction he could have over this.” Robin offers, trying to be helpful. A sudden banging on the door has you both jumping in your skin, Dustin's voice stage-whispering through the metal.

“You guys ok in there??”

“Oh my god I forgot he was still here” Robin gasps, running to the door and pulling the boy in after her as he squeaks in surprise. His eyes go wide as he takes in the scene.

“Uhhh didn’t know you were a fan of the Beatles”

You groan, slapping your palms over your eyes as Robin winces, biting her lip to force back a giggle.

“Not exactly what I was going for” you sigh, running your hands hopelessly through the frayed mess of hair.

“Want some help?” You both gape down at the younger boy, his face holding no hint that he was messing with them as the girls search his face intently. “What? I trim Mew’s coat all the time and Steve has me help him get the back of his hair when he can’t get into the salon” He shrugs, holding out a hand for the scissors which you hand him hesitantly with a dubious look.

The tile bites into your knees as you kneel in front of the shorter boy, his face screwed up in concentration as he snips away, robin chewing her nails nervously to the side; you try not to look over at her as her nerves have always been contagious and wait patiently until Dustin finally steps away with a satisfied grin.

“Alright, moment of truth big guy” You warn with a smile, getting to your feet and looking at your reflection. It’s a pleasant surprise considering what he had to work with but the kid managed to pull it off, the blunt edges were layered out in a shag, clearly an attempt to hide the uneven mess the cheerleader had left you with, you now sport choppy bangs as well, your naturally wavy strands slightly reminiscent of a particular metal head; a smile pulls at the corners of your lips. It is definitely an improvement, a BIG improvement, relief washes over you and you pull the boy into a tight hug with a big thank you, grinning wide and ruffling his curly locks.

“Damn Dustin, this may be your true calling” Robin marvels, patting the younger kid on the shoulder as you release him, turning back to the mirror to inspect the look. The cut is great, really adds to the rocker look however something is missing, your bleached blonde had grown out over the summer and your short time here and with the impromptu cut you’re left with nothing but your natural dirty blonde.

“Somethings missing” You muse with a frown “Anyone got the time?”

“Uhhh 2:00” Dustin holds his watch up

You chew your lip for a minute in contemplation before snapping to the younger boy “Can I borrow your bike?”

You stash your heels in your bag and swap the skirt for your gym shorts before scooping up Dustin's bike and peeling out of the school yard, luckily missing any patrolling teachers or wandering students. For your lack of athletic ability you manage to make it to the general store and on to Steve’s place in record time, squirrelling yourself away in the bathroom just as the clock hits 2:20 with a bottle of jet black hair dye and an adrenaline fueled confidence. The lack of hair is advantageous and the dye is in and processed by the time the clock hits 2:45, with a prayer you run the bath, watching the dark colour swirl and spin down the drain. As the last of the stray colour drains away you’re startled to your feet by the sound of the door slamming open behind you, spinning and facing a wildly confused Steve, his brain trying to make sense of what exactly he’s looking at as you stand there in the guest bathroom, hair; now short, black and dripping down your face.

“What the hell!?” He shouts, sputtering and hands raking through his hair in bewilderment. “Robin told me you left, you can’t keep skipping out on school like this! I thought you had a date tonight, what the hell did you do to your hair?”

You shuffle on your feet, suddenly self conscious, nervously rethinking the drastic decision and not meeting his eyes. He goes quiet when he notices your discomfort, frowning and leaning down to grip your shoulders, voice softening with concern.

“Hey.. Talk to me. What happened.” You look up and his eyes are dark pools of concern, brows pinched as he searches your face, you swallow heavily against the lump forming in your throat.

“I just wanted to change things up a bit” You lie, looking down again, knowing there is no way he’ll believe it but silently begging him not to push it. He huffs a humourless laugh, regarding your hair and the finger shaped bruises that had started sprouting along your arms before pulling you into a tight hug, resting his head on the top of yours, not complaining as your still wet hair soaks his shirt.

“I’m sorry.” He sighs “You’ve had kind of a shit time here so far. I can convince my parents to send you back home… if you want”

You pull back in surprise, looking up at him in confusion before shaking your head with a laugh, pulling his hands off your shoulders to clasp them in front of you both and fixing him with a look of mock-suspicion “What? Trying to get rid of me before I can go on this date? You’re not shipping me off that easily Sweets”

Steve dries and styles your hair, giving it; in your opinion, one too many puffs of his stupid Farah Faucet hair spray while you fix up your once again smudging makeup and wiggle your skirt back on. You yelp and bolt out from under the cloud of hair spray when you notice the time now reads 3:15 and drag Steve to the car, tossing Dustin's bike in the trunk and screeching off down the street.

He rolls his eyes, trying to hide his relief under an exasperated sigh “Well excuse me if i’m not exactly thrilled about your historically terrible choice in men” You gasp, grabbing your imaginary pearls. “But If this is what you want I won’t get in your way… you’re happier than I’ve seen you in a long time… despite the chaos that seems to follow you like the plague. And If I have to give Munson some of that credit, so be it.” He reaches past you to snatch the hair dryer off the counter and flicks the on switch to blast you in the face with a puff of hot air. “Let's get you ready for your date. I’ll give you a lift back to the school.”

Previous Chapter - Next Chapter

#eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x harrington!reader #eddie stranger things #fanfiction #stranger things fanfiction #eddie x you

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acearohippo · 2 years

Note

OMG i didnt know you had a tumblr! Ive read your lixuan fics on ao3 and wow 😳

I wanted to throw this thought your way. Uh nsfw 🔞 warning.

What if Xuan teasingly calls Ling daddy and it does something to him, cut to Ling counting Xuan's orgasms like a workout count 👁👁

Me: I'll make sure to keep my social media handle consistent so people can find me easier

Me, when people find me easier due to my consistent social media handle: *kill bill sirens playing over X Files theme song*

Hehe, yes, tis I! And thank you for sharing this morsel with me! 🥰

Sorry, it's taken me so long to reply, I came down with some sort of bug (love working at a daycare, really) and I've not been in the correct mindset to be all smutty... Till now :D

Had to write out the scene~

Nsfw under the cut

Warnings: Multiple Orgasms, fledgling Daddy Kink, sex talk, minor praise, Li Ling calling Tang Xuan baby, doll, and babydoll, neutral descriptions of Tang Xuan’s anatomy.

It would start out completely innocent at first, Tang Xuan calling Li Ling “daddy” because his skateboard broke and Li Ling pulled a toolkit out of nowhere and went to work fixing out. Why does he have a toolkit for a skateboard? He rollerblades, that’s why, but the randomness of it and Li Ling just automatically getting to work is comical to Tang Xuan. Tang Xuan then completely loses it when Li Ling starts dadsplaining on proper skateboard care and maintenance. It’s so out of character that it aligns exactly within character for Li Ling and Tang Xuan is delighted.

“Thank you, daddy, I’ll make sure to lube my wheels more.” Said with a cheeky grin, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

Li Ling just levels him with a look and plays along. It’s a small moment, just a little light-hearted banter, and then Li Ling is back to watching Tang Xuan perform increasingly complicated tricks on his board.

Except, as the hour passes, that line- or rather, that singular word, echoes in his mind, followed by images of increasingly lewd situations where Tang Xuan could use it.

Li Ling lets a smirk settle on his face, the word humming in the back of his mind. He can work with this, and he lets his gaze grow heavy with intent until Tang Xuan notices. Tang Xuan doesn’t say anything, just raises a brow and skates over to him, casual and open-faced.

Li Ling grabs him by his waist and moves him towards the Union dorm building, no words exchanged but heated glances back and forth relay the message well enough, and it is reciprocated.

When they do get to their own room, Li Ling asks him to call him the word again.

“Hmm? And what does daddy need me to do?” The cheekiness is still there, but Tang Xuan is interested now, his voice low with arousal.

Li Ling smiles. “Nothing, baby. Just lay there and look pretty while daddy works.”

It’s so corny, they both break character to laugh it off. Tang Xuan pulls Li Ling into the bed with him and they strip down and bring each other pleasure.

Two orgasms later, and Tang Xuan now understands the beast he unleashed within Li Ling. He jumps on a particularly rough thrust from Li Ling against the sensitive spot inside of him, and it triggers another orgasm.

“What number was that one, babydoll? Gotta help keep count for daddy.” Li Ling purrs, enjoying the quivering mess he’s turned his boyfriend into.

Li Ling has found that sweet spot, where he can just grind against Tang Xuan’s inner walls and give him multiple orgasms in a row.

“Th-three…?” Tang Xuan barely gasps out, after another orgasm overtakes him.

“Hmm, are you sure about that? Daddy’s gonna have to teach you how to count, babydoll.” No sooner does he growl out the pet name Tang Xuan clenches around Like Ling, whining and tossing his head back in ecstasy.

“Well, that was number four. Count with me, doll.” Li Ling adjusts his weight and posture so he can have finer control of his thrusts. He grinds his hips against Tang Xuan’s pelvis and Tang Xuan clenches tightly around him for a fifth orgasm. Li Ling groans out the number, reaching his second orgasm of the night, but remains hard and hungry for more.

“You didn’t say it with me, babydoll. Try again~! Say it with daddy now!” Tang Xuan can only murmur the number and brace himself for the subsequent orgasms Li Ling will wring from him before the sun sets.

“And that was orgasm number 6, you’re doing so well for daddy.”

“Come on baby, lemme here you. We’re on 7.”

“You’re being so good for daddy, giving me 8 orgasms. Daddy’s going to fill you with his fourth load now, baby.”

“Fuck, babydoll, don’t fight it. It’ll feel so much better when you let go… A ha! There you go, doll! Look at you all messy for daddy. You don’t even remember which number we’re on, do ya?”

“Breathe, baby, just give me one more orgasm. Make daddy proud and hit the double digits. Just one more baby and daddy will fill you up one more time. Come on, come on, come on. You’re so close, baby, I can feel you tightening around me. This will be your tenth one, come on babydoll, make daddy proud-! Fuck! Look at you, yeah ride it out, baby, take your fill. You’re so damn good, so fucking amazing, of course, I’ll reward you.”

Of course, when their coupling comes to an end, Tang Xuan finds himself laying limply with a dazed grin on his face, eyes glazed over, sated and trembling. It’s not comical anymore and Tang Xuan knows he’s going to have to encourage more of this at later dates.

#the hippo responds #the hippo writes #dislyte #li ling dislyte #tang xuan dislyte #lixuan #lingxuan #monkeylotus #li ling x tang xuan #ah look at that we got some smut in #i am dying but i've been sitting on this for a while #don't mind the errors please

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hanasnx · 6 months

Text

❝ give a little more. ❞

── anakin skywalker x reader

ANAKIN SKYWALKER loves giving you massages, but he can’t keep it in his pants. The sounds you make are too pretty, your pliant flesh molds in his hands as he digs his fingers in, the most exquisite form entrusted solely to him. You’re bare where you lay. He can see the way your chest presses and spills out from the side against the surface of the bed. The elegant arch of your spine leads a holy trail to your plump backside, and he smooths his hand over the path to meet his prized destination. A firm and loving squeeze to your tissue makes you chide him, which curls his lips. Something about how you scold him brings him joy.

“But it’s so tense, my love. Let me loosen you up.” his plea is obliged as you relax further into the cushion with a sigh, and the heel of his warm hand sinks into a particularly sensitive spot, drawing a sweet sound of serenity from your lips. Half-hard already, it stands at attention because of your voice, and how it reminds him so tenderly of what you confess during love-making. Your symphony of moans music to the ear that you spill it in while he’s buried deep inside you. His eyes fall closed as he reimagines it, how your wet heat feels wrapped around him, how you allow him to do as he pleases with you, how you don’t hold back— even now— to show him how good he makes you feel. It’s nothing short of intoxicating. He adds fervor, rolling his hand into your knot. “Yeah, baby, lemme hear you.” You can hear the arousal in his tone, how he punctuates it with a nip to his lower lip, and it shoots electricity to your core. He takes note of how your feet rub together, toes adorably curling.

He’s limited in his movements, his metal hand hindering his ability to be gentle with you. Rough leather scratching against you may not be conducive to your relaxation, so he makes do with his other. Fortunately for him, it leaves his appendage free to roam himself. “Oh, right there, Ani,” you purr and he about bites through the skin past his lower lip, palming himself through his thin black pants. You have to know what you’re doing to him, for that exact cadence is reminiscent of how you praise him when he angles your hips just right. Efficiently hitting that spongy spot inside you that only his cock is long enough to brush. To seek out that sensation again— that thrill that was cast onto him when you audibly rewarded him— he pushes further into you, and the most endearing squeak graces his ears.

He growls. “I can’t take it anymore, angel.”

You’re unsure what he could be referring to, and you snicker at him, propping yourself up to glance over your shoulder; you don’t get the chance. His fingers flatten, tracing your spine down to the crevice of your ass, filing through, wedging them between your thighs, to graze the tips of them over your sex. Such a subtle touch over your worked up core elicits a shudder, and it stuns you with a knowing, “Oh,” collapsing back onto the mattress. Anakin presses on, his fingertips petting the outside of your tissue as his tongue forms over his upper lip in concentration. His palm molds over his length, cruelly bound in cloth, pumping himself through it as he cups your mound from behind. His hand large enough to kiss the heel of it on your perineum while his middle finger coaxes your clit to play. “Fuck, Anakin,” You readjust your positioning, giving your building energy somewhere to go as you clench and unclench covers, rubbing yourself on the textured fabrics.

At the sound of his name on your lips like a prayer, he can’t stop now. His entire hand waves back and forth, and you rock yourself back on him. “Dirty girl. Did you ask for a massage to get my hand down here?” he taunts, and you whine indignantly in return. He takes it away, to which your whine worsens, “None of that.” he chastises, “I’m going to give it right back. Be patient.” In the manner of masculinity, clumsy and eager, his tongue flattens to coat the length of his hand in his saliva; returning it to you as he’d sworn, to receive your grateful exhale as a worthy trade. The ends of his digits pursue your gooey entrance, teasing only one at the rim. Like a bitch in heat, you chase it, and once again he can’t refuse you. Not when you’re both this desperate. His prosthetic is not the most pleasing touch, but his cock has begun to ache. So he soothes it, and you can hear the way leather catches on the material of his pants. A full finger enters you without resistance, and by the way you moan, he could swear he’d just reintroduced you to his every formidable inch.

“Please, Anakin, more,” you beg, minutely rutting yourself against him and the bed, searching for any friction at all. “I need more, I need you.” It’s impossible to heed you this time, lusts clouding your judgement. It’s time for him to direct you.

“No, my pet, I have to work you open. I thought you learned your lesson the last time.” The last time being your chance to ride him as you see fit, but neglected yourself in favor of a speedy release. The inside of your poor cunt a mess of raw nerves and sore walls. All because you promised him you were ready, only to suffer because of your impetuousness.

You know better than to argue with Anakin. Reluctantly, you accept your fate, until you’re bored with one finger. Faithfully, he introduces you to two, then three— three of his thick fingers pumping in and out of you, emanating the depraved squelching of your leaking fluids. He touches himself with less attention on getting himself off and more to ease that tension inside of him until it becomes too much. While the bones of his hand bang against your rim, fucking you with his fingers harsh and fast— just how you like it— he frees his trapped cock, fisting it enthusiastically to pump it proper. You’ve raised your little ass, sticking it into the air to present your cunt to him, eager dewdrops of pre-cum dripping down your thighs.

“Look at that pretty pussy,” he breathes in awe, skewing his fingers all up inside it to mess with your guts. Your toes curl and you scream into the mattress, “‘She ready for me?” Desperately you nod, face buried into the mattress to muffle your cries from his tyrannical treatment of your most sacred parts. He’s feeling generous— the only real reason he doesn’t force you to tear your face from the covers to answer him with your words. The tip of his cock has blushed to a darker purple than his usual mauve, mounting the bed on his knees to pursue your cunt. All flush and swollen, he can’t help but taunt you with a little flick of his middle finger to your clit. Your sobs since quieted surge when he does it, batting his thigh with your ankle to demonstrate your offense. He snickers through his nose, carefully extracting his fingers which you’ve clenched down on, only to rest that wet hand onto your round backside, bracing as he pushes his hips forward, patting your sensitive folds with the underside of his cock. “‘This what you want?”

He’s rubbing it in, but you can’t be angry. The only thing on your mind being how badly you need him. Your guts practically scream out for him, and the coil in your belly is already so tight. You pivot your head, freeing your deeply-colored expression to address him. “Yes, Ani, please, please fuck me.” you murmur and that’s all he can stand to hear before shoving his glans inside. Even after prep, there’s still a stretch and you grit your teeth over how delicious it can be. “That’s it, baby, fuck yes,” you sigh, your curled knuckles resting against your chin as they clutch the sheets for purchase. “Oh, fuck, Ani, you’re so fucking big.”

“Is that right?” he inquires cheekily, confirming obvious information to make you feel small for observing it. He knows he’s fucking big. He’s only halfway inside you and you’re writhing like a fucking prude. Reaching back to claw at your own asscheeks, hastily spreading them as if you can widen yourself from the outside to take him. To give you a second to breathe, he pulls out and you slack at the empty feeling; his hand that braces on your tailbone gives you a loving squeeze, thumb tucked between the beginning of your crevice as he leans down and spits onto your hole. The gob drools down your tissue and he lingers there to watch it with interest, to get a whiff of your arousal he so desperately craves. His cock is fucking pulsing in his hand, he can feel it twitch as he grips the base. He pushes his mushroom tip inside, gliding a little easier with his lubrication. You chant at him for more, and he thrusts an inch more each time, paving his path inside you.

Once it’s safe to release himself, he sheathes fully, a joint groan emitting simultaneously at the feeling of filling and being filled. It’s incomparable, fitting together like puzzle pieces; he idles, basking in the eminence, until you can’t bear it. You keen his name, displaying your yearning for him to move, so he does. Moving inside you, he sets a pace you follow, rocking back on him in tandem. “You feelin’ good? Yeah?” He pants through his nose, pressing his lips into a thin line as he concentrates. If you looked back at him, you’d see his eyebrows knit together as they often are, but it’s not because he’s cross. He’s focused on your pleasure.

“So good, Ani, so fucking good. Keep going— fuck,” He grips the fold of flesh between your hips and thighs, yanking you back onto him to spear you on his dick. He lets the force of the impact do most of the work, jumping you forward to pull off of him, only for him to draw you right back. Rapidly stuffing you and taking it away, your body reduced to mere liquid he manipulates under his skilled direction. “Baby, I’m gonna cum— fuck, baby— fuck!” He fucks harder, drilling you in a spot that shifts the type of your release. Once you realize it, you’re quick to warn him, “You’re gonna make me squirt!”

No sooner do the words leave your lips than the floodgates open, pouring hot squirt out from around his cock plugging you up. It goes in all directions, spraying the both of you as he commends you for a job well done. Proudly, he exclaims, “Yes! Oh, fuck yes, my little star. Such a good girl,” In his delight, he can’t help but fuck you through it, splashing your finish all over; wet skin heightens the smack whenever he snaps his hips into yours. “Wanna go again?” He’s not asking for you because all you can respond with are limp whimpers while he’s still riding his triumphant high making you squirt on just his cock. “Yes, you do. Of course, you do,” he speaks over your weak protests. You need a second to recover, squirting takes a lot out of you, and you can barely think while he’s still got his dick fucking you at a steady pace. Leaning forward, he lands his fists on either side of you, hovering over you as he pistons into you. The new angle makes you cry out, clutching onto his flexed wrist as the coil winds again. “You wanna make me proud, yeah? Make me proud. C’mon, baby, I know you’ve got more in you.” You tremble, a powerful shudder rippling through you as your abdomen tenses to push out more liquid. His praises are lost on you, tuned out as your pussy spasms around him. The smell of your finish douses the two of you, and he takes a deep breath. “Fucking smell that, baby? S’all you. That’s my girl.” he murmurs against your ear, and latches onto your earlobe to suck on it, ending it with a nip.

You’re barely holding it together, and you collapse further when he shifts to the side to free up his hand, arm strapping around your torso as his eager fingers toy with your clit. “Ani, it’s too much.” No recovery time, no mercy, he’s just using you up as he sees fit. Your little bundle of nerves aches from his ministrations, but you like it. You can tell by the way your pussy loosens for him. Perhaps she recognizes Anakin’s signature touch, and accommodates his every new thrust.

“You can take it.” he encourages. “You’ve seen worse, haven’t you? Remember that speeder in the lower levels? Couldn’t get the stench of sex out of there for weeks.” he professes it with admiration, reminding you of how he holed you up in that vehicle for hours with nothing to do but get each other off. Right before one of his long journeys, he was meticulously thorough: weaponizing every detail he knows about your body, roaming your erogenous zones until you could practically come untouched. There isn’t a bodily fluid you can think of that wasn’t shared that night, painting every inch of the interior of that speeder. You know he wears that proudly. The expression of realization shifts across your countenance and he notes it. “Ah, so you do remember.”

You don’t get a chance to reply. His touch against your clit acts more deliberately, and the ache dulls, replaced by waves of pleasure as you near your edge yet again. You curse, and repeat his name like a prayer. Displaying his fondness for it, he rubs his front over you as he ruts, spreading your squirt and sliding your wet bodies together. A low groan spills from his throat, right at your ear, and the tingles that travel down your spine is exactly what you need to send you right over the edge. An orgasm stutters your body, squeezing your eyes shut as it releases in the forms of a cry and creamy cum oozing out from your quivering hole. Anakin feels it, feels how much easier it is to fuck, speeding up his pace to get himself to his own end as you let your orgasm wash over you. Sweetly, his thrusts recede to shallow motions, using your cum as lube, focusing on the sensations surrounding his swollen head as he massages it with your insides. He lets it consume him for just a moment, coaxing his own orgasm out using your spasming hole.

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