#[ two rich lookin people ] | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

iovesia · 2 months

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𐚁֙࿐ BE MY DADDY TONIGHT.

keanu mlist.⠀ 𑇓 ⊹ ᳝ ࣪ ⠀bodyguard!con&wick⠀𝑥⠀f!reader.

synopsis: you have one job for tonight's ball: behave. easier said than done, right? well, your two bodyguards will make sure you stay in line. by any means necessary.

contents. bratty!rich!reader. large age gap. threesome. brat taming. oral (m!receiving). hate to gentle sex? double penetration (+ANAL). sir kink. pure filthy filth. 5.0k words.

⋆ 𓂃 ﾟ .⠀josie's little note. mentally, physically WEAK for my fav duo— this is a spin off to you can be the boss, so hopefully you guys will enjoy :3 if u see any grammar or spelling errors, no you don't ♡

“ABSOLUTELY NOT.”

“Why not?” You scoff.

“Take that off.”

You roll your eyes, looking back into the mirror, hands gently smoothing the silk covering your hips. Having people paid to stalk your every move, means you’ll always have a second opinion for your outfits. The downside is that they’re 40 year old men with zero fashion sense.

“No way,” you defend, viewing your body in every angle. The pink satin hugged your figure just right, the slit on the side exposing your smooth leg and thigh. Each mirror perfectly reflected your good side— which was every side. “This is totally, like, ball material.”

The annual Senator’s ball. The one day of the year where your father is forced to interact with you, and acknowledge your existence beyond a weekly check to your bank account. You and your family have attended every single one since you were 5, a begrudging effort to boost your father’s campaigns and image.

Family’s everything.. at least to the voters. Chin up and grin when the cameras point your way.

“Is this ball in the red light district?” Constantine snickers, earning a glare from his associate.

Your two bodyguards were spending their Saturday afternoon watching over you, as they always do. Except now at the painstakingly boring activity of shopping. Constantine and John (your original offer of calling them ‘Beavis and Butthead’ were immediately shot down), a pair of older brawny men in black suits, sat in the comically pink fluffy chairs as you tried on several outfits. As similar as the two men look, they couldn’t be more different personality wise.

Constantine was the fun one; could actually take a joke, and was more lax on the rules, but you knew it was just to irritate John. You had no clue why your father hired him, then you remember the handfuls of other guards you annoyed to resignation. Last resort.

John was the polar opposite. Total grade A military asshole. Knows what you’re gonna do before you do it. Wouldn’t crack a smile to save his life. He was the worse cop to Constantine’s bad cop.

“Find something else,” John stares blankly at you.

“You can’t tell me what to do,” you sneer. The two of you lock eyes in a silent stand-off, with Constantine just smirking on the sidelines. “It’s my money, not yours.”

“No, it’s your father’s money,” John retorts.

“And daddy dearest is gonna have our necks if we let you come dressed like that,” Constantine interjects.

“Change. Now.”

Your face scrunches up into an ugly scowl, as you march back to the dressing room, muttering profanities under your breath. Like a petulant child, you tug and try on new dresses with aggression in your movements. Damn near ripping the seams.

You come out after a few minutes in a new dress: a baby blue silk dress which reaches the floor, hiding your curves and hips. Like a Kate Hudson look-alike, the silky dress left your back exposed.

“Nuh uh,” the older man shakes his head, arms crossed.

“Oh come on!” You exclaim, turning around in a huff. “You want me to show up dressed like the Virgin Mary. Get real.”

“Yeah, John, get real,” Constantine mocks your high pitched voice.

"You stay out of this—" John shoots his partner a side eye.

“John, I’m buying this. I’m not going to that ball lookin’ like a nun,” you reaffirm, as you take one last look in the mirror. Your hands smoothing the dress down over your backside, you grinned satisfied. The soft material on your skin boosted your confidence for the upcoming night.

“Just buy the dress and let’s go,” John mutters, glancing at your reflection. Constantine smirks, whispering something to him. Your brows furrowed, but you waved your hand dismissively, your mind focused on the ball rather than their stares.

The ride to the ball was painful. Mentally at least.

You sat next to your father in the back of the pristine limousine. Your father typed endlessly away on his mobile, answering the string of emails that flooded in daily. He was a busy man, and this upcoming election only soaked up any remainder of his free time. Stupidly, you hoped he would at least talk to you on the way to the ball— a repeatedly unfulfilled hope.

“Please behave at this ball, I need tonight to go well,” Your father drawls, like he has to force out every word. Talking with you always seemed like a chore.

“I always behave,” you try to joke, but it falls flat when your father doesn’t even lift his eyes from his phone. Incessant clicking noises fill the limo, and you clear your throat, shifting to rest your elbow on the car door.

“I mean it,” he says firmly. “You will not embarrass me like you did last time.”

“That was an accident..”

The dreaded accident he’s referring to was the year prior, and the aftermath of it all nearly cost your father his win. Being a politician’s brat means your only other friends included snobby offspring of other politicians, or mobsters who shadowed them. Your then boyfriend at the time: Richard Dubois, son of an alleged mobster, was getting handsy with the Judge’s daughter. Your firey temper got the better of you, and the words “fucking bitch” left you quicker than the common sense did as you threw your drink on her.

The tabloid nightmare that followed that night almost made your father’s head explode. His furious words echoed in your mind.

“Rich brat strikes again! Party-girl daughter of the running Senator spills the gossip AND drink on— Do you see what you’ve done?!” He reads the article out loud, disdain dripping from each word. “What the hell’s the matter with you?! Jesus fucking Christ.”

“I said sorry..”

“Sorry that I cut your allowance in half,” he replies with a roll of his eyes. Your father sets his phone down, his attention briefly flittering to you. His brows furrowed, as he analyses your outfit. The crinkle in his nose marking his disapproval. “Wick and Constantine will be keeping an eye on you.”

“What?!” Your lips part. “You promised I’d get to be on my own tonight.”

“That’s before I remembered you’re a goddamn walking PR nightmare.”

You didn’t respond and he knew he had upset you. Your words were lost as you turned your face away.

“Fine, whatever,” you mumble, hiding the hurt in your tone.

“You pull any stunts, young lady and I’m cutting you off.”

You turn your head back in a shock, not registering what he just said.

“You’re damn near 21 years old, you’re lucky I loved your mother enough to not kick you out,” was the straw that broke the camel’s back. “Wick and Constantine will be keeping me up to date. If I hear a single fuck up from them, you’re done.”

Being monitored and scolded like a child greatly dampened the mood.

Not that these balls were much fun anyways.

The hall was filled with hundreds of familiar faces dressed in the latest fashion. Rival candidates, politicians, judges, criminal affiliates, and of course their children; each more spoiled than the last. There was not a single friendly face in this ball. Each man and woman walked and danced the floors with hungry hearts and dollar signs in their eyes.

Humility was a poor man’s game.

You found yourself talking to a group of girls your own age. Like most rich brats, the conversation turned to competition, each girl showing off whatever luxury adorned her body. Every sly comment or backhanded compliment from them simply bounced off you, as you had no qualms showing off your own expenses.

“My parents are taking us to Cabo next month. We’re staying at the Waldorf,” One of the girls (Aria..? Anna..? You couldn’t be bothered to remember) spoke with amusement at the “awes" coming from the other girls.

“The Waldorf? Oh that cute little place?” You chime in, sipping your glass of champagne. “I’ve been, like, 4 or 5 times already. This is your first time going?” The girl's eyes widened a little at your audacity, influenced to focus on you now. That’s the one thing you were good at: being the centre of attention. You couldn’t help it. The conversation goes in loops, everyone trying to outshine the other, and eventually your glass turns empty.

“Excuse me,” you clear your throat, disbanding from the circle. Scratching at your skin, the boredom in you grew antsier. You needed some stimulation— something remotely interesting to converse about which wasn’t the stock market peaks, or whatever Fox News was blabbering about.

A notification on your phone alerts your attention, and you check your latest message. Your group chat is filled with details about a party going on a few blocks down from here. Unable to stop the grin growing on your lips, you glance around the room. You prayed that maybe your father wasn’t serious about Constantine and John being on your ass all night. With no sight of two men in black, you make your way towards the exit of the ball.

As you walk down the halls of the ball, a hand gently wraps around your elbow.

“Where are you going?”

You were a bit taken aback at the way John holds your elbow.

“Salsa dancing,” you mock, tugging your arm back. “The bathroom, obviously.” The lie flows off your tongue like water. But he wasn’t as stupid as you hoped.

The dark eyed man looks down at you with a blank stare, as though he doesn’t believe you. He straightens his back, his hand moving back to his side. You swallow, trying to bury the goosebumps swimming on your skin.

“Okay.”

“Okay?” you raise a brow.

“Okay. Go then,” he says to you.

“Well.. yeah..” you stammer, pushing a strand of hair from your face. “I didn’t need your permission.”

John’s eyes never leave your figure as you keep walking. Pretending to head to the bathroom, you hide behind the half-wall, occasionally peeking back to make sure he wasn’t looking. Once the coast was clear, your heels clicked against the polished floors as you left the party all giddy.

The techno beat of the music, along with vibrant flashing lights stinging your eyes, made your movements only more sluggish in this dingy club. Having just entered the party, you were whisked away by some “friends” and immediately handed some shots to do.

You were merely four blocks from where the ball was taking place, and you were quite proud of yourself for slipping past your father and his Shining Twins. Not that it was a hard feat, apparently. You haven’t seen those morons almost the entire night.

You down your third shot, the liquor burning your throat deliciously as your friends cheer you on. Granted, they were just people you linked up to get trashed with rather than actual friends— but it beats drinking alone.

“Hey baby, let me get some of that,” a random male voice calls out from behind you.

“In your dreams!” You call back, earning a whistle and a few chuckles from drunk wannabe frat boys. The incessant pick up lines and cat calling rolls off your back at this point, keeping your focus on the party girls who keep taking shots and howling along to the music.

Sure enough, you lose track of time. Beads of sweat form on your forehead while you sway your hips along to the beat, dancing with your girls. Your throat almost raw from shouting the lyrics over the bass, you’re completely amiss to your phone that’s exploding with missed calls.

You’re in the middle of downing another shot when a warm presence is felt on your back. Annoyance etched on your face, realising that frat boy was back, you turn around “Look, asshole— I already said—”

“Ouch, sweetheart."

Your face falls at the sight of Constantine’s contrived smile.

“Oh fuckkkk,” you whisper, a little too loudly. “Constantine— hey— wow—”

“Wow indeed,” Constantine interrupts, grabbing your bicep. With a loud “hey!”, you slap at his tight grip as he drags you through the sea of drunk partygoers. Your anger turns to pleading then to bratty complaints once you begin reaching the exit.

“Constantine— wait— c’mon—” You try to interject. His unusually calm disposition brewed the panic in your bones. If Constantine of all people was calm— that was your indicator you fucked up. Normally you could play off your rule-breaking tendencies with some witty banter, but tonight was not the night.

As the older man hauls you out of the club, onto the chilly New York streets, you lock eyes with your other bodyguard. John stood in front of a black car, his dark suit almost blending into it. His muscular arms crossed on his chest as Constantine nearly shoves you in front of him.

“Look let’s not freak out now—”

“Get in the car,” when he spoke, it was like there was gravel in his throat. You’ve never heard such a commanding tone from him before.

You sat with your tail between your legs in the backseat of the black mustang. The air was suffocating you and slowly sobering you up, nervous chills dancing on your spine. The two men sat in the front, with John driving as always.

“I was just—”

“No.” John says bluntly.

“But I–”

“No.”

“John plea—”

“Save it,” he commands, his tone quiet but deadly. You glance up at the rearview mirror, looking to Constantine for some backup. He barely turns his head from where he’s sat in the passenger’s seat, looking back at you.

“Can’t help you here, kid,” his voice lackluster, before turning back to facing the road.

You were in for it.

“Have you lost your mind?”

The deja-vu nearly makes you sick. You were sitting in your disgustingly pink bedroom, on your soft queen-sized bed. John stood diagonal to you, in his typical stoic position as Constantine boredly spun around in your desk chair.

“No,” you retort in a duh tone. “I was just trying to have fun.”

“Ah yes, drinking and illegal substances— perfect idea of fun,” Constantine scoffs, his face in an uncharacteristic frown.

“There were no drugs!” You defend.

“Like we’re going to believe that,” John says coldly, earning a jaw drop from you. Sure you were spoiled, complained a lot, and lacked common sense— but you weren’t a liar! Swallowing, you look back up at John’s intense gaze.

“I was just having some fun— Jesus!— The ball was so goddamn boring, I literally thought I would fall asleep!”

“So dramatic,” John grumbles, his dismissive tone so similar to that of your father, it makes you snap.

“Go fuck yourself!” you huff bitterly.

“Watch your mouth,” they warned in a chilling tandem, their voices tinged with a cold edge. Your eyes widened a little at their unified scolding, causing your ego to shrink down. The chair squeaks as Constantine stands up, now joining John’s side.

“Look, I’m sorry, I snuck out,” you sigh, your apology as insincere as it gets. “Are we cool now?”

“No we’re not cool now,” John jeers, mocking your inflection. “You realise you could’ve gotten in serious trouble right?”

“Yeah, but I didn’t—”

“Because I had to drag your ass out of there. Who even let you in? You’re not even 21 yet,” Constantine’s brow stitched together, judgement filling his words. Your hands weakly gesture to your figure, the low cut dress speaking for itself. Constantine rolled his eyes, while John released an exasperated sigh.

“Your father’s gonna have a field day with that one..” John taking out his phone made your heart drop.

“Woah—woah— wait no— why are you calling him?” You stammer, jumping up from your spot. The two guards share a look before turning back to you, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Maybe because his daughter not only snuck out, but went drinking on one of the most important days of his life?” John explains, but you were well aware already.

“And so we don’t get fired,” Constantine interjects.

You opened your mouth but John was already scrolling to find your father’s contact information. Suddenly you grab at his wrist, soft pleas leaving your lips. Finally cracking through his blank expressions, he raises his eyebrows a little at how weak you sound.

If I hear a single fuck up from them, you’re done.

You couldn’t get cut off. You weren’t built for anything outside of partying and shopping.

“Please don’t tell him, please,” you ask, the mirth in your voice fading. John clears his throat, his interest clearly piqued and he lowers his phone. You looked uneasily between the two brawny men, as they awaited your next words. “Please.. I’ll do anything. I’m really sorry.”

Batting your lashes, you can see the cogs turning in their heads. You weren’t stupid. You were stupid hot–— but not stupid. Constantine’s little jokes always had some flirty undertones, and as high and mighty John says he is, you definitely caught him readjusting while you were trying on dresses.

Before John could pick his phone back up, Constantine swoops in. “Hang on a minute,” as he holds his hand over John’s wrist. “Anything?”

You bite your lip, nodding.

Constantine side eyes his cohort, his pink lips turning up from a frown into a sly grin. John’s lack of protest or offence at the suggestion only affirmed what you knew. You take a step closer, purposely amplifying the sad bambi look in your eyes. Your delicate hands resting on either chest of John and Constantine, manicured fingers toying with their ties. “It’ll be our secret..”

“Fuck,” was the weak groan that fell from John’s lips. His body betrays him, and he feels his cock twitching underneath the slacks you’re hastily working to get off. The man in black lies back against your fluffy pillows, and headboard, with you on all fours, and Constantine at the end.

Constantine sponges soft kisses from your lower hip, all the way up your spine, his hands sliding the silky dress further up and up. Meanwhile, your own hands are pulling at John’s pants, slowly tugging them down, exposing his dark happy trail.

“No bra on? Dollface, I’m shocked,” Constantine taunts. He’s knelt right behind you on the bed, his huge hands stroking your sides before cupping your pillowy breasts. You whine, looking at John through your long lashes as Constantine toys with your sensitive buds. The bearded man leans up a little, helping to take your baby blue dress off before tossing it to the side. A wave of shyness overcomes you, your naked body aside from panties being eyed hungrily by two men who want nothing more than to taste you.

Constantine pulls you up, your back pressed to his clothed chest as he pinches at your nipples. John’s gaze never leaves your flustered face, and you feel his hands on your hips. Constantine’s lips leave faint kisses on your ear and neck, as both pairs of hands grope and squeeze your soft skin.

“Isn’t she fuckin’ pretty?” Constantine’s baritone voice echoes in the shell of your ear, his huge hands still massaging your breasts. John simply chuckles, his fingers hooking the sides of your skimpy pink panties.

“Prettier when her mouth’s shut,” John muses. The cool draft hits your exposed skin as John slides your underwear down, leaving you bare and ready to be feasted on. John’s calloused finger trails your inner thigh before reaching your slit. His digit traces over your clit, gently stroking it in slow circles.

“John—” you whisper breathlessly.

“Sir,” he corrects.

Constantine pushes you back down, and your face now inches from John. The sound of Constantine’s clothes ruffling as he unbuttons his shirt, piques your excitement, and you can’t help squirming your hips.

The sound that left you was embarrassing as a cold glob of spit trickles from Constantine’s mouth down to your cunt. John watches how you unravel as Constantine’s touch, and he holds tightly onto your jaw. Your big doe eyes are forced to stare into his dark irises, and he drinks in every whimper and squeal coming from those pretty lips.

Constantine pushes his index finger into you, and you bite your lip hard. The two men chuckle quietly at your reactions, and Constantine flusters you when he comments on how tight you are. Your nails gently pinch into John’s thighs, and you feel his hand on the back of your neck.

You take the hint as your fingers pull his cock out from his slacks. Swallowing, your eyes widen a little at the size, your hand barely wrapping around the base. John’s lips press to your temple.

“Suck,” he says lowly,

“Yes.. sir..” the word drips with sin as you lower your head. Pressing pecks to his tip, you generously spit on your hand to lube his cock. John can’t hold back a groan, your pretty little hand stroking his cock while Constantine fingers you was a sight to behold.

Your mouth was so wet and warm, your lips stretched to the brim as you lowered your head even further. John’s large hand rests on the back of your head, keeping you in your place and making you gag. Your heart stuttered at the action, the near lack of oxygen filling your bones with panic and adrenaline. He only lets you up when you choke, and there’s a long clear line of spit connecting from your lip to his cock. You wipe your mouth, using the extra spit to stroke his girth once more.

Meanwhile, Constantine’s slacks dropped as well. You mewl when he pulls his finger back, leaving your needy hole empty temporarily. His pelvis pressed against you, and you felt something hard. Your eyes closed as you welcomed the sensation of his cock teasing you, collecting the slick off your weeping cunt. His tip prods at your entrance, barely filling your desperate hole.

Constantine smirks at your muffled whimpers, the obscene sounds eliciting from you sucking John off only made his own cock harder. “Daddy’s little girl is such a cockslut, who’da thought?”

“You’d do anything to not lose daddy’s money, huh? Even fucking the help?” John croons coldly, and the heat blooms in your cheeks. John’s hand tightens as it finds a home on the back of your head, his fingers pulling at your hair as he drags your mouth up and down his cock.

“Not the first time— probably the only reason the other guards stuck around as long as they did, right?” Constantine lies just to rile you up. He was not gentle as he pushed his way into you, making you gag once again. His hips rolled against you, the sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room. Constantine’s fingers dug painfully into your sides, each motion of him pulling you back and forth on his cock rattled your body. Your moans and pants vibrated against John’s cock, your tongue flat against the base.

You gasp for air as John pulls you off once again, his fingers smearing the drool and cum from your lips all across your mouth and chin. Eyes shut in fear as he pats your face condescendingly. “You like being used like this, hm?” John’s tone is gentle even if his words are mean.

You nod mindlessly, hand still stroking his cock. John tilts his head to watch where Constantine’s hips and your ass meet, his cock no doubt buried deep into your sopping cunt, and John licks his lips. “Use your words.”

“I— I like—” you pant, as Constantine leans forward, pressing his now bare chest to your back. You relied on John for support, little squeals falling from your wet lips as he ruts relentlessly into you. “I like being used— yes— yes sir—”

“Oh, she fuckin’ likes it..” Constantine mocks your whines, his lips graze your ear. “What would daddy dearest think if he saw you like this? Fucking the men he pays to watch you?”

Your eyes flutter closed, mouth parted open slightly as Constantine fucks you stupid. His cock sliding in and out of you with ease at this point, as you leave a ring of white at the base of his dick.

His thrusts come to a gradual halt, his cock pulling out of you. He would be lying if he said he didn’t love the sight of you clenching around air, begging to be filled like the needy girl you are. Suddenly you feel John manhandling your hips, pulling your chest against his. He shifts his hips a little lower, lining up your sensitive entrance with his shaft. Your thighs were a trembling mess as you hovered right over him. Like a fleshlight, he lowers you painfully slowly down on him, letting you feel each inch stretching you apart.

Constantine’s lips ghost your shoulder blades and he kisses along your shoulder, his huge hands back on your breasts. You’re surprised that John hasn’t shifted once, and instead is letting himself be snug inside your warm hole.

Your curiosity turns to alarm when you feel a wet sensation on your other opening.

“No— wait— I’ve never—” your stutters were merely shushed by both men, and a sharp spank from Constantine. John’s hands hold your hips tight and Constnatine pushes you down, so you’re chest to chest with John. With a forced arch, Constantine parts your cheeks, further exposing your holes.

You squirm a little, begging for any stimulation from John’s end, but he remains completely still.

“I’ll be gentle.. Promise,” Constantine offers you reassurance in the form of a gentle hand on your back. Inhaling sharply as you feel his tip probe your puckered hole, John’s hand strokes the side of your face. Your breathing was shallow as you looked at him with worried eyes.

“Shh.. look at me,” John whispers, pulling your face close as he slots his lips against yours. This mini distraction allows for Constantine to slide in a little deeper, releasing a hiss of his own. Your whimpers of pain were swallowed by John as you stretched around Constantine. Soon enough, the two men were lodged deep inside you, and you felt full to the brim.

Tears kissed your eyes in the sudden shift in atmosphere, and with the contrasting feel of pain and pleasure of having two men inside you at the same time. Constantine kisses behind your ear, and John along your lips and cheek.

“Taking us so well, dollface,” Constantine croons.

“You’re doing so good for us, c’mon..” John whispers.

Your tears do nothing for your pain, but earn the gentle affection of John and Constantine. The pain spikes when they both begin to move in and out slowly. Your manicure digs into John’s muscular chest, and it pushes out a quiet moan from him.

Their thrusts gradually quicken, and their caring personas begin to drop once again. Constantine’s hands cup the fat of your ass tightly, keeping you spread as he oogles the way he and John’s dicks disappear inside both your holes. The two men can’t help how fucking good you feel. Like the giving gift, they will gladly keep taking.

“It hurts, hurts—” you whine softly, eyes squeezed shut as tears roll down your flushed cheeks.

“I know, baby, I know,” John hums, his words not matching his actions as he keeps moving your hips up and down. Their strokes were fast and hard, and with Constantine pressed against your back, you felt completely sandwiched between them both.

Their pants and grunts mix in with your airy, feminine cries of pleasure. They were too occupied in watching the way your ass jiggled or how your tits bounced with each roll of their hips. The spoiled little brat they once knew, was now a whimpering, flushed mess: your doe eyes all teary and lips swollen from how hard you’re biting them.

“Our girl’s making us feel so good— it’s what we deserve after the shit you put us through tonight,” Constantine pants, putting his foot up which makes his cock plunge even deeper into your ass.

“‘M sorry, ‘m sorry—” your shaky tone comes out, forcing in a painful breath as you cry, the voice of reason in your mind going right out the window.

“No more sneaking out after this right? Gonna be a good girl? Listen to what you’re told?” John coos, cradling your clammy hand on his chest. You can barely speak, so you nod feverishly. You’d agree to anything at this point.

“I think the poor thing wants to cum,” Constantine pulls your head back, and your neck cranes as you look back at him over your shoulder. He sees the fucked out gaze in those pretty irises, and feels the tension in your clench. “Should we let her?”

“I think she’s had enough,” sent relief through your body. You couldn’t even tell who’s fingers pressed against your clit, but all you know is that it made the coil in your belly tighten. The quick circles on your bundle of nerves, was enough to send over the edge, and you exhale a loud moan. The tension in your tummy snaps, as your fluttering walls tighten through your climax.

Meanwhile, your two bodyguards were still chasing their own highs, using your trembling frame like a doll at this point. You could hardly comprehend a thing until the feeling of warm, thick release filled both your holes. All three of your exhausted pants filled the sweaty, sex-smelling room, and you finally collapsed against John’s chest. The animalistic growls came to a halt as they stilled inside you.

“Hey, hey..” a few gentle pats to the face jolt you awake. A little squelch can be heard when Constantine pulls out of you first, with John following. The brawny men lays you on your back, ignoring the dribbles of cum leaking from your holes. “You okay?” Constantine pats your face, a flash of concern on his face.

You nod tiredly, eyes drooping. The mascara stained your face, and the glitter lipgloss was nowhere to be seen anymore.

“Did so well for us,” John says calmly, kissing the corner of your mouth. The stoic, cold, brute you once knew was now gently soothing your sensitive body.

“Good girl.” Your heart flipped.

“Our little secret, right?” Constantine smirks, trying to lighten the mood. Licking your dry lips, you give him a lazy smile.

“Our little secret,” you reaffirm tiredly.

Fin.

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dr-qian · 3 months

Text

break in // m.l

burglar!mark x rich!reader

pt.2 , pt.3

the sound of a lockpick rustling into a metal lock might be the only thing can be heard during the dead of the night, as mark struggled to open the safe he found inside the wealthy mansion of an old man he discovered in the streets.

mark was just leaning by a wall at the sidewalk, taking a break from stealing other people's wallets when he came across this old man who just went out of the jewelry shop, flexing their newly-bought golden watch and diamong rings that could cost millions of dollar.

his eyes sparkled at the sight and thought it was now his chance to get rich, that's why he ended up here in this fancy-lookin' mansion.

the jewelries are almost falling out of his pockets, his sweat is rolling down his forehead, and his veins are already popping out of his arms as he remained focus on opening the safe.

"c'mon you piece of shit" mark mumbled inaudibly due to the little flashlight placed in his mouth, shaking his head in frustration as he accidentally dropped the lockpick on the marbled floor, creating a huge sound.

"hello?"

and then suddenly a door swung opened, revealing you in a satin nightgown.

you only came downstairs to get a glass of water, but then you heard a loud thud of metal coming from your dad's office.

you thought it would just be your dad doing some work until you saw the guy in a black beanie and black clothes, hunched over the safe as he quickly turned to look at you.

"ah- hmmph!" before you can even scream, the guy already ran up to you and blocked your mouth with his hand to stop you.

"hey hey, don't scream, please" he said to you in a pleading tone while still covering your mouth, and you struggling to get his hand off your face.

"i'll let you go, just don't scream please..." you stopped pushing his hand away, to signal him to let you go now.

before doing something, you thought it would be a bad move to betray him, and scream your lungs out once he lets you go since you don't know if he's carrying a weapon with him.

this could be your last memory.

"my name's mark" the burglar introduced himself, you looked at him in confusion.

"why are you introducing yourself?" you asked, suddenly confused as to why this robber becoming friendly so suddenly.

"what? am i supposed to be evil and murder you instead?" mark joked, but you tensed up when you heard the word "murder"

"i'm kidding"

"okay, why are you in here? why are you trying to open my dad's safe?" you asked nervously.

'okay, so you're the daughter of that rich old man'

wow.

"i-i'm just curious.." mark stuttered, thinking of the next words to say.

you glanced down at his current outfit, you saw your mom's necklaces almost splling out his pockets.

"so you're a burglar!" you exclaimed, like you just unlocked a clue.

"i thought it would be that obvious" mark whispered to himself.

"i'm going to call my dad" you told him bravely, as you turned to the exit.

"hey! no, wait!" mark grabbed your arm and tugged you back to him strongly that made you whip your head back immediately to look at him.

"what can i do to stop you from snitching me out?"

and to realize both of your faces are dangerously close to each other.

you stayed silent and unmoving for a couple of minutes, locking your eyes into his until it moved down to his lips, then back at his eyes again.

you really didn't think mark would notice that little movement your eyes made. thanks to you, he finally knew what to do.

then suddenly mark's lips was on yours, both of your eyes closing in instinct as you two enjoyed the kiss that lasted shortly.

breaking away from each other's lips, you were completely silent and was just staring at him in awe.

in the other hand, mark started to get red and awkward, and decided to head towards the window where he broke in. completely forgetting about the safe.

"uhh, imma have to go now, see ya" he said shyly, scratching the back of his head before climbing down the ladder situated outside the window.

mark's gone and you were still standing there dumbfounded.

you don't know if you're just surprised or in love, but a part of you is hoping that he'll come back to rob your place someday so you could see him again.

you haven't even told him your name yet.

when the morning rises, just lie to your parents that you were asleep during the robbery.

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wroteclassicaly · 2 months

Text

18+

There was something about today. Whether it was the traded looks you had exchanged all morning with Steve Harrington, or one of his trademark, side quirked smirks that accompanied his Ray Bans resting on the defined bridge of his perfect nose. Or maybe it was how the soil was damp with a light, faded rain, left over from sunrise, people now flocking outside to get started on mowing their lawns as temperatures brimmed the air with an enriching, yet delicate scent of light florals and winter’s last particles. But then, maybe it was that ice cold Coca Cola with two straws and those double cheeseburgers Steve treated you to on your favorite overlook spot in your neighborhood — quiet, rarely driven on street of middle class homes and your apartment building. He’d laid his coat out for you to sit on, watching cars go by on streets down the small embankment, a simple tree rooted into the hill to give shade, but still enough for you to watch the sun highlight how his biceps flexed beneath his white t-shirt when his arms propped behind his head, ankles crossing over the other, jeans tightening (if that’s even possible) against his toned thighs, his silver chain tucked into his collar, shades still resting comfortably on his eyes.

Your breath had hitched, his beautiful skin already starting to tan. He knew it too, raising, pushing those signature glasses back through vastly overgrown tresses, his nose’s crook finding your cheekbone as he rested. You both inhaled at the same time, Steve smelling of burger grease, sweat, and apple cedarwood, your orbs also privy to observing how his pupils dilated to the sunlight, which gave you the perfect spotlight to the glittering beads of sweat littering the freckles and moles on his jaw. A beautiful amber, layered with the deepest, most intense green you’d ever seen - stare back at you.

~*~

He’d taken you home not long after your lips had met. Your apartment on the same street, one story up and stolen kisses on the stairwell. You immediately went to open your bedroom window and light that candle Steve had purchased for you recently. Spiced Pumpkin Patchouli; rich pumpkin, warm, crisp layers of that patchouli, and touches of cinnamon sugar. The very same one Steve kept in his own place. God were you two pathetic, always smelling like one another or each other’s humble abodes.

No one could tell the difference anymore.

Through thick lashes, his gaze didn’t waver, not even after you offered him a drink and he downed it slowly, your eyes roaming over his throat bobbing with every swallow. It took a few minutes and you were coming apart, scattering to the breeze that flooded your apartment.

“Steve?”

“Hmm?” Though it sounded muffled as he nursed his beer from your holographic wine glass, condensation-soaked fingertips tapping against the crystal, and oh how it looks as if it’s going to shatter in his massive palm, given a stark comparison.

“Don’t look at me that way…”

“Oh? I’m lookin’ at you, honey. What on earth are you gonna do to me now?” He was cocky, that small pudge of his stomach pressed slightly a top his belt buckle, his shirt rucked up.

You had unknowingly gravitated closer towards him, his new curls tickling your forehead, draped through your fingers as they found purchase in his locks, tugging.

“Yeah, s’ what I need. Good girl, honey. You want me, right?”

You’d whimpered into his mouth, practically pleading, eagerly confirming. He’d left his command clear, lips grazing yours as he panted the words across your mouth, “Let’s go to bed, baby.”

~*~

Your clothing came off quickly, rushed to get in the bed beneath your open window, but slow once Steve got you laid down beneath him. Chain tickling your chest, breasts smashed into the tufts of curls scattered to the winds across his sternum. You clung tightly, one hand leveling his backside into pushing him impossibly deeper, the other trading blows between grabbing at his back, his hand, or cradling his face and neck. The fresh Spring air, apple cedarwood, your candle, the coolness of your open window causing goosebumps to erupt over your sex-slick, bare flesh, combined with a panting Steve Harrington and your mattress squeaking as he works to get you both there, it tangles in with Steve as he finds your gaze once more, one tiny pearl of sweat between pinched brows, his focus, tongue licking at the roof of his mouth, his thumb pad caressing your jaw, to giving backhanded knuckle drags across the bone, his tone damp, hooked on rasp with his praises for you, and the way he’s looking at you as if you’re some priceless, explicit art exhibit. And then he’s saying these things;

“You know how wet you are? You know how hard it is to stay inside without slipping out again?”

“Could do this all day until it hurts you to walk.”

“Just let me refer to the list of things I wanna do to you.”

“Tell me it’s alright if I cum. I need you to say I can do it inside of you.”

“The way I always have to feed it to you slowly, so you don’t tap out on me. Fuck.”

“This is home to me, honey.”

~*~

Yeah, that’s probably when. There was definitely something about today.

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mactavishwritings · 1 year

Text

Mi Amor

Alejandro Vargas x Reader

You're an undercover spy for the CIA sent out on a mission. Little do you know, Alejandro and the boys are also after the target.

tw: violence, weapons, suggestive, terribly translate Spanish,

maybe i'll turn this into a series? let me know if you want it to be!

part two

You were the best of the best. You could become anyone the CIA wanted you to be. You could adopt any persona, any character, anything. The CIA loved this about you; they held you in their back pocket for any mission involving undercover work. They sent you in to be their eyes. Your code name was Serpent; working secretly and never getting caught, sliding through crowds like it was water.

This mission was no different. You were dressed in a simple black dress that reached the floor, gold heels that clicked with each step, your hair curled and pinned into a style that strategically hid your comms. You surveyed the room, accepting a flute of champagne from a well dressed waiter. "How we looking in there?" You heard your commander ask you and you raised your glass, thumb in front of your lips to hide them. "Looking good. Target still not located." You looked around the room again and clocked a man in a suit. He wasn't the target, but he very clearly was out of place.

"Teller. We got any other agencies on this?" You whispered into your comms and looked for any other suspicious looking people. "Not that I'm aware of. Zero, you see anything unusual?" You C.O. asked you sniper, who was posted in the office building down the street, who said they did not see anything. You shrugged it off after seeing your target enter the ballroom.

Alejandro looked around the party, nodding at Soap who was standing on the other side of the room. The two had gone undercover to gather information about the next weapons trade. "Lookin' good, hermano." Alejandro chuckled to himself as Soap covered his words with his glass. "You as well. Ghost, how do we look from up there?" Alejandro turned his head to look in Ghost's general direction. "Distracted. Do you have eyes on the target?" Alejandro turned his head and his breath caught in his chest as his eyes landed on the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.

His eyes raked up and down her body, the black dress hugged her curves in the most delicious way. He forced his head back towards Soap, who had an eyebrow raised at Alejandro. "Cat got your tongue?" Soap joked and Alejandro rolled his eyes. "Hey. Please do try and stay focused." Price's voice came through the comms.

You made your way towards the target, Benjamin Turnswell. He was the son of a very rich weapon's dealer and he was also very stupid. Reckless even. You were hoping he thought with his dick and not his brain. You just needed his phone that he carried in his left breast pocket. It contained everything your team needed to make the arrest on Ben's father. You swayed your hips as you walked up to the man, catching his attention immediately. "Well hello." Ben said, dropping the conversation he was having to greet you.

You giggled and held your hand out to him. "Hi." Your voice carried a slight accent that was different than your usual. The man took your hand and kissed your knuckles. You smiled at him and leaned closer to him. "Thank you for inviting me and my father. I'm sorry to say he was unable to join us." You recalled the fake story your C.O. gave you and Ben shook his head. "Oh don't worry beautiful." He smiled and gently took your elbow in his hand.

You smiled back at the man and your eyes shifted quickly to notice the man from early looking at you two. You looked back at Ben before leaning closer to him. "I apologize for my forwardness, but perhaps we can discuss," you lightly dragged your manicured finger down his chest, "elsewhere."

As soon as you two entered the elevator, his lips were on your neck. Your arms were loosely wrapped around his shoulders and you faked a moan to motivate him. He quickly pressed a number and the door closed. Ben grabbed your thigh and you took the hint to lifted your leg and wrapped it around his waist. His hands were unskillful and it made you cringe on the inside.

Soon he brought you to his office. This was part of the plan; you were to get him to his office, get the phone, get rid of Ben, and get out as fast as you could without being seen. It was easy, you were already in the office, now all you had to do was get the phone and get out. Ben picked you and carried you to the desk where he placed you. You tilted your head back and sighed, knowing what came next. "How about you show me what that pretty mouth can do?" Ben smirked, going to undo his pants. You smiled sweetly before grabbing the pin that held your hairdo in place. It was a long, gold pin that was thicker at one end and thin on one end. You stood and moved towards him before driving the hidden weapon into Ben's chest.

The knife quickly ended the man's life after a couple quick stabs and you went into his jacket to grab his phone. "Teller. It's Serpent. I got the phone. The kid is dead. Getting out now." You slipped the phone into the front of your dress and cleaned the hair pin off. You moved Ben's body so that it was hidden from view and slipped out into the hall.

You frozen when you heard voices. You turned your head and saw the man from earlier walking quickly down the hall with another man who had a mohawk. "Shit. Teller, got some heat." You turned and started walking away from the two men. "We see you on the monitor. There's a staircase down the hall that will lead to an exit where Zero and Ocean will be in a car waiting. Next left." You nodded and moved as quick as you could in heels.

Alejandro and Soap moved through the hall, hands on their guns incase of enemy fire. "Office is three doors down. I got two...make that one heat signature. Something weird is happening." Ghost stated over the comms and the two men saw a door open in front of them. "Think that's the door?" Soap asked. "Well, Ben did leave the party with a woman." Alejandro watched as the figured looked in their direction before quickly turning and walking away. The two men made it to the office, finding Ben dead inside. "Shit! He's dead. Someone got to him before we did. Who the else is here?" Price's voice was angry and Alejandro looked down the hall and saw the woman moving fast. "Her. Soap." The two men nodded at each other before moving to catch up.

"Fuck. Teller they better be there." You muttered, hearing the other men find the body. This shouldn't have happened. "Serpent. Get out of there." You heard Zero over the comms and you started to panic. You ripped your heels off and sprinted down the stairs. "SPECIAL FORCES STOP RUNNING!" Your heard a Spanish accent yell after you. "Special forces? Teller! Why am I being chased by Special forces?!" You shouted into your comms. You looked behind you and saw that they were starting to catch up. You burst through the exist door seeing your team's car waiting for you.

You knew you weren't going to be able to reach the car so you grabbed to phone out of your dress and tossed it at Zero, who sensed your planned. Zero caught it before closing the door and having Ocean drive off, just as the Hispanic man grabbed your arm roughly.

Alejandro growled angry as he watched the car take off. "Who the fuck are you?" Soap shouted in the woman's face, but she didn't react. Alejandro roughly grabbed both her arms and brough them behind her back. Being so close, he finally noticed the clear wire that was so familiar to him. "A comm?" Alejandro looked at Soap, who came forward. "Serpent. We will come get you. They cannot hold you. Do not say a word about the miss-" was the last transmission that went through before Soap ripped it out of her ear.

"Serpiente? Is that your name?" Alejandro leaned closer to you, just as Price and Ghost rolled up in the Humvee. "What do we have here?" Price asked, getting out. "A lost lamb." Soap stood back and the Serpent smirked. "Let's take her back to base. See what she knows." Ghost handed Alejandro cuffs and he placed them on the woman. "Ya know, Serpiente, I was hoping to do this in a better situation."

You sighed as you sat in the cell the men placed you in. You had been waiting for hours for someone to come in, either your team or theirs to interrogate you. You were just so bored. Soon the same Hispanic man from before entered the room. You looked over at him with a raised eyebrow. "Hola hermosa." He smirked at you before leaning against the wall. You leaned forward, "Hola guapo." You copied his accent, something you had always been good at doing.

His face read a bit shocked before straightening out again. "How do you know Turnswell?" You smiled before leaning back, crossing your arms over your chest. "Handcuffs huh? Never had that one." You were quick to change the subject away from the mission, buying yourself time. "No. Turnswell." The man pushed himself off the wall and moved towards you. "Or do you prefer ropes? I find I can wear them longer." You winked at the man.

Alejandro felt himself get hot, trying to refocus the interrogation. "Tell. Me. About. Turnswell. How did you know him? Did you kill him? Why did you throw the phone?" He asked angrily, the woman in front of him just sat there. She looked up at his hulking figure and sighed. "I will tell you he was a terrible kisser. I wonder if you'd be any better." Alejandro groaned angrily and was about to start yelling again when the door opened.

"Alejandro. Stop." It was Price. He was standing with a man he had never see before. "Alejandro. That's your name. Good to know." The woman said. Price sighed angrily and rubbed his forehead. "Alejandro, meet the head of the CIA's special task force Angel 626, Milo Teller." Alejandro nodded his head toward the man. "What does this have to do with anything?" Alejandro angrily asked.

"We at 626 have been following the work of the Turnswell family very closely for the past 6 years. You have actually manage to arrest the head of our team and we are here to get her back so if you will please release special agent (Y/N), we would appreciate it and maybe we will even share her findings." Teller smiled tightly at the man and Alejandro looked at you with shock.

You finally stood up, grabbing your heels and stood beside your boss. "With Ben Turnswell dead, we only have a matter of 36 hours to arrest his father which you have spent the last 6 of trying to get information out of me so I suggest you hide your erection and get to work, yeah?" You looked over to Alejandro, who was standing in awe.

#alejandro #alejandro x reader #alejandro x you #alejandro vargas #alejandro vargas imagine #alejandro vargas x reader #alejandro vargas x you #alejandro vargas mw2 #alejandro cod #modern warfare 2 #mw2 #alejandro mw2

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thesightstoshowyou · 10 months

Text

Collective

- Part One -

Vincent Sinclair x F Reader x Asa Emory

Warnings: Violence, blood, threats, brief descriptions of gore

A/N: @quiveringdeer and her headcanon machine got me thinking about these two again, so I’ve given this piece from a few years ago a nice facelift. I hope to continue with part two soon!

It’s mid morning when a man strolls into town, the unforgiving Louisiana heat already simmering on cracked asphalt. He’s maybe mid-forties, alone, and handsome in a rugged way, you’ll admit, in his work boots, double-fronted jeans, and plaid button up. Outdoorsy, you guess.

You watch him through the window as he cautiously surveys the area. When Lester had called to alert you to the newcomer, he’d sounded hesitant, or maybe uneasy. Whatever it was, it’s put you on edge already.

Sauntering out the door of Bo’s shop, you wrinkle your nose at the oppressive heat before forcing a sweet smile across your face.

“Hey there! You lookin’ fer Bo?” The twangy accent is easy to fake after so much practice. He turns to you, the cold look on his face almost tripping you up. Then, his dark eyes quickly dart from your cleavage to your face and you regain composure.

He’s only a man. Relax.

“So I’ve been instructed,” he responds to your question. His voice is deep and rich like bourbon. You’d swoon if you didn’t know he’d be roadkill before the sun sets.

“He should be back in about a half hour. Had to run to town fer supplies.” The man hums noncommittally, a displeased scowl on his face. He glances around again as you speak, studying each house in detail. His eyes are piercing, calculating. There’s intelligence there, beyond his gaze. He reminds you of Vincent.

You suppress a shudder. Best get him somewhere else before he starts looking too closely.

Plastering another smile on your face, you announce, “We, uh, have a pretty good wax museum here. I can show it to ya’ if you’d like. Keep ya’ entertained while we wait fer Bo.” The man raises an eyebrow, indicating he would rather do a million other things than look at some half-rate wax museum in this shit hole town. You can hardly blame him.

“Lead the way,” he replies, surprising you.

Alright then.

You must leave the shade offered by Bo’s shop in order to lead the man up the hill toward the museum. As you walk, he studies every building, like he’s searching for something. For other people, you wager.

Unease grows. You’re uncomfortable with this man who is obviously too smart for his own good, but you don’t have much of a choice. You have a job to do, a job that is the only thing keeping you from a knife to the gut and an eternity encased in wax.

Distract him before he notices too much. “What brings you to the area, Mister…?”

“Emory. Call me Asa.” He finally peels his gaze away from the surroundings to look at you. “Entomology conference in New Orleans.”

A bug guy, huh? Be dumb. “Entomology. Is that like, uh, snakes an’ stuff?”

“Insects,” he corrects tersely. You giggle and nod, like you hadn’t just insulted his field of expertise. You wipe your dripping forehead on the back of your arm, hoping he thinks you’re sweating from the heat and not from nerves.

Finally, you reach the museum. He pauses to give one hard look at the Sinclair house perched atop the hill before holding the door open for you. You thank him and slip inside, relieved to be out of the heat.

The museum is oppressively silent, a fact to which you can never grow accustomed. It’s a perpetual funeral, an unmarked grave commanding muted respect for its enshrined dead. You wonder if Asa feels it too.

That eerie, itchy feeling tickles the back of your neck and you know he’s close now, close enough to see you and Asa. Somewhere in the dark lurks Vincent, ready to dispatch the man at your side.

Clearing your throat, you motion to the first piece: The woman with her hand raised as if in greeting, frightful smile stretched across her face. “This is—

Your words lodge in your throat along with your heart when you’re grabbed from behind and pinned against the wall. The hand on the back of your head grinds your face into wax. Your cry of shock morphs into a choked inhale when the point of a knife is pushed to your throat.

“You’re going to tell me what you have going on here or I’m going to open up an artery,” Asa growls in your ear. Panic surges through your bloodstream and you thrash, heedless of the knife that nicks your flesh. Warmth trickles down your neck and chest to soak into your shirt.

“P-Please don’t touch me, p-please, he won’t like it, please let me go.” You drop the fake accent as you beg, tears welling in your eyes, neck straining to look at the man behind you.

You freeze when a thumb brushes over the brand on your shoulder, your damned shirt having slipped down in the scuffle. Asa traces the white scar, the dips and curves of the embellished “S.”

“Interesting,” he muses.

“Don’t—

You both hear the approaching footsteps at the same time, quick taps that disturb the hush around you. Asa reacts first. He whips you both around and you shriek, snapping your eyes shut and bracing for impact.

The crowbar stops its downward arc inches from your face. A tremulous wheeze leaves your lips as Vincent leaps back and hunches down into a defensive position. He’s twitchy, agitated, the good eye behind the mask flicking to the hands on you, to your terrified face, to Asa’s calm expression.

Asa grips you around the middle, cool steel slotting under your chin. He walks you in a half circle so he’s no longer caged in by the wax wall behind him. Your heartbeat pounds in your ears as you allow yourself to be maneuvered, the pressure of the blade on your flesh more than enough incentive. As you move, Vincent’s own knife swishes as it’s withdrawn from its sheath.

You both come to a stop next to one of the statues, the one of the man holding his hat aloft. You expect to keep moving, but find Asa has fallen as still as the figure beside you. His head turns and you realize he’s closely inspecting the statue. Slowly, he brings you both closer. What’s he looking for…?

With a swift kick, Asa knocks the statue to the ground. The upraised arm and the man’s head crack when the statue collides with the floor, limb and skull bouncing and rolling away. Revealed to him now are the layers of real, human flesh, muscle, organs, and bone encased in wax, preserved for all time.

For a moment, everyone stands frozen. The severed head rolls to a stop near Vincent’s boots, but his eye remains firmly locked on the knife at your throat. Your breath leaves you in a shuddering exhale.

Adjusting his grip on the blade, Asa hums thoughtfully. With the toe of his boot, he tips the wax victim to get a better look at its grotesque insides. There’s no tension in his body, no change in his slow, even breathing. He appears completely unperturbed by this gruesome discovery.

Speaking to Vincent, he asks curiously, “Are they all people?” Cautiously, Vincent straightens, tilting his head suspiciously at the nonchalant question. “Well?” Asa presses, gripping you tighter, applying pressure to the knife until you squeak.

Slowly, the wax mask bobs up and down in a nod.

“Very unique,” Asa comments. He drags you back to the next scene, a man kneeling over a woman on a sofa. As he looks over the figures, he adds, “Always a pleasure to meet a fellow artist.”

Artist.

A fellow artist.

What…what does he mean?

“And this is your muse?” His tone is mocking now, the hand around your waist sliding up to your chin to give your head a teasing shake.

Vincent growls, his grip so tight on the handle of his blade his knuckles blanche. Asa chuckles quietly and squeezes your jaw so tight you whimper. Vincent moves to take a step closer, but Asa tips your head up with the blade, pressing the point to your fluttering pulse.

“You’ll get her back, but first I need a few things from you.”

#asa emory #vincent sinclair #the collector 2009 #the collection 2012 #house of wax 2005 #bo sinclair #vincent sinclair x reader #asa emory x reader #thesightstoshowyou #crossover au #flashing gif

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satrs · 1 year

Text

Can’t feel my face - bllk x fem!Reader N°6

decided to switch up the perspective, cuz I feel more comfy with this one :)

Tags: !NSFW CONTENT MDNI! grinding. Oral(fem recieving).

also not proofread

"YOU LOOK GOOD. REALLY GOOD."

Sae was quick to comment on your appearance, dressed in the sexiest dress he'd ever seen a woman wear, unable to stop his eyes from wandering all over your body, longing to take you in the back of his car again.

But he contained himself to do so.

"Well, thank you. You look quite handsome yourself.", you told the young man, earning a sly smirk from him in return.

His phone rang, causing him to curse under his breath at the sight of business calling. "Urghh, need to take that. You can go, I'll follow after."

You handed him your car keys and made your way to the front of the establishment, feeling various eyes on your body, whispering dirty comments into your direction that all went over your head.

As you stepped through the door, you noticed that the stairs to the downstairs event were blocked, loud music coming from the further front of the entrance.

As you stepped inside, you came to view with a lively party - many women dressed in scandalous clothing, some men begging for their attention and time, others enjoying their time sensually dancing with them or just enjoying their time by themselves, ordering shot after shot from the bartender.

Deciding you would want one good drink yourself, you made your way over to the bar, hips swaying with each step you took.

You felt good, and you sure as hell knew you looked damn good as well.

You bit your lip in anticipation as you noticed who the bartender was, hair down, frown accompanying him at the sight of you at the bar, leaning against it while a smirk adored your remarkable figures.

"Not only boxer, pastry enjoyed but also a bartender? Wow, Barou. What a multitalent."

I'll show you what else I'm talented at, he thought to himself, preparing another answer instead.

"Keep that mouth of yours shut and tell me what you want, brat."

"Whatever is fine", you stated, wondering how you could make his dominant attitude crumble. As he turned around to get your shot ready, you questioned him in interest.

"But for real. Why are you doing... this?", you motioned at him, earning a huff in return. "That fuckin' rich boy told me that I would have to bartend if I lose, so now I gotta' do it."

You hummed, understanding. You kept quiet, eying him up and down, causing the young male to raise an eyebrow in question.

"When are you off?", you questioned. He didn't fail to notice the seductive undertone in your voice, dark orbs sucking you right into him.

Glancing at the clock on the wall of the bar, his eyes shooting right back to hers, "one more hour", he stated, he went off to clean up some of the remaining glasses, leaving you standing, watching his figure disappear from your sight.

Bored, you looked around, noticing some pair of eyes looking intensely at you.

Nagi.

You smiled as he approached you, wearing a tight, white turtle-neck T-shirt, adored by a golden chain around his neck, face painted with a playful small smile.

Barou watched you and Nagi interact from afar, growing sick at the sight of him - out of all people, with you. He knew that Nagi noticed that he had an interest in the young woman the older Itoshi introduced them to- hell, he knew that Nagi also did.

Nagi must be doing this on purpose, flirting with her so openly without a care in the world, right in front of him.

"Yo, King", Nagi waved Barou to him, "bring us two whiskey shots. Pretty please." Barou cursed under his breath, wanting to wipe that damn smirk off of Nagi's face - tired of someone like him disrespecting him.

Not wanting to cause any trouble with the owner of all this tumult, he complied, a deep frown visible as he approached the both of you.

"Thanks. And would you please stop lookin' like that? You'll scare away the guests." Barou clenched his hand into a tight fist, turning around his heel before he would start something he couldn't finish.

"Let's go somewhere else. Yeah, doll?", he inquired, earning a nod from you. As the both of you walked to where the VIP section was located, his hand swiftly creeped around you, comfortably placing it over your ass, causing you to hide a smile in excitement.

You weren't drunk, just -taking two confident boosts- as you would call it, feeling bolder and more comfortable in Nagi's presence. You made yourself comfortable on his lap, hands around his neck as his hand is placed at the valley of your ass, the both of you talking about various topics.

He often tried to go further, only to getting stopped by your innocent facade - realizing your implications of teasing him.

"C'mon, doll, tell me what you're tryin' to do", he whined playfully and impatient, causing you to giggle, the action making you unintentionally move around his lap just right, curve of your ass directly rubbing onto his semi-hard dick.

You moved closer to him, lips almost brushing his, eyes switching between his eyes and lips. He was about to lean in and capture your lips into a heated kiss, when you pulled away completely, getting off his lap.

Your hand was placed on his thigh, lightly squeezing it, earning a huff from the man. Nagi spread his legs at your action, body filled with desire for you.

“I’m sorry, handsome,“ you began, retreating your hand from his thigh, leaning near his ear to whisper the rest of your sentence, “but I got somewhere to be.”

He watched your figure disappear out of his sigh, looking down to the painful tent in his pants, cursing under his breath,

"Fuck, what a hassle."

You found yourself at the bar again, patiently waiting for Barou, since one hour had already passed.

He soon came to view, throwing a towel over his shoulder, heading over to your direction to go into his break.

He halted at the sight of you, surprised that you actually waited for him, chest swelling with pride.

“You’re late”, you mentioned, causing the man to show veins of irritation, “And you can fuck off.”

You smiled at his answer, walking up close to him, hand placed on his broad chest.

„Nah. I’d prefer to fuck you.“

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

“Don’t stop Barou, oh fuck!”, your moans echoed through the staff bathroom, back arching as you felt his tongue and fingers work magic between your legs, while your leg was thrown over his shoulder.

You threw your head back at one particularly deep move of his fingers, biting your lip in pleasure.

“Don’t call me by my surname when I’m literally knuckles deep inside your cunt”, he mumbled through your folds, causing you to whine at the vibration of his voice against your heat.

“You’re doing so good Sho‘“, you breathed out, shamelessly drooling from the corner of your lips, almost falling off the sink you're leaning against.

Barou's dick stirred inside his pants as you called out his nickname, groaning against your heat. „You’re so wet, princess. All for me, yeah?“

You hummed in approval, taking a tight hold on his long hair as you neared your orgasm.

“Make no damn mess, I still gotta work”, the young man grunted, tight grip on your thighs.

His eyes were intensely focused on your facial expressions. “Look at me, or I’m not goin' to make you cum.”, he spat.

You complied, falling into submission. You looked him right in the eye as you came, moaning out his name in pleasure.

„That’s right. Give it to me, he groaned through your folds, rough hand slapping down onto your exposed ass cheek.

You soon came down from your high, disappointed at your behavior. He was supposed to be the one to submit to you, not you. But you understood why he was called the King now, his overwhelming dominance now making sense.

He threw the towel he had on his shoulder right at your face, making his way out the restroom,“ make sure to clean up“, he turned his head while flashing you a handsome smirk.

“Damn Tyrant.”

You soon stepped out of the restroom, noticing a figure standing against the wall in the dark of the room.

You halted in your tracks, eyebrow raising in question, waiting for the dark figure to step out of the shadows.

"Well, if it isn't Y/N! Welcome! Are you enjoying yourself?", it was Reo, walking over to you to embrace you in a hug, startling you at the action.

You looked at him, "Actually, no. It's way too loud in here", you stated honestly, earning an understanding hum from the male. "Well, we could get to the top. Just the two of us", he implied, voice laced in lust.

She agreed, following suit after him, to an elevator in the far back of the strip club. As they stepped in, he pushed the bottom that would lead them to the top floor, leaning against the wall of the elevator.

He looked at you from the corner of his eye, the teasing smirk vanishing as fast as it appeared on his face.

His hand took a hold of your chin, wiping some remaining saliva from the corner of your lip, intensely looking you in the eye before retreading his hand away, "There, you go. Did he really lick it that good to leave you drooling?"

Your breath hitched in your lungs, cheeks painted by a tint red.

Got her.

When the elevator came to a halt and opened its door, you saw a jaw-dropping apartment before your eyes, causing you to look around it, humming, impressed.

"You like it?", Reo questioned, his breath hot at your ear, his hand sneaking its way around your shoulder. You hummed, walking to the large couch that was displayed in the middle of the living room.

"Make yourself feel at home", Reo mentioned, earning a soft smile from you as you seated yourself on the couch.

He went into the kitchen, coming back with an expensive looking champagne, "You want some? It's the best, trust me." You hesitated, not wanting to cause any big circumstances for the man.

But he waved you off, insisting it would be ok. He is the richest man in the country, after all. Did you forget?

You and Reo had a nice conversation, really. You talked about many different topics, him learning more about you and you more about him, him - not the Billionaire Mikage Reo.

He loved listening to you, learning more about you. But it also made him greedy about you, much greedier than he was and even intended to be.

You talked to him with no filter, not caring about the billions he had in his bank account.

This caused a feeling that confused him. At first, he thought it was lust - lusting over your perfection of a body. Then it moved onto greed - greedy to learn more and more about you, be near you, touching you.

But what is this bewilderment? He has not once thought sexually about you in the pastime the two of you were talking. How long was it? One hour? Or two? He didn't care. He just wanted to-

"Ohhh, so that's where you're hidin' ma'." Who the fuck?

"Whatcha' two doin' all alone up here?", Shidou‘s loud voice rang through the room, the both of you snapping your heads into his direction, Reo's tongue clicking in annoyance,

He stood there, dressed in gray sweatpants and a black top, show casting his muscles through it. His hair were different from usual, styled downwards, some strands of hair escaping to the front, hanging in his face.

"Mind if I join the fun?"

ᵃˡˡ ᶜᵒⁿᵗᵉⁿᵗ ᵇᵉˡᵒⁿᵍˢ ᵗᵒ k-azus.°

#blue lock smut #itoshi sae smut #itoshi #itoshi sae #shidou x you #shidou x reader #shidou ryuusei x reader #bllk shidou #oliver aiku smut #oliver aiku #blue lock oliver #barou smut #blue lock x you #blue lock x female reader #reo mikage #nagi smut #blue lock nagi

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mysticmunson · 1 year

Text

lone star, part two

summary: eddie had packed up his things and moved to the big city, indianapolis, but when he enters the fast-growing world of the adult entertainment industry, it gets lonely.

rating: R

warnings: smut, filmed sexual acts, drinking, smoking

authors note at the end :)

word count: 7k

Simple and sweet.

The words entrenched themselves in Eddie’s brain as he got ready the next morning, making sure his hair looked nice and even wearing blue jeans rather than his typical black ones. This was his chance to prove he could be marketable as a boy next door, not just used in obscure films that, even though he loved, were limiting him. Plus a chance to make things up with you.

“Woah. First off, I thought you didn’t work today. Second, whose pants are those? If they’re mine, I swear to God, Munson-” Robin rambled, a half eaten donut in her hand as she sat in her work uniform with Steve at the table. Eddie walked past them to grab a pastry for himself, walking back in with a mouthful of food.

“They’re mine, sweetheart.” He remarked condescendingly, earning a certain finger from her as Steve laughed, taking another sip of his coffee. “But Bill called last night, wants me to do a shoot today, have to be there at 9.”

They nodded, continuing to eat their meals in peace as the clock ticked closer to 8:30. Noticing the time, he scarfed down the remaining bites and quickly went to the bathroom. He brushed his teeth extra long (even using mouthwash for good measure), fluffed his hair, and put on his rings. He felt a little odd wearing a plain black t-shirt, blue jeans and his white sneakers, but it was just another aspect of his profession.

Playing the part.

The nervous jitters he felt transcended down the highway and into the studio building, walking in 5 minutes to 9. Fiddling with the rings on his fingers, he scanned his surroundings for Bill, Rich, or you.

“Eddie!” Bill exclaimed, making him spin until he caught the older man’s eyes, body poking through his office door and summoning him closer. “You’re lookin’ sharp, buddy.”

“Thanks man.” Eddie snickered, patting his shoulder as he walked in, seeing the other two people he was searching for there. Giving a quick wave and a smile, which you returned while Rich did an upward head nod.

Leaning against the wall, Eddie watched as Bill looked through the papers on his desk, the leather chair squeaking as he leaned forward. The rustling of papers disrupted the consistent tapping of Rich’s nails against the arm of the chair. You sat silent, hands in your lap as you looked down at your nails painted with a white strip at the top.

“Alrighty, so we need a flix today, but this is last minute so there’s not much planned. What do you have in mind?” Bill asked, looking at you as your head popped up, straightening your posture.

Sitting quietly for a moment, contemplating your options that seemed too vague to necessarily pinpoint, you made a soft hum noise.

“Well, I haven’t done anything with, like, spanking? Or choking?” You peeped, warmth rising to your cheeks despite everyone in the room seeing you spread eagle. Vocalizing your desires seemed much worse than just exhibiting them.

Eddie swears they had to have heard his stomach sink, twisting into knots as your request bounced off every crevice in his brain. Rubbing his chin and feeling the stubble, he nodded in comprehension, awaiting Bill’s response.

Bill chuckled as he pushed his glasses up as usual, someone needed to get him a new pair. Fiddling with the sheet in his hand, he pursed his lips in a suppressed smile, glancing down at his calendar. It was barely legible with red pen scribbling and black marker crossing out to add new things.

“I like it, I think we should do a scene like that next week. But we still are determining what your first introduction will be. If we come out swinging with the more extreme stuff, we’ll lose the shock factor. Would it be alright if we did a calmer scene?” He proposed, clasping his hands in front of him as you nodded, tucking a stray hair behind your ear.

Eddie could’ve kissed Bill at that moment, strangled him into a hug and lifted him off the ground. Ultimately, as long as it wasn’t something Eddie strongly opposed, he went with the flow. If you wanted to do a more intense scene, he would oblige, but he was relieved when it turned out to be plainer.

“We have some leftover props from Aiden’s scene last week, could do a date night scene? Roses and shit?” Rich coughed, his deep voice catching in his voice before sipping his coffee. Bill clapped, giving a thumbs up before flickering his gaze from you to Eddie, both of you nodding.

“Alright! Meet back here in about an hour, we’ll get you all done up and start filming.” Bill stated, quickly putting it on his calendar with Rich being the first to leave. You and Eddie followed, wandering in silence to the front door, a gust of wind sounding as it opened.

Standing in silence, Eddie debated on a good starting sentence, but his mind went blank. He could ask if she was excited for the scene? But what if that sounded cocky or she wasn’t thrilled? Maybe compliment her shoes, they were a pair of black sneakers with blue laces, pretty cool. His hand played at his lip subconsciously as he leaned against the building.

“Eddie?” You called, snapping him from his trance, “Do you know of any place to grab a bite to eat? I was running late and didn’t get breakfast.” Turning towards him, he nodded, pushing himself from the wall and closer to you. The smell of his musky cologne was pleasant, different than the one he used on set previously.

“There’s a really good place a few minutes walking from here, it's a local diner.” He informed, pointing a ring clad finger in the distance, “I could take you there?”

You agreed, the two of you walking down the old sidewalk surrounded by fresh grass. The stroll was quiet, only the sounds of cars driving past and the squeak of both sets of shoes.

Eddie wanted to talk, but he was too wrapped up in his head to form anything. Everything he thought he could say was twisted into something else entirely, already seeing you storming off and begging to have the film with Steve be your introduction.

The small diner was at the corner of the block, a small set of stairs leading to the glass doors. It was empty, besides for a few miscellaneous truck drivers or construction workers who were getting a cup of coffee.

Sitting at the table in the corner, the menu was an all-American breakfast, your mouth was watering at just the whiff of it. The clink of Eddie’s rings that tapped rhythmically against the counter, the silver rim around it reflecting his hand in abstract shapes.

“Morning, Eddie. You’re up early!” The waitress approached, notepad in hand as you both looked up. Her gray hair was pulled into a low bun with a yellow button up dress, accompanied by a black waist apron. Her eyes had subtle wrinkles, laugh lines that accentuated her soft smile, and her nails painted a pale pink.

“Morning, Veronica. Had to be at work early.” He laughed, handing her the menu, “I’ll have a coffee and the number 3.” She mumbled “Gotcha”, barely audibly, scribbling it down before facing you.

“I’ll have the number 5 please with apple juice.” You replied, handing her the flimsy plastic menu that she exchanged with a nod. She walked off into the back, the silver door swinging back and forth till it came to a halt.

The decor was 1950s themed, checkerboard flooring with some neon signs teasing 5 cent soda. The shiny red seats at the bar were mounted to the floor, the booths matching similarly across the rest of the place. It was charming, providing a comforting feeling of home cooked meals.

“I don’t think I’ve had the number 5 before.” Eddie spoke, your attention snapping to him as he looked at you, no clear emotion present. But then again, what kind of emotion should he be having over your choice of breakfast.

“It’s chocolate chip pancakes and bacon, don’t worry I have a toothbrush.” You jested while Veronica brought over your drinks, setting down coasters to prohibit the condensation from pooling.

The steam from Eddie’s cup rose to his nose as he put in creamer and sugar, stirring it and watching it go to a lighter shade of brown. Pulling out the spoon, he watched the small tornado within it dissipate before taking a sip, sighing at it going down his throat.

“Don’t worry about it, once had a partner eat tuna and garlic bread before a scene.” He assured, but the small smile on his lips let you laugh, placing a hand over your mouth to regain some composure.

There were some unspoken rules in your line of work. Spending your day physically with or in someone means you need to be extra cautious on hygiene, like showering with nicer body wash or putting on extra strong deodorant.

Even when you would film alone for solos, you took additional routes for cleanliness. There’s very few things more embarrassing than someone saying you smelled bad or were dirty when you were intending to be clean.

Eating tuna and garlic in one sitting is a dangerous concoction by itself, but before a shoot was a whole different type of sadistic. The pair didn’t even sound appetizing, your stomach twisting at the mere concept.

“Did she hate you?” You pondered, but he only shrugged, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he took another drink. You took one as well, wiping your dampened hand on your jeans and seeing them go from medium wash to a patch of dark denim.

“Dunno. But you’re the first adult I’ve ever seen order apple juice at a restaurant.” He pointed out, his chin resting on his knuckles looking down at your drink with confusion.

“Are you saying you don’t like apple juice?” You inquired, not being able to believe someone could dislike it. Maybe it seemed childish, but it put you at ease, caffeine would only make you more jittery.

“Not at all, it’s great.” He grinned, tucking some of his hair behind his ear, peering over his shoulder to see Veronica returning with plates of hot food.

The chocolate chip pancakes before you smelt heavenly, a slab of butter melting on top with syrup on the side, while the bacon faintly sizzled after just coming off the grill. This alone could make you horny enough to film.

Eddie’s meal was waffles, crispy with butter and syrup, with a side of scrambled eggs and bacon. It overcrowded the blue ceramic plate, corners of it hanging off the sides, but that’s how you want homestyle food.

Thanking Veronica as she confirmed you both were set, you dug into the feast before you, falling into a more natural silence than the one on your walk. There was a small TV up on the counter playing the news, covered in static and projecting dodgy volume.

The pancakes melted in your mouth, soft and fluffy with the hints of sweetness. An accidental moan of satisfaction rumbled from your chest, pointing your fork down at the plate for emphasis, but felt the heat rise to your cheeks.

“Glad you like it,” Eddie chuckled, “Lets just hope I’m half as good as those.”

The rest of breakfast went smoothly, brief commentary commencing in between chewing and eyes averting to the news as it forecasted the weather or moments of good deeds in the city. It must have been a slow day.

The watch ticked on, giving you two only 15 minutes to scurry back to set. Despite your protests, Eddie paid for the meal while you weren’t paying attention, sneaking Veronica the cash underneath.

With full tummies, you walked down the sidewalk and looked at the road, now quieter as rush hour concluded.

“Thoughts on the diner?” He peeped, glancing at you to see an initial reaction. He knew you enjoyed it, you moaned at the first bite, but it didn’t hurt to have some reassurance.

Before you could answer, his stride halted yours, looking at him confused. He mumbled something about chocolate on your lip, swiping his thumb at the corner bringing it to his own mouth. The moment wasn’t intentional, Eddie didn’t even process his hand coming to your face, something that felt more intimate than anything thus far.

“It was wonderful, thank you again, Eddie.” You stuttered, hand pressing on your lower stomach from the outside of your green sweater as you continued to walk. He felt his cheeks warm, you didn’t say his name much, but it was nice when you did.

Holding the door open for you, the warm air of the office forced you to scrunch your sleeves to your elbows, walking to your dressing room down the hall. A man stood inside, setting up different shades of base makeup, along with every color of eyeshadow imaginable.

Your presence wasn’t made known until the door clicked behind you, his head shooting up as he smiled. His hair was a soft blonde, a dangle earring peeking from behind the waves, with a pair of gold, thin rimmed glasses. His outfit was simple, an abstract designed button up with a white tank top exposed from the top button, and black slacks.

“You must be Eos, I’m Henry, nice to meet you.” He introduced, extending his hand over the folding chair that you met gladly. Enchanted by his trinkets, you watched him set up in awe, slightly unable to believe he couldn’t make all of this into a makeup look.

Maybelline and Revlon were the only two brands you could list off the top of your head, but now the names of French designers and suggestive adjectives branded themselves on the bottles. He motioned for you to sit, the lightbulbs surrounding the mirror illuminating with the click of a button, buzzing for a fleeting moment.

Cold swatches of foundation stroked against your jaw as he leaned back, lips pressing together before he wiped two of them away. Picking up his choice, he pumped it on the back of his hand before painting it with a brush, blending to your hair and neck.

“How long have you been doing this?” You questioned, watching the cream blend seamlessly into your skin.

“About two days.” He quipped without a beat, your eyes widening as your mouth popped open, “I’m kidding, about four years.”

Laughing as he grabbed the concealer, he put it under your eyes and between your eyebrows, plus over the pesky pimple on your chin.

“Would it be appropriate to ask how long you’ve been working?” Henry asked, his voice genuine without a sliver of judgment, maneuvering the product around to cover the discolored areas.

“Working in general since I was 16, but I’ve only been doing adult… stuff for a few months. Mostly solos till this week.” You confided as he nodded, grabbing some powder to set your face.

“Must be why I haven’t seen you here before, I work on almost everyone, even did Bill’s makeup for fun once.” He revealed, making you smirk, wishing you had seen your boss covered in shades of extravagant eyeshadow.

Leaving Henry to his work, you closed your eyes and tried to calm your nerves. No matter what job you pursued, the jitters followed, adding extra tension to your shoulder blades and back. The successful breakfast made you hopeful of a fresh start with Eddie, but your mind taunted at the thought that it was a fluke. You couldn’t bother to care too much as the smell of pressed powder hit the apples of your cheeks.

Eddie did his typical routine of playing air guitar from his boombox, keeping it at a reasonable volume after one too many scoldings from Bill and Rich. Sneaking in a quick shot of tequila for confidence, he shook his limbs with deep huffs, looking at the popcorn ceiling above him.

His prep time was significantly shorter than his partners as he just needed to show up and get hard. If it was an abnormal day, there were stashes of raunchy magazines to get him riled up. Not only did he not want to touch them as some were older than he was, but waiting 21 years to have sex gave him a fair amount of stamina.

The typical butterflies in his stomach appeared on schedule, noticing the black clock inching closer to showtime. Anita, the head of the costuming department, left a nice outfit hanging up with a pair of oxford on the oddly colored carpet. The pleated dress pants fit his slender legs nicely, recalling the last time he wore something decorous was to funerals, but he should probably keep that to himself.

The freshly ironed white button up felt soft against his skin, tucking it in and rolling the sleeves to his elbows. The black ink that decorated his arms stood out even more against such a fair tone. Looking in the illuminated mirror, he adjusted every crevice he could spot before meddling with the top few buttons of his shirt.

Opting to leave the top one open, he took off his guitar pick necklace, placing it in the drawer to his left. While there was likely no one coveting the old plastic plectrum, he kept on guard as often as he could. He recalled the conversation at the diner while fetching his blue toothbrush, scrubbing extra thoroughly to avoid hypocrisy.

The glass bottle of cologne on the shelf reached a halfway point as he coated himself, giving one spritz down his pants for extra assurance. Shoving the leather shoes on his feet, he flew open the door and grabbed it before it crashed with the wall. The hallway buzzed with chatter as scenes changed, props scattered on the floor that Eddie made sure to dodge as efficiently as he could.

The set was pristine, looking like the bedroom of an upper middle class family, the kind Eddie used to dream of having to be able to cover his posters across the paint. The bedside table had a small lamp, illuminating the stack of books beneath it and a small jewelry dish with tangled necklaces.

The cocoon of nerves winding tight in his belly grew firmer, his throat constricting on the blowing air conditioning. Rubbing his neck and forcing a cough, he tapped his foot against the rug placed beneath the ‘room’ set up.

Hearing a growing bundle of voices, he turned to see Bill and Rich rambling, hands flying for emphasis and extravagance. But behind them was you and Henry, linked arms to keep your feet steady in the tall heels.

Your hair was done casually, falling to your back in curls against your bare shoulders. The black dress had thin straps and a heart shaped neckline that accentuated your bust before flowing to your midthigh. Bidding Henry farewell, you walked further onto the soundstage and closer to Eddie.

The heels were blisters waiting to happen, rubbing at your ankle and big toe in an uncomfortable way. Despite this, you adored your outfit, feeling grateful that Henry had vetoed the first dress Anita brought that was a vibrant pink with black stripes.

“Hey Eddie.” You approached him, smiling beneath your rosy red lipstick that would soon litter his skin.

“Hey.” He spoke, voice quieter than it had been just an hour earlier, but as your lips parted to check in, it was time to set up.

The plot was simple enough. You were a couple that just got back from stellar date night, one where sex isn’t on your mind as you drive or as you walk in your house. However when the lights to the bedroom flicker on, there’s something boiling beneath both of you as you want to prove how much adoration you have for one another.

Scenes like this could be more intimidating than intense ones. Instead of the power dynamics being physical, like being tied or gagged, this was emotional. To be convincing, you have to play the part as well as you can, that having sex wasn’t just to come, but to be so close to someone you feel within your bones already.

“Sorry, excuse me.” Eddie mumbled, escaping the group to walk to his dressing room, closing the door quickly. Rich and Bill gave each other a look of confusion, before Rich took the initiative to set up the camera.

Filming Bill was a frantic mess, leaving everyone in his path frazzled, just like always. With panic in his eyes, he wordlessly noted this wasn’t like Eddie, and you knew that. With careful steps, you neared his wooden door.

A flashback to your first encounter flickered in your brain, hesitating your fist until you eventually caved. A muffled ‘Yeah?’ was barely audible, but it gave you enough of a warrant to enter, slowly pushing it to anticipate any refusal.

Eddie didn’t know what was wrong with him. His stomach felt like it was getting wrung out, contorting into shapes as his chest felt heavy. The overstimulation of voices, bodies, and objects infiltrated every one of his senses, believing he could even taste the words leaving anothers mouth.

Not even registering his departure, he somehow made it to his room, much quieter and subtle.. The thing he couldn’t escape was his body, despite the exchange of environment, it still felt constrained. Rubbing his hands against his face, he paced as he plotted some way to feign serenity for just an hour.

Picking at his nails, he replied to the knock with little thought, not looking up as the person had fully stepped in.

“Eddie, you okay?” You questioned, guiding the handle back until it clicked shut. He released a forceful huff, running a hand through his long hair.

“Yeah, sorry, I don’t know, I just feel kinda off. My chest and stomach feel tight.” He affirmed, still looking at his shoes and shoving his fists in his pockets. He familiarized himself with the inner stitches, the way the miniscule thread bound such material together, the inner to the outer layers.

Cautiously taking a step forward, he tilted his head to meet your line of sight as you showed concern. Your eyes were much more tender than the ones he saw under the harsh stage lights, the mellow aura of the room at the moment made your feature appear softer.

Soft hands cradled his face, thumbs running across the lines of his cheeks, putting just a hint of pressure that miraculously made him placid. Inching north, the application on the exterior creases of his eyes made them flutter shut as he took a hefty breath. Your fingers crawled closer as you rubbed between his eyebrows, sliding them back down to cradle his face.

“Where did you learn that?” Eddie questioned, feeling more relaxed than he had in days, the taut muscles causing him aches were weightless.

“My mom used to do that to me when I’d get fidgety, I did it to my younger sister when she was upset. Must be magic.” You smiled, relieved that the close contact wasn’t awkward and welcomed, watching his cheeks flush to a natural hue. “I’ll give you a second to get ready.”

He watched as you walked away, closing the door quietly with the patter of heels following. He could still feel the tender caress against his face, the pads of your fingers skimming his scruff and the scar between his eyebrows after he hit a swingset as a kid.

Sitting on the edge of his chair, he took controlled breaths, finding a proper headspace for the scene. He needed to be gentle, but passionate. Everyone in that room needed to be convinced that they had made love millions of times prior, knowing the other's body as well as they know their own. He thought back to the first time he met you, how you moaned against his lips when he gripped your thighs and tugged at his hair when his tongue flickered over your breasts.

With his pants feeling tighter, he hopped up just in time as everyone rushed to assemble the finishing touches. Your hair was being sprayed once more, thanking the stylist and walking to the edge of the stage. Eddie went up beside you, standing shoulder to shoulder, observing how each and every aspect needed to be just right.

“Thanks by the way.” He interrupted, putting his hands behind his back and clasping them.

“Anytime.” You teased, but you knew you would actually do it if he asked, especially with those button eyes. Shutting the prop door in front of the two of you, Eddie held it still in fear it would fall on top of you.

With the finishing touches, it was time to start. The slate was filled out for scene one, take one as Bill and Rich called their cues for sound and filming. With a snap of plastic, Rich’s voice boomed over the room as it fell silent, “Action!”

Eddie opened the door, allowing you to walk in first, following the instructions given. You were to walk in first, giving the camera a chance to scan your body, and give the scene a quiet moment before everything began. Time was given to observe Eddie as he shut the door and approached you narrowly.

“That restaurant was really good, tonight was so fun.” You professed, turning cautiously and flipping your hair over your shoulder.

“I’m glad, but is tonight already over?” He questioned with the corner of his lips turning up, arms snaking around your waist, pulling you closer. You could feel the outside of his trousers, pressing into your lower stomach.

You shrugged, putting your hands behind his neck, fiddling with the collar. With your lip between your teeth, you furrowed your eyebrows together in faux thought. He looked at you expectantly, the lack of a script was making him overthink any hesitation in your speech, but you hadn’t given him a reason to worry yet.

“I don’t know, you didn’t get me dessert.” You pouted, pressing your chin to his chest, looking up at him. Laughing boisterously, his head tilted back as his Adam's apple bobbed, shaking his head as if he simultaneously couldn’t believe, but expected the rebuttal.

A firm hand smacked then grabbed your ass, making you squeal as he lifted you up, arms shifting below your bottom. The giggles were genuine as he walked towards the bed, slouched over his shoulder and bright lights blinding any surroundings.

“Put me down!” You yelp, putting a firm hand on his own butt that was now in arms reach. He jolted, making a tsk noise, dropping you onto the bed and bouncing up.

“You’re gonna regret that.” He teased, straddling over you as he unbuttoned his shirt. Propping to your elbows, you watched in amusement as he struggled to get them undone with his thick fingers, tongue poking out in concentration.

Sitting up, your smaller fingers were able to undo them efficiently, but you indulge in his body in front of you. Running a hand against his stomach, a hint of hair above his belt buckle made you warm, pressing a kiss above his belly button while pulling the shirt from his pants.

Dramatically flinging it off for comedic effect, you began the examination of his belt. Pulling the leather through the metal buckle, it made a satisfying sound as it dragged against the fabric and falling to the floor. The noise alone made your thighs clench,

As you went for his pants, he grabbed your hands in one of his as the other tilted your head up. He looked angelic with his face flushed, hair surrounding him like a halo, the bright lights solidifying his cherubic status. Even his chocolate curls reminded you of the Renaissance paintings of small angels carrying harps.

“As much as I love this, I’d like to see a lot less clothes on you.” He jested, sliding his warm hands beneath your thighs to push it upward. There was a slight malfunction as he couldn’t get it off your shoulders in one go, eventually shimmying it off and leaving you in just a thong.

He laughed in a sharp breath, leaning back with his hands perched on his waist, looking down at you. The stance was meant to be sexy, giving him and Rich a second to observe you with pert nipples and lacy panties. He looked more dominant for some obscure reason, despite the scene being fairly common, it was the essence that dripped from him like honey.

Leaning down to meet your lips, you cupped his jaw, tasting the mint toothpaste on his tongue mixed with chapstick. Snaking your palm behind his neck, one of his knees planted itself on the mattress, keeping him sturdy as he pulled you closer to the edge.

Attempting to slide down to the floor, he catches you by the armpits, lowering you easily and fixing your hair. The action is sweet, making your cheeks flush, but you continue your mission of undoing his pants. His thighs were nice, you remembered that from last time, but something about him in refined garments made you more lustful.

The boxers beneath were easier to discard, allowing him to step out of both after you shoved them downward. His dick was pretty, something that definitely couldn’t be said for everyone, and you went eagerly for his tip. The bead of precum fell to your tongue as you dragged against his slit, an assuring hiss from above.

Rich moved closer with a handheld camera, putting it at the level of Eddie’s shoulder. Fluttering your eyelashes, you peered up as you went down to his base. The hairs tickled your nose, but you moaned salaciously and popped off.

“You’re nothing, but trouble, you know that?” Eddie croaked, urging your mouth open with his grasp on your cheek. With your tongue out, he slapped his hardened length against it and slid to the engulfing entrance of your throat.

When Rich moved back to his previous position, you rested your hands on his thigh comfortably, keeping your motions steady with the help of his guidance. But his free hand came to one of yours, interlocking them and letting them stay at his waistline.

He noticed the soft lines by your eyes when he did this, flicking his brows upwards quickly with a strangled moan. You swirled your tongue around him like you need to remember every detail, doting over each vein or patch of skin, creating your masterpiece of eroticism.

Despite his growing experience, Eddie found himself becoming overwhelmed as you maneuvered your way around his manhood, thumb stroking the back of your hand. He yanked your hair to give him access to your lips, crouching to kiss them hastily while tugging you up. His eagerness was soothed briefly by your touch, holding his shoulders while your body pressed against him, feeling the thin fabric between your legs.

With little contemplation, he went to his own knees, nipping your navel and then the petite bow at your waistline. You watched in awe as he held eye contact, dragging your panties down with his teeth until they reached your knees. Motioning towards the bed with a nod, he began removing your shoes as you sat growing wetter and wetter.

The subtly throb in your foot felt relief as he slid them off, humming as he planted a soft kiss to your instep and ankle. He ran his nose up your soft leg, looking up to your amused look with a laugh, biting your thigh.

“I feel like you’re trying to eat me, baby.” You crooned, his face blocked by his wild hair, but you felt his face skim past your cunt. With a sharp breath, you laid on your bare back against the cool comforter, letting your legs spread.

“I’m getting there, doll.” He huffed playfully, licking up your folds to taste your desire. Moans fall from your lips as his vibrates against your core, fluttering at his tender touch. The silk skin glides seamlessly against his eager tongue with little resistance, only breaking his stride to suck on your clit.

The exaggerated slurping noises could’ve made you laugh, but you threw your head back with a moan, running a hand over your breast. With certain people, it was tricky to remember you were in a scene, but then there’s moments where it’s so stereotypical that it takes you by surprise.

Not to say that Eddie wasn’t exquisite at his job, it was pleasurable, but his job was ultimately to perform. You both were paid to give people an intimate show that typically ended in an orgasm if you’re lucky.

Making direct eye contact with the camera, you bit your lip and groaned before letting your mouth fall open. Running your hands through your own hair, you let them hang up by your ears as Eddie made his way upward.

His lower face was doused in your wetness, leaving a subtle trail of it as he kissed up to your chest, latching to a nipple. Lifting his head, you left pecks from his forehead to his nose and to his cheeks, wrapping your legs around his waist. The new angle gave you a chance to flip over, still attacking his face as he blushed.

“I want your cock inside me.” You stated, rising to hover over his blooming erection as he watched. Truthfully, he wasn’t used to having someone else in control, his scenes usually had him making the rules and calling the shots. While there was no power dynamic for this one, it was interesting to see you start on top.

“I think I can manage that.” He replied with a chuckle, holding your hips still as you began to descend, slipping the tip inside. The pair of you cried out, a mix of sincere and elaborate with the way he pierced through and you squeezed.

Being on top was always riveting as gravity assisted, for better or for worse. Needing extra leverage, you placed your hands on his thigh to begin bouncing, leaning back to give a camera a full shot. Eddie went to his elbows, rolling his eyes at the way your chest moved hypnotically and your slick decorated him.

“You’re so big, it never gets easier.” You cried, satisfaction evident in your proclamation, and feeling firm hands grab your waist.

“Wouldn’t be so hard if you weren’t so fuckin’ tight.” He hissed, repositioning your chests flushed to one another as his feet planted on the bed.

The thrusts up inside you started gentle as it built momentum, taking note of when your tone became softer and not as rigid. As your body relaxed, he quickened his pace as your hands clutched the sheets.

A cameraman did a close up of where you connected, the sultry noises of skin picking up from the boom microphone. Eddie slowed it down to give the man a better shot before regaining his tempo.

As you began to clench around him, Eddie flipped your bodies so he could hover above you, caging you in his warm body. He entered you with more intention this time, sling and languid with not just the orgasm in mind, but bordering on the love making requested of them.

“I love you.” You gasped, kissing his lips abruptly, threading your fingers through his curls and pushing it back, making both of your faces easier to see.

“Fuck, I love you too, baby.” He groaned, “You gonna come all over me?”

“Please, come inside of me.” You shrieked, feeling the climax approaching in a hot wave until it consumed you. As your body struck with pleasure, you felt Eddie’s release coat your inner walls, bringing you back to reality.

Eyes fluttering open to see his big brown ones with a dopey smile, you giggled for the 100th time and cupped his crinkled cheeks. Regardless of his softening length inside you, his mouth was avid and met you with affection.

“Let’s get a shot of it dripping from her!” Rich called, snapping you both from the embrace and Eddie rolling beside you. The device went close to your pussy as his come flooded out into your lips, taking a finger to spread it and taste it.

“That’s a wrap! Great work!” Bill called, the prolific noise resuming in the room as assistance ran up with your robes. The cotton was comforting as it covered your body, tying the knot to keep it closed in front of you as the man beside you mimicked your actions.

Going your separate ways with a brief goodbye and closing the doors to your dressing rooms, you could hear the muffled voice of James Hetfield from down the hall. You laughed to yourself, grabbing your clothes to go into the showers and thinking about the way he wiped chocolate from the corner of your lip.

—--

This was a first for Eddie.

Typically after a day of shooting, he was ready to eat boxed mac and cheese and drink beer. But he was standing in the beaded back room of Family Video, glad that Robin was not in for another hour. Skimming the names on the torn paper VHS covers, his calloused index finger hit the letter E.

Grabbing the tape, he rushed to the clerk and to his van, not uttering a word to anyone. Shoving it in his bag, he sped out of the parking lot with a black trail from his tires. Hands fiddling with the hairs in his brows, suppressing the urge to tug at them as each light turned red or a pedestrian crossed the street.

Consolation filled his chest as he realized both Robin and Steve were gone, their cars missing from the busy lot. Skipping over a few steps on his way up the stairs, he fumbled with his keys as they rang through the cold, outdoor walkway. The click of the lock sent him flying in, racing to his bedroom and locking that door for an extra safe measure.

The old television was wooden with a coat hanger sticking from the antenna, providing dodge news channels, Saturday morning cartoons, and the occasional sitcom. The VHS player beneath it was covered in dust as most movie nights were in their living room, almost never finishing before they got distracted and did something else.

As the tape slipped in the player, he sat on the floor and took a deep breath. Clicking the play button created an unpleasant static before you appeared, sitting on a bed with a lilac dress on, flustered as the man behind the camera complimented you.

Even before his career, Eddie didn’t get the opportunity to watch porn a lot, resorting to crinkly magazines or if a friend had premium cable that got X-Rated channels. When he did join, he didn’t find it enjoyable after knowing all the mechanics, most of the stars, and how some didn’t like each other outside the thin walls.

“I’m Eos, I guess.” You announced meekly, tucking hair behind your ear, your foot shaking against your other ankle. The shoes were wedges, not nearly as tall as the ones from earlier, but enough to emphasize your legs.

Eddie had a vast mind that ran almost constantly, going from one obscure thought to another with little guidelines. As he watched the blurry screen, he focused more on the abstract elements that most who rented this film didn’t, especially since they had their cock in hand and he twisted his bracelet. Realizing how the background looked recognizable, like the Castle Hotel on the other side of town, one he recorded once in and hated it. It smelled like gasoline and had little noise cancellation.

The small indents of where your shoe hugged your ankle appeared as you slipped them off, very similar to the same ones he felt earlier. Somehow this felt more perverted, the fact he wasn’t just jacking off to it, but truly watching it.

Losing patience, he grabbed the remote beneath a pile of clean clothes on his dresser with some tumbling to the floor with his sharp movements. Clicking the white arrows, it sped through the introductions and getting acquainted with being in front of a camera, stopping when your clothes were discarded.

A shaky breath ran through his lungs when you pressed a vibrator to your clit, achieving a timid gasp at the incentive as you began to glisten under the bright lights. The stirring in his stomach was a mix of arousal and nausea, feeling his face scorched, but his pants constrict.

With a few more taps to the remote, you had a dildo between your legs as a haughty song blared through the weak speakers, jolting Eddie to sit straighter. Your mewls were barely audible and the angles were atrocious, scanning down your body as you whined and traveling up as your cunt made amatory noises.

Rewinding to the beginning and ejecting it, he sat with it in his hands, slightly disgusted with himself and his evincing erection. Shoving it back in his bag, he marched to the bathroom and shut the door aggressively unintentionally.

Tugging at his knotted hair, he dragged his clammy paws down his warm cheeks and looked at his own brown eyes in the mirror. The bags under them were more prominent as he was deprived of sleep, too many thoughts infiltrating his waking moments till his body finally gave out.

Turning on the faucet, he splashed tepid water in his face, droplets decorating him like ornaments on a tree. His lashes clumped to a darker brown as he cooled down, blindly reaching for his hair tie in the side drawer to put it in a low bun.

His hands clenched the beige granite countertops littered with products and guitar picks, subconsciously noticing the way he could make out a dog in the splotches of black igneous rock. Stretching backwards till his rear hit the white wall, he rolled himself against it until he saw his own reflection once more, continuously asking himself the same question.

Why the fuck did you rent that tape?

authors note: hi there! thank you for reading and for your patience! i can't begin to say how much reading the comments on my first part means to me, i love writing and i'm glad i can do it for people with a similar interest as me. a special thanks to my loves autumn ( @lilacletter ) and august ( @indouloureux ) for being my favorite people and helping me with this piece. mwah.

taglist: @imjuststeddietrashatthispoint @edsforehead @wiltedwonderland @idathereader @red-2-0@cutiecusp @haileyhellfire @bimbobobaggins69 @harrys-tittie @sillypurplemurple @thikkiesixx @metalsunflowers @creepytoes88 @girl-frm-mars @eddiesbabe95 @qnsfwthoughts @p4st3lst4rs @whoahoney @Innlove @whore-for-eddie @kiyastrf94 @mirrorsstuff @micheledawn1975 @whoreforhowl @killyspinacoladas @nevermore66 @aysheashea

@sweetsouthernbitchery @sidthedollface2 @trixyvixx @munsonsuccubus @gaysludge @abirdinthehouse @christalcake @lokiofasssguard616 @loving-and-dreaming @igotloki @munsonology

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unexpectedbrickattack · 1 year

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bro your pepperman and peppino comic hasn’t left my brain since i saw it. i just love the dynamic of a ginormous freak and peppino being both intimidated and flustered.. bro i wish there was more of those two

I should draw them some more bc i really like the dynamic ive written for them 😊 For u anon, i will share some minor (silly) thoughts ive had about them

-Pepperman absolutely has a little baby crush on this man. TEENY TINY. The kind of crush that means nothing- hes a little 💅🏾 and hes an artist like ur gonna be a little gay w all of the friends you make; thats just the way it goes 😭 Like Peppino is sooooo handsome and soooo strong and he can cook and hes smart and he doesnt stand down when confronted (he LOVES this the most). So people in Peppermans Rich Friend circle notice the complete 180 his personality does when Peppino is invited to outings. Its not that Pepperman is being weird and shallow or fake, its that Peppino is probably his First Friend that wasnt rich and snobbish in anyway. Some part of him really REALLY wants to impress Peppino and it makes him act a little ‘foolish’ heehee 😊

-Following up on this, Pepperman visits the pizzeria out of the blue like MONTHS after he first invites Peppino out for the art sessions and like okay maybe they are friends MAYBE…but like he is still kind of anxious bc the last time he came here he almost got his skinned so part of him is like ‘maybe hes only amicable bc feels obligated to cooperate within the walls of my studio…’ BUT he shuffles awkwardly into the shop and Peppino not only waves but SMILES at him while hes attending to a customer and Pepperman is like ‘HEEEHEEUHEEHOOO………….’

-Peppermans art is worth a fortune; he is very well respected in the art world and any pieces hes made (including self portraits) are absolutely stunning. His abstract art is as beautiful as his realism; auctioning them off and doing occasional commission work is how hes acquired most of his wealth. Because of this, it is a MASSIVE show of good faith and comradery that Pepperman will often gift art to Peppino. Unfortunately, Peppino will not accept statues or huge marble sculptures BUT Pepperman is delighted to see Peppino accept paintings and mini sculptures, even if he LOOKS a bit confused about it 😭

-SO… when Pepperman comes by the shop some weeks later, he is overwhelmingly excited to see one of his pieces hung up on the walls. The feeling of having his art fawned over in an art exhibit does not even BEGIN to compare to the excitement of seeing his art being displayed in this common mans shop. Its a portrait of Peppino, stylized, w some funky lookin colors. Nothing fancy or particularly evocative. Just. Peppino! Looking a bit wistful with colors winding around him.

Even Peppino is like (snrk) “Dont you have your fancy arts in a museum or something? Dont see the big deal ‘bout ‘a this.” But its HUGE its like…suddenly it is not just his muse entertaining his artistic vision…his muse VALUES his artistic vision………..it makes him SO happy. He thinks about it for days. Its like; he had no idea that this is what it felt like to have…inspiration and motivation from an Outside source. His art, while breathtaking, felt like it lacked something…Rich. Years and years of self reflection and introspection and Never expanding his horizons, never realizing he was Capable of expanding his horizons until now…he is just a lucky little pepper 🫑🌶✨

#answered #chattin #long post #peppino #pepperman #this is also why i refuse to make human designs for him and vigi bc otherwise i will Not be normal 😭😭😭#also i did not add this but i think it helps to know that pepperman is-#-younger than peppino. hes like. it is funny to try and age a fucking pepper #but comparitively he is like early to mid 30s #so hes technically a rich brat in peppinos eyes; just like the noise #but pepperman is more eccentric than bratty….#he IS a dick and hes brash and a bully and he dangles money over peoples heads #at least #he USED to #but peppino was a man with a failing business and his house on the line #and saddled w debt #and when given the opportunity to become RICH beyond his comprehension #he said ‘no. i want this shop. i worked for this shop and i fought for this shop. im not going to give it up after all that’#and he just. kept working! he comes to work early in the morning and he leaves right as the sun is setting #and he works on his expenses and utilities in his small little office in the back of his shop. hes just. some guy. who owns a pizza shop #and something about that like FLIPPED a switch in peppermans brain #and now hes a little obsessed…#well he was a little obsessed after he got his ass handed to him on a platter but now its a bit less Crazed and alot more Fond #hes fawning a little bit and he has no idea its happening #peppino knows tho heehee #but its sweet its not serious its just admiration and peppino can deal w that 😊

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chaosjedimasterk · 1 year

Text

What’s cooking good lookin?

The bad batch get a good meal from reader.

Summary: after the somewhat failed mission of finding the heart of the mountain your favorite batch member drops by your apartment for a comfort meal. Here’s how it goes and what you cook! In reality I just really wanted to make sure someone feeds these men some real food.

Reader is gender neutral

Warnings: SFW- None - I just really wanted to be able to give these men an actual meal for once so this is how I’m doing it. I didn’t include crosshair in this one because he’s harder to grasp for me. And I’m super new to writing, plus he isn’t in that episode. Let me know if you have any thoughts!

Also a personal head cannon that hunter is the only one in the batch that has any cooking skills whatsoever

Pairing(s): Hunter x reader, Wrecker x reader, Tech x Reader, Echo x Reader

It had been several rotations since you had last seen the batch. Last you had heard they had gone off to find some mystery treasure…a heart of a mountain. Regardless, Hunter had finally commed you to let you know that they should be back planet-side by 1700. Knowing the boys and Omega lived mostly on ration bars during missions you started prepping.

Your apartment above Cid’s was small but not cramped and the best part was it had a decent kitchen. You had always loved cooking. It was part of who you were, from a young age your grandmother taught you all of her secrets. You spent ample time learning to play with flavors and textures. So it was here in your kitchen humming and chopping away when your door unlocks….

Hunter:

~ when you first met Hunter he was skeptical that someone could out cook him. He prided himself on the quick but nutrient dense and tasty meals he could make for himself and the boys. That was until he finally caved and tried your secret creamy manoomin soup. It was rich but it also tasted like comfort. As though you had wrapped him in a hug. Honestly the recipe was like 5 ingredients and only took you 20 minutes to make. But he swore on it. So when you were expecting him back you made sure you had everything handy.

~ However, since it was an easy dish you figured you’d also bake a cake. You had time to kill anyways. But while you were baking time slipped past you and you heard your door open. “Hey darlin, you hom—?” He paused as he looked at you and you were a mess. You were a messy baker so there was flour and other ingredients everywhere. His hand flew to his mouth so you didn’t see him snicker at you

- “ Shoot is it already 1730?!” You exclaimed surprised to see him standing there and quickly brushing the flour off your hands. He chuckles as he gently sets down his helmet and walks over to you and wipes away flour that had gotten on you cheek. “You are the most beautiful sight to behold right now. All this? For me? You know you don’t have to.” He says softly against your forehead as he plants a forehead kiss. “I know” you sigh a bit dejectedly “I hate to ask but would you mind helping me? I’m sure you’re starving”. You look up at him and he smiles and nods.

~ you two wordlessly move about the kitchen as a team getting things together. Typically you loathe people in your kitchen but Hunter knows his way around and is helpful. You two prepare dinner together and eat on the sofa while soft music plays in the background. He tells you about the mission and how curious and smart Omega has been lately. You’re both chatting long into the night when finally you doze off.

~ Hunter gently picks you up and lays you in your bed, where he goes and cleans up the dishes and puts away the leftovers before joining you in a deep and comfortable slumber.

Wrecker:

~ after Hunter commed you with their ETA you rush to the market. If Wrecker stops by you know you’ll need to stock up on some things. Wrecker LOVES your food. Cannot seem to get enough of it. Based on Wreckers size he eats a lot but you don’t mind because every other bite is filled with “babe have I told you how good this is?” And you’ll always giggle because of course he has

~ Wrecker also loves to eat like it’s a challenge, if it’s spicy he can’t seem to eat enough of it. You’re aiming for hearty and hot with this meal. You decide on a spicy bantha curry. You love the market and all of its smells and stalls and you could spend hours browsing but you quickly stop where you need and head straight back home.

~ Your nearly done cooking as you’ve just gotten the rice into the cooker when you hear the click of your lock open. “Hey sweetheart! Woah!! It smells fantastic in here” wrecker takes a deep breath in and before bother to remove any of his gear strides over to you and wraps you in a huge hug. “Wrecker dear, I need to breathe!” You laugh into his chest plate, he’s the best hugger. “Right!” He chuckles as he sets you back down.

~ Wrecker goes and sits lazily on your sofa to remove his gear and you ask how the mission went. He talks about the explosions and the puzzles omega solved “Damn thing was HUGE!!!” He exclaims as you pull everything from the oven. You grab dishes from the cabinet and he gets up “let me get it for you!” As he wraps his arms around your waist and kisses your neck. And he dishes you both up. You continue to chat about the mission as he animatedly tells you all about it

~ there are of course no leftovers and now you two snuggle in on the couch for some lighthearted competition in some holonet games. The dishes can wait until tomorrow.

Tech:

~ Tech was the toughest member to cook for. You remember being mildly frustrated after all of the meals you’ve had him try and none had earned anything more than a “this is quite satisfactory”. Then one day he arrived unannounced to show you a new update he added to your data pad. You were making homemade pasta with a butter sauce. And offered him some. Surprisingly he loved it? The way he talked about it made it seem as though it was a technical and flavorful masterpiece you had to smile because this was the highest praise you’ve ever received.

~ Tech, as you learned over time had quite the sweet tooth but wouldn’t tell others. So you always made sure dessert was around where he could find it. As you were getting the water boiling for the pasta you had made earlier that day the door opened. “Ah you are home!” He said matter of factly. “How was the mission?” You asked as he strode over to your side. “Well we are alive so I suppose it could be counted as a success” he mumbled into your hair as he planted a kiss atop your head. He glanced around the kitchen looking for the context clues of what you were cooking. “It’s your special” you said with a teasing wink. “Plus check the fridge i made you dessert as well”.

~ Tech turned to open the fridge and took out a ramekin “what exactly is it?” He asked setting it on the counter. “It’s crème brûlée - it’ll hit the spot between sweet and simple for you”. You said as you finished up the pasta. Tech reached over you and grabbed bowls down from the cupboard “well I am highly looking forward to it!” He almost exclaimed. He had started to grow more adventurous with food since seeing you. You ate and he explained in great detail the technicalities of the beast they found. Keeping his hand a top your hand for the entirety of dinner. and you listen in rapt attention to everyone of of his words. “ fascinating.” You said with wonder in your voice.

~ you two ate dessert and after you had both done the dishes you had snuggled up to Tech’s chest to read the latest novel that had you hooked. Tech, reading his own data pad gently combed his fingers through your hair. Then softly “thank you for cooking for me. It is highly appreciated that you’ve gone out of your way to find foods that I will enjoy”. You smiled and looked up at him “of course” you replied after a gentle kiss to the tip of his nose.

Echo:

~ you’re cooking something simple, you know Echo is a picky eater and while he trusts your cooking he is still hesitant to try new foods. You go with the trusty chicken noodle soup. A favorite for when it’s cold, or you simply need a good comfort tastes like home feel.

~ Echo opens your door and takes one long breath in. “Smells fantastic in here, what are you making?” He asks. You smirk over your stove knowing how high of a compliment that is coming from Echo. “It’s not much, but I figured you’d want something heartier than ration bars after that mission” you respond setting your spoon down on the counter.

~ Echo proceeds to remove his gear and sit down at your small table and begins telling you all about the mission. Wordlessly, you ladle the soup into a bowl and set it in front of him. And without hesitation he continues his story while eating. You’ve never not seen him pick through your food before to see if there’s anything he won’t like. You smirk, “what? Something on my face?” He says staring at you with a confused look.

~ “it’s nothing” you smile sweetly before kissing his temple and dishing your own bowl. You both finish eating and Echo helps you dry the dishes before you both snuggle in for a well deserved rest.

#star wars #tbb s2 #the bad batch #tbb x reader #tbb fic #hunter x reader #wrecker x reader #tech x reader #echo x reader #someone please feed these men more than ration bars

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allzelemonz · 11 months

Text

He’s Warm: Kieran Duffy X Male Reader

Pronouns: he/him, Reader referred to as ‘man’ and ‘boy’ Physical Sex: None Mentioned Rating: T/Language Warnings: Reader is friends with Micah, friendly banter and teasing, the gang is a family, people mistrust Kieran, cuddling, huddling for warmth, background relationships: Arthur/Charles, John/Abigail, mild Sean/Lenny Summary: Going back up North to hide makes the gang share a one room cabin with limited space. As a trusted member of the gang, you’re made to watch over the less trusted members.

Going back up North was Hosea’s idea, insisting that the trek back West needed to happen and the gang needed to give it a few weeks for the Pinkertons to lose the scent. Just a few weeks, no robbing, just surviving. For once, Dutch listened. The gang packed things up, getting the hell away from the two rich families whose gold seems like a lost cause. But as you look over the small shack it doesn’t seem all that great of an idea. No one thinks going back to Colter is a good idea, never reuse a camp if you can help it. So the one room shack will have to do.

You help Arthur and Sean, throwing out the unneeded furniture to make sure everyone has a space on the floor. Kieran and Bill are trying to make some sort of covering for the horses. Charles and Javier have already gone out hunting as Pearson finds the best way to cook with the fireplace. John is chopping wood, Miss Grimsahw is fussing over where to put everyone’s bedrolls. Everyone is doing what they can.

“Excuse me, gentlemen.” Miss Grimshaw comes up just as you and Arthur throw the table from the shack onto the snowy ground.

“Yes, Miss Grimshaw?” Arthur asks. “Somethin’ ya need?”

“I have been trying ta find agreeable sleeping situations.” She sighs. “But, as I’m sure you two are very well aware, not everyone is so inclined ta be near one another.”

“Oh, tha’s a nice way ta put it.” Sean chuckles as he walks by with a chair.

Miss Grimshaw huffs. “I have little Jack and a few us older folks by the fire, the girls are all together, and I put the younger ones by the door.”

Sean looks over at her. “When ya say younger-”

“Yourself and Mister Summers.”

“We’ll freeze!” Sean cries. “Just ‘cause we’re young don’t mean we should be set to early, icy graves.”

“Oh, hush, Mister MacGuire.” She snaps, turning back to you and Arthur. “I need you two of you to keep an eye on the degenerates.”

“Who are the degenerates?” You ask, already half knowing the answer.

“I don’t trust Mister Bell so close to everybody.” She holds her teeth so they don’t clatter. “And that O’Driscoll.”

Arthur sighs. “I’ll keep an eye on Micah, Miss Grimshaw.”

“I’ll watch Kieran, not that he needs watching.” You huff, turning back to the cabin,

“Thank you, boys.” Miss Grimshaw calls after you.

Later in the day you find your things near the front wall, surrounded by Kieran, Arthur, and Micah. It’s like being the good student in the school house and having to sit next to the troublemaker to calm them down. Not that that sort of thing ever works. Micah is sitting on his bedroll, not many other places to go, sharpening his knife, Arthur is talking to John who is fussing over Jack being warm and Kieran is still out with the horses.

“Stuck with the worst ‘a us, ain’t ya?” Micah asks as you sit down on your bedroll.

“You’re not that bad when you shut up, Micah.”

He chuckles and gestures to the closeness of your and what must be a new bedroll for Kieran. “I ain’t gonna have ta worry about all that, am I?”

“Am I gonna have to worry about you cuddling with Arthur?”

Micah snorts and you smile as he shakes his head. “Good one, cowpoke.”

“You never know. You might get cold.”

He glares at you from under his hat. “Nothing would ever make me cold enough fer that.” Then his expression lightens a bit. “But you… you been lookin’ fer an excuse.”

“Shut up, Micah.” You say, playfully kicking his leg.

He chuckles. “Careful, wouldn’t wanna ruin yer reputation.”

“I’d be doing that anyway.” You nod to Kieran’s bedroll. “I don’t know which Miss Grimshaw would hate more.”

“Yer only jokin’ with me and I ain’t no O’Driscoll.” Micah grins to himself. “It’s Dutch ya need ta worry about.”

“You always say that.”

“If ya get all sweet on that O’Driscoll boy, people ‘round here are gonna start questionin’ yer loyalty.” He clears his throat. “Just how things are.”

“We can be delinquents together then.”

“Ol’ Grimshaw’d never let us near each other again.” Micah raises his arms to mime. “She’d think we was schemin’ some grand plan.”

You smile, laughing lightly. “It’ll be fine. I’m not getting into anything right now, not with everything that’s going on.”

“Wise words, cowpoke.” He taps his hat’s brim with his knife. “Great minds think alike.”

“Sure, that’s why you’re not with anyone.”

He chuckles. “I am exactly where I wanna be, cowpoke. No better place.”

“How flattering.”

Arthur stops near his bedroll, kicking off his boots. “He botherin’ you?”

“Jealous, Morgan?” Micah drawls, peering from under his hat.

“Just talking, Arthur.”

Arthur looks between you before he sits down and rummages through his satchel. He’s always been clueless. The only one that has ever picked up on your attraction to Kieran is Micah and no one has picked up on your friendship with the most questionable of the gang. Arthur has no chance of interpreting what’s going on around him tonight.

Miss Grimshaw points Kieran in the right direction when he comes inside. He looks nervous as his eyes wander over the crowd of the gang. You always seemed nice, but sleeping so close to Micah makes him nervous. Arthur tortures him all the time and just past him are Sean and Bill who actively terrorize him. Nevertheless, he thanks Miss Grimshaw for giving him a bed and steps carefully around those laying in his path.

“O’Driscoll!” Micah greets, half mockingly. “Welcome ta the bad boys’ corner.”

Kieran avoids his eyes as he sits, just trying not to catch too much of Micah’s attention because he knows how he is.

“Shut up, Micah.” You mutter. “Just let the kid sleep.”

“All of ya shut it.” Arthur mumbles, already drifting into a chilly slumber.

“So sorry, Morgan.” Micah mocks.

Arthur groans and buries his face into his makeshift pillow.

“Don’t mind the idiot, Kieran.”

Kieran looks over to you, a bit of relief that you’re the one next to him. “I got no problem doin’ that.”

You laugh lightly, looking at Micah for the inevitable annoyance.

“Lucky yer outta arm’s reach, boy.” Micah says, sighing as he relaxes against the wall. “I wouldn’t sleep too deep if I was you.”

“I’ll protect you from the big, bad wolf, Kieran.” You mutter, glaring at Micah with a hint of a smile. “He’s not as tough as he looks.”

Kieran blushes a bit, hiding his face as you and Micah exchange somewhat friendly banter. Arthur groans again, standing and dragging his bedroll down by Charles. Not that you needed his help ‘watching’ the ‘degenerates’ anyway. He probably wanted to sleep next to Charles to begin with.

“You actually gonna sleep tonight?”

Micah looks at you and shrugs. “Ain’t plannin’ on it.”

“Can you behave then? So Grimshaw doesn’t get onto me for not watching you.”

“I’ll try my best, cowpoke.”

The grin Micah gives you lets you know he’s joking around. He’ll just sit there and mess with his guns like he always does, maybe read that newspaper clipping he keeps about his old bounty. You know he’s not gonna do anything that’ll make Grimshaw mad at you, he wants people mad at him. You lie back, getting as comfortable as you can in the extra layers of clothes and on the hard wooden floor. Not many are still awake, so it’s the sound of the fire and the occasional click of Micah messing with his guns that you drift off to sleep with.

You wake to a jolt in your leg and with it you look down you see Micah nudging you. The sun is starting to peek through the windows and you can hear the light shuffles of people working up the energy to get out of bed.

“Ya best move if ya don’t want anybody ta see.” Micah whispers.

Then you realize what position you’re in. Kieran is cuddled up to your chest and your arm is tightly fixed around his middle. He looks peaceful, comfortable, and most of all, he’s warm. It’s like he’s a human fire, heat radiates off of him in comforting waves that fight off the cold. You don’t want to move, you want to pull him closer and kiss his head and make him feel as safe and warm as he’s making you feel. But Micah is right, people would whisper and ask questions, and you’re right too, you can’t get into this right now with everything how it is. So you slowly pull away and sit up against the wall next to Micah, just a foot away from the peacefully sleeping stable boy.

“Thanks.” You mutter.

Micah nods. “You’d do the same.”

Not that Micah will ever be in a situation anything like that, but yes, you would. You look over the sea of sleeping or half-sleeping figures. Most have kept to themselves but the Marstons are all huddled together, the girls have a bit of a tangle, Sean and Lenny are huddled back to back. And then there’s Arthur and Charles, clinging about as much as you and Kieran were.

You nudge Micah and nod to them. “Think we should help them?”

Micah chuckles and shakes his head. “I ain’t liftin’ any more fingers.”

You pick up an empty can from the pile of your things and toss it at Arthur. He stirs against Charles’s arm and it looks like he wakes up. You at least want to give him the choice of whether he’s okay with people seeing him like that or not. He looks around for a minute, then Charles tugs at his arm and pulls him back into sleep.

“Told ya.” Micah mutters.

“No, you said you weren’t gonna help.”

“One good deed is enough fer the week.”

You kick lightly at his leg and he moves it away. He’s slowly becoming an annoying sibling at this rate. The gang wakes up and shuffles around to make coffee and talk things over. Kieran stirs once most of the gang is awake. He rolls onto his back and blinks up at the ceiling for a while before he sits up. He gets coffee and comes back to sit and drink it while the gang gets their jobs going. Most people leave the cabin, only a few remain in the opposite corner when Micah sits forward.

“Hey, O’Driscoll.” He whispers.

You watch him, holding a map in your hand, distracted from your task now.

“Mister…” Kieran mutters, glancing at him nervously.

Micah looks at you with a wicked grin and before you can stop him he says it in a low voice. “He’s sweet on ya.”

“Micah!” You whisper loudly, kicking him hard this time. “I told you-”

“Ya got all snuggly right after ya fell asleep.” Micah grins, pushing you back. “I ain’t never seen such love birds.”

Kieran’s face goes red as you give Micah another kick, making him stand and retreat.

“Sorry, cowpoke.” He shrugs, picking up his hat. “Got bored.”

With only a few people left in the cabin, Micah has an easy escape route and your little fight didn’t garner much attention. Kieran stares at his coffee cup, his mind swimming with a hundred things. You look at him, eyes darting over his body to try and tell how he feels.

“Micah’s an idiot.” You say, sitting up straight and trying to get a look at Kieran’s face.

He glances at you and you can see his pink cheeks, darkened by a mix of cold and embarrassment. “So he was just jokin’?”

There’s something in his voice that makes you think you should be honest. “Not joking, just being stupid.”

“So…” Kieran’s eyes look around rapidly. “So he waddn’t lyin’?”

You glance over at the cluster of people in the other corner, they pay you no attention, so you move back to sit next to Kieran.

“He was telling the truth.” You whisper, nodding. “I don’t wanna embarrass you, Kieran.”

“No, no!” He shakes his head. “Ya ain’t- I mean, I ain’t- But-”

You catch his gesturing hand and pull it down to hold it. Kieran goes quiet as a smile works over his face and he stares down at your hands.

“He was just messing with me.” You mumble.

Kieran squeezes your hand. “I don’t mind… now, I don’t mind.”

Then the door bursts open and you both pull your hands back as Javier steps inside and looks over at you. “Dutch needs you.”

You sigh, giving Kieran a small smile as you stand and make your way over to Javier. “Did Micah go anywhere?”

“I don’t think so.” Javier shakes his head. “Saw him over by the wagons a minute ago.”

“I’ll find Dutch in a bit. Something I gotta do first.”

Javier stops you before you open the door again. “Are you gonna hurt Micah? Can I help?”

A twisted smile covers his face and you nod. You give Kieran one more smile that he returns before you leave the cabin. He sits on his bedroll for a little longer, his eyes looking over your space next to him until he has to go check on the horses.

#red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #red dead redemption x reader #red dead redemption x male reader #x reader #x male reader #kieran duffy #kieran duffy x reader #kieran duffy x male reader

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cheemscakecat · 19 days

Text

Missing in Action 9

Chapter 9: Boiling Point

Spy plays a prank he should not have, Scout has a realization, and something goes wrong.

TW: Heavy Angst. We’re at the turning point people

Overall, the last two weeks were a breath of fresh air for Jeremy. New Spy was very aware of his comedy potential, and every time he went into battle he outdid himself.

Something changed on that first Monday after those weeks.

There was this one BLU Scout from the Appalachians, in some hillbilly town or whatever. He had a reputation for talking about the woods like it was a rich person’s house. Talkin about some kind of monsters who ran the forest, who he was Buddy-Buddy with.

So in other words, he was a superstitious nut job that even Demoman didn’t take seriously. He always made a big fuss about how his team acted in the forest -any forest- like they were gonna offend “the owners”.

Jeremy disliked the guy because he also talked smack about “city boys”, and being from Boston he was the main target of that smack-talk. And people called him annoying…

They happened to be stationed in some forest in Colorado when New Spy got to fight this BLU Scout and his team. So that meant BLU Scout was being extra annoying to his team, and Spy noticed fast.

He turned invisible and started following the App Scout around the battlefield, saying spooky stuff like he was a forest ghost getting mad about the teams. And at first, it was really funny listening to BLU Scout try and get along with the ghost. Until it wasn’t.

His team turned off their comm links because they were annoyed with his warnings. And Appie started to panic. Spy stopped saying stuff, but that didn’t help much because BLU thought his team was about to get punished for being in the woods. Jeremy had been following them in case something went wrong, but he’d been expecting an angry breakdown, not fear and crying.

They knew Merasmus was real, but Jeremy had never thought something really lived up in the Appalacians. Now that he had to see the man horrified, it seemed a heck of a lot more believable. For all he knew, there was some kind of forest guardian out there, it wasn’t like he’d been to the Apps!

“Please don kill my team. I know we’re mercenaries, but we ain’t the ones who chose the battlefield. An they ain’t from the forest, nobody ever taught em to respect the ones in charge here. Please don make em disappear, they don know what they’ve done to yer home!”

Spy turned visible to the crying BLU Scout and dropped his weapons. BLU stared at him blankly through his tears. “I am sorry. I did not think this was so serious.” Thankfully, Spy also knew the joke had crossed a line and he wasn’t afraid to try and apologize. But Appie was furious.

Spy got slugged in the jaw and Jeremy had to knock out the BLU enemy to protect him. Scout learned a long time ago that this guy’s underfed lookin body was way stronger than it looked. And he had that anger adrenaline. He grabbed Spy by the arm and ran off before BLU Scout could wake up.

————————

Them boys messed with the Appalachian Scout and his paranoid beliefs. Engineer knew he and the grown teammates should’a warned Spy not to do it, but they were all used to his older self. The one who wouldn’t try the forest spirit prank. But in any case, Spy looked haunted by what he did, and Scout brought him to learn more about the weird mountain beliefs.

Engineer was from Texas, which was a melting pot within a melting pot, dependin on where you lived. He’d met people from that area. He knew enough to talk to the boys.

“Well, not everyone believes in it, but that forest has a strange feelin to it. Eerie, like your bein watched by something that ain’t human. Some of the locals insist that if you’re polite, the supernatural won’t bother you none. Unless it starts whistling at you.”

Yeah, there was a reason why Dell wasn’t superstitious. At least not to most things people believed in. But he did have to wonder if that mountain plain would be a good place to look for Merasmus. He’d have to mention it to the others as a potential lead.

“Anyways, that there BLU Scout has been workin as a merc for years. He oughta know by now that other forests don’t work like the Apps, even if the stories are true. So try not to feel too bad about your little prank buddy. We know you won’t try it again.”

Somehow, that didn’t seem to snap Spy out of his funk. But he forced a smile and a polite thank you anyway.

————————

The only bad thing about the past two weeks was that Scout still had Spy dreams. It was like his mind was twisting itself into a pretzel to try and pretend like he should miss Spy. And these last two weeks, it had been mostly dreams about their time in Teufort prison.

Jeremy almost missed the hanging nightmares, because at least those reminded him why he was so angry at his deadbeat dad. He was never planning to tell the truth the old coward. Not even when they were on death row. And he didn’t say anything or look when Scout got dropped on the gallows.

Maybe it was dumb, but he kind of wished Spy turned to look at him on instinct, lookin all concerned. Instead of not lookin at all. Cause the only people that did look were the drooling, stupid townsfolk celebrating the hanging. Their eyes all hungry, holdin their stupid hanging merch.

Then again, there was a reason Jeremy lengthened the chain on his dog tags. And stopped wearing a shirt to bed. And kept his blanket below his nipples so it wouldn’t touch his neck. He didn’t know what he’d do when it snowed. Ok fine, maybe the dad dreams were better.

This batch of Spy dreams took place when he still had the broken arms. He hated not being able to move like normal, even something as simple as squatting was a bad idea without the whole use of his arms. There was a lot he couldn’t do on his own, and Spy ended up helping him.

To Jeremy, it felt like his dad was just cherry-picking easy things to do for him, to pretend like they were on good terms and he was a good parent. It was gross. It should be gross. And he shouldn’t miss Spy for doing the bare minimum when they were trapped together for months.

About a week before, Scout had dreamt about the first time Spy combed out his hair. He didn’t want to be babied, especially in front of another inmate they didn’t know, but Spy was insisting. Jeremy remembered their argument.

“Spy I don’t need your help, stop it!” “Nonsense, you can’t lift your arms to comb it yourself. And if you get angry enough trying, you’ll break that metal contraption on your back.” Way to have faith. “Shows what you know. I’ve had this haircut my whole life. Trust me, it never gets matted.”

Scout felt Spy hesitate for a second. “How do you know that?” Something about the way Spy asked made Scout feel the same worry as when teachers asked him too many questions about home. So he explained, against his better judgement. “Well, Ma had a lot of little sons and not enough time to comb all our hair. So she had all our hair cut like this so even if we ****ed up combing it, it wouldn't get matted.”

Spy went quiet and stopped combing for a long time, and Jeremy could tell he was staring at the wall because he didn’t feel eyes on him. “Well all the same, I’d rather do this than risk your cast getting broken. These Teufort people either know how to work a taser or fail to tie their shoes, and there’s no in between. I don’t trust them to fix your cast.”

It took Scout waking up for him to realize Spy was judging his Ma for the hair thing. As if he had any right, when he wasn’t there or giving her the money she needed! Besides, Jeremey turned out fine! Yeah he’d never had longer hair and learned to style it, and yeah new Spy’s hair looked really cool, but he was fine.

He- he didn’t want to judge his Ma for anything. She was the one who was there for him, and she had enough ungrateful children already. Even if he did wonder what he’d look like with New Spy’s hairstyle.

This dream on the night of the Appalachian Scout’s freak out was a doozy. It had been real difficult to sleep in the prison bunk with the stress of being hung soon, and the people being weird. But it was even harder for Jeremy because of the metal connector on his cast.

It wasn’t like they set him up with one of those fancy hospital beds for hurt people, it was just a normal bottom bunk. So the metal dug into his spine and the soft skin between his shoulders. He’d wake up from that digging feeling then fall right back to sleep.

But one night about two months in, he woke up and didn’t go right back to sleep. It was hard to crane his neck with the cast, especially lying down, but he saw Spy standing next to the bunk bed ladder on their shared bed. He was facing away into the whole room, with his back to Jeremy’s head. Didn’t even notice he’d woken up.

Naturally, he didn’t feel great about Spy just freaking standing there all night, and he wasn’t moving. So he piped up.

“What are you doing?” He whispered. Spy turned to face him in surprise, and then they heard a heavy thudding noise further in the room. Spy went back to facing into the room and Jeremy heard Joey Murders grumble. What was he doing up? It was the middle of the night.

“I’m an insomniac by nature, and this cheap bunk isn’t helping. So I’ve been practicing good posture.” Seriously? “Do you have to stand at the foot of my bed?” “It’s not the foot if your head is laying over here. And this bunk belongs to both of us, so I’m well within my rights.”

“So let me get this straight; you’ve been standing like a creep at the head of my bed for two months, and you just chose not to tell me?” If Scout didn’t believe that Spy had his ability to fart removed by Medic, he’d be really grossed out by the chances of getting farted on in his sleep with his mouth open. He had too much experience with his brothers pulling similar crap growing up.

“I thought it would only annoy you, and we only own this side of the room. If I were at base, I could just stay up in my smoking room and read, but here I’d bother you and our roommate. Besides, this way if you need help going to the restroom, I’m close.” It bothered Jeremy that Spy wasn’t facing him to talk. And that he didn’t have a great argument for chasing him off. It was quiet for a moment.

“I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you, Scout. It’s your bunk too.” “Well, uh. Thanks for helping me with crap. At least I’m not super old and peeing all over the place, but still.” “It’s fine. And even if you were old, I’d prefer that over Sniper marking his territory. But you should get some more sleep.”

It took Scout waking up to think about how dumb it was that Spy hadn’t been sleeping, and how obviously he was lying. After Jeremy got his casts off and had a few days to get used to his arms, Spy told him he was going to try to sleep more and stop standing around like a creep. And he did. He started sleeping a lot more.

But then he remembered that Joey Murders was awake that night. And that Spy had been staring off towards his side of the room. It made him stop and think for a moment.

Joey Murders was a civilian serial killer who probably killed some women or people who were not strong enough to win a one on one battle with him. Scout had always assumed that his strange roommate was also on his best behavior in prison but… Murders didn’t have anything to lose. Even in Teufort, the cops had to have found some reason to suspect him.

Maybe he was the kind of guy to attack him and Spy. His old man had been eating with his back turned to Joey when he up and stabbed him. At the time, Jeremy got mad at Spy and said he was getting them in more trouble. But maybe he killed Murders for good reason.

Murders kept trying to sneak up on Scout when he had his arms broken and was fast asleep. So Spy had been staying up and standing in Murders’ way to keep him safe. And he hadn’t figured that out until now.

But Spy also didn’t baby him after he could use his hands again. After he could move his legs into a better angle for kicking Joey’s face into mincemeat. He trusted him to take care of himself. Jeremy sat on his bed feeling a lot of confusing emotions about it, not knowing if he should be angry at Spy, or worried, or missing him more.

The sound of new Spy screaming snapped him out of it.

———————

Something was wrong with new Spy, and the whole team could see it when they arrived at the smoking room. Chairs were overturned and Spy was screaming in French, pacing, and pulling on his hair.

“Vhat’s wrong?” Heavy asked. Spy snapped his head towards the biggest teammate, and they could all see how pale and undead he looked. There was a wildly hateful look in his eye, which only grew as he broke a full bottle of wine on the side table. Purplish red wine spilled on the old wood and rug like blood. Spy gripped the broken bottle like a knife and charged at Heavy.

Medic reacted fast and turned on the Medigun in time to heal Heavy right as Spy stabbed him through his vest, aiming for his heart. Everyone was shocked, so shocked that Spy had time to ignore Medic as an obvious target and glare at Sniper. Thankfully, Heavy was fine and caught new Spy before he got the change to attack again.

For about half a second, they thought Heavy’d be able to hold Spy down with his big arms. But Heavy moved slow, and Spy was hopped up on hatred, adrenaline, and fury. He started kicking almost as fast as Scout could, and shuffled his arms around at full strength. Heavy tried, but it was like trying to carry an angry street cat, and Spy got loose.

Spy jammed his fingers into Demoman’s eye, then when he was still distracted lifted the right blast guard so he could punch him in the nuts. Medic was rushing to help Demoman, but Spy ignored him again; choosing to pick up an armchair and throw it at Pyro’s head. Engineer rushed to help Pyro, and again, Spy ignored a teammate for no apparent reason.

New Spy picked up the glass bottle that he dropped, dodging Heavy as he tried to catch up. Then he went after Sniper with it. Snipes did a good job escaping a backstab and any other fatal attacks, but he wasn’t fast enough to stop Spy. Jeremy noticed that Spy hadn’t targeted him either, so he crossed his fingers and charged in to try something.

He grabbed Spy from behind and lifted him like 3 inches off the ground. Then he started spinning in place to make them both as dizzy as possible. Spy still had the bottle, but didn't actually stab at him with it, so the dizzy trick worked.

Demoman and Engineer each grabbed one of Spy’s arms after Scout let go, trying not to puke. But instead of struggling to free his arms like a normal idiot, Spy twisted his torso and legs to get them off balance, and then pulled on his arms so they’d bump heads and let go.

Soldier finally got the memo to attack their teammate [it was actually good that he didn’t do it on instinct], and grabbed Spy by the throat to strangle him or break his neck. It would be bad if he succeeded, but at least Medic was there, and they were at base. Oh wait, was the respawn machine even on at night? Pauling had a lot money decisions to make and-

Spy choked Soldier right back, apparently at full force because Solly didn’t immediately snap his neck. Then he let go with one hand so he could rip off Soldier’s helmet and started punching him in the face. And he was punching real hard and fast, so fast Solly didn’t have time to react before getting dizzy again.

Sniper and Pyro ran over to try and separate them, but Spy just picked Soldier up and threw him at them like Scout’s idiot brothers cheating at bowling. The problem was Spy was out to kill, and everyone else really didn’t want to hurt him [Soldier did, but that wasn’t news]. Jeremy had a plan though.

”Engie, Medic! Follow my lead!” He ran towards new Spy and grabbed him in a firm hug. Like he expected, Spy wasn’t attacking him. He didn’t attack Engineer or Medic when they also started hugging him, even though Medic was still as creepy as ever.

“Calm down man, we’re not gonna hurt you.” Spy choked out something half-sad half-enraged in French. “Herr Spy, we do not understand what the problem is. And I wish I could say we speak French, but we don’t. Please breathe for a moment and tell us why you are so angry.”

Spy hesitated and started to breathe better, which made him think better too. Some of the color returned to his face and he seemed to break out of whatever hate trance he was in.

“Ze smoking room? We were not.. you three were not..” He looked around at the shaken teammates and Soldier, who was fine somehow. “Oh- Oh God, it wasn’t real, was it?” Spy sank to his knees and the trio took the chance to let go of him, and make room for the others to come over. “I’m sorry. I’m so very sorry!”

”What happened lad? You lost yourself for a bit.” Nobody was mad, thankfully. They were really more worried than anything. Spy hesitated to answer. “I do not know if I should say. Clearly it was a night terror I should not have believed… But I did.” “I think ya owe us an answer, mate. If yer having nightmares that bad, we gotta know for next time.” Sniper was right. They didn’t; know what set Spy off, or if it would happen again. And new Spy knew it.

“Is this room bugged? With ze same cameras as the rest of ze Base?” He really thought deadbeat Spy would leave cameras around his rooms? Well, to be fair, he didn’t know the guy. “Naw. He wouldn’t leave the Admin’s cameras in heah. Liked his privacy.” So did Sniper, who lived in his van. Helped him avoid the cameras. Spy sighed and held his legs to his chest with his arms.

“Then I will say. And I hope it will not offend you. It was a stupid nightmare, but it felt real.” Spy swallowed hard. “Medic, Engineer and Scout were not there, but we were told ze whole team was soon to die. You did not care at all, and…” It took Spy a while to continue. Nobody bugged him about it, clearly he was worried about cameras for a reason. When Spy did look up and start talking again, he was on the verge of tears.

”And my.. my two year old son was there with you. You had convinced him that death was.. fun. He was saying things that were not good, not health-ful.” Nobody knew what to say to that. Jeremy really wanted to say something nice, but he didn’t have words. Why the Hell was he having nightmares like that?! Nobody on the team was crazy enough to hurt a baby like that, not even Medic and Pyro! New Spy sobbed, surrounded by the broken glass and spilled wine and hurt teammates. “I thought it was real. I’m sorry, I’m so very sorry, you are very nice people!” Without thinking, Jermey found himself getting on the floor with Spy and hugging him. He didn’t really do hugs that often. He hugged Pauling when she turned out to be okay on Grey Mann’s island. And sometimes he hugged Ma.

His brothers thought hugging another guy was weak behavior, even if it was with another brother. And even though he didn’t agree with them, their stupid judgement stopped him from being a hugger a long time ago. But not this time. And he figured he was right, because Spy leaned into him and kept crying.

Somehow, he didn’t feel like a man beating people up and then crying was weak behavior at all. Especially if it’s for his kid’s sake.

———————-

Medic was right about that de-aging curse. It was probably meant to make Soldier hurt or scare Zhanna when confronted with something he didn’t remember.

They knew part of the nightmare had to do with the last wishes, the not caring about death thing that made grown Spy colder to the team. But not the baby being in danger. They didn’t know what triggered that idea. And they sure as Hell didn’t like it.

They were gonna tear Appalachia apart if they had to, that stupid wizard needed to pay. And Spy needed to be turned back into his normal self before he had another cursed episode.

Engineer told them about the possible lead and they sent a message to Pauling the next morning.

#tf2 #dadspy #tf2 spy #tf2 scout #sad lad hours #angst fanfic

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woodstoneb-b · 5 days

Text

Welcome back to Woodstone B&B where stunning sunrises welcome you each day!

As well as stunning surprises I guess, because as I discovered after last entry, the Lady of the Manor and the ghost that has no pants have a...thing going on.

Flower: Oh yeah, they're all over each other like jellyfish!

Uh...huh...

The Woodstone property is pretty massive and one of the nicest spots is our very own lake!

Thor: Thor is jealous of pixel self, it has been half a century since Thor was able to fish for that greatest of all foods...cod.

Alberta: Oh lord, don't get him started.

Trevor: Can we fish in the lake in real life, Jay?

Ahem...unfortunately after consultation with the EPA, we've been advised that the level of heavy metals in the water is slightly too high so in the interests of our guests, fishing is off limits.

Now here's something of interest, here at Woodstone we have a secret underground vault! It was constructed in the 1890s by Elias Woodstone, no doubt to hold all the Woodstone family riches.

Hetty: Which he didn't get the chance to use, instead he ended up locked inside it by the builder. Which is where cuckolding will get you, so take note.

I assure all prospective guests that the skeleton in the ACTUAL basement is fake, I mean, obviously we wouldn't leave a real skeleton on the premises!

Er, Pete, what the Hell are you doing?

Pete: I appreciate worksmanship, and this is fine workmanship! It looks almost real!

Yep, definitely a fake skeleton.

Thor: Why would there be rain in this mythical space? Thor cannot fish in such weather! The cod I could be catching -

Alberta: I told you not to get him started.

In the meantime, rain and even a lack of pants doesn't deter some of the ghosts.

Trevor: A fudgiscle! Man, what I wouldn't give for one of those...

Sass: This game is making me hungry....hey, Sam, can we have a pizza to smell tonight?

Thor: Seems game is not always correct...Trevor never wins 'Rock, Paper, Scissors' in real life.

Trevor: I swear, it makes no damn sense. How do you always know.

Thor: That is secret.

Is this more accurate?

Thor: Hahaha, small man would never dare such move against Thor.

Um, Alberta? That's uh...not safe.

Alberta: This ain't real, Jay, and these microwaves...damn, you modern people don't know how good you got it!

Alberta: I mean, look at this convenience! In my time it would have taken like half a day to get a dinner like this!

Well, I'll pass on your compliments to Swanson's.

Oh God, what are you planning now, No Pants?

Trevor: Wouldn't you like to know?

I don't think I do, to be honest...

Flower: Eee buttefly chasing! My favourite thing!!

Thor: And Flower doesn't even need to worry about boundary now.

Flower: I'm supposed to worry about a boundary?

Thor *groan*

Trevor: Cool, horses!

Looks like the feeling isn't mutual.

Trevor: Wow, you've been fishing all day, Big Guy?

Thor: A whole day is nothing to Thor, Thor once spent two days fishing for a much spoken of and legendary cod, it is all colours of the rainbow and is longer than -

Alberta: Just walk away, Jay and come back in an hour or two...he should be finished by then.

Trevor: Broooooo!

Thor: Broooooo!

Well, that's something you don't see every day...a Viking and a Wall Street broker doing shakkas at each other.

Alberta: Jay, you nailed it! Here I am lookin' ready to paint the town red! Starting with a drink at this speakeasy!

Isaac: sigh I am feeling isolated and unfulfilled, there's no Samantha in this game to write my story.

Well, you know, you can write your own story in this.

Isaac: What? Why didn't you say so?! Fetch me a quill and all the parchment you can afford!

Yeah, that's really not necessary, you just need a typewriter or a computer.

Isaac: Right! Lead me to it!

Trevor: Hey nothing to see here..

Isaac: What are you talking about, you've got one of those typewriters!

Trevor: Yeah, but...this is a secret room....which you guys don't know about.

Isaac: I have never actually seen that room before, what do you do in there?

Hetty: Never you mind.

Here's an interesting development, Sass's simself rolled a want to be a sculptor so here we go.

Sass: You know, I wanted to be a storyteller...but being able to create art that will last for eons...sounds good to me!

Thor: Meanwhile, Thor has decided to keep cod and other fish to admire. Also eat if famine occur.

Righty-oh, good thinking.

On that note, we'll leave our ghostly pals for now. What hijinks will they get up to next time? Stay tuned!

#ghosts cbs #the sims 3 #woodstone b&b

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goatpaste · 1 year

Note

What would happen if I asked you to talk about one of your ocs? Go as deep into the lore as you want :)

mm ykno I WILL take an excuse to talk about my ocs and run :)

How bout my less talked about jojo oc Doro

Iv been lookin for an excuse to redo his design, iv never been totally happy with his original look so he's a go again!

Changing his stand from a regular stand to an armor stand. Still works the same, mean to reflect someone deepest desires to the point that they will walk right to it even if they KNOW the stands trick. Once close enough it snaps like an angler fish with the armor equipped with booby traps all over that open up to get their enemy. the inside of Fisherman Blues armor looks like an iron maiden and god knows where Doro's actual body fits, skinny legends fitting it in there somewhere.

As for Doro's character profile, its not much I'v ever dived into like i have others

But Doro is on the younger side of Roxanne's current Hires only being there for a short few years.

Doro and Janelle are friends but the two dont see eye to eye, as when Janelle started scheme to get everyone out of Roxanne's clutches and out of their dangerous work, Doro flat out told her he wanted no part in it. Their close enough that he won't snitch on her or stop her, but he wants nothing to do with it. Janelle may be tired and upset by the reality that has become their work, but Doro knew exactly what some rich fancy woman with hair a foot tall on her head with a law degree was not capable of any kindness. The work does pay as promised at least and so long as it does Doro is content playing punching bag for rich assholes to get off to

Before coming to work for Roxanne, Doro (like most of Roxannes hires) had little money and no connections in the world. Anyone he grew close to, or grew close to him he always hurt. Everyone wants to get close to him, get to know him see who he is, but no one ever wants to stick around once they know him. Roxanne doesnt want to get to know him, Roxanne just wants him to run around in skimpy outfits and flaunt what he has while some big muscle pushes him around in the ring so they can make some big bucks. He gets his work done, he gets to go home so long as he survives and he can do and buy whatever he wants because he has no one who needs to lean on him, he doesnt want people to lean on him or need him. He's alone and its the way he likes it, supporting number one at the bottom of the ladder comfortably.

At least that what he'll tell people. Its probably half truth, and half defeat and acceptance to the way of things. make no friends, make money and leave a hot corpse.

Also to the side of his character, Doro loves Janelle as a coworker, but hates her best friend Mac. Especially because Mac often ask to be put against Doro in the ring (and as one of Roxies favorites he gets what he wants) and its always for the same reason, because despite Doro's ability meaning to show people what they want and drop their guard, what mac see's only makes him fight harder, Doro is sure to get the worst ass kicking when Mac is the one he's fighting because whatever Fisherman Blue's showing him, his gets Mac's blood pumping. He also just hates Mac lol, beyond this he finds the younger man loud and bothersome especially with all his advances of friendship and inviting Doro out constantly to hang out with the other wrestlers.

#jojo #jjba #nuclear heat #my ocs #doro #fishermans blues

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thepaintedlady00 · 1 year

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Hello! I have been reading your morpheus little narrations and I LOVED THEM. I wanted to ask you for one, a bit long, based on the song Ballroom of Romance by Celtic Woman, where the reader is a human dreamer that, as friend of Lucienne, wanted to celebrate the Day of the librarian (september 13), and somehow convinced morpheus to do a ballroom on that huge throne room he has for nothing and she sings and dance this song between dreams and nightmares alike, dressed and all. Mutual pining of course 🥰 thank you for your time if you accept. ✨

Here's the song:

Bleesings!

Yeesssss!!! Lucienne would 100% be pulling the strings behind this just so her two closest friends could end up together and happy! 😂😍🥰 Thank you waiting!

You had known Lucienne for a few years, not as long as some people had known her, but definitely longer than most. She was hard-working, loyal, and absolutely dedicated to her library. You admired her. Her tenacious way of keeping the books in order and her fondness of particular volumes that made homes at her desk every now and again when the mood struck her to re-read them. It was because of your deep friendship with The Dreaming's royal librarian that you found yourself standing face to face with Lord Morpheus, The King of Dreams.

Though you'd spent much of your time within his realm, you and Lord Morpheus rarely interacted. You'd had conversations, small and fleeting and sparse, but you didn't know him like you did others. Everyone else assured you it was just his way, but sometimes you felt him looking at you... felt the burn of his piercing eyes fixed on you while you read or while you sat in the quiet of Fiddler's Green. You were convinced he hated you and given the speck of information you'd managed to gather on his previous interactions with your kind he had good reason to.

Morpheus tilted his head slightly, "You want to throw a ball?"

"I mean we don't have to call it that, but yes. The Day of the Librarian is coming up and I think it would be nice if we celebrated Lucienne's hard work."

"Lucienne has been by my side for eons," he answered. "I could think of no one more deserving of celebration than her."

You were finally able to take a full breath, unencumbered by the nervous weight that had made your lungs tight. "Good... Thank you. I can get everything figured out. You're probably busy."

He shook his head. "I am free at the moment, I shall provide you with whatever you require."

Working alongside the king was not exactly in your plans for the day, yet you found yourself enjoying it. Lord Morpheus was a meticulous planner. Everything had to be perfect, which would normally cost you valuable time and resources, however a being that could create anything one could imagine didn't exactly have to worry about that. He'd listened to your color recommendations and arranged for some dreams and nightmares to play instruments. He'd even gone so far as to make everyone new clothes to wear to the celebration, you included.

You ran your hands down the soft silk gown he'd made you. It was simple, yet so much more. The rich blue fabric looked like a night sky, seemingly twinkling with stars and cosmic light when you moved a certain way. You'd taken your hair out of its normal ponytail and carefully fixed it before nervously exiting the side room Lord Morpheus had offered to let you change in. He stood with his back to you, quietly instructing the handyman, Mervyn on where he wanted tables moved to maximize the space of the throne room.

The pumpkin head's eyes went wider as he turned to look at you. "Lookin good kid!"

Morpheus turned as well, the hard planes of his face going slack for a moment as his whole demeanor shifted to a softer one. That gaze you often felt burning you from afar was now closer than ever, and if you were being honest you didn't dislike how it felt. You blushed and tucked your hair behind your ear. "Thanks, Merv."

Lord Morpheus straightened up and cleared his throat. "It does not appear to need any modifications."

"Oh," you looked down at your now bare feet. "Could trouble you for some shoes? I don't think it'd be appropriate of me to be walking around your palace barefoot."

For a second you could have sworn he smiled as he waved his hand and peered at you through his thick dark lashes. "You are always welcome to trouble me, dreamer."

The shoes were simple flats, perfect for dancing long into the night. "Thank you, Lord Morpheus."

Lucienne was nose deep in one of her favorite books when you skipped into the library and placed your hands loudly on her desk. "Loosh!"

She didn't even look away from her book as she answered, "Yes, bookworm?"

You scrunched your nose at her nickname for you and smiled even wider as your ruse was set in motion. "Lord Morpheus is looking for you."

"He is?" Her dark eyes lifted and she quickly stood from her seat. "Where is he?"

"Throne room," you answered following in her hurried steps. "He sounded quite cross."

"Oh dear," she muttered.

It took all you had not to giggle when she'd stepped into the throne room and froze at the sight of the whole of The Dreaming gathered. Everyone respectfully bowed their heads and uttered words of praise to her as she looked around the room. Once her eyes landed on the banner "Day of Lucienne" that Mervyn and Matthew had hung over the stained glass windows she turned to look at you. "You did this?"

"Not without help," you replied nodding to Lord Morpheus, who stood on the bottom step with a tender look in his eyes as Lucienne turned to him.

His hands were wound behind his back, as they often were, as he spoke. "The day of the librarian may be a human custom, but from this day forth it will be a beloved holiday in The Dreaming. One in which we all thank you for your loyal service."

You could see Lucienne's eyes fill with tears as she shook her head in disbelief. "My lord... I'm afraid I do not know what to say."

"Absolutely nothing," you answered giving her a hug. "You deserve it Loosh. Happy you day."

"Thank you," she whispered, looking back up to her king. "Thank you both."

The party began the second the band began to play, and with a lot of coaxing from your friend - and a not-so-subtle abuse of her new holiday - you began to sing.

"On summer nights when the barley's high The stars are twinkling in the sky Take a walk by the riverside And let the music be your guide

Follow where the pathway takes you On your bike or arm-in-arm Through the crossroads, to the dance hall Down the road to Murphy's barn

We plant the seeds and till the soil We pray for rain and pray for sun Now it's time to stop a while Forget your worries everyone

Once the barn was full of grain But then old Murphy took the chance Cleaned it out and hired a band Now it's the ballroom of romance

Whack for the danna, swing your partner Leave your troubles at the door We will dance until the morning light Come take my hand and we'll take the floor

Whack for the danna, swing your partner Around the floor, now one-two-three We will dance until the break of dawn So take my hand and dance with me"

You danced with the music as the instruments filled the silence left after your voice faded off the pillars. Grabbing Matthew's tiny crow foot you swirled around giggling as he flew to "spin" you.

"The week is over, work is done So now it's time to have some fun The place is old and there's money owed Tonight forget that heavy load

The sky is clear without a cloud The air, it hums with music loud The moon is full and shining bright They'll come from far and wide tonight

And will I get to steal a dance With the one who puts me in a trance? If not, at least you'll get to dance Down at the ballroom of romance

Whack for the danna, swing your partner Leave your troubles at the door We will dance until the morning light Come take my hand and we'll take the floor

Whack for the danna, swing your partner Around the floor, now one-two-three We will dance until the break of dawn So take my hand and dance with me

Shined his boots and combed his hair Chosen something fine to wear By hand in glove, could this be love? Is there magic in the air?"

Lucienne grabbed hold of your hand, smiling so brightly as she danced beside you. Her movements were both clumsy and oddly elegant as she attempted one of the many dances she'd read about in her books. The happiness and life that filled the throne room was overflowing.

"The one that chases every day Now is lost for words to say To the girl in the flowing dress This night they never will forget

Whack for the danna, swing your partner Leave your troubles at the door We will dance until the morning light Come take my hand and we'll take the floor

Whack for the danna, swing your partner Around the floor, now one-two-three We will dance until the break of dawn So take my hand and dance with me

Whack for the danna, swing your partner Leave your troubles at the door We will dance until the morning light Come take my hand and we'll take the floor

Whack for the danna, swing your partner Around the floor, now one-two-three We will dance until the break of dawn So take my hand and dance with me"

A cold hand touched your arm, gently pulling you into one last twist. Morpheus looked down at you with no expression, but stars shone in his eyes as he slowly danced with you until the music faded. With a breathless laugh you bowed your head. "Thank you, Lord Morpheus."

He bowed, kissing your hand. "Thank you, dreamer."

Lucienne watched the pair of you from afar, proudly smirking at the outcome of her devious plan. She'd long known of Lord Morpheus' feelings for you and even longer suspected yours for him. Seeing the two of you together at last without the intimidation or the awkward fumbling for words she quietly noted that this was the perfect end to her day.

Weeks later you found yourself soaking wet standing on the steps of the palace. Your dreams that night had changed from a smooth sailing boat voyage to a storm and rough seas. You found your way into The Dreaming when you'd fallen overboard, but sadly you remained wet. "Lord Morpheus!" You called out.

The darkly dressed Endless emerged from the large doors and regarded your disheveled appearance with a raised brow. "Yes, dreamer?"

"Why did my lovely dream suddenly turn to a cold wet nightmare?" You pondered.

He merely shrugged. "While I rule over the unconsciousness of your world I do not have full command of it."

"Bullshit," you insisted, quickly remembering who you were talking to and adding, "My lord."

His lips quirked into a thin smile. "I shall look into this nightmare of yours."

"I don't suppose I could trouble you for some dry clothes," you replied with a sheepish smile. "Lucienne won't let me into the library if I'm wet."

Morpheus took a few steps toward you, gently setting his hand against your cheek. "You are always welcome to trouble me, dreamer."

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jwowwsboobs · 9 months

Text

Gimme Yer Love, Angel in the Night

The thing about LA is, it's fucking weird. I mean, Los Angeles, city of angels, full of people lookin' to rip you off, rob you dead, take yer boots. And the sun is always fuckin' shining. It never fucking rains. It's like heaven for people with big dreams, but they all come and die. It's the home of the rich, the famous, the megastars. And there are broke people, homeless people, hookers and their pimps, winos and wash-outs fuckin' everywhere.

And me. I guess I'm broke people. I work at a shit job, washing plates, trying not to fuck up my hands or hair, so when I get off, I can kick out the jams in half empty clubs with guys I don't really like or party with people I know well enough to know they don't lace their shit, and then come back home, chick or two on my arm, crash on the couch and get woken up by my roommate, Tripp, AKA the nicest guy on earth, so I get to work on time. Rinse and repeat.

I was headed to the club that night, paycheck in cash in my pocket and brand new leather pants on my ass. Maybe to meet a chick. More likely to have a few and pick one up. I shoved my way through the crowd of people to a guy I knew on door duty, who let me in for free, much to the annoyance of the lame-ass and his girlfriend I'd cut in-front of. Sucks to suck! The club was dark, the air was thick and hot with smoke, sweat, spilled beer, shrieking guitars and thudding drums and bass. The stage was like a setting sun, people crowded around it, almost blocking out the band. You could still see them, but barely. I shoved my way to the bar, squeezing in next to two beautiful blondes, perfect butts, tall as trees, hair as big as the sun, two feet from the smokers corner and the bathroom doors. They side eyed me and rolled their twelve pounds of eyelashes and eyeliner at each other, pouting their big red lips and twirling their hair around their perfectly manicured fingers. Tough crowd, but I always like a challenge. I flagged down the bartender, asked for a beer. As the bartender went to grab a glass and fill it up, I turned to the girls.

"Y'all want anything?" I shouted at them.

The one next to me looked at me like I was a new species of sidewalk slime that she'd just found on the bottom of her brand fuckin' new 500 dollar heels, but her friend smiled and pointed at their glasses.

"Refill for these ladies," I gestured to the girls, and the bartender took their glasses away to make whatever overpriced, fruity shit they'd been drinking. I turned to the stage, drank my beer, waited for the right moment to grease them up. Turns out they had me beat.

When their drinks came, they split before I could say "You're welcome."

Tough break.

I knocked the rest of the beer back, and was about to flag for a refill, when I felt cold breath on my neck.

"Some people have no fuckin' manners, huh, sunshine?"

I looked over my shoulder into cold, dark eyes peering over mirrored sunglasses, almost covered by shaggy black hair. He slipped into the open space next to me. Stage lights dimmed.

"Uh-"

He held up his hand, sliver and black rings sparkling in the club's flashing lights. "Another beer?"

"Shit, sure man," I said, digging in my pockets for some cash. He snorted.

"On me."

"Hey, thanks man! I'm Lani."

"Ryan." We shook hands, his hands like ice against my sweaty and damp palm.

"You new to town?" I asked, as we waited.

"Hardly." He blew his bangs out of his face. "Are you?"

"Not really. Been here a coupla months. Where are ya from?"

"Far away. Why'd you come here, farm boy?"

I blinked. "How'dja know I grew up on a farm?"

Ryan glanced up and down at me. "You've still got a farmers tan. And you just told me."

I rubbed my bare shoulders, suddenly cold in my cut off. "I coulda gotten that here, man, that doesn't mean anything!"

Ryan laughed at me. I couldn't tell if it was a mean laugh or not. It sounded mean. But it really didn't matter. He was hot. I could take a little denigration from a guy like that. "But you didn't."

I huffed. "Yeah alright, whatever, man. At least I look like I've seen the sun. Haven't you seen any movies recently, man? Pasty is out, tanned is in. Gotta look like yer livin'!"

He rolled his eyes. "So you wanna be a movie star."

"Hardly." I shrugged. "I mean, don't get me wrong, I wouldn't mind! Can't act for shit though. I'm gonna be a rockstar. Bigger than Morrison and twice as hot."

Ryan looked intrigued. "Morrison, huh?"

"Fuck yeah man, great fuckin' poet, rock STAR to a T, heartthrob...all that shit."

His eyes flicked up and down my outfit. "Where's the concho belt?"

I laughed. "I don't needa be carbon copy, that'd be boring and lame as fuck. Anyway, what are you here for?"

He shrugged, playing with his rings. "Just lookin' to have a good time for the rest of time. Figured what better place than LA."

I grinned and slapped him on the back. "Hell yeah man! Party never fuckin' stops here, it's like heaven."

Ryan half smiled and raised his glass. I hadn't noticed the beers had come. "Cheers."

We clinked glasses, and I drank.

I woke up with a roaring, pounding headache and a mouth drier than a 40-something in a loveless marriage looking at her fat, ugly husband. Which wasn't that weird, until I realized I was in my bed, and it was late afternoon, almost evening. I fumbled around, looking for some shades, trying to block out the too-bright sunlight, and fell out of my bed onto a pile of clothes and shoes. I groaned, and Tripp's footsteps came down the hallway and into my room.

"Jesus, dude, are you okay?"

I tried to say something that would have been, "Yeah man, I'm cool! Just need sunglasses and an Advil and possibly the greasiest cheeseburger known to man," but what came out sounded more like "Urugggggghhhhurnr."

"Man, you look like friggin' hell, lemme call yer boss 'n' tell him yer sicker than a dog and would probably die if you went in." He started out of the room.

"Sunglasses." I finally managed to croak out.

He didn't hear me. I groaned, and crawled back into my bed, pulling the blanket over my head and sending me into mostly darkness. It musta been a hell of a night, since I could barely fuckin' remember it. Except for that guy. Long, dark, messy hair. Dark eyes, perfect lips set in a slight sneer. Tarnished silver rings and piles of necklaces. White open button shirt and black jeans. Black and blue cowboy boots. Heaven's fallen angel, all in black. Ryan. I hadn't gotten his FUCKING number. I buried my face in my pillow. Maybe I'd smother to death and never have to worry about not ever seeing the world's hottest guy ever again.

"Good news man!" Tripp said loudly, walking back into my room. "Yer boss says you don't gotta go in t'day!"

I groaned.

"Bad news is, he says ya can't go in ever again."

Figures.

"It's all cool though man! I can get'cha another job, don't even worry about it. I'm goin' to work 'n' then to Michelle's birthday party. Left some money on the counter if you wanna order yerself something hot like pizza or Chinese food. Noodles are probably yer best bet. I'll be back like, tomorrow morning. Feel better man!"

Tripp left, and I stayed wrapped up in my blanket. Ryan's dark eyes swum in my head. His mean little laugh. I wanted to know that guy. Needed to love him. I was already in love, and it'd only been like 12ish hours.

I dragged myself out of bed as the sun finally sank behind the buildings, the streetlights and corner stores' neon lights flickering on. I shuffled into the bathroom, no shirt, still wearing my pants from the night before. I stared into the mirror. My hair was matted and tangled from the teasing and hairspray and sleeping in it. My skin looked much paler than the day before, but I didn't think much of it, cuz of how fucking SHITTY I felt. Hickies covered my neck, but there were none on my chest. Which struck me as weird, cuz usually when I'm with someone who's gonna give me hickies, they give 'em all over. Not stingy with the lovin'. I turned to look at my back. Covered in scratches.

"Guess we had fuckin' fun." I said to myself.

I shoved my hands into my pockets, pulling out all my money from yesterday (All of it? Hadn't I spent some of it?) and a crumpled up piece of paper. My hands shook as I unfolded it.

268-7886‬. R ☆

Of course he'd have fancy handwriting, perfectly formed cursive letters. I carefully folded it back up and stuck it back in my pocket, along with my cash, and stripped to shower.

The whole time, Ryan's face floated infront of me, his laugh echoing through my head.

I dried my hair, and wrapped the towel around my waist. I didn't feel hungover, but I felt this deep, gnawing hunger itching at my insides. Like when you've had sex for the first time and you want it again. I snatched my pants off the ground and went back to my room, pulling on clean (probably) boxers and grabbing the phone number. I took a beer from the fridge and sat on the couch in the living room, staring down the phone. I cracked it, chugged it, and before I could psych myself out of it, I picked up the phone and dialed.

It rang twice before he picked up.

"Hello?"

"Hey Ryan, it's Lani, you gave me this number yesterday night."

"Oh yeah," Ryan laughed breathily into the phone. "You wanna meet tonight?"

"Sure, where? The club?"

"No." Ryan paused. "Evergreen."

"Evergreen? The cemetery?"

"Mhm. Listen, ah...Lani. I've got to go. I'll see you there tonight. Midnight?"

"I-"

He hung up. I groaned, bashing the receiver into my damp hair.

"FUUUUUCK." I dropped the receiver back on the hook and buried my head in my hands. I had no choice.

It was eleven by the time I finally got the balls to get dressed and go out. I'd left my hair to air dry. Well, mostly air-dry. I blow-dried and hairsprayed my roots for a little of whatever the girls called volume when they did my hair. Found a loose, colorful button up that I half buttoned and didn't tuck in, tight jeans, cowboy boots. Smudged eyeliner that a girl had left behind in the bathroom across my lower lash line. And drank.

The taxi driver dropped me off half a block from the cemetery, like I asked him to. He watched me in the rearview, clearly trying to figure out why I wanted to go to a fuckin' cemetery this time of night, dressed like that. I tipped him extra for keeping his mouth shut. He took off, fast.

I waited til the street was empty and jumped the fence. And prayed it wouldn't take too long to find him.

As heaven would have it, it didn't.

Ryan sat on the steps of the mausoleum overlooking the chapel, wrapped in a tiger-striped fur jacket, cigarette hanging from his long, ringed fingers. He watched me approach like a hunting dog watching a bird. I could have sworn his eyes were yellow.

"Hey," I called.

"Hi." He dragged on his cigarette. "Thought you wouldn't show."

I shrugged and sat next to him. "If I didn't, what would you have done?"

Ryan shrugged and put the cigarette out on the sole of his star-covered platform boots. I studied the stars, red and sliver on black leather. "Dunno. Wanna go in?"

"What, in the mausoleum?"

He smiled at me, teeth glittering like stars in the dark. "Why not? The dead are good at keeping secrets, sunshine."

He stood up and slipped in. I looked up at the starless, black sky, and followed him. It was dark, and the side walls were lined by barred doors, leading to crypts. He turned around, fast, and pushed me up against the marble wall, breath cold against my neck.

"You want this?"

"Yeah."

Ryan licked my neck, and I winced from the pressure on the still sore hickies. His fingers slipped up my half-buttoned shirt, hand pressing against my rapidly beating heart.

"Feel good?"

"Mmhm." I moaned as he kissed my neck, gently, softly. I reached to grab his hip, to pull him closer. He grabbed my wrist and pinned it against the wall above my head. I squirmed a little, not liking the gap he kept between him and me, the cold air on my slightly exposed chest.

"Don't like that, huh?" He teased, tightening his grip on my wrist. His other hand slipped down my shirt, pressing against my hip.

"Man," I whined. "C'mon-"

"Shhh." Ryan pressed his hand against my mouth, muffling my whines. I squirmed, wanting him up against me. He laughed, pulling his hand from my mouth, but letting his index and middle fingers brush against my lower lip. "Suck."

I tentatively licked the tips of his fingers. His teeth and eyes glittered in the dark and I felt my dick twitch. I grabbed his hand, and pushed his fingers into my mouth, licking, sucking, moaning, working them the way I would have worked his dick, lost in it.

With a pop, he pulled his hand out of my mouth, and grabbed my face, smearing my spit all over my cheek.

"You like that, huh? Little slut."

I groaned, and he laughed softly, and kissed up my neck to my mouth. He was barely touching me, and I felt like I was burning up. I could barely think. He kissed me, working his tongue into my mouth, dropping my wrist to grab my hips, pushing me against the wall, and him against me. I moaned into it, twisting one hand into his hair, one around his shoulder, pulling him closer. He pulled away, and I gasped as the cold mausoleum air hit my face and my chest. He watched me breathe heavily. I knew my face was flushed, but I couldn't tell if his was.

"Ditch the shirt."

I licked my lips, wanting to push his buttons. "If you want it gone so bad, you take it off."

"Yeah?" He said softly, with a hint of amusement.

"Yeah."

He moved close to me, hands barely brushing against me, unbuttoning the shirt. "Gonna regret that, sunshine."

"Make me."

He laughed softly, sliding the shirt off my shoulders. I pulled it off the rest of the way and he trailed his fingers down my chest. I breathed heavily.

"Take off my belt."

I knelt on the floor, fumbling with the cold metal and leather of his belt. I found the end of the tongue as his hand tangled in my hair. I looked up at him. His face was obscured by his dark hair and shadows. I pulled it out of his belt loops and felt the buckle open and smiled. He traced circles in my hair. I pulled his belt off, laying it on the ground.

"Keep going," he said.

I undid the top button, trying to keep my touch light. His grip on my hair tightened. I looked up at him.

"Keep going?"

He sucked his breath in quickly. "Yes."

I slowly unzipped his jeans, and he huffed impatiently. I grinned in the dark.

"Don't like that, huh?"

Ryan pulled his hands out of my hair roughly and pulled his dick out of his boxers. I could barely make out the shape in the dark.

"Open." He said, grabbing my hair again.

I did, wrapping one hand over his as he pushed into my mouth. He sighed, tangled his hand deeper in my hair, moaning, pulling on it with every movement. I moved up and down slowly, and he pushed his hips forward into my mouth. My dick twitched in my jeans, but I couldn't think about anything but him.

He groaned, gripping my hair tighter, sliding in and out of my mouth. I moaned as he hit the back of my throat and his hips bucked.

"Oh god. Do that again," He said, breathless.

I moaned again as he hit the back of my throat. He groaned, pounding into my mouth harder and faster.

The tightness in my jeans, him fucking my face, his heavy breathing, the random pretty little moans, was driving me crazy. I gripped his thighs and looked up at him. His hair, shaggy and long, mostly covered his face.

I couldn't think. I closed my eyes again, relaxing my throat as he fucked me. My throat. Whatever. I felt my spit dripping down my chin, falling on my bare chest. He pulled on my hair. I felt him tensing up.

"Lani," He moaned breathlessly. "Lani, I'm close."

I groaned, my dick uncomfortably hard.

"Lani," he whined. "Oh god, Lani, I-"

He moaned, and his dick twitched as he came. I swallowed, and pulled away, wiping my mouth. My knees hurt. He panted above me, one hand on his dick and the other on my chin.

"You looks so good like that," he said. "C'mere."

I stood up slowly, knees hurting, and he pushed against me. He bit my bottom lip, slid his hand up my ribs, resting on my heart.

I moaned as he situated his thigh between my legs, rubbing it against my crotch. I pulled on the front of his jacket, wanting him closer. He smiled against my mouth, rocking his hips against me, and I closed my eyes, moaning into his mouth. I pulled on his hair, wrapped my arm around his neck, grabbed his bare hip.

He pulled away just before I came, and I whined in frustration.

"Shhh, baby," he whispered in my ear, fumbling with my jeans button and zipper. "I'm not gonna let you go that easy."

I panted, squirming as he trailed his fingers over my stomach. "Ryan, please, I need, I-,"

"What'dya need, sunshine?"

I moaned and he scoffed.

"C'mon, use yr words."

"Fuck me," I whined. "Fuck me!"

He kissed me. "Anything you want."

I squirmed as he pulled my jeans and boxers down, the cold air hitting my aching dick.

"Turn around, grab those bars right there and relax."

I did as told, breathing slowly and deeply. He rubbed some lube onto my ass and started to prep me. I moaned as he worked his finger in and out and in and out, adding another, stretching me out. He rubbed my back, telling me how good I was doing, how well I was taking it, how good it was gonna feel. I closed my eyes, letting him, his smell, his voice, his touch, wash over me. I was in heaven in that dark cemetery, about to get fucked by an angel of the night.

I heard a condom wrapper crinkle.

"I'm gonna take it slow, baby." He kissed my neck as he pushed in slowly.

I moaned.

He grabbed my hip with one hand and jacked me off with the other. While fucking me slowly. I couldn't think, much less comprehend exactly how good his touch felt. The minutes became one continuous moment, nothing existing except for him. His voice. His hips against my ass. His mouth on my neck. His hands on me. Him. Heaven-sent.

He kissed my neck, licked it, moaned into it. His thrusts got more and more rough and uneven, his moans increasing in frequency against my neck. I whined, feeling my orgasm close in on me, unable to keep my eyes open. He bit me as I came, and I screamed. He let go of my dick to grab my throat, keeping me from squirming, my cum warm on his hand, still pounding into my ass as he sucked blood from my neck. And darkness ate away at my vision.

I woke up to a cop shining his flashlight in my eye and a dog's head on my chest. A brindle pitbull. Like home. It was still dark out as the cop roughly escorted me out of the cemetery, grumbling something about the city's "fuckin' bum problem." The dog followed. I flagged a cab, half to prove that I was not a "fuckin' bum" despite missing my shirt, shoes, and my pants being half unbuttoned and half to get home fast. Ryan had disappeared completely, and I felt like hell. Worse than yesterday. Everything about me fuckin' hurt. The dog clambered in the taxi with me, and the cabby didn't bother trying to kick either of us out.

It took forever, but the dog and I got home before Tripp. The dog almost didn't follow me in, but I shoo'ed it inside. No need to get my fuckin' neighbors pissed, they already hated me and Tripp. I didn't bother turning any lights on. The clock said 2:39, and I abandoned my pants on my bedroom floor, practically clawing them off my legs, and curled up on my bed, sweating and shaking. I felt sicker than I ever had and the pain was nearly unbearable.

The dog sat in my doorway, watching me.

"What'chu lookin' at," I groaned. An intense wave of nausea hit me, and I gagged. I stumbled to the bathroom, nearly tripping on the dog's tail on my way, and threw up in the toilet. Lucky shot. Sort of. It was all over my chest too. I groaned and gently banged my head against the wall.

I waited a couple of minutes to make sure nothing more was gonna make a cameo on the bathroom floor, and stripped to shower and rinse my mouth out in one shot. And maybe hurt less.

When I got out, my neck hurt real bad. I touched it. My hand came away red-ish. What the fuck? I patted it with my towel, and the towel came away red too. I stared at it, not comprehending what this meant. Somewhere in the apartment, someone was playing my guitar. I reached to the mirror, to wipe the condensation off, and the realization hit me.

I was home alone and someone was playing my guitar. Incredibly well, but someone was playing it.

I hastily wrapped my towel around my waist and found Ryan, sitting on my bed, playing guitar.

"What the fuck are you doing here?"

Ryan did not look up, continuing to play. "I came home with you, stupid."

"No you didn't," I said. "You ditched me in the cemetery. I woke up with this dog on my chest 'n' it followed me home. You just showed up. Stupid."

"Where's the dog then?"

That was a good question. I stuck my head out of my room and looked around. Tripp's door was locked like it always was, the bathroom was empty, the living room-slash-dining room-slash-kitchen was empty. No dog.

"I don't know." I said, head pounding. "I just wanna go to bed. I feel sick."

Ryan stopped playing and looked at me, raising his eyebrows. "Wonder why."

"What?"

"Nothin'," Ryan rolled his perfect eyes and went back to playing. "Put clothes on 'n' c'mere."

"Weirdo." I grumbled, grabbing a pair of boxers and a shirt from my dresser. "Barely fuckin' know you, 'n' you come into my house, play my fuckin' guitar-"

"You came to my house first, sunshine."

"What? When?" I said, dropping my towel and pulling my boxers on and the shirt over my head.

He rolled his eyes. I stood there, headache beating my brains, trying to piece it all together. Black clothes. Irresistible charm. Midnight. Cemetery. Dog that was there and then gone. Biting my neck.

"Vampires aren't real?" The room was swaying.

Ryan laughed at me. "You sound sure."

I groaned, crawling into my bed and curling up. The world was spinning. Everything hurt, my head most of all.

"It should be really kicking in right now, the venom." Ryan said, playing the most beautiful, melancholic, entrancing melody I'd ever heard. "Your body's trying to reject it, which is why everything hurts so bad right now. Eventually you'll die, probably within the next 4 hours. At around, I dunno, hour 5 of the venom being in your system, you become paralyzed. But you're still awake. You get to feel everything. Your lungs slowly stop working, your blood slowly stop moving, your heart slowly stop beating. It's incredible honestly. Very fascinating to watch."

"Make it stop," I groaned.

"Turn you into a vampire? I don't think so. I'd rather watch you die." He started playing a new song.

"Please, Ryan. Please."

Ryan sighed. "Why should I?"

"I love you," I groaned. "I barely know you but I love you. You're gonna be alone forever. Don't you want someone by your side?"

"You'll stop loving me."

"I won't." I said, struggling to pull myself up so I could sit against the wall. "I never stop loving someone. I love forever. I'll never leave you."

Ryan looked at me in the eye. For the first time, I could see the depth of the darkness in his dark brown eyes.

"Don't lie to me."

"I'm not." I said. "Let me love you. Give me a chance."

He put the guitar down and crawled next to me.

"Why?"

I turned my head to look at him. It hurt. "I think you're holy."

"No you don't."

"I do. I see heaven in you. I feel it in you. You're an angel."

Ryan didn't say anything.

"Ryan. Please. Let me love you. Don't be afraid."

"I'm not angel."

"You are to me."

"That would change."

I closed my eyes. It was getting harder and harder to breathe. "No. It won't."

I heard him sign pointedly. "Wouldn't you rather go to heaven?"

"Heaven doesn't mean anything to me if you're not there."

He inhaled sharply.

"You don't know what you're saying."

I took a deep breath and opened my eyes. "Ryan, look at me."

He wouldn't meet my eyes.

"Please, look at me." I was desperate, about to cry. "Please, Ryan. Look at me."

He wouldn't.

Hot tears fell onto my shirt. "Ryan, please. I love you."

It hung in the air like a suicide.

"Stop crying." He finally whispered, wiping my tears away. I closed my eyes and leaned against him. Melting into him. Trying to relax.

"Lani, look at me."

I opened my eyes. Everything was blurry. I felt him press something warm and wet against my lips.

"Drink," he said. And I did.

And heaven could never compare.

#xoxo #333 #soooooooooooooooooo much i can say abt this. first of all thank u frank 4 being the inspiration thank u mel 4 offering tips n thank u both #4 assuring me it didnt suck when i thought it did. love u guys!#2ndly ryans phone number is the one from lanas honeymoon cover cuz i think im clever. 3rdly i am very scared 2 post this 4 reasons i cant f #fully understand or explain but im doing it anyway. hashtag girlboss or something. im gonna go cry into my girl dinner now. mop night!#love like heroin hate like heaven

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