#(that was sarcasm it is not my favorite part. i do not like it but I can recognize it) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

halcyone-of-the-sea · 11 months

Note

You're my favorite writer, and König is my favorite aussie man, so OF COURSE im making you write for him, hal, BEAR W ME !

Alright, what do you think about König with the “You’re here late.” prompt? The reader is part of KorTac and always worked alongside König, since they both entered about the same time, because of the readers personality, they are always fighting, one of these fights are specifically bad, leading the reader to go on a mission with another KorTac member, to help out somewhere else and take their mind off things, when the reader face a problem on the mission and ends up arriving late, König is furious.

Moths Hit the Window

PAIRING: König x F!Reader

SYNOPSIS: Fights with König were always loud, but this time his comments went a bit too far.

WORD COUNT: 5.9k

WARNINGS: Verbal fighting, angst, high tension, blood & stitches, wounds, canon typical violence, guns/weapons, death, suggestive near the end, fluff, hurt/comfort, etc.

A/N: Huge thanks to @idocarealot for the German translations!! Also, König's wearing the arachnid skin in this because I love it sm - enjoy, Anon!

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

You seethe. If eyes could turn red yous would be a beautiful shade of crimson—bloody knives ripping out of the cornea to strike whoever happened to get too close. It was as if the very air boiled with the force of a raging tsunami as you stomped down the local military base’s hallways, covered in blood and guts. Never had you reconsidered working for KorTac more than at this very moment.

Maybe I should just become a mercenary, you rip at the torn-apart gloves over your hands and jerk your arm out. Passerbyers quickly avert their eyes as you shove them into a garbage can and continue on with a growl. No shitty rules, no regulations—no fucking partners.

If people happened to slide past without noticing the steam coming out of your ears, they would have immediately locked eyes on the pure elephant of a man trailing fast behind. König’s eyes were goring into the back of your neck, gray and tan garb swaying as the packs and flash grenades on his combat vest bounced with every step. Accents of red do nothing in comparison to his visible flesh—the section of his eyes uncovered by his mask and head rig alight around his obsidian gaze.

König was muttering to himself far under his breath, curses and harsh comments all in German that he wouldn’t say to your face. At least not right now in view of others.

“I can hear you, you dimwit,” you hiss over your shoulder, grinding your teeth as you both make your way to the armory, “curse me out quieter!”

“You are making a scene!” The beast grunts, that heavily accented English striking your eardrums with its harsh dialect.

“Oh, jeez!” You raise your voice even higher, turning back forward and clenching your hands into fists as blood and guts drip off your gear—none of it yours. “I’m just so damn embarrassed, König! I’m making such a large and obnoxious display. Whatever will I do?!” Sarcasm like a valuable drug is injected into the waves of your voice. People from open doorways look out with shock, brows pulled up.

Everyone quickly darts back away when you snap your head in their direction and send them a scathing glare.

No one was surprised to find you and the Austrian going at it again but knew well enough to stay out of the crossfire. Lest someone get roped into it.

“Fuck off!” You spit the last curse into the burning air and shove past a soldier ahead of you.

König’s dark eyes flash dangerously, lips under his mask twisting into a sneer. The man’s shoulders seem to dig in even farther, spine curling over as if a brooding child.

This had all started the second you’d joined up with KorTac. Fresh out of the military and eager to get back into the game after a good vacation the PMC group had been at the top of your list. But if you’d known you’d be paired up with this damn mountain every chance there was just because he’d got into the game at nearly the same time as you, you’d have put in your luck with SpecGru.

“I do not see how this is appropriate behavior,” König follows as you place your palms on the black metal of the armory door, pressing with your shoulders. “I did what I was tasked to do—”

The masked man is cut off as you whirl on your heels, the door slamming shut as his body is shoved into it with strong arms. Dark eyes go wide in surprise, feeling the dig of your nails on his abdomen as your form presses into him and the chill of the door on his spine. You feel his skin bunch under his thick shirt and even if you want to stare him down that’s just not an option. Your warm figures shuffle together with panting breaths and dangerous glints in your eyes.

“Bull,” you drag out the word, growling it right up into his neck; sniper hood caressing your chin. König’s breath hitches with shakes of swirling emotions. “Shit.”

Shoving once more so he gets the point, you push off of him and stalk away like a feral wolf, already unclipping grenades and medical packs from your vest.

“You’re the damn reason the target got away!” Gear is thrown haphazardly to the long table in the center of the room. The Austrian watches with predatory eyes, hands clenched so hard that they quiver. He stays still, watching, as you send scathing glances. “The reason we’re going to be here for ten times longer than we’re supposed to be!”

“It is not my fault you failed to properly check the perimeter before you rushed in like a fool.” Volatile couldn’t be used to describe this…this was nothing short of volcanic. It was as if there were two sides of a scale filled with bullets and gunpowder—fire in the middle that was equally heating both piles as they raised and lowered erratically. König’s voice grates over the air, “I did what I could to fix your scheiße plan!”

“Don’t you shit on my plan!” You point, voice bouncing off the weapon racks as you rip the rifle strap from over your chest, chucking it away.

“I will shit on it—it was…it was…!” König’s voice cuts out and he can’t find the words. The Austrian descends into visceral German ramblings. “Es war so ziemlich der schlechteste Plan, den ich je gehört hab. Welcher halbwegs vernünftige Mensch geht in eine heiße Zone ohne vorher alle Zielobjekte richtig zu markieren?! Ich kann dich und deine Rücksichtslosigkeit nicht mehr leiden — du bringst mich um meinen Verstand! Hast du überhaupt ein Gehirn in deinem Schädel?”

You shake your head to yourself, heart pounding. “You’re still the one that was supposed to focus on the HVT. I rushed so he would flush out, but, no,” taking out the magazine of the rifle you hold it in your hands like an accusatory ruler that a teacher would hold. König shoves off the door and stands to his full height; arms tensed and straining before they coil around his chest in a soothing gesture.

He hated the fighting—the constant strain between the two of you. But when you were together it could never amount to anything else. The room felt like it was a million degrees.

Your eyes stab at him, “No! You had to go and focus on me! I hate to break this to you, König,” feet come forward and you once again find yourself close to him—breathing the same air and taking in the scent of gunpowder and blood. You point the tip of the magazine into his chest. His unseen lips pull; jaw clenching with held-back fire. “But I am not your damn mutt to keep on a leash. I had it under control.”

It’s as if you don’t realize the Austrian could snap you in half with a single kick of his leg, as if the sheer size of König had slipped your mind as a whole. His hands could snap your neck in an instant, but that was only if he got ahold of you.

But that was a line the both of you were never planning to cross. Words were one thing in this profession, actions another. If you ever got into a physical fight, you’d both kill each other, no doubt.

You’d like to think you’re a bit above that, but perhaps not.

König’s chest rises and falls deeply, taking in calming breaths as he tries to get his temper under control. “You didn’t,” he jeers out, “I saved your life, you Heißluftgebläse. And if you wanted to be treated less than a dog,” he grunts to you, head pulling down close to your face, harshly whispering out, “You could have simply asked me, yes?”

You both snarl at each other's throats like rabid animals, the world disappearing all around the obsidian eyes that match with yours; for a moment you get lost in the shining bits of silver in his iris that seem to burn with chilled iron. What little skin you can see is flushed and tight—hawk nose nearly poking out your eye as you’re leaned over like a giraffe near a bush.

Body vibrating, you sharply breathe, “I’m not even going to ask what that fucking means, you tool.”

“Good.” The words are bitten and fast, “because I am not telling you.”

“Great!”

“Perfekt!” You both were arguing like children. Hot faces and unwilling to let the other have the last word. If you got along it might have been funny.

“I’m going to dump all of your Einspänner out on the tarmac.” Your sure voice echoes with a definitive promise to the tone.

Pale lids widen in horror at the threat to the Austrian's favorite beverage, comfortably sitting in the Base’s fridge.

“You would not,” König’s tone is deathly serious and you smirk, eyes dancing. “You…” a guttural growl meets the air, mind translating words and giving meanings, “beast of a woman!”

“Oh, is that the best you can fucking do?!” You yell, splaying your hands out widely and moving away from him. “Now that’s really a show stopper, König, I’m shaking in my damn boots.”

“Ich komm mit dir nicht mehr klar.” König yells, moving back and placing both of his hands atop his head, knuckles white. “You’re rude—you do not even try to get along. You are loud and disrespectful; how do you live like this?!”

Your eyes slightly widen, watching the Austrian.

“Don’t try?” You echo, scoffing loudly. “What do you mean don’t try? I was the one to try and smooth things out between us in the beginning.”

“When?!” König spreads his hands out, knees slightly bent. “Because I have no recollection of such events.”

“Well of course you wouldn’t!” The heat was meeting a breaking point—words were getting more personal, sharper. Like a blade being honed for the kill slowly; being sharpened by rocks and whetstones of conviction.

König points a finger at you, voice going low and thin, “I’ve had enough of you, yes?” His sniper hood moves rapidly with his fast ricochets of breath. “Just about enough. Would you have wanted me to let you die?”

“I had it,” your lips spit, nose scrunched, and forehead tight. The man’s chest vibrates with a mute growl.

In all actuality, you’d never seen him this worked up before. König wasn’t above giving your quips back even if he obviously disliked it—most of that was due to the strange familiarity between the two of you. In large crowds, the man preferred to stay silent. This only added to his almost deadly aura with others, though you knew the muteness was because of social anxiety and not some built silence. He wasn’t shy per se, just afraid he’d say something wrong; mess up the conversation. You did most of the talking in meetings and you never minded it. Added him in when the topic was something he knew a lot about.

Your mind had addled it up to thinking it was cute, actually. How his feet would shuffle; his half-lidded gaze and his intense eye contact to let them know he was still listening. When he’d have to remind himself to look away with a pinch to his thigh because it was starting to seem threatening. It was endearing, even.

But around people König knew, well, he was going to speak his mind. No matter how long it takes his brain to catch up with his lips.

The only thing the two of you were good at was being moths—hitting the metaphorical window over and over on the same topics and tension points. Slamming heads and flapping wings. You were at the end of your rope just as he was.

“I should have never taken you as a partner!” He calls, feet splayed. “Should have gotten out of this the second you were assigned with me. Gott, ich hab wirklich versucht, dich zu verstehen — Ich hätte gleich aufgeben sollen.” Your lips thin, lungs stalling as all the air vacates the room. You stand still and listen to what he really thinks, fingers shaking.

König’s large form towers over all, great sparks of electricity flying out. His gear shakes as he moves, thigh straps pushing fabric to shift and conform to his body. Your blood pumps with brewing hesitance.

Maybe this had gone too far. I’ve never seen him like this.

“I can’t stand you any longer! Pathetic squabbles that mean nothing, absolutely ludicrous plans that make little headway.” Your head bursts with aggression and what little warning signs you have are squashed. “I can’t keep saving you because you can’t do your job correctly!”

“You don’t have to save me at all!” You scream. “You can’t keep your damn eyes off of me for five seconds, König.” Feet move away quickly from the armory door as if someone had come to put away their stuff but thought better of it. The next words burst from you before you can think of the contents. “It’s like you fucking love me or something!”

König doesn’t miss a beat, but for months afterward, he wishes he had.

“Oh, do not make me laugh—” he scoffs ferally, adrenaline making him talk, “as if anyone could ever love a woman like you in the first place.”

Twin eyes widen and both parties immediately fall silent. A sharp inhale.

Too far.

Under the hood, König’s face goes an embarrassing shade of red all the way down to his chest. Fingers freeze. Jaw slackens.

You feel like your heart was just grasped in his grip and ripped out of your ribs with one violent motion—one sentence out of all the others enough to knock down the rebuttal that had formed on the tip of your tongue. Your throat closes up as you blink in shock.

“I-I…” König stutters, mind blanking as he struggles for words. But anger was easier than pain.

Numb fingers rip off the last of your weapons and belongings as you let them hit the floor with defining thuds as warm shame floods your cheeks. Shaky puffs of breath like a panting dog. Dark eyes watch with regretful panic, heart jumping and eyes flinching. The adrenaline it…it made him forget himself on occasion—how to properly act when not on the battlefield. It was like that with everyone but…but he hadn’t meant that.

Shame that it’s already too late.

Your fisted hand slams into his chest, brutal and unforgiving. König lets off a grunt but does nothing as you slither past, hissing into his ear, “Find yourself a new punching bag.”

His hand snaps to his breast where you had slammed your KorTac patch right into his heart, catching it. It’s many moments before he can think enough through the alarm; form words.

“I…I didn’t…oh, du blöde Kuh!”

By the time the man composed himself, panicked tears burning in his eyes, the door had already slammed shut. His feet squeaked over the tile to an empty audience.

—

Private Military Companies don’t have ranks. There are no Sergeants, Lieutenants, Generals or Colonels. Just people. Beyond the orders you’d been hired on, there was nothing keeping you in line with König on this mission. And those orders were loose at best.

Adhere to policy and listen to the Base’s COs. Shut up and get the job done.

The Austrian and you weren’t due out for another week because of rotations. Since you’d failed to capture or kill the HVT that you were assigned, another group had picked up the tracks in the meantime. Like an oiled machine, the gears of this operation kept whirling.

Evolve, or die.

“Lieutenant!” You call to the geared-up man on the tarmac—the one heading that very same group. It had been only a few hours since the incident in the armory. You needed a distraction; blood was still running high and brain pounding for release. There were only so many times you could bruise your fists and legs on a punching bag before people started giving you nervous looks. “Need an extra hand?”

Your voice sounds strained, even to you. The man looks you over once and narrows his eyes. Nods not moments later.

“Get tired of your big friend? Okay, how fast can you be ready for me?” You feel your shoulders loosen, a relieved sigh exiting your lips.

“Three minutes.”

“...get to it then. We move in five.”

So that was how you found yourself backed into a corner five hours into the op from hell—bloody knife held tightly in your grip and mouth open in ragged pants.

“Fuck,” your vest is torn and riddled with bullets; your entire chest must be bruised by now because it surely aches like it is. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

You really are reckless, just like König had said you were. Maybe you’d just never realized it because he always seemed to watch your six. This…this was really bad. The comms were awash with screaming orders and panic, ringing out across the abandoned mining factory that exploded with light from gunfire and the sounds that accompanied it. You knew for a fact three soldiers were down; two KIA.

The Lieutenant is one of them.

Your hand snaps to the radio strapped to your chest, one eye squinted in pain at the ragged slice across your left brow line. At your feet, two heavily armed men lay dead.

“Pull back! They knew we were coming!” But your word didn’t carry weight here. Your face twists between pain and rage. König’s comment still rings in your ears as the onset of tinnitus does, as if anyone could ever love a woman like you in the first place. It wasn’t ideal to be thinking about this now—it was detrimental that you didn’t.

But König and the things he did often stained your brain. No matter how much you tried to distance yourself from that fact.

Snapping the knife in your grasp down in an arch to dispel the blood from the blade, you take a steel-laced inhale and shove off the wall. Limping, but moving. Sprained ankle. Nothing you hadn’t dealt with before.

The concrete under you is splattered with crimson viscera and you stumble over spasming bodies riddled with bullets. With a subdued shink you slip your knife into its thigh sheath, grabbing the FTac Recon strapped around your chest after slamming a fresh mag into it. With a numb calm overcoming you, you slip your forefinger into the trigger guard, poised over the easy press of the trigger itself.

The long shadows spread over you; your head illuminated by the dull sheen of the moon as you pass under a stretch of open sky to slink into the building across the empty street. Feral yells still bounce off the air and you go to them readily, purpose settling in your veins.

Pain flies to the back of your mind, displaced by adrenaline and the rabid puffs of breath that fall like grinding thunder from your lips.

You wonder what König’s thinking right now—he’d without a doubt noticed that you were gone. He’d even probably gone to your barracks room to try and apologize and found it empty. That was just how he was.

Would he be happy? You wondered. Relieved to see you out of his life? You’d both done nothing but fight, but there were moments of peace. Understanding.

Shared meals and comfortable, yet sarcastic, comments; soft glances when the other wasn’t looking. Heat in your face and obviously shown on his when shy hands brushed.

Your hold tightens on your gun, brows dripping with sweat as it dribbles down along with the blood. Gunfire flashes.

Closer now.

Shadows scream on top of a raised walkway attached to an in-mountain compound, targets with trigger fingers firing on your fellows who take cover behind crumbling walls. Pinned down. You watch, unseen, from a broken window as dust and moths collide.

Your eyes lock on the closest hostile and you raise your weapon slowly, barrel resting on the frame between shattered glass. You clock the distance and adjust accordingly; breaths falling steady.

The small insect that keeps hitting the window plays in your mind over and over—drowning out the yells; the fire.

Just a moth readily willing to smash into that barrier until it dies. You hum under your breath and rest the gun into the crook of your shoulder, cheek to stock.

Your finger slams into the trigger.

—

You stumble out of the loud infirmary with a bloody rag pressed deeply into your forehead, medical pouch under one arm. You hear rushing feet and barked orders from nurses and doctors just before the door closes, cutting off as you stake out on your own.

Limping, you reason there were others with more severe wounds than your own; as blood drips from your flooded rag, your feet take you deep into the base one broken step at a time. You’d figure it out yourself.

Plus, the silence would give you time to think. Think about König.

You just gritted your teeth and decided that was better than taking up space in the infirmary.

In times like these, the Austrian would fix your wounds for you, just as you did his. While you had your disagreements and heated fights, he’d never made it as personal as he had hours beforehand. Never made it hurt.

“Jesus,” you mutter, rubbing your other crusty hand over the mud along your chin. Everything ached and you don’t know if that’s a good or a bad thing.

Flinching along like a downed bird, you shove through into the last door into the barracks; thoughts now stuck on finding a chair to sit down on before your legs gave out. The darkness of the common area was deep—staining your eyelids as you grunt, bumping into the back of the couch.

It’s almost funny the way the lamp flicked on mere moments later.

You hiss, eyes snapping shut as the rays attack your sight, rendering you blind for a moment. The shaking hand on your dripping rag tightens before the spark of pain makes you lighten the pressure.

There’s a dark grunt just as you open your eyes back up.

“You are late.” König.

He sits in one of the chairs—sniper hood still over his head yet only clothed in a large compression shirt and casual camo pants. Like a disappointed parent, the Austrian’s arms were crossed over his chest; feet resting out and crossed at the ankles. With such a big stature the look could strike fear into anyone.

Anyone but you, that is.

König’s dark eyes rove over you, stopping immediately on the fabric you keep to your forehead. The previous, furious, tone stops and the flash of very real concern takes precedence. His hands tighten on his biceps, thighs tensing over the cushion; spine just a little bit straighter.

You watch and say nothing—dead-faced.

Your heart suddenly skips beats, stuck into the framework of the man’s eyes. König’s brows peel back and a timid stutter stays in your breast.

“...Vögelchen?” Lids blink rapidly, and before you can register anything because of your blood loss and fatigue, you’re being dragged to the couch and forced to sit down.

Strong hands encompass your shoulders and small breaths flutter in front of your face as König peels back to kneel in front of you; spying the medical pouch in your under-arm.

“What is this?” He mutters to you, vision flinching along your body but always dragging back to the bloody rag on your face. “What did you do to yourself?”

Scarred hands raise before pausing, obsidian eyes staring deeply into yours as if in frantic question. Your own gaze keeps him close, spying on his veiled fear at the sight of your blood and your disappearance. He’d heard about the mission, then, that much was upfront because of his earlier comment.

The humvee had been late arriving back. Half an hour.

“Fuck off,” you utter, shoving off the couch before you’re captured in an unyielding press again, shoved down. Your anger spikes along with your unease, “König! I don’t have the patience—”

“I’m sorry.” The fight leaves you.

Fingers squeeze your biceps, hold lightly shaking with nerves. “I did not mean it.” Obsidian pierces you, “Please, Vögelchen, I am sorry. Utterly. I speak so fast I misplace words—get far more,” words fail as you stare so intently at him, a strange feeling swirling in your gut. König’s face was going crimson again, though not from anger. His tone was deep and honest, accent becoming more whole with emotion. The hands on your skin stay. “Rude than I intend. It is not an excuse, but…”

In the horizontal oval of his hood, you spy the dots of tiny freckles; the whispers of auburn hair. That hawk nose still points violently from behind the fabric. König never finishes his sentence, just takes a large breath and looks to the side after a moment of silence.

Then he steals the medical pack from your grip and opens the zipper with firm fingers, taking out gloves and gauze. Needle and sutures. It’s all placed on the side table as the bear of an Austrian stays on his knees for you—bending and shifting as the bottom of his shirt rides up.

It’s a tense affair of touching skin; warmth and hissed curses. Gentle shushing. But you say nothing through it. Until he’s up in your face trying off stitches with forceps and a needle holder, breath making his hood lightly caress your bloodless face. His fingers are large and firm, never second-guessing or stuttering over the course of directing tools that dig a needling and thread into your flesh.

He’s warm and every motion elicits shivers. You see his form from the side of your eye; his face’s outline as the lamp light illuminates the hood’s fabric. Shadowy silhouette of König’s strong jaw that shifts with every other breath from his wide chest.

“You’re an asshole for saying that to me, y’know.” you slip your gaze away just as he snaps over. “Adrenaline or not.”

The needle pauses and a swift nod is given.

“I…I know it was. No amount of apologizing can explain how very horrible I feel. It was like I was so…so…” An annoyed grunt was leveled at himself.

“Pissed off?” You offer quietly.

“Yes! Pissed off.” Amused glances were shared, the air slowly smoothing out between the two of you. Dark eyes quickly look away from yours and König clears his throat terse-like. But softer, steadier, “I…could not bear it if I were to see you in harm and be unable to assist you. That…is why I was watching. Why I do watch you.”

Inside of you, it was like there was a pot of water on the stove, steadily boiling under the heat. Your eyes are delicately wide when the man’s hands leave your face; kneeling body still tall enough to stare into you.

“You are…” König pauses, but not to find the words. To ready himself. He takes a long breath. “You are special to me, my Vögelchen. I can not see you hurt,” a gesture to your forehead and creased eyes. As if your pain was his own. “Not like this.”

“What are you saying, König?” You whisper, face twisted with hurt and confusion. Apprehension. “You’re giving me mixed signals. We always fight with each other. I’m not saying I’m blameless, but…c’mon, now. Look at us.”

“Not…always.” He grumbled like a child, tools placed away and hands dripping blood before he slips the gloves off. They meet the side table with a tiny toss. The Austrian leans back onto his ankles, butt to heel. He begins to look at your forehead and you can practically hear his heart break. “I do not like arguing with you, you know that, yes?”

“Me neither,” you whisper, fingers fiddling as a sheen of anxiousness sets in. “You just,” you pause, “confuse me.”

König blinks in surprise, head tilting and large eyes shimmering. Your mind flashes to a curious cat and you try to explain with a burning face and fast lips.

“You say we’re partners but you never act like it,” he stares and listens. When had you both had a conversation like this before? “You make it seem like you can’t trust me to do the simplest task. I’m not,” your voice betrays you, cracking, “I’m not that useless, am I?”

He freezes, muscles going taunt.

“U-Useless? Nutzlos? No, no,” A hand comes to capture your chin and you let him move you where he wishes. Creased eyes lock on yours. “That is not right. You’re not useless to me—how could you be?” Pained brows move in, “did I make you think like this? Like I did not appreciate your skills?”

Your eyes burn, and the aches from your wounds mix with the pure fatigue in your flesh to leave your emotions running between sanity and sadness. A moment later you’re turning your head away.

König recaptures it, hands finding both sides of your cheeks. He looks shaky; desperate.

“No, please, Vögelchen, please. I need you to look at me.”

“König, I don’t—” You close your mouth before you let out the beginnings of a sob. “I can’t keep fighting with you.”

“I know, oh, I know,” his hands are so grounding it’s like you’re the inner pages of a book, and his grip the thick leather cover—leather laced with shared scars and the same that had stitched you up countless times. This push and pull had to end. “I cannot fight with you either—it tears me apart. Oh, du weißt gar nicht, wie sehr es mich schmerzt, dein wunderschönes Gesicht anzuschreien. Mit dir zu streiten bedeutet, meinen Verstand und mein Herz gleichzeitig zu brechen.” König’s thumbs run up and down your skin, still bloody with dried flakes falling to the ground. He seems not to care a bit.

“What can I do to fix this? Anything. Anything to get us to stop doing this to each other.” You stare into his eyes, both creased and glazed over.

There’s a brief moment where you wonder if anyone truly even knew you as well as König did—there was no one else that you shared such a deep connection with. Years upon years of being stuck at his side.

And someone else’s hands had never felt as good as his. They were hard and callused over but cupped your face as gently as one would cup water from a rippling stream. His eyes were stars; visible skin like porcelain, his breath raised a large and wide chest with a fast-paced heart. You could sense his throat trapping air.

König kneeled to you and bared himself.

Anything, he had said, to fix what he had said. To stop this.

There was one way you could think to stop this—it might not have been smart, certainly not, but…hmm…You gradually raised your hand raised from your lap and slipped it under the front of König’s hood.

Slowly, with all the delicateness of a glass dragonfly, your fingers strayed to the side of his neck to press into tight flesh. A rapid pulse.

The man goes to stone. It’s like you’ve stolen his nervous system. Dark eyes stay locked onto yours as you gaze back, hand dragging nails up with a light pressure near to the speed of a slug.

König whispers your name into the empty space and the oxygen seems to dry up. Warm light from the lamp cast phantoms on walls and over skin in a small moment of foreign discoveries. The Austrian swallows saliva and you feel his neck flex. You don’t answer him, just watch and feel his own hands tighten on your cheeks in warning.

But you never listen, do you? Reckless you were called. And König had been right.

You were reckless.

Your hand had now explored like a map the indents of hidden facial scars; long and short over jaw and lips. The hand that was doing this had hiked the sniper’s hood up around your wrist so that the man’s lashes were twitching as the fabric got too close to his eyes. And you watched. And so did he.

A twin pair of moths hitting a glass window, staring from opposite sides at one another until they realized the break in the frame.

“Anything?” You ask in a loose tone, barely heard above the flood in both of your ears.

König was breathing heavily but didn’t pull away. Pupils wide and body heavy to your touch. His spine briefly straightened, until he realized he had moved back slightly and immediately hunched again if only to keep your hands on him.

“I…” he grunts, “A…anything.” Fingers touch his nose, they spread under the hood to trace the bumps and marks he keeps hidden like buried treasure. Your vision takes in the otherworldly hue on his visible skin; the glaze of rapture in his eyes yet still that ingrained heat.

Your body shivers at the gravel in his accented English.

Fingers stall over his lips, hood showing you the pale being of König’s strong chin and jaw. You shift your touch to the side and find chapped lips revealed to you, a small palate scar that had healed to nothing more than a line up to his nostril.

You spare it nothing more than a glance before you look back into obsidian. Dark ether and dead galaxies devoid of stars. Swallowed in a sea of pasts and futures. You look for hesitation; for disgust.

You find none.

“You said that no one could ever love someone like me,” your head leans in, and your breath mingles together with an intimacy that had never been shared between this type of partners. König, as if broken from a spell, takes down a swift inhale of air into his stiff lungs. He stares with far back lids. Flashes of unidentified emotions. “Why did you say that?”

A moment of silence and of rabid hearts. The man’s lips twitch over yours as he answers slowly, not breaking eye contact for a moment. As if he did he’d be turned to rock. As if he’d miss something amazing from happening.

He speaks with a whispered confession.

“Because if they did—I would have to kill them. Because no other than I would be able to love you more.” Your world slows and your ears strain with the breathy words.

Face burning your lips part with shock and awe. Violent to any other, but to you this was a confession from a man that could meet you blow for blow—calm you and infuriate you all in one. Challenge you, but knew when he’d gone too far and how to properly apologize.

He’d waited in that chair for you all night, you’d realized.

For you to come back to him. His partner.

You press your lips to his and hear his pitiful sounds of gasped reassurance. Slipping your tongue into his mouth, you let saliva drip off of your chins to splatter onto bent knees and shaking thighs.

König’s arms cage you; capture your waist and draw you closer, lips breaking apart before you both share a wide-eyed look of momentary pause. There was no room to breathe; to think. Chests hit together and fingers tighten to a tendon-visible hold.

The man's growing smile is wide from where you still hold his hood up by his nose, and with a lick of his red and wet lips, he reconnects your awaiting mouths.

This time, you’re the one to gasp.

“Lass mich zeigen, wie leid es mir tut, Vögelchen.”

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hcrringtonsbat · 2 years

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𝐒𝐀𝐘 𝐈𝐓 (𝐄.𝐌.)

summary: over the course of your friendship, eddie never noticed that you didn’t swear. he took it upon himself to find a way to change that. it was pure chance that you were also screaming his name in the process. [4.7k+ words]

warnings: smut (18+ minors dni), fingering, oral (female receiving), humping, dirty talk

pairing: eddie munson x female!best friend!reader

a/n: oh. my. goodness.this is the first full-blown fic that i’ve written in a while and my first ever published smut. this is probably my favorite thing i’ve ever written & the longest. as always, i hope you enjoy and I encourage you to interact with this. i’d really appreciate it. *also, i know hellraiser comes out in 1987… just pretend it didn’t for my sake <3

part 2

“Ouch! Motherlover!” You exclaimed out of the blue, breaking the silence in the room. You shook your left hand vigorously, hoping to alleviate the pain that struck your pointer finger.

After examining the injury, you gazed up at Eddie sitting on his throne. He had a look on his face that you couldn’t quite decipher. He looked slightly concerned, hearing you cry out in pain had startled him but on the other hand, it seemed as if he could burst out laughing at any second.

“Papercut.” You explained, holding up your finger so that he could see.

A smirk appeared on his face, “I figured. Looks gnarly.” Eddie’s tone was laced with sarcasm.

The two of you were currently in the drama room at Hawkins High School. Hellfire had just been slaughtered by the Cult of Vecna and was in need of a new campaign. Everyone in the club was itching to prove to not only themselves but Eddie that they were capable of outsmarting him and beating his new labyrinth of a campaign.

You weren’t Dungeon Master but, you were his best friend and a big help when it came to brainstorming. Eddie often found that whenever the two of you were riffing off of the top of each other's heads, he came up with the best ideas. So, it wasn’t unusual that you’d stay late after school to help him.

“What?” His sarcastic response didn’t go unnoticed by you.

“Nothing.” He shrugged, still smirking. Eddie peaked at you from behind his hair to see that you weren’t buying it.

You poked his arm in the same spot where his bat tattoo was permanently etched into his skin, “C’mon. What?”

If Eddie knew you half as well as he thought he did, he should’ve guessed that you would probe, “It’s just-” He paused and chuckled to himself, “Motherlover? Really Y/N.”

“What? I always say that!”

“Yeah, exactly. You always say “motherlover” He air quoted, “I mean, what’s wrong with just saying motherfucker and moving on?”

“Nothing’s wrong with swearing. It’s just not my thing.” You shrugged as you continued to scribble away in your notebook.

Even when the two of you were harebrained freshmen, ripe for the picking, Eddie can’t recall hearing you curse. He just assumed that it was because your innocence was still lively & intact.

But as time went on and your age increased, you would stay out past your curfew, unbeknownst to your parents. Or you would indulge in smoking with Eddie at his trailer. So, it wasn’t like you were some goodie-two-shoes who got on her knees every Sunday to pray and repent for her sins.

Eddie reached across the table and closed the book you were writing in. Then, he proceeded to gently snatch it away from you and slide it across the empty table. The two of you watched as it slid off the edge and smacked the floor.

“I was using that.” It would be a lie if you said you were surprised that he’d do something like that but, that’s just who Eddie is. A man that goes to great lengths to get your undivided attention.

“I call bullshit,” Eddie began, adjusting his position in his throne so that one of his legs was thrown haphazardly across the wooden arm, “Out of all of the crazy, ridiculous, rash stunts that we’ve pulled over the course of our friendship… you draw the line at swearing?”

“I mean, Henderson curses more than you and he’s like… twelve.”

“I’m pretty sure he’s fourteen,” You corrected.

“Don’t try and change the subject, princess.” Eddie deadpanned, not breaking eye contact.

Your mind flashed away from your current conversation to a dream that you had maybe three nights ago.

Eddie’s face was burrowed between your thighs, licking up your cunt before stopping at your clit and swirling his tongue, the way that drove you crazy.

Despite everything, despite your legs wrapped around his shoulders, despite his hair covering the top half of his face, he never broke eye contact with you. Not even for a second.

“You like that, princess?” He asked you before continuing to lap at your pussy.

You were instantly transported back to where you sat. In a room with Eddie. Not in his trailer sprawled out on his bed, “What have I told you about calling me Princess?” You pointed an accusatory finger at him.

He swatted it away as quickly as you lifted it, “How ‘bout this. I’ll stop when you tell me to shut the fuck up.”

You protested, “No, I’m not doing that!”

“How about shut the hell up. That’s better, right?” Eddie continued, refusing to let up.

Despite his best efforts, you still stood your ground, “Gosh, no, Eddie!”

“Alright,” He paused. You could tell by how his eyebrows were furrowed and how he mindlessly twirled his rings that he was thinking and hadn’t given up yet.

“Telling me to stick it where the sun shines?” He proposed, “It’s a step in the right direction, huh?” Eddie smiled.

At this, you didn’t even try and protest. You just shook your head and rose from your chair, walking to the end of the table and retrieving the notebook that Eddie had so kindly flung across the room.

Returning to your seat, you opened the page you’d been working on and finished your thoughts.

A few seconds passed before Eddie realized that you were intentionally ignoring him. He scoffed, “Jesus H Christ. You’re hopeless, princess.”

You swallowed, trying so hard not to go back to the deep crevices of your mind that thought of Eddie that way. He’s your best friend. Get yourself together. You told yourself.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. We’ll get there one day.”

He used this nickname so often that it could’ve doubled as your name. But today, you couldn’t stand to have him call you anything other than Y/N. You had to change the subject or else you’d be clenching your thighs the entire drive home.

“Hey!” You whacked his hand closest to you.

“Did you ever stop to think that maybe we could’ve had the new beast for this month's campaign if you weren’t such an asshole?” Another whack, this time on his kneecap.

“One day.” He reiterated before scribbling something on a scratch sheet of paper, completely ignorant to the pool of desire he caused to form in your underwear just by simply calling you a name.

˚ · •. ° .

The entire room erupted in whoops and hollers as Frank Cotton’s dismembered body panned into the frame. Jeff stood on the edge of his loveseat while Gareth clapped at the television screen. Eddie on the other hand remained silent, focusing on the movie.

Occasionally, members of Hellfire gathered at Jeff’s house to watch a horror movie. Today, it was decided that you’d be watching Hellraiser.

This was a very different pick from your run-of-the-mill Nightmare on Elm Street or Friday the 13th. Hellraiser breached a new level of gore and Eddie was forced to step in as dungeon master and forbid the younger members of Hellfire to participate in this particular flick.

“I don’t want to be responsible for replacing your bedsheets.” He’d said when talking to Dustin, which resulted in Eddie being told off with some expletives.

Although he didn’t tell you, Eddie considered asking if you wanted to sit this one out. He remembers how nervous you looked when people started getting slaughtered left and right by Jason Voorhees. From how Gareth described it, Hellraiser made all the other movies you’d watched seem like a walk in the park.

Now, you sat next to him, squirming slightly in your seat on Jeff’s couch. Eddie turned his head to glance at you, expecting to see you looking away from the carnage on screen but, he was mistaken.

You didn’t peel away from the bloodshed. Not even for a second. He should’ve known that you’d do this. Be stubborn and stare the violence down, even if all you wanted to do was shield your eyes.

Eddie thought of a way to add fuel to the fire.

He wrapped his arm around your shoulder. As expected, you didn’t even bat an eyelash. This was something that Eddie did so often during these movies that it became second nature.

He gave you a few seconds to adjust to his arm before he inched in closer to your ear and whispered, “Are you creeped out?” Despite his devious intentions, it was a genuine question.

If Eddie got even a sense that this was starting to get too much for you, he would’ve whisked you out of there.

“Uh-uh.” You shook your head, still keeping your eyes glued to the screen.

Eddie pressed on, “Are you sure? I can tell them to turn it off… princess.” He added at the last second.

You could practically hear the smirk in his voice.

Suddenly, you became hyperaware of everything. The way Eddie’s arm was draped across your shoulder, the weight of his chest as it pressed against you, his thigh glued to yours, his breath fanning across your neck as he spoke… everything.

If this movie wasn’t going to be the death of you, he sure was.

Despite everything your body was urging you to do, you didn’t give in. You just kept a neutral look on your face and paid him no attention.

“Oh, don’t be that way,” He urged, “You’re not gonna tell me to fuck off, princess?” There was an edge to his voice.

It was no surprise that you felt wetness begin to pool in your underwear for the second time this week. Lord. If only he was aware of the things he did to me, maybe he wouldn’t do them at all.

“C’mon, Y/N. Just say one bad word, for me?” He begged. When he said this, the typical playfulness in his voice was gone, nowhere to be found.

You tore your eyes from the television, but when you looked at Eddie’s face only to see that signature Cheshire cat grin upon his face, you knew you fell for it.

All Eddie wanted was for you to give in. It wasn’t the thing he’d longed for you to do the most but, it was still something. A step in the right direction, he’d said earlier this week.

He was itching to say it again now. Instead, he opted for, “Progress, Princess. I’ll crack you soon enough.”

Just like that, Eddie turned his attention back to the movie. He left his arm draped around you but other than that, there was no indication that he’d ever interacted with you.

You gaped at him for a moment. How could he just-? Why would he-? Is he just gonna do something like that, right here, right now, and pretend like he doesn’t know the effect he has on me? You thought.

“Y/N!” A voice ripped you from your thoughts.

Gareth looked on edge, “Are you even watching? This movie cost like $15 to rent at Family Video. The least you could do is pretend you’re interested.” He scolded.

You wanted to scream. You wanted to stand on Jeff’s coffee table and yell what Eddie just did, how he riled you up only to leave you high and dry.

But what good would that do? Admitting that your best friend made you wet just by whispering in your ear?

It would just result in teasing from Jeff and Gareth– maybe even Eddie himself. You could hear him now, “Sweetheart, if I make you that hot and bothered all you have to do is use your words like a big girl, ‘kay?”

You bit your tongue, opting for the rational option. To keep watching the movie and pretending as if nothing had happened.

˚ · • . ° .

Three days later, you found yourself experiencing merciless teasing at the hands of Eddie Munson again. Well– not exactly. At least not yet but, you could feel it coming.

Even with your inhibitions low, even with a blunt laced through your fingers… you just knew.

You were currently sitting in Eddie’s bed, sharing a blunt and talking about nothing in particular while he tuned his guitar. Right now, your eyes were closed, listening to him pluck away.

You felt his bed even out and you opened your eyes and propped yourself up on your elbows, trying to see where the man was going.

He grabbed a pick that was on his desk. Your head fell back against his pillow when you realized he wasn’t going far.

As the bed dipped down, you heard a bang against the wall followed by, “Shit!” Eddie cursed.

This time, you sat all the way up, seeing Eddie grab his elbow, “I hit my funny bone.” He explained, taking another second to breathe before extending his arm in your direction, signaling for you to pass the joint.

“I think that’s enough guitar for me today.” He joked, before taking a long, deep, inhale to let the smoke enter his lungs before exhaling it all out.

“You should take a page outta my book and try not to curse.” You said, resting your head against the wall for support.

Eddie looked at you, taking another drag, “And why would I do that when it’s just so…” He searched for the right word, “Fun? Liberating?” He couldn’t decide.

“How about neither?” You challenged.

You had no idea why you started to antagonize your best friend. Maybe you just wanted to get the teasing out of the way since it’s been a little while since the last time he tried to get you to swear.

Or, maybe you were hoping it lead to somewhere else.

“You think you’re better than me, huh?” Eddie smirked, “You’ve got some superiority kink or something.”

You decided to throw him a bone, “I do have the urge to curse sometimes.”

“Oh yeah? And when is that?” He asked, interest piqued.

“When I get hurt. Like the other day in the drama room. I don’t think you realize how close I was to actually saying it.”

You extended your arm and pried the blunt from Eddie’s lips, “And stop hogging this.”

“So, you don’t wanna swear like a sailor any other time?” He inquired, not even phased that you stole his joint away from him.

Eddie decided that you could keep that one since it was almost gone anyway. He reached for his tin “lunchbox” and grabbed another pre-rolled blunt. He’d probably pinch himself later, knowing that it was supposed to be for a customer but, right now, he didn’t care.

“Not even when you’re touching yourself?” Eddie asked so nonchalantly as he fumbled with his lighter. He said it as casually as you’d ask about the weather or if someone was enjoying their meal.

If you knew he would have dropped a bombshell like that, you never would have brought it up in the first place.

“W-what?” You managed to sputter out, “Why would you even ask me something like that?”

He sighed, “Don’t tell me I struck a nerve, princess?” There he goes. With that nickname again.

Oh, you struck a nerve, alright.

“We never talk about stuff like this is all.” Your brain didn’t even know what to make out of this interaction.

“There’s no time like the present, sweetheart,” Eddie replied, staring you down, “So, what’s the answer?”

You thought about the different ways to reply. You could continue to hold out, refusing to entertain Eddie’s ideas. Or you could give in and end this cycle of desire and damp panties.

Eddie obviously got tired of waiting for you to respond and decided to throw another question into the mix, “What about when someone else touches you?”

And just when you thought things couldn’t possibly get any worse, they did.

“No.” You answered definitively.

I don’t want someone else. I want you. You thought but didn’t dare say.

“Hmm.” Eddie nodded his head at this newfound information and you let out a breath you didn’t even know you’d been holding in.

Thank God the 3rd degree was finally ove-

“So when Harrington went to town,” He started, “You weren’t itching to say anything?”

You had a brief (and I mean brief) romantic history with Steve Harrington.

During your junior year, the two of you went on one date together to the drive-in movie theater just outside of Hawkins. It was a nice experience but, you found yourself longing to be watching a different movie with Hellfire– well, Eddie.

You mentioned hanging out with Steve to Eddie once. You were shocked that he remembered it but what shocked you even more was that he assumed Steve “went to town.”

“Considering we never even got that far, no.” You admitted, thankful to put that rumor to rest, whether he’d conjured it up in his head or heard it roaming the halls.

But of course, knowing Eddie, he just had to be thorough. He asked again, just to clarify, “So Harrington never…?”

“Nope.”

Eddie took a beat, mentally taking notes. Good.

Another question popped into his mind and with him already on his second blunt of the night, he couldn’t stop himself from asking, “Has anyone ever?”

“No.”

He hummed, then took another slow drag of his blunt, making you wait in anticipation for what he was going to say next, “If it makes you feel any better, no guy at school knows anything worth a damn.”

You couldn’t hold back the scoff that passed your lips. “Right. And you do?” If Eddie could tease you, you could tease him right back.

Eddie had taken home his fair share of people after shows at The Hideout, mostly people just itching to say they’ve slept with someone in a band. He was surprised that hearing you doubt his abilities in bed stung him so much.

“As a matter of fact, I do,” He stopped, then added under his breath, “I bet I could have you screaming.”

You heard him, heard what he said… what he was alluding to. Your breath caught in your throat and you forced yourself to swallow it down. Get ahold of yourself. He’s only teasing.

Eddie didn’t intend for you to hear what he said but, would it be such a bad thing that you did?

He can’t recall the last time he looked at you as strictly his best friend. The two of you crossed borders that a typical duo wouldn’t: sleeping in each other’s beds, holding hands when a movie got a bit too scary, Eddie kissing your forehead before he left your house.

And that was just the surface level. God only knows how much the two of you had practically seeped into each other’s skin after your years of friendship.

With everything going on right now, Eddie’s inhibitions lowered, the feeling of his cock tightening in his jeans at the prospect of you two finally crossing that godforsaken line… he couldn’t stop himself.

“C’mon, princess. Don’t try and act all high and mighty now like you haven’t thought of me that way.” He started, fully expecting you to smack him on the side of the head but, you didn’t.

Eddie kept going, “Like you haven’t thought about me with my head between those pretty thighs.”

“I haven’t.” You gulped, your hand traveled up your arm and stopped at your elbow.

After knowing each other for years, it was obvious that you’d pick up on one another’s habits. Certain words that you’d coin, your favorite items of clothing… when you were lying.

The number of times you’d call your parents from Eddie’s house, claiming that the two of you were studying when in actuality you weren’t. He noticed the way you scratched your elbow while lying through your teeth.

Just like you were right now.

“Mosquito bite?” He asked, pointing out your nervous tick, “Or did you hit your funny bone too?” He smirked.

“E-Eddie,” You stuttered, “Trying to seduce me isn’t gonna get me to say a bad word.” You chuckled nervously.

“Really?” He said, unconvinced, “When have you, Y/N Y/L/N, ever backed down from a challenge?”

Suddenly, you realized how close in proximity the two of you were. For the second time in the past week, you could feel his body heat radiating from his chest.

“Y/N…” He continued in a sing-song tone, “Don’t think I didn’t notice the way you were staring at my hands while I played my guitar.”

“Were you thinking about these fingers fucking your pussy?” Eddie held up his ring-clad fingers and whispered in your ear.

“God, Eddie,” You exhaled, “Are you really taking this that far?”

This was your final attempt. It was the last time you were going to resist what your body was screaming at you to do… Let Eddie take you right here, right now, on his bed.

“Tell me to stop, Princess. Tell me to let it go and I will. Promise.” He extended his pinky finger.

You didn’t take it.

“So, is that a yes?” Eddie asked, scanning your body for any indication that you didn’t want this. That was the last thing he wanted to do, make you uncomfortable.

But with the way your chest heaved up and your thighs were pressed together, he knew.

“Mhm.” You nodded.

Eddie tutted, “Uh-uh, Sweetheart. Use your words.”

This was it. You knew once you uttered these words, your friendship with Eddie would be changed forever. It would breach uncharted territory. The thought of that should have terrified you but, it didn’t. You longed for this.

And right now, wanting his calloused fingers inside of you trumped any hesitation that could’ve formed.

“Yes.”

Smirking, Eddie moved from his seated position and climbed to the edge of the bed. He pulled your ankles with enough force so that you were lying down.

Crawling back up, Eddie hovered over you, his hair falling in your face while his hands started to unbutton your jeans, “You have no idea how badly I’ve wanted to do this, Y/N/N.”

Eddie took his sweet time. He slowly tugged down your zipper and began to peel your pants off of your body. Your hips bucked up so that he could get them past your ass and down to your ankles. He gave them a final pull before they fell onto the floor.

He returned to his position above you. Eddie maintained intense eye contact with you before cupping your clothed pussy.

“You’re so warm, Sweetheart. I bet you’re wet too, hmm?” He used his pointer finger to push your panties to the side, lightly grazing your clit in the process.

He was right. Arousal practically dripped from your pussy and right onto his bedsheets, “Fuck,” He sighed, “Is this all for me?”

“Y-yeah. All for you, Eds.” Your voice was breathy as you tried not to moan in anticipation.

He hummed approvingly before taking his hand away, letting your underwear fall right back into place.

Suddenly, his attention fell onto your neck. Eddie left a trail of kisses starting at your collar bone and kissed up to your earlobe, “Take them off for me, Princess.” He demanded.

You didn’t waste any time, using both hands to slide out of your panties. Before you could toss them aside, Eddie grabbed them from you and shoved them into his pocket, “Don’t worry, Sweetheart. I’ll give them back later.”

You felt his fingers brush the inside of your thigh, inches away from where you wanted him the most. You waited a few more seconds, trying to gauge his next move.

When his fingers kept dancing in between your thighs, you whined, “Eddie, if you’re not going to do anything-” Oh.

You felt as 3 of Eddie’s fingers slipped into your pussy. You could feel the ice-cold rings that littered his fingers brush against your inner thigh as he continued working, curling his fingers.

Eddie began to pump his fingers in and out of you, feeling your chest rise and fall. Lewd sounds and whimpers slipped past your lips when he brought his thumb to your clit and began to flick the bundle of nerves.

His cock strained against his jeans hearing you whine from underneath him, “Cat got your tongue, Princess? Don’t worry, I’ll have you screaming pretty soon.” He smirked.

Eddie increased his pace, which had your moans getting louder and louder each time his thumb circled your bud. Your eyes were snapped shut and your knuckles were white because of how hard you were gripping his bedsheets.

You felt heat begin to rise in the pit of your stomach, “I’m so close, Eds. Keep going.” You begged him.

His fingers didn’t let up as he began to slowly inch down the length of your body. Eddie used his free hand to spread your legs wider before positioning himself between them.

“You’re close, angel? Do you want to cum?” He asked.

“Mhm.” You moaned, arching your back.

“Say it.” You could feel Eddie’s breath fan across your clit.

Even in the heat of the moment, with Eddie’s fingers so furiously pounding your cunt to death, he still didn’t give up.

“Eddie. Please, just, please.” You groaned.

His fingers began to slow down. The coil that was building in your stomach began to fade away as he started to remove his fingers from your pussy.

“What are you doing?” You whimpered at the loss of contact and peered down at where Eddie was perched.

“Say it and I’ll keep going.”

Jesus. Is he really going to pull something like this? Right now out of all moments?!

Eddie could see the cogs churning in your head. He decided to make things even harder for you by placing a ginger kiss right on your clit, causing you to moan.

He’s officially won.

“Fuck! Just…” You stuttered, “Just fucking let me finish, please!” You pleaded, finally giving in after almost 2 weeks of being stubborn.

“Good girl.” He praised before hiking both of your legs up in the air and throwing them behind his shoulders.

He wasted no time, getting immediately back to work by showing your clit the most love and attention. Eddie licked a stripe up your cunt causing you to gasp.

You could feel waves of heat build-up again, followed by the coil threatening to snap as he continued to lap at your pussy.

Eddie glanced up and saw the way you were clutching his sheets for dear life. He peeled your left hand away and guided it to the back of his head. You then added your right hand into his locks without assistance, “Shit! Eddie, I’m almost there.”

You felt your orgasm approach as you began to clench around nothing and grind onto his face. The hands that were intertwined in his hair tugged on it, causing his face to angle slightly upward towards you.

As flashes of light began to cloud your vision, signaling to yourself that you finally reached your high and came all over Eddie’s sheets, you felt the bed begin to shake.

Shit, was my orgasm that powerful? You thought, highly confused.

You felt Eddie’s movements come to a stop. His head was still laid between your thighs, your fingers were still laced through his mane, pulling on it.

Holy. Shit.

You were frozen in your spot when you realized what was really happening. It wasn’t your orgasm that was so intense that caused the bed to shake, it was Eddie. Humping it. It really shouldn’t have gotten you as riled up as it did.

“Fuck, Princess. You’ve got me going feral.” He grunted, continuing to pound his mattress into oblivion.

You didn’t remove your hands from his hair as he continued to fuck his mattress. You watched, dumbfounded, and highly turned on because of this.

For almost two weeks, Eddie had been teasing you nonstop. Constantly doing things to intentionally get you turned on. You decided that it was your turn to add fuel to the fire, “Good boy.”

“Jesus. Fuck. God, I wish this mattress was you right now.” His head fell on your thigh and kissed it.

“Shit!” He swore once more, before letting out a grunt, letting you know that he had finished.

The aggressive movements came to an abrupt stop and he stood up and climbed fully into bed. He brushed away the hair that was matted to your forehead with sweat.

“That was….” Eddie sighed, flopping his head next to yours.

“Fun? Liberating?” You quoted him from earlier that night.

He scoffed, “It was, wasn’t it?”

“Fuck yeah.” You said, loud and proudly.

A grin slowly appeared on Eddie’s face. You swore, without even being provoked, “That’s my girl.” He kissed the top of your forehead.

#eddie munson #stranger things #joseph quinn #stranger things 4 #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson smut #eddie stranger things #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x female reader smut #strangerthings #stranger things imagine #jey writes #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson oneshot #Eddie Munson smut oneshot

16K notes · View notes

eli0004 · 23 days

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Some random Levi relationship HCs

Summary: Just some random lil Levi things I’ve had on my brain lately :D

Rating: 18+ [Minors DNI]

A/n: I can do a part two if anyone is interested

If you compliment him on his appearance, say you like his hair when it’s longer in the front, tell him he looks lovely in that shade of green, he will never forget that shit. He’ll start leaving his hair longer and wearing your favorite colors on him more often, because he loves knowing you’re finding him attractive.

When Levi catches you checking him out, he acts appalled, absolutely flabbergasted, how dare you objectify him like this. He’ll roll his eyes and scoff, waving you off like he can’t believe you’d be so openly perverted like this, but then you’ll spot the blush spreading over his cheeks, and if you’re lucky, you might even catch a glimpse of his lips curling up in a playful smirk as he turns away from you.

He’s not always “stoic”, he just has a very dry sense of humor. Sarcasm, deadpan jokes and teasing actually make him chuckle occasionally, and he loves when you go back and forth with him.

He doesn’t have a great social battery, but when he loves you, he wants you around regardless. Sometimes his favorite moments are sitting together in comfortable silence, and having you rake your fingers through his dark hair, or scratch his back.

I think he has a pretty normal sex drive, but sometimes he needs a lot of foreplay to get comfortable, because the second that sex starts to feel like mindless fucking rather than an expression of love, he feels unnerved and off put.

He’s such a giver, that if you give him something back he’ll be absolutely touched. Make him a bracelet? He’ll never take it off. Bring him something he forgot on his way out the door that morning? He’s thinking about putting a ring on your finger. Cook him his favorite meal? He’ll melt into a puddle of soft sappy feelings.

Honestly, he’s really just a hopeless romantic. Once upon a time he was a little boy that day-dreamt of finally being loved, being held, and doted on. Up until now, he was starting to get used to the idea of being alone, so he’ll do anything to keep you happy and content with him.

I think levi is a switch, but he leans towards submissive because, again, he loves being doted on. He likes sensual touching, thumb against his cheek, fingers gripping his thighs, running your nails down his abdomen and feeling it tense up. He fantasizes about that kind of thing. He wants your hands all over him.

He gets super turned on by possessive behavior, in and out of the bedroom. Bite him, yank on his hair, ask him who’s cock this is, he loves that shit. If you get jealous easily, he’ll roll his eyes and tell you you’re being immature, but he’s such a bad liar because his ego is soaring. He’ll be walking around with a little more confidence that day.

If you keep eye contact and tell him you love him during sex, he might bust on the spot.

In the colder months, he tends to become depressed easily. He benefits from having someone who won’t allow him to shut himself away.

Husband material, marry him immediately.

#attack on titan #aot #aot x reader #aot smut #aot headcanons #aot x y/n #levi ackerman #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman headcanons #levi ackerman smut #levi headcanons #levi x reader #levi aot #snk levi #levi attack on titan #sub levi ackerman #subby levi #captain levi

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twisted-writing · 2 months

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To the point of exhaustion (part 2)

——————————————————————

For @naroshinozaki

Who asked: Could you please do the fainting trope, but with the vicedorm leaders?

Have a nice day and take care of yourself!!!

( ↀДↀ)✧

———————————————————

POV: Third Person

Characters: Vice dorm leaders, Dire Crowley (mentioned), gender neutral!reader

Pairing: Vice dorm leaders x gender neutral!reader (separate)

Warnings: angst, mentions of being overworked, fainting, lack of sleep, Dire Crowley slander

Note: For this I’ve decided to exclude Ortho.

Word Count: 979

—————————————————————

It was yet another unbirthday party in Heartslabyul and Trey Clover, the dorm’s vice dorm leader would normally be enjoying the celebration with everyone else in the dorm but instead, he was in his bedroom cuddling with y/n.

“I’m sorry that you’re missing the unbirthday party because of me, Trey.”

“Don’t worry, there will be plenty more of them.” He assured them in a soft tone. “You just focus on getting the rest you need.”

They had confessed that they hadn’t been getting as much sleep, due to the headmaster and the way he piled more and more onto their plate and how overwhelming it was for them and how close they were to burning out.

And how all they wanted was just to sleep. Even if it was just for a few minutes.

And Trey had decided to give them that.

It was clear that the headmaster certainly wouldn’t.

“Don’t worry, Riddle assured that he’ll make sure that there’s something for us when you wake up.”

“Thank you, Trey. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

——————————————————

“…Ruggie?”

“Finally awake, sleeping beauty?”

“Yeah. What time is it?”

Ruggie checked his phone briefly for the time. “It’s four p.m.”

“You let me sleep all day?!”

“Yes. You could hardly stand. You needed the rest.”

“But what about the lessons? The assignments I missed?”

“You can borrow my notes. As for the assignments, you don’t have to worry, Crewel and Trein will let you make them up.”

“But the headmaster…”

“He had to go one day without his free therapist. The world has come to an end.” Ruggie’s voice was dripping with sarcasm. “He’ll live. I care more about you and your health and I know that you would be hungry when you woke up.” As if on cue, y/n’s stomach growled and Ruggie handed them the food he had come back with from the cafeteria. “The ghosts were more than happy to make this for you. Your favorite.”

The hyena felt his cheeks turn pink when suddenly kissed his lips. “What was that for?”

“That was thank you, for being the best boyfriend ever.”

“Yeah, well, I love you.”

“Love you more, Ruggie.”

————————————————————

“Are you feeling better, my pearl?”

“Yes, I am, Jade.” It was currently after hours in the Mostro Lounge, the smooth jazz was playing softly and with the ambiance of the Lounge, it created the perfect atmosphere for y/n to relax. Especially after the week they had, no one deserved it more than them. “Thank you.”

When his pearl had arrived at the lounge, looking quite dead on their feet, as if they would faint at any moment, Jade wasted no time in leading y/n to their favorite seat in the lounge, he had gently coaxed the reason why they were so exhausted.

The headmaster, it seemed, did not know the meaning of restraint.

Jade would not hesitate to remind him.

“Of course.” He gave y/n one of his rare smiles, not the kind of smile that was used to intimidate, but the kind that gave him a softer appearance. “I would do anything for you.”

He would let Azul deal with that.

———————————————————————

“Thanks for letting me hide out in Scarabia, Jamil, and for letting me borrow your hoodie. I just needed some peace and quiet for once, you know?”

Out of everyone, Jamil knew what it was like to feel overwhelmed and under pressure. Being the vice dorm leader of Scarabia and having to watch over Kalim was not an easy thing. “Yeah, I get it. Trust me.” At least with Kalim, he allowed Jamil some time to himself and let him do things that would let him unwind.

Unlike the headmaster.

It was why y/n had made their way to Scarabia.

And it was during one of the rare times where Scarabia wasn’t having a party so they could spend time with Jamil, at Kalim’s assurance that everything was fine, and that today was a relaxation for everyone in the dorm anyway.

And if anyone needed to relax the most, it was y/n and Jamil.

“Don’t worry. We can just be lazy and not have to worry about anything.”

————————————————————

Underneath the big tree in the woods behind Night Raven College, on a picnic blanket, y/n and Rook sat together, enjoying the breeze, the shade from the tree, and the occasional chirp from the birds as they flew overhead.

“How are you feeling, mon cher? Better?”

“Yes, I’m feeling better, Rook. Thank you. I really appreciate that you set this up for me.”

The vice dorm leader of Pomefiore kissed y/n’s hair. “Your health and safety matters most to me.”

“Vil doesn’t need you for anything?”

“Roi du Poison told me that we can take all the time we need. And I plan to spend the entire day spoiling you.”

Rook’s smile widened when y/n’s giggled reached his ears.

——————————————————————————

Father, will y/n be all right?”

In Diasmonia’s lounge, y/n slept peacefully on the couch with the fire going in the fireplace. “Of course, Silver.” His smile was tight. “They’ll be fine.”

“The headmaster overworked them too much. Do you think he knows? Or that he just doesn’t care?”

Lilia was sure that it was both. “I’ll deal with him later. Right now, I’m going to make sure that y/n recovers.”

“You really love them, father.”

“With everything that I am.”

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flynnriderishot · 2 months

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i needddd cute pt 2

cute pt.2 - m.s

a/n: i’ve been feeling really bad that i missed the original persons request by a mile 😭 so i’m gonna add that into this part lol

warnings: i couldn’t really figure out how to word it but i PROMISE matt wasn’t being creepy about following her to the bathroom‼️ he just really wanted to meet her. we don’t do that weird shit over here 🙄

also, vinnie hacker mention 🗣️ unfortunately, he has nothing to do with the story, i just needed someone to add💀

you were invited to a party that a friend of a friend was throwing.

did you know who this person was? vaguely.

in your eyes, it didn’t really matter.

what mattered was that matt sturniolo and his brothers would also be attending this party.

while you didn’t really have to go, you were a good friend and rightfully needed some time away from your social media life.

what better way to do that than to surround yourself with social media influencers? cue the sarcasm.

what made this all the more annoying to you was that it was a ‘valentines day’ party.

as if you weren’t all over the age of eighteen. you wanted to roll your eyes at the thought.

sure, the thought was cute and the idea was definitely there. but as you walked into the house, y/f/n’s hand in your own, you couldn’t help but scrunch up your face at the excessive amount of pink and red that flooded your vision.

“i guess we missed the memo?”

“no, i saved us the embarrassment of looking like we were back in third grade.” y/fn laughed out a scoff.

“i should definitely pay you more.”

while she was your friend, she also helped quite a lot with managing your channel. with reminding you of what your supporters wanted to see, to recording you anytime you needed content.

and though before she would say it was out of the kindness of her heart, you felt bad that she did so much for free. and once you started getting popular, you made quick work to pay her for all the stuff she did in the past and now she practically worked for you.

it was a win win situation. you got a best friend and a coworker all in one. it was much better than your previous partner that expected so much more for doing not nearly as much as y/f/n did.

“i definitely wouldn’t complain.”

you shared a laugh, moving your way through the crowed and to the drink table.

“i haven’t been to a party in a while, what are the odds we see a fight break out?”

a voice behind you interrupted before she could respond, “that would make this place so much more entertaining.”

your eyes widen as you froze up, trying to pinpoint where you may have heard the voice before turning around to actually see who it was.

“hi.” nick smiled at you.

“oh my god. hi.” you pulled him into a hug, pulling away to see him do the same to y/f/n, introducing himself to her as they hadn’t known one another very well.

“it’s so nice to finally meet you.”

“you’re telling me.” you stepped aside so he could lean against the wall with you two, “i’ve been wanting to say thank you in person since you’ve sent me that lip balm.”

“i can vouch.” y/f/n spoke up, “after your live together, she wouldn’t shut up about it.”

nick smiled, “i appreciate it, and i’m glad you like it. ive been wanting to meet you too, you’re like one of my favorite youtubers ever.”

“my god, shut up.” you roll your eyes, nick coping the motion.

“speaking of the live…”

“goodness.”

nick didn’t stop, “what’s this crush you have on my brother?”

“no crush, just…admiring his beauty.” you brushed off the teasing look they gave you.

“it’s definitely a crush. you can’t admire matt’s beauty without thinking nick and chris are attractive as well. they’re triplets.” y/f/n stated matter of factly.

“right.” nick agreed, “we literally have the same face.”

“nick and chris are gorgeous.”

“oh, thank you.”

you look back to see chris walking towards you guys, smile on his face. with just a simply glance to the side, you could see matt following closely behind his brother, eyes darting around him.

“oh.” your eyes widen, chris’ snort echoing in your ears as you pass your soda off to him, “i need to go to the bathroom.”

“no, you don’t.” nick laughed.

“i’ll be back!” you shouted, secretly having no intentions of returning until it was clear that matt wouldn’t be around.

“she’s nervous to meet you.” you could hear y/f/n telling matt after the middle triplet asked what was wrong.

if he was absolutely beautiful through your screen, you couldn’t imagine what he’d look like in person.

you barely managed to stop your face from warming up when you saw him in one of their podcasts episodes, how would you react if you got the chance to see him in person? last thing you wanted to do was embarrass yourself.

“hi, yn.” a voice called out, leading you to look over and smile,

“hi, vinnie.”

“you okay?” the hacker frowned at your unusually tense nature.

“i’m fine, i need the bathroom!” you called out, unaware of the blue eyes that were following your figure, also hearing your statement and making it his goal to get there before you.

“you’re going the wrong way.” vinnie laughed, pointing in the opposite direction of which you were walking.

“right, i knew that!” yoh waved off his drunken cackle, managing to make it down the hall and to the bathroom within a minute. you hoped you were lucky enough to walk in a not see some random couple doing it on the counter top.

as you opened the door, letting a sigh of relief and a short, “jesus”, you were startled when a voice spoke to you,

“take it as a compliment, you’re a lot cuter in person.”

opening your eyes in a panic, you spotted matt, arms crossed over his chest as he stood in front of the mirror.

“oh, my god.”

taglist: @hearts4chris @timmyandsturniolo @mayhem-72 @luvsturns @knowingnothingnoel @mrsmattyb

tags for this fic: @3kslav @bb-1s-blog @annamcdonalds67 @sturns333 @dracoflaco @electrobutterfly @wolfstarfate @landrysflannel @3mm4yung @strnsblog @lexxxiii-iix @patscorner @lemon-criminal

#sturniolo triplets #nick sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo imagine #chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo fluff #matt sturniolo

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greycaelum · 7 months

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Hi ! It's me again, I just wanted to add that I think you're absolutely amazing. Your writing is perfect, and out of all the stories I've read about Satoru, I feel like you have the best interpretation of him, and you do a great job of conveying that in your writing. That's why I wanted to thank you for taking us on a journey and allowing us to escape into a world with Satoru!

I also wanted to make a small request, but of course you can ignore this part if you don't feel like it! The Kaleidoscope series is by far my favorite, and I wanted to see Satoru's wife be a little jealous...he's such a simp for her, and only has eyes for her, so she never has to worry about anything, and I love that, but why not have a little turn of events with lots of fluff.

Thank you!

- Machi ⭐️

Kaleidoscope Series—Clouds and Mochi Chapters: { Territorial }

—Gojo Satoru X Wife Reader

𑁍 Genre: fluff, a lil' wifezilla moment with y/n

𑁍 WC/CW/TW: (1.1k)— champagne moments, homewrecker alert, PDA *in capital letters

𑁍 A/N: midterms put the nail to my coffin, but here's a glass of bubbly to that~🥂

Your husband without question is a fine-looking man. Too fine sometimes. But you could never count how many times girls bat lashes in his direction or even try to snag your man away with their sultry clothes almost showing their souls to him.

Your reaction?

Well, normal.

If you were a jealous woman having Satoru as your man is a big no, no. He catches too much attention for his own good. Both by males at work and girls at the sides.

But it never roused an extensive feeling of jealousy or envy in your side. Albeit after years of being with him that is. Others may call it arrogance or simply the steeled assurance between the two of you... But you've never been put in a critical position where you have the urgency of stating your claim over Satoru. They could kneel and lay down his feet but only you can touch your man.

You sip the champagne served for you at tonight's gala. It's an annual social gathering held by the prime minister for the Jujutsu clans. And the Gojo Clan being at the top of the Three Great Families of the Jujutsu society, you must attend for the formalities or whatnots.

What a bore...

Satoru's attitude must have rubbed on you for finding the opulent hall, with glitters and dazzle to be such a stifling event. Your eyes roamed around and found nothing worth noting except for the chocolate fountain Saika would've gone crazy about if she was here.

On the other hand, Satoru is crowded by both men and women. His mere height makes it hard not to spot him in the room. Not to add the newly tailored montsuki you had for him makes him eye-catching.

You had to ask him to let you sit after standing and greeting other attendees for so long. Now you're here sitting on the corner, catching your poise while passing boredom with your glass of bubbly.

Satoru is holding a glass of his extra extra sweet non-alcohol mocktail. Judging by the frequent sarcasm in his words and scrunched of his nose he will come to you and ask to go home before half an hour from now.

That was what you supposed until a younger lady came forward and started talking directly to Satoru ignoring the people around her as she laughed obnoxiously for your liking.

Call it a woman's instinct when you easily narrow to the side of your eyes as she tries to bend a little lower exposing a bit of her cleavage. Satoru didn't react much and continued talking anyway.

You don't know the girl's family background but from her flashy appearance, diamonds sparkling on her, you could surmise that she came from an influential family enough to be personally invited by the prime minister. She's too... gaudy.

It was only when she tried to offer another glass of champagne to Satoru by grabbing onto his arms and pushing the flute towards Satoru that your brow raised. She wasn't able to touch him because of Satoru's Infinity but it still counts as something uncomfortable for a lady to do with a married man.

People never really learned... It's funny seeing them try so hard, but there should be a limit to it.

Satoru's temple creased as well. But he wasn't able to do anything more when a hand grabbed the flute of the champagne being shoved toward him and a familiar sweet jasmine scent filled his nostrils. The sound of your zori heels against the marble floor broke the awkward atmosphere.

You took the flute from the surprised and confused girl and leisurely sipped the liquor before turning to whisper something to Satoru's ear but your eyes never left the girl. His Infinity dissolved the second you held on to his elbow.

"Hey Baby," Satoru hummed with a bright smile on his lips.

"She's. Annoying. Me." You punctuated the word before baring your teeth and sinking them in his enticing earlobe you only let go when you heard a subtle needy whine from your husband. An arm immediately wrapped on the back of your waist to steady you. Satoru mumbled an incoherent phrase as you hummed back in reply.

The small group was stunned and at the same time flushed at the sudden move from your side. You simply smiled and surveyed your eyes on the people, your eyes took their time to watch the young lady with a scowl on her face.

"My husband is non-alcoholic, I will take this drink for him." You downed the flute of bubbles in one go before giving the passing server the empty glass and bending a little to whisper in the young lady's ear.

There's a glint in your eyes that made everyone look away and slowly withdraw to scatter around the hall.

"There's a thin line between brave and stupid." You stood back straight and softly smiled. "Which one are you, little girl?"

She better thank whatever devil possessed you to drink a lot tonight that you're feeling a little too tipsy to argue. An arm snaked at the back of your waist whilst a hand landed on your hips to steady you.

Like a pup with its tail tucked between her legs, she turned her heel, flushed cheeks, and hunched shoulders as she walked to the other side of the banquet.

You rolled your eyes and looked for the nearest seat but a firm grip on your hips reminded you of the towering man holding you upright.

"Loved your little show~" Satoru chuckled as he tilted your dazed face higher so you could stare into his enthralling blue orbs. "My pretty, pretty Baby, so territorial over me, huh?"

You weren't able to answer back as he took your lips for a quick and sweet kiss, in the midst of the crowd, you both stood there. Him, with a victorious and satisfied smirk, and you, tipsy and in a stupor of the outward display of affection.

The crowd turned away, some gasped, some looked scandalized, and some were grinning ear to ear. Satoru and his penchant for lack of decorum is shining so brightly.

You're not teens anymore, you're both married for more or less 10 years, but damn this sweet man for never failing in drawing you in his touch. You gripped his haori. What's worse is you cannot bring your lips to protest.

Satoru sensed this and finally guided you away from the crowd, only after he kissed your temples one more time.

"My Mrs. Gojo." Satoru grinned.

Maybe you never needed to do this little stunt but for some reason this small pettiness makes your heart beat like a teenager head over heels for Satoru... What's more, is that—

That ought to teach them where he belongs.

—GreyCaelum

PLAGIARISM IS A CRIME

Check out the Masterlist for more

All rights and credits of the Jujutsu Kaisen character(s) mentioned images(s) and songs(s) used, belongs to their respective owner(s)

General/Kaleidoscope Series Taglist: @ice-icebaby @aeanya @gummy-dummy @tender-rosiey @lexiene @nevermoresworld @loml-riri @pelicanpizza @emichou-chan

#kaleidoscope series #c&mchapters #jjk married gojo fluff #married gojo fluff #married gojo satoru #gojo satoru x wife reader #husband gojo x wife reader #jjk gojo fluff #gojo fluff #gojo x reader fluff #satoru gojo x reader #gojo x reader #gojo x yn #gojo x y/n #gojo x you #jjk dad gojo satoru #gojo clan

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ajbullet · 4 months

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My thoughts on episode 1 and 2 of Percy Jackson and the Olympians: (spoilers)

- The ACCURACY of the little Percy casting was unbelievable. They look identical.

- The SARCASM 🫶🏻👌🏻

- I’ve never been able to connect with Sally Jackson as a mother-figure in the books just because of my own rocky relationship with my mom, but the way she’s played really made me believe in her character and her love for Percy. It gives PERCY’s character more grounding and their relationship really drives the show.

- Sally just sitting in the rain with Olivia Rodrigo playing. Mood.

- “You fell in love…with Jesus?”

- The friction and “betrayal” between Percy and Grover was super interesting to see and I’m really glad they touched on that more than in the books

- I’ve been pronouncing Brunner wrong. Dam.

- Sally saying goodbye to Percy, knowing she was probably going to die 😭. Percy screaming for her.

- the Minotaur fight was awesome

- “YOU DROOL WHEN YOU SLEEP” Omg I can’t believe she said it. Leah’s delivery was different than how I imagined it but I loved it. She’s so matter-of-fact

- Again, I’ve always struggled with connecting with Luke’s character just because I felt like he was a little two-dimensional in the first book and then after that, you know, he’s evil and while I understood his motivations, I just didn’t really…care? Idk but his portrayal really helped me understand the depth of his betrayal and just how heartbreaking his story really is. I already love him more than I’ve allowed myself to from the books

- “She’s my little sister” I love their relationship while it lasts. Seeing how close they are really adds to the layers of both of their characters

- I’ve also been pronouncing Thalia wrong. Double dam.

- THE BLUE CANDY. PERCY BURNING IT NOT TO TALK TO HIS DAD BUT HIS MOM. That scene broke my heart.

- Leah. As. Annabeth. I’m going to be completely honest, Ive loved Leah from everything I’ve seen about her but I was nervous just because of how precious of a character Annabeth Chase has always been to me and I didn’t know if ANYONE, not specifically Leah, could live up to those expectations but omg I love her. Her bluntness. Her facial expressions. Her voice and delivery. Her sure movements and confidence and self-assuredbess that has come from success after success and training for so long. The way she is so unashamed to admit to using Percy and only watching him to see what he could do for HER. In her short amount of screen time so far, Leah was able to add layers to this character I’ve loved for so long that I didn’t even know where there. I never wanted her to leave the screen. My only complaint is that she didn’t have more lines. She is my Annabeth Chase. She’s not from the books. She’s not from the movies. She’s her own version and she stole the show.

- Luke saying Annabeth has a plan and that Percy will know what to do, only for PERCY TO BE FLOSSING AND PEEING AND PETTING GECKOS and trying so hard not to drive himself crazy with his ADHD and having nothing to do. I genuinely laughed out loud. Might be my favorite part.

- the fight scenes are so well choreographed.

- CLARISSE. She’s too pretty. I can’t hate her. And her ELECTRIC SPEAR. When it broke and she screamed, I got chills.

- The trident.

- Annabeth KNOWING Percy was Poseidon’s before anyone else cause she’s “always 6 steps ahead”

- People already keeping such important info from Percy “for his own good”

- “You are Poseidon’s son” “No, I am Sally Jackson’s son!” Might just be my favorite line. It’s so true. She raised him. She sacrificed everything for him. She loved him and cared for him and taught him that he wasn’t broken, he was singular, a miracle. She died so that he could live.

- Sally Jackson is parenting goals

- The way Percy instantly changed his decision to go to the underworld as soon as Grover told him his mom could be saved. Their relationship is unmatched

- Walker Scobell is already pretty well known, but I have a really good feeling his popularity is going to skyrocket after this show. He is such an amazing, dedicated actor. I know exactly what he is felling 100% of the time.

Overall, I absolutely loved it. In two episodes it’s become a comfort show that I can’t wait to continue watching!!

#annabeth chase #percy and annabeth #percy jackson #percabetn #percy jackon and the olympians #percy pjo #pjo tv show #pjo series #pjo fandom #pjo disney+#pjo #pjoverse #annabeth pjo #grover underwood #percabeth #percy jackson and the olympians #percy jackson and the lightning thief

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unknownbl0ggerr · 6 months

Text

Someone kiss me!

Chandler Bing x Fem! Reader

The New Years pact doesn’t go as planned

rest in peace Matthew Perry 💕🕊️

—————————————

The New Years party wasn’t going exactly as everyone planned, everyone had brought dates completely ignoring the pact the group had made but something went wrong with their dates. You were the only one who didn’t actually have a date to bring and actually laughed at everyone when their date went wrong.

You didnt want to bring anyone, not like you had anyone to bring but even if you did you wouldnt. You were barely a party goer anyway so you weren’t expecting anything interesting. You were hoping Chandler would’ve showed up alone to give yourself at least a bit of distraction but no. He brought Janice, his horrible ex girlfriend.

You sat in the middle of Joey and Ross on the couch with Marcel on your lap. “I dont get why you just ask him y/n. It’s new years, you need someone to kiss, he needs someone to kiss, perfect match!” Joey said. Ross nodded watching Marcel jump off my lap and walk around to the other guests, “i agree.”

You shook your head, “he’s my best friend guys it would be weird, theres no way he’d want to do it anyway.” The boys rolled their eyes but you didnt notice, you had gotten up to get another drink, “she has no idea.” Joey whispers to Ross. “Clearly.” Ross whispers back leaning against the back of the couch.

Chandler was talking to some girl about something she clearly wasn’t interested in but you couldn’t hear what it was. You poured yourself a drink and heard Chandler practically yell, “please kiss me at midnight!” You turned around and looked at an annoyed, desperate chandler starting to follow the girl before giving up.

Chandler shook his head then looked up and saw you, anyone else watching him would’ve seen his eyes light up but you didn’t notice. “No luck?” You ask taking a sip of your drink. Chandler laughed, “no she actually said yes.” You laughed softly at his sarcasm, that was one of your favorite things about him.

“Oh guys we only have 2 minutes! Change the channel!” Phoebe yelled to Joey and Ross who both scrambled to get the remote. Eventually the group slowly started migrating to you and chandler. Dick Clark announced that the ball was dropping and Chandler turned towards you and the group, “and the moment of joy is upon us!” “I guess that no date thing worked out.” Joey mumbled. “Everybody looks so happy, i hate that!” Phoebe complained and you nodded agreeing with her. “Not everybody’s happy.” Monica said, “hey bobby!” We all looked at her ex who started sobbing and gesturing her away.

They all started ranting about the kiss and no one seemed to be agreeing but somehow the only thing on your mind was Chandler. “Alright somebody kiss me.” Chandler complained. Everyone started trying to get him to shush but he didn’t, he jumped up and down, “somebody kiss me it’s midnight!” You felt a nudge on your arm and looked over, Joey was gently pushing you towards him and Ross was nodding at you.

“Alright, alright, alright.” You said grabbing his face with your hand and pulling him in, kissing him. Your friends cheered and you expected Chandler to pull away but you felt his hand on your lower back and his other on your waist as he kissed you back.

“Okay, okay enough!” Joey complained and we pulled away, i turned slightly to look at Joey, “congratulations you actually got a kiss at midnight.” He said rolling his eyes, “oh and i thought i was the sarcastic one.” Chandler joked and Joey slapped his shoulder. Chandler laughed and so did the others. “So much for the pact huh?” Ross joked.

Chandlers hand was still on your lower back and it stayed like that the rest of the night, but you weren’t complaining about it.

A/n: thinking of making a part two to this. Let me know 🙈💕

#chandler bing #chandler bing x reader #joey tribbiani #monica geller #ross geller #friends #friends imagines #chandler bing imagine

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lunemai · 24 days

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•• -Mornings With You- ••

Demigod!Y/n x Luke Castellan

Summary - Waking up with Luke on your birthday in a cabin near the beach feels like a dream or at least it was going to be, until some people decided to interrupt.

Warnings - Y/n's godly parent is not specified, she/her pronouns, softness, talk of kids, kissing, no betrayal universe, teeth rotting fluff, marriage, and that's it I think.

part one - part two || can be read as a standalone. ||

•••••••••••••••••••••★•••••••••••••••••••••

The distant waves and the birds singing walking the shoreline are sounds you look forward to when waking up, this time, it was a different sound, a more annoying sound, a very familiar voice.

"I didn't even mean it like that-" Percy tries to say but is quickly interrupted by the sound of Annabeth's voice, "Yes, you did."

"Okay, you came to my house on this glorious peaceful morning to talk about your.. -marital problems?" Luke talks in between both of them. I can practically hear Annabeth's eye roll, "Of course not, we came to give your prisoner her annual 'congrats on not dying' birthday cake." right.

Everyone knows as demigods living a long and prosperous life is not guaranteed, therefore; congrats on not dying birthday cake. Though I think that's what every “normal” person gets, it's just very subtle.

“what? she’s not my prisoner.” I hear Annabeth scoff as I get up from bed and head towards the bathroom door inside mine and Luke’s room, quietly. duh.

“right.” Annabeth says, there’s a pause before Luke answers, “Right?” though he’s trying to be assertive it sounds more like a question than a statement.

there’s another pause before I hear that same voice that woke me in the first place, “So are you going to let us in or??” I hear Annabeth shove past him and Luke and head towards the kitchen where the boys also seem to follow.

since I can no longer hear their voices I finally enter the bathroom to brush my teeth and my hair, no one wants to look like a monster around Demi-gods of all people, might end up without a head.

coming out of the room I immediately hear the sound of Percy and Annabeth having a conversation about why having too much blue food coloring could ultimately be damaging.

Finally coming into view I see Luke making coffee with his back facing us and the soulmates sitting in bar stools awaiting their drinks.

Percy has a cherry muffin in front of him and Annabeth had buttery popcorn, in the morning.

“Oh hey sleepy head, I’m surprised your kidnapper lets you out of your room,” Annabeth says, Luke turns around with a coffee mug in his hand and leans against the kitchen counter while Percy simply awaits Luke’s rebuttal.

“Same, I guess I must be his favorite victim,” I say, encouraging Annabeth to jab at the fact Luke and I haven’t left our home in 2 weeks since our honeymoon.

“who’s side are you on?” Luke says with his brows furrowed. “The winning side, mine,” Annabeth answers for me.

I raise an eyebrow at Luke walking towards him, wrapping my arms around his waist once I reach him to look up at his eyes.

“Hi, baby.” He says looking down at me he places one hand on my hip, and his forehead meets mine.

“Hi handsome, you make any for me?” I say pointing at the mug in his other hand with my eyes.

he squeezes my hip his hand and nudges my nose with his, “Of course I did, you’re my favorite victim.” he meets my lips with a matching soft smile on his face, 2, 4 seconds and I hear a voice,

“Did you make any for us?” of course, it’s Percy.

sadly, Luke pulls away from the kiss to look at Percy. “You think I want you to have any more energy than you already do?”

Percy sighs in disbelief, “What energy? I’m a ball of sarcasm, not happiness.” Luke lets out a laugh and replies, “Sure Perse, there should be enough in the pot.”

Luke looks back down at me and pecks my cheek, “You want your ‘congrats on not dying cake’ or me and the beach first?”

with a soft laugh, I respond “Depends, who made it this time?” I say while turning to look at the two occupying the kitchen island.

“Me.” Annabeth says, and that’s all I need to hear, “Cake first then.” Percy shrugs and decides I have a right to say that after last year’s cake.

“I thought adding salt to things made it more flavorful or whatever, I mean they do it with chocolate milk.” even though he’s right, a whole cup of salt on a cake was not the right move.

“Right, but the point is not to aim for a salty flavor.” I have to admit, reading and following instructions will never be an easy feat for a Demi-god, dyslexia, and all that.

“That’s why you have to re-read things Percy,” Annabeth says while getting the cake out of the box.

Annabeth hands each of us a slice of red velvet cake and we all eat with glee laughter, and sarcasm since Percy and Annabeth are here.

“Okay, now that we ate and used dishes we don’t have to wash, Happy birthday prisoner, try to find an escape route soon,” Annabeth says standing up to hug me and put her dish in the sink for Luke to wash later.

“Yeah, thanks for using water in the only way I could never, Luke,” Percy says also putting his dish in the sink on top of Annabeth's.

“Don’t worry, I know I can handle water more than you, son of Poseidon,” Luke says gathering mine and his dish, to stack them atop the rest.

“Happy birthday newly kidnapped.” that didn’t sound grammatically correct, but I wouldn’t know.

“Thanks, Perse, and also thank you for not making the cake.” with a nod full of fake sympathy, Percy and Annabeth walk out the door with a last goodbye hug and a wave.

closing the cabin door, I feel arms wrap around my back, leaning against Luke I feel his chin on my shoulder.

“You know the beach will be here all day,” he says in between the kisses he’s now placing on my collarbone, all leading up towards my jawline.

“Yeah, you’re right about that one,” I say closing my eyes and enjoying the sensation of him making a path of kisses up my neck.

“so maybe, we should just go back to bed for a little while.” he finally reaches my cheek, and I open my eyes to turn my head towards his, nudging my nose against his.

“That sounds like a great plan,” I say turning around in his arms to put my hands on his chest.

“Yeah?” he says softly with a deep and passionate kiss following.

breathing heavily I manage to respond

“Yeah.”

notes: this is my first fic in sooo long!! i’m so happy to have this done, it’s 1,081 words and i’m so ducking proud of that.

Thank you sm for reading! I promise there’s many more coming.

REQUEST ARE VERY MUCH OBLIGED.

#luke castellan #luke castellan x y/n #luke castellan x you #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan x fem!reader #pjo #luke castellan fic #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson #luke castellan fluff #annabeth chase #percy and annabeth #percy and luke #luke castellan imagine

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cryingisnecessaryfanfics · 9 months

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Genshin characters and you putting lotion on their scars

Hiiii. So I have many many scars and this morning while I was putting lotion on I thought, huh wouldn't it be nice to have someone do this for me? To give such a mundane act of care... so romantic!

Anyways, not everyone has scars like me but all our favorite genshin boys and girls are fighters and that means they have to have some sort of scar!

Feel free to request more characters for a part two to this! I'll be doing a part two regardless, but if you have a great idea for a character I'll definitely incorporate it!

Characters: Diluc, Tartaglia, Kazuha, and Beidou.

part. 2

Diluc

We all know that Diluc is commonly head cannoned to have a fuck ton of scars. Bro probably doesn't do shit with them either. You'd probably catch him with the incessant itch. Dear god, that is horrible, for you non-scar havers, the itch is nonstop, and when you scratch it's painful like a rash except all burny and dry. Please help him moisturize his scars. He's gotta be in so much pain.

You've caught him with his hand under his shirt again, the rapid scratching looking frantic as he itches.

"Diluc," you murmur a hand catching his arm and stilling his movements. "Did you put on your lotion this morning?"

You watch him sigh, his scratching hand reluctantly making its way to yours instead.

"No love, I didn't have time."

"You can't not have time for your health Diluc!" You chastise him gently, though your tone holds some frustration. You're already moving to the bedroom, dragging him along and pushing him onto the bed.

"Stay." You say with a pointed finger and you move to the connected bathroom, fetching the lotion out of the cabinet.

Diluc has already taken his shirt off by the time you get back to the bedroom, resigned to his fate. You smile at him in approval and his gaze softens just a bit.

"You have to be doing this every day," you remind him and you can practically hear him rolling his eyes.

"I know." He retorts but it lacks the sarcasm and retains the hint of affection he tries to suppress.

"Are you sure? Cause you can't seem to do it properly anyways." You mumble and he huffs the slightest laugh. You can't help your heart melt every time he does it, even if it's small. You can't help your smile either, as you gather lotion on your fingertips and start to spread it onto his skin.

Diluc seems to enjoy your ministrations because he lets out a hum in contentment, eyes falling closed as you massage the lotion into his skin.

You let your hands glide along his chest, spreading across his scars as you admire and recall each one.

"Thank you, my love."

Tartaglia

I personally head cannon Ajax to have self-harm scars but I won't mention anything about it here. I think he probably has really erratic and odd scars. The abyss probably had all kinds of horrors with different ways of causing harm. But since Ajax is the type to purposely get himself into a fight he'll most certainly lose, I also think he's the type to purposely let himself get injured for the thrill of it. He would wear his scars as a sort of armor, he acts cocky about them but is actually quite shameful.

You catch his eyes lingering in the mirror just before you bathe together. He can't help but feel conflicted over the scars he's accumulated. On one hand, he feels proud that he could have survived such horrible atrocities. Gone through hell and come out the other side with battle scars and his life. On the other hand, he now has to live with permanent markings on his body, an equally permanent reminder of the past that haunts him.

“Ajax?” You murmur, a hand finding its way to his bicep, absent-mindedly tracing the scars that reside there. “Are you alright?”

Your voice snaps him out of his trance-like state and he once again puts on his cheerful facade.

“Just admiring my amazing body!” He quips and winks at you in the mirror but you frown at his masked emotions.

“Don't bullshit me, Ajax.” He all but flinches at your harsh reply. “I know you better than that, love.”

His mask falls and the man you know returns, a frown adorning his boyish features. You follow his gaze to your hand on his arm and suddenly you know. He must see the realization on your face because he speaks up before you can say anything.

“You know me better than anyone.” He sighs and his hand comes up to cover yours. “I just don't like them is all.” He doesn't need to state it outright, he knows you know what he means.

“If it means anything, I like them.” Your words are hushed and he can feel your hand leave his body as you shift away from him.

“Why’s that?” He asks as you busy yourself looking through the cabinets.

“Reminds me that you're not perfect. That you have weaknesses just like anyone else. That you're more human than you like to believe.” You say this nonchalantly like it's not the most genuine thing anyone's ever said about him. He watches you emerge from the cabinet with a bottle of lotion and a smile. You let the words sink in as you gather lotion in your hand.

“I like them because they’re a part of you. They tell the story of how you became strong and how you weren't always that way.” You can't help but hum fondly as his eyes follow your movements. How your gentle hands caress him in a way not even his mother has since he was fourteen. Your hands glide up his shoulder blades, curve around to reach his front, and touch every part he hates.

“I love them because I love you. All of you.”

Kazuha

His bandaged hand is scarred from when he grabbed his friend's vision. That shit’s gotta hurt so bad, burn scars are a pain in the ass to take care of too. Especially since they’re so sensitive to sunlight. It makes sense why he would keep his hand bandaged even after his wound has healed. Though it's gotta be so itchy under there. Please be careful when handling his hand, scars like that are painful for years after they’ve healed. (I feel like he would be hesitant to show you it, so the scenario is your first time seeing/taking care of it.)

“Please, can I help you?” You’ve asked him this more times than you can count, always pleading gently to see his scar and getting the same rejection every time. So you don't expect it when his red eyes go dark and he just barely nods.

“Okay.” He says quietly and you can only blink in shock before gathering yourself and leading him to the bathroom.

He sits on the edge of the tub and patiently waits for you to find the salve he puts on his hand. Your heart beats faster than you like at the sight of his eyes so far gone. Maybe he's disassociating? You don't bother asking as you settle down in front of him.

Your gentle hands take his bandaged one, and you look up at him to make sure it's still okay. He nods again and you continue wordlessly, deft fingers unraveling white gauze with ease. It doesn't take long for his skin to be exposed and you take in the sight of his scar.

It takes a lot to not wince or grimace, the burn has left more scar than skin. The tissue is still red and angry, the texture severely affected in odd pattern-like ways. But you manage to smile sadly at the sight, how much willpower must it take to willingly catch a burning object and hold onto it? To ignore every instinct and cling to something so painful. To say Kazuha is resolute and tenacious would be a massive understatement.

“Tell me if it hurts.” You mumble, wholly engrossed in caring for him. Your hands gather the salve in your fingers and start to gently spread it across his palm. His arm tenses up but he says nothing.

The process is short, simply letting the salve sit on top of his skin, not daring to massage it in. He seems grateful for this. It's not long before you're wrapping new gauze around his palm threading it between his fingers.

“Thank you,” he whispers when you're done, slipping down to the floor with you and hugging your waist. He buries his head in your chest and you hold him there.

“Anytime, love.”

Beidou

The scar under her eye patch, I know a lot of people think she doesn't have one but for the sake of this, imagine she does. I think she's probably less forthcoming about the eyepatch because of the scar. Do you guys remember in her hangout how she was talking about her childhood and how she chased a dog to get its food and had to fight it? I feel like the dog probably scratched her eye and left her partially blind and scarred. And that part of the hangout is one of the only times we see Beidou feeling solemn, it’s gotta be a tough memory for her.

She tells you the story the first time she lets you see it. For once, her demeanor is less than confident, no longer renowned captain of the crux, uncrowned queen of the sea, only Beidou.

It's very obviously an old scar, not very big or intense. When you see it you focus more on her actual eye, her iris is a faded pinkish-red color, the pupil distorted and uneven.

“I can still see a little bit on that side but it's all messed up and blurry, so I wear the eye patch.” She explains and you frown at the thought.

“Did it hurt?” You ask, voice quiet and tentative.

“I… don't really remember, to be honest.” Her eyes seem far away at the thought. “I just remember being so hungry. It was the only thing I could think about.”

Your eyes study her expression, one you've never seen on her before. Its sorrow, longing, and pure pain all wrapped up in one. You let your finger trail the length of the scar on her eyelid. The lotion spreads with the motion, smearing white against her pale skin. The eyepatch has left a tan line that would've been comical if not for the sad story behind it.

“Thank you for telling me,” you whisper, “and for letting me see it.”

“Of course.” She says. “I trust you.”

#genshin #genshin fanfic #genshin impact #gender neutral reader #genshin imagines #genshin fluff #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin diluc #genshin beidou #genshin tartagalia #childe x reader #childe x you #diluc x you #diluc x reader #kazuha x reader #kazuha x you #beidou x you

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scoonsalicious · 2 months

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Your Choice

Pairing: Cop!Bucky Barnes x Fem!Teacher!Reader

Summary: You're minding your own business at home one evening when local police Sergeant James "Bucky" Barnes comes knocking on your door. Someone's reported a crime being committed on your property, and the sergeant can either bring you down to the station, or get you off with a warning... it's your choice.

Warnings: Language, because I have a foul mouth, explicit smut (unprotected PIV, oral (m receiving), fingering), mentions of drug manufacturing/possession/use, little bit 'o' bondage, implied dubcon, implied infidelity, implied abuse of police authority (honestly, read the whole thing through before coming at me for warnings, okay? I promise it'll make sense), bad cop jokes/puns/innuendos. Please let me know if I missed anything.

Word Count: 4.3k

A/N: Inspired by actual events! And by that, I just mean the part where someone called the cops and told them I was cooking crack in my kitchen. Literally everything else is a figment of my imagination, alas! Special thanks to bestie @jmeelee for suggesting I take that awkward encounter and turn it into something to benefit all of mankind, and for giving me a title. The Cheesecake Factory is going to start forbidding us entry with the way we talk in there.

______________________________________________________________

You put the tea kettle on to boil before sitting down at the kitchen table to start grading your students’ papers. You’d been hoping to get through as many as possible before your husband came home from work, but with the number of corrections you were having to make on these assignments, you’d be lucky if you got a quarter of them done before then. It was disheartening. Distance learning during Covid really hadn’t done the public education system any favors and you felt like you’d been playing catch-up for years now.

When the kettle eventually boiled, you pulled yourself away from your grading to make yourself a cup of tea. You had just settled back down with your steaming mug when you heard an incessant pounding at the front door, startling you. You briefly considered not answering— you weren’t expecting anyone, and besides, who showed up unannounced at someone’s door anymore?

Serial killers, that’s who.

But the knocking continued, relentless and heavy. After a few seconds, you heard a gruff voice call “Police. Open up!”

“What the hell?” you asked yourself, putting down the tea mug and making your way through the living room to the front door.

Peering behind the curtain on the front door window, you could make out the figure of a uniformed officer standing on your front porch. He was illuminated from behind by the streetlight, leaving only his outline visible to you.

Narrowing your eyes in confusion and concern, you turned on the porch light, unlocked the door and opened it a crack. “Can I help you, officer?” you asked cautiously.

The man tipped the brim of his hat up, and you were met with a bright pair of blue eyes that glimmered with more than a hint of mischief.

“It’s actually Sergeant, ma’am,” the man said to you as he tipped his hat and offered you a wicked grin. You breathed a sigh of relief-- you knew him. Of course you did. Your small town didn’t have much in the way of local law enforcement, and James Barnes, or ‘Bucky,’ as most folks called him, was a specimen to be revered. Ridiculously handsome, tall and broad, he was built entirely of muscle as he towered over you from the doorway. He was a favorite among the local female population, often being specifically requested to provide police presence at PTO functions and Ladies’ Auxiliary events. Despite the gold ring he wore on his left hand, the women of the town were drawn to him like flies to a corpse, much to the frustration of his poor wife.

“What can I do for you, Sergeant?” you amended, with a touch of sarcasm in your voice as you offered him a smirk back, though you were still confused by his presence.

“Well, ma’am, seems like we got a call reporting suspicious activity at this address,” he drawled, leaning now on your door jam, fingers hooking in his belt loops.

“Here?” you asked, surprise coloring your tone. “Are you being serious with me right now, Bucky?”

“That’s Sergeant Barnes to you, ma’am,” he responded nonchalantly. Oh, so he was playing it like that, then? Good to know. “Got a tip that someone’s been cooking meth in your kitchen. ‘m here to check it out.”

You couldn’t help but burst out laughing. “Meth?! That’s a new one!” You’d had some of your students call in pranks on you in the past, but this was an extreme.

“Ma’am, I’m afraid meth is no laughing matter,” the sergeant said in all seriousness. The look in his eyes immediately shut down any trace of humor you felt as you stared back at him. “The manufacture of illegal drugs is a very serious crime. I’d like to come inside and take a look, if you don’t mind.”

You pursed your lips. You remembered something your husband had discussed with you, and decided you weren’t going to make this easy for him. “Do you have a warrant?” you asked defiantly.

Sergeant Barnes sighed heavily and rubbed his dark stubble with the palm of his hand. “Ma’am, I’ve had a long shift. Let’s not make this any harder than it needs to be. Now, either you can let me inside, or you can come down and answer questions at the station. It’s up to you.”

It wasn’t an option, not really. “Come on in, then,” you told him, moving aside so he could enter. He walked through the door, his meaty arm grazing against the side of your breast as he did so, and you involuntarily shuddered at the sensation. You knew he noticed when you caught him smirking at you again.

“Kitchen’s this way,” you murmured, somewhat breathlessly, as you led him back through the house to the room in question. He followed silently behind you, his footfalls heavy and sure.

Once in the kitchen, Sergeant Barnes began looking around. It was obvious you weren’t in the middle of a meth lab. You were a high school English teacher, for god’s sake! You weren’t quite sure what game the sergeant was playing at, but you had no doubt he’d make his intentions known in good time.

After glancing around, he eventually said “Well, I can see there’s no meth setup here. Guess it was a false alarm.” You shot him a glare as if to say no shit, but he walked to the cabinet holding your glassware and opened it. “Well, well, well… what do we have here?” He reached in and pulled out a bong and a container of marijuana. “Now, I know next state over might have given the go ahead for this stuff, but in this state, recreational use of the Devil’s Lettuce is still illegal, darlin’. Mighty bad look for a school teacher to have it on hand, don’t ya think?”

You cocked your hip and crossed your arms in front of your chest defiantly. “That’s my husband’s,” you told him with a roll of your eyes. “And I’m pretty sure you just conducted an illegal search and seizure there, sarge.”

He put the bong down on the counter with a heavy clink and turned to face you, his face impassive and voice stern. “Now, seems to me someone’s got a problem with authority, darlin’. I don’t appreciate you talkin’ back to an officer of the law like that. Might need to teach you some manners.”

You swallowed thickly, finally having an idea of where the sergeant was going with his little drop-in and felt a frisson run through your body that left you trembling. Honestly, you were surprised you hadn’t seen it coming. There’d been talk, after all.

“Now,” he continued as he slowly made his way across the kitchen toward you, “as I see it, we got ourselves two options here. One: you can come down with me to the station and we can book your pretty little ass on possession charges, which is gonna take hours and require a hell of a lotta paperwork.” He was standing directly in front of you now, leaving just inches between your bodies. You sucked in a breath, the nearness of him making you dizzy. “Or two, I can get you off with a warning. Still might take hours, but at least we can both have ourselves a good time. Your choice, darlin.”

You took a step back, pressing yourself against the edge of the counter in an attempt to put some space between you. “I think you mean ‘let’ me off with a warning, Sergeant Barnes,” you said, your words coming out in an exhale.

You gasped as his hand came down to cup you between your legs and gently squeeze your mound through the fabric off your jeans. He leaned down to whisper in your ear. “I meant what I said, darlin’. But you gotta prove you’re gonna be a good, respectful girl, first, so why don’t you get down on your knees and show me how you obey the law?”

Your eyes widened at his command, unsure how to proceed. Unfortunately, Sergeant Barnes was impatient– he took both his hands and put them on your shoulders, gently but firmly guiding you down until you were kneeling in front of him, the large bulge in his trousers staring you straight in the face.

“Best get to work, darlin,” he growled, brushing your hair away from your face. “It’s not gonna suck itself.”

You couldn’t believe this was actually happening as you slowly brought your shaking hands up to his waist. With trembling fingers, you unfastened his belt and unbuttoned his pants. His massive erection was straining the fabric of his gray boxer-briefs, leaving a dark wet stain where the tip rested against the cloth, evidence of his arousal already making itself known.

Moving as though afraid of spooking a scared animal, you hooked your fingers into the waistband of his briefs, tugging them down to just above his knees and setting his cock free to bounce up against his lower stomach.

God, but he was big. If the women in town had any idea that he was packing so much more than just his gun, they’d never give him a moment of peace. You traced a finger along the vein at the base of his member, trailing it up his length to the weeping red tip. Coating yourself in his pre-cum, you used his essence as lubrication as you began working him with your hand.

“Not that this doesn’t feel good, but what did I say about sucking it, darlin’?” Sergeant Barnes asked through a grunt as you pumped him.

“I’ll get to it,” you told him, a hint of irritation in your voice. He had a lot of nerve making demands of you at a time like this.

You felt his hand come and roughly grab you by the chin, jerking your head up to make you look him in the eye. “You got the right to remain silent, Sweetheart. I’m gonna be a gentleman and suggest you use it. Find another purpose for that pretty mouth of yours.” He took his hand away with a wink.

You licked your lips as your eyes took him in. Leaning your head down into him, you flattened your tongue and ran it up the underside of his cock.

“Good girl,” he moaned as your tongue circled his tip. “Keep it up. Makin’ me feel so fuckin’ good with that sassy mouth of yours.” You took him into your mouth a little bit at a time, teasing him as one hand worked his base and the other cupped his balls.

You weren't a woman who liked to be told what to do, but the dominance in his voice made you shudder, an involuntary thrill skittering down your spine. He felt intoxicating, dangerous and you had the feeling you were in way over your head.

“Mmm,” he grunted as you swirled your tongue around the swell of his head before deciding to take him in deeper. You relaxed your throat and backed off only when you felt his length bump against it.

"Jesus, darlin', where'd you learn that?" he asked breathlessly. His hands moved to cup your face as you moved rhythmically along his length, setting your own pace. He was blissfully lost in the sensation.

But then, Sergeant Barnes wasn’t one to give up control so easily, either. “Stop teasing,” he huffed out before threading his fingers through your hair and tugging lightly, a clear sign that he wanted more.

You didn’t hesitate to oblige, taking him deep in your mouth until you heard him groan in pleasure above you. His grip on your hair tightened as he took over guiding your movement, his hips bucking up to meet your mouth until he was fucking your face with abandon. The taste of him was overpowering, salty and bitter, making your cheeks flush with heat as you struggled to accommodate his size, tears running down your cheeks and drool pooling from the corners of your mouth.

"I knew you had it in you," he grunted, his voice barely a whisper now as he lost himself in the waves of pleasure you were giving him. You looked up to see his eyes closed tight, his lips parted when ragged breaths escaped his chest that was heaving like a wild beast caught in a trap.

He was close, you could tell from the way his body squirmed and the throbbing of his hardness against your tongue. There was an urgency in his ragged breathing and the racing pulse beneath his skin that echoed through your core. But he wasn’t going to finish yet. Not if Sergeant Barnes had anything to say about it.

A sudden force yanked you back by the hair, tearing your mouth away from him. You let out a surprised yelp, wiping away the excess saliva that clung to your lips.

“Upstairs,” he ordered gruffly, his eyes half-lidded and glazed with desire. He tucked himself free of your grasp and rearranged his uniform as he stepped back, giving you space to rise from your knees.

You smiled and nodded, your head hazy with desire as you passed him and led the way to the narrow back staircase tucked into the corner of the kitchen. He followed closely behind, his heavy boots echoing off the wooden floors in a steady rhythm that matched the pounding in your chest. You felt his gaze on your swaying hips with each step you climbed, a soft growl echoing from behind you that sent shivers down your spine.

You led him to your bedroom, a quaint space painted in soft hues with sheer white curtains rustling gently from the light breeze of the warm spring night. The unmade bed serving as a reminder of love you and your husband had made just that morning staring you right in the face.

“‘m afraid I’m gonna have to search you now, Sweetheart. Strip,” he ordered, his voice gruff with desire as he closed the door behind him. He didn’t bother with niceties or romance – this wasn’t about that. This was about raw, primal need.

Your trembling hands reached for the hem of your shirt and slowly pulled it over your head, revealing the delicate lace bralette underneath. His sharp intake of breath was music to your ears, encouraging you as you unbuttoned your jeans and slid them down your legs, stepping out of them daintily.

“Turn around,” he said next, and you complied without question. You heard him suck in a breath behind you as you shimmied out of your underwear, revealing the round shape of your backside to him under the dim light.

“Jesus,” he whispered, the raw desire in his voice making your heart flutter. “This is better than I ever imagined.” He walked up to you, the rough fabric of his uniform trousers brushing against your exposed skin making you whimper. His fingers traced your spine, gliding all the way down to the small of your back, causing goosebumps to break out all over your body. “Now, you remember your traffic laws, don’t ya, darlin’? You remember how stoplights work?”

You nodded, knowing instinctively he was referring to safe words– Green for go, Yellow for slow down, and Red for stop.

“Good girl,” he praised. “Put your hands behind your back.”

You complied and felt the cold metal of his cuffs clink around your wrists, locking them into place. You were now fully at his mercy.

He cupped your buttocks in both hands, kneading them gently while his lips found the nape of your neck. His warm breath sent shivers down your spine as he left a trail of kisses there. “Color?” he asked inbetween presses of his lips.

“Green, Sergeant,” you hummed. You could feel him growing harder against you, the enormous length of him pressing against your ass making you squeal and squirm in anticipation. His groan echoed in your ears as he held onto you tighter.

“Gonna need ya to spread for me, Sweetheart,” he murmured into your ear, his voice low and husky. Your heart pounded in your chest as you did what he asked, positioning yourself on the edge of the bed. His hands found their way to your thighs, pushing them apart gently until you were open and exposed to him.

He let out a low whistle behind you, his fingers tracing lightly over your intimate folds. "You're soaking wet," he murmured, sounding almost awestruck. You flushed at his words, feeling a fresh wave of desire pulse through your body at his touch.

His fingers suddenly abandoned you, only to return dripping with warm slickness. He wasted no time in teasing your entrance, slipping his finger inside you and drawing out a moan that echoed through the room.

“You like that don’t ya?” he asked, his voice alluringly low as he curled his finger inside of you. You whimpered at the sensation, trying to push back against him for more.

“Patience, Sweetheart," he whispered against your earlobe before nibbling on it lightly. He slid another finger inside you, curling and stretching in a way that had you gasping for breath. "You're so tight," he groaned out, appreciating the way your walls clenched around his digits.

“Please…” you whimpered out, the anticipation making your body shake as you pleaded for more. “Please, Sergeant. I need more.” Your legs were wobbly, and with your arms trapped behind your back, you were finding it hard to keep your balance, but you wanted more of him.

He chuckled darkly at your plea, rubbing slow circles on your clit with his thumb while his fingers continued to pump in and out of you. Each touch was expertly measured, bringing you closer and closer to the edge before pulling back, keeping you precariously balanced between pleasure and desperation.

“I’m doing this my way,” he grunted, adding a third finger and increasing his pace. You cried out, your vision blurred as the coil inside you tightened threateningly. You were so close but he wouldn’t let you fall, each moment bringing a new wave of frustration and desire.

Finally unable to take the teasing any longer, he withdrew his fingers leaving you gasping at the sudden loss.

"Get on the bed," Sergeant Barnes ordered, standing tall in front of you; his arousal painfully obvious. “Face down.” You moved to accommodate him, getting on your knees and laying your face down on the mattress, hands still pinned behind your back.

The sound of his utility belt hitting the floor filled the room, followed by the rustle of fabric as he stripped himself free of his uniform.

You squirmed on the bed, desperate for his touch but unable to see anything with your back to him. The anticipation was unbearable, each passing second feeling like an eternity as you waited for him to resume his ministrations.

He moved behind you again, his bare, warm skin against yours making you whimper in anticipation. "Breathe," he commanded simply, and you did, inhaling a shaky breath before exhaling slowly.

And then without warning he was inside you, filling you up in one quick thrust that had you screaming out, the stinging stretch quickly morphing from painful to something far sweeter. He grunted at the intrusion, pulling back slightly only to thrust back in again, setting a punishing rhythm that left you breathless.

His hands gripped your hips tightly, stopping you from moving too much as he pounded into you relentlessly from behind.

Each thrust had you crying out in wanton pleasure, your body trembling beneath him. "Sergeant Barnes," you whimpered his name like a sacred prayer, the cool metal of the handcuffs biting into your wrists as you tried to brace yourself against his forceful movements.

He didn't slow down, didn't pause, just kept moving inside you with a single-minded focus that had you spiraling. His pace was unrelenting, his stamina seemingly endless. His fingers clutched at your hips in a bruising grip, holding you steady as he continued his merciless assault on your senses.

You felt him shift slightly, changing the angle of his thrusts and hitting a spot inside of you that made stars burst behind your closed eyelids. “Please…” your plea was cut off by a gasp as he hit that same spot again, driving you closer to the edge.

But he didn’t stop there; instead he leaned over you, his broad chest pressing against your back as one hand slid underneath your bodies, finding your clit with unerring precision. He started rubbing it in tight circles, adding a whole new layer to your pleasure.

Every new thrust of his hips sent him deeper within you, each stroke of his fingers on your clit became more intense. You were a writhing mess beneath him, completely lost in the ecstasy he was giving you.

"Bucky," you cried out, forgetting to use his title this time, your voice hoarse from screaming, your body trembling on the brink of release. This wasn’t a game anymore.

"I know," he growled in your ear, his voice low and guttural. "I can feel how close you are, doll. Just let go."

And you did. The moment his lips closed around the sensitive skin of your neck, marking you as his own, the coil inside you snapped. Pleasure washed over you in waves, each one stronger than the last, pulling cries from deep within you as your orgasm tore through you.

He didn't stop his movements, continuing to thrust into you as you came around him, your cries only fueling his own desire. His fingers tightened on your hips while the other hand continued to work you through your climax, prolonging the exquisite sensation.

His pace became erratic, the rhythm breaking down as he chased his own release. With a final grunt and a whispered curse, he drove deep inside of you, his body tense as he came, filling you with his spend. His guttural moan carried through the room as he rode out his orgasm, each thrust sending little aftershocks through your sensitive body.

His grip on your hips relaxed slowly, his breathing heavy and ragged against the skin of your back. He stayed still for a moment, buried deep inside you, allowing you both to come down from your highs.

Finally, he carefully withdrew from you, leaving you feeling empty. He rolled off of you with a sigh, getting up to retrieve the handcuff key from his trouser pocket and releasing you from your bondage.

“Are you okay?” His voice was soft in the silence, as he worked to rub the feeling back into your tender wrists.

You looked up at him through your lashes and nodded, amazed and impressed at his sudden shift from commanding sergeant to tender, caring lover.

“So,” Sergeant Barnes began once he had determined there was no real damage to your wrists, “what time is your husband getting home?” You both burst into laughter as he pulled you closer to him, burying his face in your hair.

“Mmm, probably sooner than we expect,” you teased, leaning up to give him the deep kiss you’d been denied throughout the length of your little game. “That was a lot of fun.”

He chuckled and stood up, walking over to the dresser. “Yeah, it was; we should have done it sooner.” He opened the drawers, pulling out a fresh change of clothes for himself before moving to the closet to grab your robe. “Thank you for that; I really did have a long shift, and that certainly took the edge off. You were amazing, doll.” “My pleasure, obviously.” You’d been excited and intrigued when Bucky first brought up acting out his fantasy with you, but no amount of discussion could have prepared you for how much you had loved actually doing it. You raised your hands over your head, arching your back in a stretch, laughing as you watched his eyes follow the heave of your breasts as they moved upward, licking his lips. “But meth, Bucky? Really? That rumor gets out, you’re gonna get me fired.”

Bucky hummed as he grabbed some clean towels from the linen closet and brought them into the ensuite bathroom. You heard him start the shower. “You answered the door looking all sexy and I panicked,” he confessed, popping his head back into the bedroom, a sheepish grin across his face that made him look ever so boyish. You adored it. “Next time, I’ll say we got a call about you being a prostitute.”

You cackled at that, making him grin even wider. “Better not,” you warned as you got off the bed and walked over to him, wrapping your arms around his neck, “otherwise I might make you pay for it, and I don’t think you can afford me on a sergeant’s salary.”

Bucky grabbed at his heart in mock pain. “Ouch. Well, how about we clean ourselves up and use the money I saved by not paying you to go have a nice fancy dinner, instead? How does that sound? We can talk about doing your fantasy next.”

You took his hand and led him back into the bathroom and the inviting warmth of the shower. “That sounds perfect,” you told him as you moved to stand under the showerhead. You planted a kiss on his lips. “I love you, Sergeant Barnes.”

Bucky placed his hands on your waist and gave you a gentle squeeze before kissing your forehead. “I love you, too, Mrs. Barnes.”

You began to lather each other up, trying your best, yet failing miserably, to not get too frisky with one another. “Hey, Buck?” you asked after a moment, a question coming to mind that you’d been meaning to ask him.

“Yeah, doll?” He was gently scrubbing shampoo into your scalp, and it felt like heaven.

“How come you gave yourself a Southern accent?”

Bucky laughed and pulled you close, your back to his front, as he planted a kiss just behind your ear, right over the mark he had sucked into your skin. “I told you, doll. You looked so fucking sexy when you opened that door, I just panicked!”

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