#Fascination Street Sessions | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

queenimmadolla · 11 months

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𝐁𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐋𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬

(Tattoo Artist!Eddie Munson x Apprentice!Reader)

Summary: . . . After deciding you were meant for more than what life had in store for you, you gave into the siren call of the city─well a city. But when city life finally eats away at your bank account and your main source of income isn't reliable, you take on an apprenticeship at a tattoo shop where your boss is the six-foot something, tattoo covered Eddie Munson who quickly and unwisely becomes intrigued by you. Nothing romantic can come from it, lest you risk it being torn apart by your past, his lover and yourself.

Entire Work Warnings: 18+ (smut will take place in later chapters), swearing, financial problems, mentions of loss, escorts/call girls, age gap (Eddie is 36, reader is 25), financial shaming, slut shaming, implied sexual harassment, bimbo!reader (she may not be book smart but she knows the score) angst, self-sabotage.

a/n: based on my initial post and elements of Breakfast at Tiffany's. next chapters will be significantly juicer, this was just something to get us going. this is dedicated to @munsonology, happy birthday and I hope this year was a good one! and a very gratitude filled thank you to my dear friend, @kitmon, for continuing to be an an amazing beta! hope you guys like it so far ♡ (attempting the keep reading feature, fingers crossed)

word count: 5k

“They don’t bite.” “Hmn?” Came your absent-minded reply, eyes cutting from the harpy, evil in her eyes and blood soaking her talons, to the man flipping through the red binder you’d been carrying around you in the Indianapolis heat.

Sweat evaporated off your skin, giving away to goosebumps in the air conditioned shop, a much welcome relief to the borderline unbearable heatwave settling over the city streets, something that can be found in every nook and cranny. You’d been navigating your way throughout the city since before dawn broke, eager to get your fill of it while the streets were quiet and a decent temperature. It had been almost chilly this morning, your thick strapped tank top and daisy dukes—that you normally wouldn’t allow yourself to be caught dead in—leaving most of your skin exposed, with no direct sunlight to warm it. Now that the sun was out, you were on fire out there.

“The artwork.” He glanced at the framed harpy drawing along the wall, the one you’d been staring at, one of many framed depictions of gruesome and mythical looking creatures. “I don’t blame you though, that one isn’t particularly my favorite. Pretty badass, though. Heh.” “Oh,” You shook your head, the oversized shades adorning your face sliding down the bridge of your nose, “No, I’m not afraid of it. I like it. It must have taken forever though.”

You turned your attention to her again, admiring how realistic her feathers appeared. Painstakingly detailed and whoever was walking around the city with her on their body surely endured a generous amount of pain to get her.

And a large hole in their wallet.

“It took a ton of sessions, for sure. My boy did it a couple years ago.” The man, Argyle, as he’d introduced himself when you’d first walked into the shop, flipped his long black hair over his shoulder before he flipped to the next page of your portfolio. He let out a sound of appreciation as he leaned his weight on his elbow, hand resting over his mouth.

“This is good! This is really good!”

You lifted your chin to peer at the drawing he was fascinated with. Ah.

It was a drawing of the skeletal Grim Reaper, cloaked in a black robe and scythe clutched in one hand while his boney middle fingers stretched his eye socket holes down in an obvious taunt. A tongue, black and tendril like, lulled out of his mouth.

You thought it was pretty good, too. The idea for it had struck you at a party, you’d been hiding from an annoying suitor and ducked into an office room, doodling to your heart's content once you grew past your boredom.

You grinned, a feeling of giddiness beginning to bubble inside you.

“Listen, the DM’s out right now, running some errands. He should be back soon, can I hold onto this?” Argyle asked, gripping the sides of the binder and raising it as if you didn’t already know he was referring to your portfolio, “I think he’ll be pretty impressed with your stuff.” You fidgeted with your fingers, giddiness giving away to nerves once more. “Really? You think so?” Hope was something you hadn’t felt in a while; you’d been through exactly fourteen tattoo shops throughout the city, most of which you’d been rebuffed from before they so much as flipped open your portfolio, having already decided your particular aesthetic didn’t fit their image. They hadn’t verbalized as much, but you knew. You glanced down at your pink boots, already such a stark contrast to the black beams beneath your feet.

It wouldn’t be a big deal if you hadn’t made a wager with yourself, you could only go home once you’d accomplished your task of getting one of the shop owners to actually look at your work. While Argyle had made it clear he wasn’t the head honcho, he’d be passing it along.

“Yeah, man! This is some pretty legit stuff! I’ve been tatting, myself, for a couple years now, and I’m good–don’t wanna flex or nothing but I’m really good. Only it took a couple of years for me to actually get this good, you know? And I’m not even talking about on skin. You haven’t tattooed anyone before, right?” You thought back to when you had mentioned your art skill to a brief...something, he’d been intoxicated enough on expensive wine and your sangria kisses to encourage you to use the tattoo kit one of your friends had re-gifted you after her interest in the subject waned. You’d never particularly imagined yourself etching into people’s skin before, not even when she’d given you the supplies because she’d seen some of your doodles.

Thanks to her, a suit and tie you no longer spoke to, who made more money than you’ll ever see, was walking around with a secret under his briefs: a pair of shiny cherries on his left ass cheek.

It was no loss to you. Sure, he made money. Just not nearly enough for you to tolerate how aggressive he’d been with his affections as soon as he was sloshed. You’d given him the tattoo with his drunk pals cheering him on, went out to a very high standard club, then promptly ditched him the moment you were out of his sight. You hadn’t answered the door when he came pounding on it the next morning and the morning after that.

You’d originally had no intentions of using the tattoo equipment, until that encounter. It had planted a seed, an idea that may get you out of what you had to do to survive. Tattooing hadn’t been a passion, and it still wasn’t quite one but you needed money and you had talent.

“No,” You lied with a shake of your head, “I haven’t.”

“That’ll change soon,” he laughed, closing your binder as he leaned further over the glass counter. Your gaze briefly flickered to the jewelry it housed.

“You got a number we can reach you at?”

You’d scrawled the number of your landline down on the back of one of their business cards before Argyle could rethink his decision to pass your work along.

“Hopefully, we’ll see you soon!” He called out as you retreated towards the door.

God, I hope so.

The thought of a somewhat stable job that could help the pitiful state of your checking and savings account was the only thing powering you through your long walk home. You couldn’t risk a cab, that would mean you’d have no fare money for tonight, and who knows if you’d have to make a speedy exit?

You’d learned. Eventually.

Forty-five minutes later, you entered your apartment, sagging back against the door as you dropped your bag and kicked your shoes off, unconcerned as to where exactly they’d landed.

Sweat glistened over your skin, and unlike in that last tattoo shop, there was no air conditioning to cool you. You and Sid saved that for special occasions.

Instead, you opened the large window to the fire escape, obnoxious sounds of the city you called home filling the apartment.

It wasn’t much, but it was better. Next came the matter of your clothes, stuck in the most uncomfortable of ways to your flesh. Your tank top was peeled off and thrown over the couch, daisy dukes abandoned near the entryway of the small kitchen on your way to the bathroom.

A quick glance was spared behind you, taking in the state of your shared home. It was a mess and not even remotely surprising. The place was barely furnished with the essentials, all of which were secondhand: a couch, a coffee table with a sheet over it to hide the stains, one shelving unit, a rug and tapestries hung artfully on the walls for deception. They made the place look more put together than it was, but you’d love it even if it were still barren. A roof over your head in the city meant you didn’t have to return to the past you’d clawed your way out of..

The only thing worth much was the framed photo on the kitchen counter, and that was only in sentimental value. You and Sid, arms around each other’s shoulders as you sat in a booth at a shitty diner you’d tried upon first moving to the city. They’d taken your photo for being the 600th customer and tacked it to the wall.

You’d stolen it and had no regrets because you got to keep your memory and ended up getting food poisoning.

With a shrug, you entered the bathroom for a much needed scrub down and some disassociating. Your mess could wait.

─

Eddie was not in a great mood when he walked into the shop.

His jacket was clutched in a sweaty palm, rings twisting around the flesh of his fingers and his bangs were beginning to stick to his forehead, all the result of the walk from his fucking car to the shop door.

“Grumpy?” Argyle asked, amused with the clear annoyance on his face.

Eddie sneered, standing under the vent for a minute to cool down, “Triple digits. Triple fucking digits out there, man. You could shove a thermometer up the devil’s asshole and it’d be cooler than that.”

Once he’d solidified, he stalked past the front desk, threw his jacket onto the counter and picked up a stack of mail.

“Did I miss anything?” Eddie asked as he flipped through the envelopes, mostly junk.

“A couple of walk-ins. Nothing too major there, handled them myself. Simple stuff, one wanted a goldfish. Not like a detailed one, like how you’d try and draw a goldfish cracker. We did have a few who wanted a couple of advance pieces, got ‘em booked for consultations with Johnny boy and Rob.”

“Nice,” Eddie chuckled under his breath at the mental image of the goldfish tattoo, most likely an act of affection. Tattooing people who wanted to permanently carry reminders of their children was one of Eddie’s favorites to do, partially because of the sentiment but mostly because the drawings were amusing.

He’d just finished tossing out the junk mail when he reached for his jacket to hang it up properly and discovered it had been concealing something.

“What’s this?” Eddie asked as he lifted the slim red binder. Looked relatively new.

“Huh?” Argyle glanced up from the sketch he was working on, recognition flashing across his face, “Oh, yeah! We got a prospective new hire, someone dropped off their portfolio.”

Eddie rolled his eyes and heaved out a heavy sigh as his jacket was tossed aside yet again. He had nothing against other tattoo artists, but the last one he’d hired that hadn’t come from his friend group ended up nearly destroying the group.

Henry had been charming, good at his job and charismatic. Turns out, he’d also been a master manipulator and had a particularly abhorrent temper. Tensions had been high, heads were butting and fights had occurred—with a permanent reminder in the wall near the front entrance where a large hole had been punched through. Henry had to go.

Eddie wasn’t looking to repeat the situation.

“I think we’re good on artists around here–and put a reminder on the calendar for me to patch that damn crater up.”

“Well, it’s a good thing the artist isn’t a tattoo artist. Yet. I’d look at that portfolio first before making any decisions, if I were you. I think you’re gonna see the beginnings of something goooooood, and dude, you’ll be killing our fun if you fix it. Do you know how many glory hole jokes we tell?” Eddie ignored the latter half of Argyle’s statement, reluctantly flipping the portfolio open to the first page and annoyance began to associate itself with him once more.

A body, in a state of decomposition greeted him. But it wasn’t maggots or rotting flesh involved. Flowers grew out of the crevices, with moss and mushrooms over her skin. A lot of fine line work.

The next page was home to a bird-like creature with the body of a lion, a Griffin. Done in American Traditional.

A skinny, demonic looking goat with horns and legs long enough to belong to a horse, clouded eyes and wyvern wings was on the page after that. The Jersey Devil. Someone knew their Cryptids.

The portfolio contained a vast amount of drawings from horror depictions to more aesthetically pleasing visions; the hydra, skeletons, dragons, goddesses, respectable attempts at the modern Renaissance pieces, and even a couple of Barbie references, ranging in a variety of tattoo styles.

Eddie closed the portfolio and drummed his fingertips across the countertop, scowling.

That long haired doofus was right. This was beyond good work. But if they weren’t a tattoo artist, there wasn’t much Eddie could do with them. Drawing on paper is a much more different experience than skin. Mistakes can be erased on paper, the sketch done over again. Can’t do the same on flesh.

It’s intimidating.

They’d have to start off slow, like he had. Trained under a watchful eye, an expert who’d guide them with experienced hands. He was sure Jonathan and Robin would be eager to have an apprentice.

But before Eddie would even begin to entertain the idea of an apprentice in his shop, he’d have to see exactly what it was he was working with.

“Leave a number?” He asked without looking at Argyle because he knew he’d see nothing but a smug expression.

“Yup.”

“See if you can get him back in the shop tomorrow.”

“Why not today?”

“Because I have a session for the rest of the day, remember?”

“Oh, yeah! I forgot.” Argyle’s grin was sheepish as he read off the calendar. “Stacy Peterson called. Car troubles. Unable to make it to appointment with Eddie. Rescheduled. Heh. So…you also missed that.”

“I’ll strangle you later, just get him in here then.”

Argyle opened his mouth, then closed it as an expression that said I know something you don’t crossed his strong features. “Righty-O, boss. I’ll give him a call.”

You’d been lounging in the bathtub, hair up and out of the way, eyeing the grooves of the shower tile. They were a permanent taunt, stained dark no matter how hard you and Sid scrubbed and you hated the sight of them.

People with money didn't have to stare at them, able to afford to have them professionally cleaned or the shower wall—the entire bathroom renovated.

Someday, that would be you.

You sunk further into the water, toeing at the faucet when the shrill sound of the landline filled your more than humble home. The thought of simply letting it ring played in your head until you remembered the tattoo shop you’d visited last.

Hastily rising from the tub, water was splashed along the floor while you did a terrible job of drying off and ran naked the rest of the way to the living room, almost slipping as you did.

The receiver was yanked off its post, “Hello?”

“What’s up, Dudette? Argyle calling, dunno if you remember me from earlier…”

“Yeah! From the tattoo shop, right?”

“Right-O! Listen, The Dungeon Master is in and he wants to see if you can get down here to show him what you got. Possible?”

“Yeah, it’ll be no problem!” You’d have to run most of the way but street traffic around this time wasn’t that bad so you wouldn’t have to fight your way through bodies.

“Cool, cool, cool. And between you and me, this is pretty much the interview process. Good luck, dudette, and may the force be with your tattie skills. I’ll see you when you get here!”

As soon as you’d hung up, you ran to your room to get dressed. You didn’t have much of a wardrobe, but it wasn’t high on your list of priorities considering you and Sid practically shared one. Another tank top was selected—to mitigate sweating on your way to your interview—along with a gifted pink thong and matching bra. You’d snagged your Daisy Dukes from the floor on your way out, shimmied them on, grabbed your small bag and keys and headed out.

The selection of attire was a good one, the heat was still stupidly unbearable and heavy. You’d need to wash off again tonight. You’d managed to make it to the shop in under twenty-five minutes, having ignored all the looks you’d received as you hurried along the streets and the feeling of the air conditioner on your skin was a welcome one when you made your way back into the shop.

Argyle greeted you with a bright grin from his place behind the counter, throwing up his hands, “You made it! One sec.”

Then he turned his upper body to call into an area you couldn’t quite see into, “Oh, Eddie boy! Your prospect has arrived.”

You hadn’t cared to entertain ideas on what your potential boss could look like, all you were concerned about was the position and getting your foot in the door. Even if you had tried to imagine him, nothing could have prepared you for the actual sight of him when he emerged.

He was big, tall and cloaked in black, despite the heat of the city. He wore what you figured had once been a black t-shirt but was now lacking sleeves and a proper neck hem to be considered a makeshift tank. His pants were shiny leather and also tight, hugging the muscles of his thighs, and he sported a dark pair of pointed boots.

He wasn’t particularly muscular enough to be the body builder type, but it looked like he could probably pick another grown man up with ease. His skin had a light tan to it, barely anything really, just like everyone else, he obviously couldn’t escape the sun. It was littered with intricate tattoos, weaving up his arms—a few you could tell disappeared under his shirt—and his neck.

The word freak was permanently etched in black ink along his temple and over his eyebrow. Two silver balls decorated his other eyebrow.

Leaning up against the back wall like that, arms crossed to make the muscles of his arms bulge slightly and oozing confidence, he looked like the personification of some really good sex.

But he wasn’t what you were seeking out and you didn’t like to mix business with pleasure.

Eddie was caught completely off guard, trying to school his shock and keep his composure.

When he’d seen that portfolio, he was expecting someone with jagged edges, piercings galore and more than just a couple of tattoos to be behind it and standing in the entryway of his shop.

Someone who looked like their art.

You…didn’t. With your little pink cowboy boots, tank top that accentuated your figure and shorts so small, they should’ve been considered a form of underwear, you didn’t look at all similar to what Eddie was expecting. Not even if he closed his eyes.

You didn’t waste time, quickly introducing yourself as you stepped up to the front desk and Eddie pulled himself from his stupor, closing the distance to shake your palm. Smaller than his (though most were) and slightly sweaty, no doubt due to that god forsaken heat outside.

Eddie could see bits of your hair sticking to your skin, little beads of sweat prickling over your exposed collarbone and trailing down, down between your─

“Thank you for taking the time to even look at my portfolio! I really appreciate it.”

Eddie blinked hard, clearing his throat before smirking to pretend he hadn’t been drawn in by your chest.

What the fuck was wrong with him all of a sudden?

He’d had plenty of beautiful clients, he’d tattooed nice asses, tits, pubic regions, thighs, all the beautiful areas. Now all of a sudden he was acting like he’d never seen a pair of tits before.

Hell, Eddie had been thoroughly busy with a pair, held them in his hands before he came into the shop.

Professionalism, he reminded himself.

“Not a problem, what I see—saw was pretty impressive,” Nice save, Eddie, you dick. He cursed himself, “You adapt well to different styles.”

“Thanks!” You chirped, excitement filling you at the praise. It was so nice to hear positive feedback about your work instead of being sent out of a shop before they so much as opened your binder. “I like to experiment with different styles, see what it is that people like so much about them and honestly, it’s mostly because I haven’t quite found my art style just yet.”

Hence your range, you were constantly expanding with your art because you hadn’t found one style you wanted to make yours yet. Or maybe you had and just didn’t know it yet. Whatever.

Eddie and Argyle exchanged a look before he stepped back and nodded in the direction he came, “Why don’t you follow me? Show me what you can do?”

You didn’t hesitate, stepping past the front desk.

There was more artwork lining the short hall he took you down until you arrived at another room, obviously one meant for actual tattooing as there was a tattoo chair in the middle of the room.

On one of the counters, was an area already prepped for you. A tattoo gun, some ink, and some obviously fake skin that rested on top of a disposable sheet cloth, along with some gloves.

“Argyle tells me you haven’t worked on skin before.”

Sure you haven’t.

“Not a whole lot of people lining up to get tattooed by someone with no experience,” you shrugged, following him over to the counter he was leaning up against.

“You’re hanging around the wrong crowd then.” He joked and you let out a small laugh.

He had no idea how right he was.

“The first tattoos I ever got were from inexperienced people. This one,” he gestured to a Wyvern on the back of his arm, “I got my junior year of high school from a waitress at a bar I always snuck into.”

“And this one,” he yanked the tattered collar of his shirt down to expose more ink, but the one he was referring to was a spider, “I got my first senior year from someone I did…business with.”

First senior year? Eddie was proving to be an interesting character.

“But enough about me,” Eddie released his shirt, allowing it to hide the artwork depicted on his chest, “let’s get down to business.”

Before he could even explain what everything was, you dropped your purse onto the counter nearby, pulling a small box of unopened gloves from it.

“You mind?” You asked, fingers poised to rip it open.

“Go for it,” He shrugged. Gloves were gloves, so long as they were uncontaminated he didn’t mind.

You tore into them and Eddie was still somehow surprised to see they were pink. Clearly his black ones weren’t your style.

“Can I ask you a question?” You asked as you pulled the gloves on. Eddie watched you, intrigued as you finished assembling the tattoo gun without his help and opened the ink pack.

“Sure,” He mused, eyeing you skeptically. Hadn’t tattooed anyone but you were clearly familiar with it. Interesting.

“Did your tattoos hurt?”

Eddie waited until after you’d started the tattoo gun and got into working on the fake flesh. Apparently you already had an idea in mind.

“A bit of an amateur question, you don’t have one?”

“Nope.” You confirmed, paying him no mind as you leaned forward, gaze focused solely on your task, “I kind of want one but I’m not in any particular rush, you know?”

Eddie made a sound of agreement, at a brief loss of words as you arched your back, ass sticking out and he became painfully aware you were wearing a hot pink thong, the tails of it peaking out past the top of your denim shorts. He should’ve offered you a seat but you didn’t seem all that bothered with standing.

No, that was apparently his foil, because he was incredibly bothered by you standing, especially with your ass out like that; when it made his pants tighten considerably in his crotch region.

He was getting hard.

Eddie was mortified, stiffening (go figure) as he attempted to calm himself, eyes darting away from your ass to stare at one of the cabinets. Of course this had to happen to him on the day he chose to wear a pair of pants that left little to the imagination should the boy downstairs start acting up.

Don’t look. Don’t look. Don’t look.

“Hurts, depending on the area, which I’m sure you already know. The tattoos on my back and my thighs hurt pretty bad. Forearms were a bitch, but nothing I couldn’t handle. The ones on my wrists and hands were the worst, pain wise, in my opinion. Obviously it didn't stop me, but those tend to be areas with a lot of bones, veins and very little muscle, so it’s expected.”

You hummed in response and his gaze briefly flittered over to you before his cock pulsed and he tore it away again, grateful your attention wasn’t on him.

The remainder of the ‘session’ was spent in relative silence with the music playing through the speakers installed throughout the shop, keeping it from being awkward. Eddie had just managed to will his erection away when you finished, setting down the gun before you pulled your gloves off.

“What do you think?” You asked, still admiring your work and Eddie peered around you to assess it.

A wyvern, similar to the one on his arm but done in a fine line style.

He chuckled, amused with your reference and you fought valiantly with yourself not to grin. You were trying to impress him, sticking with a subject he liked enough to make it a part of him permanently, but you hadn’t imitated the style of it to keep from downright copying and to showcase your ability to adapt.

“That’s pretty good,” And it was, not a whole lot of people could get lines that perfect or seem as confident in their abilities on their first try. Still, Eddie could tell you’d have some ways to go before you were ready to be on your own, “but you can do better.”

You tried not to frown, “Oh.”

Eddie smirked and you finally turned to face him, apprehension on your face.

“Don’t look so down. After some time around here, watching us work, you’ll be ready. The apprenticeship will fly by in no time.”

“Wait—you mean—you want me?!”

“I’d be stupid not to.”

You let out a squeal and threw yourself at him, giving him a quick squeeze before your brain caught up to your body and you pulled away.

“Sorry, sorry! I’m just so excited.”

Eddie cleared his throat, shifting his body away from you and rasped out, “Argyle will have the paperwork for you to fill out.”

“Got it,” You grabbed your bag and was just about to head out of the room when Eddie called your name, “Huh?”

“Be back at the same time tomorrow. You’ll be practicing on real skin.”

“But I thought you said—”

“Me.”

Something in you bubbled with excitement and nerves.

You nodded once and then left the room to see Argyle for your paperwork.

“So?????” Argyle asked once you’d approached him, a sullen look on your face.

You couldn’t keep the act up, beaming as you practically bounced, “I’ll be seeing you around more often now!”

He whooped, extending an arm out for a high-five which you reciprocated.

“You are gonna love it here, Dudette. Just wait until you meet everyone! First, we gotta start on your employment.”

Your brows furrowed as you watched him go through a filing cabinet.

“Wait—this is paid?”

“Yeah! We’re not big on slave labor here.”

Score for you! You had a feeling you wouldn’t be clocking a ton of hours but every single penny counted, especially considering how hard of a time you had actually building a savings account.

Argyle had walked you through the paperwork, where to sign, what things meant and since the shop was getting ready to close up you’d simply just bring the completed paperwork back with you tomorrow.

The door chimed behind you and you turned to see who could be coming in at the last minute, eyes widening at the voluptuous woman before you. Her hair was long and jet black, skin pale (apparently one person in this city was capable of defying the sun) and make-up done so elegantly it reminded you of actresses from the silver screen era. Her dress was simple, black and hugged her curves exceptionally well. You could tell it was worth more than everything in your apartment combined and you’d feel bad about it if you also couldn’t tell she was older than you.

You’d have time to get there.

“Hey, Deidre.”

“Hello, Argyle.” She gave the both of you a dazzling smile as she removed her sunglasses and walked right past Argyle, down the hall you’d come from.

He didn’t even look surprised and paid her no real attention.

“We’ll see you soon?”

“Damn straight.”

Argyle let out another cheer as you walked out the door with high spirits. Not even the nasty, hot air could get you down.

You’d climbed up the stone steps until you reached the sidewalk and glanced behind you at the neon sign depicting the name of the tattoo shop you’d now be working at.

“Welcome to The Dungeon,” You mumbled to yourself with a smile.

You turned back to the sidewalk, staring down at the pathway you’d have to take before you thought better of it, sticking your fingers into your mouth to give a sharp whistle.

It caught the attention of a cab driver down the street, and you gave him your address when he’d pulled up and you’d hopped in, ready to prepare for tonight's plans. You deserved a little break, after all, you were one step closer to securing the future of your dreams.

Eddie sagged against the counter once you’d left the room, scowling down at the bulge that had reappeared in his pants when you’d hugged him.

Why his body was suddenly acting like he was a horny teenager again, he had no idea.

He wasn’t about to do anything about it, though. Not when you’d be hanging around the shop for the foreseeable future. Eddie didn’t get involved with his employees. He’d worked in a couple of shops where he’d witnessed that occur and it always ended in a mess. Not a good kind.

He busied himself with cleaning up, tossing away the supplies you’d used and storing your first piece of work. It’d be nice for you to look back at once your apprenticeship was over. When Eddie had nothing else to clean, he sighed and rubbed at his eyelids.

Platonic. Professional. God, if he couldn’t keep his dick in check, he’d be in a world of trouble. You’d be trouble.

“Need a hand?”

Eddie snapped around, relieved to see it was just Deidre. Explaining why he had a boner to anyone else wasn’t something he was keen on doing. In fact, he probably wouldn’t be telling her exactly why, either.

Taking her up on her offer, however, was something he would eagerly do.

“Are you offering yours?”

She laughed, setting her purse down on the counter where your bag had been just a few minutes ago, and walked right up to Eddie, her body pressed against his and grinding onto him as the older woman slid her arms around his shoulders.

“Mmm, not just my hand.”

All Eddie knew next was the taste of her red lipstick.

#tattoo artist!eddie munson x apprentice!reader #tattoo artist!eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #older!eddie munson #he's older than me so im counting it #eddie munson x reader angst #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #bimbo!reader #eddie munson x bimbo!reader #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x black!reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #Between the Lines

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koiiiiijiii · 3 months

Text

windbreaker characters & their possible love trope (part 1)

warnings : no in general, maybe a ooc, but its my point of view, fluff

recommend : to turn on Lana Del Ray - West Coast

୭🧷✧˚. ᵎᵎ 🎀

Dom - arranged marrige. we take into account the fact that Dom is the heir of the yakuza. His father had long dreamed of the idea of uniting the two clans to expand the business, strengthen the position, and in general he was very close with the head of another clan, you know the type of male friendship when they brag about who has the coolest car and everything like that. (for about the same reason, you and Dom have an age difference of a couple of months) In general, when you were born, your fathers did not immediately decide that this would be a planned marriage, they still wanted freedom of choice for their children, but the two old men were too fascinated when you and Dom played together in the sandbox, or you two shared toys, and overall you got along great as babies. But as the years passed, interests changed, and from about 2-3 grades you began to have a "crisis in relationships", Dom were more interested in the "boyish" things, you in turn discovered the Internet and the charms of fictional characters (real footage of all of us). Therefore, your communication has gone from about infantile sympathy to childish antipathy when boys say "eeew girls, im not interested in them" and to the complete cessation of communication over the years. Well, your fathers also almost lost hope, trying to try on two fifth graders at holiday feasts, but everything ended up making faces at each other, and Dom’s first showed middle finger and yours first obscene phrases in response to him (later you both received a cradle from your parents) but the decision had already been made, and so everyone decided to just wait.

In fact, everything happened spontaneously. As it happens, girls grow faster, and there were no exceptions with you. So since you saw each other less often, Dom did not immediately recognize you, and of course refused to admit to himself that he liked you, and he decided to shove this sympathy away. A couple more years have passed, and you again super accidentally (no) met at one of your parents' clubs. This time it was your turn not to recognize Dom. And when you realized in the morning whose house you were in, you were shocked. So it tooks you two another 1-2 years to actually accept that planned things needed to be done and the idea of marriage in the first place wasn’t that bad.

Owen - forbidden love/ rivals/ competitors. While you honestly believed that your boiling hate for each other was mutual, Owen found it quite cute and intriguing how each time you trying to compete with him and how mad you get if you lose or if he jokingly flirts with you. Of course, he found you quite an interesting opponent, but you attracted him more as a girl, although it was still difficult because of your rival teams, and as Camila once told him when she noticed how he was staring at you at another training session, where he came intentionally before the rest of the Light Cavalry participants, "This won't be good for the image of our team." Usually you see him in training center, when your team finishes training, or when you wait for Light Cavalry to finish, or on the competitions and it always ends with your threatenings to his life or his bike. Of course you didn’t mean it so serious, it was kinda like tradition - he always so nice and jokes around while you all loud and screaming at him for his flirting lines.

Usually, you two never see each other somewhere in the city or on the streets, apparently you lived in different areas and everyday affairs were too different from each other, but somehow, now, almost at 11 pm, you look at each other in surprise, standing in the park, where both of you came to practice and free your heads from burdened thoughts. Owen wanted to break the awkward silence by greeting you, but you beat him to it by sternly asking “What are you doing here?” He smiled softly and running his hand through his hair, as he replied “I came here just to clear my head before sleep, shortcake. I hadn’t any intentions to interrupt you.” And looking up at you again, he smiled so sweetly, in his usual manner. You clicked irritably and went to meet him, “Then, since you're already here, let's have a race, and the loser is looking for another park, deal?” Again, she frowned so sweetly at her eyebrows, just the very seriousness - Owen thought to himself looking down at you from his height. Like all the smartest, the idea was certainly not bad, you even thought at the moment that you were about to win, because the agreed finish was already around the corner, when suddenly Owen jumped out from behind you and did a risky trick that allowed him to get ahead. But unfortunately, either out of surprise or confusion, you lost control and collapsed almost at the finish line. Your speed was decent, and your knees, shoulders and arms had a hard time now, all bleeding. Slowly rising from the ground, you felt such resentment and at the same time anger, either at yourself or at Owen. And all such a seething feeling of resentment, because of such a small mistake, to lose at the very finish, overwhelmed you with your head, and flowed out with tears from your eyes. You sat down by your fallen bike, hugged your bleeding knees and buried your forehead in them letting yourself cry. Suddenly you felt someone stroking your head and sitting down next to you, putting his hands on your shoulders. Looking up, as you expected, you saw Owen, and shrugged your shoulders and squeal at him “Get the fuck away from me! I don’t need your pity and help!” “Hey, hey, easy shortcake, im not a monster to let girl, who is also injured, be alone in park at night.” He tried to take you by the shoulders again. “I said get away!” You clearly didn’t planned to stop crying, and Owen understood that you’ll have a tantrum in a moment, so he decided to ignore your screams and pulled you closer, already hugging you completely. Of course, you didn't appreciate this gesture, you started pounding him in the chest with your fists, shouting for him to let go, for you to try again, that this time you would definitely defeat him and in general how much you dislike him. And Owen just held you tight, and let your screams and crying be drowned out in his sweater. After a couple of minutes, you were just crying into his chest while he pulled you closer, sat you down between his legs and just gently stroked your back.

When you finally calmed down and raised your tear-stained, red eyes to him, Owen gently put his hand on your cheek and quietly asked, “Well, have you calmed down? Will you let me help you now, shortcake?” taking a confused look away from him and blushing, you said, “If anyone finds out about this, you're finished, got it?” Owen laughed loudly and pulled you closer to him, and dropping his free hand on your cheek, gently kissed you.

Harry - hate/love or sunny/grumpy. Even ignoring the fact that you’ve been in the same team, he somehow never liked you. Honestly, he didnt even know the reason. You had such a bright personality, always nice to people around and guys in team,but still defended your interests and borders when it was necessary. Harry just couldn’t stand you. In his eyes you were quite ideal, he even accepted that you were kinda powerful at cycling. But most blood boiling fact about you were that Harry knew perfectly - he had a thing for you, but he decided for himself to hide it under mask of indifference and disinterest, because come on, feelings make you weak (such a men moment)

But the other thing about you that Harry absolutely couldn’t stand - is your tears. He saw it only twice, once when it was your first year with the Light Cavalry, the team came to wish you a happy birthday right at 12 a.m., and you burst into tears from the joy and sweetness of this act of attention. And the other time was when Harry himself brought you to tears, because you chewed his brains all day. He think that sometimes you have a bad habit activated, walking around and teasing him all day, offering to compete in something, and just dripping on his brain, because you probably have a pleasure to bring him to a white heat. And when he couldn't stand it one more time, he turned sharply at you and barked - "Are you a complete idiot? I think I told you to fuck off from me, leave me alone and go fuck someone else's brains out. How many times can I tell you, I don't intend to compete with someone like you," - and Harry took care to squeeze the word "like" like poison into your mind. And fortunately for him, as he convinced himself, you stopped bothering him after that time and resorted to communicating with him only in the most necessary cases. So for the first few days he liked how you avoided him, but after a week and a half of your absence from his daily life, he began to feel sad and guilty for being harsh with you... But wasn’t it your own fault!? That's right, it was your fault. But didn't he like your attention? Wasn't he warmed by the rays of your warmth?.. Damn, all these thoughts were difficult for Harry, and he did it easier - he left training earlier, stopped by the store on the way, bought a random gift that reminded him of you, went to your house and waited for you at the entrance to the house. To say less, you were shocked when you saw him near the building were you live, but decided to act all cool and just to pass by. He didn’t let you. Harry grabbed your elbow, but you tried to pull away, he turned you around to face him and grabbed your other elbow. “Let me go, you creep!!” You could feel how tears forming in your eyes. You didn’t understand why he even came here, he supposed to be in other place, he supposed to hate you, he supposed… “For the fuck sake just shut up and take it.” He handed you a gift. You were confused and looked up at him with an obvious question “why?” in your pretty eyes. Harry clicked tongue, left your elbows and started to walk away. When you softly mumbled “Thank you” he turned around and quickly closing the distance, he awkwardly hugged you. For the first few seconds you freaked out, but gave up and hugged him back and mumbled "You idiot" in his hoodie. Harry chuckled at your comment and squeezed your back harder "At least im not a crybaby as someone". He got a reminder that you can kick his knees pretty hard.

Hwangyeon - school crush. You were quite popular girl from his class - moderately smart, kind, but not enough to take advantage of your kindness, beautiful and friendly person in general. The fact that Hwang tried to get your attention by his money flex, “cool” - as he thought - actions towards other people in school, where so obvious, as the fact that he liked you. But you weren’t impressed by his shitty personality and usually you treated him coldly or mocked him about he is trying to assert himself at the expense of others. Was he mad at you for that? No, of course, he melted like butter in a hot frying pan from every second of your attention, and bragging to his boys that you two had “conversation”.

Actually his friends, everyone around and mainly Sangho were tired of Hwang’s whinings at home and he told him what to do. So here he is, standing in doors of your class begging you to help him with his english class. Since he asked you nicely and promised not to mock students as long as you help him, you agreed to tutor him for some topics that he couldn’t understand. So with time you two became a little bit closer and you even been in his place and know Hwang’s siblings. (both of them thought that he is paying you to be his friend*) In the midst of one of these preparations Hwangyeon was whining about how he didn’t understand anything and probably won’t pass this exam. You hated the fact that he was giving up fast and easy, but luckily you knew how to motivate this guy. In a second, you grabbed his cheeks with both hands, turned his head towards you and said “Listen, we’ve been preparing for this for so long and you gonna drop everything because of small misunderstanding? I already wanted to take you out for ice cream if you wrote this test better than the guy who sits behind me at school, but since you've already given up, well, I guess i’ll have to go with him instead.” you said slowly letting his cheeks go. Hwang took your hand, to let it stay on his cheek and rise his eyes up on you and with dead serious eyes muttered “If my score will be higher than 75%, we will go for that ice cream.” You smiled at him and said that it is deal.

Spoiler : his score was 68% his friends and you laughed at him for his bragging before exam, but you still took him to that ice cream shop and kissed his cheek for a good bye.

*bonus

its been quite long preparation session for english final exam before summer weekends, so you decided to continue at Hwang’s place. it wasn’t your first time visiting his place, maybe third or fourth, so his siblings already knew you, when you enter the house. you greeted everyone, warned them that you would be preparing for the exam and went to Hwang’s room. after few hours of studying you were tired of punching and shouting at your friend so you left the room for glass of juice and in the dim light of the kitchen you met Sangho with his laptop and glass of something probably alcoholic. you stare at each other for a second and you awkwardly announced that you came for pack of juice that two of you left in fridge. Sangho mumbled something softly and turned back to his laptop, when you were about to leave the room he raised his eyes from laptop again and asked in serious voice “did he pay you?”

you froze in place you were standing and on stiff legs, turning to him. “mhmm?”

“did my brother pay you to pretend to be his friend or whatever you two are?”

“n-no? he just asked me for help, t-that’s why im here!” he grunted something like okay and went back to his laptop. when door after you closed, Aria got out from behind the sofa and held out her hand to her brother. Sangho, in turn, pulled a banknote out of his pocket and gave it to his sister without a word.

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auteurdelabre · 3 months

Text

Please, Mister Miller? (FINAL) BFD!JOel x f!Reader

Words: 6.0k

rating: 18+

warnings: Infidelity, slutty Joel, unprotected P in V, oral (F receiving), dirty talk, (including 'slut') , catching feelings.

a/n: started as a smutty one-shot and y’all wanted more! I hope you like the conclusion for these two. Unsure if I’ll do a one-off for them in the future. If not I think this is a real nice finale for these two desperate horny sluts.

masterlist here

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"It was so weird," Sarah tells you later that evening as you both finalize your packing. "Dad said he wanted to go for coffee and then he just comes out with this whole speech about how much he loves me and that he supports my choices and he trusts my decision making."

She shakes her head incredulously, a beaming smile on her face. She's sitting on the edge of her bed watching you pack.

"Wow," you say pretending to be shocked as you fold a pair of your jeans. "Did you tell him about Charlie?"

"Yeah. And he was so cool about it! Says if I'm happy then he's happy."

You feel your chest swell with affection for Joel in that moment. Because he could have ignored your suggestions, could have ratted you out. But instead he listened, he digested and he learned.

"See, I told you that your dad would be cool about it."

You look at your clothes tucked away in your suitcase, feeling a mixture of emotions. It's bittersweet to be leaving the Miller home. Not just because of Joel, but because this house is a home. Movie nights, baking, laughing. You can't remember a holiday like this one in recent memory.

Even with Conrad's family up in Vermont their holidays were more restrained, more about appearances. Here on Rancher Street everyone genuinely likes to spend time with one another. And yes, while it’s been fun fooling around with Joel you’ve enjoyed the laughter and hair braiding sessions in Sarah’s room as she tells you about Charlie or Tess offering to teach you how she makes her special peppermint squares so you can make them at home.

And as you sit beside Joel at dinner that night, marveling at the way Tess has made use of the leftover Christmas turkey you can't help but press your thigh into his with something like affection. He doesn't flinch, doesn't move away. He just continues eating and talking with Sarah and Tess seated across from you about returning to school.

"I'm not really excited to go back," she confesses. "Gonna miss everyone around here."

"You'll still have me," you joke, knowing very well that she's talking about Charlie.

"Very true," Sarah smiles. Tess launches into how much she misses Sarah around the house. Your attention drifts to the man beside you, the man who smells so fucking good.

The man who you are terrified you have real feelings for.

No. It can’t be real feelings. For fucks sake he’s just sexy and you want him. That’s all that this is. If you like him them you’re a piece of shit. He’s married. It was bad enough that you fucked him over and over. Falling for him would make you pathetic.

Very subtly under the protection of the ornate tablecloth Tess insisted on, you let your hand stray to Joel's lap. At first it's a gentle rub of your thumb along his thigh, then a pinky edging the area near his groin. You feel him begin to swell under your digit and you squirm in your seat delightedly.

At this point Joel shifts, trying to shoot you a warning look but you're ignoring him, pretending to be fascinated by what Tess has to say about the meal preparation.

"And how do you get the turkey so moist?" You ask, pretending to listen as she goes into detail about her meal while you're stroking her husband's cock through his pants.

You know why you’re doing it; it's a feeling of being territorial over Joel which is useless because he isn't yours. Joel Miller is married. He's your best friend’s dad. He's in love with his wife and nothing can change that.

You feel Joel's hand on your wrist, and you think he means to move your hand off of him. You almost hum when you feel him curving your hand to grip him around the head, tugging slowly a moment before pulling you off completely. The silent "later" implied in his actions.

///

"Let's watch a movie after dinner," Tess suggests on as the dinner plates are cleared by Joel. "All of us together."

"Sounds good," you say as Sarah agrees before looking at you. You nod in agreement as Tess goes to make the popcorn and Sarah says she has to call Charlie quick.

“Behave during this one,” Joel murmurs from behind you. You feel Joel's hand brush against your ass as you pass in front of him in the hallway, squeezing and you hold in a smile.

When everyone returns to the living room Tess flicks through the guide and you all decide on a cheesy hallmark movie to watch together. You sit next to Tess and Joel on the sofa, popcorn bowl on your lap and you watch the film and for once your thoughts aren't depraved.

You all tease Sarah for sitting too close to the TV as per usual. You laugh at the ridiculous and predictable plot. The only time Joel touches you is when he passes you a soda you requested and his forefinger drifts over yours.

"We're going to miss having you around," Tess says during one of the commercials. "We've loved having you both here."

Joel nods, his eyes on the television. You don’t let yourself look at him for too long. Instead you focus on Tess’ smiling face next to you. You give her a smile, feeling your cheeks pinking.

"Thanks. I really like it here."

Sarah flashes you a grin from her seat by the TV. You feel a strange feeling forming as you look from her to Tess. You didn't want to like the woman beside you, but you do. She's nice. She's a bit bland, but that's not a crime. You stomach twists as you think of all the kindness she’s shown you.

Guilt. It's finally arrived right on time.

The movie ends and Sarah announces she's going to bed. Tess does the same giving a stretch. Joel murmurs something about working on some work emails, pulling out his phone and tapping away.

You stand, going to follow Sarah but Joel grabs your wrist as you walk by, stopping you from sailing by him. You glance down to see him looking up at you, brow raised in question.

"We shouldn't," you whisper before extricating yourself from his warm grip. You don't look back as you head to the guest room.

///

Hours later you find yourself unable to sleep. The ache between your legs is almost as bad as the crack starting in your heart.

Joel. Joel. Joel.

It started as a casual fuck, a simple need to feel him everywhere. The connection was palpable from the start and when he'd finally given in? Eating you out on the table, fucking you in the guest room, the truck, it had been magic.

But it's not just the sex is it?

No, it's not. Thinking of a real life with Joel Miller makes your body break out in delicious shivers, prickling with desire. Imagining how it would be to fuck him without fear of being caught, to wear his ring, to cook for him, to have his arm around your waist as you go to the movies.

Fuck. You're so fucking stupid.

A glance at your phone tells you it's almost three am. You push yourself out of the bed, starting to pace around the small guest room before deciding that you need some fresh air.

The house is quiet and dark when you creep out into the hallway. You decide the garage will be a good spot to cool down without alerting the entire household and you slip into it.

"What're you doin' in here?"

You nearly jump back at the soft voice. You glance over to see a small light from the corner, hooked to a woodworking table. Joel is seated before the table, a scattering of wood and tools sat on it. He's looking at you with surprise.

"I'm sorry," you stammer. "I didn't think anyone would be in here."

"S' alright," Joel says, tilting his head inviting you to stay. You close the door behind you before shuffling over to where he sits at his workbench.

"What are you doing?"

"Wood carving," he tells you. "Relaxes me."

You remember when you’d noticed it earlier, the collection of tools and small figures scattered across the top. Your eyes don’t rest there long, they quickly move to Joel’s handsome face.

"Why are you carving at three in the morning?"

"Probably the same reason you're up wanderin' the house."

His dark eyes capture yours and you feel your body responding in kind. Your nipples tighten under your nightdress. Joel's gaze dips to them before he's forcing his attention back to the table.

You watch him sweep away the wood shavings, tidying up the area. It feels calm to watch him do this chore and not for the first time you muse that you would love a life watching Joel do domestic tasks.

"S' funny, after the first time I thought you were a fucking demon sent to ruin my life," Joel says quietly with a smirk, twisting the carving tool between his fingertips before placing it in the drawer. "Now I realize s'the opposite. You got me and Tess back on track, you got me and Sarah really talkin' and you made me feel..."

He trails off, looking shy until you gently nudge him with your shoulder, brows raised.

"Feel what?"

"You made me feel sexy again," he says unable to look at you as he does. The corner of your mouth hooks up into a grin.

"You really didn't think you were sexy, Joel?"

"I mean, I know I'm not awful to look at," Joel says chuckling embarrassedly. "Just... Ya know. You get older; feel like your best days are behind you..."

"Not the case for you, I promise."

Now Joel allows himself to look at you, his throat bobbing. A look comes into his eyes that softens around the edges.

"You are a special girl, you know."

"Yeah yeah," you say rolling your eyes and flushing with embarrassment. You're not familiar with praise like this; earnest and gentle and not whispered huskily as he comes inside you.

You go to head back to the guest room but Joel's hand reaches out and holds you by the hip. You prepare yourself for him to push you to your knees but instead he urges you lean back against the workbench, your body tilted back between his legs.

You breathe heavily, feeling his endless eyes studying your face. His head moves forward and you feel his soft mouth kiss the side of your neck. You whisper a sigh at the delicate sensation. Joel's hands slide under your nightdress, coming to curl around the hem of your panties.

You think of Tess and how kind she's been to you and a new surge of guilt overwhelms you. You pull back, immediately hating the feeling of being out of his orbit but knowing you shouldn’t keep going.

"Joel maybe we shouldn't-"

"Don't start pretending you don't want it now," Joel murmurs up at you. "S'too late for that and we both know it. Get these off for me."

You know he's right. You allow him to pull your panties down over your legs before stepping out of them. Joel shoves them into the pocket of his sweatpants. Your face heats up as Joel's pushes your nightdress up until he sees the shine of your sex already glossy on your inner thighs.

"Show me the rest."

You bring up your nightdress, bunching it under your chin, showing him your tits and smiling when he groans softly.

His head dips forward again, mouth coming to press a delicate kiss against your sternum. You feel your breath leave you when his hands slide up and come to cup your breasts before squeezing and kneading.

"Beautiful girl."

You let out a soft whine until Joel's eyes narrow on yours. He brings his mouth to your cheek.

"Gotta be quiet," Joel whispers huskily against your ear. "Everyone's asleep. Can you be quiet for me?"

You nod emphatically, urging his mouth to your breast, hand at the base of his skull, tangled in his hair. He smirks up at you before his mouth moves to your nipple, eyes closing as his teeth begin to worry the straining nub. You swallow your moan at the electric shocks that zap through you. He licks and sucks, working you up before pulling back.

"Can't wait any more," Joel whispers.

Then Joel is on his knees, kissing down your abdomen, your hips as you quiver under his touch. His hands hold you in place as he presses lust fueled kisses down your body, invisible marks that claim you. Then he settles there, kissing just below your navel.

"Wanna thank you for all you did for me," Joel rumbles. You hold in a whimper, allowing Joel to take your right leg and shift it over his shoulder, opening you to him. You watch as he slowly licks a stripe up the center of your cunt, eyes on you the entire time.

Fuck.

Your hands grip the edge of the table, eyes shuttering. Joel smirks, pleased with your reaction. His hands go over your ass, skimming there and tilting you so that his lips can graze against your labia more easily.

"So pretty," he croons, licking gently, his eyes falling shut as he savors the moment. "’N so fucking sweet."

He kisses your inner thigh so slowly and reverently it makes tears come to your eyes but you blink them back when he gazes back up at you.

"You're gonna be a good girl for me aren't you?"

His full lips curl into a smile when you whimper a soft yes and then his mouth descends over your cunt, tongue piercing you. You groan in quiet harmony with his hands tightening around your hips. He flicks his tongue against your clit, growling softly when you whimper at the sensation.

"Shhhh," he hushes.

You cover your mouth with your hand, hips undulating against Joel's greedy mouth. He feels so good, so hungry, so desperate for you. It makes your body tingle all over as his mouth works over your clit, sucking gently as you buck against him.

His fingertips dimple your ass, pulling your cunt now firmly against his mouth. He presses his lips there giving sloppy open mouthed kisses as your spine curls. His nose nudges your clit, rubbing as his tongue laps and flicks.

He works at you longer and your fingers twist in his curls. You force yourself to memorize everything about the moment. The way his eyes are shut lightly as he moans into your cunt, the way his hair is so soft under your fingers, his body so warm against you.

You soon edge your orgasm, feeling that fire being stoked higher and bigger. It makes your thighs tremble against Joel's ears and he smiles against your pussy.

"Joel," you whisper in a broken whisper. "I'm getting close."

"S'not my name," Joel says muffled from between your thighs.

"Gonna come, M-mister Miller."

"Mhmm," he offers between your legs as his eyes dart back to your face, his mouth still on your pussy. "Show Daddy how his good girl comes for him."

Your body tightens and Joel hums softly in approval as you come for him, your heart thundering. You feel your copious arousal being lapped up by the man between your legs who sighs as if this is all he's ever wanted in life.

You swallow the loud cry that has been building within your lungs and cover your mouth tightly. So tightly that when you remove them moments later their imprint remains like a ghostly kiss.

"Beautiful," Joel whispers, pressing his mouth to your cheek as he stands. "You did so fucking good for me."

The sound of his praise lifts you everywhere. You feel lighter, you feel joyful. You want so much to please him, to feel more of him, to make him feel as good as you feel.

"You next," you whisper huskily, kissing his earlobe.

"Don't need to," Joel says, shivering as your tongue comes to trace the flesh of his lobe. You hear him trying to muffle a groan deep in his throat. "Just wanted to make you feel good."

Your hand slides down the front of his sweatpants, hand gripping his already hard length and smiling as he curls into you. You start to stroke him through the fabric, your free hand on the back of his neck, twisting in his curls.

"We have to do something about this," you tease softly.

"You make me so goddam hard," he breathes against your temple as if this is shocking, as if no woman has ever made him this hard before.

"Good," you whisper against his ear, making sure to drag the last syllable before flicking your tongue over his earlobe. "Need you hard so I can ride you."

"Christ," Joel groans gently, his hips jutting forward into your palm. You drag your teeth down his neck, feeling his pulse under your mouth. He tugs himself free from his sweatpants and you can see the lust in his dark eyes.

Joel watches you move, lifting your nightdress over your head until you're there between he and the workbench totally naked.

"Gorgeous," he murmurs, eyes roving over your body.

His hands slide up to cup your breasts again and he lets his thumbs graze along your nipples, gratified by your little shiver at the sensation. He watches them pebble for him, his tongue coming to drag against his lower lip. Your hand circles the head of his weeping cock, tugging as you flash him your most innocent smile.

“Please fuck me, Mister Miller.”

Joel lets out a long shudder sigh, brows saddling. You lean forward to nip along his jaw, your eyelashes low and slowly blinking.

"Fuck me hard," you tell him, tilting him to sit on his stool. You're pushing his sweatpants down over his thighs and straddling him. "Give me something to remember."

"I can do that."

You hold in a squeak as he grips you around the waist and tugs your sopping cunt along his shaft. He slides between your legs slowly, extending the sensation of entering you. It's the last time and he wants to make it count.

He groans when you finally slide the rest of the way down his length, gasping quietly as he fills you. You sit on his lap like this, ankles crossing behind him.

You both don't move. You just sit there, Joel's cock buried within you throbbing. Your eyes search his face as his hands come to hold you by the lower back.

You finally shift slowly, rolling your hips slightly. Joel's eyelids flutter as you angle pelvis, milking him as you rock against him. His hands splay over your lower back, guiding your movements, his eyes where you two join.

"Feels so good," Joel murmurs, his eyes barely open.

Your arms wrap around his neck and you know he won't kiss you, so you rest your temple against his. It allows you to hear his shuddering breath in your ear and feel the fabric of his t-shirt against your naked chest.

"You make me feel so full," you whisper, hips rocking against his.

"Good," Joel breathes.

“Wanna stay like this forever," you mutter, eyes falling shut. His arms circle you, holding you a bit tighter against him. You shift once more, feeling his cock throb inside you.

Your lips graze his neck, dragging over the stubble of his jaw. He doesn't move, just keeps still when your mouth brushes his.

"I'm gonna miss this" you whisper. "Gonna miss this thick cock fucking me."

Joel groans into you cleavage, his hips starting to press up, and his cock nudging inside your walls.

"Don't know how I'm gonna survive without this pussy," Joel rumbles, his hands guiding your hips to continue rocking over him slowly.

"We could keep in contact," you offer, pulling back to search his face. "Texting?"

"Don't know that it's a good idea," Joel supplies after a beat.

"Maybe not," you agree, pelvis tilting. "Too bad. I'm really gonna miss you."

Then something changes. Maybe it's the realization that this is too intimate, to slow and sensual. Maybe you’ve shown your emotionally caught up hand. Whatever the reason Joel suddenly laces his hands under your ass and carries you over to the far wall of the garage. He presses your spine against the cool brick, his breathing ragged. He thrusts into you, your legs still crossed at the ankle behind him. You hold onto him, unable to tear your eyes from his handsome face.

"You'd really wanna text me?" He murmurs.

"Yes," you nod.

"Send me slutty little photos while I'm here with my wife?" Joel pants. "Make me have to go to the bathroom and jerk off? Be my dirty little secret?"

"Fuck yes," you say excitedly. The thought is turning you on so much and you can’t find it in yourself to hate it. "Yes I want that."

You hold onto his shoulders for purchase and begin to rut against his hips. He pins you to the wall as he begins to pound into you, his teeth clenched and his eyes on your mouth. You bite you lower lip to stop from crying out.

"Maybe I'll call you one night," Joel whispers against your ear, his full bottom lip grazing the lobe. "Tell you how to touch yourself. Hear those pretty little sounds you make."

Your head tilts back now at the very thought of it. Joel continues to rut into you against the wall, his thrusts going harder. But his hands grip yours, pinning them to the wall under his wide palms.

"Lemme see those tits bounce," he grinds out, eyes fixed on your jolting chest when he fucks up into you. "Uh huh, just like that."

A thought suddenly causes you to pale.

"The doors unlocked," you tell him as you remember. The Joel of you first time together would panic and would shuffle over and close it. This Joel just fucks you harder with a strange little smirk on his face that you've never seen before.

"Then I guess I'm gonna have to make sure you're quiet."

His wide hand goes over your mouth, sealing your cries of pleasure and it shouldn't turn you on so much but it does. The thrusting increases in tempo and the slap of your skin against one another is the only sound heard in the quiet garage.

"Thought about fucking you in here so many times," Joel admits. "Wanted to fuck you everywhere. Fuck this pussy raw."

He's grunting quietly as if he's trying so hard to keep himself from growling. His eyes are on yours, his pupils blown out.

"Use me," you tell him behind his palm, hips tilted and cunt glossy.

He does. His hips slam into yours so harshly it takes your breath away.

He pulls back to watch his cock sliding into your sopping cunt. He makes a wounded sound, his eyes blinking rapidly as if he can’t believe its happening. He’s completely overtaken by lust, his teeth clenching as he fucks into you brutally, his taut belly slamming into yours.

"You feel so fucking good," he groans against your ear as he bottoms out again.

He doesn't even care about your clit or your pleasure right now. He's chasing his own high, desperate for release and that makes your arousal flood over his cock. He notices and gives a soft nibble to your neck.

"You like me filling this pussy up? Using you like a little fuck doll?"

You nod behind his hand, your eyes cheating to the back of your head at the vulgarity. He keeps hitting within you deep, making your body twitch in delight.

"Take it all," he pants against your jaw. "Take all my fucking cock like a good little slut."

You whimper in agreement, wrists pinned to the wall by his hands when all you want to do is run your nails down his back, marking him as yours. You want this to happen over and over again. You want him to use you, to fuck you, to make love to you. You want to suck his cock and lick the come he offers you. You want him to fuck your ass because no one has before and you want to give it to him. You want him to have everything you can give him and you want it over and over.

His finger starts to rub over your clit, his breath huffing over your cheeks as he watches you. You were already so close just at the friction of his cock between your legs. But now, your eyes flutter open to fix on his.

“I need it,” he tells you.

“I know.”

You swallow your second release, your spine arching against the cool brick as you come for him. He watches all of this with saddled brows and the faintest whimper escaping him. You moan gently, eyes opening to see him still watching you.

He releases your remaining wrists so both his broad hands can go around your waist, holding you in place as his hips begin to roll. His cock circles within you, stirring your ardor for him. He's so gorgeous, so blissfully fucked out, rambling about how you feel so perfect around him. His mouth is parted as he groans gently, eyes starting to roll back as his head moves to your shoulder.

"Tell me you'll come see me at college."

You say it impulsively but there's an edge of desperation in your voice. But Joel isn't thinking, he's cunt-struck and his hips don't slow.

"I will," Joel groans into your neck. "Fuck, I will."

"Tell me you'll fuck me in my bed there," you say as he thrusts into you against the wall so hard you see stars.

"Yes," Joel whispers, head dropping against your neck as his hips slap against yours. "I'll fuck you there, baby. Fuck you anywhere you want."

Baby. Baby. Baby.

He's yours in some way. In some small incremental way he's yours. You don't know if he means it, but you think he might.

"Come deep," you groan softly in his ear. "Please, Joel. W-wanna feel you tomorrow."

"Yes," he pants out. "Gonna get my come good girl. S'all for you."

He begins thrusting brutally into you against the wall of his garage, hips slamming into yours, hands gripping your ass so tightly it aches. You feel him release with you, warm and thick. You watch his face, seeing the pinched look to his features before he relaxes and his head tilts forward.

Your damp foreheads press together as you both catch your breath, your breathing starting to slowly match in rhythm. Despite the circumstances it feels almost intimate.

He lowers your feet to the floor, arms still loosely around your waist. You stand shakily, your palms against his chest as you find your balance. You watch as he tucks himself back into his sweatpants and leans down to grab your nightdress from where it's fallen onto the floor. He tugs it on over your head, smoothing it over your body, his hands lingering.

Your eyes flutter up to meet his open gaze and without thinking you press your mouth to his. His lips are warm and soft. Joel pauses at the contact, about to pull away but then you feel him relent, mouth opening and his tongue seeking yours briefly. His hands begin tightening around the pinch of your waist but then he must remember himself because then he pulls back, planting a slow kiss to the corner of your mouth before straightening.

"G'night."

He nods, watching you leave the garage, heading back to the guest room.

///

He's nowhere to be seen the next morning. Sarah notices it first as she passes you a bowl of cereal. When her stepmom walks into the kitchen Sarah notices that she looks frazzled and is muttering to herself.

"Where's dad, Tess?"

"I think your dad has a cold," Tess says with a frown, patting at her pockets. "He's in bed. Says he doesn't wanna get you both sick right before you get back to school. Don’t worry I’ll be driving you two to the airport. Don’t want you missing your flight."

Your stomach drops. You won't even be able to say goodbye to him. No quiet thank you, no last image of his dark eyes on yours. Just driving in silence to the airport as you mourn a relationship that never was.

The three of you eat a quick breakfast before you load up your luggage into the car. You go back inside for your remaining belongings and any last minute things left behind. Sarah asks you to take her hat to the car with you.

“I’ll be right there, just gonna say goodbye to my dad.”

You linger in the kitchen listening to the sound of his rumbling voice through the door and you think about waiting outside the room to say your goodbye as well. But it would look weird going into his bedroom to say goodbye. As far as everyone knows you barely know Joel.

Last night was your farewell to Joel Miller.

"Before I forget," Tess says to Sarah as you both load into the car. She reaches into her coat pocket. "Your dad made you this. Says he didn't want you to forget him while you were away at school."

Sarah opens her box and gives a little giggle. "Awww dad." She pulls out a small carved soccer ball. Sarah is at school on a sports scholarship so it's only appropriate.

“That’s so sweet,” Tess says with an indulgent smile. You nod, forcing a smile onto your face as well before looking out the window to the house. A part of you had been desperately hoping that his window blinds would be open, but no such luck.

You swallow your disappointment at having no tangible totem from Joel. No artifact to take back with you. No physical reminder of what you two shared and so you sit in the car with your eyes downcast into your palms.

"And this one's for you."

Your head jerks up as Tess says your name, smiling warmly and handing you back a small box. "Joel said it was so you could remember your time with us."

"Thank you."

Your heart hammers and you hurriedly open it, unable to stop your hands from shaking. Tess and Sarah are busy chatting in the front seat, giving you a moment of privacy and you’re impossibly thankful for it.

When you peer into the small box you feel your chest grow warm. Inside is a beautiful and delicate looking carved piece of wood. You recognize it as what Joel was working on last night. You gingerly take it from the box, holding it to the light.

A snowflake.

You look at the little carved snowflake. The same design as the one from your skirt when you baked together. The day Joel gave in and initiated. Your eyes pick up on a small piece of paper folded at the bottom of the box with Joel's messy scrawl. You open it covertly in case it's something inappropriate.

A snowflake never falls in the wrong place.

And his phone number at the bottom, written in small script. You feel your waterline spill over as you read the words once, twice.

Tess puts the key in the ignition and a sudden clutch is at your heart. You swallow the lump in your throat.

"Shit, I forgot my wallet inside," you say. "Gimme two minutes."

"No rush," Sarah says with a yawn. "Tess always makes us leave too early for the airport anyway."

You scramble out of the car, your footsteps a desperate drum on the pavement as you rush back inside the Miller home. You throw the front door closed before scrambling down the hallway to his room.

"Joel!"

You whirl the door to his bedroom open and see him sitting on his bed much like the first time you two were alone. Only now he's curled in a seated position with his forearms on his knees and when he looks up at you in surprise his dark eyes are wet.

"What're you doin' here?"

He moves off the bed as you hold up the small carving he made for you. He softly smiles.

"You're one of a kind, Snowflake."

You let out a sob before you throw yourself into his waiting arms. Joel holds you tightly, chin on the top of your head, whispering soothing words.

"I can't leave you," you tell him through hiccupping sobs, tears staining his shirt. "I-I'm in love with you, Joel."

Joel makes a soft sighing noise and it doesn't sound like irritation or malice. It sounds like pain.

"I know it probably feels like that," Joel says, hands cupping your face so that you'll look at him. "But this ain't love, sweetheart."

"It is!" You insist. "I've never felt the way I do about you. I love you and you love me, don't you?"

"Honey," Joel says and it's in a voice so strained you have to look up at him. He's staring down at you, his dark eyes glassy.

"This is just connection," he explains tenderly. "And you'll have others, I promise. So much stronger than this."

And you know he's right. You've known it all along but nursed this fantasy of a life with him. A future. Connection. That feels right when he says it. It feels right to explain what's gone on here. But there's a part of you that can't let him go. Not just yet.

"Will you come see me at college?"

Joel is thoughtful, brushing the hair from your wet eyes.

"Not sure. Gotta think on that one."

You nod, sniffling. You want to say so much more but you hear Tess beep the car horn.

"I better go," you say pocketing the small carving and giving him a sad look. "Thank you for everything."

You step back, your eyes full of longing as you stare at him. Joel brings a finger to your chin, tilting your face more fully up. His dark eyes scan yours for what seems like ages before dipping to your mouth. You swallow a surprised gasp when he finally, blessedly presses his lips to yours.

It’s nothing like last night which was quick and needy. This is slow and unhurried, his hands going to your jaw and tilting so he can lick lightly into your mouth. You wrap your arms around his neck and whimper for him and he kisses you soft and gentle. Tess beeps the car horn once more and you two reluctantly break apart.

"You're welcome here any time," he tells you, stroking your tearstained cheek with his knuckle. "I mean that. And if you ever need anything you just call me. You have my number now."

His sincerity is so palpable you can't help but kiss the corner of his full mouth gently. His mouth chases yours, sweeping another full lipped kiss to yours.

Your hand goes to his chest over his heart, needing one last touch as if proving to yourself that he was real.

"Thanks, Mister Miller."

He smiles. "Call me Joel."

#joel miller smut #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller #dad joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic #pedro pascal #smut #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller tlou #joel x reader #the last of us fanfiction #joel tlou #the last of us fanfic #cheating!Joel

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ewanmitchellcrumbs · 9 months

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Careless Words

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x nameless female character (third person perspective) Warnings: Angst. Toxic/abusive relationship dynamics. Mentions of death. Allusions to smut. Word count: ~2.8k

Summary: She has always given her best to Aemond, but they both know he can't say the same. Based on this request.

Author's note: I wanted to explore the darker side of Aemond's personality and how this might manifest itself in a relationship where neither party is particularly healthy in terms of their mindset. This was a cathartic piece for me to write. Lately I've been working through some resurfaced feelings linked to a past relationship that was based entirely around trauma bonding. It may be a triggering read for some, so please approach with caution (and try to remember the story itself is a work of fiction). No gods, no masters, no tag lists. Community labels are for cops. Please block me instead of labelling this, if you find yourself tempted.

Family, Duty, Honor; that is the motto of House Tully, a direct opposition of House Targaryen’s Fire and Blood. If she wasn’t so duty bound to Prince Aemond then she’d find the strength to walk away. If he was a better man he’d let her go. Unfortunately for her, nothing in a dragon’s clutches escapes without getting burned.

She is eight years old when she is sent from Riverrun to King’s Landing. She is to be a ward of House Targaryen, an idea that excites and frightens her in equal measure; she has never been away from her family before and the thought of living in a strange city with people she has never met fills her with uncertainty, yet she is eager for the adventures it will bring.

Her fears are assuaged the moment she arrives in the capital. The sprawling expanse of the city beckons her to explore its winding cobbled streets, the Red Keep is a maze of undiscovered secrets. Naturally curious, she gravitates towards Queen Alicent’s second son, Aemond. He is a quiet, sullen boy, not much older than her, and spends most of his time alone, reading. It is more than apparent to her that he does not get along with his older brother and nephews, and his sister is too lost in her own world to be of any comfort to him.

Aemond clings to her offer of friendship, and the two quickly become inseparable. She basks in the attention he lavishes upon her; sharing his books, learning High Valyrian under his tutelage, dutifully spectating for each of his training sessions in the yard, and accompanying him on his daily visits to the dragonpit - he has yet to claim a dragon, which serves to deepen his fascination of the creatures and drives him to near obsession with desire to have his own.

Aemond becomes the center of her world, a position which he appears to thrive on. The first time he threatens to take that away from her is on a day that they visit the dragonpit.

Aegon has lured him there on the pretense that the dragon keepers have discovered an unclaimed mount for him. However, he is humiliated when a pig is led out from the shadows, and he flees, distraught, back to his mother.

He lashes out at her that day, for the first time, when she attempts to comfort him.

“You will have a dragon one day,” She tries to tell him. “Ignore their silly jokes, it doesn’t matter.”

He looks at her with fury in his eyes and she shrinks fearfully away from him. His tone is vile, hateful. “It doesn’t matter to you, because you don’t understand how important dragons are to Targaryens. You are a nobody!”

She weeps bitterly when he storms away from her, it feels like she has lost her only friend in the world. She believes she has trivialised Aemond’s suffering and is ashamed of herself.

When he approaches her the next day, with lemon cakes, a book and a soft “I didn’t mean it”, she is so overjoyed to have Aemond’s attention once more that it doesn’t even occur to her that he hasn’t uttered the word “sorry”, she has him back and that is all that matters. And for a few days afterwards, he treats her with such reverence that she feels foolish for having been upset in the first place.

Aemond is ten when he loses his eye, and he puts on a brave face, though she is certain it is for the benefit of not further upsetting his mother and appearing weak in front of his nephews.

She is proven right the moment they are alone and he turns on her. She wants to support him, to show him she is unafraid of him despite the stitches that now adorn the bloodied ruin where his left eye used to be, but he will not allow that.

“Where were you?!” He shouts at her. “If you’d have been there for me, I’d still have my eye!”

She wants to argue that she could not possibly have known he was going to claim Vhagar, how could she have been there for him when everyone was supposed to be in bed? But the guilt his words inspire eclipse all rationality in her innocent, young mind. She ought to have anticipated him going after a riderless dragon, and been there to help defend him against the attack from his nephews and cousins.

“I’m sorry, Aemond, I’m so sorry.” She cries.

“Sorry will not bring back what I have lost,” He spits angrily. “No matter. I have my dragon now, I do not need you.”

He is lost to her once more, and heartache colours her world where Aemond’s presence used to.

“I didn’t mean it,” He tells her sheepishly, a few days later. “When I am healed, I will take you for a ride on dragonback.”

She does not need an apology, Aemond’s attention and willingness to share something so personal with her are more than enough. For a week after that he makes her feel as though she is the very stars in the night sky, and she basks in his good graces.

On Aemond’s thirteenth name day, she is excited to give him his gift. For weeks she has toiled in secret on a patch for him to cover the scarred side of his face. It is made of delicate black leather and has an intricate green dragon stitched carefully into the fabric.

She searches for Aemond most of the day and cannot find him. When he does eventually make an appearance he is distant and distracted, not even uttering thanks when she presents him with the patch she has made for him.

“Aegon took me to a pleasure house.” He says morosely, when she asks what’s wrong.

“Oh,” She has trouble hiding the disgust on her face, as she feels sour jealousy spread its way through her. “Why?”

He scowls upon seeing her look of judgment. “Because I grew tired of looking at your ugly face!” He snaps, before storming off.

Her self worth shatters with those words, scattered away on the winds of Aemond’s temper, and yet again she is left to wait for his careless words to become kind, while she grieves his temporary absence.

I did not mean it. And so she forgives him, piecing herself back together with every praise and doting look he offers her. She cares not that he never wears her gift or thanks her for it, it does not matter that he doesn’t say he’s sorry, because when Aemond is kind to her she feels as though she has ascended to the very heavens above.

It is an addictive cycle, and as the years press on, she finds herself craving Aemond’s tempestuous nature in moments of calm, for the love he showers her with afterwards is her only means of reassuring herself that he truly cares for her.

Aemond grows bolder in his mistreatment of her, confident that she is too attached to him to be disloyal. She is one of the few things in his life that he is able to assert full control over and he wields it without a second thought.

Shortly after her sixteenth name day, Aegon attempts to force himself on her. She fights him off and seeks comfort in the only person she can trust; Aemond. Where she expects to find sympathy, however, she is met with scorn and rage-filled jealousy.

“If you did not behave like a whore then Aegon would not do such things. Do you enjoy the attention?”

She shuts herself away in her chambers, the ache in her chest unbearable as her tears soak her pillow.

While Aemond would usually leave it a day or two before seeking her out again, he comes back to her that same evening, telling her he did not mean it as he holds her in his arms. He takes her maidenhead that night, the sharp stinging between her legs, as he pushes forcefully inside of her, soothed by his whisper of “aōhon iksan se ñuhon iksā”. I am yours and you are mine.

As their relationship blossoms into something more romantic, their rifts become more frequent. Aemond always seems to know precisely the combination of words it will take to cut her deepest, yet it is a state she has grown to feel safe in. The blood of the dragon pumps hotly in his veins and as frequently as he inflicts this side of himself upon her, it is always followed by a softness that allows her to believe that he loves her, even if they are words he never says aloud.

When Aemond’s nephews return to King’s Landing his moods become trickier for her to predict. It seems impossible for her not to anger him, and his words are poison to her fragile heart. Yet it always devolves into him assuring her he did not mean it as he fucks her into the mattress, healing every spiteful barb with impassioned touches.

Shortly after King Viserys dies, Aegon is crowned, and everything changes for the worse. His succession is challenged by Viserys’ eldest child, Rhaenyra, and steps must be put into place to secure Aegon’s reign. Aemond is a useful pawn in that process, and his grandsire, Otto, wastes no time in arranging a visit for him to Storm’s End in order to choose which of Lord Borros Baratheon’s daughters he wishes to marry.

Aemond is so matter of fact as he explains this to her, but she feels as though she reacts enough for both of them, struggling to breath as a free falling sensation in the pit of her stomach sends waves of nausea rippling through her.

She knows she is fighting a losing battle before she even opens her mouth to speak, yet she cannot help herself. She is a moth and Aemond is her flame, ever bright and eternal, the very center around which her entire world revolves. Nothing has ever seemed so final though, what pieces will there be to pick up and place back together once he is someone else’s husband?

Standing before him, she juts out her chin defiantly, willing herself not to cry in spite of the lump in her throat and the insistent stinging around the rims of her eyes. “You’re really going to go through with this?”

He sets his jaw, sighing, a visible dismissal of her feelings that makes her ache and wish she had the courage to simply walk away from him. “Don’t ask questions you already know the answer to.”

“What will become of me, of us?” She asks, her voice raising an octave, threatening to crack.

“That is inconsequential in the grand scheme of things. My brother’s succession takes precedence over everything. Marrying one of Lord Baratheon’s daughters helps strengthen his claim to the throne. Listening to your heedless fretting does not.”

She feels heat rise to her cheeks, swallowing back her anguish, attempting to sound fiercer than she feels. “Perhaps I shall decide to marry too then.”

Aemond’s scoff is so subtle it’s almost imperceptible. “Who would marry you? Your virtue is mine, always has been. You’re fortunate I still desire you.”

His tone of voice is so practical, only the slightest hint of irritation giving it an edge. He may as well be addressing a chambermaid who has not made his bed to his liking. She longs to grab him, shake him, beg him to give her any sort of indication that this is hurting him as much as it’s hurting her, because to think that he’d let her go so easily, after all these years, is more than she can stand.

Instead she says nothing, simply watches as he turns to leave, counting down the moments until he returns to her, his words sweet once more and eager to heal the rift between them, just like he always does. She craves the storm and the calm in equal measure, but they are always on Aemond’s terms, never hers.

Three nights later she awakens to him standing at the foot of her bed, dripping wet, eye filled with fear. She takes him into the sheets, fingers carding through his damp hair as he ruts his misery inside of her.

“It was an accident,” He whispers to her tearfully afterwards. “I only meant to scare Lucerys.”

She soothes him to sleep, knowing she ought to feel repulsed by what Aemond has done, but is overwhelmed by the relief of him being just hers once more.

Confusion addles her thoughts the next day when she overhears Aemond tell Otto that he had meant to kill his nephew.

When she asks him about it in private he grips the tops of her arms with such force that she yelps from the pain of it, his face almost murderous with rage as he stares at her. “If you ever utter those words again, I will have your tongue cut out.”

Aemond’s temper has always been fierce, a trait of his that she is forever wary of, however, until now she has never felt afraid of him. At this very moment, Aemond frightens her. He has the capacity to cause her harm, and does not seem to care if he does.

Later he presses featherlight kisses to each of the vivid purple bruises that mark her upper arms. Though he appears remorseful, he does not offer an apology or even an utterance of “I did not mean it.”

“You must not anger me like that again,” He tells her instead.

She simply nods, dread boring a void into the pit of her stomach.

As the war escalates, resulting in the death of Aegon and Helaena’s son, Jaehaerys, and the grievous injury of Aegon, Aemond takes up the mantle of Prince Regent. While Aemond bears the burden of the additional responsibility, she bears the onslaught of his frustrations, becoming a vessel into which he pours his every grievance. The adoration he showers her with after each display of cruelty becomes infrequent to the point that she feels as though she is a hound begging for scraps. Eventually she learns to accept his ire, reasoning he would simply cast her aside and ignore her if he did not care for her.

She is delighted when Aemond insists upon bringing her along to his march upon Harrenhal. She allows herself to believe that his desire to have her at his side is because he is committed to her, that perhaps this means he intends to marry her once the war is over. A voice in the back of her mind reasons it is most likely because he enjoys the control he asserts over her, but she does her best to ignore it.

Jealousy swirls sharply in her gut when she sees the only person that Aemond has spared in his seizing of the castle - a witch named Alys Rivers, a raven haired beauty who he informs her will be of great use to him in helping him to defeat his Uncle Daemon. She swallows down her doubts, attempting to reassure herself that she has nothing to worry about, Aemond has never strayed from her before, why would he now?

She curses herself for ignoring her suspicions when she catches him between the witch’s thighs. She expects herself to grieve, to scream, to cry, to shatter to pieces at his infidelity, but instead a sense of clarity washes over her. For the first time in a decade she wishes to leave Aemond.

No longer does she crave his approval, or long to make amends, a veil has been lifted and finally she sees him for the selfish, spoiled and callous hearted man he truly is. He will never love her, not as she deserves, and she is making a fool of herself to stay by his side while he is openly disrespectful of her and her feelings.

His eye darkens with familiar ill intent when she informs him of her plan to return home.

“Do not be so foolish,” He says condescendingly. “You are behaving irrationally over a minor indiscretion.”

She shakes her head. “I believe this is the first time since I’ve known you that I’ve behaved with any sense at all. I am leaving.”

“Ñuhon iksā,” He tells her. His tone carries none of the soft, loving intent it usually does when he utters this statement, now it is dark and threatening. You are mine.

“Dōre iksan,” She replies simply. I am not.

“You cannot exist without me,” He says with a scowl.

“Watch me,” She counters.

It is not until a few days later, once she has returned home to her family, that the full weight of Aemond’s words begin to sink in. As the wings of Vhagar darken the skies above the Riverlands, she realises that he does not mean he thinks she can’t exist without him, it is that he will not allow her to.

She watches in tense horror as the fiery blaze engulfs her homeland, acrid smoke drawing ever nearer as Aemond’s dragon immolates houses, farmland and forests alike. If he were a better man he’d simply have let her go. Unfortunately for her, nothing in a dragon’s clutches escapes without getting burned.

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fuckmyskywalker · 7 months

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"Wide Open Vol. II." — Anakin Skywalker.

— CW: 18+, smut! Fisting. Anilingus. Squirting. Dirty Talk. | Word count: 1.4k (not proofread!) | Practically a part II of Wide Open (day 1).

— List of films! | Taglist.

The vengeful nature of Anakin Skywalker was not new.

It was more of a… common knowledge sort of thing.

And you, more than anyone know how far his thirst for revenge can get him.

It didn’t matter how much he enjoyed being fucked in the ass last week, you humiliated him and he was going to return the favor. So, he tied your hands behind your back and forced you to stay still on ar fours, ass in the air while Anakin ate your pussy until your legs quivered, the orgasms overwhelmed you and all you could do was moan and blabber— but it won’t stop there. Of course not. He needs to teach you a lesson.

Removing his glove, the shiny metal and wires of his prosthetic shine under the dim lighting of the cheap motel room he found in the filthiest streets of Coruscant. With a wicked smirk, he trails the cold metal over your thighs, barking a laugh when he sees you shiver in anticipation and whine in panic. He relishes every reaction, delighted at how sensitive you can be. “You are so fucking beautiful— all mine.” He whispers, positioning himself more comfortably in between your legs, reaching for the same water-based lube you tortured him with, and applying a generous amount over his mechanical hand and your throbbing, overworked pussy.

He uses the index and middle finger first, inserting them slowly, testing the waters, and waiting for any negative reaction. The sensation is new, way different from any toys or any other object Anakin desires to use as a makeshift dildo— even the base of his lightsaber after a particular night of drinks and makeout sessions— it’s from a whole other planet. The ridges, creases, and even the texture, so smooth yet so rigid make you moan and clench around his digits and it’s so raw and real Anakin swears he can even feel how you squeeze his fake fingers, despite being physically incapable of doing so. He takes his time, just like you did spreading him with your strap; using his practiced precision to hit all the right spots that make you wriggle and squirm. He curls his fingers, looking for that spot that he knows will make you jerk and drool. Anakin’s flesh and blood hand caresses the supple flesh of your ass, groping it and giggling it meanly. He also loves your ass.

The fire and hunger in his eyes is only comparable to the heat of an unforgiving summer in Tatooine, or the deadly lava rivers in Mustafar— and you are missing it completely, burying your teary face in the coarse pillows of the motel bed. Anakin watches you intently, ignoring with all his might he has the uncomfortable pain of his hard cock against his stomach. Adjusting the angle and changing the speed of his thrusts as he sees fit, Anakin’s mouth (just like usual) is unable to stay shut.

“I bet you wish it was my cock instead, right dollface? I bet you want to milk every drop of cum from my balls like the cock-hungry slut you are” It only fuels his neverending ego to talk to you in such a condescending way. Because it shows him that he can do it without any repercussions. That he can call you names, slap you, bite you, abuse you— and that you will love every second of it.

You struggle to answer, so you opt to nod. He gets the message anyway, chuckling meanly. “I know, I know— not your fault getting your pussy ate makes you this stupid, okay baby? Go ahead and be dumb, I’ll take care of you.”

Eager to keep pushing your limits, Anakin adds a third finger, fighting the urge to become rougher, because as much as he wants to hurt you— he doesn’t want to hurt you. Fascinated, Anakin groans at your corporeal response, biting his tongue at the sight of your pussy accommodating his mechanical fingers, a tad wider and longer than his flesh ones. Your walls clench in front of him, as you get closer and closer to your release; so, he slows down. “You won’t come until I say so, Mama.” He smirks, lowering his face to kiss your asscheek. At your disappointed whine, he sinks his sharp teeth into your cheek. Instead of shying away from him, your hips push further to his face, inching his fingers inside of you a bit more.

Adding a fourth finger, he keeps a mindful pace, working you out to endure the stretch. Anakin keeps his mouth occupied chewing and biting the skin of your ass, leaving bite marks and hickeys. His real hand is splayed over your thigh digging his blunt fingernails into your sweaty flesh. After another round of lube, Anakin has to take a deep breath, unsure if he is going to be able to witness fisting you with his metal hand and not blowing up his load right there. Positioning his fingers in a straight, almost duck-shaped placement, Anakin slides his whole hand very, very slowly, making sure his thumb is folded.

The air is punched out of your lungs, and your body stays still, as your shoulders tense— this is amazing. It’s— surprisingly not painful, and you hazily remind yourself to thank Anakin for the endless prep. Being stretched like this is like nothing you had ever felt before, not even with his cock, which is by far the one you had struggled with the most.

Anakin freezes for a moment, wrist deep inside your warm, velvety pussy. Your walls pulsating and squeezing his prosthetic. He releases a shaky breath, swallowing the knot in his throat. He will never forget this view. When he sees you relax, his hand starts to gently work back and forth, as he readies you with the fullness of his fist. Your forehead rests on your forearms, pretty much like he did when you pegged him a few weeks ago. The way your body vibrates with pleasure makes him want to continue, to feed those lustful, taboo desires of yours, to blur your boundaries and give you another night that will stay forever in the depths of your mind and symbolize his love and possession for you; an eternal reminder that he is the only one capable of doing such things to you— of evoking such primal, forbidden desires to you.

Building up a faster pace, you realize too late how he spreads your asscheeks again, until he spits a globe of saliva right on your puckered hole, diving in. He circles your tight hole while your moans fill the tiny room, sweet and sexy— the wonderful melody that belongs to your body.

He laps at you, thrusting his tongue in and out the thigh muscle, loosing it up gently. He adores to be able to use you without you putting up any resistance, it’s both a privilege and a right that he has awarded himself. Listening to the wet sounds of your pussy, how your slick starts to coat his metal hand until the material glistens, he ravishes your other hole while he fists you faster, making your poor, abused cunt clench and unclench as you approached the edge of your climax. When the climax— that fantastic release that you had been waiting for ever since he stuck three fingers in crashes into you, over you, is so strong your eyes shut and your ears ring loudly. Everything is blurry, foggy, and you wonder if this is really cloud nine. Anakin, on the other hand; was caught off guard by the sudden release of your arousal, but he wins back his poise quickly, his own sadistic urges building at the sight of you so thoroughly stimulated. The prosthetic fist continued to thrust as you rode out your orgasm and your body released every drop of that clear liquid that stained the already dirty covers of the room.

Withdrawing his hand, your body falls limp to the springy mattress, spent and exhausted from your orgasm and first-ever-squirting. Anakin grins at the state he managed to get you, knowing well this is the revenge he sought. Raising his right arm, your boyfriend brings his fingers up to his mouth, licking the steel and wires clean.

“You taste so sweet, darling,” He whispers, laying down next to you and wrapping his arms around your waist, peppering your face with kisses. “Do you think I can make you squirt on my cock?”

— 🐚 if you wish you be added to my taglist there's a google forms in the beginning of the post! There you can select which days you would like to be tagged in (or choose the option: all the above!). If you send me a DM or an ask I will tag you on every day! | some tags might not work due to your settings, so let me know!

#𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 anya writes!#𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 kinktober 2023!#anakin skywalker #anakin skywalker smut #anakin skywalker x reader smut #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker x you #anakin skywalker x y/n #anakin smut #anakin x reader smut #anakin x reader #anakin skywalker one shot #anakin skywalker fanfiction

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dabisqueen · 1 year

Text

Without Consent

Permission to use the art granted by the artist. Please refrain from using the art without permission. Shar's too cute of a button to deal with that.

Dabi x fem!Reader

⇢ word count: roughly 2.3K

⇢ plot: you (more or less) accidentally bump into Dabi and are in for a big surprise

⇢this is kind of the SFW version. I still recommend NOT reading it with others around, especially not your boss hehe

⇢ warnings: 18+, minors DNI, Dabi being the flirty tease we all love, (somewhat) consensual restraining of the reader, steamy makeout session (ok ok, mostly just kissing) but also some dry-humping resulting in a wet spot on Dabi's pants—oops!

⇢ personal note: I've always wanted to write something inspired by @sharlockart ´s art. I got her permission to go ahead and booooooom! Here we are! Thanks to @blankexpressions-and-falsefires for being my beta this time. You're the best!

It was then that you felt it. The lingering feeling of someone watching you. You looked up to find two incredibly piercing azure irises pointed sharply at you.

Shit.

The bright blue of his eyes turned dark as he continued to side-eye you with an unmoving expression. Your face went ablaze and you instantly dropped your gaze, shoving your phone with trembling hands back in the pocket of your jacket. Cursing inwardly a few times for having been caught staring, you hastily turned to make your way through the crowd across the intersection. You took a peek over your shoulder, a wave of relief washing over you when you didn't see him among the people behind you.

By "him" you meant one of the most dangerous villains in the country, Dabi.

You would have recognized him anywhere– the usual bored expression on his face, that all too familiar messy raven hair with bangs falling over his brows. The mauve scarred skin—

—and the piercing blue eyes.

It still sent chills up your spine recalling the moment they met yours. He had stood there, one hand holding a cigarette, the other a phone to his ear while he talked to someone. The way his black pants clung to his thighs way too alluringly, his beige sweater and a black leather jacket complementing his features even more.

And even though a warm, comforting fuzziness still clouded your head after that short encounter, you started to regret having visited this part of town which was known to be the home of some sketchy outcasts and– villains.

You'd always been fascinated by the less than savory figures— not the overhyped heroes of your hometown. It's been a hobby of yours to study them, especially the members of the League of Villains. And your particular obsession had been with Dabi.

You had been spending your afternoons after college strolling around those areas in hopes of finally meeting him, finally being able to snap a picture of him.

And this time you did—

—and weren't at all prepared for your reaction. The instant jolt of fire coursing through your veins as soon as your eyes met his. The feeling of wanting to lose yourself in their depths. Endorphins rushing through your system, triggering a blistering heat in your core and making your panties stick to you in ways they usually only did during late night hours, with your hands down your panties while thinking of him.

Again—shit.

With your emotions all stirred up and still unable to focus, you had taken a wrong turn. The next bus stop being several blocks away meant you just had to keep walking, your eyes squinting as light became increasingly sparse. It was getting darker outside, the sun slowly setting behind the concrete mass of the city, the long shadows of the tall buildings slowly caging you in. Dainty street lamps sparingly lined the streets, their thin yellow rays fighting to reach the ground, failing to penetrate the overwhelming darkness.

A musty breeze was blowing, sending leaves and pieces of garbage dancing noisily across the cracked concrete floor. The sky was painted in hues from flame to azure, yet here in the depths of the street between the buildings you didn't see much, only growing shadows creeping in on you.

The breeze picked up and you shivered, regretting your choice to only wear a loose sweat-dress and a pair of thin, skin-colored tights. You pulled up the zipper of your cropped jacket, and sighed, hoping that you would soon get to a bus stop.

A loud ping startled you out of your train of thought, your phone vibrating urgently. Your heart nearly jumped out of your chest as you stopped in your tracks, sliding your hand in your pocket to retrieve it.

The display shone bright in the dim light of the street alley as you unlocked the screen with a swipe. A message popped up—your friend.

Where are you, expecting you to be home by now.

You groaned, thinking back on how you wouldn't have had to walk home if it weren't for the distracting encounter with that devious blue-eyed villain earlier on.

"That damn bastard—" You started.

A voice suddenly spoke close by. “I hope you're not talking about me.”

A large hand appeared out of the darkness from beside you, wrapping around both of your wrists and gripping them tightly, causing your phone to slip from your grip. A weak whimper fell from your lips, while it was caught mid air by another purple scarred hand, the dim light of the far away street lamp reflecting weakly in the silver staples adorning it.

Your body froze as you were shoved against the wall, hands being jerked up and pinned over your head against the rough bricks to hold you in place. Your breath hitched as you elevated your face, your gaze instantly locking with a pair of icy blue eyes boring into you.

Dabi.

He casually glanced at the unlocked screen of your phone, scrolling through your chat. Slipping the phone into his own pocket, his gaze drifted back up, lazy blue eyes flicking up to yours.

"So, you're taking pictures of me without my consent?" he tipped his head, an eyebrow cocked.

You let out a little breathy moan, squirming in his hold, surprised at how thrilling it felt to be manhandled like this.

"At least you think I look fine. That earns you bonus points." His lips curled up into a devilish smirk.

"Sir, you don't want to do this!" you swallowed nervously, his intimidating aura making you squirm. "Just please, let me go."

"C'mon, doll." He chuckled darkly, "You know my name. Use it."

"D-Dabi—" it came out as a mere whimper. "Please, I need to get home."

"God, my name sounds so fucking hot on your tongue." He cooed, his voice deep and husky, enough for your heartbeat to quicken.

Up close, he was even more attractive than you came to learn from the blurred images you've seen online or in the news. His scent was overwhelming, a mixture of warm skin and smoke. It had an effect on you unlike anything you've ever experienced. Your nerves were on fire, the heat between your legs blistering as you clenched your thighs together.

Dabi seemed to notice, because his smirk grew wider as he closed the gap between you. The staples on his face scraped along your cheek as his lips brushed your earlobe and your body felt hot all of a sudden.

"But still– maybe I should do something to you without your consent?" His low, sultry voice being so close sent instant shivers up your spine. "What do you think, doll– you gonna be a good girl for me?"

It was like your body reacted on its own, as you slowly nodded, making him chuckle against your ear. It was enough to make your stomach somersault while you felt his mismatched lips brush back over your cheekbones, leaving a trail of nibbles here and there, making you gasp with the forbidden pleasure. You could feel him grinning against your skin at your reaction as he slowly made his way toward your lips.

You had forgotten how to speak– how to move. When his lips brushed the corner of your lips, a scorching heat shot right through your body, clouding your mind with indecent thoughts. Without thinking, you parted your lips in anticipation.

A pleased sound rumbled deep in Dabi's chest. But he simply paused there, just breathing against the corner of your lips. It was torture and he was obviously greatly enjoying your reaction as you felt him smirk again.

Suddenly, he straightened up, eagerly taking you in with smoldering turquoise eyes.

"You're cute." You heard him say under his breath as he kept taking you in, tracing his long finger along the line of your cheek.

You were biting your lower lip, unsure where to look, too distracted by your body slowly burning up. With him still holding you in place by your wrists, you watched his free hand retrieve your phone from his pocket. Swiping across the dark screen it came to life, instantly unlocking.

"Pfft, how naive," he noted, laughing under his breath. "Not using a password…"

Oh shit, you berated yourself for always forgetting to set one up.

His thumb flew over the display and when he was done, he looked up at you, and with a wide grin he slipped your phone back into the pocket of your jacket.

He adjusted his grip on your wrists, keeping you in place as he leaned in. You swallowed your breath, heart thrumming loudly against your chest.

"Unfortunately, this is where we have to part, doll." His free hand started playing with loose strands of your hair. "But I think you still owe me an apology."

Your eyes flicked to his lips and back but it was too late. His mouth curled suspiciously at the corner, having caught your wandering gaze.

"I think you know what I mean—" He tilted his head, his eyes slowly dropping down to your mouth.

He trapped your chin between his thumb and index finger, pulling your face up and closer. As he angled his mouth above yours, you could feel the heat of his breath on your lips, and instinctively your eyelids fluttered shut.

Time seemed to stand still at his close proximity; the warmth of his body against yours and his breath on your lips became your entire existence. You couldn’t even think, let alone move. You were completely at his mercy.

“Just like that…” you heard him whisper before he eased his lips over yours.

It struck you like lightning when you found his tongue slipping inside to explore your mouth. Your mind short-circuited as he sensually worked your mouths together giving you ample time to catch up and start to kiss back eagerly. He was the best thing you've ever tasted, and the scent of his smoky, warm skin drugged your senses. You let yourself fall into his kiss, his hand sliding behind your neck to pull you deeper into it.

His mouth was so hot on yours, leaving you lightheaded and with buckling knees. You would’ve sunk to the ground already if it wasn't for his tight grip on your wrists.

As if he knew, his thigh pried open your legs and slipped between them, pinning you in place. You gasped into his mouth, goosebumps exploding all over your body.

There was so much heat between your legs, your panties were soaked and the thin fabric of your tights didn't do anything to hide it from him.

You were starting to lose your mind as you continued to kiss, his thigh pressing right against your dripping core. You needed more, more of him down there. So without thinking, you started grinding down on his leg, the rough fabric of his jeans grazing against you, giving you ample friction to satisfy your growing need. Back and forth, you worked your hips until you were a trembling mess in his hold. You were so close to feeling the tension release, your body was ready to explode with pleasure.

Suddenly, he pulled away from you a little, groaning deeply– his eyes, dark and hooded with lust, boring into yours.

“So innocent,” he hummed appreciatively. “But such a big tease."

He straightened back up, sliding his thigh out from between yours. A strained whimper broke free from your lips at the loss of pressure. Releasing you from his hold, your arms dropped uselessly to your side. You started soothing the fresh ache by massaging your slowly bruising skin. Your eyes, following his thigh after it left you wanting, noticed a damp spot on his pants where you had ground against it. A blazing heat bloomed in your cheeks, your gaze dropping down onto the mucky ground.

"That was fun." He said, followed by a short chuckle as he stepped back.

You looked up at him from under your lashes, still too embarrassed to look him straight in the face.

"But– gotta go." And with that he adjusted the bag around his shoulder and strutted off. "See ya, doll—"

He stopped to shoot you a glance over his shoulder. His deep turquoise eyes met yours, lingering on you for a few moments before he took another step and was swallowed up by the darkness.

The moment he was gone had you hyperventilating, toppling against the scratchy brick wall for any sense of stability. Your palm clasped your chest as you tried to regain control of your breathing.

What the hell just happened?!?!

It was then that your phone vibrated, a text tone alerting you of a new message. With trembling fingers you pulled it from your pocket to see a message from an unknown number.

Holy shit…

To be continued...

#dabi smut #dabi x reader #dabi x you #dabi todoroki #bnha dabi #dabi #dabi fluff #mha touya #todoroki touya #touya smut #touya todoroki #bnha touya #touya x you #mha smut #bnha smut

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thydungeongal · 7 months

Note

I run two weekly games online and one of them has a bit of an attendance problem rn 'cuz people are busy with school and such. Recently, instead of cancelling/rescheduling the session entirely when we don't have enough players for the main campaign, I've started running really simple one-shots with however many players show up. I was wondering if you had any recommendations for one-page TTRPGs or otherwise simple systems I could use.

I have a few that come to mind:

2400 by Jason Tocci. Not a single game but a collection of simple sci-fi games built around the same engine that each fit on two pages. Genres range from cyberpunk to teenage mutant ninja animals to big fighting robots to straight-up fantasy (that might just be sci-fi where people think technology is magic). Costs 6 bucks and you get a bunch of games.

Lady Blackbird by John Harper. I know it's traditional to recommend John Harper's Lasers & Feelings for asks like this and Lady Blackbird isn't a one-page game but it's free and simple. It's a fascinating game basically built for one-shots, and it not only contains all the rules you need to play but a situation and characters so you can get started immediately. I have not had the chance to play it myself, but it looks absolutely fantastic.

Pretty much all the one-pagers by Grant Howitt. Honey Heist is known around the actual play circuit, it's about bears trying to steal honey, but there's also Crash Pandas (raccoons taking part in illegal street-racing), Sexy Battle Wizards, and many, many more.

#thydungeongal answers

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dreamer-after-dark · 9 months

Text

💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜

Human!Wally Darling/Gender Neutral Y/N

They share a very sensual cuddle session together. Reader is chubby.

Comfort/Praise, kissing, touching, light biting, eye contact. Just a lot of foreplay.

Word count: 1,490

💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜

Bugs clamored in the quiet evening wanting to be heard above the rest. Cars drove through the streets down below with the sounds of excitable music fading away with them. The cloudy sky deepened in color as the minutes passed by. You watched with lazy fascination as the sun's rays dripped down the walls. The soft color filled the room, coating everything it could touch with its glow.

Wally had made himself comfortable with his head resting against your chest. His body nestled comfortably between your legs. You were breathing easy as the intense colors faded away from view leaving only the light from a plug-in. Wally insisted on listening to your heart beat. He said it was amazing the way it sped up or slowed down. His finger tapped against your wrist as he kept time.

Wally sighed as the tapping changed to him drawing circles against your wrist. His nail dragged but never caught your skin. The circles were small in size looping over and over again in the same spot. As light as his touch was, you couldn't help but find it distracting. Your body twitched and tensed as it adjusted itself under the new sensation. Wally smiled as he nuzzled against your chest gently pushing against your jaw to press closer to your body.

His tracing broke, leading his touch downward so that he could part your fingers and fill the spaces with his own, "How was your day today, sweetest?"

"My day was.. It was a day," your hand in his felt warm, "And yours, honeycrisp?"

"It was a day," he repeated with a giggle, "I'm glad to be here with you."

"There's nowhere else I'd like to be." You mumbled in agreement.

He pulled you closer, his breathing hitched a bit. Silence followed as Wally teased his touch along your hand. His pointer rose and fell along the expanse of your sensitive palm. He would be sure to keep his ear right above your heart so as to never miss a beat.

Every passing of his touch on your skin undid the tension and restraints of the already fading day. It eased you into his presence, into these four walls. The outside was worlds away. Your hand rests at your side where he continues to feel along your wrist and palm, the other moved up to feel the thick strands of his undone hair. You ran your hand through letting them pass and fall at the pull of their own weight. Wally practically purred at the feeling.

His hand moved away from you momentarily. You made a small sound of displeasure, but gasped when his hand came to rest fully on your hip. Your heart rate jumped as your body tensed at the sudden change.

His hand gripped around your waist ever so slightly as he applied a calming pressure, "Your heart started beating a little faster… Is it because of me?"

You couldn't suppress an embarrassed smile, "Maybe a little bit."

Wally playfully scolded you, "Are you getting nervous?"

You were going to respond, but Wally held your hip a little tighter. He turned his head a bit so that his lips pressed against your neck. Even like this he could feel your heart pick up again. You ate your words, not that you remembered what they were. His breath tickled against your skin as his lips grazed ever so slightly against your exposed neck.

"You're so soft." He whispered against your skin. He spent a few seconds like this before laying his head back down on your chest. You felt him smile as he tapped his pointer against your thigh keeping in time with your heart. You released the breath you held in. Wally had a way of getting under your skin and you were sure you enjoyed it.

Wally moved his hand lower to your outer thigh. He gently lifted your shorts up and let them bunch around your hip. You felt him tense as he discovered you weren't wearing underwear. Your heart rate sped, but neither of you said anything.

Instead, the pads of his fingers gently pulled against your skin until you felt his nails pressing close. His fingers curled letting them scrape ever so slightly against your thigh. As his fingers extended, his smooth nails gilded along your flesh until the tips of his nails dragged against it. He continued this repetitive motion for a bit moving ever so slightly to tease his touch underneath the bunched shorts.

"How are you feeling, sweetness?" He asked, voice filled with his need to know.

"I'm feeling good." You spread your fingers watching each strand of his hair part.

You felt him smile against you. His touching stopped and your eyes opened. Wally's face was right above yours with his arms on either side of your head. He had one leg between your thighs as he kept you pinned below him. His hair tickled the side of your face, but you gently played with the ends as you stared up at him.

His eyes were half-lidded and he had a small, but pleased smile on his face. His brown skin glowed from within wherever the orange night light shined on him. He looked otherworldly on top of you like this. You stared wide-eyed and entranced, this look of yours was not lost to him. His smile grew wider as his eyes creased. You were practically stupefied beneath him from touch alone. His eyes held yours and you struggled to look away for long.

He pressed a kiss to your forehead as one of his hands came up to cup your face. His thumb grazed your cheek and jaw as he kissed along your hairline. He turned your head to the side as his lips trailed lower to your ear where he only giggled when your thighs squeezed around his. Leaving your ear alone, he kissed your cheek instead. His kisses lasted a bit longer as he moved closer to the side of your lips. He pulled away to admire the blush that tinted your skin now.

Your hands were holding onto his wrist. One circled around it squeezing and rubbing. The other was holding his hand in place as you nuzzled against his palm. Your eyes remained shut as he watched you kiss it. Everything you did made him feel overjoyed with your presence.

He leaned close to your ear, "You taste so sweet."

Wally made you face him. Your eyes fluttered open, dreamy and dazed. He smiled as he watched you. Your eyes shut as he leaned down. His lips molded around yours. His lips were a bit chapped as they brushed against your smooth ones. His tongue flicked against your bottom lip whenever he pulled away before leaning back in to savor your taste.

"I want to touch you more." Such simple words excite you. Wally was staring into your eyes as his hands held your hips. He squeezed as his hands rubbed up bunching your shorts a bit more. His fingers caught your shirt and lifted them up as his palms pressed flat against your stomach and up towards your waist.

You stare into your eyes letting him watch how he affects you. You smile when he does, but flinch when his hands stop leaving your shirt pulled up and out of the way. His eyes leave your face to gaze at your exposed stomach. His hand rubs up and down your waist. You can feel him breathing when he leans down. Wally wastes no time as he kisses your stomach. He picks random spots to press his lips against and each one makes you tense.

"It's only me, only Wally." He says to you hoping to calm your nerves. His eyes looked away from your face once you started to relax. Your breathing evened out as he continued to kiss your stomach. He grew bold as he licked along your ribs. His tongue pressed flat as it glided, the tip of his tongue flicked as he pulled away.

Wally squeezed a bit of fat around your belly button, "So warm, so squishy."

He bent down to kiss the tender spot, licking up the sheer coating of sweat budding up. He licked the same spot as he held you by your waist squeezing ever so slightly. After a moment he stopped to check on your reaction so far. Pleased to see you blushing with a dopey smile, he leaned back down and bit at the spot he was focusing on.

Your breath hitched as the bit molded around his sharp teeth letting you feel everyone. Your body twisted in response, but Wally held you still. His teeth released your skin leaving behind subtle teeth marks and a throbbing that was spreading all around yourself. Wally had made his way back up to be face to face with you, he smiled as he held you close against him.

#playfellowxxx #wally darling x reader #wally darling #wally darling playfellowxxx #welcome home x reader #x reader #x yn #x gn reader #x gn y/n #x gender neutral reader #x chubby reader #mostly foreplay #comfort #praise #eye contact #focusing on the senses #wetdreams #human!Wally Darling

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lullabyes22-blog · 1 year

Note

Arcane ladies with a busty gf

Most of the Arcane ladies are themselves quite busty, tbh.

Except Jinx.

It's the trauma. It stunted her, um, growth.

nsfw

Vi: Will show you how to properly wrap your chest and give it support during a sparring session - and in general during roof-hopping, so you're mobile and maneuverable without anything slowing you down. May cheekily grab your boob now and then and whisper, "Honk, honk," then kiss the frown off your face.

Caitlyn: If you're prone to backaches, you'll get a million backrubs. She'll even go shopping with you, to make sure you've got a nice and comfortable wardrobe that suits your body-type. She may also, from time to time, zone out while staring at your cleavage, then blush and drag herself back into the moment. Oopsie. Naughty thoughts.

Sevika: Like Vi, she'll want to make sure you've got proper support while patrolling the streets, so you're not wobbling all over the place. During downtime, however, expect her to be groping your chest near-constantly - from the casual arm around your shoulder and hand dangling over one breast in public, to practically mauling you private. Your chest will have hickeys on top of hickeys. Ouchie<3

Mel: The lingerie this woman buys for you as presents would make you feel at once comfortable and smoking hot even during your crappiest days. She'd also take great pleasure in painting you in the nude. There's just something about a Juno-esque body type that transforms any artwork into decadent Rococo fluff. If you're self conscious about being busty, she'll definitely give you both an ego-boost, and an appreciation for your own body.

Jinx? Your boobs are pillows. Your boobs are stress balls. Your boobs have nicknames. Yes, plural. She's borderline fascinated with them - a fascination tinged with envy. Where was the Good Tiddy Fairy when she hit puberty, huh?

Clearly, you were blessed with extra to compensate for lack of squish in her life. She will therefore squish often. And with a gremlin-like gusto.

#asks #arcane league of legends #arcane #jinx #arcane jinx #arcane vi #vi #arcane mel #mel #arcane caitlyn #caitlyn #arcane sevika #sevika #sevika x reader #jinx x reader #caitlyn x reader #vi x reader #mel x reader

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bakedbakermom · 6 months

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Takeout Interruptus (read on ao3) fluff and humor // T // 1k words tagging @today-in-fic @ao3feed-msr

A makeout session is interrupted by an over-enthusiastic delivery boy who just can't take a hint. (Note: "OK Chinese Restaurant" is a real place in the SF Bay Area, so I hope you will forgive me for the name. I always wanted to open another place across the street called "Good Chinese Restaurant.")

Scully’s tongue thrusts hot and wet into his mouth, her hands tangled in his hair. She gasps as his fingers slip under the hem of her shirt to begin a teasing journey up the sweet plains of her stomach, inching higher and higher... when a loud knock sounds at Mulder’s door. “Sorry,” he murmurs against her lips. “Forgot I ordered food.”

She whines when he pulls away, though her stomach is rumbling. “Hurry back, G-Man.”

He smiles over his shoulder as he grabs his wallet and opens the door, revealing a gangly teenager with bright red hair, a smattering of acne, and an anemic little caterpillar of a mustache valiantly attempting to crown his upper lip. In his hands are two bulging bags of takeout, their stylized font proudly proclaiming them the product of Mr. Fung’s OK Chinese Restaurant (Ask About Two-for-One Tuesday Special!).

“Hey, Zack, how’s it going?”

“Good, Mr. Mulder, thanks. That’ll be $27.50.” He holds the bags up for emphasis and Mulder thumbs through his wallet. “Hey, so, you were right about that book you told me about, the one with the yetis? Susie thought it was really cool and now I think maybe she thinks I might be really cool and so I was just wondering if you had any, like, recommendations for more? Because, like, I’m not great with girls, and she’s so pretty and so smart and she smells, like, so good and I just don’t want to blow it, like—“

Mulder pulls out a few worn bills with an unnecessary flourish, waving them right under the boy’s nose, and Zack’s motor mouth dies abruptly. “Next time, okay? Keep the change.”

Oblivious, the young man bumbles on. “Come on, man, it’s just that I’m, like, really nervous? I’m supposed to meet up with her after my shift tonight and she was like, ‘it’s no big deal’ but, like, it’s a super big deal and you’re always so, like, suave and stuff I just thought maybe—”

“Zack,” Mulder says with emphasis, though not without kindness. “I’m a little busy tonight.”

The boy peers around his shoulder into the living room. “Oh hey, Ms. Scully.” She smiles indulgently and wiggles her fingers at him in a small wave. “You guys got some cool new case going on? Oh is it gross? Susie loves when I talk about the gross ones, that Flukeman thing had her fascinated for days so maybe you could just, like, give me a few details and I could like—”

He is inching closer to the door and Mulder sticks a hand out to grab the frame, his forearm forming a barricade before the boy can cross the threshold. “Not exactly, Zack.” Scully can’t see his face, but she can hear in his voice the wide eyes, the raised brows, the way his mouth presses into a thin line as he silently begs the boy to take the damn hint (and the money) and go.

Zack peeks around him again, slower this time, and his eyes widen along with his grin. His gaze flicks back and forth as he takes in Scully’s pinked cheeks, Mulder’s disheveled hair, the coffee table with a pair of near-empty wine glasses and no casefiles in sight. “Oh man! Oh, oh wow. Is this—? Are you—? Oh man!” He gives Mulder a bony but encouraging punch on the shoulder, thumping him in the gut with the takeout bag in the process. “Yeah, sorry, yeah, no, you got it, Mr. Mulder, I’m outta here, say no more, I’ll just, yeah, okay uh—”

He bolts all of three steps before realizing he forgot something, and nearly drops it all as he tries to hand Mulder both bags and take the money at the same time, with only two knobby arms to handle the job. One more glance into the living room, his smile so big it looks painful and shows off an impressively shiny array of orthodontics. “Yeah, okay, bye guys, have a good night, I mean, uh, I’ll just—”

“Bye, Zack.”

“Right, yeah, uh, bye!” He nearly trips over his own oversized feet as he sprints down the hall, shoes squeaking all the way. Rolling his eyes, Mulder pushes the door shut—but not before they hear him whispering excitedly to himself, “Wait ‘til I tell Susie about this!” His voice cracks on the last word.

“Scully?” Mulder asks as he turns back to her. “Do you ever get the feeling that everyone in the world was just waiting for us to get together, and we were too dumb to see it?”

She rises from the couch and takes the bags, then pushes up on her toes to press her mouth fleetingly to his. “Frequently. I’m pretty sure Skinner has Barbie dolls of us and he makes them kiss when he thinks no one is watching.”

He follows her into the kitchen, grabbing plates from the shelves she can’t reach while she rummages through the drawers for clean utensils. When she turns to face him, she finds him already close enough to touch, close enough that his body heat washes over her in a wave that sends tingles from her scalp to her toes. He grabs the counter on either side of her waist, trapping her between the firm brackets of his arms. “Think that kid is gonna get lucky tonight?”

Scully smiles, hooking her fingers through his belt loops and pulling until his hips are flush with hers. She threads her hands into his hair and pulls his face down close. “The more pressing question is,” she whispers, her breath ghosting over his lips, “are you going to get lucky tonight?”

“Would it improve my chances if I started talking about yetis?”

She reaches around, squeezes his ass with both hands, and he yelps as he bucks against her. “Let’s not risk it,” she smirks into his mouth, and kisses him like she wants to swallow him whole.

The takeout goes cold on the counter, but warms up nicely for a midnight snack.

I could not get this idea out of my head. At first I wanted to make it a scene in a larger piece of smut, but ultimately decided it was too funny and needed to be shared on its own. So. Here you go. I do not know why all my fics lately are food-related.

#x files fanfic #the x files #xf fic #xf fanfic #dana scully #fox mulder #msr #xfiles #the xfiles #mulder and scully #my fic #my writing #dailytxf #takeout interruptus

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fewlimit · 5 months

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do ya have more hcs about javier x suho and solitas x lloyd

Get ready for this

Let's start with Javisuho

I'm gonna explain both modern and traditional era but let's start with modern

Javier having a job, I could see it being a model, lawyer or something like that with high salary especially so he could support Kim suho

I want to say they both met on the streets where Kim Suho just accidentally stumble into his photoshoot session but I'm biased so coffee shop would be such a great meetup /hj

At the start of their relationship is just full on Kim suho being so shy on giving PDA and Javier staring down at his boyfriend, patiently waiting for him to finally hold his hand for the past 10 minutes in public

"Why are you still with me? You should've went with someone on your level" x "I would literally kill a man for you and then marry stfu"

I'm sure that Javier would be pretty damn proud of Kim suho beat someone up WITH A REASON, but of course he'll still scold his boyfriend either way

Protective of each other. Mint silver is more protective though

Comfort relationship where they both trust each so much and will be together through thick and thin

Javier would wear jewelry in the modern world because jewelry just matches him, no arguments

My favourite really nothing else to say

Traditional but in my au; Kim Suho was born into the world instead of of Lloyd (Ofc still keeping the name). He was born with a gift of advanced engineering

Them as kids would be inseparable, early on Kim suho(Lloyd) would be so supportive of Javier being the greatest knight and Javier already vow to protect Kim suho(Lloyd) until death do them apart

Honestly, the rest of the family would already caught onto Javier's fascination and feelings towards the oldest son and will be 100% supportive. Especially Julian who looks up to the both of them and wants them to be together

Since Kim Suho's personality shines through, he would have people falling for him more. Like yeah sure he looks average and boring but have you seen how protective he can get for you??

By the time they both got together, everyone already expected it. No surprises.

Imagine how comforting it is to see Kim suho(Lloyd) just helping Javier sleep. Brushing his hair gently as he recite the special lullaby for Javier specifically.

Jealous Kim suho(Lloyd) whenever girls went straight to Javier. Jealous for both side; Jealous of his boyfriend's face and jealous that all these girls are bothering his boyfriend

Less pda than modern au but that doesn't mean they're uncomfortable. It's just that Kim suho(Lloyd) is actually the more busy one. Combine that with hesitation, boom.

I'll add Solilloyd here after I finish more drawings of these ships

#tged #the greatest estate developer #the greatest estate designer #lloyd frontera #webtoon #manhwa #javilloy #tged lloyd #tged javier #javier asrahan #llojavi

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queenimmadolla · 11 months

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𝐁𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐋𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬

(Tattoo Artist!Eddie Munson x Apprentice!Reader)

a/n: my fav little hater was upset about my post getting interactions again so they flagged it to be incorrectly labeled, meaning it's hidden from the majority of people so repost time! there is no mature content in this chapter, suck it. based on my initial post and elements of Breakfast at Tiffany's. next chapters will be significantly juicer, this was just something to get us going. this is dedicated to @munsonology, happy birthday and I hope this year was a good one! and a very gratitude filled thank you to my dear friend, @kitmon, for continuing to be an an amazing beta! hope you guys like it so far ♡ (attempting the keep reading feature, fingers crossed)

word count: 5k

And a large hole in their wallet.

“This is good! This is really good!”

You lifted your chin to peer at the drawing he was fascinated with. Ah.

You grinned, a feeling of giddiness beginning to bubble inside you.

Thanks to her, a suit and tie you no longer spoke to, who made more money than you’ll ever see, was walking around with a secret under his briefs: a pair of shiny cherries on his left ass cheek.

“No,” You lied with a shake of your head, “I haven’t.”

“That’ll change soon,” he laughed, closing your binder as he leaned further over the glass counter. Your gaze briefly flickered to the jewelry it housed.

“You got a number we can reach you at?”

You’d scrawled the number of your landline down on the back of one of their business cards before Argyle could rethink his decision to pass your work along.

“Hopefully, we’ll see you soon!” He called out as you retreated towards the door.

God, I hope so.

You’d learned. Eventually.

Forty-five minutes later, you entered your apartment, sagging back against the door as you dropped your back and kicked your shoes off, unconcerned as to where exactly they’d landed.

Sweat glistened over your skin, and unlike in that last tattoo shop, there was no cool air conditioning to cool you. You and Sid saved that for special occasions.

Instead, you opened the large window to the fire escape, obnoxious sounds of the city you called home filling the apartment.

You’d stolen it and had no regrets because you got to keep your memory and ended up getting food poisoning.

With a shrug, you entered the bathroom for a much needed scrub down and some disassociating. Your mess could wait.

─

Eddie was not in a great mood when he walked into the shop.

“Grumpy?” Argyle asked, amused with the clear annoyance on his face.

Once he’d solidified, he stalked past the front desk, threw his jacket onto the counter and picked up a stack of mail.

“Did I miss anything?” Eddie asked as he flipped through the envelopes, mostly junk.

He’d just finished tossing out the junk mail when he reached for his jacket to hang it up properly and discovered it had been concealing something.

“What’s this?” Eddie asked as he lifted the slim red binder. Looked relatively new.

“Huh?” Argyle glanced up from the sketch he was working on, recognition flashing across his face, “Oh, yeah! We got a prospective new hire, someone dropped off their portfolio.”

Eddie rolled his eyes and heaved out a heavy sigh as his jacket was tossed aside yet again.He had nothing against other tattoo artists, but the last one he’d hired that hadn’t come from his friend group ended up nearly destroying the group.

Henry had been charming, good at his job and charismatic. Turns out, he’d also been a master manipulator and had a particularly abhorrent temper. Tensions had been high, heads were butting and fights had occurred–with a permanent reminder in the wall near the front entrance where a large hole had been punched through the wall. Henry had to go.