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#but i thought of it while watching again for the third time
saber-monet · 2 days
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STEVE RODGERS x BUCKY BARNES x reader
It’s just straight up smut. penetration, breeding, tiny bit of cnc.
Context : Steve and Bucky have been your closest guy friends since high school . And one night and you all go drinking out together …
All three of us were tipsy and laughing together, and they invited me to their place nearby to keep our buzz going. We put on music while we flirted, danced, and got handsy. After a couple hours, Steve started kissing me and stroking my clit through my panties as we lounged on the couch. My pussy spread for his fingers as soon as he slid the panties aside. Bucky watched, stroking himself. Dizzy with desire and drink, it was only moments before Bucky was holding my thighs open and Steve was thrusting gently inside me. Nervous and unbelievably wet, I moaned as he fucked me with a bare cock. “Fuck, you feel so good… but we shouldn’t be doing this…”’’
“Don’t worry.” Bucky pinned my shoulders down, and Steve leaned forward and pushed gently, but firmly, into my bare cunt. “It’s okay, I’m gonna cum soon…”
“You’re so deep… please, not inside,” I begged. My mind raced at the thought, but I didn’t move to stop him.
“Yes, I’m gonna cum inside you. I always wanted to. Fuck, yeah… cumming in your pussy feels so fucking good…” His cock throbbed inside and he continued to gently fuck his load in. I groaned in pleasure, spread wide in front of him, Bucky still holding me down, cum spilling out as Steve caught his breath. When he pulled away, Bucky rolled me face down on the sofa, kneeling behind my spread legs. His cock slid in my pussy easily and I cried out again, “Oh god, wait… I can’t do this…” Steve began jerking off to the sight of his cum dripping down my legs as Bucky fucked his friend’s load in and out of me.
“We’re not done.” Bucky held onto my shoulders as he fucked hard into me. The euphoria of being taken made my heart pound. “We’re gonna fill up your pussy over and over,” he groaned, as his cock pulsed and began to fill me again.
“No… you can’t,” I moaned weakly, pussy holding on tight as he emptied into me. “Don’t cum in me, I’m fertile right now…” I heard them both laugh.
“Fuck, yeah, you’re gonna get pregnant with us tonight.” One more deep push, and his load oozed out around his cock buried in me. I shuddered, tingling inside, scared I would cum and yet desperate for it. Bucky pulled away and again Steve turned me around and sat me down in his lap. His cock slid in all at once, and we groaned in unison. Forehead to forehead, my clit rubbed against his thrusts and I knew I didn’t have long. He saw it too.
“Are you gonna cum for us?” All I could do was nod, holding onto him for stability as he forced me toward orgasm. “Good girl. That’s so fucking good. Open up that womb for us…” I was shaking and moaning as I came, a mixture of cum dripping out of me. “Are you ready for another load? Nice and deep inside your sweet pussy…” With my cunt tightening down, he slid to the deepest part of me and poured himself inside me again. My sloppy pussy milked him while he held my hips tight against his, kissing me as he tried to impregnate me. They kept passing me back and forth all night, making me cum and then filling my pussy with their loads, watching it spill out of me and then fucking it back inside me.
“Such a pretty little pussy full of our cum.”
“You’re gonna have our baby, aren’t you?”
“That’s the third time you’ve made me cum, baby.”
“Can you feel us inside your womb?”
“Good girl, cumming while we breed you.”
“Of course I’m gonna fill you up, that’s why you’re here.”
“I almost fucked you in high school, now I’m knocking you up.”
“You’re gonna stay with us and give us your pussy everyday.”
“You’d make such a good wife for us.”
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she's mean, and he loves her for it.
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summary: your peers wonder how the ever-so-annoying gojo satoru can stand being in a relationship with you pairing: sunshine!gojo satoru x grumpy!female reader genre: angst, fluff warnings: none
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"Did you guys know Gojo-sensei is dating-" Nobara looks around left and right before whispering your name in fear that you might be around.
"Ehhh?" Yuuji's eyebrows knit together. "No way. She's so scary and he's so...happy."
Nobara agrees, "She never smiles -- kinda looks like she has a permanent frown, too. She scares me."
"You think maybe she intimidated him to date her?"
Megumi watches as his two friends bicker about whether you and Satoru look good together, not realizing that you've heard everything they said. Megumi notices you've arrived to teach them and clears his throat, catching the attention of his two friends. He glances at you to check how you're doing after hearing what they said, but as expected, you remain professional and stoic. But Megumi knows better, he grew up under your and Satoru's wings after all.
"Shit." Nobara and Yuuji mutter under their breaths.
-----
It's fairly common for people to question your relationship with Satoru. He's this... happy-go-lucky guy who annoys everyone except those on the same wavelength as him, while you keep to yourself, prioritizing your alone time, and taking things seriously.
Sometimes, too serious.
You never let it get to you, though, because you don't really care what people say. You and Satoru are happy, that's all that matters. Until recently, when those jerk Kyoto students came over to train, they started talking about you and Satoru.
"She's so serious all the time, I don't understand how Gojo puts up with her."
"I think he's scared to breakup with her."
"I bet she's high maintenance."
"Honestly, why is he with her when he can be with someone who's... not so difficult?"
You grit your teeth at that last comment. You can't tell who said what, but it doesn't matter. Their words got to your head and now you're angry. Angry because you're scared they might be right.
Does Satoru think you're difficult? You're not entirely sure how to show them that yes, you deserve Satoru despite being the dark, grumpy person you are.
Sighing, you decide to go home instead of joining the dinner. Satoru's not in there anyway, he just got back from a mission and is waiting for you at home.
Once you close the door to your apartment, you immediately feel Satoru's arm envelope around you from behind. He smells like fresh mint -- just got out of the shower.
"Hi darling," he kisses your cheek.
"Hi, Toru." You take your shoes off and give him a quick peck before making your way to the bedroom to put your stuff down.
Satoru watches you slowly, "hm, aren't you supposed to have that dinner with the Kyoto students today?"
Your jaw clenches, taking a second before shrugging. "Decided to skip it. I'm tired."
He just hums, "In that case, you wanna watch Bridgerton with me after your shower?"
"Again?" You groan, "Isn't it like the third time you've watched it?"
"Yes, and?"
"I'll skip, thanks."
He blows a raspberry and leaves you to shower while he lays down on the couch to watch Anthony Bridgerton fall in love with his Kate Sheffield.
While you were in the shower, the words kept coming back to you. Somehow more exaggerated. You're difficult. He doesn't like you. He's just tolerating you. Why would he be with someone who doesn't even smile? Look at him, Gojo is the epitome of sunshine. You're nothing like him. Why would he like you?
Groaning, you let the hot water wash away your thoughts -- though they don't really go away. Maybe you should just try to be nicer to Satoru, be more cheerful.
After your shower, you see him lying down on the couch while watching his show, and you sit on the other end, silently dreading having to watch the same show again. But you're doing this for Satoru, so you will.
With a satisfied grin, Satoru saunters over and lies down on top of you, his head resting on your chest. You smile softly, enjoying the tight grip he has on you and his soft hair between your fingers.
"How was the mission?" You ask, "Did you have to go to Shoko?"
Satoru shakes his head, "Sweetheart, it's me we're talking about here."
"You can still get hurt, Toru." You pat his hair gently, "I've seen you bleed."
"I'm always careful. Don't worry." He kisses your hand.
You sigh softly. You know Satoru is always careful, it's just that he always goes on missions alone, and more often nowadays that it makes you worry. Yes, he's the strongest, but you never want to take that for granted.
"Toru," You call him again, a little hesitant, "You know I love you, right?"
He lifts his head from your chest, staring at you with those big blue eyes. "Of course. And I love you. So much."
He kisses you deeply, now switching positions so you're lying down on top of him. "So do you want to talk about it?"
"No.." You mumble. Of course, Satoru knows. He isn't stupid. He can sense when something's wrong with you, just like how you can feel the scar on his hip that wasn't there before. He did go to Shoko.
But none of you say anything. You just hold each other tighter that night. It's more than enough.
-----
Satoru is on another mission. It's supposed to be easy, at least that's what he said 3 days ago. You haven't heard from him at all in 3 days and you're beginning to worry. Your frown is deeper than usual, you sigh more often, and your fuse is shorter.
Everyone's more scared of you.
You let the kids take a break while you try to collect your thoughts. You can't be seen so distracted, not when Satoru left you in charge of them.
"You doing okay?" You hear Megumi's voice approach you.
Blinking away the tears that almost fell, you turn around to face him. "I'm fine, Megs."
"I told you not to call me that..." He sulks as he stands next to you, leaning against the wall. He can see you're distraught, and growing up with you, there's only been a handful of times he's seen you like this.
"You know he's going to be fine, right?"
You sigh. "I'm just worried."
You remember there was a day when Satoru didn't come back for a week. He couldn't be reached, no one could track him down, and you were just at home, taking care of Megumi. The boy's more like you than Satoru, he's not exactly sensitive or cheery. But he knows when you're feeling sad, so he'd stay up with you, praying for Satoru's safety.
"Guys!" Yuuji runs towards you and Megumi.
"What is it, Yuuji?"
"It's Gojo-sensei-" He pants, "He's back!"
You run as fast as you can with Yuuji and Megumi, and you can finally see your white-haired, blue-eyed boyfriend limping his way back to the school grounds.
He raises his hand and waves to you with a big smile despite struggling to walk. "Tsk-" You frown even more, feeling the tears pooling again as you walk towards him and catch him in an embrace.
"Umph-" He groans. "Hi, baby."
You let go of him and check his injuries -- he's healed most of it himself, thank goodness, but the bruises are still there. "We need to go to Shoko-"
"Mm, that can wait." He pulls you to sit down on the soft grass, hugging you once again. "It's okay, I'm here now."
You choke on your own sobs and hug him tighter, sitting between his legs and burying your head in his chest. "You idiot."
"'M sorry for makin' you worry," he smiles gently, leaving kisses all over your face.
As you cup his face in your hands, you're suddenly very aware of the 3 pairs of eyes staring at you both. Noticing it too, Satoru covers your red, embarrassed face. "Okay, nothing to watch here. Go.. do something. Scram. Skedaddle."
Once the kids are gone, you examine his face before pressing your lips to his. He's here now. He's back. He's safe. "What took you so long?"
A smirk lingers on Satoru's lips. "I took a detour to Kyoto and went to teach some kids a lesson."
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mountainsandmayhem · 2 days
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Shhh...Just A Little Bit More
Part Three (Spicy Version)
DBF!Joel x Female!Reader - 18+
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Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 (Soft Version)
Summary: Joel Miller caught you working where you shouldn't be after you promised to quit. Now he's taking matters into his own hands. Word Count 5.7k
CW: DBF!, Dom!, SoftDom!, use of nicknames (baby, sweet pea, baby girl etc.), Sub/Dom, DD/LG, use of toys and a riding crop. no use of y/n. no description of reader except for piercings. Praise, degradation. After care.
AN: THANK YOU for all your love on parts 1 and 2. This is the spicy version of the third part. I'd love to hear which part you liked best!
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“Hey, buddy. It’s Joel.”
“Joel?” You can hear your dad’s muffled and panicked voice through the receiver. “Where’s my daughter? Why do you have her phone? It’s 5 am!” 
“Remember that time Sarah ran away to your house and you told me that one day I might be doing the same for you?” 
Your dad is silent for a while, a distorted higher pitched voice filters through before you hear your dad again, “It’s alright honey. She’s with Joel.” He lets out a deep sigh before adding, “I thought we skipped the rebellious phase with her.”
“She’s a good girl. I think she just needs some time to cool off.” Joel says, his voice is friendly and light.
You squeeze your thighs together and nuzzle deeper into Joel’s throat. You know what you need, and it isn’t to cool off. He and your dad have been friends since the day he moved in down the street. You were seven and Sarah was eleven, you thought she was the coolest person on the planet. Wonder what she’d think of you now, cuddled up against her dad after he just edged the fuck out of you after spanking you in an alleyway. You’re lost in your thoughts as Joel talks with your parents for a while.
A sane person would stop being so turned on right now. Fuck, I need Joel. So badly. Maybe I should rile him up some more. 
“I’ll come by this afternoon,” Joel hugs you tighter, bringing you back to the conversation. “Ya, if she wants to, I’ll bring her. She’s ok, just never seen her more - frustrated.” 
You squeeze his side, knowing he’s smirking about how frustrated and needy you truly are right now. He hangs up the phone and brings his lips to yours, kissing you harder this time. You moan into his mouth, hands roaming up his body to tangle in his hair. 
Holy shit, Joel Miller is kissing me. 
As you run your nails along his scalp he lets out a pleasurable sounding gasp and a small shiver racks his body. Oh, he likes that, he likes that very much. 
Got ya, you think to yourself. 
He pulls away to see you smiling at him. “This is why I usually tie naughty girls down,” his voice is completely different from how it was just moments ago; deeper and more commanding. It reverberates through you - right to your pussy. “Because they think they’ve found spots that will get them what they want. Let’s go home now, darlin’.” 
The front door hasn’t even closed before Joel is hoisting you over his shoulder roughly, kicking the door closed as you squeal, his calloused hands gripping the back of your thighs as your stomach rests across his broad shoulder. 
Fuck his ass looks good from this angle. 
“You know I’m not done punishing you yet, right?” He growls, toeing off his boots and taking you to the basement. 
When Sarah was old enough, she’d occasionally babysit you. You remember there being a locked room in the basement, she said she didn’t know what was in there, but you were obsessed with finding out. You asked Joel mercilessly what he was hiding back there and he never responded in more than a grunt or a sarcastic comment like “that’s where I lock up kids who don’t shut up.” 
Joel grabs a key off the holder at the bottom of the stairs and heads straight for that mysterious locked door. The key scrapes against the door knob, you crane your neck to see as he flicks on the light. 
Holy. Fucking. Shitballs. Joel Miller has a sex room. 
“Watch your mouth,” he grumbles as he drops you onto the large metal framed bed. 
Did I say that out loud? 
He stalks away from you towards a large black cabinet, rolling the sleeves of his button up flannel to his elbows. It’s almost concerning how much that simple action turns you on. Maybe you should go back to church, your mom would be so proud. 
You’re intrigued to look around, curious as to what else is around you in this large room, but everything about Joel’s presence draws you in. Freezes you in time. You belong to him, or so he implied when he said he was your Dom now. 
He slides the door of the large black cabinet open just enough to reach in. Your curiosity is bubbling to the surface and just as you’re about to ask he looks at you darkly. 
“Did you come on the drive home?”
Every bump on the drive home had you twitching. You tried your hardest not to gasp and moan but the combination of the gravel road, your insane state of heightened arousal, and the lack of underwear in your stiff denim shorts were all working against you. 
“No, Joel.” Your eyes dance around his hands, trying to see what he took out of the cabinet. 
His jaw flexes, “It’s Mr Miller. Not Joel.” His chin juts towards the corner of the room across from him as he says, “go kneel in that corner. Face the wall and don’t move.” 
You practically leap off the bed and scramble to the corner as Joel mumbles, “So fuckin’ eager,” under his breath. 
On your way to the corner you see all sorts of ropes, chains, paddles and whips hanging from the walls. There's a large wooden x with cuffs leaning against another wall and beside the corner he’s told you to go to there’s a strange looking bench, almost like a gymnastics horse, that also has cuffs. You might be way in over your head here. 
You kneel down in the corner, the carpet is soft and luxurious under your knees as you rest your bum down onto your heels. 
“No, on your knees. Hands above your head on the wall.” Joel barks, making you jump and your pussy flutter. Joel opens and closes some more doors, you hear things being moved around and just as your hands start to go numb above you, you feel his heat at your back. 
“I’m going to finish your punishment now little one,” he rasps. “Have you ever been a sub before?” 
“N-no. Mr Miller. I’m sorry,” you voice trembles. Nervous and excited energy are battling inside you for first place. 
“Don’t be sorry, babygirl. What do you say if you want me to stop?” His strong hands grip your hair, gathering it up in a low ponytail before tying a long ribbon around it. 
“Umm..” you rack your brain. Before his sadistic little countdown he told you to say something if you wanted to stop.
“Cowboy,” you finally say, slightly uncertain until he hums a sultry ‘that’s right’ behind you, his hands grabbing the hem of your shirt before pulling it up and over your head. 
The cool basement air hits your exposed skin and you find yourself arching your back towards Joel’s warm body. Your nipples turn to stiff peaks at the combination of the temperature shift and the anticipation of what’s coming next. 
Your hands fall back to your sides as your shirt glides past your fingertips. Without missing a beat, Joel hits right below your shoulder blade gently with a riding crop. The sound of the soft black leather end against your skin is louder than the pain, but it still burns slightly as you gasp and your arms fly back up to the wall.
“Don’t be stupid, baby. The more you don’t listen, the more I will hurt you. And you are already here because you didn’t listen.” He trails the riding crop around the pink mark forming on your back. “Stand up, but keep your hands above you.” 
You plant one white slip-on van on the carpet and drag the toe of the other as you stand, hands sliding up the red satin wallpaper that lines the room. The soft leather of the crop traces down the black strap of your lace bra, across the back band and then up the other strap. 
“Use one hand and undo the clasp, sweet pea.” You drop your right hand and bring it behind your back. Popping the metal clasp open with a shaky thumb and forefinger. Before you can put your hand back, Joel grabs your wrist and places the crop in your fist before raising it back up above you. His rough fingers graze your back, goosebumps line your skin as your head falls forward and you hum out in pleasure. 
His hands glide around to the front of your body and trail up, pushing under the cups of your bra to squeeze your tits. He stops dead as they land heavy in his palms. 
“Holy fuck, drop the crop and take this bra off right now. Let me see them,” his voice is thick with arousal at what he’s found. 
You do as he says, the crop hitting the soft carpet with a thud. You spin and let your bra fall from your arms. Showing him the golden barbells, and the thin golden hearts that surround each nipple. 
Joel practically snarls as he dives in to kiss you, his tongue parting your lips and making room for him to devour you. “Are those healed?” He asks through the kiss. 
“They’re sort of new,” you say into his mouth. “Six weeks ago.” 
“Fuuuuck, you’re gonna kill me,” his hands hurry to the buttons on your shorts. He rips them down your legs, kneeling in front of you to slide off your shoes. His face is now level with your achy cunt. It’s been throbbing since he spanked you and now he’s so very close. 
He stops to stare at it, then gently uses his thumbs to pull your soaked lips again. He clicks his tongue, “too bad you didn’t listen. She looks swollen and sooo wet,” his thumb barely grazes the wet flesh before he looks up at you as he sucks off the juices. “Mmm - and sweet. But bad girls don’t get rewards.” He lays a quick slap across your clit and you nearly collapse at the sensation. 
The pain. 
The heat. 
The pleasure. 
He smirks down at you as he stands. You crane your neck to look at him, gasping for breath as the pleasure ebbs between your legs. 
“You like pain, don’t you?” He asks. 
A sly closed lip smile crosses your face as you nod quietly. You do like pain, but you’ve never had someone as experienced as Joel before. He spanked you harder than you ever have been before, pushing and testing your limits. While you enjoyed it, and can’t fucking wait to do it again, you aren’t sure if you can handle all these whips, crops, canes and ropes. 
Cowboy. Just say cowboy. 
He steps away, leaving you completely bare in the corner. He stops at the foot of the bed, the things he’s pulled out of the cabinet rest flat on top of the sheets but you can’t make out what’s there. He slides his flannel off and drops it to the floor. You swallow hard at the way his tight shirt hugs his body, you swear you can see every muscle that lines his chest and abdomen through it. He doesn’t leave you guessing for long, one hand reaching behind himself, grabbing his shirt by the nape of the neck before peeling it from his hard body. You squeeze your thighs at the sight of him. 
Joel Miller: Greek God. 
He leans against the tall post at the foot of the bed, crossing his thick arms over his chest. His biceps bulge and suddenly you find it hard to breathe. He is fucking beautiful. 
“Crawl to me, and bring the crop,” his voice is rough as he commands you. 
You get onto your hands and knees and look over at the crop and then back towards Joel, looking up through your lashes. “Think about it for a second,” he says. 
You bend down and pick the crop up with your teeth. “There’s my smart girl,” he praises as you crawl. You’re so wet that your thighs slide effortlessly against one another. You stop in front of him and he reaches down to tilt your chin up to meet his gaze. He’s looking at you with an immense sense of pride, you’d do anything to have him look at you like that and when he throws in a warm ‘good girl’ you’re done for. His. His brat. His good girl. His submissive. Just his. 
He takes the crop from your teeth and then walks behind you. “Arch your back,” he presses the leather end into your lower back, guiding you, teasing you, showing you what he wants and how he wants it. 
“Spread your legs, babygirl,” he whispers, again gently pressing the crop to your inner thighs as you spread for him before he slowly drags the soft leather from your clit to your backside. You whimper at the much needed attention. “Good girl. See how much better it is when you listen.” 
You relax your head, letting it fall as you moan. Close. So very close. The leather meets your chin next. “Eyes up, I need you to stay like this for me. Ok?” 
“Yes Mr Miller,” you gasp, holding your head high, looking straight ahead at the metal bed frame that’s lined with hooks and rings. “Anything for you.” 
The riding crop trails down your neck and spine as he walks back behind you. “That right, darlin’?” He says, almost afraid to admit how much those three little words have affected him. You. Offering him anything. 
You let out an agreeable moan before he strikes you twice, each snap of the crop hitting the exactly same spot. 
Joel Miller: Greek God and Accurate Riding Crop Sniper.  
Ok, you’ll have to work on the name. 
The sting takes a bit longer to turn into that pleasurable tingly heat that you love than when he spanked you. Keeping your back arched and head up is already proving to be a challenge, and then he traces your cunt and asshole again with the leather and you’re practically shaking. Closer. Much closer. 
He does it again. Striking one cheek, then the other, quickly followed by a quick slap to the back of your thigh. You cry out in pain, until the leather slides over your soaked clit and the sounds turn downright pornographic. 
“Why am I punishing you?” He demands, tapping your clit lightly and rapidly. 
“I - mmmm - I didn’t q-quit,” you moan. 
“Wrong,” he hits you again. Five quick, sharp snaps, alternating between ass cheeks. Then he slides up and down your folds again. 
Pain
Pleasure.
Sparkling burning heat. 
“M’gonna come,” you mumble and Joel pulls away. You cry out in protest as he lowers himself to the floor, a large warm hand gently rubbing your sore cheek. 
“You come when I say,” his lips land on every spot he’s hit you, but not the spot you need him the most. “Now why am I punishing you?” 
Your mind is mush, overrun by the overwhelming need to orgasm. You didn’t quit. He wants you to and you didn’t. That’s why he’s hitting you. 
“I don’t know Mr Miller,” you whine. His hand trails up the soft skin of your inner thigh, your legs tremble under his touch and you fight against your shaking arms to keep your body how he wants it. 
“No?” He says with a smirk. “On your elbows, forehead on the floor.” 
“I’m sorry,” you say as you get into his new required position. 
“You should be,” he stands and walks towards the bed. Leaving your ass up and on display. “You lied and snuck out, then after your spanking tonight you stayed at work for another two hours. You also used my marks to make money. You, my sweet girl, are a brat.” He’s practically growling by the time he finishes, settling himself behind you. “That’s why I’m punishing you.” 
Deep down Joel knows he should stop. Not for the obvious reasons: best friend's daughter, twenty years younger, four years younger than his own daughter. But because he hasn’t had a real conversation with you yet about your hard and soft limits. Didn’t even ask if you wanted to be his sub. But your smooth little ass is up in the air, pussy glistening in the dim light of his sex room and nothing but your pleasure matters anymore. 
You swallow hard, “I’m sorry for being a brat, Mr Miller.” 
“I don’t think you are,” he says and you hear the distinct sound of a cap of lube opening behind you. “I think that you have enjoyed yourself so much that you’re going to be back on that corner waiting for an Uber to take you to work tonight. You want me to come after you. Because you are a little slut with a very greedy pussy.” 
Something cool presses against your soaked entrance and you cry out as he continues, “so I’ll tell you what. You can go to work tonight, but you’ll have to do it my way,” slowly that cool something slides inside of you, filling you slightly but it’s not enough. “Fuck, practically sucked it in, babygirl.” 
You can feel it, a hard ball that’s pushing right against your g spot, a slender piece staying outside your body for easy removal. “That is going to stay in until I take it out. It vibrates, and if you don’t behave…I will turn it on.” 
His large, rough hands grip you by the hips and pull you back so your ass is flush against his body, his cock stiff as nails under his jeans. “It’s time to get some sleep, sweetheart. Get in the bed, please.” 
“But…” you pout into the plush carpet. “Please, Mr Miller.” 
“What did I say? Bad girls don’t get rewarded. Come on,” he taps your hip. “Bed.” 
You stand up on shaky legs, thankful that the best is only two steps ahead of you. But the toy inside of you has you feeling like a powder keg on the edge of exploding. Joel pulls the covers back and climbs in with you, pulling you in to rest your head on his chest. His arm drapes around your body, the other resting behind his head. 
“How are you feeling after tonight?” He whispers, using an app on his phone to turn the lights off. 
“Horny,” you whisper, burying yourself deeper into his neck. 
“I know. But you know I can’t make you come, right? I can’t reward you for this behaviour.” His lips fall to your hairline, two light lingering kisses melting you further into him. 
“What can I do, Mr Miller?” The moment the last syllable of his name leaves your lips the vibrator comes to life inside of you. “Oh god - thank you. Thank you.” Your body twitches against his, your leg coming to drape across him as you subconsciously hump and grind into his hip. 
“That feel good, baby?” He asks, holding you tighter against his strong body. 
“Yes. Yes. Hnnnng, yes.” You grind harder, your arousal coating his hip and leg, your clit sliding along him with ease now. “Joel, please.” 
Shit. He should punish you for calling him Joel but you’re so goddamn beautiful as you start to fall apart and he can’t hold back any longer. He’s let other subs go days without an orgasm, he’s gotten off to them begging and crying for relief. But you. You sound so damn sweet to his ears and he can’t stand to see you like this anymore. 
He has you flipped onto your back, trapped under his weight before you can even register what’s happening. He’s kissing you deeply, tongue taking what it wants as your legs kick and shake under him. 
“Please!” You cry between kisses. 
His thick fingers sliding between your puffy folds before grabbing the end of the vibrator, you scream out as he pulls the toy from you. 
“Shhh…just a little bit more. I’m going to make it better now,” he says gently, kissing down your neck, swirling his tongue around each nipple piercing. 
“Please. Please. Pleeeaase, Mr Miller. Please. It hurts. I need it, please.” You’re a mumbling mess and the words leaving your lips are practically incomprehensible. 
“I know. Relax baby. Breathe.” He says between kisses down your sternum, his tongue tracing your curves. When he finally settles in between your thighs he swallows hard, he wants to dive right in, make you drench his face as you come. “Look at me, darlin’.” 
His warm breath hits your pussy and you fight your hips from bucking up to his face as prop yourself up on an elbow and try to focus your eyesight on him. You didn’t know it was possible to be so turned on that you practically had tequila vision. 
His voice is serious yet calm as he says, “I’m going to make you come using my fingers and my tongue. Is that ok?” 
You nod your head and a faint ‘yes’, leaves your lips. He doesn’t want to ask permission, and next time he won’t. But right now he needs to know you’re ok with this. 
“Can I lick and touch both the outside and inside of this beautiful, weeping, pussy?” 
It starts to hit you that Joel Miller would never do something you didn’t want and that sets your soul on fire. He cares. About you. Only you. Wants to do things for you. You are not a burden here. 
“Yes, Mr Miller. Please. Touch me.” The room suddenly feels twenty degrees hotter, you can feel sweat beading on your skin. 
“That’s my girl,” he says, sliding his ring and middle finger around your desperate entrance. You cry out, dropping your body to the bed. 
Pleasure. Overwhelming pleasure. 
“No no baby girl, eyes on me.” 
You somehow muster the strength to raise yourself onto shaky arms. His two strong fingers slide deep into your heat with minimal resistance and you immediately start gasping. 
Pleasure. Life altering, heart stopping pleasure. 
“Fuuuuck. Baby. So tight. Have you ever squirted before?” His cheeks are flushed with need. He might be the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen. 
Your breasts rise and fall with your ragged breaths. You shake your head and moan out a ‘no’. 
He smiles down at your dripping cunt, “I can feel it. Gotta relax for me. Just breathe and let it happen.” 
Nerves flutter in your stomach and then he curls his fingers forward, putting so much pressure on a soft spongy spot that you didn’t know existed until today. On instinct, your knees try to close but his wide frame keeps you open. You yell his name to the ceiling, as all the air whooshes from your lungs. 
“Breathe baby,” he says as he curls his fingers once, twice, three more times. You can hear how wet you are and the pressure becomes unbearable. Stars start to blur your vision, the walls of your pussy squeeze tightly around his fingers and then it’s just a blur. A blur of all consuming pleasure and you turn into a boneless, mumbling mess. 
“That’s it. That’s my girl. Come for me. Soak me. Good girl,” Joel’s free hand pressed down on your mound as a wet heat leaks all over you. “Good fuckin’ girl. Let go for me.” 
You’re not sure if you’re screaming or not, all you hear and feel is Joel. Everything is Joel. Strong hands, deep gravel voice, warm vanilla smell. He’s everywhere and you never want it to stop. 
“Keep going. That’s it. You look so beautiful,” he says, licking a long stripe up your fluttering pussy, drinking and slurping up your juices. “Oooh yeah - gooood giiirrll”
Almost immediately after your orgasm crests it becomes too much. You’re so overstimulated that it hurts and your moans of pleasure become cries of pain. You forget your name, where you are, you even forget your safe word. But Joel knows, he always knows. 
He stops pumping his fingers and says your name, “look at me sweet pea.”
You blink slowly, you’re wrecked, barely able to keep your eyelids open, almost convinced they’ve been replaced with steel. You’re sucking in air, did you not breathe that entire time? 
“Breathe baby, you’re ok.” He says, stilling his fingers until you’re ready. 
“I’m sorry, Mr Miller. I know I called you Joel. I won’t do it again.” 
So fucking cute. “It’s ok, darlin’ girl. I want you to let loose when you come.” He places a few light kisses along your thighs. The sheets and his bare chest are soaked. “I’m gonna pull my fingers out.” 
You fall back to the bed and fist the sheets to ground yourself as he slides his fingers out. “You did such a good job,” he praises as you whimper at the loss of his fingers inside of you. 
He crawls up your body, placing his strong forearms beside your head, moving any hair that has escaped the ribbon from your face. “I’m so proud of you, babygirl.”
“Fuck me,” you mumble. 
He grins down at you. “That’s my little slut,” he says darkly, ripping his jeans and underwear off, kissing you hard and rough - just how you like it. His hard cock lands heavy on your clit and you cry out into his mouth. “You sure about this?” He says cockily. 
“Fuck me, Mr Miller. Please. I need your -,” he slams deep inside you, hips flush against yours. He’s so deep you swear you can feel it behind your navel. The girth of him giving you a painful but pleasurable stretch, “oh god. I’m gonna come again.” 
“Squeeze me, baby. Yell out. Show me what I do to you,” he hooks your knees in his elbows to get deeper. Hips grinding and slamming into yours. “So goddamn good. So tight. Give it to me, little one.” 
The heat in your belly snaps as you come apart for him again. Every muscle goes limp and pliant as he folds you in half, knees practically behind your head like some sort of tantric pretzel. The walls of your pussy clamp down on his dick as cry out in pained moans. Before your orgasm has even tapered off he’s slipping out of you and flipping you around. 
“Hands and knees, like you were on the floor.” He practically yells it at you, like a drill sergeant. 
You don’t have the cognitive ability to even know what your arms or legs are, lying on your belly down in the puddle you created earlier. 
“Can’t,” you moan before the sharp snap of the riding crop hits your ass. Adrenaline spikes as you start to find your arms, bringing them beside you to push up. Another three quick strikes hit your backside. “Fuck. Stop, Joel. Please.” 
He strikes you again. You most definitely do not want him to stop and you already know that he loves when you beg. “It huuuurts,” you gasp as you bring yourself up to your knees. Your all wobbly limbs, like a newborn giraffe, and panting breaths as he hits six quick strikes down your thigh. Crying out with each one, “I’m sorry. I’ll be good. Please just stop.” 
“You should see how your pussy clenches with each hit, my little masochist,” he praises, moving to punish the other thigh in the same way he did the other one. “You could come from this, couldn’t you?”
“No. It hurts. I’m sorry, daddy.” 
Joel stops. The word daddy suspended in the air between you. Fuck, it just slipped out. You’ve never said it to a man before and now you wish you could just crawl into a little hole and die alone. 
“Oh babygirl,” he says proudly, coming up behind you and rubbing his dick up and down your wet pussy. “Do you like that? Calling me daddy?” 
“It slipped out. I’m sorry Mr Miller,” you desperately want to bury your face in the pillows but you keep your head held high, just like he wants you too. 
“Tell daddy to fuck you,” he says, his hand grabbing the base of your tied back hair. 
“F-fuck me, daddy,” you say in the sweetest and most innocent sounding voice you can muster.
With one snap of his hips he’s fully inside of you, his hand pulls at your hair. You scalp tingling and burning, only adding to the pleasure building again in between your legs. 
“You like it rough. Don’t you, little one?” You moan out in agreement, “like it when daddy fucks you this deep. Like it when daddy is in your belly. Don’t you?” 
“Oh god. Oh god. Oh god.” It’s like you’re a broken record, unable to come up with anything except moans, cries and ‘oh god’s’. 
Joel’s hand moves from your hair to between your shoulder blades and pushes down. A silent command for you to rest your chest on the bed. You do as he says, “good fuckin girl. You want me to fuck you while I use the crop? Is that what you want my little pain slut?” 
“Yes please, Mr Miller,” you gasp, hands fisting the sheets, muscles clenching as you prepare for what’s about to happen. 
The pace at which he’s fucking you continues. He’s fast and rough, his balls slapping against your pussy with each trust. The crop hits the bottom of one of your feet first, then just to the right of your left shoulder blade. 
“Not gonna stop until you use that safeword. Brats don’t get rewards,” He fucks up into you a few more times as he swats at the front of your thigh. 
Blinding heat and pleasure start to course through you as you come again. “My little masochist,” he says again, pulling back to slap at your ass as you come on his cock. Tears blur your vision, you want to stop but you want to make him proud. You feel his dick getting harder, twitching slightly. 
Just a few more minutes, you think to yourself. Until he strikes you harder than all the other times. The sound of leather on your skin fills your ears and you pull away from him, “COWBOY!!” 
You collapse into the sheets as Joel turns away, unable to stop his orgasm and wanting to be respectful of your need to stop. He cums into the sheets with his hand, biting back your name from leaving his lips. 
He turns to find you facedown, red and purple marks already forming. “Baby,” he whispers, his hand coming to caress your lower back. You flinch under his touch. 
Fuck, I went to hard. 
“Shhh, relax. It’s over now. Let me take care of you.” He sees you visibly melt into the mattress, and why wouldn’t you. His voice is soft and gentle as his fingers trail up and down your spine. “I’m so proud of you for using your safeword. Can you roll over for me?” 
You do as he says, using any last ounce of energy to roll over. He shuffles himself to sit on the edge of the bed, lifting your upper body to help you prop up in some pillows, your eyelids are impossibly heavy. He reaches into the small mini fridge that’s disguised as a bedside table and takes out a bottle of water. 
“I need you to drink this, honey. Then I will put some coconut oil on those marks. Ok?” 
You open your eyes as he cracks the water. He looks wrecked. Beads of sweat line his hairline, curls sticking to his forehead, but fuck is he beautiful. 
Joel Miller. Sex God. 
“How are you feeling?” He asks as he slides his boxers back up his leg, his still half hard cock pressing against the fabric. 
You’re suddenly unable to stop from giggling. You feel giddy and drunk as you down the water and say, “I feel fucking amazing!” 
Joel shakes his head and lets out a little laugh. “Good,” he says, pressing his lips to your forehead. He pulls makeup wipe out from the bedside drawer and wipes the mascara that’s run down your cheeks. Then he finds himself doing something he’s never done with his other subs. He grabs the coconut oil and reaches a hand out to help you off the bed. 
“Let’s go get some sleep,” he says. Steading you and leading you up the stairs to his room. This is dangerous territory, but he needs to wake up with you. Cherish you. Care for you. Other subs always slept down here. Never in his room and rarely with him. But certainly never ever in his room. 
You follow with shaky legs and nearly collapse onto his bed when you get there. 
“Can we do that again?” You ask as he rubs oil on your tender backside. 
“Fuck yes. But before we do that,” he taps your side and you roll over so he can oil your thigh. “You need to fill out some paperwork.” 
You groan and he lets out a deep laugh. “I promise it’s fun paperwork. Hard and soft limits. Things you want to try.” 
He looks up at you with adoration, mirroring the looks you’re giving him. He nods towards your pierced nipples, “I like those. Very sexy. As soon as they’re healed we are gonna have some fun.” 
You blush, “thanks. You’re - umm, you’re actually the first person to see them.” 
“That right?” He says proudly, lying down beside you and pulling you into his chest. 
“I have an appointment at the piercer next week. Any requests?” You say teasingly as you nuzzle into his chest. Your appointment is to get a second hole in each ear lobe, but may as well have a little fun.
“Hmmm,” he hums, lips grazing your hairline with little kisses. “Belly button.” 
“Oh, I was thinking of doing my clit.” You glance up at him through your eyelashes, bottom lip between your teeth. 
“Fuck me, baby. You tryin’ to kill this old man? I’m gonna have to leave the goddamn continent while that heals.” He pulls you in tighter, pulling the blanket up around both of you. “Get some rest now, we have a big afternoon.”
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entitled-fangirl · 2 days
Text
The astronomy professor.
Severus Snape x Lupin!reader (past James Potter x reader)
Summary: it's Harry's third year, and the reader is beyond excited that her brother is becoming the boy's professor. When the two siblings goof off together before one of their classes, the reader realizes just how much she's grown attached to Snape.
Warnings: Death, grief, guilt, fighting, talks of threatening behavior, etc.
Author's note: I'm planning on working on the next piece of "His betrothed" soon! Also... maybe a Remus Lupin x reader???
Masterlist
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Severus scowled at the other end of the professors table in the Great Hall, while next to him, Y/N smiled brightly.
They had both had quite different viewpoints of the newest DADA professor.
Remus Lupin.
Being a Lupin herself, she was beyond excited that her older brother was coming to teach.
And he was quite excited to be there as well.
The two were close during their time at Hogwarts. She was often seen flitting around the Marauders like a pesky gnat.
None of them ever thought of her as pesky though. 
She was Remus' younger sister, and therefore, their own younger sister.
And throughout their time in school, she had developed a large crush on James Potter.
The only person who ever knew about it was Remus.
And while it absolutely killed her, she was happy when James and Lily started dating.
Then were engaged.
Then married.
Then had Harry.
That was just the kind of person Y/N was. Though it destroyed her, she couldn't help still feeling joyful for him.
Imagine her pain the day he died.
That's how she got to this point now.
So close to Severus Snape.
Because they both bonded together over one thing:
That James and Lily Potter could've had very different lives if they hadn't ended up with each other.
Remus approached Y/N after the dinner, grabbing her elbow gently from behind. She turned away from her conversation with Minerva to look at him, "Oh, Remus. What's wrong?"
He shakes his head, "Nothing. It's just… can I talk to you?"
Minerva intervenes, "Go on, you two. We'll finish this conversation later, Professor Lupin." She pauses, "Well, I guess now you're both Professor Lupin. Hmm." 
She walks off.
Y/N turns around to him. "There's something wrong with you. Don't lie. We've been siblings for far too long to make you think you can lie to me."
He sighs and pulls her arm, dragging her out of the Great Hall.
Severus, with his ever watchful gaze, notices the urgency in which Remus drags her away.
He didn't miss the tall werewolf at all.
"He's just so tall, isn't he?" Remus asked joyfully.
She smiles, "Oh, yes. And Harry is so smart. That, or he's quite good at copying off of Ms. Granger. You'll figure it out when you get there."
"He looks just like James." Remus said with distant look in his eyes.
Y/N smiled at the thought, "Yes. But, he looks like Lily, too. Imagine if he had her red hair. He'd fit in with the Weasleys just fine!"
The two siblings laughed loudly in the middle of the deserted corridor.
It was if they were students again.
She looked back at him, "I really have missed you, Rem."
He sighed, "I'm sorry for my actions after… you know."
"Remus, I don't blame you for reacting to all of it the way you did-"
"-you really can, though. You should."
She stepped back, shaking her head, "No. I don't care what happened in the past."
"You're my sister and I pushed you away," he reminded her. "All because I was too weak."
She scoffed, "You're not weak. You've never been weak. Remus, don't-"
"-NO!" He pushed, "I pushed you away after he died because. every. single. time I looked at you after that, I saw him."
Her mouth opened slightly as she registered his words. She moved to speak, but couldn't trust her own voice.
He took a deep breath and pinched the bridge of his nose, "Look. I'm sorry. That's nothing of your concern, and I don't know why I bothered you with it."
"You… you really saw him in me?" She asked.
"I still do." 
"What's going on down here?" Severus's voice boomed down the hall as he approached the two.
Remus resisted the urge to roll his eyes.
Y/N turned to look at him, "Just catching up. It's been far too long."
"And still not long enough," Severus said.
"Severus," she scolded.
Remus chuckled lightly, "Nice to see you, too, Snivelus."
"Remus," she scolded towards him now.
The two completely ignored her as they glared at each other.
She sighed, "Let's just pretend we all get along? Please."
Severus grumbled under her breath, but agreed.
Remus considered her question carefully, and finally nodded.
Now, Y/N sat on Severus's desk as he carefully brewed a potion on one of his standing desks.
"Are you happy to be here with your brother again?" He asked as small talk.
She nodded, "Yes. I missed his laugh most dreadfully."
He nodded, throwing another ingredient into the cauldron.
She grabbed a stack of papers on his desk, looking at each one carefully.
"What are you doing?" He asked.
"These are second-year essays, yes?"
"Yes."
She nodded, moving now to sit at his desk. She grabbed his quill and ink. "I'll grade these for you while we talk."
He quickly moved towards the desk, "No. I will grade them another time. Don't do my work for me. You do enough."
She looked up at him with a puzzled brow, "Why? You're busy with your potion. I thought it only fair…"
He stepped back in thought, "It would be a nuisance to you. You won't enjoy the content."
She laughed, "No one enjoys reading or writing essays about anything magical. Everyone would rather just see or do it."
"But that's how they learn." He counter argued. 
She shook her head, "No, that's how you teach."
He tilts his head, "And what do you do for Astronomy, darling?"
She smiles, "They draw what they see. The constellations. Then sometimes, I make them come up with new names for each one. When they get older, they get to write stories for them. Come up with their own backstory for how it got in the sky."
He nodded, "But each constellation has its own story already."
"They do. And I tell them those. If people in history can choose what to believe about them, why can't my students? And trust me when I say I haven't had a single student fail the exam for it in four years."
Severus stirred the potion as he listened, "I just don't see how it's helpful, is all."
She shrugs, "As long as they learn, who cares?"
He smiles just barely, "I'll never understand how your little mind works."
She missed the way he almost ruined the potion due to his interest in their conversation.
"So, what's in your lesson plans for today, Professor Lupin?" Y/N asked excitedly.
"Well," Remus said, "Today, I figured the third years would get to face a boggart."
She gasped, "You got your hands on a boggart?"
He nodded, "Hagrid helped me, of course."
"How much longer until your class?"
He looked down at his watch, "Hmm, 40 minutes, I'd say."
She smirked, "Still think our fears are what they always were?"
He tilted his head back and forth, "I'd say so. I mean, we're older but… we're still who we used to be. It's worth a try." He smirked.
She practically skipped with excitement toward the bureau in his classroom. "Merlin, you're already better than the last DADA professor, Rem."
He furrowed his brow, "How so?"
"Well," she recalled, "I heard from a Weasley that he opened the cage of 15 Cornish pixies into the second year class. Caused a major disruption. And then… his personality, of course."
"What do you mean?"
"I don't know about others, but, he would not let me alone. He asked me out almost every other day. It was so tiring. But then, one day, he just… quit bothering me."
Remus pondered her words, "What would make him quit?"
She shook her head, "I don't really know, Rem."
He huffed, "Well, I gotta know now. Think, dear sister."
Y/N looked up in thought, "It was after Christmas break. But… before the Chamber was opened. It doesn't matter, honestly. I much rather be goofing off before your class starts. C'mon."
Remus smiles and stands in front of the bureau with his wand, "Alright."
She opens the door slowly.
The boggart immediately shifts into the full moon.
Y/N sighs at the sight.
He was still scared of who he was when the full moon appeared.
"I suppose nothing has changed," he stated.
She nods.
She walks in front of her brother to face the boggart next.
It takes its time to shift, making her rethink her decision to do this.
It shifted to something much different.
Severus Snape's dead body.
Her face dropped quickly at the sight and her eyes widened.
She knew it wasn't real. She knew it wasn't real.
Why does it look so fucking real?
Remus looks over her shoulder with a gasp.
And neither of them move for a minute.
Finally, her voice breaks through the silence, "Rem?"
He nods, "Yeah. Yeah. I… I got it."
Remus steps in front of her, waving his wand and whisking the creature back into the bureau.
The door shuts and locks, but the siblings remain just as quiet.
As if spooked, Y/N bolts out of the classroom door.
She runs as quickly as her legs can carry her, almost running into sleepy students multiple times.
She throws the door open.
The door to Severus's classroom.
He stands up from his desk slightly startled by her sudden intrusion.
Her entire body relaxes as she sees him.
"Is everything alright?" He asked suspiciously.
She shakes her head, looking down at her feet in embarrassment. 
Severus nods, walking up to her slowly. "I have twenty minutes before class. Why don't you come sit?"
When she doesn't move at all, he reaches forward and gently grabs her bicep.
At the contact, she suddenly wraps her arms around his neck and hugs him tightly.
He grunted in surprise, but made no move to get away from her.
In fact, he even wrapped his own arms around her. 
"What has got you so worked up?"
She sighs into his chest, "I don't know. Everything just… clicked today."
"It what?"
"It all makes sense."
He leaned back just barely to see her face, "Such as?"
"You told Lockhart to let me alone last year, didn't you?"
He stiffened, "I… may have."
"Thank you."
"Don't. It was nothing."
She nods, pulling away from him, "I'm sorry for all this. I just… had… a moment earlier and… needed to make sure you were alright."
"Why wouldn't I be?"
She shrugs, "It seems that the people I like don't have a great track record of… staying alive, is all."
He tilts his head, "People you 'like'?"
Y/N blushes, "Um. People I enjoy the company of. You know."
"And you enjoy my company?" He asked in a teasing way.
"How could I not?" She finally regains her thoughts, "I should go before your class starts. Granger will be here any minute."
He nods, "Perhaps you may come by later to assist me with grading?"
She smiles, "Only if you let them draw pictures at some point."
Severus sighs, "Alright."
She bits her bottom lip to hold in her laugh. "Alright then. It's a date."
She begins to walk out.
"And Darling?" He asked.
She turned in the doorway to look at him, "Yes?"
"I didn't tell Lockhart to let you alone. I threatened him quite severely."
She tilted her head, "How?"
He shrugged, "Does it matter?"
She shakes her head with a light blush on her cheeks. 
Oh, Remus will eat this up.
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vixstarria · 2 days
Text
Bloodbang Chronicles
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Chapter 1
Series summary:
Five years have passed since the confrontation with the Netherbrain. Astarion and his warlock lover, Asmodea, are living it up in Baldur’s Gate, running a cabaret. Their life of decadence and debauchery seems idyllic, until Asmodea’s patron disrupts it with a proposal. One that seems too good to be true. One they cannot refuse.
Pairing: Astarion x Original Female Character
Genre: Humor / adventure / smut (not all in this chapter), with all the usual Astarion-related elements along the way, without getting too heavy
Rating: Explicit
Chapter word count: 2,700
Updates weekly if I can help it
This is a post-game continuation of my bardlock series, which was mostly written in 2nd person POV, with the OC referred to as “Tav” where they had to be named. Rest assured it’s been about Asmodea all along. You can consider the oneshots a prequel. I will still add on to them until I’ve covered the in-game events.
AO3 | Overall masterlist
Thank you @brabblesblog for beta reading! ♥
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“It’s not my bloody problem you’re bored,” the woman muttered, coming down the backstairs and into the kitchen. 
She wore a silk kimono robe, red hair in a dishevelled bun, traces of yesterday’s makeup still smudged under her eyes.
“And I just woke up, how exactly did you expect me to entertain you while I was sleeping anyway?” she continued.
At times dealing with her patron felt like handling a petulant child. What a disturbing thought… She wasn’t particularly fond of children, petulant or otherwise.
Other times, the patron raved like a lunatic, or lectured her like a child, or just giggled maniacally, or, on occasion, even shared surprisingly astute and helpful observations or advice.
But just then, she wished it would simply be quiet, or better yet - gone from her head entirely, at least until the pounding subsided.
Last night had been… a bit much.
I’m getting too old for this, she thought idly, before brushing the thought aside. Being a half-elf, it was another 100 years or so before she really had reason to worry about her age. Provided nothing killed her by then, of course.
She poured herself some coffee from a pot mercifully brewed by the kitchen staff just earlier. They were used to the hours she kept.
“Can’t you go play with the other fey..? Torture some elves, turn some mortals into trees and then piss on them, or whatever it is your kind do? Shoo!” She hissed at her patron, turning into the bar section of the establishment. It was only mid-afternoon, a few hours still before it opened. Perhaps she could enjoy some peace and quiet there, alone with her coffee.
“…she must work here…” she overhead a hushed murmur coming from a nearby booth. Lifting her eyes from her mug, she saw two faces peering at her in curiosity.
Two young faces, plastered with paints and powders with the vigour, determination and skill of little girls that had just gotten into their mothers’ makeup bags for the very first time. No doubt they tried to sneak in early to avoid paying admission. 
Again? she rolled her eyes inwardly. Very well. Watch this, then.
“Ah! You must be here for the interview?” she asked brightly, approaching the booth.
There was, of course, no interview, and the two girls - a blonde and a brunette - simply looked at each other, no doubt wondering whether this was a good lie to try to latch on to. They weren’t thinking very quickly, as they still hadn’t managed to produce any response by the time the woman made herself comfortable in the booth with them. At least they didn't seem to question the idea of being interviewed by a hungover loon in a dressing gown. It may have been the norm in this establishment, for all they knew.
“Um… Yes.” The blonde finally spoke, taking the bait that was offered. “We’re looking for work in the evenings, perhaps? We’re from the academy, you see…”
“I see…” the woman hummed, sipping her coffee. “First years?”
“Third”, the brunette said proudly.
Old enough to be here then, at least.
“And so you’ve come here,” the woman stated. “May I ask why? Shouldn’t you be tutoring other fine young ladies? Or perhaps scribing? Anything that’s not so lowbrow, really.”
She continued to sip her coffee, waiting to see what they would come up with. Their cogs were turning painfully slow, to her disappointment.
“Oh no, not at all…” The blonde stammered. “We’ve heard such wonderful things about the owners.”
“Have you now?” The woman couldn’t help but laugh. “What have you heard?”
‘Wonderful’ was hardly a word that might ever have been used to describe anything about them.
“Is it true that the proprietor is a vampire?” the brunette blurted out, finally, as her friend glared at her.
Ah, there we go, to the point at last…
“Why do you ask?” The woman smiled into her mug.
A figure appeared behind the bar as she spoke. It moved silently, wrapped head to toe in a maroon silk sheet, searching through the bar’s selection of wines. The girls did not see it, both facing the opposite direction.
“Well…” the brunette perked up. “We’ve heard some rumours… And wanted to know if they were true. …And whether what they say about vampires is true.”
“Oh? What do they say?” The woman leaned in conspiratorially.
The brunette bit her lip, suddenly unsure whether to continue. The woman found herself growing impatient.
“What is it you really want to know?” She asked, leaning a little further in, penetrating the brunette with her gaze. “You can tell me.”
Something in the swirl of the woman’s irises enticed the girl. Yes, of course she could tell her. She was a friend.
At this point the blonde had spotted the telltale bite marks on the woman’s neck, and was quite unsubtly staring at them whilst elbowing her friend.
The brunette ignored her, instead leaning in as well, to whisper.
“For example, is it true that being bitten by a vampire is like…” here she paused, looking a bit flustered. Clearly despite her enthusiasm some words were just too much for her. “Is like… a little death?” she said finally, in a hushed, wide-eyed whisper, as her friend sighed in disbelief and coloured.
“Would you like to find out?” the woman whispered back, before raising her head to call out to the shrouded figure. “Astarion, there are some young harlots here to see you.”
“More harlots?!” Astarion groaned in mock exhaustion, picking up a goblet and making his way to the booth with his choice of bottle. “What is a man to do with all these harlots?”
The squeal both girls let out did nothing for the woman’s headache.
A ray of sunlight snuck past a partially drawn curtain and pierced the air between Astarion and the booth.
“Ugh,” he huffed, pausing before the ray. “Darling, do you mind..?”
“Of course, love,” the woman said, before flexing her mind to pull on a multitude of telekinetic strings. Instantaneously, curtains all around the room pulled themselves closed, shutters slammed shut, and a multitude of candles ignited to light up the space.
Settling in the booth on the other side of the two girls, Astarion finally allowed the sheet to slip off his head and halfway down his torso, revealing his alabaster skin and sculpted muscles. He seemed to be wearing nothing underneath the sheet draped around him. The stunning effect would have been ruined somewhat had anyone noticed the fluffy pink slippers on his feet.
Astarion poured himself the wine, pointedly ignoring the girls, before reaching for the woman’s hand and placing a kiss on her knuckles.
“May I?” he purred. Having obtained her assent, he pierced one of her fingers with a fang, to drip a few drops of blood into his wine.
It was only then the woman noticed that, quite uncharacteristically, the blonde was staring at her rather than at Astarion.
“Madam Asmodea…” the girl whispered, in awe.
“‘Madam’?!” Asmodea scoffed. “This is a theatre, not a brothel!”
Astarion finally deigned to look at the two dolts in the booth.
“Well… These ones are fresher than the musty harlots from yesterday. Unspoiled and virginal…” he mused, sipping his wine. “You are a virgin, are you not?” he directed at the brunette.
The girl merely sputtered and coloured.
“No matter,” Astarion sighed, shaking his head.
“Do we really want to go through all that trouble again so soon, my heart?” Asmodea said, wearily. “All that blood…” she groaned theatrically.
“Hmm… Do you think it will be too soon to order another mattress?” Astarion said innocently, swirling the wine in his goblet.
“Absolutely, the supplier is already getting suspicious, and so are the removalists.”
“We’ll say I couldn’t keep down a boar I’d drained again.”
Both girls were growing increasingly more agitated by the second, on the verge of hyperventilating as much as their unnecessarily tightly laced corsets would allow.
“It’s not just that,” Asmodea said, pushing her coffee mug further away from her. Once the girls finally broke out of their stupor and fled, they’d no doubt run through her side of the booth, and she didn’t want anything spilled on her robe. “There’s two of them again, the blood will leak all the way through the boards, we’ll need to have the entire floor redone as well - do you remember what a hassle that was?”
“You’re right… Shall we take them straight to the dungeon then? That way the incinerator is right there once we’re done,” Astarion said with a malevolent grin.
At last, the girls made a run for it, screaming. Thankfully, they both opted to topple right over the backs of the booth’s seats, tripping over their skirts several times before scampering up and finally making it back out through the door. With another push of her mind, Asmodea slammed the door shut behind them, blocking out the sun. She really needed to start taking it easy, she thought, the exercise took more effort than usual.
Still in their seats, Astarion and Asmodea shared a look of pure mischievous mirth, before bursting into laughter.
“Gods…” Astarion chortled. “This never gets old.”
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Five years had passed since the confrontation with the Elder Brain.
Astarion was a wreck once the insane ploy he had been pulled into was over.
Once he could finally stop worrying about survival or what the next day might bring, once he didn’t have to wallow in uncertainty anymore, once he could stop running on pure desperate instinct, he suddenly found himself not knowing what he wanted, or even who he was.
No Cazador. No tadpole. No immunity to the sun. Not a single thing to call his own, and not a clue about what he wanted to do for the rest of the eternity which had miraculously been afforded him. Nothing but the weight of the past 200 years. And, despite all odds, his lunatic bard-turned-warlock love. Still by his side.
The pair had initially travelled with Halsin for some time.
The decision was made not least because they thought it prudent to try to steer clear of the 1,000 or so newly freed spawn which Astarion had personally lured to Cazador, until they had dispersed into the Underdark. His siblings had offered him a spot at the top of whatever hierarchy the vampires would end up falling into, but he declined. It would likely have ended as a death sentence - if not for him, then for Asmodea.
As for Halsin - the druid had proven to be an island of comfort and stability for both of them, having grown close, very close in the time they spent together in the Shadow-cursed Lands and Baldur’s Gate. Asmodea had also simply found it nice to let someone whom she could trust take charge and make decisions for a change, which Astarion was certainly not in the right state of mind to do at the time. 
But, it wasn’t long before Halsin began talking about taking care of orphans, and generally having a bigger and better heart than Astarion and Asmodea felt they had any right to lay any claim to, and it was time to part ways. They returned to Baldur’s Gate.
By that point Asmodea had a plan. As well as all the perks that came with emerging from the group’s final battle as the ‘hero of Baldur’s Gate’.
It started as a dingy, underground (quite literally) gambling den. Anything to pretend that there was life in the shadows, and that keeping to night hours was something people did as a matter of course.
The gambling den expanded into a pub. Which expanded into a tavern with a small stage, attracting ever-changing artists and acts.
The venues continued to move, change and grow, until eventually the pair boasted a sprawling establishment named The Dancing Siren, comprising a bar, restaurant and theatre, with private rooms on the top floors.
Asmodea didn’t much care for the bar and restaurant, but rather operated them out of necessity and for convenience. Livestock with fresh blood was delivered to the doorstep, keeping Astarion sated. They didn’t even need to set up a front for it.
The theatre, on the other hand, was Asmodea’s pride and joy. The pinnacle of what she had once dreamed of, but never thought she would have the means to realise.
The shows were pure debauchery - lewd comedy, song and dance; the performers clad in ostentatious costumes, all feather boas, lingerie and sequins.
Entering the theatre was like stepping onto a different plane, one set in a perpetual haze of smoke and perfume, decorated in vulgar, flamboyant decadence.
Astarion had started as an observer, a bemused witness to his lover’s vision coming true.
Despite his initial scepticism, he was gradually pulled in more and more, perhaps spurred by his own penchant for theatrics and craving for attention.
As time passed, he found himself directing, assisting with costumes, and occasionally performing or stepping in as the master of ceremonies, when the need arose.
He had an undeniable talent for choreography.
He also looked sinfully good in a corset.
If Astarion ever regretted his choice to forego completing the ritual in Cazador’s stead, it only showed in his lamentations at being unable to unleash legions of wolves on disorderly guests, or to turn into mist in the face of tax collectors. 
Throughout the five years, Astarion’s identity as a vampire remained the worst kept secret in Baldur’s Gate. It was never quite publicly admitted, of course, but neither was it denied. The Duke’s personal protection guaranteed that he would be undisturbed, at least by the authorities, and at least as long as he ‘behaved’.
There was never any shortage of fools who were willing to throw themselves at him, should he desire variety in sentient blood, anyway.
Life was a beautiful gilded cage of the pair’s own construction. The door was perpetually left open, but why would they ever leave..?
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Asmodea sat at her vanity, getting ready for the night ahead, when an external presence filled her mind once again.
“HOW LONG WILL YOU CONTINUE TO SQUANDER MY GIFTS ON IMPRESSING BUFFOONS WITH CHEAP PARLOUR TRICKS?”
She winced at the intrusion.
“Use your inside voice, dear, there’s no need to shout,” she murmured, continuing her preparations. “You are more than welcome to vacate my mind and take your gifts with you - I don’t owe you anything, and there is sufficient sorcery in my blood for moving curtains and lighting candles.”
Her patron came and went as it pleased. She could feel its presence when it was observing. She knew it could see through her eyes. She knew it was aware of each instance of her calling upon its powers. She chose to speak out loud to it, when she could. That seemed to place a divide between their communication and her thoughts.
Five years with hardly a need to use the magic granted by the fey creature. Still, it stayed with her.
“So you say. And yet, you continue to uphold the contract yourself. Asmodea.”
“How does the saying go? Better two birds in the hand, than discovering you can no longer set fire to the bush?” she countered.
The presence snickered.
“Yes… Always grasping and never quite reaching. Always running. Ignoring. Pretending. Denying. You said it yourself... Tell me, little one, what need have you for the birds, when fire is what you yearn for?”
“Do you even understand what you’re going on about, or are you just saying words?” Asmodea murmured, lining her eyes.
“Your senses dull, your mind frails, your muscles weaken, your body softens-”
“Lae’zel..? Has it been you this whole time..?!” She mused.
“Your powers weaken, your very essence decays.”
Asmodea tossed her brush onto the vanity and locked eyes with her own reflection, glaring at it as she might have liked to at her nameless, faceless patron.
“What the fuck do you want?” she spat.
“A new deal.”
“I am more than happy with our current arrangement.”
“Are you..?” The presence chuckled.“And what if I told you, that I can give you more..? That I can lead you to that, which you desire most? That I can help you resolve your predicament?”
She continued to stare at her reflection, narrowing her eyes, drumming her fingernails on the tabletop.
“I’m listening.”
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Taking some liberties here to include people who I think might be interested - do let me know if you don't want to be on this list
@littleenglishfangirl @something-pithy @darlingxdragon @tallymonster @tragedybunny @spunky-89 @acourtofpenandpaper @yoonshope @lariatbunny @whiskeyskin @spacebarbarianweird @brabblesblog @littlejuicebox @icybluepenguin @snowfolly
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loveshotzz · 3 days
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pretend i wrote this when you were sick - pretend it's also not this long. also sorry if it looks like there are parts missing.
He's on his third call while he waits at the door in the early spring breeze, unbottoned work shirt billowing with him -- silently chastising himself for not throwing on a sweater since you told him to do it before he left. He presses the bell again, hearing it go off in the house for the second time, anxiety brewing in his chest. He'd never seen you so sick, and even though the doctor said it was just a bad flu, seeing you in bed like this made his heart pound. He wasn't sleeping, had been working from home the past few days. He'd set up shop right outside the hall of the bedroom, ignoring his office so he could hear if you called out to him -- Bandit dutifully keeping watch over you at the end of the bed. It was something he wasn't expecting to affect him like this, his thoughts getting clouded with the sound of hospital monitors and oxygen machines.
You did your best to understand and assure him you're okay -- you're just kind of a baby about being sick. Lucky for Steve, he's been loving a chance to get to baby you - despite the ache it causes to see you like this.
But the babying would start even quicker if the front door of the house he was in front of would open.
"Honey, am I gonna have to file a report? You can't just be showing up to my house -- I got a wife at home," the tease comes from a familiar smoky voice, "Do you really want her to find out about us?"
"I called three times," Steve huffs, "I said I'd only be gone for ten minutes."
"Do you really think she's counting? She's probably asleep. Plus, you're a minute man," Eddie winks, beckoning him into the house, "And if she calls you can run right home, you're around the fuck--effing corner."
"Yeah, you're around the effing corner, Big Guy," Gwen's tiny voice repeats from the island in the kitchen.
"Gwendolyn," Eddie warns. "Sorry," she whispers back, "I won' say id again."
"Thank you, doll," he smiles, "Can you ask mommy to bring the soup and meds we packed up for your aunt so we can give it to Steve?" She patters away with her light up sneakers glinting pink and purple with every step, disappearing into the house only to run back winded a few minutes later. "Mommy said you have two hands that work just fine so you can get it," she smiles, not fully understanding what she means, "And then she said to say please after. Please!"
Steve snorts, "Yeah, loser, go grab my shi--stuff."
Eddie rolls his eyes, "Whatever."
As her father leaves, Gwen climbs back up on the bar stool and looks up at Steve curiously, "So when does she get to come back over?"
"When she feels better, angel," he smiles, "Why?"
She shrugs, "I dunno, I like when she comes over 'cause then it's not just you."
His mouth gapes with a smile, "What do you mean? Am I not enough for you?"
Gwen shrugs in the way four year olds shrug when they're feeling sneaky, "She's juss funner, Big Guy." "Do you hear this?!" Steve gasps as Eddie re-enters, "She doesn't think I'm as fun."
"You haven't been playing 'Cool Barbies' with her, lately," Eddie shrugs, popping the two tote bags filled with sick day amenities on the table, "Ow, ow Lu, don't pull daddy's hair, please." "It's okay Luce, you can do whatever you want," Steve coos to the baby on Eddie's hip, grabbing the bags and putting them over his shoulder. He leans forward to kiss her only for Eddie to step away.
"Dude, not with your potential flu germs -- they're picking up enough sh--stuff at daycare," Eddie says, taking the baby's pudgy hand and waving, "Say byyyyeee Big Guy." "Bah," Lucy gurgles in her post nap haze, head resting heavily on Eddie's shoulder. "Bye, Big Guy," Gwen smiles, hugging him at the knees, "Tell Auntie-I-said-hi-and-I-miss-her-and-love-her-and-that-she-is-so-pretty-and-that-I-have-new-Barbies."
"I will tell her, thank you for the message," Steve nods, chest hammering again at the thought of you sick and bed without him. He flicks his head up at Eddie, "Tell Peach I said hi."
"Yeah, I'll tell her somethin' alright," he half grumbles, hoisting Lucy higher up on his hip. Steve blows Gwen a kiss before making it back to you in the quick trip is takes to get back to your place. He knocks softly before stepping in, hearing your soft 'hm?' that sets his whole body a buzz with affection. "I have..." he starts, opening the bags, "Two quarts of Peach's famous 'sick soup', a shit ton of orange juice, 800mg motrin, a card from Gwen, a drawing from Gwen, three new pairs of fuzzy socks, a toy for Bandit? Okay..." He lists off the rest of the care package before looking at you with a smirk, "And absolutely nothing for me." "I can gib you someding," you murmur out with a stuffed nose, "I can gib you a kiss." "Ooh, how about I give you a kiss tough girl?" he asks, chestnut hair falling into his eyes as he leans down to kiss your forehead. His lips are warms against your clammy skin, enough to soothe you back into a cozy half sleep under the covers, "How're you feelin'?" "Dired," you admit, "Bud I could really use thad soup." "Okay," he nods, "I'll heat it up for you." He gets back to the door looking back with a soft gaze on you, thinking of Lucy's face and how it looks when you hold her on your hip, how you look when you play Barbies with Gwen. How it would look when there's a baby that's the perfect blend of the two of you bouncing on your lap, when there's a baby monitor in the bedroom, when you're both complaining about germs at daycare. He opens his mouth to say something, but closes it before going downstairs. Right now, babying you is just enough.
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CAROL!!!! Stop 😩 I physically cannot handle this amount of yearning. What have you done to me?!? I’m still sick (it won’t go away) so this was still perfect. Of course he’s imagining getting me pregnant while taking care of me, ILL GIVE THAT OLD MAN ANYTHING HE WANTS!!
Also shout out to the number one couple here and that’s ocs!eddie and airwiy!steve. I love that the little glimpse we get of them living close to each other now and the little growth of the munson family 🥺
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narcissarina · 22 hours
Text
𝔊𝔬𝔩𝔡𝔢𝔫 ℭ𝔞𝔤𝔢, 𝔅𝔩𝔲𝔢 𝔅𝔬𝔫𝔡𝔰
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જ⁀➴Previous chapter
Pairings: bodyguard!Leon × college billionaire!reader
Word count: 2,804
Tw: Gun handling
Summary: After you finish your midterms, Leon vouch to teach you how to handle and shoot a gun. To have you to protect yourself when he takes his leave after three days.
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𝚅𝙸.
You woke up sore, and an aching core.
You support yourself to sit up by your elbow you but hiss and jolt at the sudden ache you had on your lower back, you yawn and groan, moving your limbs to ease the stiff muscles. An arm tightens around your hip, startling you as you look down to see who; it’s Leon.
He does the have his shirt on, his muscles flexing as he frowns when you make small movements. You rub your eyelids with your wrist and stretch your arms up, good thing you wore some pajamas—did Leon dress you up?
“Stop moving so much…” Leon mutter, his voice tired and more deeper in the morning, making you froze in place as crimson creeps up to your cheeks and ear—getting turned on by his morning voice. “Sorry, did I wake you?” you apologized and asked, turning to him, lying down again and cuddling over to him. Burying your face to his chest.
“Didn’t know you’re a clingy type after se—” you hit him before finishing that last word. You frown at him and turn your back, “come here,” he coos, pulling you close—your back flush to his chest, his nose to the crook of your neck. Taking a deep breath as his breath tickles your neck.
You reach for your phone, ignoring Leon’s attempt to snatch your attention by brushing himself against you. You check the time and messages in your phone, “Midterms…” you mutter, dropping down your phone and groan. “What?” he asked, his chin resting to your shoulder.
“Gotta get ready…” you mutter and sat up, Leon’s arm still around your waist. Keeping you from getting off the bed, you struggle to make him let go, “can’t stay for today, princess?” he murmur, sitting up with you and resting his forehead to your neck.
“I would love to, but I have midterms.” You sigh in defeat, his fingers brushing against your abdomen, “sorry for last night, was I too rough?” he chuckle as he asked, you flush in embarrassment when you remembered how cock-drunk you were last night. Even going as far as calling Leon your daddy.
You hum in response, your body sinking in his touch. “What’s with the daddy kink, by the way?” he asked, obviously teasing you, “what do you mean? I don’t quite catch that.” You answered, pretending that you didn’t heard him.
“oh, look at the time. Time to go to school.” Quickly getting up and off your bed, catching Leon off guard as his grip suddenly loosen. You can feel his icy blues stare at your back, his gaze leaving a fire that’s been burning up and down to your back.
You look back and see him hold himself by his side, the pose that most people call paint-me-like-one-of-your-french-girls type of pose. The blanket covering his lower part, making him like a perfect nude model to sculpt and draw on.
Simply ignoring him as you get some things done, while Leon watches your every move.
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“I remember when you told me you want to hold a gun,” Leon started the conversation in the car, wheel turning right as he drives you to school. It’s so unfortunate that your driver isn’t available for today because he had to rush back home because of his daughter—which you gave him permission to leave for the day.
You were stiff and tense in your sit, eyes on the road while Leon talks. You thought to yourself that you’re fortunate enough that you didn’t get killed by his third leg, you feel like he’s going to kill you with his driving skills. One part of you wishes that his license get revoked.
You hum to answer his question, low and meek. Leon turns to you and raise a brow, “something wrong?” you shake your head in response and sink your nails deeper to your seat. His hand found its way to your thigh and give it a squeeze, “don’t worry, I’m not going to crash us.” He assured, his thumb caressing your flesh.
“as I was saying,” Leon made a stop and got out of the car—unbuckling his seatbelt first, then circle around the car and open your door like a passenger princess you are. “After your exam, I’ll be here. And I will teach you how to hold a gun and shoot. What do you say?” Leon suggested, he swear he caught your eyes sparkling with delight. “Really?” you took his hand and got out of a car, as if you’re some royalty that deserve to be treated with such delicacy.
Leon nodded, brushing your knuckles with his thumb as he brought up to his face and his lips made contact with your hand. You blush and chuckle at his move, trying to pull your fingers out from his grasp, “stop that, you look like an idiot.”
“I know I can’t get inside with you because you told me that I’ll cause a distraction because students find me perfection.” He said before interlocking your fingers together, “which I find such bullshit.” You shake your head at him and pinch his cheeks.
“Pop quiz before I let you go,” Leon said, bringing your hands up to wrap around his neck, his blue bonds with the warmth of your glittering eyes. “What is a microprocessor?” he asked, you cleared your throat and confidently answered; “A microprocessor is an integrated circuit having all the functionality of a central processing unit of a PC.” You grin and he nodded, “good, good.”
His face dangerously close to yours, nose touching as he part his lips and ask again, “What is a programming language?”
“A programming language is a collection of grammar rules to instruct computers or computing devices to perform tasks!” you yelp but answered correctly again, his hands were tickling your sides as you both hear a familiar shout from the distance, “bitch! I have called you for a w…” Sarina had gone silent as she saw the two of you, being all lovey-dovey. “Holy shit.”
“Girl!” The grin spreading to your friends face made you retreat from Leon’s touch, you know damn well that she’ll be asking you questions once you two got inside campus. Leon chuckle and held your hand before you leave, “want some Spanish latte after your midterm?” he asked, you nodded and smiled. “Text me when you finish your exam.”
“okay!” you walk up to Sarina and she gave you a bump on the shoulder, Leon got inside his car and drove away—looking at you from the side mirror as he drove off, seeing you wave him goodbye.
Sarina clung to your shoulder, pulling you as she couldn’t wait any longer to hear what kind of tea you’ll be sharing with her.
Walking around the hallways until you both found your respective class, your professor scaring the two of you at the door then giving the paper with a smile in his face. Laughing at you and your friends reaction, which got Sarina almost hitting the prof.
“by the way, girl. Why do you walk like that?” Sarina asked, taking the paper and walking beside you, tilting your head with confusion, you asked her, “what do you mean?”
“You walk like you just got fucked.” You hit her shoulder with the paper you’re holding and sat beside her, she made a small ‘o’ with her lips, pouting why you’d hit her when she just asked, “unless, you….” She raised a brow, your eyes rolled as you take your pen and write down your name, “take the test or keep gossiping.” You mutter.
“girl, you are fucking scoring to the Leon S. Kennedy!” she shriek in a whisper, she felt more happier for you and keeps bumping you to give you a shit-eating grin. God, you wish you could hide the fact that you just got fucked; it was hard and rough too for your first time. You wish you could’ve walked more normal than limping every few seconds because your core is sore and the aching feeling you had in your lower back.
Surprisingly, you finish the test since last night Leon was fucking you to oblivion while giving you a pop quiz, every wrong answer—he’d push deeper, but won’t move to satisfy your aching cunt.
You clenched your legs together as you thought about last nights incident, wishing that the arousal isn’t pooling down to damp your underwear. You think of how he snaps his hips every time you talk back at him, making you choke and sob. How he would delay your release and every answer you got correct, he would circle around your bud and hard fucked you until you deserve to come.
You earn that fucking release because you got the majority of his questions correct, making you exhausted and limp. You hate how much he has his fingers all over you, that you’d b willing to please him. Looking like a dejected pup when he doesn’t give you attention right away.
Maybe he was right, you’ve become a brat—no, you are a brat. In his eyes, a brat that he’s willing to tame every chance that you misbehave.
These thoughts kept on running until Sarina harshly bumps you to snap back to reality, “earth to miss?” she whispered, pinching your side which made you wince and almost let out a loud ‘ouch’.
“You wanna turn it in or are you daydreaming about Leon f—”
“Say it, and I will give you an uppercut.”
Her lips now shut in a thin line as you asked her to turn your paper in too. You stood up and brush those thoughts away and catches up to Sarina.
You didn’t notice how time flies, when Sarina kept asking you question about your blonde bodyguard. Poking your cheeks and annoying you if you refuse to answer her.
“Is he like, doing the things men do in books?” you raise a brow to her question as you’re eating some hamburger, you thought about it for a while. He’s opening doors for you, when you ask that your feet hurts—he’d carry you bridal style, when you call for him, rest assured that he’s already there.
So it’s safe to say to your friend that he may be one of the real life book boyfriends that Sarina’s reading about, you gave her a nod and took the last bite of your food. She whines and keeps shaking you, “you’re so lucky!” she said. Yeah, so lucky that he’s a good fucker too.
You never knew you’d also ask yourself if older guys do it better, but then again. He’s your first.
A honk startled you, almost dropping your drink as you turn your gaze to the car—the windows rolled down and it’s Leon. His looking at you, nodding his head to gesture you to come now, “got to go, see you!” you bid farewell to your friend, she watch you walk away and as if she had seen her best friend finally clinging like a koala to someone else.
“Spanish latte, venti. For my princess.” He handed you the paper bag with your drink inside. “Thank you, you’re such a considerate bodyguard.” You blink pretty for him before taking out your drink from the bag, plunging the straw and taking a sip. “You’re forgetting something, sweetheart.”
You turn your head and tilt in confusion, “come on, where’s my thank you kiss?” he tease, his eyes on the road—driving to his workplace again. You rolled your eyes to him, and shift your position so you could reach him. He leans and you gave him a quick peck on the cheek, which made him grin so hard.
“Thank you for my lovely bodyguard and the D.S.O’s most dangerous agent to get me my drink.” You teased and lean back to your seat again, you hear him chuckle as he turn the wheels and parked the car.
Even though you only visited this place once, people already knew who you were—his co-workers and other researchers, as if the word spread like wildfire. You saw familiar faces again as they greeted you with a warm welcome back smiles, you clung to Leon’s bicep as he guides you to the shooting area.
His friends followed to watch how Leon can guide you, teach you the do’s and don’ts of holding a gun and shooting the gun.
You admit, you’re kind of nervous. Your hands visibly shaking and your palms sweating, Leon tease you for it. “Come on, sweetheart. How can you protect yourself if you couldn’t hold it properly?” you want to punch him here and there but people are watching. He does have a point, how could you defend yourself when Leon isn’t around when he’ll be sent away because of a mission?
You don’t want to be a helpless girl, taking a couple of deep breaths as you position yourself. Leon’s behind you and telling you the do’s and don’ts.
“I want you to know the Golden rules for handling a gun, princess.” Leon starts, his voice calm and a whisper, “Always keep your fingers straight and off the trigger until you are ready to shoot.” You nod.
“Like this?” you asked, positioning your fingers just as he said. “Like that, here—let me help you first,” he holds your hands that’s been holding a gun, both of your hands are in his palm. Squeezing so that you could stop from shaking and assures you that it’ll be all right and that it’s always scary when it’s your first.
“Now, remember to keep your gun pointed to a safe direction,” Leon mutters to your ear, his front flush against your back. His friends were standing there as if they’re watching a live romance episode.
“Aim at the target,” you do as he says as his voice became more authoritative, you aim—his hands still wrap around your fingers. “Take a deep breath,” you did, a couple more times, Leon help you shot the first one, “see? Not so bad.” He assures and lets you go, backing himself to let you be on your own.
You adjust your position, taking deep breaths—your eyes to the target. Your finger creeping in to the trigger, then bang. Right at the red dot, you never smiled so hard in your life. You shot right where the red dot is, “Leon! D-Did you see that?” you jump, “princess, the gun.”
“Oops,” you place the gun down, not wanting to accidentally shoot your toe, “sorry.” you scratched the back of your head and jump your way to Leon and brag about how you did that all on your own.
“yeah, so proud of you, princess.” He says, “why does it feel like you don’t mean it?” you raise a brow, suspicious of his own words, “you hurt me with those words.” He chuckle, “wanna have a go again?” you nodded and you did.
You were enjoying your time, Leon gave you another tip and rules on how to handle a gun. “Don’t aim your gun to someone who you don’t intend to shoot, okay?” you hum in response, you both sitting on a bench and eating the donuts that Luis bought for what he say, “love birds.”
The room fell silent, only your munching was heard and Leon is wiping the gun with some cloth, “I won’t here for a while, my flight leaves in three days.” He said, making you stop chewing and look at him in the eye, “what do you mean?” you asked, “got assigned to another mission,” you made a sad ‘oh’ and look down to your ground. “I trust you don’t cause any trouble, and if you’re ever in danger. You know what to do.” Leon spoke those words proudly.
You nod, but felt anxious since you have grown use to Leon always being at your side. In just a call, he’s there. What if he doesn’t come back though, what would you do?
“Will you come back?”
Those words made Leon crack a small smile, “of course,” he mutter, brushing a strand of hair at the back of your ear, “just gonna be gone for a couple of days or week…” you look at him with sad yet hopeful eyes, “probably a month…” he finishes.
“I’ll hate you forever if you die on me.”
“Never.”
You scoot over and lie your head to his shoulder, his arm swung around you and brought you closer. Feeling his warmth, you ought to make his three days worth a while before his flight. Be touch and hear his voice for the last three days before he departs.
You don’t have to worry, he’ll be safe when you are safe at the back of his mind.
He should remember to bring you some souvenirs when he gets back.
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Next Chapter>>>
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keldae · 2 days
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19. "Your voice is so calming." for Devi/Gale please? (and thank you!)
It was all but impossible to tell when “night” was in the Underdark – the party wound up using their fatigue as an indicator of when it was time to go to bed, and when they needed to wake up. This was their third camp set up in the Underdark, and only the first since Devi had woken everyone up with her screaming at a nightmare. 
She was almost grateful for the dimness of the Underdark – it hid how she had felt like she’d been constantly blushing all day. She swore she was fiercely independent and didn’t need help from anyone, but she couldn’t deny that she’d slept much better after Gale had joined her on her bedroll last night, snuggling her while they’d slept. It had felt incredibly nice to sleep with the handsome wizard, feeling warm and protected under his arm, and totally worth the sidelong grins she’d received from the rest of the party in the morning – but she couldn’t ask Gale to sleep with her every night! Gale was too damn nice for his own good, and would probably do it if Devi asked it of him, and clearly he wasn’t concerned overmuch about propriety or appropriateness if he’d made the initiative last night to sleep with her, even if it was strictly platonic in nature, but…
Devi frowned. It was just humiliating for her to ask for help in sleeping from the wizard she had a hopeless crush on. 
As the rest of the party started to disperse to tents after sharing the evening meal together, Devi moved to fetch her bedroll, planning on rolling it out by the campfire. She wasn’t expecting Gale to come up beside her, catching her arm in his hand. “Did you sleep well last night?” he softly asked. “After I joined you?”
Feeling her cheeks heat up, Devi nodded. “I did,” she said, giving the wizard a smile. “Thank you again for that – you didn’t have to sleep with me.”
“I know,” Gale answered, “but I wanted to.” His ears went bright, even in the darkness. “Erm, not to say that I was thinking about sleeping with you before last night, but, um…” He raked his hand through his hair awkwardly as Devi giggled. “Oh, I’m botching this. Will you stay with me tonight, in my tent?”
Devi felt her eyebrows rise as she searched Gale’s eyes. “I wouldn’t have thought you would want to sleep with me again,” she said, “after having to snuggle me all night.”
Gale shrugged one shoulder, deliberately casual. “You’re pleasant to cuddle with. And truth be told, I slept better myself while holding you. Do you recall what I said last night, about how I was suffering nightmares too?”
That made Devi nod. “I remember,” she confirmed. “You said you’d been having another nightmare when I screamed and startled you out of it.”
Gale nodded. “Just so. It seems that sleeping together helps prevent nightmares for both of us.” He hesitated for a moment. “Of course, if you would rather sleep on your own tonight, I–”
Devi quickly shook her head. “No, no… I did like sleeping with you,” she said. “I’ll happily join you again. But only if you’re sure that you aren’t cutting into your own rest by snuggling me all night.”
“That’s a relief,” Gale commented, visibly relaxing. “My next recourse was to try to borrow Clive from Karlach.”
“Not happening,” Karlach called over with a grin as she flopped down on her bedroll, Clive securely tucked under her arm.
Gale chuckled, then stepped aside, escorting Devi to his tent. She curiously looked around as she slipped under the flap – this was her first time inside the wizard’s tent. It was small, but felt cosy, with the various wizarding tools he’d accumulated set up around the walls of the tent, and the piles of books in every corner. She turned to watch Gale as he entered the tent after her, closing the tent flap behind him with a wave of his hand; he sat down, then held his arm out for her to join him on his bedroll.
Feeling her heart skip a beat, Devi lowered herself down beside the wizard, snuggled up under his arm. Gale smiled and gave her a little squeeze, then pulled the blanket over them both before he reached for one of the books by his head. “I hope it doesn’t bother you that I like to read a bit before I fall asleep,” he said.
“You? Read? Who are you, and what have you done with our wizard?” Devi winked at Gale as he snorted a laugh. “No, it doesn’t bother me at all.” She yawned, then curiously looked at the book. “Will you read to me a little bit?” she asked after a moment’s hesitation.
“Gladly.” Gale smiled at her, then opened the book to the first pages. He started reading out loud in a soft voice, just loud enough for Devi to hear without bothering anyone outside the tent walls. It was a story Devi had never heard before, a tale about a selkie lord and the fisherman’s daughter who he loved. 
She yawned again and snuggled up against Gale as he continued to read. “Your voice is so calming,” she murmured when he paused for a breath.
Gale smiled again and tightened his arm around her shoulders. “I’m glad,” he softly said. “You deserve to hear something soothing. Fall asleep if you wish – I’ll just pick the story up again tomorrow night from where we left off.”
Devi didn’t want to fall asleep right now – she wanted to hear the story of the selkie lord and his maiden fair, and she wanted to hear Gale read to her of how the lovestruck couple found a way to be together without one dying for love. But she soon found herself losing the battle against sleep, Gale’s soothing voice lulling her into slumber. She yawned again and rested her head on Gale’s chest, feeling her eyelids grow heavier with every word the wizard read. 
She finally heard Gale stop talking, and felt him shift enough to set the book to the side before he carefully laid down fully, bringing her with him. His hand started to gently caress her hair as his lips touched her brow. “Good night, Devi,” he whispered, tugging the blanket up to their shoulders. 
Devi tried to bid Gale good-night in turn, but her lips refused to speak the words, half-asleep as she was. She settled instead for snuggling into his side, her hand resting on his stomach under the blanket. The last thing she was aware of before sleep claimed her was feeling his smile against her hair.
Her dreams that night were of selkies, and of the ocean, and of Gale.
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shhh-secret-time · 3 days
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Yeah so this is in fact going to be a two part fic! This request came from AO3 and we were able to hash out more on this fic! I pitched the idea of making it a cowboy AU and they seemed to really like that idea! So here we are! Please enjoy and look forward to part 2!
Warning: Strong-Language, Gun Violence, Blood (Minor), Writer doesn't know how guns work!
Pairing: Gunslinger!Kyle x Fem!Reader
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Colorado was an untamed lawless wasteland, at least that's what most people out East would tell you. Between talks of untapped land and the rumors of gold mines out that way, people were scrambling to find out there. But not all men had fortune and discovery in their hearts. Some had things to hide, pasts they intend to bury deep in the desert sands.
You were one of those people. As an heir to your family's printing press, it was only natural that from the time you were born a target would be painted on your back. Distant family members, friends of the family, hell even the butler once thought if they got their hands on you, they could use you as leverage. Kidnapping, attempted murder, blackmail, and threats all before the age of sixteen. You'd seen and heard it all. And every time it got harder and harder to want to stick around.
Now here you were twenty something and unwed. Parents long buried having left you everything as they always said they would. You were alone with all the money one person could ever need, and it was so incredibly lonely.
After a while you just kind of became desensitized to the attempt at your life. But no one really gets used to being so alone. How were you supposed to make a connection with people, when all that ever came up was the talk of marriage or your money.
Truly you were grateful for your parents, and you did love them! After all they were good to you, they protected and loved you. That protection morphed and twisted into an overbearing relationship. Up until now you weren't allowed to go out on your own, they decided who you interacted with. Your tutor you had known for years had to go through a background check by the Pinkertons every few months just to remain employed.
So, again, when they passed it was like being thrown out into the ocean and told to swim. If the business was to stay afloat you would have to learn to be sociable and professional. Learn to swim in the shark infested waters of a male dominated field.
Or you could sell the company to the highest bidder and bounce. Which is what you decided to do. Auction out your family’s printing company and try to retire in the lap of luxury. Maybe start your own book using all that tutoring your parents got you.
But it could never be that easy, could it? Once word got out about your plans to sell it all, certain people started plotting against you. It all came ahead one night when you were getting ready for bed. You blew out the candles that kept your bedroom lit, closed your windows, and locked your doors. Double checked them a few times before finally deciding to lay your head down for the night.
A lot of good that did. As soon as you close your eyes, a gloved hand cups your mouth. Another pair goes for your arms and legs, you feel the coarse hemp rope across your skin. Another night, another attempt at your life.
Your attackers must've not heard that the heir to the printing press was no damsel in distress. Quick as they came, your hands shot under the pillow next to you, the side of your bed that lay bare. Except for the .38 derringer that you slept with; two shots loaded in the chamber. Two intruders and still two shots were all you needed.
Click. Bang.
You stand there watching the sheriff and his posse drag the intruders off in their wagon, a blanket thrown over your shoulders by said sheriff. He sits next to you with his badge gleaning off the dull light from the city’s lampposts, a cigar tucked in between his teeth.
"You know this is the third attempted break in this month." He says puffing on the brown tobacco.
"I know." You mumble, bringing the blanket closer to your form.
"And the third time my men had to take in men with bullets in their chests. You're lucky you're a fine shot or I'd have to take you in for murder." He doesn't look at you, but you can hear the danger in his voice. See the way he inspects the cigar, holding it between his fingers.
"Sheriff?" You look up at him with furrowed brows.
A chill runs down your spine when he finally meets your eyes. The smirk that slowly creeps up his lips says it all.
"Now that's not to say I don't believe you. From what I've heard you got quite the record when it comes to things like this." He gestures vaguely with the tip of the cigar before continuing, "just find it kinda odd it keeps happening to you."
"You think I ask for this?" You ask back with a little more frustration in your voice than you should. Could you really be blamed for it though? The sheriff who was supposed to protect you, keep you safe from things like this, was sitting here blaming for the actions of stupid men.
"I don't think you do anything to prevent it. Just strange that a lady in her prime lives alone and isn't going about means of protection besides what...a gun under her pillow?" He blows out smoke that illuminates under the same light that touches his badge, the heavy white smoke lifts from his lips towards the night sky.
You honestly couldn't believe what you were hearing. That shiver that went down your spine spread throughout your body, making your blood run cold. Men breaking into your home you could handle, but a person with actual power? This was a battle you couldn't fight, not alone anyway.
"I'm sorry sheriff." You bite your tongue until you taste blood. "You're right. I should do something about this."
That was the best advice that asshole could have given you. To find someone in your corner. To find someone who can smuggle you out of the state and across the country. Finding someone who you could trust to not immediately shoot you in the back or run off with your money.
After searching around and pushing the word out there as subtly as you could, you finally catch wind of someone who fits the bill. You'd have to push a few dollar bills into the right hands, greasy palms, and all that, but you eventually get a name.
Kyle Broflovski.
That name carried weight, made your tongue feel heavy when you said it. The kind of reputation that he had wasn't one to take lightly. Over thirty bounties turned in alive and done by hand. While the number of bounties he brought in may not have been the largest out there, it was the fact he took down only the worst of the worst. The number on the bounty poster meant nothing to him, it was all about what the target had done. He was exactly what you were looking for, a man who could see past the money.
Now it all came down to arranging a meeting with him. Even a shut in like yourself knew the best place to find what you were looking for was the local saloon. The only thing left to do was dress down and try to convince the famous gunslinger that you desperately needed his help.
The smell of cigarettes and cheap booze was the first to greet you and you hadn't even opened the door yet. You could see boot prints made in the sawdust scattering across the floor. The cheery show tunes being played behind the door almost drowned out the sound of laughter. Before you could push open the door, a man came flying out being thrown by another gentleman. He hits the stairs and slumps down next to your foot. The poor man hit his head pretty hard, enough for it to put him to sleep.
With a little gulp you ignore the shaky feeling in your legs and push the dark wooden doors open. Maybe the thick brown cloak thrown over your form wasn't doing the best job at helping you blend it, but on the other hand most of the people here seemed to be enthralled by the women playing upstage to even care that you walked in. The girls dressed in flashy clothing were dolled up in the brightest makeup you've ever seen. They were gorgeous and the performance they put on brought life to this place, it was no wonder why people could lose themselves.
Your eyes scan the room as you scurry away from the door. People coming in and out, pushing past you like you weren't even there. The entire situation made your anxiety spike, being in such an unfamiliar place.
Somehow your legs carry you over to the bar. Taking a seat at the scuffed wooden counter, you note just how many empty shot glasses are covering the surface. Empty plates that looked like they were dipped in grease. Stained glasses that had thick amber liquid, the kind that burned your throat just looking at it. You tried not to look at the bar too much when you caught sight of faded red stains.
You take a deep breath and steady yourself before trying to flag down the bartender’s attention. A woman with tan skin and dark red hair. The bags under her eyes are so dark you don't think she understands the concept of sleep. Two cross tattoos just under her amber looking eyes lead your own down to her outfit. The light blue vest she's wearing makes her skin pop, somehow her nail polish isn't chipped or scratched in anyway. You watch as she takes a bottle of liquor by slotting it between her index finger and her middle finger.
She must have sensed your eyes on her because she side eyes you for a moment. The woman flips the bottle over and pours a clear liquid into a small shot glass. Once the drink is poured, she slides it down the bar and it lands in the hand of another patron. It takes her but a second to put the bottle down, wipe her hands off, and then approach you with a cigarette dangling from her lips.
"You're new here, aren't you?" She asks like she already knows the answer to that question.
"I... I am. I was just...looking for a drink." Not a complete lie, at this point a drink would help calm your nerves.
"Is that so?" Her brow shoots up. The bartender takes the cigarette from her lips and blows out a thin wisp of smoke. She crosses her arm under her chest and gestures for you to continue.
You look up towards the various brown and orange glass bottles behind her. Brands and names you've never heard of before lined the shelf. It isn't until you get to the higher up shelves that you find something you recognize. A bourbon, darker than most. Something your father used to have from time to time.
You lift your finger and gesture to the bottle. She follows it and lets out a little hum.
"The bourbon? Hm. Color me shocked. Alright."
"Two shots...please."
She stops and looks back at you with the bottle in her hand. A small smirk plays on her lips. "See that's how I know you're not from around here. Most people don't say please. Much less recognize a good brand. Most of these assholes just drink rotgut like it's the end of the world."
"I am a bit out of my element." You run your fingers over the wood, brushing your fingertips over the carvings. Wondering what the story was behind each little chip and groove.
Like before she takes two shot glasses between her fingers and places them down on the bar. The bottle is uncorked with a satisfying thoonk. You watch as the liquid catches the bright lights of the bar, making the amber shimmer with the candlelight.
"No kidding. What brings you here?" Once she's finished pouring your drinks she puts the bottle back under the counter. Her hands make themselves busy by collecting the dirty glasses, putting them off to the side.
"I'm looking for someone. Someone said I could find him here."
Like something straight out of one of your penny and dime novels, she begins cleaning the inside of the glass with a rag. When she doesn't say anything, it makes you shift nervously in your seat, but she eventually nods expecting you to continue.
"He's a gunslinger. Tall from what I've heard. Bright red hair?" You do your best to describe a man you've never met. You make a gesture with your hands by your head of his rumored fluffy red hair.
Before you could continue the woman stops cleaning the crystal-clear glass. She puts it down with a loud thud making the men next to you jump and look away. You hadn't even noticed your conversation was garnering attention. She lets out a sigh and pinches the bridge of her nose.
"Yeah, you really aren't from around here. Let me give you a little advice. The man you're describing has a bit of a reputation around here. Only comes around when he's intending to collect."
You blink up at her.
"Bounties sweetheart." She snuffs out the cigarette with a little chuckle. You must have looked like a newborn dear the way you looked at her. Blushing a bit at the thought, you try to push it down. Suddenly the little glass of alcohol in front of you looks far more interesting.
"But my contact said he'd he here."
"Your contact isn't wrong." She pauses for a moment. "Man at your six- don't look." She hisses as you go to turn your head.
"Sorry." You squeak out, snapping your head back towards her.
"Man at your six is wanted in four different states. Highway robbing, harassment, nasty attitude...a perfect blend of asshole."
"Oh..."
"Men like that bring the gunslinger. Now I don't know what you want with someone like him, and I don't want to know. But if you want his attention, when he gets here you had better work fast." She looks down at you as she rubs her neck.
"Wh... why?"
"Because he'll drag that idiot out to the streets and probably duel him. Win. Tie him up and take him into the sheriff's office. Collect his bounty and move on."
"You talk like you know him." It was time for that liquid courage. You knock back the drink and grimace at the taste. It burns and claws its way down your throat.
The bartender lets out a little laugh at your reaction, or maybe it's your question. "I've been around for a while."
"She's also full of shit. She talks like I'm a gun lovin' nut." The low whispering voice next to you makes you turn in your seat.
He's a bit shorter than described but still pretty tall. His hair is exactly as you imagined it to be, curls sticking out from under his usual green cowboy hat. The way his emerald, green eyes peer down at you makes you shrink in your seat. They widen a bit as you squirm away, so he decides to move his head up towards the bartender who's got a smirk on her face.
"You gonna tell me I'm wrong?" she asks, tilting her head to the side.
"No, no just that you make me sound much more dangerous than I am. Just a simple man tryin' to earn enough to eat." He says with a chuckle.
And when he smiles at her, lips curled up so softly. Every part of this man looks so gentle. Even the green tattered sarape around his body looks warm and inviting. It was hard to believe someone so soft looking had a reputation. On the other hand, it made it easier to approach him, maybe this wouldn't be so hard.
The drink you bought for him would probably help too. You recall all the times your father would pour his business partners a drink before pitching a new idea. So, you take the shot glass and scoot it towards him. He blinks down at it before letting out a little chuckle.
"You've got this backwards ma'am. S'pose to be the other way 'round. Man's supposed to buy a pretty woman a drink." Despite it all he takes the shot, and in his hands, it looks too small. He holds it up to you and downs it without blinking. The corners of his lips twitch and his hooked nose wrinkles a bit, looks like he wasn't expecting the stronger stuff.
His compliment makes your cheeks burn; you twist the material of your cloak in your hands. "Well...nothing says a lady can't buy a gentleman a drink, does it?"
"I reckon not. Just ain't used to it s'all." He puts the glass down with a gentle tap. "But you're sittin' in this here bar all by your lonesome askin' for me. So... here I am. Somethin' I can help ya with?"
How much of your conversation with the bartender had he heard? Enough to make you nervous that other people were listening in. Your hands lowered to the derringer strapped to your thigh, under the long skirt no one knew it was there. You palmed the handle and took a deep breath. There was no real plan to use it, but it brought you a little comfort. Just a reminder that it was there.
"Yes I-"
You're cut off by the sound of screams. From a few of the waitresses and working ladies to be exact. You look over your shoulder, it's coming from your six. Where the bartender told you not to look.
 A burly man stands up and when he does, he looms over most of the men in this establishment. Slicked back short black hair tucked inside a crumpled up old bowler. For all the grime and dirt on the man the one thing you could give was that his handlebar mustache looked nice. The rest of him, not so much.
His voice bellows out, bringing an end to upbeat show tunes. "Broflovski! Yous here fer my head ain't ya!"
The man grins like he's proud of the fact that he's garnered such attention. The way he carries himself almost has you fooled if it wasn't for the bead of sweat trailing down the side of his face.
"Not at the moment, no. I was in the middle of havin' a conversation. Rather rude to interrupt a lady Knucklehead." You don't know if Kyle is calling the man a knucklehead or that's just some stupid bandit name.
Either way he sneers and with a flick of his wrist he tosses the gamblers table to the side. Chips and cards go flying up in the air, the poor dealer scrambles to get out of the way.
"I don't care if you was havin' breakfast with the fuckin' Queen of England! You shoulda know better than ta come in 'ere without a lil' backup. See I ain't one fer duelin' so we're gonna have ta do this the ol' fashion way. With yous layin' face down in the dirt bleedin' out ta death!" He whistles and a few more men sitting at other tables stand up.
Couldn't have been more than five or six, every single one of them equipped with some kind of weapon. Rusty nails pushed into wooden boards. Chains being spun around so fast it creates a little breeze. The sounds of their spurs jangling as they start to step closer.
Kyle puts his hands up defensively, the laid-back smile he had on his face falls when they get closer. "Now come on, can't we talk this out. Like I said, I ain't finished my conversation. It'd do you well to learn some manners. Call your men off."
He's not asking. The way he narrows that dark greens at the man makes the room feel cold. For a minute you think you see a spark in those eyes, a glint of something dangerous.
"God damn it..." You almost don't catch the bartender behind you mumbling, but you do hear the rack of a gun clear as day.
It's quiet all except for the way Knucklehead growls, deep and low in his chest. Despite having all these men, he still somehow looks like an animal backed into a corner. The bead of sweat trailing down his face travels lower. Down his cheek, towards his jawline where it hangs. Then...it falls. Drips onto the sawdust covered floor.
Plip
Click. Bang.
You squeeze your eyes shut, feeling someone's hands on your shoulder. You're hoisted in the air and thrown over the bar, you can hear the way glass shatters. Another collection of screams, and then nothing but groaning. When you open your eyes, you're in the arms of the bartender, the woman has the both of you pulled down and tucked behind the bar. Safe certainly isn't the word you'd use here, but it was better than being in the crossfire.
She's got another cigarette lit in her mouth; a shot gun pointed up towards the ceiling. You strain your ears, but you think you can hear her counting in Spanish. You can smell the gunpowder in the air, it's almost as thick as the tension. Then there's a different sound. A grunt of pain and the sound of a chair being broken.
"Thought you could really take us all on?! You're fucking daft!"
The gunslinger lets out a strained laugh, wiping the blood off the corner of his mouth. Splinters of the wooden chair catch in his curls. The man took a hit from the gorilla and is still standing. Well, more like leaning over the side of the bar for support, but nevertheless his eyes are still open.
"Daft is a big word for you Knucklehead. Gotta give it to you!" His voice sounds strained and broken. You catch the way he's struggling to breathe yet still has it in him to snap back.
Without thinking you take the shotgun from the bartender and before she can protest you lower the barrel towards the man. He seems surprised to see you jump up from behind the bar, he must have really not cared that you were there. But a loaded gun that can shoot slugs the size of an acorn sings a different tune.
"Now missy...this ain't got nothin' ta do with you. Yous don't wanna get yourself wrapped up in somethin' I don't think you can handle." Knucklehead's eyes lower to the gun in your hand, the gravity of the situation sinks in. Not enough for him to let the gunslinger’s throat go, but enough to where he's contemplating backing away.
"Let him go. Let him go and back away." You keep your voice steady, that nervous air about you slips away and a different mask comes on.
That mask you've had to wear every time you look danger in the eyes. You don't see a man choking a bounty hunter to death, you see a large target. A light you could snuff out with a twitch of your index finger. You can see it in his eyes, the way he looks down at Kyle, whose smirk has returned. Then back up at you, staring down the barrel of the shot gun. It's cold double barrel unblinking eyes.
"Whattya say Knucklehead... feelin' lucky?" Kyle is able to put a little distance between Knucklehead's hands and his throat. Enough to take another gasp of air and spout some cocky one-liner.
It must have pushed the brute over the edge because he went to move again. If you had to guess it would be to lift Kyle up and use him as a shield. But he doesn't get that far. Doesn't even make it past a muscle twitch because your trigger finger is faster. For the second time that night shots ring out, but this time it's only the bandits scream that fill the air. He goes flying back letting the red head go.
If it wasn't for the bartender, you would have gone flying back as well. The force of a shotgun wasn't something you were used to. Compared to your derringer’s little kicks, the shot gun was in a league all on its own. Her hands keep your body steady, holding you by the waist. She lets out a puff of smoke and sighs.
"Nice shot." Once she realizes you're okay to stand on your own, she breaks the silence with praise and lets you go.
"O-oh...um thanks." It makes your face flare up; the fact the entire bar’s attention is now on you. The wondering eyes make you squirm and want to shrink back down behind the bar.
"Shoot a man dead in his chest and ya get a little flustered over a compliment." Kyle laughs in between trying to catch his breath, his coughs sound painful.
You avert your eyes from him, like it will do your blushing face any favors. Trying to ignore the way his laugh makes your body burn. Something about it makes you feel a bit tingly. It's either that or the adrenaline coursing through your veins. They land on the man bleeding out on the floor. He's clutching his sides spouting so much profanity you feel like you need to confess at the church just hearing it.
Just as Kyle finally gets the ability to breath properly again, the sheriff and his men come bursting through the door. The same sheriff who you had a problem with. The same one who put you on this crazy path. Once again, things could never just be simple. Every little fucking thing had to get in your way.
His eyes fall on the man first, then on you. Then on the gun in your hands and you immediately groan. Of course, he had to come in just as you slugged a man. With a scoff, he gestures to his men to round up the other bleeding bandits. Kyle was able to take down the other group by himself. Their leader using the men as bait so he could close the distance.
You push the shotgun back into the bartenders’ hand and sigh. Kyle watches as you lift your skirt and put your foot on the counter. Without a second thought he offers you his hand and helps you down off the bar. You take it and allow yourself a quick smile. One the sheriff is quick to wipe away.
"It's always you. I guess I didn't make myself very clear." He says with a sneer. "I thought you were smarter than this, seems I was the one mistaken."
You shoot him a look, brows furrowed in confusion. "Sheriff, I didn't start this! I was just defending my um..."
Friend? Soon to be employee? Guy I just bought a drink for. Shot another man for?
"I wasn't talking to you woman!" He snaps, eyes flickering between yours and Kyle's. When they land on the man his eyes narrow. "Was talkin' about this one! Coming into my town, causing trouble! Think just because your daddy was a lawyer you're above the law!"
The look the red head gives him would be enough to kill. Death himself would answer that call. You watch a vein pop out from the side of his temple, his hat and hair barely covering it. Kyle didn't even show that much anger towards the man who threatened his life and interrupted his conversation.
"Sheriff Cartman I wouldn't have to come to this town and clean up your mess if you and your men did your fucking job!" Kyle hisses through gritted teeth, emphasizing the word this like he's reminding the sheriff the town doesn't belong to him.
"I should've known better than to think you could be anything but trouble! I should haul you in with the rest of 'em!" Cartman's voice is dangerous, completely immune to the looks he's getting from Kyle.
"On what grounds?!"
"On the grounds that I'm the fucking sheriff and I'm sick and tired of your bullshit!"
"That ain't enough to bring me in you fat son of a bitch!"
"Let's go ahead and tack on threatenin’ a man of the law to that too! Wanna keep going Kyle?!"
Cartman uses his first name so casually. The air grows heavy again as the two men get into each other space. Neither go for their weapons instead fingers curl around the collar of each other's shirt. Kyle looks like a lit fuse ready to blow and Cartman is just adding fuel to an already dangerous fire.
"A-Actually Sheriff! If I may!" You don't know what compelled you to put yourself in between the two bickering men. Guess there was a little left in the old adrenaline tank, taking down a man twice your size will do that to you.
"What?! Get in my way and I'll make sure to slap you with a fine as well! Helping a criminal won't look good on your record!"
"Criminal!?"
"Gentleman! I believe the lady is trying to talk! Now you either let her talk, or you take this shit outside!" The bartender cuts them both off by slamming her hands on her bar. Her voice isn't loud but it's enough to make both men stop.
The sheriff mumbles something under his breath that makes the bartender narrow her eyes. He turns to you giving you the floor.
"Sheriff just...please hear me out." You've dealt with men like the sheriff before. Men who think they're the smartest man in the room, so it's best to just make them think they're right.
"Fine. Go ahead."
"Thank you. Y-you see...I was just following your advice! You told me to find some help and that's what I did!" As you explain yourself Kyle's brows furrow in confusion. "I was looking to hire Mr. Broflovski here."
"Didn't realize you were selling yourself out now Kyle. Bounty hunting too hard for you?" The sound Kyle's teeth makes as they grind together makes your breath hitch.
"If Mr. Broflovski here agrees, I'd like for him to take me out west. If you think about it this is the best outcome. You wouldn't have to deal with me anymore and I'd be taking him with me."
"Now hold on-"
Cartman cuts him off like he's not even there, at this point Kyle's face matches his hair. "You're leaving? Jesus christ why didn't you lead with that!"
"Yeah..." You smile and let out a little sigh, the whole situation would be a lot funnier if it wasn’t you.
"I tell you what...you leave tonight. You and that ginger fuck get out of my town, my state, my side of the country! I'll give you an hour and if you're not out of here. I'll run you down like dogs!" Sheriff Cartman looks pleased with himself and the whole idea, but the more he speaks the more it comes through gritted teeth.
"Two hours."
"One and a half, only because I'm in a good mood." He clicks his tongue and turns on his heel. "Plus, however long it takes for my useless deputy to book these assholes." Cartman turns his back on both of you and walks towards his posse.
Great. You had an hour and a half to get out of town and you hadn't even asked the famous gunslinger if he was even willing to do this.
"Well, I reckon we outta be on our way." Kyle breaks your thoughts with the sound of his voice.
You look up at him with your eyes widened. He smiles down at you and flicks up his hat, moving the brim out of his face.
"No need to look at me like that. You told the Sheriff we'd be outta here so let's get a move on." He speaks.
Kyle makes his way towards the double doors without so much as a goodbye. You go to follow him but stop, turning back towards the woman behind the bar who is just picking up the broken glass scattered around the bar.
"Um...ma'am." When you call out for her, she turns and looks in your direction.
"Hm?"
"Thank you."
".... You’re welcome, now get outta here. You wouldn't last a day behind bars, so go on. Get."
A soft smile plays on your lips. She was right, you had a long road ahead of you.
The bartender looks back over her shoulder when she hears the double doors close again. She let out a breath she didn't even know she was holding. As she stands up with the metal pan filled with broken glass, her head lulls to the side.
"What I wouldn't give to be a tumbleweed following them. Ya got your work cut out for you Broflovski." A smirk plays on her lips.
Kyle leads you out towards the stables where he kept his horse. She was a pretty horse, a blend of brown and whites painting down her back. She doesn't stir much until Kyle gets closer, when he's within reach she bends down and presses her head against his hand.
He smiles and touches the side of her face, petting the sides gently. There was that soft and warm feeling you got when he first sat down next to you. Even after the bar fight and the whirlwind of events that happened, he found a way to go back to being so gentle. When he turns to look back at you, you quickly find something else to look at. Suddenly the saddle on the back of his horse looks so very interesting.
"I don't s'pose you got your own horse, do ya?" he asks as he unhitches his horse from the post.
"No, I don't. I... wouldn’t even know how to go about riding one." That seems to catch him off guard.
"Hm... We’ll have plenty of time to fix that. For now." Kyle walks over to you and whispers a, ‘pardon me'. His gloved hands cup your hips and lift you up. He lifts you like a child would their doll, like you weigh nothing. He sets you down on the back of his horse, guiding your legs over the side of the large creature.
It feels so strange, the way something so powerful just stands there letting him do it. You cling to the saddle for dear life as it takes a few steps forward and then back. If you had to guess she was just as surprised as you were.
Kyle swings himself up onto the horse shortly after. He puts his arms around your waist, being oh so careful on where he lets his arms rest. His hands find the reigns and it forces him to get closer. Close enough to where you can feel his chest against your back.
You can feel his heart beating against his chest, it makes you feel a little better knowing he seems to be just as nervous as you. At the very least that's what you're telling yourself. You can't see his face, unable to move any part of your body out of fear of falling off.
No, you can't see the blush that’s creeping across his freckled face. Can't see the way it trails down his neck, disappearing behind the layers of his clothes. You would never know how much he's mentally screaming at himself to get a grip.
"Gonna be a little uncomfortable at first. Just bear with me for a while. As soon as we hit the next town, we'll see what we can do about gettin' you your own horse." With that he clicks his tongue and snaps the reigns.
You let out the smallest squeak as the horse goes from a gentle little trot to a full-on sprint. Your hands fly out to grab onto Kyle's arms using the cowboy to steady yourself. A part of you thinks about asking him to just go ahead and drop you off at the holding cell. At least then you could die behind bars and never make such embarrassing noises again. The other part of you felt a twinge of excitement when you heard him chuckle. Feeling the way it made his chest vibrate low. It kept you warm against the cold wind that rushed past you.
It doesn't take long before Kyle feels your body go slack. He peers down at you and feels his heart leap up in his throat. You were tucked up against his chest, arms wrapped around your frame fast asleep. He only wishes that he could slow down so he can take off his sarape and bundle you up in it. Instead, he settles for pulling you closer, caging you in his arms. He'd do everything in his power to make sure the ride was at least a smooth one and by the time you'd wake up, hopefully, he'd have you out of town. And hopefully then he can get more details about this job he blindly accepted from you.
For now, he'd let you sleep as he rode out towards the moon. Nothing but the wind at his back and the large pale light to his front.
Next Chapter ->
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creative-heart · 1 day
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"The one that got away" Enzo Vogrincic x fem! reader
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A/N: Hi! this is the first thing I’ve written in so long, so please be nice. If you have any constructive criticism it’s always welcomed, if it comes from love and respect. I really hope you like this, it’s inspired in kind of a mashup between “The one that got away” by Katy Perry and “Bride or groom” by India Parkman. it’s also written in a third person POV.
Warnings: Basically Angst, all angst, mild drinking. Whatever is in italics is thoughts.
Word Count: 1.6K
The one where reader never spoke up for her love towards Enzo
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It had always been them two against the world, ever since kindergarten when Y/N being the bubbly extroverted redhead girl she had always been, all but adopted sweet shy Enzo, since day one they had been inseparable. Y/N's mom even started calling them June and Johny as they became teenagers, always up to some innocent mischief -from stealing the leftover vodka from the liquor cabinet to grabbing their parents car keys in the night to go take a drive around-. 
It had been so gradually that she had fallen for Enzo that Y/N couldn’t pin point the exact moment, maybe it was after the redhead called him crying at 2 in the morning because that douchebag boyfriend of hers broke it off at 15, or when he ran to the store for the first time to get her tampons cause she had ran out on a Sunday afternoon, and now, here they were. 
“Last day of summer” Y/N sighed looking off into the sunset, while she sat beside the raven haired guy on her parents house roof like they always did “who knew highschool would come and go so fast”.
“And you are abandoning me, breaking a 15 year old promise to never leave me alone…” Enzo retorted in an overly dramatic way just to make his best friend laugh,“I always knew you would leave though, that I would have to face this horrible world alone” and laugh she did while rolling her eyes nudging his side playfully.
“Not my fault you’re bound to be the next big screen hearthrob, and I need to go off to college, not all of us are made for stardom”, she absentmindedly passed the bottle to him before turning slightly to look at that beautiful face she had grown to love, Y/N bit the inside of her lip, once again arguing with herself trying to decide if she should tell him she loved him or not - come on Y/N don’t be such a fucking coward, he’s right here, tell him-, she opened her mouth and took a deep breath she was going to do it, she finally would, when his phone rang.
“Well, that’s me, my brother’s downstairs” he huffed standing up placing a kiss on the top of Y/Ns head “see you later fireball” he chuckled as he got off the roof carefully, the nickname he had given his friend when they were kids still made him laugh to this day, the girl hummed nodding and watched him leave.
~~~~~
Life got busy, and they saw eachother less and less with every passing year. Not that anything changed when they did get to hang out, some things never change -how handsome Enzo was, or how much Y/N loved him for example- their friendship was the exact same that it had always been. 
Y/N tapped her fingers anxiously on the table in the corner of the cafe where they had agreed to meet, five years had gone by and the freckled face woman still felt the same butterflies in her stomach when she was seeing him -he lived in Madrid fulltime now it made it easier for work and she was still back in Montevideo, she was working in a big time law firm, everyone knew she was gonna be a lawyer since forever, always had an argument for everything-. She looked at her phone again and sighed, he was already fifteen minutes late, he never was, she thought maybe this time, life had gotten too busy -he’s clearly not coming, don’t blame him though, he must be so busy- she thought to herself, as she was gathering her stuff to get up, she felt his hand on her shoulder and his usual kiss on the top of her head.
“Sorry fiery, I’m so late, parking in Madrid” he laughed- that oh so enchanting sound that always made her heart skip a beat-, as he sat down across from his lifelong friend. She smiled, everything was forgiven as soon as he looked at her with those dark eyes of his.
“Thought fame had finally gotten to you and you weren’t coming” she pouted while setting her phone back down, she looked at Enzo’s face, something was different, she could tell, something had been different for a bit now, and the change of scenery did nothing to apeace her mind. He rolled his eyes with a warm smile plastered on his face.
“I would never miss the chance to see my best friend are you crazy?” he smiled at the waiter as he brought over the coffee he had ordered on his way in. He took to stirring the sugar in it for way too long, trying to find the words of what he needed to tell Y/N, she looked at him, a tilt in her head, there was something wrong, she could tell, she knew him too well.
“spill it” she said keeping her eyes glued on him he chuckled “you know me to well Y/N/N” he looked up and smiled at her -here goes nothing- he thought.
“I’ve met someone… well…more than met, I have a girlfriend, her name is Marina” he smiled at the mention of her name, Y/N gulped, and forced a smile on her face- she was dying inside, but she would never let it show, not to him, not when he looked this happy. “We met a few months ago, through some mutual friends, she’s a doctor, you will love her. She loves cats and painting, just like you, I can’t wait for you to meet her” he kept rambling on about Marina, he couldn’t help himself, she was the best woman to ever walk this earth besides from Y/N, he KNEW they would get along well- he wanted them to at least, they’re both too important to him in one way or another.
Crap, you’re an idiot, you’re a fucking idiot she kept repeating to herself, Y/N felt her heart sink to the bottom of her stomach, each word her friend said taking it a bit lower, if she had only been braver on that roof when she had the chance- Smile Y/N- she reminded herself, her friend- that word stinging more than it had ever done now- was happy and that was the most important part…right? right.
And he had been right, Y/N eventually met Marina, and she was a sweetheart, and she loved Enzo, it showed, Y/N knew by the way the blonde looked at him that she loved him, because it was the same way she looked at him.
~~~~~
Y/N would be lying to herself if she said she never wished Enzo and Marina broke up, she never lost that hope, relationships not always worked out…hers didn’t at least. But they hadn’t, they seemed to be the perfect power couple, so when her Johny had told her they were getting married and  asked her to be his best woman, she couldn’t say no, she had to be honest, another five years had gone by and the sinking feeling in her gut had never left, it was there every time she saw a picture on his instagram of them two, it got worse every time one of her relationships failed, it just never left.
The twenty-eight year old, fearless woman, who no one wanted to come across in court, somehow felt small and fragile while she looked at herself in the mirror and took a deep breath forcing a smile on her face while finishing her make-up “okay, listen up you”- she gave her reflection a peptalk while she got ready- “you had your chance, you were too scared to take it, it was there and you let it slip away, you have no right to ruin his happiness you’re gonna stand there, you’re gonna be the friend Enzo needs, and you’re gonna tough it out”, the last part coming out shaky as she suppressed a sob, she downed the last of her wine glass and walked out.
She knocked on his door “En, you ready?” she said slightly opening it, just enough to see the most handsome man she had ever seen standing there fidgeting with his bowtie, she laughed and walked in “come’ere, let me help” she turned him around and fixed it for him “there, handsome as ever my dear Johny” she smiled softly looking at him. 
“I’m ready Junie” he smiled a warm, soft smile at her walking out and making their way to the gardens where the ceremony would take place.
As she walked down the aisle, Y/N couldn’t help but think what would have happened if she had been braver that hot day of summer ten years ago- if you had only said something, if you had spoken when you opened your mouth- she reprimanded herself as she walked and took her place beside the love of her life, not in the way she would have wanted, not in the way she still dreamt of every so often, but in the way she could.
When the music started and Marina made her way out, that’s when she finally understood, it didn’t matter what she felt, she could wonder all her life what would have happened if -she probably would if she was honest with herself for once- what would have happened if she’d only been braver, would she be the one walking down the aisle to meet the man she had loved for over ten years, the man she still loved to that day? that was something that she would never know, for now, she could only look at the Johny to her June, and fake the brightest smile as the love of her life, married the love of his.
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A/N: aaarrghhh I’m so sorry about ending it on a down note, it just didn’t feel right to turn it all around, and it being inspired in those songs, wasn’t a happy ending, don’t hate me! please? 
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soulmvtes · 2 months
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seeing the holdovers at the cinema soon !!! so excited
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purgeshubble · 9 months
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yes, the url has been changed. its exciting times here lmfao. tbh my last one was always supposed to be an in-between one and I have finally decided on a replacement. its a v similar one just like three more steps to the niche-r side lol.
I will reblog this a few times so ppl see ! but the icon is the same so I think you’ll recognise me. probs the most relevant thing is that I’ll now be tracking purgeshubble. so continue to tag me in ur shit (or start!). but yeah, thats all folks <23
#apollo talks#ay. i finally did it. instead of just talkign abt wanting to do it in the tags#also. i feel like it needs to be said. this isnt like a url about wanting shubble to like die or smth. its abt a two year old minecraft smp#anyways. i dont think anyone ever followed me for empires stuff. i think most of mcyt ppl are more in the niche catagory with me#so this won out again slackhomies for the reason of i havent finished s2 yet#and that would ofc be associated with him in that too#also. i think think the fact that im pretty behind shows that i dont have the same love of it that i do the others#(tbh i think s2 of purge also has this issue. and the issue is i couldnt binge them tbh lmao)#anyways. purge s1 was like the first thing i actually managed to watch for minecraft (in like ten years)#like chilled five hour video. i tried to watch it like five times and gave up bc so quickly#and then finally. i did not give up. and here we are#so yeah. homies s1 is probs? my favourite overall for like watching. but i def have more purge s1 thoughts#and also. having shubble there makes it very known that its abt s1#and also i changed up my description box a little bit more. cut off they/xe pronouns bc while i do vibe.#i would muchh rather ppl use/think abt me using coe ones (or it/ve/he if needed)#i mean no one rly talks in that third person kidna way. but when ppl do... oh babey#also changed the order of my ao3 n tracking. like i put ao3 in front and u kinda have to click in to see that im tracking this#but its literally my url. and my ao3 account isnt. so yeah.#for real this time. thats all folks
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roturo · 3 months
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-; ੈ♡˳ MINISKIRT
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JJK MEN REACTING TO YOU TEASING THEM WITH A MINISKIRT! ★༉‧₊˚✧
(gojo satoru, geto suguru, choso kamo, nanami kento)
contents: smut, nsfw, sub behavior, PRAISE, miniskirts, unprotected sex, cunnilingus, whimpering, overstimulation, edging, jealousy, sub-space, fluff, possesive behavior, all of them being DOWN for you, and lovesick for you.
A/N: wrote this while watching the office and drunk so npr, and proabably took so long to write because of this.
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gojo satoru
He knows what you’re trying. That’s why he doesn’t give in. And it’s much more difficult when that tiny miniskirt is the color of his eyes, matching perfectly with a top as small as your skirt of his hair color.
Bending over the table just so he could see the matching panties while you ‘try to have a closer look to what Nanami is showing you’ – And he doesn’t know what angers him more, the fact you’re doing this to annoy him and probably other people behind you are watching your panties which he’s trying to cover with his body, or the fact Nanami is more likely watching your tits through that tiny top you’re wearing right now. 
He pinches the back of your thigh, making you squeak and sit again as a reaction– looking to your side finding Satoru giving you a glare easily expressing ‘stop what you´re doing’ – and maybe that’s what makes you more eager to tease him now that you’re feeling the wetness coming out of you.
And you know he’s suffering right now. Not only because he’s jealous, but because you’re giving a small piece to someone else of what he supposed it was his.
“Nngh- please baby, i’m sorry- but I couldn’t stand him watching how precious you looked” His cries went to deaf ears as you rode him, edging him for the third? fourth? time. He had some ‘childish’ (that’s what you called it) outburst because he couldn’t stand you teasing him like that, and suddenly after pinching your thigh moved you towards his lap after you sat so you could feel his raging erection and broke Nanami’s chair with the cursed energy he couldn’t control coming out of his body. Something completely new for him.
“Please princess, it was just- You’re so beautiful I can’t let anyone to- I… I just can’t get enough of you.” He ghosted his lips with yours, trying to kiss them but you wouldn’t let him. You were close to another orgasm too, he was yearning for your touch, begging to whatever god stronger than him so you could give him permission to cum.
Who would’ve thought, huh? 
If Mahito, Sukuna or any of those fuckers watched him lose control to a girl they woulc’ve laughed at his face, but if they experienced how good it was to be inside of you, feeling your liquids coat him and his pelvis while they come out of you— even though you don’t let him cum, they would’ve understand. 
But he won’t let them get even 2 meters near you.
You started kissing his neck, marks that will be very prominent in just some hours, his whimpers bringing you to heaven even with how slow you rode him, just one thrust and he swears he could cum– overstimulation taking the best of him, you just pecked his lips one time and did as what he imagined and failed to keep it in.
“Aw baby, you ruined it! Why couldn’t you wait for me? Wanted to cum so badly? It’s okay, but cum again, okay? Be my good boy and make me cum again mhm?”
geto suguru
Are you doing this on purpose? Or you don't really notice? He swears people could see his raging erection from 10 meters afar, quirks of having a big cock, i guess.
And it’s so fucking embarrasing trying to hide it with the shopping bags you gave him to carry, not only he looked in an awkward position while walking, but the friction– and having you infront of him walking with that mini skirt, would make everyone crazy.
He swears he could just cum while walking and watching your hips move and tease him with your body. 
But you just were clueless. Getting excited to find the store you were looking for and do small jumps which had him rolling his eyes to conceal his need for you.
And he was getting needy. Spraying kisses all over your neck when he back-hugged you, he was making it obvious now! Rubbing himself on you, he needed it.
When you finally arrived home, he couldn’t stand it anymore, throwing away the bags somewhere in the kitchen carrying you– having to steady yourself by grabbing what you could from his back and not fall face into the floor while your legs were hanging on his front.
He carried you all the way into your bedroom and dropped you down softly on your bed while he plastered kisses all over your thighs mumbling about how much he missed being between your thighs and how you’ve been playing games with him this entire day.
You were suddenly overcome with excitement. Your clit throbbed and you desperately needed release. Your breath hitched in anticipation. All you could think about was letting Geto finally give you what you’ve been planning this whole day. 
“You’re so perfect. So perfect f´me– and all you been doin’ this day was tease me with that tiny skirt of yours baby- had to control myself to not go crazy over ya’”
At times like this, where Geto is kneeling right in front of you with his face buried in the middle of your legs, you are grateful that you lived alone. Because it means you don’t have to hold back your moans when Geto swipes his tongue on your clit. You don’t have to hold back as he roams his tongue around your entrance.  You know you genuinely lost it when he wrapped his lips around your bud, giving it a hard suckle that made your hips bucked. Out of instinct, your hand went to his hair. Gripping around the strand of it just to push his head closer to your cunt, letting the tip of his nose pressed against it. 
He inhaled, he fucking inhaled to let your scent filled his nose as if his tongue isn’t enough to make you feel stars.  Soon enough, you are on your knees, with your face buried on your pillow, tears pooling around your teardox as Geto has his mouth back to your pussy. His tongue moves in and out your hole to build up your orgasm. 
“What happened to my teasing girl mhm?”
choso kamo
Poor him. How did he end up in this situation? He swears all he did was give a small peek through your skirt because how couldn’t he?!
You were bending in front of him! And you’re even meaner because you know he has a crush for you since….ever. Kinda embarrassing to be honest. Because he acts like a kid having a crush, even worse, like when a little kid had a crush on their old brothers/sister friends… 
But. He won't lie he loves when you punish him like this. Because you praise him for being such dork for you. 
"It's okay, baby, you're doing so well for me right now," you lean down and place small kisses on his tear-stained cheeks, his red nose with his black mark and his eyelids eliciting a broken sob from him, "Think you can handle a little while longer, puppy?"
And he’s not thinking very clearly right now– Not when you’re pumping his cock in that tempo that has him seeing stars and crying out loud for you.
“yesyesyesy princess– oh my god- oh my fucking god… i´m sosososoooo lucky to be here with you baby, I love you soo much, i’m so, fuck, nngh!”
He was coming for a fifth? six? time right now. He swears he heard something about you telling him you won’t stop jacking him off until he cums dry. 
Choso looked at you, sniffing and wrapping his hand around yours, "But I want to fuck you now..." He mumbled barely audible to you, and you had to close your eyes and take a deep breath or you would've done what he told you to.
And he’s fucking excited for that. To fucking lose his mind and body to you. To dump all his cum wherever and whenever you wanted.
nanami kento
This little fucking pervert! He acts like this ‘oh so mature guy’ when he’s just as down for you as you are for him. He tried not to fall for you once he saw you for the first time in a mission both of you coincidentally crashed into. Being from another part of the world and suddenly connecting through these annoying curses.
But what annoyed him the most was how ‘inappropriate’ you are while working. Wearing those miniskirts of different colors for work. For work!
How is he supposed to focus? How is he supposed to train? Not when you’re moving your legs with that skirt that barely covers your butt and he easily sees the figure of it and your lips begging to be released to be tasted. By him. 
And you finally have him where you wanted, right between your legs. 
Your moans echo inside your bedroom, and maybe tomorrow you will have your neighbor file a noise complaint to you, but you didn’t mind. To have Kento’s attention only to you worth everything. 
At first, Kento wasn't the biggest fan of the size difference between you two, he felt almost too big compared to you.
Well, that was before he knew how good could fuck your needy cunt.
You were just barely holding onto his shoulders, leaving scratch marks that he would not even bother covering up, holding you with ease against the wall. "That's right, bunny, say my name and mark me, let everyone know I'm all yours, let them hear how good I fuck you," Kento whined and clung to you, feeling his cock pumping in and out of your small body, tilting his head forward to look down at the connection between your bodies.
The obvious outline of his length on your lower belly made him roll his eyes to the back of his head, your trembling legs wrapping around his hips, keeping his cock buried deep inside your pulsing pussy, feeling it wanting to milk every drop of his cum.
"Fuck me, more... I need more of your cock kento, please~!"
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harrysfolklore · 3 months
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tom blyth being obsessed with his girlfriend: a compilation
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this was inspired by @astranva’s famous blurbs, love you and miss you novs <3
MASTERLIST | MY PATREON
It seemed like the entire world was crushing on the same man: Tom Blyth
Unfortunately for those who watched The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes and came out of the theater in love with the man who played Coriolanus Snow, he was happily taken and loved to talk about his girlfriend any chance he got, which lead to fans making several compilations about the times he was a simp over his girl.
The most popular video was a 10 minute and 33 seconds compilation, which had around 445k views.
It started with Tom's interview with Good Morning America to talk about Billy the Kid, the interviewer asking about how he prepared for the role.
"It was during the pandemic, like any actor during that time I was just hoping that the world came back to normal so I could start making a cent," everyone in the set laughed at this, "I was living with my girlfriend YN in a barn house and we were like chopping wood every morning and visiting my friend's ranch. So when I got the part I kinda felt like I was ready for it."
"Your girlfriend, you say," one of the interviewers said making Tom smile right away, "Did she help you prepare for the role too?
"Of course she did, she's my biggest supporter ever."
The video moved to show some behind the scenes of Songbirds and Snakes footage, Tom dressed in his peacekeeper costume and dancing around while Rachel recorded him.
"See this moves?" he got closer to the camera, "I used them to charm my girlfriend."
"And I doubt they worked." Rachel laughed behind the camera.
"She loves me so I'm pretty sure they did."
The next thing shown was Tom sitting next to Hunter as they did an interview for Rolling Stone, the crew just asked about their thoughts on Olivia Rodrigo's single for the movie.
"I love Olivia Rodrigo," Hunter cheerfully said, throwing her arms up to the air, "The new album is so good."
"I'm a big fan as well," Tom joined in, "My girlfriend YN, she's obsessed with her, plays her songs all the time."
"Just so everyone knows, YN is like the coolest person ever," Hunter said, making Tom smile, "She brought us snacks on set so many times, such an angel."
"She's the best."
The following footage was Tom and Rachel's rapid-fire questions with Vogue.
"Can you guess where this is from?" Rachel asked holding up a card that showed a zoomed in picture of a suit.
"That's my Prada suit from the London premiere," Tom asked confidently, Rachel confirming that he was correct, "My girlfriend YN loved that suit, that's why It's one of my favorites."
"Oh I miss YN."
"So do I, so do I."
Next clip was Tom's interview Stephen Colbert, who just asked him if he was a fan of the books growing up.
"I was such a huge fan, I grew up watching the films. My mom and sister used to go to opening weekends to see the movies," the audience cheered at that, "Actually, for my third date with my girlfriend I took her to see the last movie, so getting to play a young president Snow is a real honor."
The video quickly moved to show the lat clip, one of Tom's interviews at the London premiere of the movie.
"Are you here on your own? No date?" The interviewer said once Tom finished answering the previous question.
"I'm here with my girlfriend, actually," his face beamed as he spoke, "She's probably somewhere taking selfies with Hunter, those two are like best friends."
"Is she close to your cast mates?" the interviewer asked again.
"Definitely, they try to steal her from me and I can't blame them, she's the best."
4K notes · View notes
gutsby · 26 days
Text
Homemade
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Pairing: dbf!Joel x Reader
Summary: While your dad’s watching a movie downstairs, you and his best friend decide to make one of your own.
Warnings: 18+. Sneaky sex tape fun with dbf!Joel ;-) Unprotected p-in-v. Age gap. Daddy kink. Facefucking. Joel being the world’s worst cameraman. Shower sex. Overstimulation via adjustable shower head. Dirty talk. Screaming ‘daddy’ too loud, and your father shows up.
Translations: In Chile, pico is slang for penis. Joel’s is big.
Part of the Waiting Game series
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“If this ever ends up on PornHub, I’ll kill you, Miller.”
Joel knew you meant it, too.
The only reason you’d agreed to make this dumb little ‘home video’ at all was because you were headed back to college tomorrow and wouldn’t see him again until May. Doing long distance was tough, but doing long distance while simultaneously trying to keep a risqué, torrid, and totally-not-age-appropriate love affair with your father’s best friend under wraps was infinitely more difficult. This was the safest way to keep desire alive in the meantime.
Immortalized on a Sony CCD-TR70—because neither one of you trusted iCloud to keep a sex tape secret.
It had also been the only video camera you could find in the closet before your dad had plopped down on the couch just outside your room and announced he would be watching Oppenheimer for the third time. You’d had to scurry off fast before he could invite you to join him.
“I’ll be damned—this thing’s gotta be as old as I am,” Joel mused as he stood at the foot of the bed, camcorder pointed at your semi-nude form.
“I didn’t know they had cameras back in the Stone Age.”
Your smirk didn't flinch, even when Joel flipped you off.
You were lying on your side, head propped up on one hand while the other picked at a few loose strings from the comforter. The lacy, pastel pink bustier holding your tits in place was currently making breathing feel like a chore, and your skin was on fire from the warmth of the room, but you tried not to show it. Joel twisted a dial.
“Alright, now...flash ‘em for daddy,” he grinned as soon as the lens focused in where he wanted: your cleavage.
You rolled your eyes.
“A little closer, please,” you said, patting the space in front of you.
Joel didn’t need to be told twice. With one hand still cradling the camera, he clambered over the bed so fast he nearly tripped and took a nosedive in the headboard. You had to cover your mouth to contain a shriek of laughter—and terror—as his frame barreled into yours.
“JOEL!”
Fortunately, your cameraman was quick to recollect himself, planting a knee on either side of your chest once he’d knocked you onto your back. Then, from above, he angled the grey-black hunk of metal just a foot away:
“Anything you’d like to say to the folks watching at home, ma’am?” Joel inquired, suddenly assuming all the poise and matter-of-fact elocution of a news reporter.
You stuck your tongue out at the camera and blew the wettest, fattest raspberry you could muster in response.
Joel hummed, zoomed in on your lips, and nodded.
“Fascinating,” he said, pretending to make sense of the fart noise you’d just made with your mouth, “Have you ever given thought to maybe...sucking cock on camera?”
The swiftness with which he was able to dodge your kick was remarkable. He swayed the camera just out of reach before you could shove it away and say, ‘Joel, quit being GROSS’ and he promptly replied, ‘Ain’t that the whole point of a sex tape, sweet pea? Bein’ a little bit gross?’ And you playfully tried to kick him again, only this time, he caught your foot and yanked you closer to him. He turned the camcorder back to your face and grinned.
“That’s my little pornstar,” he murmured with affection. Then, zooming in again, this time to find your panty line, “Riiiiight there.”
You knew giving Joel Miller recording privileges for an occasion as momentous as this was a bad idea. At the rate you were going now, you’d be seeing the sunrise through the window before you ever got a glimpse of his dick. You needed to take matters into your own hands.
Literally.
You crawled on all fours to get to Joel across the bed.
The man, kneeling with the camera pointed in your direction, looked up to cock a brow at you.
“Sweetheart, hey, can ya do that one more—”
“Hush,” you muttered, closing in on his crotch. 
Your head was lowered so you could undo the front of his jeans. Because of this, your back was arched, and your ass was pointed up just the slightest bit. For a second, Joel seemed torn between tilting the lens to your lower half or your face, which was inching ever closer to the bulge in his trousers. In time, he landed on the latter.
He swallowed. That sight never got old—and seeing it displayed on the camcorder’s semi-grainy screen only made it that much hotter. Joel shifted on his knees while you worked him out of his boxers, watching the nimble movements of your fingers as you wrestled the fabric.
“Wanna—” Glancing to the side of the bed, “—maybe—”
“Yup.”
Both of you liked it better on the floor: you on your knees in front of Joel, chin tilted up to see his reactions as you sucked him off. You loved to sink between his legs and then see and feel nothing but him, brain going blank the moment his cock filled your mouth. Joel slid a pillow under your knees before widening his stance some.
“Is it on?” Your hand was wrapped firmly around the base of his cock and your lips were hovering an inch from the tip. You resisted the urge to lick the precum off just yet.
“Darlin’, it’s been on ever since you stepped outta the bathroom in that— that—” Joel seemed to be searching for a word when the head of his cock was enveloped in a kiss. You dragged your tongue across the slit of him and collected the hot, salty beads with a muffled moan.
Then you pulled off.
“Teddy,” you said, reminding him of the name for that pretty little tulle and lace getup you currently had on.
“Teddy,” Joel echoed, his mind a million miles away from any lingerie jargon at the moment. He held the camera tighter as you took him back into your mouth and sank deeper on his cock. He struggled to keep it steady.
It was strange, watching Joel and the rounded glass of the lens as you did this dirty thing that was only meant to be shared between you and him. Knowing it would be recorded, saved for future viewing, displayed on some dimly lit screen in Joel’s bedroom maybe one, twice, or more likely than not, several dozen times over the next three months. You wondered how you might look from this new point of view; though, you weren’t so sure you needed to know what sight Joel was made privy to while you sucked and hollowed your cheeks around his cock.
As it turned out, that uncertainty wasn’t meant to last you very long, because Joel flipped the camera’s screen around two seconds later. Some sepia-tinted, pixelated rendition of your face, framed by the date and time and a bright red flashing dot beside the word ‘REC’ were the first to greet you. You flinched back just a little.
“Joel,” you said, almost bashful, “Flip it back.”
Joel just grinned. Then he laced his fingers through your hair and tugged you closer to him, thumb stroking over your scalp, “C’mon, darlin’, don’t ya wanna see how goddamn pretty ya look on your knees for me?”
You didn’t think you looked pretty at all. In fact, you reckoned your features looked something more like an alien utility funnel than a real, human face as you tilted your chin inward and seemed to be nothing but eyes and a hollowed-out expression, but you let Joel guide you back onto him all the same. You heard a low rumble of pleasure take shape in his chest as your lips slid over his shaft. Your gaze remained glued to the screen as you did.
Wet with saliva and a few faint traces of precum, you continued to bob your head up and down. Joel’s groans grew louder, and your drive to take him further and further surged as well. By the time his hand was tightening into a white-knuckled fist in your hair, you’d nearly taken him all the way to the back of your throat, and your nose was no more than an inch from the soft tufts of hair on his belly. Joel let out a shuttering breath.
“Fuck me,” he heaved. You might’ve smiled if your lips weren’t otherwise occupied. Then he clenched his hand even harder and murmured, “Can you— can I, please—”
Again, you didn’t need him to finish the rest of the question to know what he wanted. You moved your head back just slightly to nod, a low, ‘Mhmm’ reverberating down the length of his dick as you gave him permission. Joel swallowed and set the camera aside immediately.
He placed it on the nightstand, perfectly level with your head, to the side. Then he rotated the device just a bit, took one glance at the screen, and shortly returned to where you were watching him with wide, glossy eyes.
“Ready?” he asked. His right hand now joined the left at the back of your head, but not before thumbing a quick touch over your cheek to get a feel for your approval.
You hummed once more. You watched Joel’s hips move forward, hands secure around your scalp all the while, and you felt a gentle nudge at the back of your throat. Then another. You couldn’t help the impulse to gag, but thankfully, it was short-lived. Joel peered down at you, eyes searching yours for any plea to stop or slow down, but he found nothing. He sheathed himself deeper until your lips were brushing the base of his dick. He groaned.
“That’s a good…fuckin’ girl,” he managed, voice strained, “Takin’ my cock so deep.”
He shifted his hips to move an inch or two out, then slid his cock forward again, bumping that spot at the top of your throat. This time, you were better adjusted to take him and felt your muscles expand and contract around him without activating your gag reflex. Your eyes stayed trained on his face while he dragged his cock back again.
“My pretty girl and her—” Joel stabbed back into you, somehow tender in the way he did it, “—pretty fuckin’ mouth…Sweet thing likes gettin’ facefucked, does she?”
With the increased pace of his thrusts and the grip he had on the sides of your head, you couldn’t quite answer, but Joel could tell from the glint in your eye that you loved when he manhandled and fucked your throat like this. Watched the light sear gently behind those irises as you swallowed every inch of his cock, back and forth, and let your brain break down to little more than a happy, mindless mush. Joel was always keen to oblige you on that front—aroused to no end at the sight of all your thoughts being fucked straight out of your head—and within the next few thrusts, his gut was giving a familiar clench. He pulled halfway out of your mouth, paused, felt the pinch again, then withdrew from your lips fully.
“Get on the bed.”
You straightened back up and made it over to the mattress, quickly. Before you could assume the position you’d been hoping to take on all fours, you felt yourself flipped on your back. Joel yanked your hips to the edge of the bed and kneeled down between your legs. Hooked his fingers under the waistband of your panties and had them shuffled down your thighs and past your ankles in no time at all. Then, when he lowered his lips to your wet, aching core, you pressed a touch to the crown of his head.
“Joel, wait,” you said. All of a sudden your chest felt tight.
In spite of the fact that your airways were open and completely free from any obstruction—namely, Joel’s big ol’ pico—you still found it difficult to inhale. Some murky, amorphous sense of anxiety weighed over your chest.
When your hand didn’t move from his head and instead pushed him further, Joel furrowed his brows, perplexed.
“What’s’a matter, darlin’?”
You shook your head, more to yourself than to him.
“I haven’t…just— haven’t washed down there today…o-or shaved,” you stammered, “Don’t want you to taste it.”
That was largely a lie. You’d bathed, shaved, and prepared for this just fine, but really were more concerned about the novel optics that loomed overhead. Being filmed in such a singularly vulnerable state without knowing how to act. You were fine when the attention was focused on Joel and his pleasure, but something about having your every whimper and moan laid bare before you on film felt daunting. Unnerving, in a way.
Joel frowned while rubbing your thigh. His brow pinched inward again, as if he were considering something.
Then he moved across your body, and your muscles eased with relief at the thought that he’d just let it go and get to fucking you exactly how you wanted. You reached for him, ready to wrap your legs around his waist, when a yelp clawed out of your throat. You found that you didn’t get to touch his chest, or his cheeks, or his big, broad, beefy shoulders, as you were promptly thrown over the latter of the three body parts and lifted when Joel stood up from the bed. He started carrying you across the room, heedless of the startled, ‘What the FUCK, Miller?’ you’d cried the second he took one step.
Hardwood floors transformed to tile before your eyes, and shortly, you realized you were being brought into your bathroom.
You heard the squeak of some metal knob being turned, then a brief sputter, then a spray of water raining down on your shower floor. You were still being held hostage over Joel’s shoulder, try as you might to bite at his lower back or smack his ass in an attempt to break loose.
He set you down a second later, seemingly unfazed.
“Get in.” He nodded toward the shower.
Before you had a chance to respond, he left. You stood back in disbelief—refusing to go into the shower and let Joel have his win—but just as you opened your mouth to call out and tell him as much, his form slipped back in through the door. Naked, now, and wielding that stupid, goddamned camcorder with a devious glint in his eye.
“Will you—” You held out a defensive hand in front of you, cheeks already heating, “—stop with that?!”
Secretly, the corners of your lips were fighting a smile as Joel drew closer with the camera held up to your face.
“There she is, folks,” he announced, as though speaking to a crowd, or else reading off of a script from the world’s most cheesy porno, “My dirty, dirty girl says she needs a shower—don’t ya, sweet pea?”
It sounded so ridiculous and dumb that neither one of you could keep from laughing. Even as you lifted your middle finger in response, Joel grinned and smacked your ass. Steadied the camera out in front, nudged you closer to the shower, and watched you somewhat begrudgingly obey his orders. Once you’d stripped what little remained on your body, you stepped into the tub.
Add to ‘ridiculous and dumb’ just wildly unsexy as well—who the hell needed a soapy interlude to a sex tape?
Joel Miller, apparently. He constricted his grip on the camera and followed you in, tongue already skimming the backs of his teeth in anticipation. You turned away to step under the shower’s stream, and he wasted no time getting a shot of your derrière. You leaned forward and sighed.
The water worked wonders to get your muscles to loosen some, but still, you were nervous. You could clean up now, stall a little longer, maybe even offer to give Joel head again—but what if he really wanted to eat you out on camera? You couldn’t put off the conversation forever.
Or another minute, it seemed.
You let out a shriek when you felt Joel’s fingers sneak up between your thighs. You hardly knew what he was doing, just folding limply when he spun you around to press your back against the shower wall. Your eyes widened to see him descending your body once more.
“I lied,” Joel said, smirk painted clear across his features, “You’re not dirty—I just wanted to eat your pussy in the shower ‘s’all.”
Chivalry was evidently alive and well in Austin, Texas.
No truer words could have been spoken, and yet, you felt wildly uncomfortable the second Joel’s head dipped between your legs and that big, dumb, handsome face started licking stripes up your sensitive core. You cast a glance to the side and saw the camcorder perched on the sink—just through the open slit in the shower curtain, you could see it pointed directly at you.
You shivered and started to push Joel away.
“Can we maybe just—”
“Sweetie?!”
Joel’s lips tore out of your cunt quicker than a sneeze through a screen door. His eyes were wide.
“Y-Yeah, dad?” you squeaked, tone almost fearful.
“Everything okay in here? I heard ya scream,” your dad returned shortly.
You could only imagine the expression of confusion and distress painting his every lineament in that moment. Probably just barely sticking his head through the crack in the door and blinking anxiously through the steam.
Your dad was caring like that.
He just never knew the right times to show up.
No, there were very few times where you would’ve liked to see him less—apart from that one time you’d sucked Joel’s dick under the table at your dad’s birthday dinner. Your heart was thudding a wild, erratic beat in your chest, and you could only imagine how Joel was feeling. Probably seeing visions of a Size 11 boot being shoved up his ass if his friend happened to slide the shower curtain to the side and see him nose-deep in his daughter’s box.
That would be bad. So very, very bad and probably ten times worse than when Tommy had caught you blowing his brother at the aforementioned birthday party. You just couldn’t seem to catch a break these days.
You sucked in a breath and answered anyway.
“I thought I saw a spider.”
“Really?” You could already sense the embittered tinge to your dad’s voice, harking back to the war he’d once declared on all wolf spiders in the home, “Want me to kill it?”
The next thing you heard was two boots thud on the bathroom floor outside the shower, and you could’ve sworn you saw Joel’s whole soul leap from his body. He shot a frantic look around him, spotted a window above, and seemed to wonder for half a second if he might be able to shimmy his 188-pound frame through a space that probably wasn’t big enough to fit a fat raccoon. He slumped his weight against the shower wall and winced.
“No! I— It wasn’t even a spider. Just a…roach.”
Shortly, Joel’s eyes widened even more and met yours, as if to ask, ‘Why the FUCK would you say that?’
“A roach?!” your dad cried simultaneously.
Apparently, you’d forgotten that any derivative of the word ‘cockroach’ was like a sleeper agent activation phrase for middle-aged fathers who wanted to keep their homes free of all household pests. The look on Joel’s haggard, world-weary face communicated as much to you, and for a second, you remembered that he, too, was built the same way as any other semi-old dude you knew.
Just bigger and beefier and…harder below the belt than you would’ve expected most men around his age to be.
You quickly chided yourself for ogling Joel’s dick at a time like this and replied to your father, shrill, “No!”
Then, slightly more composed, “No, no— I already took it out with some hairspray and told it to fuck off to hell.”
An attempt at humor was the last leg you had to stand on. Fortunately, it worked.
Outside the shower, your dad chuckled, and his footsteps started to shuffle off toward the door.
“Ah. Atta girl,” he beamed, ever the advocate for brutal cockroach killings, “If you see another, just holler, okay?”
“Okay.”
You heard the sound of the bathroom door closing, and you almost fell to the floor. Joel probably would’ve been facedown just as well—fear seeping out of his body along with every last ounce of willpower to stand—had he not made a dive for you as soon as your dad had left.
The force of his push sent you straight into the wall, legs forced to wrap around his waist as he buried his face in your neck.
“Thank fuck,” he breathed.
“You’re welcome,” you murmured, swiping the water out of your eyes with a grimace.
Then, just as you were about to request that Joel lower you back down to the floor and out of the shower’s spray, you felt a nudge between your legs. Luckily not a tongue this time—just Joel, or the tip of his leaking cock. The man below you grinned, and for the first time in a long time, you felt a wash of relief. Could it be?
“I’ll still eat you out if y’want,” he started, though speaking with a little less conviction this time around, “But after all that I, uh—kinda jus’ wanna fuck ya stupid.”
Well thank fuck for fake spiders and cockroaches, too; you’d just averted a dreaded tonguefuck, thanks to that detour.
You’d worry about your pornstar moans and on-camera charisma another time—now you could just sit back and let Joel do all the work while he took you against the wall.
Really, there was no need to concern yourself with anything at all from that point forward. Once you’d given Joel the green light, he was sinking you onto his cock with a grunt and making sure you felt nothing but him. His hands found your hips and held you firmly in place as he rutted into you from below, your own fingers latching onto his shoulders for some much-needed support. Both of you knew that you needed to be extra quiet now—seeing how sound seemed to carry in that tight, tiled space—so Joel snagged your lips in his for a kiss.
He was practically panting in your mouth by the time you started meeting his thrusts. His fingertips slid some and must’ve seared ten perfect crescents into the flesh of your ass as he fucked you into the wall.
“Look so pretty like this,” he whispered in between kisses and short, shallow breaths. His cock parted your insides with an excruciating welt of pleasure, and he hardly even seemed to realize it, “Look so damn pretty takin’ cock.”
Then, lips kicking up in a smile when it seemed he’d remembered something, he added, “Can’t wait to play this tape back home and watch us fuck all over again.”
Again. Again. And again. Shit, you could just see it now.
Your eyes traversed the compact shower space once more to find the video camera—still perched, still live, still perfectly implacable and silent atop the sink as it recorded your every grunt, groan, and shuddering moan. You were nearly as curious to know what Joel’s bare ass looked like rutting into you like this as you were to hear yourself getting railed against the shower wall. Maybe you’d beat this fear of secondhand embarrassment after all.
Maybe.
Joel’s teeth snagged your bottom lip and bit it, lightly.
“Every chance I get, you can bet I’ll be thinkin’ ‘bout this…sweet pussy while you’re away,” he said, voice low and occasionally punctured by a groan, “Say one more thing f’me and I’ll…cum every time I watch this part.”
The kinks at the corners of his lips were endearing. You would’ve liked to supply them with just about anything they could’ve wanted, so when they leaned into your ear and murmured just what it was they needed to hear, you only hesitated a second.
Or maybe two or three, because, well…it was risky.
Moaning ‘daddy’ out loud at a time like this? It might get Joel off quick, but it might send your real dad running even faster. You weren’t crazy about the thought of anything that might draw the man’s attention again.
Joel seemed a little less risk-averse than you, notwithstanding the window-leaping fear he’d felt when your dad had rushed in before. Leave it to a criminally horny man to have the memory of a goldfish, though.
At present, Joel was blinking and gawking a bit like one, too, waiting for you to enunciate that one magic word.
You couldn’t deny he made a damn cute desperate sex fiend when he wanted to be. And you needed to cum.
You figured you could cut a deal with him just this once.
“Alright,” you mumbled against the top of his stubbled lip, “Make me cum and I’ll say anything you want, Miller.”
You weren’t sure if it was a chuckle or a strangled moan that jumped up in his throat when Joel squeezed your sides tighter. All you knew was that he was lowering you to the floor in the next instant, spinning you around, and walking you forward, swiftly and with purpose, toward the opposite end of the shower. Right where the crack in the curtain made you most visible to the camcorder.
Joel’s hand snaked around your front and gently eased between your legs. Then, pressing his chest to your back and nudging you to bend just slightly at the waist, he tipped your bodies closer to the camera’s line of vision and stilled. From the LED screen, you could see the ghost of a smile crossing his lips as he shifted his head beside your own. Next, they were kissing across your shoulder, your neck, that sensitive spot behind your ear, and finally the shell of it, brown eyes trained on the camera lens as he murmured to you, “Stay real still.”
You didn’t know if you could. But you tried. And you damn near cried when his fingers started working circles over your clit. Your body was raised on tip-toes, and your hand was bracing the wall as Joel fucked you from behind and made a mess of your wet, writhing body. In no more than three or four strokes, your fears of looking or sounding stupid on camera trickled away with all the rest of the silent, sizzling liquids circling the drain below. Your cheek pressed against Joel’s rougher one, and with the push of each new thrust, you came more unraveled.
When Joel’s hand closed over the front of your throat, you didn’t flinch. Didn’t move—couldn’t move, as the man was holding you still in such a taut, rigid grip.
“What do we say when we get fucked this nice, baby?” Joel whispered in your ear, words almost entirely masked by the sounds from the shower. You still heard it, though.
“T-Thank you,” you stuttered, cockdrunk and faint.
“Thank you, what?”
Your eyes were fluttering closed, but you could feel the smug expression just over your shoulder. You clenched around him and felt him snap his hips ahead even harder.
“Thank you, daddy,” you whimpered.
“Say it again.”
“Thank you, daddy!” you whined, still scared to be too loud.
Joel wasn’t scared. His hand ascended the column of your neck to pinch your chin between his fingers, jerking your head to the right.
To the crack in the curtain. To the camera.
You could’ve cried with how fast he was fucking you now. You opened your eyes and cast a pathetic look to the recorder. Joel made sure you maintained that gaze, too.
“Who’s makin’ ya feel this good?” he seethed, shaking your whole frame with the breakneck pace of his hips.
“You, daddy.”
“Who’s fuckin’ this sweet cunt like no one ever has?”
“You, daddy.”
Joel seemed sated and somehow not fully satisfied at all. Like he was pleased to see you falling apart for him like this, but needed to hear more. Feel more.
He withdrew from you, and you nearly collapsed with the absence of his arms holding you straight.
You pressed a shaky palm to the wall and almost moaned for him to get his ass back over here, you weren’t done, when Joel returned in a second. To your relief, his muscly arms found their way around your front once more, and his clock plunged back inside you, too—only this time, you sensed you were missing something else.
Water.
It wasn’t on your back anymore.
It was fanning between your legs.
Blasting the full force of its stream toward your most sensitive parts as Joel held the shower head up between your thighs. You would’ve jumped back and screamed were it not for his hand clamping tight over your mouth before you could, his lips grazing over your ear again.
“Try it one more time.”
You released a hoarse, muffled squeal into his palm when he lifted the stainless steel to your clit and started rolling his hips. The strokes themselves were relatively gentle, but paired with the ruthless spate of the water, your eyes were nearly rolling to the back of your head at the pulse.
You couldn’t breathe, much less speak. Joel hummed almost apologetically into your hair but didn’t seem sorry at all as he lowered his hand back down to your throat and squeezed. He continued rocking his hips into yours.
“You’ve said it dozens of times before—what’s’a matter?”
Joel Miller knew what the fuck was the matter. He just liked to see you desperate, fucked-out, and teetering on the brink of going feral before he let you reach your peak.
“D-D-D—”
Damn, you sounded stupid.
“D-D-Do you wanna cum? Is that it?” Joel said, mocking your struggle to articulate words as he fucked you.
In spite of your normal no-bullshit attitude toward him, you weren’t in quite the right frame of mind to be talking back to him. You just nodded and moaned, movements constricted by the grip of his fingers on your neck.
“Use those big girl words for me, honey. I know ya can.”
Again, you parted your lips and started to speak, but the oscillation of the water, the brush of his cock, the patently deprecating lilt in Joel’s string of praises, made it nearly impossible. You ended up sputtering again,
“D-D-ah-fuuuckfuckfuck.”
“That ain’t the word I’m looking for.”
But, just as you ventured to say it once more, he cut in,
“Here. Lemme help ya find it.”
Before you could blink, Joel was pistoning his hips against your ass like he had before, only this time, he held the shower head stationary between your legs as you seized and nearly fell to the floor with the force of all the pleasure coursing through you. Your body seemed to act of its own accord, head dropping to Joel’s shoulder and stomach giving an alarmingly fitful pinch as an orgasm tore through you. You couldn’t control how it came or where it went—or how your tongue jumped up and cried,
“Daddy!”
Joel nodded, fucking you through each violent spasm with all the composure and aplomb of a seasoned pro. While your eyes cycled back in the throes of delirium, he held firm and didn’t slow his hips—or the shower head.
You probably could’ve torn a hole through a cinder block if you’d happened to have one between your teeth just then. That was how fervid and merciless the aftershocks of your climax were pulsing through you, exacerbated to the nth degree by the continuity of Joel’s movements. You managed to grab the forearm that was holding the metal nozzle and plead a wild, slightly stifled, “JOEL!”
In truth, you didn’t really want him to stop. It felt too good. You could tell that Joel sensed this, too, because in the instant after that, his lips were sponging kisses to your shoulder, cock working steadily between your walls.
“One more, sweet pea.”
“Joel—”
“And say it louder this time.”
Were you in your right mind, you probably would’ve chided him for being so reckless and stupid about it all. How the fuck could he expect you to scream out loud when your dad was lounging right outside of your room? Did he really think the drone of Cillian Murphy’s smooth, American-ized tone would mask your unbridled moans? Honestly, you couldn’t be sure—and more importantly, you couldn’t be stopped to consider for much longer. With one last trembling vibration from the shower head and a thrust from Joel, you were cumming all over again.
Squeezing his arm, sinking into his sturdy frame, clenching over his cock in what felt like a hundred convulsions, and casting caution aside, you screamed:
“DADDY!”
You might’ve blacked out for a second or two.
Even a minute, as it was, because the next intelligible thing that reached your ears was the thunder of footfalls. And the thrum of Joel’s own hammering heart as he yanked you into his chest and stilled frozen inside you.
The door swung open on its hinges so hard it hit the wall.
“What is it, sweetie?!” your dad yelped.
“I—”
“Are you hurt?”
Just fucked raw by your best friend and shaking, Pops.
You sucked in a breath when Joel nudged your head with his nose and slowly pulled the shower curtain closed to move you out of view of the camera. But it was still there.
Your dad was still there.
The shower walls seemed to be closing in on you, but somehow, you managed, “No, dad, I’m fine! Just…coulda sworn I saw another spider in here, but it was nothing.”
“Are you sure?”
Your dad sounded unconvinced, pacing closer. You could’ve screamed, but Joel was likely holding you too tight to make any such sounds possible in that moment. The two of you recoiled, still stuck chest-to-back, away from the edge of the plastic shower liner when a boot thudded just outside the crack between curtain and wall.
You swallowed. Joel squeezed. Neither of you breathed.
“If it’s another roach, I gotta call the extermin—”
“No! No, it wasn’t a roach. I’m just seein’ things, I think.”
That didn’t seem to make your father feel any better, because he didn’t retreat like he had before. A tense moment fell over the compact, fog-infested room, like the man was chewing away at some thought in his head.
Then he sighed.
“Alright.”
Blissful footsteps away from the shower. You smiled.
Unfortunately, the grin was destined to be short-lived, because in the next instant, you heard boots screech to a halt on the tile. Pivoted, then paused where they stood.
Another gut-wrenching dozen seconds passed, and for one short, chilling moment, you could’ve sworn you felt your father’s gaze sear through the curtain and see you.
But he didn’t see you. Or Joel. Or anyone.
Instead, his gaze was fixed someplace else.
Suddenly, his voice rose above all the awful noises of clamor and panic in your brain, and broke out, loudly,
“What’s my camera doin’ in here?”
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mysicklove · 4 months
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cw: sub! megumi, dom! gn! reader, overstimulation, handjobs (as always), dacryphilia, slight sadism in reader, slight masochism in megumi? teasing, "good boy" used once.
wc: 1.3k
a/n: i have been recently hating my writing style guys what do I do </3 also I did this instead of hw so tonight is gonna suck.
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“waitwaitwaitwait!” megumi mumbles into your neck for the third time this night. you feel another round of tears drip onto your collarbone, and shaky hands grip your t-shirt in a plea. he was naked — his pale skin seeming to flush a shade of red, and his spine was curved as he caved in over himself.
your thumb circles around the tip, teasing it until you watch another glob of precum bead at his slit. you crane your neck to look at him, using your free hand to tilt his chin up to press a small kiss to his lips. “doing so good,” you mumble into his mouth, and he lets out a broken sob, “staying still and taking it. we don’t need any rope today.”
his whole body feels to be on fire, and with every stroke of your hand, a whole new wave of overstimulation forces another shiver. the boy's mouth hangs open, lip glistening from a mix of saliva from your mouth and tears. “you’re so mean to me."
“poor thing,” you coo, knowing that you aren't going to do anything about his complaint. instead, you use your thumb to brush away some tears. he sniffles at you, nodding his head to hopefully coax some more praise. but your mind travels back to your movements, your wrists twisting back and forth as you focus on the red tip. “but you look so cute like this, i can’t help it, y’know that.”
his head falls back onto your shoulder, and immediately, he plants kisses on your neck, nibbling at the skin to try and distract himself. the top of his dark hair was matted with sweat, but the tips of it tickled your collarbone. you use your thumb to rub at his cheek as you continue to stroke him off, ignoring his sporadic jerks of pain. “can you cum again? just one more time, for me?”
the noise megumi lets out is meek, pathetic even, and he shakes his head into your chest. he has begun to hiccup from the intensity of his sobs, and his hand hasn't moved from gripping fiercely at your shirt. "last one," he breathes, rubbing his nose into your skin, "p-promise its the last one!"
you grab his face again with one hand and begin to pepper it with kisses, successfully wiping away more tears as he whines with shut eyes. his eyelashes are globbed together, and when he opens them again, he narrows them at you, slightly peeved and scared at your lack of response. "promise," he manages to get out before he bites his lip from you rubbing your pointer finger over his slit.
"fine, fine, I promise," you concede, and your hand stops teasing him, instead fully pumping him from base to tip. the act makes his thighs tremble, and you push them slightly more apart to give you easier access. the redness of his cock contrasts his pale skin adorably, and you can't help you're staring as he continues to leak.
"it hurts," he whimpers, mostly to himself, because all he can think about is how overwhelmed he feels. his thoughts are spinning, and even just the slightest touches on other parts of his body seem to startle him due to him focusing his entire attention on trying not to rip your hand off of his cock.
you don't pay attention to the whine, instead just pressing more kisses to his flushed cheeks, nibbling gently at the flesh while he sniffles. but, even with all the complaints and whines he was letting out, you've noticed that his hips have begun to buck back into your hand, only making the lewd noise louder. he tries to pretend that it was you who was torturing him, but his movements were of his own free will.
"you like it now?"
"no!" he says much too quickly, flashing you panicked eyes. "i-i just. 's not my fault!" at this point, you have fully stopped your movements just to watch in admiration of the boy. he was desperate in his movements, and with each thrust of his hips into the makeshift hole a coo leaves your mouth.
"aw, look, now you're getting excited. do you want to cum, megumi?" you purr, brushing his bangs back while twisting your other wrist. his eyes roll back, and his mouth remains open as he lets out quick, short breaths. now, his noises consisted more of moans rather than pained whimpers as he started to chase his high.
"n-no—yes. fuck I-" is all he manages to get out before your mouth is pressed onto his. but he pulls away only five seconds later due to his rapid heartbeat and the need for oxygen to keep up with it. you just chuckle at him and increase your speed, eyes flickering from the sight between his legs and his flushed face.
his thighs begin to squeeze shut, and his moans begin to increase in pitch, a telltale sign that he is teetering near his high. you chuckle at him when he begins to latch onto your neck, planting sloppy kisses to whatever surface he can. "are you close?"
he doesnt even attempt to speak, instead just nodding his head lazily. the act makes you roll your eyes and squeeze just a tad too hard on his dick in warning. he lets out a squeak at the feeling, and this time he does speak up. "yeah. yes. yes. c-close."
you pet his head, satisfied with his answer. "good boy. you can cum, alright?"
another set of tears pools in his eyes, and this time you cock your head to the side. "why are you crying 'gumi? I didn't hurt you that bad, did I?"
"no," he sniffles, "sorry d-dont stop. feels good, don't know why I'm crying. just don't stop!"
"relax. relax. I'm not," you reassure, kissing his face again. "you're lucky you are so cute, with all your demands."
he ignores you like he usually does when you tease him, but you are unsure if it is because he is being his usual self or because he is lost in pleasure.
seconds later, his hands grab at your shoulder, and he goes silent for a breath. then, just as the first rope shoots out, he cries, "cuming! of fuck. fuck!"
your lover's entire body quivers, and his mouth latches into your skin as the first wave washes over him. his eyes roll back and his mouth falls open with a silent scream. more tears come tumbling down his face, and you watch as the most pathetic amount of cum tonight comes dribbling out. it slides down his flushed cock and mixes with the movements of your hands.
eventually, when he comes down from his high and feels the stinging lick of overstimulation once again, he immediately forces your hand off, pinning the white-stained limb to the ground with frantic eyes. then he turns to you, even with his body jerking every couple of seconds from the aftershock, and glares at you — it doesn't hold much effect, considering his cheeks were flushed red and eyelashes were wet with tears, but it was cute nonetheless. "no. more."
you grin at the demand and use your clean hand to ruffle his hair. "your wish is my command, princess."
he narrows his eyes at the nickname, and the man tears himself from your arms. "I am going to shower," he mumbles before using all of his strength to stand up. he takes a step forward, and immediately he comes tumbling down.
megumi pretends he doesn't see the way his legs are trembling, but you see the way his ear twinged red in humiliation. you, of course, use it to your advantage. "need a little help there, Bambi?"
"you're not allowed to touch me for a week," he grumbles but grabs onto your arm and lets himself be left to the bathroom. it was an empty threat, as they usually are.
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