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wandaromanoffroses · 2 months

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"Isn't she gorgeous?"

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Requested

Warnings: 18+ content, breast sucking, fingering (R receiving), orgasm denial, strap-on use (R receiving), cock-sucking, vaginal sex, degrading, praising, profanity

Summary: Your husband, Steve Rogers, has been romantically and sexually starving you ever since he became an Avenger. After borrowing money from notorious crime leader, Natasha Romanoff, she breaks into your house to get what she's owed. However, when she finds you, his gorgeous wife innocently asleep next to him, you catch her interest and her plans change instantly.

Pairings: top dom!Natasha Romanoff x bottom sub!reader, Steve Rogers x Reader (nothing romantic or sexual happens)

Trigger Warnings: blood, gun wound, reference to implied SA (blink and you'll miss it).

“Y/n?” you nearly sent the plate in your hand flying to the floor, dropping it into the washing bowl before spinning around to see your husband in the doorway. You shook your head, sure that your eyes were deceiving you. He was never here even when he promised, never mind three weeks early.

“Steve,” you said, drying your hands and rushing over to him but before you could pull him into a hug, he caught a hold of your shoulders to stop you. His touch sent a stab of pain into your chest and you were snapped back to reality, falling away from the lingers of a past moment you had momentarily forgotten wasn’t your present. You straightened your figure and took a step back, looking up at the man that had once been the light of your life, a guide in the darkness, someone special to share all the good with but now, he could’ve been a stranger.

You had been married for three years, together for five and the first few years would be the most treasured moments of your life. But ever since he had become an Avenger, it had consumed his sole purpose.

Steve was always out fighting, carving his mark, making the world proud of his heroism while you stayed at home doing chores and completing mindless activities to pass the time. There was once a time where you could’ve sworn you saw Universes in his eyes. Now, his skin had been drained of colour and his eyes were rimmed with red as if he were a ghost that was forever cursed to haunt his loved ones. “What are you doing here?” you quizzed.

“I’m sorry," he said, bowing his head, “I’ve got into a bit of trouble, I wanted to make sure you were safe.” You frowned.

“What trouble?” you questioned, “is there a villain after you? Can’t the Avengers help you?” You didn’t even bother hiding the bitterness in my voice. They were clearly everything he ever needed, what use were you to him? He sighed.

“Not exactly,” he said, “we should probably sit down.” You followed him into the dining room with caution in your steps, not taking your eyes off him. The walls were a fading, off-white, elaborate flowers twisted between leaves and detailed patterns, wooden panelling running along across the bottom. The light fixture in the centre was brass with three upturned light bulbs, the dining tables and chairs a polished rosewood. Steve had wanted the room like this because it reminded him of his Grandmother. It was awkward to clean and there was always a build of dust in here. You took a seat opposite him.

“What’s going on?” you said. He scratched the back of his neck.

“I know what you’re going to think but… alright I’ll just tell you. I took out a loan from someone a bit dodgy and I haven’t quite paid them back.” You raised an eyebrow.

“What’s ‘haven’t quite’ supposed to mean?” you said, raising your voice.

“I haven’t paid them back, okay?” he exclaimed, “look, all I wanted to do was buy you a new house, I wanted to make you happy since you hate this one so much. I don’t see anything wrong with wanting to spoil my girl.” Generosity – the easiest attainable remedy for guilt.

“Well, I see something wrong with borrowing money you can’t pay back, especially from somebody that can put you and other people in danger,” you said, pushing yourself onto your feet, “what were you thinking Steve?” He slammed his fists onto the table and you jumped, your heart thumping against your ribcage.

“Listen, I thought I would have the money by now. It’s not my fault I can’t see into the future, you know I wouldn’t have even thought about it if I knew.” You closed your eyes, exhaling a long breath, trying to keep your composure. There were a hundred things you wanted to say to him right now but it wasn’t worth it. You either lived in peace or chaos; either way, nothing changed.

“I thought I knew a lot of things about you but they turned out to all be wrong,” you said, “so I don’t know anymore. Nothing you do surprises me.” You stormed back into the kitchen, not wanting him to waste anymore of your time. You had dishes to do and by now, the water would’ve gone cold.

“Y/n, come on. You haven’t seen me in three months and this is how you’re going to treat me?”

“I have dishes to do,” you said, picking up the plate you had dropped before, polishing it until it shone in the dim light peeking through the curtains, “someone has to keep the house clean.” And clearly, it wasn’t going to him. You felt a firm hand on my shoulder and all the muscles in your body tensed.

“I know you’re mad at me.” You scoffed. Mad wasn’t the right word – it was an array of messy emotions tangled together that had been fraying for years. There was more than just anger here, that was just an old friend that had withered and grown back into something much more cruel now. “Just please… let me make it up to you. I could die on a mission one day you know, you never know when one of these moments could be our last.” He had tried guilt tripping you before – it was a simple yet effective way of shifting blame onto the other person to ease your conscience. These games were getting so predictable.

“And I’d be the last one to know,” you said, “maybe if I was lucky, I’d see it on the news.” You placed the last plate on the drying rack, emptying the washing-up bowl before walking away to leave him standing in the kitchen, alone.

..........................................................................

You had avoided Steve as if he were the plague for the rest of the evening, only tolerating him in the same room as you when you went to give him his dinner. If you were nothing but his little housewife, you may as well play the part and poke it in his face. While you were getting ready for bed, you had paused by his chest of drawers, remembering the divorce papers you had hidden beneath the shirts he had outgrown or didn’t like anymore. Most of them had been bought by you and you could recall a memory with your husband in every single one. Maybe another day.

You couldn’t sleep but you kept your eyes tight shut when you heard him enter and move around the bedroom. Why didn’t you just sleep in the living room?, you thought as he slipped under the covers beside you. You figured he’d probably leave before you were awake so in his mind, you wouldn't even know. Dickhead. You didn’t know how much time had passed but you must’ve fallen asleep because the next thing you see is blinding white.

“Steve, turn the lights off…” You let out a scream when a gunshot sounded through the room, colliding with your husband’s cry of pain. Your eyes flew open and immediately fell on the figure standing at the end of your bed, her ravishing, blood-soaked hair curled onto her shoulder, her eyes glittering with shattered pieces of jade. Your heart seemed to freeze in your chest. Natasha Romanoff – the most notorious leader of crime in the world. And she was here, in your bedroom.

You turned to Steve and let out a strangled sob, the sight of scarlet soaking into the bed sheets making you dizzy. You heard the click of heels behind you and Natasha took a fistful of your nightgown before you could even process what was happening, pulling you away from him as if you were a mere feather. You screamed again and if it wasn’t for her strong grip on you, you would’ve collapsed to the ground.

She waited until you were steady enough to stand on your own two feet, gripping your hips and pulling you flush against her body. She was wearing a dress that emphasised all her curves and showcased most of her skin, your body flooding with dread. This woman was able to shoot Captain America without any protective clothing like it was nothing. There was no way out of this situation. We were doomed. I felt something hard in her crotch area, confused as to why she was carrying such a bulky item in her pockets.

“Leave her alone,” Steve whispered, his voice faint and overshadowed by anguish.

“Get on the floor and don’t say another word unless I ask you a question or she’ll have to watch you die,” she snapped, “neither of us want that to happen, do we?” With resentment, he hobbled away from the bed, stumbling over to the wall and sliding himself down it, his hand clutched to the gun wound in his stomach. “Good.” She ran a finger down your cheek before beginning to trace your features, her head tilted to the side. “You didn’t tell anyone you had a wife, Rogers. Isn’t she gorgeous?” You shivered in her hold, her voice low and seductive. “What’s your name, pretty?”

“Y-Y/n,” you trembled, wishing you could strangle the butterflies in your stomach that her touch had provoked. This was insanity – she had just shot your husband and she was threatening to murder him yet she was making you nervous, in a romantic way. God, if only Natasha wasn’t so beautiful, this would be a whole lot easier.

“Y/n Rogers?” she said, giving you a fake pout, “that doesn’t sound very nice, does it? Y/n Romanoff has a much nicer ring to it.” A crease formed between your eyebrows. What the hell was she implying? “Rogers, I’m willing to strike up a deal with you. But first, I’m going to fuck your wife until the only name she’ll remember is mine.” His eyes widened in horror and you let out a cry.

“Natasha, that’s assault. You can’t,” Steve said. She smirked.

“Oh there won’t be any need for that,” she said, “it won’t take much for her to beg me for more.” She pushed you down onto the bed and straddled your lap, a pool of wetness already forming between your legs. This was so fucked up. “Give me consent and I’ll make you feel so good baby, better than you’ve ever felt. All you have to do is say the word.”

You considered all your options but it didn’t take you long to decide since you only had two. You either let Natasha fuck you or you watched Steve die. You could treat it like a one night stand, you thought. You had never experienced one yourself but you’d read it in books so surely you would be able to do it.

Though you knew deep down, part of you wanted this. You were desperately touch starved and the thought of Natasha fucking you made you groan, heat rushing to your cheeks as the sound escape your mouth. You nodded and she gripped your jaw.

“Words bitch.”

“Yes,” you said, looking away from her in shame but she forced you to look back at her.

“Good girl,” Natasha said, lowering herself onto you and colliding her lips with yours, setting all your nerves alight. Her lips felt like velvet against your own, melting against you and setting a slow pace, letting you get used to the sensation. You couldn’t remember the last time Steve had kissed you, never mind like this.

When your hand moved to her chest, she knew she’d won and she began kissing you with more passion, her teeth sinking into your bottom lip. You gasped and she took the opportunity to slip her tongue between the gap in your teeth. You didn’t even bother fighting against her, wanting Natasha to take full control and use you however she pleased.

She separated your lips and began kissing your neck, her teeth ruthless against your skin as she began to mark you, leaving a trail of garnet blotches that would be seen by everyone. “Tell him how much you like this.” As much as you wished it wasn’t true, you were very much enjoying this. It was a terrible thing to admit to your husband but you had to remind yourself that his life was at stake here.

“I love it, I love being marked by you,” you said, “please don’t stop.” She pulled away when she reached your chest, reaching down and taking hold of your nightgown.

“Can I take this off angel?”

“Please,” you said, ignoring that Steve was in the same room as you. You wanted this, you needed this, you hadn’t had sex in so long. Too long. She lifted herself off your waist for a few moments so she could discard you of your nightgown before continuing her path down your chest, stopping right before she reached your breasts.

“So beautiful,” Natasha said before taking one of your nipples between her fingers and rolling it, earning her your loudest groan yet. She began to fondle the other roughly and the pain was soon replaced with pleasure that went straight in between your legs. You were a moaning mess beneath her, your forehead glistening with sweat and your breaths loud and sharp. “Listen to that, Rogers. Does she make these sweet, sweet noises for you? Do you Y/n? Tell me.”

“No,” I said, “only for you.” She tutted.

“Oh sweetheart, he doesn’t deserve you,” she said, “it’s okay, I’m going to take care of you now.” She ran her hands down your stomach and attached her mouth to your hardened nipple, your mind unable to decide what to concentrate on. She slipped her fingers beneath your panties and began snapping it against your skin, causing you to start bucking your hips into her.

“I need you,” you said. You expected her to make you wait but her expression softened as she began sliding your panties down your legs, throwing them in Steve’s direction. “Look how she ruined them for me. If you weren’t so neglectful, this could’ve been you, Rogers. Don’t you ever forget that.” You gasped as the palm of her hand pressed against your cunt, brushing against your swollen clint. “So wet.”

“Natasha, please…”

“Beg,” she said, running her fingers through your folds and collecting your arousal, “let him hear you.”

“Please Natasha,” you said, “I need you to fuck me so bad. I need you inside of me, please make me cum.” Your words made her groan and you whimpered as you felt her push two fingers inside of you, giving you only a few seconds to adjust before she began thrusting in and out of you at a quickened pace. You felt a burning sting, grabbing her wrist to try and slow her down. “Nat, it’s too much, it hurts.”

“What do you mean sweetie? Does he have a small cock?” There was a cruel glint in her eye when the realisation dawned on her. “He hasn’t fucked you in a longtime has he? How long has it been?” You were struggling to form coherent sentences at this point.

“Six months,” you admitted. He visited so little and he was always exhausted when he did, hardly even giving you any affection, never mind fulfilling your physical needs. You had shamefully been trying to fuck yourself for over a year now but you were either too embarrassed to keep at it for long or you were eventually forced to give up, too inexperienced to make yourself cum. You had never used more than one finger so you weren’t used to the stretch at all.

“You’re telling me your husband had access to this cunt anytime he wanted but he chose not to fuck you for half a year?” What a waste of such a perfect pussy,” she said, “shh, it’s okay, it’ll feel so good in a minute.” As if to prove her point, porn-worthy moans began to spill from your mouth as you were drowned in overwhelming bliss. She knew she had found that one spot inside of you when your noises became more intense and more wetness gushed from your entrance, the squelches of your arousal echoing around the room. You took fistfuls of the duvet beneath you in your hands, your walls began to clench around her fingers. But just before you reached your high, Natasha slipped her fingers out of you.

“No,” you cried, “I was so close.” She placed a kiss on your forehead.

“Not just yet,” she said, “I want you to cum on my cock.” You blinked up at her in confusion, not understanding what she meant. Was she perhaps intersex? “Get on your knees.” You scrambled to obey her command, your thighs glistening with white and she smirked. “Such an obedient thing. Open your mouth and stick out your tongue.” You did so without hesitation and she lifted up her dress and threw it on the floor, leaving her in a lacey bra and boxers. Your eyes fell onto her breasts that were full and sat perfectly, wondering how they’d feel in your hands and in your mouth. You were too distracted to pay attention to Natasha pulling down her boxers until a large, red strapon sprung into your face.

You were sheltered and didn’t have many friends so your knowledge on how two women had sex was low. You had accidentally come across some brief information about strapons while scrolling through social media, closing the app immediately and uninstalling it. You had never told anyone you liked women so any mentions of the topic made you panic and run in the opposite direction. Natasha noticed your hesitation.

“It’s just like sucking a cock,” she said, “you’ve done that, right?” You shook your head. Steve was a very traditional man so you’d never done anything outside of the very basics. You had always wanted to explore more interesting options but you were too ashamed to ask or discuss any of your preferences with him. “God, so vanilla. Once I show you what you’ve been missing you’ll never want to go back. Do you want to try симпатичный (pretty)?” Her Russian Nickname for you sent a lustful thrum through your body despite the words being foreign and unknown to you. You knew there was only one correct answer to her question but you liked being able to show Natasha how much you desired to follow her orders.

“I’d love to try,” you said, “anything to please you.”

“Good girl,” she husked, nudging your mouth with the strap-on. Her other hand dug into your shoulder as she pushed it inside of your gaping mouth, your eyes rolling to the back of your head.

Natasha kept going even when you started choking, tears slipping from your eyes and smearing your makeup. The sight of you, a perfect housewife she had ruined and made a mess of, only made her thrust the toy into your mouth faster, desperately turned on. When she was satisfied that you’d wet it enough, she pulled out, showing enough mercy to let you catch your breath. “You’re already such a good cock-sucker.” She ran her thumb over your plump lips. “Aren’t you glad I put these lips to good use, hmm?”

“Yes,” you gasped, “thank you Natasha.” She placed a kiss on your forehead.

“So polite. Get on all fours and look at your husband.” You hesitated a little this time, suddenly remembering Steve’s presence. You turned around and followed her commands, your gaze meeting with his. Steve’s pupils were drowned in pain and clouded his emotions so you couldn’t identify them, blood still gushing from his gun wound.

“Natasha, I think he’s going to die,” I said, “his stomach…” She looked over and saw that he was on the verge of passing out, his blood loss now critical.

“I fear you’re right,” she said, “I thought we’d have more time with him, shame. Don’t worry милый (darling), he’ll be alright soon.” You heard footsteps thundering up the stairs before the door was flung open and several men dressed head to toe in black burst into the bedroom. You wondered how she had summoned them so quickly but you were too horny to dwell on the thought for long.

You tried to cover your exposed body, feeling vulnerable all of a sudden but Natasha slapped your hands away. “They won’t look my angel, they wouldn’t even dare. Don’t let them distract you.” You felt something prodding your entrance and you whimpered.

“Please,” you breathed as she circled your entrance with the toy, collecting your arousal.

“You’re somehow even wetter,” she cooed, “did you really love your face being fucked that much?” Before you could answer she began to push the tip inside, your soaked walls showing no resistance. She didn’t give you anytime to get used to the stretch, pulling out before slamming back into you seconds later. The pain only lasted a few moments before it dissolved into pure pleasure as Natasha pounded into you like a wild animal. You arched your bark, the dirtiest sounds you had ever produced spilling from your mouth and echoing through the room. You somehow managed to lift an arm and point it towards Steve’s shirt drawer.

“There’s divorce paper,” you strung together between gasps, “in that drawer. I already signed them.” The men followed your finger and moved towards them, aimlessly throwing Steve’s shirts onto the floor. You saw a pang of hurt in Steve’s expression but you didn’t care. He should’ve seen this coming and even if he didn’t, it was his fault anyway.

As the divorce papers and Steve were dragged away, you moved your hips in rhythm with Natasha’s to try and get the strap-on deeper into you, every brush against your walls sending electricity through your body. She gripped your hips, encouraging your movements, grunting each time you slammed back against her. Your groans changed when she found your g-spot again and after that, she made sure to keep hitting it, a knot beginning to tighten in your stomach for the second time that night.

“I need to cum,” you said, “can I this time, please?”

“Such a slut,” she said, “soak my dick baby. Go on.” You screamed her name as you released all over her cock, stars blinding your eyes as your body shook with bliss, each new wave stronger than the last. After the longest orgasm of your life, you finally finished cumming, liquid staining your thighs. But Natasha didn’t stop, moving her hands up to your ass and massaging your cheeks.

“Natasha, I’ve already cummed,” you said, expecting her to finally pull out but instead, she tutted.

“We’re not finished yet,” she said, “If I wanted to, I could have you cumming all over this cock all night. We’re done when I say we are. You are all mine after all, gorgeous.” After the initial discomfort faded away, you were soaring back up to cloud nine, ready to do whatever Natasha wanted.

“Of course,” you said, “I’m all yours now.”

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yuutx · 1 month

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ೀ ׅ ۫ . 𝐈 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔. . 𝐈 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐘 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔. . (𝒮𝒞𝒜𝑅𝒜𝑀𝒪𝒰𝒞𝐻𝐸)

coworker! scaramouche x f!reader ﾉ sfw content. ﾉ sfw + confession ﾉ modern au ﾉ coworker au ﾉ friends -> lovers ﾉ pure fluffy content ﾉ not proofread ! ꒰ᐢ˵´ ˆ `˵ᐢ꒱

i havent written something fluffy in soo longg . . i missed writing pure, soft fics . . art credits go to @/yakumon_ on tiktok ! ! ♡ + ↻ are rlly appreciated ! !

The night was still young, the hour only barely creeping into the early hours of the morning, and yet Scaramouche found himself already exhausted. He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, the beginnings of a headache starting to throb at his temples. The day had been long, his work seemingly endless, and his energy was dissipating. He had a mountain of paperwork waiting for him, a stack of forms and contracts and proposals sitting on his desk, untouched, the documents left abandoned for weeks. The pile was nearly toppling over, the edges curling up, and he frowned, a look of distaste flickering across his features. His gaze shifted towards the window, the view overlooking the cityscape. The lights from the buildings stretched up into the sky, the city aglow, the sight captivating. His frown softened, the irritation draining from his expression, the anger melting away. His gaze swept across the horizon, taking in the sight. There was a sense of awe, a sense of wonder, a sense of pride, the view reminding him just how far he had come, how far he had risen. He was on top of the world, the world at his fingertips, and he had done it all himself. His accomplishments had been hard won, the climb to the top a steep one, the path to success a difficult one. But his efforts had paid off, and he was rewarded with a lavish lifestyle, a comfortable existence. Yet, there was one thing missing. Someone special.

He didn't know when it had started, didn't know exactly when his feelings had changed. At some point, she had gone from a nuisance, an annoyance, a thorn in his side, to something.. more. Her presence was no longer an unwelcome one, the sound of her voice no longer grating, the sight of her no longer irritating. If anything, her company was welcome, her voice a soothing one, her smile brightening his mood. It was a gradual shift, his perception of her changing. One day, he found himself looking forward to seeing her, and the next, he realized that he couldn't picture his life without her. She had become a staple in his life, a fixture in his routine, a constant, someone he could always depend on. It was an odd feeling, an unfamiliar one, but he found that he didn't mind it. He liked her, he really did. It had been a long time since he had cared about someone, a long time since he had trusted anyone, a long time since he had let anyone close. But he had fallen for her, became entangled in her, and now, he found himself in a dilemma. He knew what he wanted, he knew how he felt, and yet, he couldn't bring himself to admit it. It was frustrating, the feelings swirling around inside him, the emotions clouding his judgment, and the confusion was driving him crazy.

"Why is it so fucking complicated?" he muttered, the words spilling out.

He let out a huff, shaking his head, trying to clear his mind. He turned away from the window, the view no longer a comfort. He couldn't focus, couldn't concentrate, his thoughts always seemed to drift towards her. She was all he could think about, and he scowled, the feeling of helplessness irritating him.

"Fuck it.. I need a drink.." He muttered, running a hand through his hair.

He stalked towards the kitchen, his strides quick and purposeful, his footsteps echoing through the penthouse. He entered the room, his gaze sweeping over the contents. There was an array of alcohol, the cabinets and shelves well stocked. His eyes fell upon the wine rack, the bottles arranged by color and vintage, and he plucked a bottle from the rack. It was a red, the dark liquid swirling around the inside of the glass. He uncorked the bottle, pouring himself a generous amount, before setting the glass down onto the counter. He raised the glass to his lips, the aroma hitting him first. It was a deep, earthy smell, the scent rich and fragrant. The taste was full bodied, the flavor heavy, the liquid rolling over his tongue. It was smooth, the alcohol burning pleasantly as it slid down his throat, the sensation warm and comforting. He took another sip, savoring the taste, letting the flavor linger on his tongue. He closed his eyes, allowing the wine to soothe his nerves, the tension slowly leaving his shoulders. He leaned against the counter, his mind wandering.

"Y/N.." he murmured, her name rolling off his tongue. "Mm.. I wonder what she's doing right now.."

A faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips, a soft look appearing in his eyes.

"I wish she was here.. I wish.." He trailed off, catching himself. "What the fuck am I doing?.." he muttered, shaking his head. "Get a hold of yourself.."

He took another sip, his fingers tracing the rim of the glass.

"..But I want her.." he admitted, the words leaving his mouth before he could stop himself.

The realization hit him like a punch to the gut, his breath hitching, his chest tightening.

"I.. I want her..?.."

He had never said it aloud, never voiced his thoughts, his feelings, but the words were out there now, hanging in the air, and they rang true. He wanted her, more than anything. He wanted her so badly, the urge almost overwhelming, and the need for her burned in his chest, the ache making him dizzy. He couldn't deny it any longer, couldn't fight it, couldn't resist. He was falling, falling fast, and he knew there was no turning back. Not now. His feelings were written all over his face, his emotions clear, and he couldn't hide it anymore. He had to tell her, had to confess, and the thought of rejection terrified him. But the thought of never knowing what could've been was even more terrifying, and he knew he had to do something. He had to risk it all. For her.

With a sigh, he drained the glass, his fingers tightening around the stem, the crystal creaking under the pressure. He placed the glass down, the sound echoing through the room, before striding towards the door. His feet carried him through the hallway, his steps hurried, his mind racing. His heart was pounding, his pulse quickening, his palms growing clammy. His nerves were getting the better of him, his anxiety spiking, the prospect of facing her nerve-wracking. He stopped in front of the door, the wood smooth under his fingertips, the handle cold. He could feel his stomach twisting into knots, the butterflies fluttering in his chest, and his breath caught in his throat. He closed his eyes, steeling himself, before opening the door and leaving the penthouse.

After some time, he reached her apartment, the number engraved on the brass plate, and he hesitated, his hand hovering over the bell. The seconds ticked by, the seconds feeling like hours, the moments stretching into an eternity, and his apprehension grew, his fear building. But, his need for her was stronger, his desire for her outweighing his doubt, and he took a deep breath, ringing the doorbell. There was a moment of silence, a moment of stillness, and then, the door swung open.

You stood in the doorway, your eyes wide, a look of surprise on your face. Your hair was slightly disheveled, your cheeks flushed, your clothes rumpled. You must've been sleeping, he thought. You stared at him, your mouth opening and closing, before letting out a nervous laugh. He cleared his throat, the awkwardness of the situation making him fidget, before speaking.

"Um, hey.." he started, his voice low, his tone hesitant. "Listen, I uh.. I needed to see you."

You cocked your head, your brow furrowing, confusion washing over your features. He continued, the words tumbling out. "I know it's late, and I know it's probably weird, but I had to tell you.." he paused, swallowing, before continuing. ".. I-I like you. Like, really like you. And.. I just needed to get that off my chest."

His words hung in the air, the silence thick, the tension palpable. Your expression was unreadable, the emotions flickering across your face indecipherable. You were frozen, rooted to the spot, your body stiff, the shock making your limbs heavy. He looked down, his gaze dropping, before muttering, "Shit, I shouldn't have said that.." His face burned, the humiliation setting in, and he turned away, starting to walk off, his hands clenched into fists. But, before he could go, you grabbed his wrist, stopping him. He glanced back, your grip firm, your expression serious.

"Stay." You whispered, your voice soft. He looked at you, his gaze meeting yours, his eyes searching your face. "Stay.." You repeated, the words barely a whisper, and he nodded, his hand sliding into yours.

"Okay." He replied, his tone matching yours.

With that, you led him into the apartment, the door closing behind you. The room was dim, the lights off, the curtains drawn. You made your way through the living room, his hand still in yours, the floorboards creaking underfoot. You stopped in front of the sofa, your fingers intertwining with his, and you sat down, the cushions sinking beneath your weight. The silence was heavy, the quietness suffocating, the tension rising. You stared at him, your gaze intent, and he swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing.

"Scara..?" you murmured, breaking the silence. "Tell me.."

He looked at you, his brow furrowed, his expression thoughtful.

"What do you mean?" He asked, his tone confused.

"Tell me.." you repeated, your eyes meeting his. ".. tell me how you feel."

He let out a breath, the sound shaky, his nerves getting the better of him. "I.. I don't know.." he said, his voice barely a whisper. "I don't know how to put it into words."

"Then, show me.." you breathed, leaning in, your face mere inches from his.

He froze, his body stiffening, his mind racing. His thoughts were jumbled, the feelings overwhelming, and he swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry.

"I.." he started, his words faltering. "Oh, god.." Scaramouche muttered, the frustration building. "I can't, I can't." He shook his head, the movement jerky, his hands balling into fists. "I'm sorry, I'm so fucking sorry.. I've been trying to hold back for weeks, months, and now.." he trailed off, his gaze falling to the floor, the shame written all over his face. "..And now, I'm ruining it, aren't I? I'm ruining our friendship, I'm fucking it all up, just like I always do.." he muttered, his words laced with self-loathing.

You stared at him, his outburst surprising you, the sudden change in his demeanor jarring. You reached out, your palm cupping his cheek, his skin warm beneath your touch. You could feel him trembling, his muscles tense, his body rigid. He looked up, his eyes meeting yours, the guilt in his expression making your heart ache.

"Hey.." you murmured, your voice soft. "Hey, it's okay.." You brushed your thumb along his cheekbone, the contact soothing. "You're not ruining anything."

He took a shaky breath, his shoulders slumping, the tension easing. "Y/N.." he said, his tone pained. "I can't keep pretending, I can't keep lying to myself. I-I want you, more than anything." His hand covered yours, his grip firm, his fingers lacing with yours. "I know this is probably a lot, and I know it's selfish of me, but.." he paused, swallowing, before continuing. ".. but, I want you. And, I think you feel the same." He searched your face, his gaze searching yours. ".. Tell me, tell me if I'm wrong." He implored, his voice laced with desperation. "Please."

Your breath caught in your throat, the sincerity in his voice taking you by surprise. You stared at him. You had never seen him like this, his emotions laid bare, his vulnerability on full display. He was raw, vulnerable, his armor stripped away. And, it was beautiful. You took a deep breath, the air filling your lungs, before exhaling, the sound shaky. Your heart was hammering in your chest. The feelings were mutual, the attraction obvious, the chemistry electric. But, the implications were daunting. You were friends, coworkers, and a relationship between you was risky, the repercussions potentially devastating. But, you knew you had to take the chance. The opportunity was too good, the timing too perfect, the feeling too right. So, with a nod, you leaned in, your lips crashing against his. The kiss was rough, the contact desperate, the need for each other all-consuming. His arms wrapped around you, his hands sliding up your back, pulling you closer. The kiss deepened, the passion igniting, the fire burning. The moment was charged, the feelings intense, the emotions overpowering. It was everything, and more. It was perfect. After what seemed like an eternity, the kiss broke, the two of you breathless, your foreheads touching.

A tear fell from his eye. He was crying. You kissed his tears, and he let out a shaky breath, the sound filled with emotion. "You.." he started, his voice cracking. "You feel the same.." he murmured, his eyes widening, the realization setting in. "I-I don't know what to say.." You chuckled, wiping the tears from his eyes, before placing a soft kiss on his lips. "You don't have to say anything.." you whispered, your smile warm. He smiled back, the sight making your heart skip a beat, and he pulled you into a hug, his arms encircling you. You rested your head on his shoulder, the moment tender, the closeness comforting. It felt right, the closeness, the intimacy, and you sighed, the sound content. It was the beginning of something new, something wonderful, and you knew you were in for a wild ride. But, you were ready. You had been ready. After all, what's life without a little bit of risk?

With that, you closed your eyes, a smile on your lips, the love in your heart growing stronger. And, as the night drew to a close, and the first rays of sunlight crept over the horizon, you drifted off, the man of your dreams by your side. And, when you awoke, the memories of the previous night would remain, the moments engraved in your heart, the feelings lingering. It was the start of something special, the beginning of a new chapter, and you were ready.

You were ready for it all.

691 notes · View notes

marvellous1917 · 19 days

Text

Icarus Falling Far From.

(Part 4)

Pairing: mob!bucky x tattoo artist!female!reader

Summary: Bucky comes face to face with the ones fucking his shit up, he’s all stressed and the reader just wants to make out.

Warnings: mentions of crime (guns,drugs,murder [he’s a monster babes]), swearing, guns, reader being threatened with a gun (oops), threat of violence, talking about feelings (ew), think that’s it-if I’m missing any let me know.

Word count: 3.9k ish

A/n: hey guys, hope you enjoy this shit lmao, I truly have absolutely no idea where I’m going with this.

(This is not beta’d we die like men.)

Part 3 : Icarus Falling Far

Masterlist

————

Bucky’s thoughts in italics

Readers thoughts in bold

————

Fuck.

Fuucckk.

“It’s you.” Bucky states, his voice steady, hiding the confusion running through his head.

“It’s us,” Frank responds, “gotta be honest, we’ve had a lot of fun fucking up your shit.”

Frank stood with a smug smirk on his face, while the man with the buzz cut, and with scars covering his face, the light outside casting a grim portrait, stands with a big grin - both completely unaffected by the gun being pointed at them.

“Does she know?” Bucky asks, years of being screwed by people he trusted rearing back and kicking his trust issues into his gear.

Please say no, please tell me she’s not a part of this.

No. Not her.

“Y/n? Bet it break your cold heart if we said yes, huh?” Billy quips, with that stupid grin now a permanent fixture on his face. “That sweet pretty girl you though actually liked you, was actually just getting us this in, see we have proposition for- ”

“DOES SHE KNOW?” Bucky lets his voice rise, tired of the games the other men were playing.

“No, and we are gonna keep it that way you hear me, don’t drag that kind girl into this cruel world.” Curtis states, stepping forward as if to cut Billy off from responding.

Shit, I can’t let you look down and see me waving a gun in your friends faces.

“She doesn’t need to know. She’s not made for this world, not like us. So how about you put the gun away before she starts looking out that window.” Frank says, eyes flicking to your window to make sure you’re not witnessing this tense conversation.

Bucky slowly lowers the gun into his pocket, but keeps his hand tight on the weapon, just as a precaution.

Please be true, to whatever bastard higher power up there, please be true.

“Not like us?” Bucky says, parroting the other man’s words, “in what world are we the same?”

“Well I mean you and Curtis probably share the most similar physicality,” Billy states, chuckling a little at his own joke.

Bucky’s eyes flit to the quiet man on the left, recalling his earlier thoughts.

“What Bill means to say is that I know what’s it’s like to loose a limb in combat-”

“I didn’t loose my arm in combat.” His voice was deep and unwavering, even while the horrid memories came to the front of his mind, “you have no idea what I went through.”

“We know some. Rumors fly in the military.” Franks states, “we were all Marines together, and after Curtis lost his leg, I became a Navy Seal and Bill here became a Scout Sniper for the Marine Corps Reconnaissance. We’ve had our fair share of being screwed over by those in authority.”

“Am I supposed to give a shit? All that crap is behind me, what I care about is my business now, the same business that you three have been fucking up for the past week. So what the fuck do you want and what the fuck does Y/n have to do with it?” Bucky growls out, his patience slipping.

“We mean no harm, not to you, and especially not to Y/n-”

“I’m supposed to believe that, you used her to get to me right? If you cared about her you wouldn’t have done that-” Bucky begins before he gets cut off.

“Don’t you dare say that we don’t care about her!” Billy almost shouts stepping forward before stopping when Bucky brings the gun out of his pocket and lets it rest by his side.

“Y/n is one of the few things in this world we care about, she’s family okay, and we would never hurt her-” Curtis says

“Really, then how would you say she’s gonna feel if I go back to her apartment and tell her all about this, huh?” Bucky calls back

“You’re not gonna do that though, are ya? Because you know if you did, it’d break her heart, and you don’t wanna do that do ya Buck? Not when ya like her so much?” The words come from Billy, the annoying grin back in his face.

“What make you think I care that much?” Bucky says, even though his thoughts state the opposite.

I do. I do care.

“If you didn’t you would have shot us already.” Frank responds with a very valid point.

That makes Bucky clench his jaw and tense his gun wielding hand.

“All we want is a business meeting okay, talk about a potential partnership.” Frank stars crossing his arms, staring unklinking at Bucky.

“A partnership? It’s gonna take more than you fucking up a few things for me to even think about considering that. And what the hell would I get out of a partnership with you three?” Brucky responds, seriously considering just shooting the three men dead on the street.

“Well that’s something we can talk about later, but just so you know we have our hands in some business ourselves and more than enough bodies to keep our shit going, but we’d all be a hell of a lot richer if we worked together” Curtis states, shifting his weight onto his good leg.

“Plus just think about how happy our girl will be if we all got on.” Billy chimes in with a quick wink.

Our girl. OUR girl? God I wanna shoot these assholes.

Bucky keeps his calm facade up, unwilling to show the man that his words affected him.

“Fine. Be at the Comandos bar at 8 pm tomorrow, just you three, no weapons.” Bucky responds, wanting this conversation to be over.

The three men share quick look’s between themselves, and then Frank steps forward with his hand out towards Bucky and says “We’ll be there.”

Bucky doesn’t even look at them before turning quickly and walking back into the building, pulling out his phone to call Steve.

Frank chuckles, puts his hand down and turns to get in the car.

“Think he’ll tell her?” Curtis asks.

“Nah. He likes her too much.” Billy replies, while opening the door and getting in.

—————

What the hell is taking him so long? God I hope the boys didn’t catch him and give the whole ‘if you hurt her we’ll kill you’ talk. The boys are scary but Bucky’s a damn mobster.

The heavy knock on the door stops your pacing, and cause you to run to the door and pull it open to see the aforementioned mobster.

He doesn’t even say anything before barging in, kicking the door closed behind him while his hands go straight to the sides of your face, pulling your lips to his. His grip is gentle, but his mouth is bruising, his teeth nipping your bottom lip.

You pull back to catch your breath, leaning your forehead on his and catching your breath.

“Not even a hello? You missed me that much?” You flirt quietly, whispering into his mouth, hand clutching his waist through his coat.

“More than you know darlin’ I needed to see you…and touch you,” Bucky responds, silently thinking I needed to make sure you were okay.

Oh please do.

“All I’m hearing is the big bad mobster saying he needs me” you tease, praying he didn’t take offence, yeah he’s sweet and lovely but I’ve only gotten a tiny glimpse at the other side of him.

“Is that how you see me?” He leans back to his full height, staring down into your eyes, dropping his hands to his sides.

Shit.

Bucky grips your wrists and takes your hands off his body, moving them into his metal hand, the surface cold on your skin. You scramble to respond, wanting to tell him you thought the opposite, but his flesh hand moves to his pocket before you can talk.

“Big bad mobster huh? Oh doll you have no idea,” he says with an indiscernible look on his face, pulling out his glock.

Oh fuck, I was only teasing.

“Wait Buck-“ you start before he cuts you off.

“Y/n…Are you scared of me?” He asks, his grip on your wrists loose enough that you could get out of his grip if you wanted to.

You didn’t move. Looking into his eyes, an overwhelming feeling of calm takes over, the blue of his eyes the same as the sky after a storm.

“…no. I’m not.” I probably should be but apparently I’m crazy.

“Do you think I’m bad?” He asks.

All the stories, all the rumours, the memory of your first meeting, and the call he took in the shop come flooding to the forefront of your mind. That he’s a man with no mercy, cares for nothing and no one - except money, sex, and violence.

“…not to me.” You answer.

He pulls his arm up, holding the glock in between your faces, showing it to you. The bottom of his tattoo- your tattoo- sticks out from under his sleeve.

A normal person without a broken brain would take this as a threat. Why am I attracted to this?

He makes eye contact with you over the barrel, turning his hand and resting the muzzle on your cheek, but there is no fear in you, you can see his trigger finger resting on the side of the barrel.

“Do you trust me Y/N?” Bucky asks, his eyes not moving from yours.

You take a second to think about it.

The man is a fucking mobster for Christs’ sake. He’s a criminal, a gun runner, a drug trafficker, and not to mention a killer. His kills have hit the news before, no evidence proving it was his organisation, but everyone knows. It doesn’t matter if it was Bucky that pulled the trigger, held the knife, planted the bomb, nothing happened that wasn’t on his order. Can I really trust a man like that?

Your hesitation to answer has an effect on Bucky. He moves the gun, dragging it down your neck and resting the muzzle in the dip of your collar bone. You look down at his hand, finger still nowhere near he trigger.

“Y/n.” He calls quietly. Your eyes jump back to his and he speaks again, “do you think I would ever hurt you?”

That question has an answer you don’t have to think about.

“Not unless I did something to deserve it.” Your attempt at humour was immediately seen to be the wrong answer.

He sticks the gun back in your face, muzzle pushing between you lips, scratching your teeth. The movement causes your eyes to go wide, fear slipping onto your face.

“Did you do something to deserve it? Have you fucked me over Y/n?” His voice is tense, deadly serious, an unstable look in his eyes, his metal hand tightening on your wrists.

You lean back a little to answer, “…no, no of course not Buck. What’s going on? You’re freaking me out.”

He stares at you for what feels like hours, his face perfectly still, not giving anything away.

She doesn’t know. She truly has no idea. Thank fuck.

He drops the gun and lets go of your wrists, taking a few steps back, giving you space.

“I’m sorry doll, I’ve just had very hard day, some new information was given to me and it’s fucked me up a bit. I’m sorry Y/n, truly I am, I didn’t mean to freak you out.” His hands run through his hair, pulling at it harshly. “Shit darlin’, what the hell was I doing?” He mumbles the last bit to himself.

“Buck..Bucky, hey calm down, it’s okay-” you start before he talks again.

“It’s not okay! I just put a fucking gun in your face.” He keeps rambling, seeming like a whole other person than he was a minute ago.

“Buck! Stop, stop jabbering,” you grab his wrists, taking his hands from his hair and pulling him towards you.

He stops talking, and stares at your hands in his, the metal of his prosthetic shining a stark contrast against your skin.

You take a second to look at him, eyes studying his face. He looks worried, and a little scared.

Huh, didn’t know a mobster could get scared. Is he’s scared of me and what I’m gonna say… or is he scared of himself?

“You don’t scare me Buck…you probably should, but you don’t. ‘Cos you’ve been nothing but good to me, even a minute ago when you were acting weird, I knew you weren’t gonna do anything-”

“How? How did you trust me to not hurt you, when I was waving my glock in your face?”

“You had your finger on the barrel”

He’s silent for a few seconds, thinking over what you said. He takes a deep breath, meeting your eyes.

“I don’t know what to say,” Bucky responds.

“Then don’t say anything.” You say, the imagine of him with a gun in his hand fresh in your mind.

That whole episode should not have been as hot as it was. Shit I’m fucked up.

Bucky stares at you (he does that a-lot), unsure of his next move.

“Kiss me, dumbass.”

He moves before you can blink, his hands gently grabbing your face and pulling you to him. His kiss takes your breath away, gentle but firm. Your hands grip his elbows, encouraging him to keep going.

He takes the hint (thank fuck) and splits your lips with his tongue, his nose pressed hard against your cheek. He moves his hands down to your hips, gripping hard. Your hands grip the back of his head, fingers playing with his hair, tugging at it slightly when he completely deepens the kiss, your tongues tangling together. He lets out a quiet groan at the feeling, taking his left hand off your hip and tensing it by his side. You break the kiss when you feel the loss of his touch.

You take a second to catch your breath, Bucky leaning his head against yours.

“Why did you take your hand off me?” You ask.

“What?” He responds, the small dazed look on his face making you chuckle a little.

“Your hand, I liked it where it was.”

“Oh..that. It’s uh..it’s pretty strong, I can’t tell how hard I’m holding something, I can’t feel it so I tend to hold things a bit too hard… I broke like 5 cups in the past week-” he answers, stuttering his way through the sentence.

“Stop talking Buck, and you say I ramble,” You say, putting your finger to his lips. He stops talking, and you continue, “I trust you Buck, I’ll tell you if you’re holding me too hard. Plus I like it a little rough.” You finish with a wink at him, pulling his hand back to your waist.

He drops his head back, eyes closed and takes a deep breath in. He mumbles under his breath something that sounds like ‘god you’re perfect’, then he crashes his lips back into yours, both hands tightening on your hips.

He moves faster now, more intense with his kiss, his teeth scraping yours slightly and he presses you backwards, walking with you until you bump into the wall, his flesh hand stopping your head from hitting it.

Aww how sweet. The thought is thrown from your head when Bucky drops his head and presses kisses to your jaw, his hand curling in your hair to pull your head back, exposing your neck to him.

“Oh shit,” you whisper, as he licks a long stripe up your neck, nipping at the pulse points he finds. Your hands drop to his hips and pull him flush to you, groaning when you feel how much you’ve affected him. He kisses his way back to your lips, his metal hand moving to rest on the side of your neck, thumb resting in the front of your neck. Bucky gives you a long hard kiss then pulls back breathing hard.

“God girl, you are gonna be the death of me,” he whispers, lips brushing against yours as he talks.

“Fuck I hope not,” you respond, pulling his hips tighter against yours making him choke back a groan at the feeling.

His phone starts to ring.

Fuck off.

You pull him to you again, lips trailing across his jaw.

“Shit doll, wait a second baby-” he starts before you cut him off.

“Wait? Wait for what Buck, you don’t want me?” You tease, brushing your nose along his.

He crashes his lips against yours, his ringtone fading as his kiss overtakes your mind. Bucky pulls back after a few seconds, growling softly before stepping back to pull his phone out of his pocket.

“Are you seriously gonna answer that?” You ask, incredulous to his action.

“I have to darlin, could be an emergency,” he answers, taping the screen to answer. He puts the phone to his ear and says, “talk to me.”

You ignore his conversation, grabbing his metal hand to inspect it. The plates shift as you turn it over to look at the palm.

What an incredible feat of engineering, I wonder how it works. And how it feels-

Your dirty thoughts are cut short as he pulls his hand out of your grip, turning and taking a few steps away from you. His voice is quiet, probably to keep you from hearing whatever illegal shit they were discussing.

You jump when he shouts.

“THE FUCK? Rogers you get them to find more information on those shitheads, or I swear to fuck I will rip their fucking hearts out. I don’t care anymore, this shit needs to stop right the fuck now!” He stops his tirade and listens to ‘Rogers’ on the other side for a few second before he starts up again, “I know that asshole…one of the fuckers is married, find the wife… I have no idea if she’s involved man, I doubt it but she’d be good leverage… and get me some more information on their business so I’m not going into this shit show unprepared.”

That gets your full attention. Find the wife? Leverage? And do what? Threaten her? Hurt her? …kill her?

A shiver rips its way down your spine at that thought.

Would he do that? If she’s not a part of the issue, would he still hurt her? He already proved he’d hurt anyone that fucked him over, proved that when he stuck his gun in my mouth.

“Yeah…I know, get Stark on it, send Talia and Barton out too, see if they can get any news on the street… tell Barton to keep his cool, I don’t need anymore shit right now” Bucky says, switching the phone to his metal hand, using his flesh one to pull at his hair again.

His back is still turned to you, his coat stretches over his shoulder, the back rising with his hand in his hair.

He has a gun in his waistband.

Your eyes flit to the glock he drop on the floor earlier, and back to the one tucked in his waistband.

Is two guns really necessary?

Your answer comes with his next sentence.

“Fuck Steve I know that…you think I got this far without any personal protection? I’m good if anything happens man but I don’t think it will, they seemed pretty insistent on the fact they meant no harm..”

He continues to talk for a minute until he ends the call with a quick “get it done Steve, or we’re all fucked.” He places the phone back in his pocket, takes a few deep breaths and turns back to you with a tense look on his face. He takes another deep breath and steps towards you. Without meaning to you take a step back, hitting the wall behind you. Bucky stops as soon as he sees your movement.

“Sorry about that sweetheart, didn’t mean to upset ya.” He says, his voice quiet and calm, as if he was talking to a injured dog.

You let the silence linger for a second, deciding whether or not to ask the question that was begging to be said.

Fuck it.

“What are you going to do to her?”

He tilts his head at the question, unsure of what you’re talking about.

You take pity on his confusion.

“The wife? What are you going to do when you find her?”

Something settles in his eyes, his mouth twisting into a grim line.

“Nothing…unless I have to.” Bucky responds.

His answer does nothing to calm your pounding heart.

“You mean you won’t do anything unless you find out she’s involved?”

“Yes.”

“So you won’t do anything if she’s not a part of …whatever it is?” You ask.

“That’s right.” He nods with his answer.

“Except use her as leverage?”

He’s silent for a moment, and sighs as he rolls his left shoulder. He doesn’t break eye contact, and he’s completely resigned to whatever his answer is about to be.

“If I have to.” There is no lie in his voice, no guilt or remorse in his eyes.

Holy fuck. There’s the soldier again, the man with no mercy, does whatever he needs to come out on top.

You take a deep breath, trying to calm yourself.

He wouldn’t hurt me. Would he?

He answers like he heard your thought.

“It’s business doll, we do what we have to do. Sometimes it’s rough and bad and awful and yes, people get hurt. Sometimes even innocent people get hurt. But I will never apologise for being the one that does the hurting, me and mine have had our fair share of getting hurt, and I’d rather hurt and use some people I don’t care about, than watch my people, my family, get hurt. I will not allow that to happen, not when I can to something about it.” He stands straight, like a soldier. The conviction in his voice actually makes you feel calmer.

Assuming I’m someone he cares about, I should be fine, right?

It slips off your tongue before you can catch it.

“Do you care about me?” You shift your weight as you talk, unsure if you actually want to hear the answer.

“I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.” He states, his tone steady.

“Say it properly,” you demand, crossing your arms over your chest, a subconscious way of protecting yourself, “I need you to say it properly Bucky.”

He shifts his weight now, seemingly uncomfortable.

“Yes… I do care about you,” he answers, clearing his throat in the middle of his statement, “do you care about me?”

You were unprepared for him to flip it back on you.

“I need you to answer truthfully Y/n. Do you care about me, as I am? The ‘big bad mobster’” he says, taking a step closer to you, and taking another when you don’t move away from him.

“The man who broke into your flat to threaten your roommate who owes me? The one who was going to shoot your friends dead on the street? The one who stuck a gun in your face? I’m a killer Y/n, a fucking mobster, and I’m not changing any time soon. Do you care about me as I am?” He asks, reminding you of the shit he’s done since you met him, not even counting the things you haven’t heard about.

You take a second to consider his questions.

I think I do, how fucked am I that I do?

You finally clock what he said.

“You were going to shoot who dead on the street?!”

————

hehehehe I feel like an evil mastermind.

If you are not tagged here- I either will tag you in a separate post- or I cannot tag you for some reason.

Tags:

@shuriri4life @calwitch @goodkittyspost @iateall-yourcookies @miss-i-ship-it @mrs-bucky-barnes-73 @anawhitethorn @radiator-hands @tripletstephaniescp @yeahimcrying @shifting2places @1-800-bxrnes @fandomsfallnomore @bushtail @ghostofwinter @missdarlingsb @amiets2 @leabunny @justmarlen3 @bofadeezs @jehduxi @grey107th @king-of-spades-aroace @sebismyhubby @princezzjasmine @sebastianswhore @cluckityduck

@sleepyghostygirl @starlightaurorab @where-the-river-bends @imagines-of-the-fandom @bigenargy @uraverageatiny @squeezyvalkyrie @mylifeispainandiloveit @mrvlxgrl @bopbeepboopbopbeep @yvessaintmuerte @thecubanator2 @flubblubbb @teambarnes72 @ria132love @rivthejellyfish @mybakubaby @blue-chup @goatsmcgee @facinated-lemon @daddylorianisastateofmind @buckybarnesb-tch

#mob!bucky barnes x reader #mob!bucky fic #mob!bucky x tattoo artist!reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky x reader #mob!bucky #mob!bucky x female!reader

209 notes · View notes

barleyo · 7 months

Text

Love Machine. (Part Two)

Android! Leon Kennedy X Fem! Reader

A/N: Sorry for the wait! It took me a while to brainstorm ideas for this. Plus, I’ve been super busy lately! However, I have been trying to keep myself out of another hiatus, so, here I am with another fic! Hope you all enjoy, I love you all a whole bunch :)

Wordcount: 1.6K

Tags: Oral (m receiving), face fucking, rough sex, p in v, spit play, hair pulling, sex doll/android, slight degradation, kinda some objectification (?)

Leon became a permanent fixture in (Y/N)’s sex life. She had practically disregarded every other toy she had; none of the cute, little vibrators in her top drawer could do the job for her anymore. She needed something real– well, sort of real.

The longer she owned him, the more attached she got to him, and the less ashamed she became of having him in her possession. She even started to see him as more of a boyfriend, going as far as to keep him almost always on, allowing him to walk around her home freely.

“Can I? I mean, I don’t know if it’ll do anything for you, but….” (Y/N) was already on her knees, sitting right between Leon’s legs while he sat on the plush couch’s cushion.

“Everything you do does something for me,” he quickly interrupted, running his hand over the cold metal of his belt buckle, a shining addition to the pants she had found for him soon after bringing him home. “Everything.”

Her hands flew up to replace his own. Using the pad of her thumb, she forked the belt open and unzipped his pants. His cock was already stiff and unconstrained, with no boxers to cover the length.

“Ah,” her lips parted slightly at the sight and her tongue darted out quickly to wet them.

Leon wrapped his hand around his cock and gave it lazy strokes, watching as her eyes focused on the leaking head. “Hm? Look, it’s ready for you,” he said, a huff escaping his nose as he held back a chuckle.

She tried to lean forward to place a lick over the top, but he stopped her. His hand gripped her hair gently and forced her to look up at him.

“Hey, I’ll guide you, yeah?”

(Y/N) nodded and felt him loosen his grip, but still keep her in place with his hand. Taking the other hand, he smeared the head of his cock over her lips, coating them in a thin sheen of his pre. Her tongue slipped out again, tasting the glossy saltiness, and keeping her tongue out for him.

“Oh, that’s cute, baby. Keep that tongue out for me.”

Leon tapped his heavy tip on her tongue, smiling inwardly at how she tried to curve her tongue to coerce the full length into her mouth. He complied and pushed her head down quickly. Her throat constricted around his cock for a moment before she adjusted.

She looked at him through her eyelashes as her spit started to dribble down his length and down her chin. Her jaw already ached at how wide her mouth had been split to fit him, but she powered through, eyebrows drawing together and eyes pricking with tears. Pressing her head down one more time before letting her go, he groaned at the tight, warm, wet fluttering of her throat, desperate for air.

“Christ, Leon,” she said with a choked gasp, “didn’t know it’d be that rough.”

“Rough? (Y/N), you don’t even know what rough feels like, you big baby,” Leon said with a dry laugh, clearly trying to get a reaction out of her.

“Yes, I do, and that was it.” She rose up and sat over one of his thighs, wrapping her arms over his shoulders and wiping the corner of her mouth with the back of her hand. “Couldn’t even breathe.”

“Well, if you really wanna have the air knocked outta you,” he teased, slightly moving his head and turning to show his dial the best he could.

“Oh, hell no, you already wear me out enough as it is, Leon.”

“Aw, c’mon, I bet you’ll like it, if you try it.” He tilted his head to the side and offered her the dial again.

(Y/N) pursed her lips for a second while she thought and hovered her fingers over the dial. “Okay, but you have to at least try to be easy with me.” She bit the bullet and switched the dial to rough mode.

“No promises.”

Leon’s eyes blanked out for a split second, and a red light flashed out from them as he rebooted. For a moment, they just looked at each other, and he only acted when she tried to call out to him.

“Leon–?”

“Been too easy on you, baby.” He pushed her off of his lap and onto the couch, trapping her under his weight. “You getting soft on me? Can’t handle it when ‘m a lil mean?”

“N–no, Leon,” she mumbled, keeping her eyes averted from his. His gaze felt stronger now, she could feel him piercing through her with every look.

“Don’t lie to me. You can’t even look me in my eyes, can you? Hey,” he called, gripping her chin and making him look at him again. “Look at me when I talk to you, you know better, hon.”

She tried to respond, but she couldn’t force herself to. Her mouth and eyes went dry. Leon sighed, his breath short and warm as he pulled her body down to the other end of the couch.

“If you won’t talk, I’ll use your mouth ‘til you have somethin’ to say.” He hovered over her face with his thighs on either side of her head. Without any hesitation, Leon bottomed out in her throat, feeling the back of it. It was smooth and warm against his shaft, and the squeezing of (Y/N)’s choked gurgling only prompted him to fuck it harder. “Oh,” he chuckled darkly, “there, sweet girl. Got such a nice mouth, feels so good wrapped around me. Could use you like this forever.”

She reached up and grabbed onto the thick muscle of one of his thighs, bracing herself for his pace. He pulled out after a moment, moving down so that he had her trapped still, legs caging around her hips. She whined and coughed a bit, grimacing at Leon’s smirking face.

“All that cryin’ n’ moaning needs to stop, baby. Are y’ready to be a big, tough girl f’me?”

(Y/N)’s voice was croaking and wheezy as she spoke. “Yes, I can do it– can be good for you,” she said.

“Good.” Leon was already pulling her pants off of her, tossing them far over his shoulder. He placed her legs over his waist and slotted himself between them. He let his thumb trail over her clit, just barely touching it. His other hand gripped and held her hips down while she tried to inch them up into his whispering touches. “No, stop all that. I’ll give you what I think you need.” He added a bit more pressure, enough to have the full pad of his thumb pressed against the little bud.

“Please, I need more. Can you fuck me, please?” She impatiently wrapped her legs closely around him, forcing his hand away from her cunt, but pressing his cock right against it.

“You’re so needy, baby,” he cooed, giving into her and rutting his tip through her slick. “How bad do you want it, huh? How bad?”

“S–so bad, fuck, c’mon, don’t tease me.”

He pressed his lips against hers roughly, gnashing their teeth together and slipping his tongue over hers. There was no softness in the exchange, only rough, red-hot pleasure. Leon finally pushed inside of her. She gasped at the intrusion, despite her begging, the feeling of him pushing into her cunt was unexpected. He fucked into her mouth with his tongue while he started to burry himself deep inside of her.

Pulling away from the kiss, Leon was slowly pulling in and out of (Y/N)’s pussy, observing how her face contorted. “Open, (Y/N).”

Her eyebrows were furrowed a bit, a reaction to the sudden sharp thrust from him. She parted her lips and let a moan bubble in her chest when she felt his spit hit her tongue.

“Swallow. Swallow, dirty girl,” he urged, eyes glued to her mouth as he watched her hold it in her mouth greedily. She swallowed it and opened her mouth again to him, showing him the proof. “Good girl, you listen to me so well when you want to,” he said, caressing her face softly.

She nodded and bit down on her bottom lip. A soft, content sigh left her. Leon was being relatively gentle with her, until he felt a sharp squeeze from her walls.

“How’re you already close? I haven’t hardly done anything to you,” Leon said, trailing his hands down to her waist. He held onto her sides, hard enough to bruise later, and moved her body down on his cock, sliding her up and down like a toy. “If you’re gonna cum, you might as well cum nice n’ hard, yeah?”

He didn’t wait for an answer, and instead scooped her into his arms briefly while he laid on his back. She sat, straddling him, waiting for him to move her body. She took possession of his shoulder, digging her nails into the skin while he brought her hips up and down, bringing her to the very tip of his cock, and slamming her back to the base with brutal strokes.

She couldn’t last very long, soon throwing her head over his shoulder and gripping his blonde hair in her fingers, pulling at his scalp tightly with a deep, guttural moan. Thin globs of her arousal dripped down his cock and onto the couch, leaving wet spots over the fabric.

“Oh, that was a good one,” he said, feeling his cock kick in her, prodding at her g-spot and overstimulating her. He shifted his hips upward in a ruthless strike against her tender, abused pussy.

“Fuck, Leon, too much,” she mewled, leaning back to look at him again. Her face was flushed and sweaty, eyes heavy and lidded from her orgasm.

“No such thing,” he said, pushing her down on the couch again, holding her weak arms above her head and rutting into her. “This time, I wanna see your cute lil’ face when you cum. Can you do that for me? Hm, baby?”

#barleyxnighteye #fanfiction #smut #smutfic #x reader #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy #resident evil x reader #resident evil #re2 leon #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy x y/n #leon scott kennedy #alternate universe #fanfic

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bramblebush3 · 3 months

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Ygraine de Bois had been dead for a long time now. Decades. Yet, she never lacked for something to do. She tried not to think of what Uther had done; the lives he had destroyed. She remembered when he had been kind, quite like Arthur, really. But those days were long passed. Now, she watches Arthur grow up. Oh, how she adored him. She was not always pleased with his choices and actions, but she was always proud of him. And then: Merlin. The young boy was fiery and bright, with a lively glow and an infectious smile. Ygraine could not help but feel amused and joyful as she watched him insult her son in an effort to stand up for the poor servant Arthur had chosen to pick on that day. She felt something was different about Merlin, and she could tell Arthur did too. She had always been quite magic sensitive, so Arthur being so as well was not a stretch. The full body laugh that escaped her as she watched her husband proclaim Merlin Arthur’s manservant warmed her to her core, and the feeling something was changing wiggled its way into her head.

She was right, of course. Ygraine watched as Arthur changed, becoming something more. And she knew. Oh, she knew. It was all because of Merlin. The adorable, smiling manservant who made luminescent butterflies and defended Arthur against anything that wished him harm. Before she knew it, Merlin had become as much a fixture of her life as Arthur. Ygraine watched, a swooping feeling of excitement in her chest, as Arthur and Merlin’s relationship became something deeper than even that of friendship. Love.

So now, Ygraine watches Arthur carefully and reverently gift Merlin her sigil. Merlin does not know exactly what it means (neither of them do, really), but he cradles it as if it is the most precious thing in the world. Ygraine smiles, and finally allows her soul to pass on.

#bbc merlin #arthur pendragon #merlin #bbc merthur #ygraine de bois #i cried a little writing this #ygraine de bois' sigil

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gildedlead · 3 months

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All of the Wayne kids’ favorite Leaguers: True and Real and Accurate

Dick: Wonder Woman! Bear with me. Please. I think Superman was his favorite BEFORE he met Clark. Once he learned how big of a dork he was, the magic was sort of lost, doubly so when Clark became his unofficial stepdad. Diana? She stayed cool. Not to mention that in his Robin days, she often humored whatever hare-brained impulses he’d get. Please picture Batman’s bewildered expression when he finds Dick dangling from the Watchtower light fixture he specifically designed to be impossible for him to reach. Diana just, -shrug- “He said please.” You threw him Diana. You threw that child. She’d probably still throw him if he asked nicely, hell, she’d probably do it even before he has to ask. It’s ‘Boy Wonder’, not ‘Boy Bat’.

Jason: Black Canary. ‘Wonder Woman is Jason’s fav’ believers PLEASE hear me out. I think that Diana is Jason’s favorite in a ‘celebrity crush’ way, but Dinah is Jason’s favorite in a ‘cool aunt’ way. He met her unofficially at the Watchtower, but actually started hanging out with her thanks to Roy. They both like motorcycles and kicking ass, plus Young Justice having Canary as a therapist melds well with my vision of her helping Jason heal. And I think she’s used to yelling at Bruce on Oliver’s behalf, so it’s no big to do it on Jason’s too.

Tim: The Flash! If Dinah is the cool aunt, Barry is the cool uncle. Guy that shows up at the function with all the best snacks. He might eat half of them himself but damn if he didn’t bring them. In all seriousness, Tim saw pretty great merit in knowing a forensics guy that he can basically talk to anytime he’s stumped with a case without having to go through the “sorry to wake you” song and dance. Barry occasionally gets unhinged texts that are in the vein of “hey can you go about ten minutes back in time and tell past me about _____”. They’re usually pretty low stakes but sometimes there’s just a “got stabbed, do-over?” jumpscare sprinkled in. Bruce will never ever get shit from Barry about kid troubles. That man is a saint in Flash’s eyes.

Cass: Captain Marvel. She didn’t like him at all during their first meeting. For a person that’s good at reading body language, I imagine that seeing genuinely childish behavior on a grown man would be giving some crazy mixed signals. Once she learns that his powers are magic in origin rather than being alien or meta, her mind opens up a little more to the possibility that his exterior appearance might not be indicative of his actual identity. Cass guesses his age by their next proper meeting and makes it her business to keep an eye on him, always asking Bruce about him after he returns from League missions. Your honor, that 7’5” brick wall Champion of Magic is actually just Cass’ little buddy. She’s gonna get him some ice cream or something.

Steph: Green Lantern. Hal and Barry are like uncles, except if Barry is the cool one, Hal is the cringe one. Lucky for Hal, being a boyfailure is a good way to amuse Steph. Those two are gonna spend hours arguing with Bruce just for the hell of it, backing each other up on completely incorrect claims (Steph does it because it’s funny, Hal does it because he believes her). He does get bonus points for bringing her cool space snacks whenever he comes back from trips off-world. One of her favorite foods is a sort of hi-chew/gum thing from some other planet in Sector 2418 that doesn’t dissolve or lose its flavor, even after chewing it for days on end.

Damian: Aquaman. He’s a king. Like, an actual king. And he can communicate with fish. Arthur heard about Damian’s temper from the rest of the Leaguers and straight up does not believe it because every time he’s spoken to Damian, it’s been “hello your majesty can you introduce me to an octopus I have a few questions for it”. This one’s short. But I feel it speaks for itself.

Duke: Superman. Clark was NOT told about Signal taking up the day shift in Gotham until he was flying in to compare notes (read: flirt), with Bruce and met Duke when they both went to intercept a carjacking. Clark tries to be responsible like “I feel obligated to let you know that Batman doesn’t take kindly to metas in his city”, only for Duke to point at the big ol bat on his chest. After that, Duke usually intercepts Big Blue’s flight path anytime he comes into Gotham and the two just kind of hang out and shoot the shit while he does his patrol. Duke is also a little bit stoked to be regularly hanging out with The Superman, but even after the awe wears off, he can’t help but still think of Clark as just a cool, friendly guy. He gets someone to share the airspace with, Clark gets a bat he can stay in the sun with, it’s a win/win all around. Congrats Clark, you got one.

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strangersmunsons · 5 months

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read 'em and weep #3

you and Eddie spend more time together. romance blossoms.

Chapter 3 Eddie x Bookworm!Reader Series Read Ch. 2 -> Here!

Contains: Eddie x Reader, fem!bookworm!reader, lowkey shy!reader, new love and giddiness all around, and a brief cameo from Steve. Warnings: mentions of food/eating. Word Count: 5.5k this took me sooo, ridiculously long to finish. work, writer's block, etc kept getting in the way! hopefully this is okay. i've spent far too much time at this point editing & second-guessing everything, i finally just had to stop overthinking & post!

You’re lying on your bed, nearly dozing when the telephone on your nightstand starts ringing shrilly.

The shock of it startles you from your half-sleep, and you blearily push yourself upright from the prone position. One hand smashes into the pages of the magazine you’d been skimming through, which slips forward on the soft bed covers.

Too comfy to really want to move, you stretch over and clumsily pick up the phone, bringing it up to your ear. “Hello?”

“Hey, it’s Eddie,” says the voice on the other end. There’s a fuzziness around the edge of his words as they crackle through the speaker.

It’s not the first time he’s rang you at this hour, but a thrill still shoots through you at the sound of his voice. “Hi.”

Eddie has quickly become a fixture in your life over the past few weeks. Your friendship continued to blossom with each visit he paid you at the library, where he gave you live updates on his reading progress, not even bothering to wait until he was finished before sharing his opinions. He was nice, and funny, and you became increasingly fond of him.

Then one day, while he was chatting your ear off about something or other, it hit you: you think Eddie’s pretty. His face is sculpted but soft, everything just looks so soft. The rounded chin and cheeks, the bulbous tip of his nose that looks like the perfect place to plant a tiny kiss…

He had kept on talking, but you could hardly hear what he was saying. Suddenly all you could focus on was the prickly warmth creeping up the back of your neck and into your ears. It was reminiscent of a feeling you’d had once or twice before around him, but this time it came in swinging. And finally, you could see it for what it really was. Oh.

“Did I wake you up? Sorry, I know it’s kinda late.”

“No, I was still up.”

You sound a bit groggy, but if Eddie notices, he doesn’t mention it. “Okay, good. How are you?”

“I’m alright. How are you?”

“I’m alright,” he echoes back wryly. “How was your day? Did you have to work?”

“Yes, I did. It was good.” You reconsider, an uncomfortable moment spent with your boss flashing back to you, and grimace. “Mostly, anyway. How was your day?”

“Listen, don’t worry about me yet, I’m trying to ask about you. Tell me about your day, why was it only mostly good?”

Eddie seems to have a knack for that; saying things that make your heart flutter in a very nonchalant way, like it’s no big deal. You’re glad this conversation is over the phone, so he can’t see the dopey look on your face.

“Well…” You bite your lip. “It’s not a big deal, but do you know the librarian at all?”

“Marissa? Unfortunately. She’s kind of a bitch.”

“Yeah, she is. And today she overheard me telling another clerk what I have planned for Story Time this weekend, and she doesn’t like it. So she got kind of nasty with me.”

“Why? Are you reading something very inappropriate?”

“I want to read them this Dr. Seuss book, Bartholomew and the Oobleck, do you remember that one? And then for the craft period, we’ll make the oobleck. It’s really easy, just cornstarch and water. But she’s saying that I shouldn’t do it because it’s going to make too much of a mess.”

“Oobleck is supposed to be a really thick slime, right? The whole point is that it gets everywhere and they can’t get rid of it?”

“Well, yeah,” you admit. “So she might actually have a point.”

“Are you kidding?” he replies brightly. “They’ll love that shit. You should do it anyway, I think that’s a sick idea.”

“Thank you.” There’s a touch of pride in your voice. You really do try your best to come up with fun and interesting things for the kids. Encouraging them to read and sparking their creativity is all you ever hope for. “I also think it’s a great opportunity to teach them all about non-Newtonian fluids.”

Eddie barks out a laugh, and it digs sharply into your ear.

“You’re funny sometimes, you know that?”

You were being serious, but if it means you’re making Eddie laugh, then you suppose you’ll take it.

He continues without waiting for an answer. “If you need help cleaning up after, I can be around for that, since I don’t work until later.”

Immediately, your brain conjures up visions of green goo splattering everywhere, getting stuck to the low tables and entrenching itself into the carpet. You can’t bring yourself to inflict that upon him. “That’s awfully sweet of you, but you absolutely do not have to do that,” you reassure him.

“I’ll be there,” he says firmly.

“No!”

“I wanna play with the oobleck. I’ll be there.”

“Fine,” you concede with a laugh. “I won’t argue with that.” There’s a warm pause, mutual affection running through the miles of telephone wire connecting the two of you. You fiddle with a small pilled spot on the bedspread. “So how’s the latest book coming along?”

“Well,” he heaves out with a great sigh, “I finally finished Left Hand of Darkness, which was really good. I can’t say I liked it better than Earthsea, but I enjoyed it. I get why you like it so much.”

“Comes down to personal preference. I’ve never met a bigger fantasy nerd than you, so Earthsea would be tough competition.”

“For my own sake, I’m choosing to take that as a compliment. Oh, and Genly and Estraven definitely had sex when they were alone on the ice together. I don’t care if they say otherwise.”

“Oh, they totally did!” you concur with a giggle.

“They were definitely kemmering, or whatever it is you’re supposed to call it. Anyway, I’m on to Geek Love now, and frankly, I’m shocked that you recommended this to me.”

“Why? You don’t like it?” It is a little grotesque, but you thought he’d be into that.

“No, I do. But I just can’t believe that a sweet thing like you would read a book like this.”

Your cheeks flood with heat as the word bounces around your head. Sweet, sweet, sweet — he thinks I’m sweet. “I like all kinds of books,” you mumble, and mentally kick yourself for not coming up with something more flirtatious to say back. The banter came a little more easily before you realized just how much you like him.

“So I’ve gathered.”

“Just you wait. I’ll have you reading the Brontës in no time.”

He huffs in disbelief. “Right. That’s likely.” He clears his throat. “Hey, um, can I ask you something?” There’s an edge to his voice you’re not used to hearing.

“Shoot.”

“Do you wanna come and hang out at my place this weekend? We could get food and watch a movie, like Lord of the Rings or something, if you still wanted to see it. Or we can go to the video store and pick something out. You can choose.”

So far, Eddie’s only ever come to visit you at the library. The prospect of spending time with him alone — truly alone, without coworkers and patrons lurking just around the corner — makes your heart hammer dizzyingly against your ribs. You keep your answer simple. “Yes. I would like that.”

“Awesome.”

Wayne can hear one side of the discussion drifting through the trailer when he comes home, kicking his work boots off and leaving them by the door. Halfway across the living room he spies his nephew in the kitchen, and his eyebrows shoot up at the state of him.

Eddie’s leaning with his back against the wall, the phone held in place between his cheek and his shoulder. One ringed hand is twirling the phone cord around his finger as he speaks in a low voice, goofy grin plastered on his face.

They make eye contact across the trailer. Eddie immediately straightens up and tries to neutralize his expression.

Wayne snorts out a laugh.

“So, um, so anyway—“ Eddie fumbles with the phone “— does six o’clock work?” He turns to the side in a poor attempt to muffle the conversation.

Wayne steps into the kitchen and tosses his jacket and lunchbox across the table. He makes a kissy-face at Eddie.

Eddie gives him the finger.

The day Eddie is meant to see you takes forever to arrive. However, as he stares at his reflection in his dresser mirror, he starts to feel like maybe it actually came way too quickly.

He’d spent the past half-hour wildly picking through his closet, combing his hair with his fingers, trying to figure out how he should present himself as more and more clothing gets flung around the room. Eventually he gave up on his hair, and came up with an ensemble he liked, but would you like it? Would you like him?

To the untrained eye, Eddie is wearing his standard Eddie-uniform: tight black pants and a band t-shirt. On the surface, it’s a regular outfit for him. But if one is a truly acute observer, they should clearly be able to see that there are subtle variations within this basic framework he’s donning that scream “Eddie Munson is Trying to Impress a Girl!”

His ripped jeans have tears that expose swaths of skin not just on his knees, but his thighs as well (scandalous!) and he’s wearing his coolest Slayer t-shirt, the one that he ripped the sleeves off of so that his tattooed arms are on full display. And it’s just loose enough so that when he leans forward, the fabric gives way so you can catch a glimpse of his chest, with its sparse hair and winking nipple ring.

It’s all very deliberate.

But as much as Eddie doesn’t want to admit it, he’s nervous. While he becomes increasingly enamored of you, unable to keep the sly compliments and saccharine terms of endearment from slipping out, you get more shy. He still hasn’t figured out if that’s a good or bad sign.

Both of you seem to be hovering in romantic limbo, tiptoeing along the fine line between friendship and flirtation. Playful and insecure. Tender and uncertain. Was your puckish rapport a new experience, or were you like that with every person you met? Did you like it when he phoned you late at night and called you honey and sweetheart, or were you just too polite to correct him? Did you hold his name and face in your soft heart when he wasn’t right there next to you, like he did yours?

He’d chickened out at the last minute, dancing around the word ‘date.’

Eddie could be smooth on occasion, sure. But it was different when you knew you didn’t actually have a shot in hell with the person you were talking to. He didn’t have to be afraid of rejection when he already knew it was coming.

Like, he could flirt and wink at Chrissy Cunningham all he wanted and invite her to the Hideout because he knew full-well that she was never really going to show up to watch his band play — let alone dump her boyfriend to go out with him. So he could ham it up, make a fool of himself, and then shrug it all off when nothing happened.

Only a few girls had ever taken him up on his offers. And they always ended up being private affairs; nobody wanted to risk being seen out at dinner with Eddie Munson. Instead there were quick and clumsy trysts in the back of his van or in the woods behind the school, and he was reduced to a novelty notch in the bedpost, a secret for them to whisper about at slumber parties, the eponymous who of a giggly “Guess who I hooked up with!”

It took Eddie a minute to catch on. He remembers the first time, when he hooked up with a girl at a party he was dealing at during his junior year. The next school day, he tried approaching her in the hallway as she chatted with a fellow cheerleader, and she quite literally turned on her heel and ran — but not without shooting him a look of such intense disdain that it made Eddie physically flinch. Her friend snapped her locker shut, and snickered knowingly at Eddie before following suit.

He won’t lie, that one stung. He’d stood there in mild shock at being brushed off so harshly, while other students milled about, completely oblivious to his distress; someone deliberately knocked their shoulder into his as they passed by, causing the handle of his lunchbox to slip out from his sweaty fist. It fell to the floor with a loud clang that echoed about his ears.

Eddie had already had a pretty good idea of what other people thought of him, but boy, did it really sink in that day.

It set the framework for what his love life would look like for the rest of high school. Which maybe wouldn’t have been so horrible to deal with, if only he hadn’t been in high school for two years longer than he’d expected to be.

So he leaned into it. It was really the only thing he could do, and hey, at least it meant that he could get some every now and then. What did it matter if they refused to make eye contact with him the next day? He didn’t need all that relationship mess, anyway. He didn’t care.

He didn’t care, he didn’t care, he didn’t care — if he tried to tell himself that one more time he was going to explode.

In reality Eddie’s a pretty lonely guy. But since meeting you? He’s hopeful for the first time in a long time that maybe his life doesn’t have to be that way.

Eddie raps on your front door with his fist, biting the inside of his cheek. Pizza and movies. Easy breezy. There has never been a more relaxed person than you, ever, he thinks, buzzing with nervous energy.

After a moment the door swings open. “Hi,” you greet him, stepping out onto the welcome mat, tugging at the shoulder strap of your purse.

“Hey,” he responds with an easy smile on his lips, one that doesn’t betray his anxiety. He gives you an approving once-over and lets out a low whistle. “Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?”

And you really are. He’s never seen you in anything but your work clothes, so he appreciates this chance to see you in an outfit that’s true to your style.

You let out an embarrassed chuckle and wave a hand at him. “Oh, please.”

“No, I’m serious! You look very nice.”

You can hardly meet his gaze, a flustered grin forming on your own face. “Thank you. So do you.”

He shrugs modestly, but his dimples show. He gestures to where his van sits parked by the curb. “Shall we?”

The interior of the van is plush and blue and smells of tobacco and something vaguely minty. Eddie insists on running around the vehicle so he can open the passenger-side door for you, and holds out his arm for you to grasp while you climb in; an unexpected act of chivalry.

“Wow, I’m getting the full VIP treatment here, aren’t I?” you ask him jokingly as you clamber onto the seat.

“Get used to it, sweetheart. I may not look it, but I’m a gentleman of the highest caliber.”

“I’m sure you are. I’ll bet Emily Post writes to you for etiquette tips.”

Eddie turns the engine on, and music starts blaring from the speakers. He quickly turns the volume down, shooting you an apologetic look. “Sorry. I, uh, I like it loud.” He gestures to a shoebox tucked away on the floor by your feet. “There’s a bunch of other tapes in there, you can pick a different one if you like.”

You’re delighted to realize that you have an opportunity to tease him. You tilt your head up, lips pouting as though you’re deep in thought. “Okay. Let's say I pull out a different tape.”

Eddie looks at you quizzically, but plays along. “Okay. Let’s say you do.”

“Now, hypothetically, I would do this because I want to hear something different from what’s playing currently. Right?”

“Right…”

You reach into the box and pull out the first tape you make contact with, and end up with the latest W.A.S.P. album. You cock an eyebrow at him while you hold out the tape for him to see. “So riddle me this: what are the chances that this album — or any of these albums, for that matter — sound any different from what you’re playing right now?”

Eddie attempts to stifle a laugh and fails. “Hey now,” he says, trying to sound stern, “there is something incredibly special and nuanced about every single tape in that box. I would never deign to compare Ride the Lightning to The Headless Children. Completely different. Worlds apart, in fact.”

You shrug, pleased with yourself. “If you say so. You would know better than me.”

“I’m gonna teach you how to be metal,” he promises, peering over his shoulder as he backs out onto the street.

You continue rifling around in his box of tapes. “Do you really think I could be? My job is reading picture books to preschoolers.”

“Totally. There’s nothing more metal than the public library.”

The first stop you and Eddie make is at his favorite local pizza joint, where he insists on paying for dinner himself — he wouldn’t even let you throw a dollar in the tip jar. The shop is conveniently located in the same strip mall as the Family Video, so after putting your order in, the two of you cross the road to browse for a movie while you wait.

When you enter the store, you’re greeted by the little tinkling sound of bells and a bored ‘Welcome’ from the employee seated at the counter.

The cashier is cute — not as cute as Eddie, you think — and probably about the same age. When he finally looks up from the counter and sees the two of you together, his eyebrows shoot up in surprise before furrowing again as he makes eye contact with Eddie.

The two boys stare at each other in mutual distaste. He nods coolly at Eddie. “Munson.”

Eddie’s reply is flat. “Harrington.”

As you approach the counter, the employee’s name tag comes into view: Steve.

Eddie strides past him and doesn’t stop, even when Steve calls out to his retreating back —

“You still haven’t brought back Spinal Tap!”

“I know,” Eddie replies, not bothering to turn around.

You follow Eddie across the store, skimming through the colorful titles. He stops abruptly in the middle of an aisle, and you bump softly into his back.

He gives you an amused smirk from over his shoulder. “Easy there.”

“Sorry,” you reply, giving him a little smile that’s all too apologetic for his liking. He can’t resist the urge to reach out and take your hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze before letting go again.

You beam at him.

“So what are we feeling?” he asks, feeling needlessly scrambled at the brief but lingering affection. “Something scary? Funny?” He bats his eyelashes dramatically. “Romantic?”

Your response is automatic. “Whatever you want is fine with me.”

Eddie frowns at you. “I told you, it’s your choice. I already picked out a two-hour cartoon.”

He’s being very sweet. But you want to pick something that he’ll enjoy, too.

Acting on a little tip from your new friend Steve the Cashier, you ask Eddie —

“So you like Rob Reiner movies, huh?”

Eddie slaps The Princess Bride down on the counter in front of Steve.

“Nice vest,” he comments.

Steve shoots him a dirty look. “Your late fees are gonna pile up.”

Eddie ignores this.

Steve sighs and begins the checkout process. Eddie can’t help noticing Steve casting you sidelong glances, his eyes flitting up and down your figure appreciatively.

Eddie clears his throat pointedly.

“Here.” Steve pushes the film back over the counter.

Eddie grabs it and heads for the door without saying anything; you, confused and a little put off by the attitude, offer Steve your most polite “Thank you!” before scurrying out after him.

Eddie holds the door for you when exiting, a pleasant expression on his face that’s a stark contrast from the one he wore when talking to Steve. When you’re both back outside, you can’t help but wonder what that cashier ever did to him.

“I take it you’re not a fan of Steve from Family Video?” you press.

Eddie looks sheepish. “You caught that, huh?”

“It was kind of hard to miss.”

He hesitates. “Well, we went to school together, and he wasn’t very nice. Let’s leave it at that.”

You simply nod, understanding his reluctance to say more. Reliving your high school trauma isn’t exactly something you’re interested in right now, either.

As you and Eddie head back across the street, your swinging arms cause your hands to brush against one another. After a moment’s hesitation, he clasps your hand in his, and your fingers intertwine, like two puzzle pieces clicking into place.

Eddie starts the drive home, and he feels a wave of apprehension.

He told you he lived in Forest Hills early on, and you didn’t bat an eyelash. But with you being so new in town, he wasn’t really sure that you even knew it was a trailer park.

It’s not that he’s embarrassed, exactly, or even that he thinks you’ll really mind — nothing you’ve said to him thus far indicated that his economic status would bother you — but being called trailer trash as many times as he has…well, it’s enough to make anyone defensive.

By the time he pulls up to the Munson trailer, he still hasn’t dared to look across the cab to see your reaction. “Well, here we are!” he exclaims in a hearty voice that doesn’t match what he’s feeling inside at all.

While you fumble between unbuckling your seatbelt and balancing the pizza box on your lap, Eddie darts out of the van so he can help you climb out again. When he opens the door he’s relieved to see that you don’t seem phased by your surroundings; you flash him the same happy smile you always do, and it gives him a boost of confidence.

Hopping up the porch steps, he unlocks the rickety front door and gestures for you to enter, bowing slightly. “After you, miss.”

You curtsey back. “Thank you, sir.”

Eddie pretends that that has less of an effect on him than it actually does.

Inside, he watches you peer around the trailer in interest. He’s glad that he did a deep-clean yesterday: there’s no clothes hanging over the furniture, any garbage he could find was bagged up and taken out, and he wiped down all the flat surfaces with the lemon-y spray cleaner that lives beneath the sink. He even dumped out all the ashtrays; when Wayne saw that, he commented that he must really like this girl.

“That’s a lot of mugs,” you comment, looking admiringly at the shelves that display years of Wayne’s little hobby. “I’m impressed.”

“They’re my uncle’s,” says Eddie as he kicks off his shoes. “I keep telling him he’s got a problem.”

“No, they’re great,” you insist. “Everybody collects something. Don’t you?”

Eddie pauses, hovering by the boxy television. “I guess so. Music. D and D shit.” He sets the pizza down on the coffee table. “Here, have a seat. I’ll get us some plates.”

Eddie walks to the kitchen and starts rifling through the cabinets for some paper plates and napkins. You call out to him from your seat on the worn sofa. “Is your uncle working right now?”

“Yeah.” Eddie pads back into the living room. “He works a lot of night shifts.”

“Are all Munsons generally nocturnal?” you ask, referring to his bartending gig at The Hideout, a job that keeps him busy well into the night.

Eddie chuckles as crouches by the coffee table, pulling off two slices of greasy pizza and laying one on each plate. “I guess you could say that,” he says, handing you your share. Brown eyes find yours and he nudges your knee with his elbow playfully. “But it leaves me free to come and bother you at work during the day, doesn’t it?”

You dig the toe of your sock into the rug and look down at the food instead of him. “I wouldn’t call you a bother.”

His full lips turn up at the corners. “You wouldn’t?” He rests his hand on your leg, and his fingers swirl a gentle pattern over your skin.

You swallow. “No.” The word comes out subdued and breathy.

Eddie doesn’t move, but stays positioned by your knee, staring up at you. “Look at me again,” he says softly, leaning in a little closer.

You do as he asks and it’s almost too much. His eyes are huge and warm and they look like everything you’ve ever wanted.

A few seconds tick by, and then the phone rings and Eddie’s standing up again, whatever momentary spell the two of you were under, broken.

“Hang on,” he says, face tinged pink.

You settle back into the sofa and squirm, feeling feverish.

Eddie wrenches the phone off the hook in annoyance. “Hello?” When the person on the other line answers, he huffs and rolls his eyes, turning away so his back is towards you. Still, you catch snippets of the exchange:

“Henderson, I said tomorrow, okay?” Eddie hisses in aggravation. “No, I don’t care if you don’t wanna do it in the morning, man. I’ve gotta work tomorrow night. You guys either come early or it’s not happening.”

You watch him curiously.

“Suck it up.” Eddie pauses to listen to the person speak again, and turns and glances at you across the trailer. Then his tone becomes noticeably gentler. “Thanks, man. I’ll let you know. See ya.”

He hangs up the phone with a sigh, and his face relaxes into a smile again.

He strolls back into the living room and claps his ringed hands together. “So! Are you ready to experience a cinematic masterpiece?”

Some three hours later, you and Eddie are slumped back against the worn cushions, now one and half movies deep. Over the course of the night you’ve slowly closed the distance between your bodies, so his leg is pressed against yours. Eddie has one arm slung over the back of the couch, fingers dancing just above the skin of your collarbone. Both of you are stuffed to the gills, and more than a little sleepy. Even Eddie, who kept up a stream of commentary during Lord of the Rings, eager to discuss his favorite bits of Middle Earth lore with you, is tuckered out.

Shenanigans play out on the television screen. You let out a huge yawn.

Eddie’s arm curls around your shoulder, hand digging into the meat of your bicep, pulling you closer to him. “This okay?” he murmurs.

You nod clumsily and start fidgeting, your hands twisting in your lap.

Eddie says your name softly. You hum in acknowledgement.

“I really like you. And I think you like me.” He cocks his head to the side. “Is that right?”

Your heart throbs.

“Yes,” you whisper.

“Okay,” he whispers back. “Can I kiss you then, sweetheart?”

You nod; Eddie leans in slowly, then presses his lips to yours for a moment before pulling back again. It’s quick, chaste and sweet, and not nearly enough. Your hands find his face, palms landing on both his cheeks so you can bring his mouth back to yours.

He’s happy to oblige.

Eddie sighs, tongue dipping into your mouth, deepening the kiss. One hand cups the back of your head, keeping you right where he wants you. The other snakes around your thigh, and he uses the leverage to abruptly pull you up and over his lap. A small “Oh!” of surprise escapes you at the jolt, but Eddie wastes no time in securing his mouth to yours again.

His kisses are wet, heady, and grow increasingly frantic as the two of you clutch at each other. Your hands weave into his hair — a longtime fantasy of yours come true at last — and he lets out a soft moan when your fingers tug gently at the tangled tresses.

Your skin feels tingly, sensitive, alight at every little touch he gives you. Your head is full of nothing but Eddie, the way he looks and feels and smells, and the way he makes you feel, like a shaken-up pop bottle, full of pink fizz and ready to burst.

Eddie suddenly laughs against your lips, smiling into another kiss.

You pull back hastily, self-consciously. But he looks jubilant, cheeks dimpled in joy, chocolate eyes crinkled at the outer corners.

“Sorry,” he says breathlessly, “it’s just — I couldn’t tell — I wasn’t really sure where your head was at.” He kisses the tip of your nose. “You kept gettin’ quiet on me all of a sudden.”

You let your head fall forward, forehead pressing into his shoulder, and let out a tiny groan. “I know. I’m sorry, it wasn’t you.”

You lift your head back up and face him. “I’m not usually very good at this stuff,” you admit. “Connecting with people. It’s harder, when you’re introverted…and have different interests. But you were so easy to talk to when we met! And I was so excited to make a new friend, but I…,” you trail off.

“But you what?” he prompts.

“The more I looked at you the cuter I thought you were.” The words come out in a rush. “When I realized what was happening I got nervous.”

Eddie waggles his eyebrows at you suggestively. “Oh, something’s happening?”

You swat at him playfully.

“I’m kidding!” He rubs your shoulders soothingly. “But you don’t have to be nervous around me. I’m just some guy, y’know?”

“You, Eddie Munson, are certainly not just some guy.”

“Aw, shucks, sweetheart. You’re makin’ me blush.”

The movie has long since ended, and a peaceful darkness settles over the trailer. The only sound is the chirp of the summer crickets outside and quiet breathing.

Eddie’s fully sprawled out over the couch with you nestled in his arms. It took some coaxing, but eventually he convinced you to lay on top of him, your warm weight better than any blanket, the sweet fragrance of your perfume soothing his senses. Your face is half-hidden in the crook of his neck, and he presses a kiss to the top of your head.

“I have a confession to make,” he says sleepily.

“Ooh. It better be something juicy.”

“It is. Excellent gossip. You can tell all your friends, I won’t even be mad.”

“Let’s hear it.”

“I scoped you out at the library,” he admits. “I came in that day specifically to talk to you. Y’know, turn on that Munson charm, and sweep you off your feet, and all that.”

“Really?” You blink, trying to jog your memory. “I don’t remember ever seeing you before that.” You think of his tousled hair and clunky jewelry. “And you’re pretty memorable.”

“Well, there’s a slight chance that I, um, ducked, and hid behind a shelf when you got close. It was the Saturday right before we met, after you did your reading.”

That recalls something for you. “Wait, wait, maybe I do remember…” It’s hazy. Pale face, brown hair? You can’t quite place this person as Eddie, but it must have been him. “I think I did see you creeping around.”

“What can I say? Your story telling enthralled me.”

It’s the truth. He’d been browsing for a Clive Barker book when he caught sight of you in the children’s area. You read We’re Going on a Bear Hunt with an enthusiasm usually reserved for trained Shakespearean actors, and it left him undeniably impressed.

You cuddle closer to him, burying your face in his chest. “I’m glad you decided to nut up and talked to me.”

He smiles against your hair. “Me too.”

Early the next morning, in the hazy gray-blue dawn, the front door opens quietly — cautiously even. Wayne’s not sure what he’ll be walking into. All he knows is that his nephew really likes this girl, and that for Eddie’s sake he hopes that his date went well. He’s not sure how much more disappointment the boy can take. He wants to see him happy.

So he’s pleasantly surprised to see you and Eddie piled up on the couch like two puppies, fast asleep and — thank Christ — fully-clothed. Eddie’s arm is slung over you protectively, his soft snores just barely audible.

Good for him.

And if they wanna sleep in the living room, that’s fine.

Wayne’s gonna take the bed.

thank you for reading!! <3 taglist: @eddiesgirlforever, @eds6ngel, @sheisahauntedhouse, @lokis-tardis-companion19, @teary-eyed-egg, @whenshelanded, @nanaminswhore, @witchwolflea

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson reader insert #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x female!reader #eddie munson x bookworm!reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson series

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beskarandblasters · 5 months

Text

Release Your Inhibitions

Inexperienced!Din Djarin x F!Reader

Main Masterlist | Din Djarin Masterlist

Author’s note: Inspired by this beautiful piece of art by @immarocketman!! If you want to, you could imagine this is in the same universe as Uncut, Grasp & Tug, Oral Fixation, and Bare It All! But reading them is not required to read this! :)

Summary: Shortly after revealing his face to you, Din’s worried about the faces he makes during sex, since he’s never had to worried about that before. You suggest something that might ease his worries; a blindfold.

Word count: 1.5k

Warnings: reader is able-bodied, canon divergent, established relationship, Din is insecure and inexperienced, helmet comes off, blindfolding, oral sex (M receiving), vaginal sex, light biting, creampie, super romantic and loving sex, use of Mando’a words/phrases (Cyar’ika = sweetheart, Ni kar'tayli gar darasuum = I love you, Yooba solus mesh'la = You are beautiful), no use of y/n

Fic notifs: @beskarandblastersfics Fic recs: @kelbellsficrecs

“Would it be alright if I left my helmet on this time?” Din says softly.

You’re at a hotel on Coruscant, a place that was a bit out of Din’s price range. But the bed is nice and big, a luxury you don’t get when you’re in the confines of the Razor Crest. You made the first move, palming the growing bulge in his flight suit. A groan escaped his lips underneath the helmet. He’s missed you today, spending most of his time chasing after a particularly difficult bounty. But once you heard the knock on the hotel room door you knew what that meant; time with him between the sheets.

He’s got you on your back and legs spread apart. Half of your clothes are strewn about on the floor and he’s down to just his flight suit. But now you’re stopped dead in your tracks, wondering what in the galaxy would make Din ask that.

“Of course, it’s alright, Din. But… why?”

He doesn’t answer right away, moving to sit at the edge of the bed. He rests his helmet in his gloved hands, slouched forward and sighing to himself. You move to sit beside him, running your hand up and down his back.

“You can tell me anything,” you remind him, feeling how his body reacts to your touch, even through all the layers.

“I’m just… insecure?” he says, unsure of his own feelings, unsure of where it’s coming from.

“Okay. Is that why you want to keep your helmet on?” you continue, dancing around this topic delicately. Taking off his helmet and showing you his face is a relatively new thing for the two of you. Not only it is a huge sign of the trust he has for you, but it’s also opening him to a world of insecurities. Under all of the beskar, he’s confident, never having to worry about what he actually looks like. But when he showed you his face many rotations ago, a nagging voice became a fixture in the back of his mind, telling him “She hates the way you look. This was a mistake. And you’re stupid for ever thinking this would go well,” despite all the love and words of affirmation you gave him. It breaks your heart knowing he feels that way about himself.

“Last night when were, uh, doing it, I caught a glimpse of what I look like, in the mirror.”

“I see,” you say, glancing at the mirror hung on the wall beside the bed.

“And I just think the faces I make are… stupid? I don’t know. It’s silly.”

“It’s not silly, Din. Everyone worries about that kind of stuff.”

“I’ve never had to before.”

You rack your brain for ways to help him out of this. He deserves to have sex without his helmet off. He deserves to be completely encapsulated in your scent or to feel your lips against his. And selfishly, you want him to keep it off, of course. There has to be some sort of solution, a temporary fix.

And then it dawns on you; a blindfold.

“I have an idea,” you say, moving off the bed and walking to a chair in the corner of the room, where Din’s medic kit is sitting. You rifle through the medic kit and pull out a white piece of fabric, one Din would use for dressing a wound.

You return to the side of the bed where he’s sitting, lifting the helmet slowly off his head and setting it on the nightstand.

“What about a blindfold?” you say, holding the fabric in front of his face.

“A blindfold? Why?”

“Half of your face will be covered,” you shrug, “And you won’t have to look at yourself in the mirror.”

“Oh, okay,” he says.

You take off the remaining layers of your clothes while he slips out of his flight suit, cock springing free from the fabric. He sits back down on the bed and you wrap the blindfold around his face, tying it at the back of his head.

“But now I don’t get to see you,” he says, almost complaining.

“Yes but…” you start, bringing your head beside his ear, “Your other senses are heightened,” you whisper, sending a shiver down his spine.

“Kriff,” he curses under his breath.

You sink to the floor, running your lips along his groin, and feeling the goosebumps on his skin beneath your fingertips. He shudders as you get closer and closer to his cock, only to pull away once he’s holding his breath and expecting you to take him in your mouth.

“Cyar’ika, please. Don’t tease me,” he whines, aching for your mouth around his cock already.

“Fine. Fine. I won’t,” you giggle, kissing his groin and moving closer to his cock again. You wrap your hand around the base and slip your tongue between his head and his foreskin, still teasing him a little. He groans some more, his hands finding each side of your face and caressing it lightly. And just when he’s about to beg again, you take him in your mouth as far as he can go, stroking the part you can’t fit. His hands move to the back of your head as you suck him off, head bobbing up and down and your tongue flat against the underside of his cock.

“Kriff, cyar’ika,” he curses again, “You take care of me so well.”

You hum in response, sending a vibration down his shaft. He shudders again, head thrown back in pleasure while your other hand inches closer to his balls. And once you cup them he’s about to lose it, shaky breaths working up to full-blown panting.

“Cyar’ika, I’m gonna cum if you don’t stop,” he pants, voice dripping with arousal and pleasure.

You hum in response again, as if you’re telling him that you want this, that you want to make him cum. Your tongue returns to the head of his cock, swirling around the tip and in between his foreskin, while your hand continues to stroke his length. You feel his balls tense up in your hand and almost immediately after, he’s coming down your throat, moaning out a string of curse words in Mando’a you don’t quite catch. You swallow his release, stroking him through his orgasm before taking him out of your mouth and rising from the floor.

“You’re amazing,” he says, voice still breathless and coming down from his high.

“I’m not quite done with you,” you chuckle, pushing his shoulders lightly so he’s lying down on the bed. His cock is still hard and glistening from just being in your mouth.

“You’re not?”

“Nope,” you giggle, moving to straddle him. You sink down onto his cock, feeling him stretch out your walls as you take all of him. But instead of staying upright with your hands flat against his chest, you lean forward, placing your head beside his ear again while grinding against him.

“Ni kar'tayli gar darasuum,” you whisper. Although you couldn’t understand the curse words he used earlier, you made sure to learn how to say I love you and a few other things with the help of your data-pad.

All he can do is moan in response as your cunt envelopes his cock and your hips grind against him. So you take his earlobe in between your teeth and tug on it lightly before whispering again.

“Yooba solus mesh'la,” you tell him, wanting him to feel all the love and admiration you hold for him, wanting him to know that he’s desired.

He whispers back that he loves you, too, his voice jumping an octave as you cum around his cock. You take his earlobe in between your teeth again while you ride out your high, feeling the pleasure originate from your core and spread outwards. Your orgasm triggers his own and soon enough he’s coming inside you, cock pressed up against your cervix. The movement of your hips eventually slows to a halt and you’re left there just resting against him with his cock still inside you.

You poke your head up and untie the blindfold around his head, looking deep into his eyes with a smile on your face.

“Did you like that? The blindfold?” you ask.

“I did… Maybe we can do that more often?” he asks, his words delicate like he’s afraid of your response.

“Of course,” you say, leaning down and pressing a kiss against his lips.

He kisses you back, needy and passionate, but only because he knows that out of all the people in the galaxy, you’re the only one who will ever see him like this.

“Thanks for being patient with me,” he says softly.

“Anything for you,” you whisper back.

Banners/dividers by @saradika-graphics

Gif credit unknown, please let me know if this is your gif or someone you know!

#din djarin x reader #din djarin smut #din djarin one shot #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin x you #din djarin x f!reader #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian #star wars smut #star wars fanfiction #starwarsficnetwork #pedrostories

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murdrdocs · 5 months

Note

hi love, could i please request a mike fic where he comforts his s/o after a failed exam? just happened to me w my pharmacology exam and im super stressed/sad about it :((

i love your fics & looking for some comfort as i sob into my pillow tbh :,)

-🪐

yes ofc ! im not much comfort when it comes to school and stuff (im a school hter) so hopefully a little ficlet will help :)

mike waits by the phone for your call.

he taps his short and dirty nails against the glass table, picking at his cuticles and hang nails to give him something to do with his hands. he itches to pick up the phone and dial your number, but he wants to give you space and time. patience. he's been practicing it lately.

in the meantime, he ogles at his rough hands, a reminder of how busy you'd been lately. your usual nail day with abby, and recently mike as well, had gone by untouched. leaving abby with chipped polish, and mike with undesirable hands, even though he never minded his nail care before you became a regular fixture in his life.

but he'd been patient, watching –– and sometimes just knowing, having not seen you for a while –– you study. watching you work yourself tirelessly over textbooks and scribbled notes. feeding you bites of food while he went through flashcards with you. waking up cold in the mornings when you left earlier than anticipated to get an early start on studying.

and today is the day. well, today was the day. but hours have passed and your exam surely was completed by now and mike hasn't heard from you. it's a sure sign of how it went, but he refuses to come to a conclusion until he hears your voice.

it's not a moment later until he gets his wish.

the phone rings and the second ring is interrupted by mike pulling the receiver up to his ear. "hello?"

it takes you a second to speak, but once you do, mike's face falls. "hey." your greeting is simple, but he hears the misery in the rasp of your voice.

"oh, baby." he doesn't say anything else, and neither do you. instead, mike reads the clock, 6:26 PM, and he looks into the living room to see abby staring at the TV.

"can we come over?"

it's just a little over an hour later and mike is knocking on your front door with abby behind him. he holds two mcdonalds bags, both soaked with grease on the bottom, in his freehand, and behind him, abby has the drink container.

"don't drop it," mike reminds her, sparing a glance over his shoulder as he waits for you to open the door.

"i won't." she grumbles through a determined frown, but her face brightens as the door swings open. abby squeals your name, and mike turns around, a small smile on his face because he'd missed you, too.

there you are in front of him, face a little puffy and eyes a little red, but you smile down at his little sister anyway.

"abby! it's so good to see you." abby thrusts the drinks out towards you, mentioning the mcflurry that sits in the fourth spot with a wide grin. you gasp, "for me?" and abby nods.

abby walks into your house like it's hers, and you don't protest, instead hovering at the door faced with mike. he doesn't mention the exam, he doesn't mention your appearance. instead he pulls you into his chest with one hand, holding the fast food bags out to the side with the other, and presses a kiss into the side of your head.

"it's good to see you," he tells you, voice nothing but earnest.

you hum and mike feels you take a deep breath, as if you're finally relaxing. he expects you to repeat his sentiment, but he's not upset when you don't.

the three of you end up sitting on your living room floor rewatching 'good burger' for at least the tenth time. at this point, abby says the infamous line, doing so cheerfully to the point where you and mike feel weird if you don't do the same.

mike shares his fries with you when you run out, you pretend to not want to share your mcflurry but you end up doing so anyway. all three of you break out into a fit of giggles when mike takes his first sip of coke and chokes with the unexpected strength of it, and more giggles ensue when abby naively does the same.

by the end of the movie, you're full from carbs and sugar and you're cuddled into mike's side, both of your backs against the couch that abby lies asleep on. the credits start to roll when you speak, voice creaky and leaking pure sadness.

"i failed the exam."

it's silent. too silent. your eyes start to water and your throat constricts and suddenly you want to run into your bedroom and shut the door. but you don't. you stay seated, staring at the black screen as the white text starts to blur.

and when mike pulls you closer into his side, it's almost impossible for you to hold the tears back. so you don't.

mike coaxes them out by rubbing along your back, soothing circles up and down your worn in crewneck. you make a mess of his own sweatshirt, snot and tears mixing into a massive wet spot just below the hood at the shoulder.

he doesn't mind one bit, never ceasing his movements even whenever you start to calm down. abby has woken up at this point, and her little voice above you almost startles you.

"is everything okay?" words small, almost timid as if she's afraid of upsetting you more.

mike's chest rumbles. "everything's okay, abs." and then to you, "it's okay."

#mschmidtsworld!#mike schmidt #mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt x you #mike schmidt fluff #celeste writes fnaf #–𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍 🪐

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lvis44 · 11 months

Text

Sweet Escape - Prologue // LH44

Lewis Hamilton x Y/N - focusing more on a friend group in this section

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol, slight jealousy? , age gap-ish (being friends with older people), possible language, not edited

Word Count: 1.2k+

Summary: A little backstory on how you found the friends you now consider family, all leading up to the group trip Lewis has planned and an unpleasant surprise that may come with it.

Notes: This is a prologue to a short series I have been planning. This part was written in a bit of a rush and ended up being longer than I had planned. It's not wonderfully written, the next parts will be much better. Part 1 of the story should be up later today and can be read without reading the prologue, this is just some backstory and context. I am not a professional writer and all of this is a work of fiction and is strictly for fun. Enjoy!

Two years ago you stumbled into a group of tight knit friends, people you are now lucky enough to call family. You had just moved to a new city where you didn’t know a soul, yet somehow you were lucky enough to meet Charlotte. You met through work and she quickly took you under her wing. She introduced you to colleagues, brought you to lunch for work gossip, but most importantly knew when work had been tough. Those days she would show up at your apartment, usually unannounced, carrying a bottle of wine and junk food. She was like the older sister you never had. When she told you she wanted to introduce you to her other friends, you were incredibly nervous. You knew they were all older than you and if they were anything like Charlotte, they were very well off. You tried to explain that you didn’t want to intrude and that you really wouldn’t fit in. She was persistent and you truly couldn’t let her down, so you finally conceded. The shock you had felt when you finally met everyone was astronomical, multiple faces that you recognized, from models to professional athletes, nothing that Charlotte had ever mentioned. The one that had you the most starstruck though was Lewis Hamilton. You’d grown up watching him race, yet there he was, sprawled across Charlotte's sofa with a drink in his hand and a kind smile on his face. You had only been allowed to sit in your shock for mere moments before they were all warmly welcoming you, peppering you with questions and joking around as if they’d known you for years. They managed to not once make you feel out of place, despite the fact that they were all older than you and had been friends for nearly ten years. It had been a natural progression; them inviting you out to clubs, over for dinner or game nights, getting added to group chats. You became a fixture, part of the family.

At the beginning of the year, Lewis asked everyone to go on vacation while he was off for summer break. It wasn’t really a question, when Lewis was available, everyone dropped everything to see him. He was a rarity, sure he always kept in touch, but text messages and facetimes were nothing comparable to actually having him around. He made all the arrangements and informed everyone of the plans before you had even had time to agree. It was never lost on you that all of your friends were extremely wealthy, vacations like this were nothing foreign to them, but you never wanted to feel like a burden. Being considered a gold digger was the last thing you ever wanted. You didn’t know how you were going to pull it off but you knew you had to, you hadn’t seen him in more than two months now. While you tried to figure out how to scrape together the funds, you texted him and asked what you owe, bracing yourself for the number. His response had been simple and sweet, “Are you crazy? All I want is your company, miss ya :)”.

You had grown shockingly close with Lewis over the short period of time you’d known him. The night you met everyone you had found yourself alone with him, making drinks for everyone. Despite having calmed down, being in his sole presence had brought back all of your nerves, and he could definitely tell. You had ended up blurting out that you were a big fan, gushing like a maniac about his career. He had been kind, just chuckling as you rambled. When you realized what you’d done you quickly switched to apologizing, embarrassing yourself even further. He had laughed it off, shrugging before saying “It’s good to know I have somebody to talk to about racing.” He had asked for your number that night, saying he needed it to bore you with technical talk after races, and he did just that, not that it ever bored you. Every time you saw him you were greeted with a big hug before he asked for the rundown on everything that had been going on in your life. He was always protective of you when you all went out, keeping an eye on you from a distance while you danced in clubs, making sure no one ever tried anything. There had been a few times that you found yourself in the passenger seat of his car, giggly from the alcohol you consumed with your friends, he never let you take an uber, insisting it was far too dangerous for a young drunk girl late at night. He usually stayed relatively sober during the season, only having a drink or two all night, and never drinking during race weekends. He would carry you to bed, despite the fact that you could walk perfectly fine. Each time you fell asleep with a kiss on your forehead and woke with a bottle of water and a packet of aspirin next to your bed. He’s definitely a flirt, you noticed it the moment you met him, but you couldn’t tell if there was anything behind it. It always frustrated you and it never helped the crush that felt to be constantly growing. He’s an attractive man, painfully attractive at that. There have been more than a few times that you have all been hanging out around his pool, where you can’t help but watch the way the muscles of his back ripple under his skin. The main problem though, was he always seemed to have some sort of entertainment. You had met many models over the time you’d known him, all the definition of beautiful, but they only tended to last a few weeks at most. It was rare you would meet someone more than once or twice. You assumed he would have someone with him on this trip, he usually did.

Your suspicions were confirmed just a few days before the trip, he had sent out a full itinerary, including a guest list. There, amongst your list of friends, was an outlier, shockingly it was a name you recognized, a rare repeat for him. You couldn’t help but feel a little nervous, the last time you had met her she seemed to dislike you very much, and she hadn’t made it particularly subtle. You had been the recipient of many a poisonous stare, scoffs of disapproval when you talked about work, but more importantly nasty glares anytime you had the attention of Lewis. Unfortunately there was nothing you could do about it, you had never told him how she had treated you, mostly because you thought you would never see her again. You were in no place to tell him now, you felt it would be rude seeing as you were going on this trip on his dime. The only person that knew what she had been like was Charlotte, who immediately texted you making sure you were okay. You assured her it would be fine and to not bring it up, you were planning on ignoring the girl as much as possible and enjoying some quality time with your friends. You couldn’t help but snort when Charlotte tried to assure you the girl probably wouldn’t even last the whole week.

Everything would be fine.

#lewis hamilton #sir lewis hamilton #lewis hamilton fanfic #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton imagine #lewis hamilton blurb #team lh44 #lh44 #lh #lvis44 #formula one #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 drivers #driver x reader

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sweetlittlegingy · 1 year

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I Never Saw You Coming And I'll Never Be The Same

✦Previous Chapter | Next Chapter | Better Man Universe

✦Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Single!Mother, Jake "Hangman" Seresin!father x son relationship

✦Word Count: 3.1K

✦Warnings: So much fluff, sick day, dad!Jake, sick reader and child, protective!Jake,

✦A/n: I just wrote this today, I had no plans and it just happened. My Maty is sick and we spent most of the day cuddling, this is what it produced.

✦Library (Follow for updates! I no longer have a taglist.)

The chatter around the locker room revolving around the Friday night plan at the Hard Deck falls to silent ears, as Jake checks his phone for what felt like the millionth time. You hadn’t messaged him all day and his worries were eating away at him. It wasn’t that he needed you to text him all the time, though last night you had mentioned Maty not feeling the best and now without a word from you his mind seems to be spiraling.

Rooster shrugs the worn Hawaiian shirt over his shoulder, though Jake’s worried expression catches Rooster’s attention immediately. A nudge to the shoulder pulls Jake’s attention from his phone, long enough for Rooster to ask what gives.

“Just worried about Y/n, gonna go over to the office and check on her.” The words are muttered as Jake’s eyes focus back on his phone.

“Was over there this morning, Cyclone said she called in sick.” Rooster's tone is light, though Jake can’t help but worry. You and Jake had been officially together since November and Jake couldn’t be happier with the fact that you and Mathew were permanent fixtures in his life.

While you still had a hard time letting Jake help you; you were still worried that at any moment Jake may decide that you weren’t the hassle. Which led to you avoiding him when the smallest inconvenience uprooted your life.

Said inconvenience now manifesting through Maty, and possibly you, being sick. With a nod of thanks to Rooster, Jake slips his jacket on before leaving the locker room while dialing his mother’s number.

Jake pulls up to your small house and it almost looks like no one is home, though the single flicking light of the living room tv gives you away. It took Jake longer than he intended, but with his mother's advice, Jake made it to the nearest pharmacy and collected every children’s cough, cold, and fever medicine a four-year-old could have. As well as, a few different cold medicines for adults and at his mother’s behest a new fuzzy blanket for you, and the new toy story movie for Maty. Jake grabs the shopping bag from the backseat, before trudging up the steps and gently knocking on your door. It takes a moment, but eventually, he can hear you moving around behind the door.

...

You hadn’t planned for anyone to come over tonight, Penny had brought over a soup your mother made during lunch, and more than anything you wanted to crawl into bed for the night. Though a restful night’s sleep was far beyond what you would be getting tonight, and possibly the next couple nights. Mathew had a horrible time with his lungs when he got sick, after getting croup when he was only one, it became a regular occurrence in your life. Though this time felt like it was even worse, the nebulizer was barely helping and every time you got his fever down, a new coughing fit would ensue.

Not only had Maty been sick, but in the past few hours you could slowly start to feel your body drain. It had started out as a slightly sore throat you noticed last night while doing steam rounds in the shower with Maty. Now along with the sore throat, came a chest-wrenching cough and a terrible migraine.

You slowly shuffle to the door, feet clad in a pair of fuzzy socks that Jake had gotten you for Christmas, as well as one of Jake’s hoodies that dwarfed your frame. Your porch light is blinding when you open the door and the sudden rays of light have you wincing.

“Oh, Sweetheart.”

Your eyes find Jake’s and you try your best to give him a smile, though it's near impossible. A small whine from the couch has you turning away from Jake and leaving the door open in a silent request to come inside.

Mathew moves on the couch, as he wraps the blanket tighter around himself, and looks around the room for you. You hated seeing him like this, your baby was usually so independent and happy. But when he was sick, it was like he was a whole different child. His eyes find yours, before flittering behind you to Jake causing the tiniest small to cross his lips.

“Jakey.”

“Hey, Bubba.”

Jake’s voice is quiet and the only other noise in the room comes from the forgotten tv. You turn back around as Jake slips off his shoes, and you hear the sound of a few bags being sat on the floor. You blame the slight delirium of not seeing them on the pounding in your head, but at the sight of them now your heart aches.

“Baby, what are you doing here?” You try to sound happy, though your voice sounds overly tired and the small yawn that falls from your lips makes it even more apparent.

“I hadn’t heard from you today and when Rooster told me you called in sick, I got worried.”

A smile crosses your face and the small thank you that falls from your lips has Jake reaching out and wrapping his arms around you.

“I’m gonna get you sick, Jake.” You shuffle in his arms trying to pull away, though his hold on you tightens as he places a kiss on the crown of your head.

“I don’t care, nothing was going to keep me away from my two favorite people.” You pull back from his hold, and you see nothing but unfiltered love.

The sound of Mathew having a coughing fit pulls your attention from Jake, who is already moving to wrap his arms around your miniature self. Mathew welcomes Jake’s hold and is more than happy to bury his face in Jake’s neck. Jake doesn’t falter while his hand rubs Mathew's back, as Maty cough’s harshly into his shoulder.

The sight of them tugs on your heart and you can’t help the way you snuggle up to Jake causing him to wrap his free arm around you. The three of you stay in the position as Mathew’s cough finally settles and you tug the sleeves of Jake’s hoodie to cover your hands.

“My chest hurts, momma.”

Your eyes open as you pull back from being buried in Jake’s side to find your overly tired and sore four-year-old. Jake’s hand rakes through Mathew’s hair, as his green eyes flutter between you and Jake. Your hand rises to check Mathew's forehead and the small increase in temperature has you looking at the clock to see if you can give him another dose of medicine.

“Baby, momma’s going to get some medicine for your head and then I think we need to do another round in the shower.” The tiniest whine confirms that he heard you and Jake places another kiss on the crown of your head before settling on the couch, rocking Mathew gently from side to side.

The quiet whisper of your voice letting out a small shit, has Jake looking toward the kitchen where you disappeared. Your figure reappears and you can’t stop the tears from forming in your eyes. You were overly tired and didn’t feel good, and now the realization that you had run out of children’s Tylenol has them falling from your waterline.

“Sweets, what’s wrong baby?”

The gentle tone of Jake’s voice causes a shuttered breath as another sob falls from you. He didn’t need to be here, you weren’t his problem, you were a grown woman and yet a small bottle of liquid Tylenol had you in tears.

“I’m out of Tylenol and have to get some, but you shouldn’t be here taking care of us on a Friday night.” Another sob falls from your lips and has Jake rising again after he sits Mathew down on the couch, his blanket draped over his small frame.

Jake’s arms wrap around you and tuck you in, just like he had done to Mathew moments ago.

“Sweets, with you is the only place I ever want to be. You became my number one priority the moment you told me off in Cyclone’s office, while you drowned in paperwork.”

A smile tugs at your lips and you place a small kiss against Jake’s chest.

“Plus, I already went to the store and picked up everything we could need.”

His cocky tone has you pulling away in question, and the smile on his lips makes your stomach flip. Your eyebrow raises in question, though before you can even question him, he answers. “I wasn’t exactly sure what you would need,” his free hand scratches at the back of his neck, and before your eyes, you see a rare sight. Jacob Grant Seresin is blushing in embarrassment. “Well, I called my mom. I didn’t know what to get and figured that she was the best person to ask, plus I didn’t want to get the wrong stuff. She walked me through everything, and I made sure to check the age requirements for Maty. He is safe to take everything I g–”

“Thank you.” Your words cut off his rambling and cause him to lean into the hand you place against his cheek.

...

You sort through the bag of medication and the number of different kinds has a smile crossing your lips. After Jake had given you the bag to sort through, Maty was more than ready to be wrapped back up in his arms and instantly wrapped his arms around Jake’s neck when he picked the small boy up.

You stop in the hallway as you come back from the kitchen and though you’ve seen the pair be loving in main ways, the two of them wrapped in a blanket as Jake whispers in Mathew’s ear may be your favorite sight.

“Hey, sweetpea,” Your voice and hand against Mathew’s back has him stirring, pulling away from Jake’s neck as his eyes droop low. “You gotta take this, my love. Then we can get in the shower, and clear up your chest a little more.”

A small nod is the only reaction you get, before placing the small cup on Mathew’s lips and tipping it back. Your reach out to take him from Jake, though he is quick to grasp onto Jake, intertwining his fingers as he huddles farther into Jake’s chest.

“Baby, we need to get you in the shower.”

His small voice is muffled against Jake’s neck, though you can make out the quiet plea to stay with Jake. Your hand rubs up and down Mathew’s back, as you look back at Jake’s face unsure of what to do. Mathew needed to get in the shower, but you also knew that if he cried, his cough and chest would worsen more than it already was.

“What if we get in the shower together bub, while momma rests for a minute?” Mathew gives a small nod, while still remaining tucked away. Jake sees the questioning look on your face and smiles slightly.

“You’ve still got a pair of my swim trunks tucked away. Right, Sweets?”

It’s like a light bulb goes off in your head, “Yes, from Labor Day weekend!” and has you heading down to your bedroom in search of them. They’re stacked under the pair of sweatpants and tee shirt that Jake left here for when he stayed over.

You turn to head back out to the living room, though instead find Jake and Mathew in his room picking out a pair of swim trunks as well. Mathew is still latched onto Jake’s neck, while he riffles through the blue and white dresser. You don’t hear the conversation the pair is having, though the sight of Maty whispering in Jake’s ear pulls on your heart.

“I found them.”

Your voice causes them to turn, and Jake holds up a pair of swim shorts in a different shade of blue. Jake gives you a smile, before sitting Mathew on his bed and turning to you.

“Bubba, you let momma help you get ready and I’m going to change in her room, but I’ll be right back. Okay?”

A small hum leaves Mathew’s lips and gives Jake enough confidence that the four-year-old isn’t going to have a breakdown from him disappearing. You give Jake a small smile as you trade shorts, though he stops you in the doorway. Your tired eyes lift to meet Jake’s stare as one of his hands settles on your waist and the other comes to rest on your cheek.

“You’re doing an amazing job momma.” The comment has you sighing and your head falling forward to rest on Jake’s chest. You knew that you were a good mom, Mathew was your whole world, but hearing it from someone else filled a gaping hole in your chest. Especially given the fact that it felt like your whole world was crumbling around you. You hated seeing Mathew sick, but the fact that you were sick as well and that you weren’t working at 100% to take care of him, ate away at you.

“I love you.” You whisper the words, before placing a kiss on Jake’s chest.

The hand resting on the back of your head comes around to grasp your face once again, tilting you to look up at him.

“I love you.” Before you can even protest that you’re sick and shouldn’t be kissing, Jake’s mouth descends upon yours. His lips feel like home, and you take the moment to savor the kiss. It wasn’t as if 10 seconds longer would change the fact that Jake was now most likely going to get sick. You pull away from the kiss, though the warning look Jake gives you, has the reprimanding words slipping from your mind, and instead wrap your arms around his waist once again.

“I love you both, so much Sweets.” A second kiss is placed at the crown of your head before Jake slips from your hold to go change.

Mathew gives you a small smile from his bed that has you going over and giving him a hug and kiss. Maty was usually so independent that you rarely got the chance to baby him anymore, though now you miss the spunky boy. You slowly help him remove his jammies, before slipping into his swim trunks and picking him up to go find Jake.

Mathew tucks his face into your neck as you leave his room, and you automatically place a gentle kiss on his head.

“Love you, momma.”

“I love you too, my sweet boy.”

You find Jake leaving your room at the same time you leave Mathew’s, and he is quick to take Maty from your hold. Reminding you that you are in fact sick as well, and don’t need to add to the strain your body is already under from the virus.

With a flick of your wrist, the shower starts, and the small room instantly starts to fill with steam. You flick a few drops of peppermint oil into the shower to help open up Mathew's chest. Turning around you find Jake, with Mathew on the counter, while gently rubbing his back. Mathew’s eyes remain closed as he leans against Jake, only opening slightly when Jake bends down to ask him if he was ready to get in.

They slide the glass door open and step through to sit on the bench seat, though before you can close the door Jake catches your arm and gives it a gentle tug to get your attention.

“I’ve got him now, Sweets. I want you to go lay down, you don’t have to sleep, but your body needs the rest.”

“M’kay.” The word is slightly slurred and, at the moment realize just how tired your body was. You give him a small nod and tell both of them you love them, before sliding the glass door shut and go to leave the bathroom.

You pause at the door and listen to the pair. The water had woken Mathew up and given him a small bout of energy.

“How much do we love momma?”

You can’t see Mathew's reaction though you’re sure it’s one with his arms spread wide open. Jake’s teasing tone, “Hole bunch?!” followed by a tiny giggle confirms it. You go to leave though; the sound of Mathew’s small voice causes you to halt again.

“You love momma, Jakey.” You can tell it’s not a question. “Do you love me too?”

His voice is so raw from coughing, though you can hear a definite tone of unsureness. The room is quiet for a moment, the only sound being the water hitting off the white tile.

“I love you so much, Bubba.”

You hear the crack in Jake’s voice, and you know that he is tearing up silently. Jake wasn’t someone that showed people his emotions, though with you and Mathew, inside these four walls Jake never held anything back. He didn’t need to, not when he knew that you loved him just as much as he loved Mathew and you.

“You will always have me, Maty. No matter what happens, I will always love and protect you.”

You have to step out of the bathroom, before Jake finishes, not wanting to worry either of them by hearing you cry. You didn’t know how you had gotten so lucky with Jake, how he had decided that you were worthy of a love that ran so deep, that it felt like you had known each other for your whole lives. The type of love that proved time and time again, that Jake would always love and protect your baby like he was his own.

The tears gathering on your waterline fall as you lay down on your bed. As you let your body sink father into the comfortable mattress, and sheets that still smelled like Jake.

...

You shift of the bed, has your eyes opening abruptly, and moving to get up. Though Jake’s hand on you causes you to lay back down and shift around to face him. Mathew's small body lies between the two of you, as small snores emit from him, and he curls farther into Jake’s chest.

“I didn’t mean to fall asleep. Thank you for taking care of him.”

Your words are weighted and tired as your eyes flutter to stay open. Jake slides closer to you, settling Mathew farther on his bare chest as the small boy rolls farther into him while grasping his blanket. Jake pulls you toward him as well and you settle on the arm that Mathew lays halfway on. Jake’s other hand comes around to settle on your waist, incasing the both of you in his hold.

“Sweets, don’t you ever thank me for taking care of him.”

You cuddle farther into Jake and slowly fall farther back into the restful slumber. Jake silently lies listening to your even breathing, which evens out to match Maty’s. He shifts gently, pulling the pair of you closer before placing a kiss on the top of each of your heads.

“Always gonna take care of you, Sweets. My baby boy and his perfect momma.”

#better man universe #gingy writes #jake seresin #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin x you #jake seresin fluff #jake hangman seresin #jake seresin x y/n #jake seresin fic #top gun maverick #top gun #top gun fluff #top gun au #tgm fic #tgm #tgm imagine

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not-a-mimic · 3 months

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why is it an important point that alan is very light sensitive and prone to migranes? other than being a disability rep for those of us who cannot function in broad daylight without sunglasses and explaining why the bright lights in aw1 are such a pain to look at (from alan's point of view) but like. it's important.

we see it in the flashback with alice where alan is hangover and seemingly has his sunglasses next to his bed already - a little weird right? and alice mentions them as well - because this is common. because he often needs them. frankly speaking from experience you don't get to the point where the sunglasses become a mandatory bedside fixture unless it's a really bad day often - which must be the case here. we also see then in 'herald of darkness' where "Dark shades could never save the day" and we see alan in shades. it's common for him. he does it often. mood! anyway mr champion of light being sensitive to light is just a funny coincidence right? wrong.

I also suspect that alan's tendency towards full outfits is also a part of this. no sane human wears that many layers in september, and alan specifically covers pretty much all the skin possible without looking weird. also a lot of his article shots in rose'.... shrine have sunglasses and thick layers as well. this man is SENSITIVE sensitive to light and that's a coincidence I can't ignore in the remedy!verse.

alan was born (as stated in aw2) in 1977 - we don't know when, or where as he moved to new york later. his mother spent most of his childhood in psychiatric facilities, and his father is not only non existent but highly suspiously fictional (the only object we are told alan has of him is the clicker. the fucking clicker. tom zane's clicker that was definitely written into alan's life before he was born and was not a gift from his father proper. frankly we know the least about alan's childhood compared to all other remedy!verse protags - not knowing where or truly when he was born is important because it leaves options.

Light sensitive could be a coincidence - but we thought that about the nightmares too, and they turned out to be important clues. and hell- *Scratch* is less sensitive to light than Alan is - only flashbangs and the super steong hand flares make him flinch, direct light seems fine unless super powered and normal flares are nothing. alan actively gets headaches from these things and obviously it hurts him. wtf is up with that? when the protection of the dark presence patches up your weakness you have a issue.

theory time:

we know alan is tied to this god damn lake. zane wrote it so - at very least alan was destined to fall in it at the end of aw1. but what if there is more? we also know that alan's darkness became at least the aw2 dark presence which. fine? an endless cycle of destroying yourself while under the impression that that's not yourself. we don't know if the dark presence in aw1 is also this same one, and if it isn't we now know there can be multiple dark entites (implied by Mr Scratch also). if it is then damn alan has issues.

I don't know if its just me but the fact that the small darkness within someone can be escalated out to being the whole larger dark presence at full power feels... off. that feels like it doesn't work with what we know of the entities- unless there was more darkness in alan then originally suspected fueling this presence. the strength of the dark presence born from him combined with the strength of his light sensitivity makes me very suspicious to how human he was originally, and how much of alan is just lake bullshit. if he was a creature or creation of the darkness forced into a human body (perhaps the 1976 awe the andersons fought back in brightfalls wasn't all it seemed. maybe the dark presence or something else was looking for a crack to escape through. maybe it succeeded, but was reborn as a human who was already showing signs at a young age of being light sensitive and also being a parautiltiarian, and a strong one at that.

maybe there was never a father because there was never a mother - linda wake may have found a child on the lake shore and adopted it as her own, not knowing the truth behind its origins. maybe the torchbearers who operated in brightfalls around that time were involved. maybe the reason alan and tom look identical is the dark entity needed human dna when being reborn as a human and zane was there at the right time. could be why other traits are shared, and zane foresaw and influenced the creation of the dark place to get what he wanted (after all it was borrowing from him his face and personality - at very least it could give him wiggle room to escape?)

alan always had... issues. darkness. a lot for a man. so what if its all supernatural bullshit? no one is looking too closely because there is supernatural stuff going on. I'm not sure this man is human, or at least his soul isn't and never was. some darkness wearing a human skin maybe, sensitive to the light but forced to manage it. I don't know, maybe I'm looking too much into this.

#im sorry something is fucking up with how alan was born and i refuse it ignore it any longer #alan wake #alan wake 2 #remedy games #remedy connected universe #theories #aw theory

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laurenairay · 2 months

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every breath, every hour has come to this - S. Jarvis

Summary: Seth Jarvis was your best friend, your rock, your protector…but could he ever be anything more?

This is my entry for @callsign-denmark’s Luck of the Puck fic exchange! I’ve written a Seth Jarvis story for @mp0625, and I really hope you like this – it’s my first time writing for him and I had a lot of fun with it! Thanks for providing some really great prompts for me to work with.

Words: 2.5k

Warnings: some bad language, hurt/comfort, alcohol, terrible date, I fudged the Canes’ game schedule.

Title from: A thousand years, Christina Perri

For as long as you could remember, Seth had always been in your life. Two peas in a pod, two goofy little kids, always attached at the hip. Even as hockey became more and more of a fixture in his life, you were right there in the stands, cheering him on at the top of your lungs as his biggest fan. You were his staunchest supporter, always giving him reassurance when his self-confidence cracked or faltered. He was your loyal protector, pushing away anyone that was ever mean to you, including shitty boyfriends. Everyone knew in your small suburb in Winnipeg that where one of you went, the other was sure to follow.

So it was exactly no surprise to your parents (and his) when you followed him down to Raleigh the moment his entry level contract was signed.

You didn’t know what you would do without his energetic personality lighting up your day, the ultimate hype-man even before dates that both of you knew weren’t going to end well, or his sweet smiles in a terrible morning after a fantastic night out with his team. You didn’t know what you would do without his built arms wrapped around you on the sofa while you watched awful reality tv or cheesy movies, broad shoulders perfectly places to rest your head on, and especially waking up after a shared nap together, cementing his self-proclaimed King of Naps title.

Or seeing him wake up from a nap by himself, and his whole face lighting up when he saw you there too.

For as long as you could remember, you’d been in love with Seth, and there was nothing you could do about it. You’d seen the girls Seth went on dates with, and they were nothing like you. Even when the two of you were going on your first dates when you were barely teenagers, his ‘type’ seemed to be the complete opposite of you – so you’d always endeavoured to make sure the guys you dated were the opposite of him. It was the only way to preserve your heart, to keep your incredible friendship with Seth as wholesome and solid as you needed it to be, and not once had you ever messed that up.

Seth Jarvis was the best person in your life and you never wanted that to change. Not for anything. That didn’t mean that you didn’t know how hard your life was going to be when he eventually found his soulmate – but that was a problem for future you, and you refused to do anything but live in the moment.

Speaking of living in the moment…

“Hey Seth, do these shoes go with this dress?”

Living with your best friend really did have its perks – you could always guarantee an honest opinion on your outfit from him.

“Hmm, you can’t go wrong with a little black dress and nice black heels, but where is he taking you?”

“Does that matter?”

“Well yeah, you like those shoes and I know you don’t want them to get ruined by a sticky floor,” Seth pointed out.

He really did know you so well.

“He said he’s taking me out to dinner, but he didn’t tell me where or what the venue was like,” you admitted.

You ignored Seth rolling his eyes.

“The dress is gorgeous but I would change your shoes if you aren’t sure. Maybe those black ankle boots? Not too casual but not too fancy,” Seth suggested.

Incredible.

“You are amazing,” you grinned, jogging back to your room to kick your shoes off.

“And don’t you forget it!”

You just laughed at his shout across the apartment, pulling on the ankle boots he suggested. Just as you thought, he was right. With a swipe of lipgloss, you were ready, so you grabbed your leather jacket and headed back out of your room.

“Hey, sweetheart?”

“Yeah Seth?” you asked, spinning on your heel.

“Have fun tonight. You look amazing – don’t let him forget that,” Seth said seriously, making you laugh, “And if you need anything, anything at all, call me.”

“You’re going to be my knight in shining armour?” you teased.

“With a guy you don’t know taking you out for a first date on St Patrick’s Day? Absolutely,” Seth mused.

Well you couldn’t fault him there.

“Wish me luck!”

“Luck.”

If only you’d know just how right Seth would be.

“Seth?” you whimpered, hiccupping into your phone.

“Woah, hey, what’s wrong?”

“I know it’s only been three hours, but can you pick me up?” you pleaded.

“Of course, I’ll leave right now. Three hours or three minutes, it doesn’t matter. Send me your location pin, but stay on the line?”

You just sniffed, nodding even though you knew he couldn’t see you, doing as he asked.

“Okay, I have it. That’s a real shitty bar, sweetheart.”

You choked out a sob. He had no idea. “Real shitty date too.”

“What did he do?”

You could hear him running out of your shared apartment, down the stairs rather than waiting for the elevator, and your heart ached with how willingly he dropped his peaceful evening just to help you.

“He lied about taking me out to dinner. Instead he took me to a bar where a bunch of his friends were, and when I asked him why he lied he told me he wanted to celebrate St Patrick’s Day with his buddies and thought I could come along. Which, fine, okay, he thought I would get on with his friends, so I went along with it. Most of his friends were fine, welcoming even, but they were getting drunker and rowdier and I don’t mind that if I’m with people I know and trust like you or your friends, but with strangers? No way. And then he…”

You trailed off, groaning at the memory, Seth just cursing under his breath. You could hear him driving, not even caring for once that he was probably breaking the speed limit. You just wanted him here.

“What did he do?”

“He started getting handsy. Slapping my ass, pulling me into his body with an arm around my waist, all of that shit, making his friends laugh even though it was obvious I was uncomfortable. But then he grabbed at my boobs and-”

“He fucking what?”

Over all the years of Seth protecting you from nasty dates and boyfriends, you’d never heard him so angry. Never.

“He groped me, in front of everyone. But I shoved him away immediately, I swear!” you insisted.

“Hey, I believe you sweetheart. I know that stuff makes you uncomfortable. I swear I’m going to kill him, I’ll-”

“No, no, I don’t want you to get in trouble, okay? I left the bar already,” you said firmly.

“You left the bar? But your location says…”

“I’m outside the bar, still in eyesight of the bouncer just in case, but I’m outside. I walked out the bar because I couldn’t stand to be near him after him threw the remainder of his beer at me for rejecting him.”

“He fucking what?!”

Okay, that was the angriest you’d ever heard him.

“Told you he was a shitty date,” you mumbled, sniffing again as your eyes stung with tears once more.

“This is not your fault. He was an absolute asshole and none of this is on you.”

“Just my luck, right?” you said, huffing out a bitter laugh.

Seth just cursed under his breath again, continuing to mutter about how men were shit and you deserved better and all the things that usually would put such a smile on your face…but right now it just made you want to be home, safe with him, curled up in his arms. Nothing felt better than being with Seth and it was only because of the few drinks that you had that you allowed yourself to think like this. Thankfully, it couldn’t have been more than 10 minutes before you saw a familiar car screeching into the parking lot, and you finally felt like you could breathe.

He pulled to a stop only metres away from you, and you wasted no time in walking over to him, even as he got out of the car and slammed his door shut, jogging over to meet you halfway.

“Shit, sweetheart, look at you,” Seth scowled.

You groaned softly as he took in your blurred mascara and beer-soaked top, and grabbed his hand to break his attention.

“Can we just go? I want to get as far away from here as possible.”

You rested a hand on his chest, gently guiding him backwards towards his car, out of earshot of the bouncer and anyone else who deigned to leave, Seth’s fuming expression never leaving the dive bar you were walking away from.

“Is he still inside? Is that asshole still in there?” Seth demanded.

“Hey, no, come on, leave it. He’s not worth it,” you pleaded.

“He doesn’t get to treat you like that and get away with it. No-one gets to treat you like that, you hear me? No-one.”

Your breath hitched in your throat and your body thrummed with heat at his furious words, his eyes wild in a way you’d only ever seen on the ice. His fists were clenched, his nostrils were flared, and his shoulders were squared, all the while his cheeks flushing with anger as well. It was only the brief flash of desperation across his face that let you know he wasn’t mad at you – no, this was Seth’s protective side coming out in full force, dialled up to 1000.

“Seth, I…”

You trailed off, running a hand through your hair as you struggled to find words to defend yourself, relying in his car to lean against and keep you upright. He might not have been mad at you, but it still didn’t feel good to know that your situation was making him react like this.

“It’s not like I go out of my way to date assholes,” you eventually managed, “they just seem to find me.”

“Shit, sweetheart, I’m not accusing you of anything. I just…”

He cut himself off, seeming to need a moment to think, and you waited silently for him to give you something. Anything. Eventually he cleared his throat, the wildness in his eyes replaced by an anguish that made your heart ache.

“I can’t take it anymore. I just wish you’d see what you could have, right in front of you.”

What?

What was he talking about?

Right in front of you?

The more seconds the silence stretched on, the more your confused thoughts swirled and the more frustrated Seth looked, until he groaned in frustration.

“I’m talking about me,” he said through gritted teeth, looking like he wanted to be literally anywhere else.

Oh.

Oh shit.

“You?” you repeated, your voice cracking.

“Yeah and now I wish I’d never said a damn thing so can we please pretend that you’re really drunk instead of tipsy, and never talk about it again?” Seth muttered, avoiding your eyes.

As all of his words started to sink in, you found yourself shaking your head as decades-buried hope dared to surface.

“You’ve never said anything at all! You like me?” you said, needing him to say it again.

Seth huffed out a laugh, still not looking particularly comfortable.

“How could I say anything? I’m nothing like any of the guys you’ve ever dated,” he muttered.

“Because I purposely date guys that are nothing like you!” you shot back.

“What?”

You groaned as embarrassed heat filled your cheeks, turning your head away to give you a chance to save a scrap of dignity, but then Seth’s hand was cupping your face, gently turning you back to look at him properly. Never had he touched you like this, so delicately and with such purpose. His eyes were a storm, barely giving you anything to go on outside of the intensity, and it was all you could do to let out a shaky breath as he dropped his hand but stepped a little closer.

“I’m going to need you to give me a bit more than that, sweetheart,” Seth said, barely more than a murmur, edge of his voice a little rough, “What do you mean?”

“I purposely date guys that are nothing like you…because you’ve had my heart for longer than I care to remember. I never thought you could ever be interested in me because of the girls you date, and the thought of dating someone even a little bit similar to you was heartbreaking, so I just…went for the complete opposite. Clearly it’s been working out really well,” you said, choking off a bitter laugh as you finished.

Seth’s lips parted in surprise, and for once he was stunned into silence. It was only the fact that he hadn’t moved to step away that saved you from wanting to curl into a ball on the cold ground. Still, that didn’t stop the anguish from building inside of you like a volcano ready to erupt at the slightest provocation.

Eventually he let out a shaky breath, smiling weakly.

“We’ve wasted so much time,” he said softly, shaking his head.

What?

“We…have?” you asked, still in disbelief.

“We have.” Seth nodded, smiling at you in a way that encouraged you to finally smile back at him, giddy without being able to stop yourself, “You’re my goddamned soulmate, how could I ever want anyone but you? And knowing now that you’ve felt the same way all this time? It’s everything. I wish I could say I’ve been playing the long game but honestly I never thought you’d ever want me back. But we need to put a pin in this conversation until tomorrow.”

What? Why?

You didn’t know what was showing on your face but it made Seth laugh – a little deliriously, maybe, but a bright laugh that you were so used to all the same.

“You’ve been drinking, sweetheart. You’ve literally just ended a bad date covered in beer, as well as had quite an emotional night,” Seth explained.

“That still won’t change how I feel about you in the morning,” you pointed out.

His smile turned a little bashful, but definitely pleased, making the butterflies in your stomach riot.

“Then I look forward to hearing you say it again tomorrow. Just…let me take you home? Away from this gritty old bar parking lot?”

You nodded without hesitation, making him huff out a laugh again but take your hands.

“Take me home, Seth,” you murmured, squeezing his hands, barely able to believe the words coming out of your mouth.

With Seth’s wide grin, it looked like he could barely believe it either.

“We’re going to be amazing, you just wait.”

#my writing #seth jarvis fic #luck of the puck exchange #seth jarvis fanfic #seth jarvis imagine #carolina hurricanes fic #hockey fic #hockey imagine #hockey fanfic

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queenimmadolla · 1 year

Note

do you think we could maybe possibly 👉👈 see penny or wayne’s first christmas? 🥹

you got it, babe! lemme present to you, Penny's first Christmas :') ♡

𝐏𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞, 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐂𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐦𝐚𝐬

(dad!eddie munson x mom!reader) Summary: It's your daughter Penny's first Christmas, which means Eddie HAS TO sing to her. He has to.

Warnings: very brief sad eddie, but it’s okay because he has you and penny :)

a/n: this request is also inspired by @kitmon who beta'd this AND wrote their version which is an absolute gift this holiday season. read. it.

more dad!eddie and penny (plus baby Wayne) can be found here. 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Christmas in your life was always hit or miss. More so miss the older you got, though you didn’t like to talk about it much considering you were only 20 years old and way too young to be jaded. Still, you wanted to capture the same sort of contentment and comfort it brought you as a child for your own baby.

Eddie felt the same, having never really had an idealistic Christmas. Wayne had tried to make the holiday decent for him, but they both missed his mom so much, they usually just ordered a pizza and spent the day on the couch watching the few home videos they had. Two tapes.

He remembers his mom trying her hardest to make it good for him, can recall being given a present while they were cuddling in the backseat of her scrappy, near-broken down car, surrounded by blankets for warmth while his dad and his . . . supplies were strewn about their shack of a home. It’d been a cassette, a mixed volume of Christmas songs Eddie had developed a fixation with after hearing Christmas music play in the various department stores his mother took him to during the day for warmth, unwilling to expose him to whatever it was his father was cooking in their one room lodge.

She’d made sure he was snug in one of the blankets before she turned the car on and played the tape; they'd spent the rest of Christmas day singing along to it, over and over again. It had been the last Christmas he’d ever had with her.

While it was a memory he cherished, he was keen on never letting Penny experience Christmas, or any day, like that.

It was the reason why he hadn’t protested when you insisted on decorating the trailer with an almost sickening amount of red and green decorations. He’d never seen so much tinsel in his life. Actually, up until then he’d never encountered it before.

Penny was drawn to it, as she was any shiny thing, and often had to be dragged away when she tried to crawl as fast as she could to the Christmas tree so she could yank it off and shove it into her mouth, desperate to chew–as well as she could without any teeth actually fully out–on anything to soothe her gums from the pain of the teeth trying to break through. Eddie couldn’t wait until they’d come in and she wouldn’t be in pain anymore, nor shoving things in her mouth. The night the tree had gone up as well as the decorations, he’d spent more time than he’d care to admit crawling around the floor to make sure none of the hooks for the ornaments or any of the small light fixtures had dropped to the ground because now that he was a dad, every single thing he saw was a choking hazard for his baby girl.

And she loved to give him heart attacks.

Like right then, as she opened her mouth as wide as she could to try and stuff a bell that had fallen off one of the bows tied to your bedroom door knob, into her mouth. Eddie dropped Sweetheart, wincing as he heard the body of it make contact with the carpet, and darted over to where Penny had plopped herself, carefully pulling the bell out of her tiny, surprisingly strong and drooly grasp.

“Pretty one, that doesn’t go in your mouth,” he cooed, shoving the bell into his pocket before lifting her into his arms as she whimpered, head moving around to try and spy the object she’d been about to consume. When it became clear to her he’d taken it away, her plump lower lip jutted out and wobbled while her big brown eyes began to fill with water.

“Oh, no.” He frowned, mimicking her expression before he pressed a couple of kisses to her squishy cheek as her whimpering intensified, fat tears rolling down to meet his lips. “My poor baby, daddy hurt your feelings, didn’t he?”

Even though he was saving her freaking life, he still had to apologize.

“I’m sorry, honey. Why don’t we play with one of your other toys, instead?” Eddie readjusted his hold on her as her whimpering turned into cries, the forced hiccuping kind with her eyes squeezed shut to force out more tears in an effort to make him feel like the Worst Father™ in the world. Eddie sat down in front of the couch, a crying Penny perched on his lap as he reached for one of the few discarded toys she’d gotten bored of earlier. It was a green rattle, shaped like Kermit the frog’s head, one of Penny’s favorite toys since she seemed to be obsessed with the muppets, even at her young age. “Look, baby! It’s Kermit.” He shook the rattle a little ways from her face to gain her attention and like magic, her cries stopped, breath only hitching with her hiccups as she focused on the toy in his hand. Here came Eddie’s favorite part.

Penny’s breathing got a little more intense, heavy as her eyes widened with an almost scary amount of focus behind them before she threw her weight forward, only stopped from face planting on the carpet by Eddie’s hand around her plump tummy as she grasped the rattle. Then, she let out the happiest shriek, aggressively shaking the rattle before she began whacking Kermit’s head against the carpet on the side of Eddie’s thigh. See, while he knew she liked The Muppets because of how transfixed she became when watching the movies, he couldn’t figure out whether she loved or hated Kermit. Eddie chuckled as she let out various coos of delight, all high in pitch as she began smiling and laughing. “There’s my happy girl.” He lifted her briefly to give her cheek another kiss before setting her down between his legs as he carefully stood up, eyes still focused on his daughter happily abusing The Muppet toy. “I can’t tell if she likes Kermit or if she has a great disdain for him,” you commented as you emerged from the bedroom, glancing back at the door while you closed it due to its lack of jingle.

God, you really were his other half, always thinking the same thing as him. Usually. Eddie dug around his pocket, pulling the bell out to showcase it to you. “Your daughter took it upon herself to go on a quest in search of you and almost choked on this.” Your heart grew three times its size as you learned not only had your baby missed you enough to go looking for you, she apparently found you and had yanked off a bell dangling from the bow secured around your bedroom door knob to get to you. “Why is she my daughter when she stresses you out?” You gave him a playful glare as you walked over, scooping Penny into your arms. She immediately threw the Kermit rattle away in favor of gripping onto your sweater, furiously trying to pull the neckline down. You grabbed hold of one of her little hands to stop her, “Uh-uh. Nope. You finished eating half an hour ago and you are not about to use my nipple for your teething.” You’d made that mistake one too many times already and while it hadn’t been so bad at the start of her teething, now that she actually had teeth coming in, it hurt like a bitch when she’d clamp her gums down. Penny didn’t like that. Her happiness immediately died away, replaced with the forced tears again. You groaned, ready to submit to her demands when Eddie picked Sweetheart up off the ground, strumming once to catch Penny’s attention.

Her head snapped in his direction, waterline shiny with tears she was ready to abandon. She knew what Eddie bringing the guitar out meant. Well, usually. Eddie would tune Sweetheart around her, maybe play some of Corroded Coffin’s less harsh stuff to her but when it came down to the real deal, he’d usually put a pair of noise muffling headphones, he’d bought especially for her, on her cute little head.

“You like that, little bitty pretty one?” Eddie laughed, the sound so soft it somehow had you blushing.

Penny’s lips parted, gums exposed as her little nose wrinkled with how hard she was grinning at her dad.

“I’ll be right back,” He chuckled, pressing a kiss to her soft curls and your forehead before he disappeared into the bedroom, returning moments later with the acoustic.

“Alright, now we’re ready to party.” At the last word, Penny released your sweater to clap her hands together, it’s what she knew to do at parties.

Eddie sat down on the couch and you followed, sitting on the other cushion, placing Penny between you two as he got settled.

“Today calls for something special,” Eddie licked his lips, fingers gently drumming along the neck as he thought back to that last Christmas in his mom’s car, to one song she sang with a level of emotion he hadn’t been able to understand at the time.

He cleared his throat, fingers plucking at the chords as he began.

One chord. Two, three, four chords.

“Bells will be ringing, this sad, sad New Year’s

Oh, what a Christmas to have the blues.”

He crooned, palm tapping on the body of the guitar in rhythm with the beat he knew startlingly well for someone who was more of a Grinch than a Christmas enthusiast.

He remembered every Christmas after that last one being exceptionally lonely. The one after his mother died was spent in his dad’s VW bus while he worked in the house. His dad got him a toy he didn’t have any batteries for and left him with the blankets formally stashed in his mom’s car, though he’d check on him whenever he remembered. He’d been six and all alone.

“My baby's gone, I have no friends

To wish me greetings, once again.”

Christmas of ‘71 hadn’t been much better, but he’d learned to really use his imagination to escape. While it was another holiday spent in the bus, he’d had a couple of his toys to act out his stories, and his dad remembered to get him batteries for the new one he got him. He didn’t check on him that Christmas, but Eddie was fine. By Christmas of ‘77, Eddie was used to spending the holiday, as well as most of his days alone. His dad had moved on from giving him a toy to comics. Instead of coming up with the stories, he’d read them straight out of his mom’s books (which he fished out of the trash after his dad threw them away). His favorite was Lord of the Rings.

“Choirs will be singin' Silent Night,

Christmas carols by candlelight

Please come home for Christmas,

please come home for Christmas

If not for Christmas, by New Year's night.”

Christmas of ‘78 was his first with Wayne, who had insisted they spend it together in the living room despite how little they’d interacted all year and how awkward their dynamic still was. Every Christmas following was significantly better and he deemed it perfect when you came along. Only he’d been wrong.

Eddie tore his gaze away from the guitar in his hands and pulled his head out of the past in favor of staring at his future: the baby girl in her red and white striped Christmas onesie gazing up at him in wonder, and her beautiful mother just behind her.

“Friends and relations send salutations

Sure as the stars shine above.”

Eddie leaned down over the neck of the guitar, briefly pressing his forehead to Penny’s as she let out a happy shriek, her little hands reaching up to rest on either side of his head. He chuckled, giving her a wink as he leaned back up—not too far away—and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

Before he could get the next verse out, Penny let out a long babble that was much too coordinated to be just baby talk and Eddie’s eyes gleamed, heart just about ready to explode into a confetti when he realized she was trying to sing with him.

“You wanna sing with me, baby?” He asked, voice soft and face nearly splitting with his grin when she answered by moving onto her knees and extending her hands in the air, bouncing on her diaper-cushioned bottom.

Penny was dancing.

It was both the most adorable thing and also freaking hilarious considering she looked like she was trying to pump a crowd up on the dance floor rather than listening to her daddy sing her Christmas songs.

Eddie threw his head back with laughter and you were smothering your own behind your palm, wanting nothing more than to run and get the camcorder but you couldn’t miss a single second of this.

Once he’d recovered, having been strumming the same chords he left off on much longer than he should have, he continued singing to Penny who wasn’t at all put off from crunking on the couch by her parents’ laughter.

“But this is Christmas, yes, Christmas, my dear,

Some time of year to be with the one you love.”

Eddie pressed a kiss to her little nose after crooning out the last word, flinching a little when she practically uppercut him with her head since she refused to stop bopping up and down.

“So won't you tell me you'll never more roam?

Christmas and New Year's will find you home.”

The long winded babbling picked up after that as Penny decided she could dance and sing with her daddy.

Eddie had never had a better singing partner, no offense to you.

He leaned forward again, staring into Penny's pretty brown eyes—he knew she got them from him, but her eyes were so much prettier than his, he couldn’t explain it—fingers barely even strumming the chords as Penny slowly settled, shiny mouth dropping open as her chunky cheeks cinched up with the force of her wide smile to match her dad’s.

“There’ll be no more sorrow,” Eddie sang, his chest aching with the love he had for her as her babbling turned into cooing once more, “no grief and pain. And I'll be happy, happy once again.”

The last note drifted through the trailer and you understood your cue.

“Yay!” You began clapping to encourage your daughter who immediately joined you, chubby, dimpled hands applauding eagerly for her dad as she let out a couple more shrieks of delight and momentarily glanced back at you to make sure you saw her clapping, look mommy! I’m clapping again! I can do it, too!

Eddie preened under the attention, bowing forward.

“Thank you, thank you. You were a spectacular crowd. Especially you in the front.”

Eddie booped Penny’s nose and she giggled.

“And I’ll see you backstage.” Eddie winked at you, smirking and pleased when he saw you shift around and get all shy. As you discovered almost immediately after giving birth, having Eddie Munson’s baby didn’t make you immune to his flirting.

“Alright, rockstar. I was backstage this morning.”

“And you’re gonna be backstage tonight, several times. And tomorrow morning, a couple more times after that, when we drop Penny off at Maude and Wayne’s, in the van at least twice this week, and—honey, I can go on.”

You threw the cushion you were resting against at him and he dodged it effortlessly, shooting you a mischievous look before he focused back on the baby girl between you.

“Mommy doesn’t wanna show me any love,” Eddie pouted at your daughter and you scoffed, eyes narrowing at the blatant LIE. The things you wanted to show him were not appropriate to do in front of your child and he knew it, “Can daddy have a kiss?”

Penny babbled but she knew what that word meant, and she loved giving kisses.

Penny leaned forward, practically drooling all over Eddie’s pursed lips as she gave him the world’s sloppiest kiss.

Okay, so she didn’t exactly know how to give kisses, yet, but she still loved doing whatever the heck it was she was doing. She’d get there as soon as she developed better motor skills.

“Aw, thank you, baby.”

Eddie scooped her up, cradling her to his chest and you were moments away from mentally listing all the reasons you could not give him another baby when Wayne entered the trailer, arms full of presents and Maude trailing quietly behind him.

“Merry Christmas,” he called over the stack and Eddie handed Penny over to you as he got up to help Wayne.

“You didn’t need to go overboard for Pen, Pops.” Eddie commented, carefully unloading them under the tree in the corner of the den alongside the gifts you and Eddie had purchased for each other and Penny, as well as the gifts your friends had dropped off earlier (most of which were also for Penny).

“The majority of that is not me,” Wayne stated and Maude blushed, making her way over to the couch to give you the softest of hugs.

She reached a hesitant hand out to stroke over Penny’s curls and you shifted Penny around in your hold until she was closer to Maude.

Penny and Maude were very familiar with each other, Maude watched her while both you and Eddie were working and on date nights, but the widow from a few trailers down was still shy at times, never wanting to overstep boundaries that weren’t really there.

She was kind and you were happy Wayne had finally found some happiness rather than simply existing in the trailer (that was now yours and Eddie’s) for the rest of his life.

Penny reached for Maude and she happily accepted her into her arms, allowing you to join the boys.

“We appreciate it, but Penny’s probably going to be more taken with the wrapping paper than anything in those boxes,” you said as you stood next to Eddie, who tucked you under his arm.

Wayne gave you the smallest of smiles, almost proud looking. “‘That’s what Maude said. Didn’t just get her toys, she also got her stuff like yarn since the little rugrat’s always reachin’ for Maude’s.”

The three of you turned to watch Maude set Penny down on the carpet. She immediately began crawling for the presents under the tree, stopping and sitting in front of the largest which was wrapped in a reflective green paper with a beautiful red bow.

Seeing your daughter surrounded by so many gifts and a family that obviously loved her brought you immense joy.

Yes, Christmas used to be hit or miss for you. You had a feeling that would no longer be the case for you and your family.

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copiousloverofcopia · 3 months

Text

For the ghoul fuckers out there, here is my recent commission for @dantesunbreaker featuring our favorite gremlin, Dew!

Thank you so much for allowing me to write this for you. It was once again a pleasure and thank you for letting me to share it with others as well!

Also once again please be gentle with me I am not the best when it comes to ghoul content, but I am so happy that you all are giving me a change!!!

If you are interested in commissioning me, my carrd info can be found on my pinned post!

Never Change

The upcoming tour has you on edge when your devilish lover Dew decides to create a stir. While he meant no harm, the ghoul's antics only add to your frustration. When things reach their max and you can no longer continue, it's up to Dew to remind you on how to relax.

Also available HERE on AO3!

Definitely NSFW below the cut

Your head was pounding. The dark circles under your eyes, beginning to feel like a permanent fixture on your face and It seemed that as of late that the days grew longer and the nights shorter. You had begun to feel the weight of all the responsibility, you had at one time so willingly taken on. Now taking its toll more than you had ever expected.

At first you were elated to have even been asked. Working hard for the Ministry to ensure a successful tour for the Impera cycle was something any siblings would be honored to be a part of. There were days, however, when you hardly left the main office. The small room set aside for you, covered in an endless array of paperwork and incomplete itineraries.

At times it felt like you too were collecting dust, just as the numerous artifacts and forgotten tomes that surrounded you. More often than not, worried that the more you accomplished—the more you still had to get done. The ominous feeling of dread hitting you from the moment your eyes peeled open with the light of the sun. All of it, you often thought, would be a little less infuriating if it hadn’t been for your own personal gremlin—Dew.

You had fallen for him some time ago—back when you first became selected as a Canon for the Cardinal. A prestigious position within your Italian sect of the Ministry. You were ready to make a name for yourself just when Dew came into your life. Instantly drawing you in with his fiery and unpredictable nature. He was a force to be reckoned with, and he kept you on your toes.

The excitement between you left you with a sense of meaning—feeling more exhilarated and alive. All of your desires found to be mutual, leading to a romance between the two of you that rivaled that of Antony and Cleopatra. Hot and heavy, it was a wonder you ever got anything done. All of that, however, came crashing down when Cardinal Copia became Papa.

Your workload tripled overnight and suddenly you had gone from being able to sneak away to an alcove for some steamy afternoon delights, to being stuck behind the same four walls. Working day in and day out for weeks on end. No end in sight until the beginning of the tour. Worst of all, once the Ghost tour started and Copia left, Dew had to go with him.

You had tried not to think about it. Secluding yourself from the rest of the group. Dew, at first doing his best to give you space. At some point however, there was only so much he could give before a ghoul like Dew could no longer contain his natural urges.

This week was the worst of it. Dew finding new and inventive ways to drive you mad. First was him clawing up the sofa in the office. Leaving behind a trail of threaded up seams and worn down arm rests. He was a glorified cat in his own right, you thought, praying Sister Imperator would not hold you accountable.

The rest of the week Dew filled with the antics, the likes of an impetuous child. Trying desperately to gain your attention and doing his best to distract you from your responsibilities. Taunting you with the feel of his slick tongue running down the nape of your neck. His claws, grazing at the heat of your sex, all while you were elbow deep in monotonous paperwork. It took all the power you had inside you to shoo him from the office. The aching he left between your thighs—absolutely torturous.

You weren’t sure which was worse, the sexual edging or that he finished things off yesterday with a naked roll in the expense reports. Dewdrop, taking advantage of your quick trip to the refectory, to cover the pages in something wet. You, returning to find him amongst the pile of papers, all of them streaked in black ink and fluids. Of which the origins you dare not ask.

While you had tried to explain, in vain, why it wasn’t the time or the place. No matter how hard you tried you just couldn’t bring yourself to explain it in a way the ghoul would understand. To him it was all fun and games. He was teasing you after all, and if he wasn’t allowed to have you then this was the best way he knew to spend the time.

Now as you sat at your desk, you waited for the next Dew episode to take place. Feeling the tears pricking at your eyes when the door to the office creaked open. Your scrunkly handsome, mischievous, and smug ghoul wasting no time to step inside. Noticing right away when he walked in, that your face held more than the suggestion of tears.

“Hey babe… what’s got you all?” Dew asked, gesturing over his face with his hands. You let out a sigh, taking in a deep breath in through your nose, before exhaling sharply through pursed lips. Feeling the resolve you had been holding on to, quickly crumbling down.

“I—I just can’t take it any more Dew.” you told him. Sobbing into your hands as he quickly closed the space between you.

“Hey, hey, hey peanut. Tell me what’s going on? Are they adding more work for you again?” he asked, ready to throw hands with whatever clergyman had the balls to give you even MORE to do.

“No, that's not it.” you sniffled. Drying the tears with your sleeve as they fell from your eyes. Dew’s normally grumpy face, turning soft and concerned in their wake. His tail, coming to rest sullenly between his legs.

“Then… then what is it?” he asked, seeming to be genuinely unaware of what troubled you. The ghoul, bringing himself to sit beside you on your desk. Hopped up along the edge like a wistful kitten, wanting to comfort you.

“I am overwhelmed, that's true. Sister is on me to finish up all the contracts for the European venues and to top it off I just found out they are adding another date in September that I need to work out the details on and well… frankly Dew,” You paused, deciding to tell him the truth once and for all,”...you are NOT helping.”

“What? What do you mean?” Dew asked you, feeling a bit blindsided by your comment. Unsure of exactly what you were trying to tell him.

“I am running on empty. I have so much left to do and all this stuff with you is making the load feel ten times worse. I just wish… I just wish you’d stop with all the crazy while I am trying to work!” you yelled, putting your head down on the desk. The pounding inside of your skull intensified. It was all out in the open now. Dew pressed his lips together, feeling the weight of your words. Wishing he could take back everything he had done the past week.

“Hey…” he began, nudging you with his horns. You carefully lifted your head to meet with his gaze. This time your impish lover was staring back at you with soft, loving eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“Oh?” you asked him, wiping away the remainder of your tears. Dew pulled you into his arms. Wrapping you in them, allowing you to release in his embrace.

“I’m sorry, I let things get out of hand. I never in a million years wanted to make you unhappy and I surely didn’t want to make you break down.”

“Oh Dew… it’s not just you. I—”

“No, I know… but I could have done better to make sure you weren’t getting into a bad place. That was also my fault. I promise you that this will never happen again.” he smiled, running his hand over your hair.

“I don’t want you to change Dew…” you told him. Worried that he might have misinterpreted what you were trying to say.

“I am not talking about changing who I am, baby. I am talking about not adding more to your plate when you are at max.” he explained, assuring you that your lovable Hellraiser would still be the same ghoul you fell in love with.

“Good, cause I wouldn’t have you any other way.” you smiled, bringing your lips to his. Feeling the heat rising between you. Your heart, already beating away as the blood went surging through your veins.

“Promise me something, will you?” he asked.

“Of course… anything.” you smiled, finding Dewdrop’s look of sincerity–incredibly cute.

“Never let this happen again, ok? Don’t wait until you are on the edge before you say something to me. Promise me that you will start to take breaks when you need them. You aren’t invincible babe. You need time to ground yourself too.” Dew explained. You nodded in agreement, surprised that such sage words came from such an unlikely source. Clearly his time spent in Copia’s company was rubbing off on him.

“I promise.”

“Good. You know, even us ghouls know what it’s like to need a break. I can empathize with you more than you think. The long hours on the road, lack of sleep, the constant needing to bring your A-game. I promise you, the constant burnout will make things harder and you’ll get even less done in the end.”

“Really?” you said, though you shouldn’t have been surprised. Dew was part of Ghost and had been for some time. Of course, he knew what it was like to live in chaos and like he was running on fumes.

“Really… so make me a deal. I promise if you start giving yourself the time you need to recoup, then I will stop being such an ass.” Dew winked, “Deal?”

“Deal.”

“...and you know there is one thing I can do to help you relax—if you’ll let me.” he smirked. Instantly your skin was flooded with goosebumps. Your body, knowing even before he’d made a move EXACTLY what that one thing was. Dew dropped off the edge, turning to lift you up out of your chair onto the desk as he buried his face in your neck.

Teeth scraping along a delicate spot as he breathed his hot, steaming words of affection against your skin. His claws, gently traveling down your chest to your stomach as he unbuttoned your shirt. Feeling his desire for you growing hard against the inside of your thigh. Already your body, getting wet at the mere suggestion of him.

“I’m gonna show you just how well I can get you to relax baby.” Dew purred as his fingers slid over your zipper—undoing your pants. You hummed in approval, wiggling out of them as fast as you could without losing your position on the desk.

“Show me… I need you.” you moaned. Chewing on your bottom lip and watching as his deep, piercing eyes fall to the center of your lap. His fingers, finding their way diligently to the wet spot of your underwear. Dew wasted no time teasing it with his digit. Rubbing you there until it was soaked all the way through.

“That's right baby… that's what I wanna see. I love how fucking wet you get for me.” he growled. Moving now to sink his fingers fully inside you. His fangs, following suit as he bit into your neck.

“Ah!” you cried out. Reveling in both the pleasure and pain combined between you. Rolling your head from side to side as the sensations overwhelmed you in the best way. Dew began to lick and suck at the bite. Leaving purple marks of ownership behind them. It would be clear to anyone who saw you, that you belonged to him. That he belonged to you.

As you leaned back on your elbows, Dew lifted up from your neck to watch as he pushed his fingers carefully past your folds. Licking his lips as he pumped them in and out of your dripping wet pussy. Hungry to taste you more than anything he had ever tasted before. Not satisfied enough just to have watched you squirm.

“You’re so good for me.” he purred again. His thumb, circling over your swollen clit before he began once again dipping his fingers in and out of you. Your hands, wandering over his sleek back and tangling in his long hair, just before you reached his horns. “Fuck.” he groaned, he loved that. Knowing that they allowed you more control—and he was determined to let you use them. Happily guiding his mouth down along your folds.

“Ah…mmm…” you mewled as Dew dropped down between your legs. His tongue slithering through your wet lips and licking up inside you. Alternating between sucking on your clit and lapping at your folds as he gently worked your insides with his hands. Humming against you as he did it–the vibrations driving you absolutely mad.

“Mmmm… So... fucking... good.” he moaned, palming his cock with his free hand. You wanted him. Needed him. Knowing that riding that cock and having him knot you was the only thing that could release you from the built-up tension. Your fingers gripped tightly onto his horns.

“I’m cumming… oh fuck I'm cumming!” you cried as he pressed hard into your g-stop. The sensation of his touch on the soft, velvety tissue—sending your hips up in the air. Dew, smiling against your clit as he felt you cum. Letting you ride out your orgasm on his hand while he delightfully lapped up your fluids. The juices covering his face when he pulled up to kiss you.

You were breathless and weak as you laid there on the desk. Unsure if you’d ever be able to move again—though you certainly wouldn’t have had it any other way. Your body, still falling from the heights of passion you’d reached when Dew lifted your legs up and over his shoulders. Hastily pulling his throbbing, leaky cock out from the confines of his pants.

“I think you’re still a bit tense.” he teased, you too blissfully pleasured to even respond. Well at least not with anything coherent. Dew began running the head of his cock up through your slick. Rubbing at your entrance to finish wetting himself before he was ready to slide inside.

He didn’t need to bother; you were already so needy and ready for him. Your hips rising up against his shaft. Trying hard to guide his cock inside. Begging for him to fill you, to provide you with the friction you so desperately desired between you. Thankfully you hadn’t had to wait long when Dew plowed his way in.

“Oh, fuck me!” you yelped as he pushed himself in to the hilt. His meaty cock, meeting with the farthest point of you. Dew was only too happy to oblige. Withdrawing backward, just so he could more forcefully pound back into you. You gripped tight to the back of your legs. Dew’s hands placed on either side of you on the desk to help steady himself as he thrusted away. Fucking harder and harder into your tight, little core with every thrust.

At one point it crossed your mind that you and Dew were most likely fucking on top of the expense reports from that morning. At that moment, however, neither of you cared. Your body, too engrossed in how good it felt to have him inside you. Bucking away as he pressed tight across your walls, filling you so well you could hardly stand it.

“Dew… I wanna cum… cum with me.” you mewled. Your wanton cries of desperation, making Dew grit his teeth, hoping to hold back his own climax. There was nothing so hot as you begging for him to let you cum.

“You want me to cum baby? Well, you gotta cum for me first.” he demanded, his tail snaking up your leg and teasing at your asshole. The fluids from your drenched pussy, spilling down over it as it worked its way inside.

“Ah!” you cried out as his tail entered you. Slowly fucking your ass as Dew continued to fill your pussy to the brim with his cock. You couldn’t barely stand it. Stretched fully inside by him. The sensation made you want to explode. Unable to hold back as your orgasm came ripping through you so fast that you soaked the desk below.

Dew wasn’t satisfied yet. Lifting up and gripping the back of your legs as he pounded harder. His thumb brought back to your clit, continuing to fuck you in both your holes. His tail swirling around inside your ass and pressing up against his cock, from the other side of the thin walls, while he thrusted into you.

Neither of you could sustain it much longer. The wet sounds of his lap, meeting over and over again with yours, was absolutely salacious. The well earned sweat, dripping down his back as he continued on. His speed, beginning to slow as he grew closer to his own climax.

It was unmistakable when you felt it. His cock, beginning to swell all around inside. Pressing against all the right nerves as he spread you out, knotting you. His tail, continuing to move in and out. The two of you panting and whimpering as the pressure inside continued to build.

Finally Dew couldn’t last any longer. Cumming hard into you. Ropes of hot, sticky cum—painting the back of your walls as his tail slipped from your ass. You, beginning to completely unfurl before him when you clamped down on him once again. Tugging tightly to his knot as you felt the force of yourself squirting around him.

And just like that it was over, Dew collapsing on top of you. More spent than he had ever been before in his life. It seemed that this relaxation session was just as much for him as it was you. You held him against your chest, your breathing beginning to settle. A sense of calm, that was promised to you by your ghoulish lover, taking hold.

“You see,” Dew began while still panting away, “there is nothing like a good fuck to help you relax.”

“Agreed.” You told him, both of you laughing in one another’s arms. There was nothing more you would ever need, than to be held by those arms. No matter how crazy things got, Dew would always find a way to level with you. Even in times that didn’t involve an overwhelming amount of sweat and cum.

“Thank you.” you told him. You were finally relaxed for the first time in what felt like forever. Even more so now, knowing that you could come to Dew with your problems. Knowing that you could be honest with him and that it was ok to give yourself grace when you needed it. No matter what he would always be there for you.

“Anytime.” Dew smiled, helping you up from the desk so the two of you could clean yourselves off. Suddenly, as you rose off the desk, a look of concern spread across his face. Accompanied by an even more worrisome nervous grin.

“What?” you asked, not sure you wanted to know the answer as you picked off the stray papers sticking to your back.

“Now… don’t get mad, but I think we might have gotten some jizz on Copia’s permit agreement.

“Dew!” you laughed, giving him a tap to the chest, “Never change.”

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