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cleo-fox · 4 months

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Unraveled

Summary: It was all fun and games until Loki started wearing that goddamn sweater.

Pairing: Loki x Female Reader

Warnings: Smut, 18+, Minors DNI, dirty talk, praise kink, teasing, orgasm delay, sex, vaginal fingering, godly refractory periods, kitchen sex, semi public sex, Loki in a sweater.

A/N: My explanation for this one is that I saw too many pictures of Tom Hiddleston in a sweater and it gave me thoughts.

Being an Avenger has made you pretty good at rolling with the punches. After your third or fourth encounter with some alien/wizard/android bullshit, your perspective is fundamentally altered and real life seems manageable in a way that it didn’t before. You have to call your insurance company to dispute a claim? Big deal, you’ve negotiated with terrorists; you can handle Garth from Member Services.

The thing is, having that kind of perspective means that the things that do get to you can rattle you a lot more than they should. Natasha had warned you about that, but you were riding high on the thrill of successfully conquering Blue Cross Blue Shield and you kind of got to thinking she was exaggerating.

And then the seasons started to turn and Loki started wearing that goddamn sweater.

You can recognize when someone is out of your league. When you first moved into the Tower, it had been relatively easy for you to assign Loki to that category: he was a god. He’d been featured in last month’s GQ. You were mortal and your most recent press had been a TMZ story featuring unflattering paparazzi photos of you leaving a bodega in your pajamas at seven o’clock in the morning, a bagel halfway into your mouth. You were clearly not the same.

Up until the sweater, you’d managed to keep your cool around Loki and keep your attraction confined to daydreams and the occasional surreptitious lustful glance. Hell, you’d even had the nerve to be proud of yourself for keeping your shit together in front of him.

The sweater lays waste to all of that.

On the surface, it doesn’t seem like a sweater that is capable of completely destroying your carefully constructed composure. It’s a fairly standard crew neck in a deep green so dark it almost looks black at a first glance. But on Loki it just…does things to you. The fabric is well fitted, clinging to his biceps, pulling taut across his chest, emphasizing the line of his pectorals. It somehow accentuates how muscular he is while also still making him look lean and lithe.

The first time he wears it, you find your eyes just trail to him of their own volition, like an incredibly horny moth to the flame. It’s a day of catching yourself staring, panicking, pretending that you were actually looking at something else, and then repeating the process five minutes later when your gaze inevitably wandered again. It almost would have been funny if it didn’t put your blood pressure into the stratosphere.

To make matters worse, at the end of that day’s debriefing, he rises from his chair and raises his arms to the ceiling in a long stretch. The hem of the sweater creeps up, exposing the firm, flat muscles of his stomach, lightly dusted with a trail of hair that meanders in a tantalizing path down to his belt buckle.

You promptly choke on your own spit. Clint claps you hard on the back and asks if you’re okay, which is a question you don’t know how to answer (ultimately, you stick to a thumbs up and mumble something about dust getting caught in your throat). Loki is too preoccupied complaining about the entire concept of office furniture to notice. Or at least you’re pretty sure he doesn’t notice.

You might have been okay if that had been the only incident, but the sweater makes a repeat appearance on Friday. The following Tuesday features the deadly combination of the sweater with a pair of tight, dark wash jeans that nearly send you into cardiac arrest. Your fantasies suddenly become much more frequent and detailed.

You are not really sure what to do about this—it’s not like you can talk to anyone about it, nor can you ask him to stop wearing it without prompting some very uncomfortable questions. The idea that you’ll get used to it is laughable.

You look at your calendar and note that spring is six months away. At least.

Fucking hell.

It’s a Saturday afternoon and in a strange quirk of scheduling, almost everyone is out of town for a mission or a personal obligation, leaving the Tower unusually quiet. As much as you enjoy the daily clatter and chaos that comes with living here, you find a lot of comfort in these moments of quiet, however infrequent they may be.

You intended to make yourself a late afternoon snack. That was the plan, anyway. But as you’re standing at the kitchen counter and cutting up the fruit you just washed, you realize that you’re not entirely alone. From this vantage point, you can see Loki lounging on the couch in the next room and reading.

He’s wearing the sweater. Of course he’s wearing the sweater. And the so-tight-they-should-be-illegal dark wash jeans.

Goddammit.

You have the sense to set the knife down at least. The last thing you need is a trip to the hospital because you got too distracted by your hot colleague while handling a knife.

You let your gaze travel along the firm muscles of his chest. It’s just a sweater. It shouldn’t look this good. It shouldn’t prompt these kinds of thoughts. And yet…

He shifts on the couch and the hem of the sweater creeps up. His hand drops to his belt buckle. It’s entirely appropriate, but the way his long, long fingers are splayed against his stomach makes your mind drop straight to the gutter and wonder what they’d look like wrapped around his rock hard co—

“You know, it’s rude to stare.”

His voice comes from behind you and adrenaline surges through you like an electric shock. The Loki on the couch looks up at you and smirks before disappearing in a shimmer of green.

You wonder if it’s possible to die of embarrassment and a heart attack all at the same time. It certainly feels like you’re about to.

You take a deep breath and try to collect yourself, which feels largely futile. Come on, get it together. You’ve negotiated with terrorists and insurance companies. Shake it off.

You slowly turn around, cheeks burning. Loki is standing right behind you, arms folded across his chest. You swallow.

“I um. I was—I was just…” Words escape you as your brain fires in every direction except a helpful one.

“You were just what?” His expression is intense, but you’re not sure that he’s angry.

“Spacing out,” you say, trying to infuse your voice with confidence that you absolutely do not feel.

He places his hands on the counter behind you, intentionally caging you in with his body. You are overwhelmed by the scent of him—a masculine, wintery musk that makes you want to bury your face against his chest.

“Try again,” he says. His voice is deep enough to rattle your bones.

You swallow. Everything you could possibly say seems wildly inadequate.

Loki has never been one to be at a loss for words, though, and after a moment of terrified silence from you, he continues speaking.

“I’ve noticed something curious over these past few weeks,” he says. “When I wear this sweater, you can’t seem to take your eyes off of me.”

Your heart is pounding. Fucking hell. Have you really been that obvious?

“Now why is that?” he asks, his voice a low purr.

You briefly consider trying to lie again, but the piercing green of his eyes instantly makes you rethink it. “I um…” You swallow hard. “It’s just…it suits you. You…you look good.”

He raises an eyebrow. “I look good?”

You nod.

“Interesting.” His lips twitch in a slight smirk as he looks you up and down. “And how does that make you feel?”

Your heart thuds in your chest, your stomach contorting with a strange combination of fear and desire. You’re still humiliated, but the sound of his voice and the dark intensity of his gaze is intoxicating and incredibly arousing.

“I don’t—I don’t know how to answer that question.”

“Oh, I think you do.” There’s a rawness in his voice that makes your cunt clench.

You shake your head, eyes wide. You’re pretty sure he’s not really mad, but you also don't know where this is going. Surely he’s not making a pass at you…right?

“How does it make you feel to see me in this sweater?” he continues, his voice a low whisper. He pauses for a moment and when you don’t answer, he continues. “Does it…arouse you, perhaps?”

Holy fuck.

This can’t be happening.

You try to think of something clever or sexy, but the bluntness of the question and the fire in his eyes kills whatever remaining brain cells you have left. Mutely, you nod.

There’s that smirk again as he licks his lips. “Are you wet right now?”

Your cheeks burn. You give the tiniest nod possible.

“Hmm.” His hand alights on the button of your jeans. “I believe you Midgardians have a saying that is appropriate here: trust, but verify.” He slips the button free and your heart pounds like a war drum in your chest.

You cannot believe this is happening.

“You haven’t been entirely truthful in this conversation.” His palm presses flat against your stomach, the tips of his fingers slipping under the waistband of your underwear. “So I’m afraid I’m going to have to see for myself.”

His hand is achingly slow, creeping lower and lower. He watches you intently as his hand cups your sex, seemingly cataloging the way your breath hitches and all the little shivers that run through you.

His middle finger finally slides between your folds and you can’t help but moan.

“Oh, you did lie to me,” he growls, his index finger joining his middle, both sliding up to circle your clit. “You’re not wet, you’re soaked.”

Your legs are already starting to tremble and you grab on to his shoulders to try and steady yourself. The fabric of the sweater is softer than a cloud against your hands.

“Sopping wet,” he continues, trapping your right leg between his thighs and the counter, the heavy weight of his erection pressing eagerly against your hip. “And this is all for me?”

Wordlessly, you nod. There’s no point in denying it—and you don’t think he wants you to, either.

“What am I going to do about this?” he muses. His index and middle fingers lightly circle your clit again and you whimper.

“Don’t stop,” you gasp. “Please don’t stop.”

“Don’t stop?” he says. His tone is one of light curiosity, like you’re just chatting casually about the weather. “But if I continue, you’re almost certainly going to come.”

“Yes,” you gasp. “Please.”

“Oh, you want me to make you come?” You can hear the smirk in his voice. “Right here in the middle of the kitchen?”

You nod.

“Anyone could walk in, though,” he purrs. “Anyone could come in and see me with my fingers buried in your dripping cunt. What would they think if they saw you so utterly debauched and at my mercy, begging for me to make you come?”

“Don’t care…” you gasp. How are you already so close?

He raises an eyebrow. “You don’t care what they’d think if they saw us like this?”

You shake your head.

“Oh, you must be desperate.” He adjusts his hand, his thumb taking up the rhythm on your clit while his index finger sinks into your slick channel, making you gasp.

“Loki, please—”

“Begging already,” he says, not letting up in his rhythm. “Has it been a long time, sweetheart? When did you last feel this good?”

It’s not a question you can answer. You don’t know that anyone ever has made you feel like this. You moan, your hips bucking hard against his hand.

“Poor thing,” he tuts. “You’re clearly desperate for it. What kinds of filthy thoughts have you had about me?” he purrs. “I’ve seen you staring, I’ve heard your breath hitch. Have you touched yourself while thinking of me?”

You manage a nod and his smile turns feral. “When was the last time?”

“Last…last night,” you gasp.

“How many times did you come?”

“F-Four.”

“Filthy girl.” His free hand slides up to cradle the back of your head, his fingers tangling in your hair as he tips your head back. “Next time, all you have to do is ask.”

His mouth covers yours, his tongue pushing past your lips as he slides a second finger into you. You moan into his mouth as the pressure in your hips increases.

“Oh yes, let me hear all of those pretty noises,” he murmurs. “Are you going to let me fuck you against the counter after I make you come?”

You nod, whimpering.

“Good girl,” he purrs. “I think you need to be fucked properly and hard. Is that what you need?”

“Yes,” you gasp.

“Mmm, that’s what I thought. This cunt is just too wet and needy for any other treatment.” He draws back to look at you more fully, giving you a lazy, hungry smile. “You’re about to lose it all over my fingers, aren’t you?”

Your orgasm is cresting, the tingling pressure in your hips becoming unbearable. You nod, lost for words.

With one more smirk, he curls his fingers inside of you. “Come for me, pretty girl, let me see you.”

Your cunt spasms around his thrusting fingers and your whole body shudders as your orgasm overtakes you, your head tipping back as you cry out.

“Oh, that’s it,” he murmurs, “there’s my good girl.”

A shiver runs through you at his words, your hips still moving against his hand, trying to draw out every last ripple of pleasure.

He kisses you as you come down from your high, and you take the opportunity to run your hands over his chest and tentatively feel the hard planes of muscle that you’ve been staring at these last few weeks. But after a few moments, he takes your hand and guides it to his cock.

His preference for leather pants or those sinfully tight dark wash jeans made you suspect that the size of his ego might actually be proportionate to the size of his cock and your initial assessment seems to confirm that theory. You rub your fingers over the denim that covers his thick shaft, feeling yourself grow even wetter at the low groan he makes in the back of his throat.

“Take my cock out.” His voice is so deep and his eyes are so smoldering, it feels like the command goes straight to your cunt. You are practically trembling with anticipation as your shaking hands make quick work of the button, buckle, and zipper.

You can’t help but suck in a breath when his cock comes into view. He’s long and deliciously thick—big enough to be a little intimidating, but not overwhelmingly so.

He guides your hand to wrap around his shaft. He barely fits in your hand. “Look at what you’ve done to me,” he says, his voice raspy as he guides your hand to stroke his cock. “Feel how hard I am for you, feel how much I want you.”

His cock practically pulses with need, the tip slick with pre-come and you grasp him more firmly, your cunt pulsing as he gives a deeply satisfying groan.

You stroke him from base to tip, squeezing lightly. He groans again. “They told me to stay away from you, you know,” he says.

You aren’t so far gone that you can let this information slip by. “What? Who?”

“Stark. Rogers. Romanoff. My brother.” He reaches behind you and shoves the fruit and cutting board into the side, the knife clattering into the sink. “They saw how I looked at you,” he says. “They saw that I wanted you. They told me you were too good for me. Too sweet.”

You feel your jeans and underwear melt away in a shimmer of green and he lifts you easily onto the counter.

His eyes flash with desire. “I wonder what they’d say if they knew you’d let me fuck you raw in the middle of the kitchen?”

For a brief moment, frustration almost wins out over your lust. “We could have done this sooner?”

His gaze turns serious. “Darling, we could have done this the moment we met, but I’m told a handshake is more appropriate.”

You take a breath, about to embark on a rant about the individuals he’d named and how they hadn’t even asked, they’d just assumed, but Loki puts a hand up against your mouth.

“Don’t make me wait any longer,” he says. There’s a sincerity and a need in his gaze that you’ve never seen before and it’s enough to calm your anger for just a moment.

“Okay,” you say, wrapping your legs around his waist and angling your hips toward his, “but clear your schedule because I’m gonna need you to fuck me a lot to make up for all that time.”

His grin is feral as he pushes into you.

You shiver at the blunt stretch of his cock, your hands gripping his broad shoulders. He indulges in a low groan as his hips press flush against yours.

“If I’d known they were keeping me from this tight cunt, I would’ve done something sooner,” he rasps. “You feel absolutely perfect.”

“Please,” you breathe, “I need—please.”

His hips snap hard against yours and you moan, your head tipping back.

His eyes glitter as he pulls you close, pressing his mouth against your ear. “The next time I have you, I will be sweet and soft.”

“And this time?” you ask, though you think you already know the answer.

“This time—” His mouth presses against the curve of your neck, teeth scraping just this side of too hard against the tender skin. “—I’m going to utterly ruin you.”

His pace is fast and rough—the word possessive comes to mind. You twist the luxurious fabric of his sweater in your hands as his cock hits that sweet, aching spot inside of you, pressing against your sensitive cunt in a way that makes your muscles spasm and clench around him. You moan, a shiver rolling through you as you inch closer to release.

“I’m…fuck, I’m getting close,” you gasp.

His pace abruptly slows and his grin is wide and his eyes are dancing with mirth when he raises his head from your shoulder.

“That was unnecessary,” you say with a scowl.

“Oh, I just want to savor you for a little longer, my love,” he purrs as he settles into an easy and slow pace that still makes your toes curl. “You’re going to take me right over the edge with you and I’ve waited so terribly long to have you.”

“I feel like you’re probably omitting the fact that you like being a tease,” you say.

He grins again, increasing his pace ever so slightly. “Both things can be true.”

He does this a few times—taking up a wicked pace that almost sends you hurtling over the edge, only to slow at the last possible moment, silencing your whimpering protests with a deep and slow kiss that is good enough to make you forgive him until a few minutes later when he does it all over again.

You hold out for as long as you can, but eventually, the ache in your hips overwhelms you.

“Loki,” you breathe when his pace again begins to increase. “Please don’t stop.”

“Don’t stop?” he rasps, somehow finding the concentration to raise an eyebrow. “You’re quite sure?”

You nod.

“You want to come all over my cock?”

Speech is slightly beyond you at this point, but you manage to gasp a desperate plea as you hurtle into the final plateau, right before the fall.

Loki regards you with that same playful look as he fucks you. You wait, unsure of what he’s going to do, your body desperately crying out for your release.

His lips curl into a smile. “Come for me, sweet thing.”

At the sound of his voice, every one of your muscles is tensing and releasing, the slick walls of your cunt clamping down hard on the thick girth of his cock as you shudder and moan.

The remnants of Loki’s composure are fraying, his eyes closed and his jaw slack as he chases his own end. His brow furrows and he throws his head back, letting out a low groan as he comes and you think it might be the best sound you’ve ever heard.

You sag against him as you both come down from your respective highs, his heart beating hard under the soft fabric of his sweater. He reaches for your face, tilting your head back so he can kiss you, impossibly slow and soft.

You’re in the middle of the kitchen. You understand this. In a wholly rational world, you would be quick to hop off the counter, quick to try and negotiate the return of your jeans from whatever pocket dimension he’s sent them to.

Instead, you find yourself wanting to stay in this moment, with his arms wrapped around you, his cock still pulsing inside you as he kisses you breathless.

You count to ten, then twenty. At forty, you draw back slightly, only to have him pull you back into the kiss.

It’s somewhere after one hundred when he trails his lips to your neck and you manage to say what you intended: “We should probably…” you trail off as he sucks at your pulse point, sending a shiver down your spine.

“We should probably what?” he murmurs against your neck, before tracing a lazy figure eight with the tip of his tongue.

It takes you a moment to find that sentence. “Get dressed and such.”

You feel the sharp press of his smile against your skin. “I think not.”

Before you can open your mouth to say anything, the kitchen is fading in a shimmer of green to an unfamiliar bedroom and the two of you tumble into a bed draped in green silk.

“I’d like to stay like this for a while,” he says, a smile playing at his lips as he slowly rolls his hips against you, somehow still impossibly hard. “In fact, I think I need to have you again.”

“I can live with that,” you say. You tug at the fabric of his sweater. “But this is going to have to go.”

His gaze is smoldering and his bare skin is suddenly pressed against yours as the sweater and the rest of your clothes disappear in that familiar shimmer of green.

“Will you like me as much without it?” he asks, rolling his hips against you.

You drag your fingernails up along the firm muscles of his back. “I think I’ll manage.”

“Good,” he says, leaning in to kiss you, “because as I understand it, we have quite a lot of time to make up for.”

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rafeandonlyrafe · 4 days

Text

the same tv

words: 1.8k

warnings: 18+ only, smut, unprotected sex, p in v sex, parent death, funerals, robbery, redemption/forgiveness, addiction, drinking (wine, not like hard drinking), tickling, cockwarming, they call themselves kids at one point but at no point are reader or rafe under 18, like itll make sense once you read it in context

the first thing you do when you enter your house is kick off your shoes. the next is to stop holding back your tears as they stream down your face. you can't even sob anymore, just silent, steady tears.

you sigh as you look around the entryway. there's been some changes since you moved away, despite only being out of your parents house for a little over a year. they replaced the grand portrait that was of your mom's parents with one of you, now taking the place of honor.

you look away before you get to the rest of the family photos. you've seen enough at the funeral. you walk further in to the house, bare feet against the shiny wood floor.

you pause when you hear something further in. you haven't forgotten how the old house seemed to speak, groaning and settling during strong winds or when too many people were crammed between it's walls.

this sound seems different, but you're also occasionally sniffling, your ears are shot from blasting music in an attempt to distract yourself, so you shrug it off and walk further into the living room.

the sound suddenly makes sense as you see someone stood in your living room, arms holding up your parents flat screen television, awkwardly trying to carry it.

you aren't even mad. you honestly don't care about the tv. or the fact that someone is trying to rob you.

you let out a bitter laugh before you sink to the floor. “of fucking course this happens.” you are glad you still have your purse slung from your shoulder as you pull your wallet out, quite aggressively throwing it at the robber who has now frozen.

“what?” he questions, lowering the tv to the ground and pushing his hood of his head, a dumb move for someone currently committing a crime.

“this has been the worst week of my life and now you're robbing me. just my fucking luck…” you let out a broken sob. “just take whatever you want and leave.”

the only things that matter to you still in the house aren't actually worth anything anyways. the photos of your parents, your dad's cologne that's half empty, the oak tree that your childhood dog is buried next to.

“i thought the people who lived here died.”

you pick your head up, a look of fury overtaking your face.

“they did. they're my fucking parents! and now they're gone and you're fucking robbing me! get the fuck out!” you stand up, pushing at the robbers chest.

he looks familiar, like you should know who he is but can't place him.

“im-shit. im sorry.” he says, allowing you to shove him away and out the door.

“im really fucking sorry!” he yells again before you slam the door shut.

-- years later --

you park your car in the driveway instead of pulling it all the way into the garage like you know you should, but you need to know if you're correct about the man sitting on your front step.

“you're the kid that tried to rob me.” you say as you walk the sidewalk to the porch.

“yes.” he says, looking ashamed and a whole lot more grown up. “i was an addict and i owed a debt. my dad had just kicked me out of the house and i was on my own for the first time. it was stupid of me, but when i heard the people living here died, i thought it'd be a victimless crime.”

he sighs deeply, like even just thinking back to that time physically hurts. “i didn't even think that someone could have inherited the house. im so, so sorry.”

he swallows thickly. “my mom died when i was young. my dad- my dad just died recently. he faked his death and i got him back, but he's actually gone this time. you know what you said about the worst week in your life?”

you think back those years. it's mostly a blur, especially the days surrounding your parents car crash and funeral, but you do remember breaking down in front of the robber. you nod gently, waiting to hear the end of his speal.

“i know what you mean now. and im sorry i hurt you. im sorry about your parents dying.” he pulls something out of his pocket, extending his hand.

you look into his open palm, realizing it's a ornate gold necklace.

“no.” you shake your head. “you keep it. you don't need to bribe me to forgive you.”

“i want you to have it.” he says. “it's… it's not a lot, but it's something. something to help make up for what ive done.”

you reach forward, carefully taking the necklace out of his outstretched hand, carefully not to accidentally bump his skin.

“thank you.” you say, admiring the way the sun gleams off the metal.

“im rafe, by the way. rafe cameron.”

“y/n.” you respond, undoing the clasp of the necklace.

“here, let me.” he takes it out of your hands, moving quicker than you can think as he steps around you. your hair is already up in a bun, so rafe is able to reach around and easily place the chain around your neck.

“thank you.” the weight of the necklace feels comfortable against your skin, like it's the last finishing touch you need. you are wearing your mother's earrings, your father's bracelet, and now you have the other piece of what made that time in your life so miserable, your robbers necklace.

“i… i guess ill be going now.” rafe says.

you turn and watch him walk away. you recognize so much of your former self in him, the clear grieving he's going through.

“are you sober now?” you call out before he reaches the end of your driveway.

“sober enough.” he shouts back. rafe doubts he'll ever truly be clean, but he can at least manage now, doesn't need the drugs like he used to.

“then come back for dinner tomorrow. we can talk.”

you can see the smile stretch over his features. “ill be there.”

-- three months later --

“shit.” rafe says, head snapping over to you. “this is the same tv.”

you giggle and nod, surprised it took him so long to realize. “i never really watch tv on the actual tv, so no need to replace it.” you shrug, the gold necklace still draped over your neck. you haven't taken it off except to shower and sleep.

“god, thats crazy.” rafe looks over to you. “imagine if we just talked back then.”

you shake your head. “you just think you want that because we get along now. we were both in bad places.”

“you don't think we would have been hooking up back then?” rafe asks, raising an eyebrow at you, watching the way your thighs press together at the mere mention of hooking up, already feeling the urge to sleep with rafe even after having sex only a couple of hours ago.

“we were two scared kids. if we were hooking up we definitely shouldn't have been.” you giggle, reaching your wine glass out for rafe to refill, which he is glad to pour a more than healthy amount in.

“and now?” rafe looks down at his lap.

“and now we are two slighty less scared slightly older kids.” you giggle again, taking a deep sip before leaning across the couch cushion to press a kiss to rafes cheek, the movie you had put on long forgotten.

“rafe.” you wait until he looks you in the eye. “im here for you.”

“god, what have i done to deserve you?” rafe wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you on top of him as he flops back onto the couch.

you let out a laugh before it's cut off with his lips. he kisses you heavily, hand against the back of your head, not allowing you to pull away, not that you want to.

you let himself get lost in your kiss. you wish you had someone to support you in the time you needed most, and you're determined to be that person for rafe now.

rafe easily dominates your mouth even though he's underneath you as you quickly work your shorts off, wiggling against him until your bottom half is nude.

you press against rafes crotch, still covered by his sweatpants. you feel his cock straining against the fabric as you rub your pussy against it, wetting the gray material.

“baby, please.” rafe groans. he would pull his cock out himself, but his hands are preoccupied holding you close to him as if his life depends on it.

“oh, now you don't like teasing?” you smile.

“alright, i deserve this.” rafe also manages a chuckle despite his straining erection. “but please. need to feel your pussy ‘round me.”

“alright.” you roll your eyes dramatically. you'll have to get revenge on rafe at a different time for edging you the other night.

you push his pants down his thighs until you're able to reach into his underwear and pull out his cock. you give him a few quick strokes before lining up your entrance and sinking down.

rafe let's out a moan, barely pulling his face away from yours. “you're so wet.”

“it's almost like i like you or something.” you roll your eyes.

rafe laughs before kissing you again, hand moving up to your hair, tangling his fingers between the strands.

you sit on his cock for a moment, adjusting, before beginning to move, up then down, up then down, subtle movements of your hips, not needing anything fast, wanting drawn out, wanting it to last.

the movie is long over by the time rafe finally cums, a hand finally moving down to rub your clit to make sure you get off at the same time as his.

by the time you're both satisfied, you're sweaty and exhausted. you don't even bother to pull off his cock as you rest your head against his chest.

“thank you.” rafe says softly, rubbing his hand over your back. you don't need to ask what for. you know. for being there. you'll always be there.

you look up at him, a small smile on your face. “how are we gonna tell people we met?”

things are quickly getting serious, and while he hasn't breached the subject with you yet, neither of you have been hiding how quickly you're falling.

“what, you think it's a problem that we met when i was robbing you?” rafe says, making you giggle, only intensified by his hand pressing into your side, fingers tickling you as you howl with laughter.

rafe flips you over onto your back so you're underneath him, keeping his cock pushed inside of you.

“maybe we should just tell people we met on tinder.” rafe shrugs.

you roll your eyes. “somehow that's more embarrassing.”

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chrolloluvr · 1 month

Note

How about cuddling headcanons for Adam, Mammon, and Alastor? I'm in need of snuggles.

♡ Mammon, Adam & Alastor Cuddling Hcs ♡

Note: YESSS I LOVE SNUGGLES!!!! And ty for requesting, so here are my thoughts! ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Female!Reader, AFAB

Warnings: Sexual themes, thats all!

Mammon ♡:

Always the big spoon. He is super clingy, but only a few times will he ever little spoon.

When he is a big spoon, he likes smelling you. I know it sounds a bit strange, but he likes your natural scent. So he will sniff your hair, neck, etc.

When he is rarely a little spoon, he will just lay there while you wrap your arms around his neck. It looks silly since he is so large, but you two manage to make it work. (or atleast he forces you to)

He comes home really late at night. So he thinks your so cute when he comes home and find you asleep without him. So he will place you on his chest and stomach, and fall asleep with you.

A little secret between the two of you, he likes when you baby and coddle him. Like telling him stories, etc, But if you ever mention it to anybody else, he will go full on ballistic on you.

He likes to use your boobs as pillows. If they are big or small, he just likes laying on your chest. It helps him fall asleep easier, even though he is an extremely heavy sleeper.

His favorite cuddling position is you laying ontop of him. He likes how easily he can see you, and how he can touch you, and run his hands over your warm body easily.

If he is upset, all he wants is your hands massaging or wrapping around his (nonexistent) neck :(

If you try to get up, he wont let you. He'll trap you in his four arms. Even when he is asleep he knows whenever you are about to get up. He wont let you get up to even go to the bathroom, so you might as well just pee your pants at this point. He has a certain reflex.

"Nooo stay.... five more minutes, cmon sweets...."

However, if he needs to move, he wont hesitate to get up and just let you fall.

He prefers if you are wearing less clothing while cuddling. Not like fully naked, but in a bra and underwear. He likes how your in a relaxed state. Him on the other hand, he will sleep fully clothed. He likes to feel your natural warmth, since he is naturally cold.

He also likes trapping his head in your thighs. They are nice and warm for him, and sooo comfy. Like if you two are watching TV, or if he is rambling on about basically anything that annoys him- (which is everything at this point)

Wont make anything sexual unless you initiate. Its not like he isnt horny (trust me, he is quite a bit), But he just gets lazy sometimes...

Cuddles in his webs. He will make a cute little fort for you out of pillows and webs to make you comfortable and eased for him if you are alone.

He hates when people try to get in his way of you and your daily cuddles. Will drop anything and everything to cuddle with you.

His favorite places to cuddle are on his big webs at the stadium, or alone in bed. He wont flat out cuddle you in the webs, but will get very comfortable.

He will have you snuggle up to hip, one of his left arms on top of your head, the other around your waist.

Overall, he is stubborn when it comes to getting his way during cuddling, but he makes it somewhat enjoyable.

Some things he will say:

"Babe, c'mere for a second. I need your company right now, hm?"

"Awh, your such a good girl, you're so cute layin' on me like this"

"Just gonna take one photo, hope you dont mind sweets...."

"Your gonna let daddy lay on your thighs, yeah?"

〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰

Adam ♡:

Switch between big and little spoon. Also super clingy, even more so that Mammon. So he always has to be touching you in some way.

When he is big spoon, he likes resting his head in the crook of your neck. It relaxes him to an extent, since he has ALOT of anger issues...

When he is little spoon, he likes to feel you hold him. It makes him feel safe with you, and like all of his problems are lifted.

If you try to get up, he will start complaining and whining like a child.

"ughhh noo babe... come back...god damnit..."

His favorite cuddling position is you laying face up on his chest, with one leg up like this. Because he likes to see all of his favorite assets.

Speaking of assets, he likes your ass. Grabbing it, especially in this position. He will run his hand over it with one hand, and give it the occasional slap.

Or he will put his hands down your shirt/bra and just cup your breasts, and leave his hands there. Not even moving them.

Another one of his favorite ways to cuddle with you is by laying his head on your ass. He will literally just lay there, and act liek nothing is wrong with it. Like before bed, watching TV, he will even make you do it if he is in his office.

His favorite thing to see you wear when cuddling is an oversized t shirt w/ no bra, and panties. He thinks you look cozy, and a plus if you wear one of his shirts. Or one of his robes/any of his clothing.

He is a super heavy sleeper. He snores really really loud. You literally have to use an airhorn to wake him up. He also sleeps with his mouth hanging open.

As I have said before, he will somehow turn everything sexual, including simple cuddling. You could by nuzzling into him all cute, and he would start to run his hands in your panties. -_-

Hes a chatterbox. Even when he sleeps, he sleeptalks. He will blab on about his day, how annoying some people are, how sera is a real bitch-

SO you physically have to cover his mouth with your hand.

Does not like taking his mask off, but you are a rare exeption. He just feels so comfortable around you, and he loooves the feeling of your hands raking through his hair. It gets him to shut up really fast.

But overall, he is actually really enjoyable to be around, especially when cuddling. Just don't get too attached, because then he wont leave you alone.

Some things he will say:

"Please? Lets just lay down for a bit babe, im tired."

"Ughhh just stay do you have to go to the bathroom every 5 seconds?"

"If you leave im gonna be very upset y/n." :(

〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰

Alastor ♡:

Always the big spoon. He just likes the feeling of you laying with him, and being able to hold you innocently.

His favorite part about cuddling is feeling your skin flush again his. He in general does not enjoy being touched, but by you? You are lucky to be considered the only exeption.

He likes when you play with his ears sometimes. Most of the time he wont let you, but when he is feeling docile he likes feeling your fingers rub and scratch the base of his ears. Never his antlers though.

Or when you rest your head against his chest. He cant help but bring a hand up to your back and affectionately sooth it.

If you try to get up, he also will not let you. Unless you have to go to the bathroom, he will accompany you since he is a gentleman. (in his mind, that is a gentlemanly thing to do.)

"Sweetheart, do you need to get up? Here, let me join you."

His favorite position is the classic hold from behind. He sleeps with his eyes open, so it helps if you are not scared by him and facing away...

He enjoys holding you affectionately, and being so vulnerable around you. You can also hear gentle radio static that sounds like white noise.

Places he likes to cuddle are his bed, chair up in his radio tower, and on the couch occasionally. And only if he is sure nobody is around.

Alastor is a very private person, especially with you. He prefers to keep his love life and cuddling activities secluded.

His favorite thing to see you wear is a silk robe, either red or white. He thinks you look elegant and very attractive to him. He likes the feeling of the silk against him, which soothes him for some reason.

He never takes cuddling and makes it sexual. Even if you were to initiate, he would play dumb and act like he doesn't know what you are trying to do. He just hates ruining he moment with his darling.

Meaning he takes snuggling with you very seriously. He will drop everything to nuzzle up to you. He acts like it doesn't faze him, but really it does in only a way you can do.

Here are some things he will say to you:

"Darling, how about you and I relax for a little bit? It may ease your nerves."

"Sweetheart, are you asleep? Oh dont you just look adorable."

"Hm, how about you get up now? Its been a little while, my dear."

So overall, snuggling with him gets you really relaxed, but he has a make staring problem if you don't mind...

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satoruwiki · 1 month

Text

"lemme see," sukuna says as you come to him, all keen and sunny, to show him your new lip combo.

you playfully pucker your lips into a smooch and giggle. "what do you think? pretty, right?" you ask, giddy to hear his answer.

he can't help but grin at your apparent excitement and eagerness for his praise. it's cute how ecstatic you can get for a bit of his approval—you must be really infatuated for him to act like a teenager in love. "pretty indeed," sukuna hums as his hand cups your chin, his thumb gently playing with your bottom lip. "you know where it'd look prettier, though? those pretty lips would look even prettier wrapped around my cock," he says, giving you a quick kiss followed by a shit-eating grin.

albeit he finds his words cunning and hilarious as fuck, you begin to question yourself why you fell for him. your brows knit into a frown, and your lips form a pout, not finding an ounce of humour in his words. "come on, it was funny!" sukuna rolls his eyes and scoffs.

"i'm being serious, 'kuna! i'm asking you if it looks good or not," you chastise, crossing your arms over your chest.

"i'm being serious too, baby! want me to prove it to you?"

"i told you it'd look prettier around my cock," sukuna huffs out with a cocky grin plastered on his face, guiding your movements down on his dick with his hand under your jaw, feeling his cock fill your tight little throat.

gulp after gulp, your lips smear the glossy lipstick around the smooth skin of his shaft down to the base. "feels good, baby?" sukuna coos, holding your hair in a makeshift ponytail. batting your wet lashes, you meekly nod and moan around him as you taste the artificial strawberry flavour of your gloss mixed with the saltiness of his precum on your tongue,

Squeezing your thighs together, you snake between them to relieve the ache your pussy is begging to be taken care of, which Sukuna rebukes, yanking your head back harshly. "hands off, don't think I can't see you trying to play with yourself," he says, slapping your cheek with his fat cock.

"ngh- but- please, suku-" you whine pleadingly, hoping to nudge something inside him to allow you to touch your throbbing clit.

"no buts, that pussy is only mine to touch," he pries your mouth open as he taps his bulbous head onto your lipstick-smeared lips, your mouth quickly getting to work sucking his tip fervently. sukuna hums in contentment as you go back to slobbering his dick, his thumb caressing your jaw in circular strokes, "such a needy girl," he purrs lowly, his voice dropping to an octave as your lewd ministrations on him elicits a groan from him.

it takes much control for him to not drop his head back, but he wouldn't miss this view for anything; your cute doe eyes watery with your ruined mascara staining your cheeks in black streaks as you sink down on him. such a nasty view deserves to be framed in a large photo somewhere in his flat, but you'd kill him if you knew about it. the memory engraved in his mind will be enough for when you are not with him.

a soft whine reverberates around his cock as your maw begins to ache. your tongue swirls around the stiff member lodged in your cavity, trying to ease the burning pain in your throat; you breathe through your nose, bringing your hands to play with your boyfriend's hefty breeder balls.

sukuna's abs began to clench and his legs to tremble as he felt close to his climax. the prominent veins around his dick began to throb as he suddenly pushed his cock fully down your throat, causing you to yelp and gag on him as thick ropes of cum painted your esophagus.

"fuckkk," sukuna groaned in ecstasy, pulling his twitching and flaccid cock out of your mouth, cleaning the fine thread of saliva mixed with semen off your swollen lips with his hand. "open," he instructed, which you obeyed, showing him the nasty white mess he had made in your mouth.

being such a good girl for him, sukuna rewarded you, pulling you into a sloppy and messy kiss, not caring to taste himself in you as he tangled his wet muscle with yours.

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my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction · 1 month

Text

Play Pretend

Jake Lockley x F!Reader • Rating: 18+ pals •Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | request info • MK Bingo 2024 Masterlist • ko-fi •

Summary: Jake doesn't have much experience in more... intimate matters.

🌛For @moonknight-events MK Bingo Spring 2024 Event🌜

A/N: Okay, so I'm not super happy with this. I don't know. Anyway, I feel like I'm always saying this but my head is really bad with editing atm. I'm sure I've missed so many typos. I'm so sorry.

Warnings: set in Steven's flat (UK), swearing, loss of virginity, p in v sex, fingering, oral sex (both m and f receiving), overuse of italics, typos, railroad sentences, please let me know if I've missed a warning!

Word Count: 4909

Jake shifted a little nervously as he rested his head on your chest, despite the comforting weight of your arm around him.

He was half laying on you as you were sitting on the sofa, his feet resting on the armrest as you both watched… something on TV. You watched, Jake just couldn’t focus. Even though he normally adored being snuggled up on the settee next to you, savoured any time you both had together.

He moved again, trying to keep it as minimal as possible so as to not bother you. Slowly he tensed and untensed his legs, switching it so that one was over the other and then back around again.

There was a deep heat growing at the base of his spine, an ache between his legs. He swallowed. Maybe he could excuse himself to the bathroom, rub one out quickly and then come back to your embrace without getting hard like a horny teenager just because you were close.

It was embarrassingly really. How often this happened. Sometimes you didn’t even have to physically be around, just smelling your scent lingering around the flat was enough at times. The feel of your jumper in the wardrobe when it brushed against his hand as he got dressed in the morning. The photo of you and Marc at the park on the side table. That time Steven accidentally used your shower gel instead of his own.

He shifted again. Maybe he could-

“You okay?”

He jumps despite the softness of your voice and turns his head quickly to look at you, a little wide-eyed. “Yeah?” He answers a fraction too quickly to be considered ‘okay’.

You give him a bemused smile. “You sure?”

“Hmmhmm.”

For a moment you pause, just cocking your head to the side ever so slightly as you regard him and Jack as to practically bite the inside of his cheeks to stop himself from groaning out loud. Why, oh why, did you have to look so adorable when you did that?

“You need to sneak off to the bathroom?” You ask innocently, but there’s a telltale mischief to your eyes that makes Jake’s blood run cold.

“I, erm, what are you talking about amor?”

You gesture with your chin to his not-so-subtle budge in Steven’s sweatpants.

“A…” He shifts again, thinking about grabbing a pillow to place over himself for a second before realising how silly that would be. You already knew what he was hoping to hide. “Maybe.”

You smile and kiss his cheek. “That’s okay, you can go. I’m not gonna judge you. You know I don’t want you to sit here and be all uncomfortable.”

“Hmm.” He gives you a small smile, a light dusting of pink highlighting his cheeks and the very top of his ears. “Sorry.”

You frown a little and speak kindly. “What are you sorry for, silly?” You lightly stroke the shell of his right ear as you talk, just brushing your fingers along the outside and tucking a few errand curls behind it.

He shivers. You know what you’re doing.

“For…” He gestures to his crotch and you giggle.

“I could…” You bite your lip a little a you speak and Jake pinches his thigh to keep control of himself. “Help you out with it? If you want?” There’s a little nervousness to your words, a worry of overstepping a boundary.

While you had been physical with Marc and Steven for a while now, the most you had done with Jake had been to kiss and hold hands. Not that you minded. Jake was his own person and you wanted to go at his pace, take your time with the more intimate side of things. Or, never have that kind of relationship with him at all. You were just happy to spend time with him.

He didn’t really like talking about that side of your relationship, and you didn’t want to push him.

Jake’s blush grew darker. “I… erm…”

You resisted the urge to gently tease him about his loss for words.

“I…” He closed his eyes, blurting out his words and screwing his face up afterwards. “I’m a virgin.”

“Oh.” You said in surprise. That certainly wasn’t what you expected him to say.

He opened his eyes quickly, a tense look of fear pinching at his features and you quickly realised your mistake.

“No,” you say quickly as you reach out and stroke his hands, embracing them in your warmth. “I mean ‘oh’ as in, ‘oh, I didn’t think you were gonna say that’, not ‘oh, that’s a problem’.”

The tension in his shoulders viably relaxed slightly and he gave you a weak smile. Looking down briefly at your hands and stroking your knuckles with his fingers.

“So… you’ve never done anything… sexual before?”

Your own tiptoeing around the word makes you wince.

“Just sort of kissing, I guess.” He looks up to you with his large, soft eyes. “Is that a problem?”

“No, no, no,” you say quickly, “no at all just… yeah, surprising.”

He raises an eyebrow at you.

“Well,” you nudge him playfully with your shoulder, “I don’t know if you know this, but you are very pretty.”

Jake snorts, grinning from ear to ear. “I’ve been told.”

You smile back at him before softly brushing his hair behind his ear again, savouring his little hiver. “You know we don’t have to do anything, right? There’s never any pressure, I want you to know that. I’m more than happy just to be with you like this. I love you, it doesn’t have to be physical.”

He nuzzles into your hand, kissing your wrist. “I know,” he whispers, “and thank you, for saying it out loud I mean.”

You stroke his cheek as he talks.

“It’s not that I don’t want to… and I know you’ve technically been with the body before, it’s just that…”

You stay quiet as you caress his face, letting him take his time.

“I don’t want to disappoint you.”

As the last words leave his lips a little crack forms in your heart.

“You could never disappoint me, Jake.”

He smiles but tuts. “You know what I mean… inexperienced isn’t exactly code for ‘giving their partner’s good time’, right?”

“I’ll have a good time no matter what because I’m with you.” You give him a soft kiss and he smiles.

“That’s not what I mean Amor,” but he kisses you again. “Thank you though, it’s just…” he pauses, thinking carefully on how best to explain himself. Out of the three of them Jake is always the one who thinks most about what they say before they say it. “It’s just, I didn’t want to just… be with someone for the sake of it, I wanted it to be with… someone special, someone I care about. And now…”

“You’re still waiting for that someone special.” You nod solemnly as you tease.

Jake glares at you playfully, ticking your side until you giggle and hold up your hands.

“Sorry, sorry,” you mutter between laughter.

“You should be.” He leans close and lightly nips at your neck. “Be thankful that I’m in a forgiving mood.”

You grin and kiss his nose.

“You are my someone special,” he continues sincerely, “and I want it to be enjoyable for you, I want you to…” he trails off and looks down for a second. You can see that hint of a blush returning.

“You want me to…?”

He bites his lip and swallows. “I want you to look and sound like you do with Marc and Steven.”

You smile cheekily. “You watch?”

He avoids your gaze. “Sometimes.”

“Sometimes?”

“Almost all the time.”

“Almost?”

“99.9%.”

“What’s wrong with the .0?” You say, pretend indignation in your voice.

“I’m sleeping.”

His matter of fact tone takes you by surprise and you laugh loudly.

“Fair enough.” You stroke his cheek again.

“You don’t mind?”

You shake your head. “Marc might. Maybe.” You shrug. “You’d have to ask him.”

“I’m definitely not doing that.”

“Steven won’t care.”

Jake nods. “That’s true. Exhibitionist that one, for certain.”

You laugh again and then pause as both of you look at each other for a long moment.

“Why don’t we play pretend for a bit? Help you relax and get out of your head?” You ask.

He thinks for a moment before he opens his mouth, a smirk on his lips. “I think it’s called ‘role play’ amor.”

You tut.

“All I’m saying is I shouldn’t be the one who knows more in this situation-” Jake yelps as you cut him off by tickling him this time. He jumps back from your reach and grins. “Unfair.”

You poke your tongue out at him.

Which he promptly returns before he smiles. “Alright, let's play pretend’.” He sits up straight on the sofa, his hands neatly in his lap as he waits for your direction.

You give him a brief suspicious look, Jake was never usually one to agree and behave without having some ulterior motive.

“Alright,” you say a little suspiciously as you settle down next to him. “You can stop this at any point you want, okay?”

Jake nods once.

“Okay, so,” you give him a little glance and see he’s listening intently. “I’m thinking, ‘where’s Jake the most comfortable?’”

“In bed.” He interrupts cheekily.

You snort. “No. I was going to say, driving.”

“Driving’s not very comfortable.”

“Jake-”

“Not here anyway, roads are tiny.”

“Jake-”

“And everyone’s an asshole.”

“Okay, that’s true.”

He grins.

“But, humour me, yeah?”

He nods. “Consider yourself humoured.”

“Alright, driving. So, we’re in the car, you're driving.”

“I’m on the wrong side.”

“Jake.”

“I’m on your left.”

“Well, we’re in America now.”

“How did we get here?”

“Jake.”

“Did we fly?”

“Jake.”

“Marc’s gonna be pissed if we don’t get some pizza, I can tell you that-”

You shut him up by kissing him deeply. While it may not always be the most convenient method of silencing him, it certainly is the most effective.

He kisses you back desperately, sinking into your embrace and bringing up his hand to lightly caress your cheek as you lick into his mouth.

You know why he’s talking so much. The action so unlike Jake. He’s nervous.

He moans softly as you pull back a fraction, trying to follow your lips.

“I should really be keeping my eyes on the road.” He teases, his voice low and wrecked.

“Well, it’s a good job we’re on the settee then, isn’t it?” You wrap your arms around him, pulling him closer and pressing your lips back to his.

You swallow down his softly whimpered moans and trail your hand down his chest. You keep the action slow, deliberate. So he has plenty of time to feel where you're headed, and to stop you if he wants.

You lightly palm his erection through his jogging bottoms and he hisses in a breath, his hips bucking up towards your touch as he keeps kissing you.

His hands wrap around you, pulling you closer as he trails his lips down to your jaw, pressing soft kisses along the bone before slipping further down to your neck.

You press a little harder, running your hand up and down his clothed length and massaging his heavy balls. His cock twitches under your actions, warm and throbbing.

Jake hisses in a breath, “please.” His voice is so quiet you almost can’t hear him, can distinguish his words from moans as he presses his lips to your skin and sucks lightly.

You tangle your free hand in his hair, pulling lightly at the curls to make him whine as you hook your fingers under his waistband and pull his trousers down.

Jake groans, squirming a little and lifting his hips quickly, grabbing hold of the material and yanking his boxers and jogging bottoms down to his knees, keeping his mouth at your neck the whole time.

The heat coming off his skin almost burns. Even without seeing his face you know that deep blush is back, the one that spreads across his skin like ink and makes you lightheaded from desperation for him.

Languidly you run the tip of your finger down his length, savouring the way his cock jumps and twitches under your attention. The head is ruddy and swollen, a bead of forming precum seeping out from the slit that begs you to swipe it away with your tongue.

You wrap your fingers around his girth, a not quite firm enough grip, and pump him twice in long, slow movements.

He sucks in a breath, shivering and muffling his moans against you, his fingers tightening on your side as if you’ll move away. As if you would ever want to leave him like this, aching and needy.

You dip your hand lower, massaging his balls again and the little sound Jake lets out is the sweetest thing you’ve ever heard.

“Fuck,” you breathe and quickly pull away from his hold.

Jake makes a small sound of distress for a moment, thinking you’re stopping, before he realises what you’re doing.

You lean down, taking hold of his cock and pumping him slowly as you lick along his tip with the flat of your tongue.

Jake groans, throwing his head back against the sofa and balling his hands into fists at his sides.

You repeat the action again, and again. Lapping at his slit and spreading his precum across your tongue.

He gasps, his thigh muscles twitching as he fights to keep still and not buck up into your mouth.

“This okay?” You ask between licks.

“Yes, ah, yes, really okay.” He whimpers, squirming a little and biting his lip. “Please don’t stop.”

“I won’t.” You whisper and lightly suck at his head, moaning as he slips into your mouth, and swirling your tongue around him.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” his hips buck up a fraction before he catches himself and forces them back down against the cushions. “Sorry,” his words are muffled as he grits his jaw, bites his lip and tries to not completely lose it after barely thirty seconds.

You hum, pressing your tongue flat against him and let yourself slide further down, swallowing and sucking on his greedily.

“Oh, shi-” he catches himself, fighting every instinct to give in and chase his pleasure. He bites his bottom lip hard, drowning in pleasure and not even trying to come up for air.

His sighs and pants echo around the flat as you move faster, sink lower, until he hits the back of your throat.

He gasps loudly, a string of swears thumping out of his throat in a rush.

Then suddenly, his hands are on your jaw, lightly lifting you back up and off him. “Stop, stop, stop,” he rushes the words together and you move back quickly.

Your mouth is barely off him before he’s pulling you into a searing embrace, his tongue dancing with your own and licking his precum from your lips.

“You, you,” he mutters, one hand pulling at your jeans and undoing the button. “You, need you,” you’re not sure if he even realises he’s speaking, his thoughts bypassing any check system and coming straight out of his mouth.

He pushes you back against the sofa and you let him, let his strong, warm hands guide you and push your jeans and underwear down your thighs just enough so that he can touch you.

He sighs loudly as he strokes between your legs, the sound almost as if you were the one touching him and not the other way around.

You moan his name, pulling at his shoulders.

“Show me, show me,” he mutters into your mouth, “please.”

You grab hold of his hand, pressing his thumb against your clit and showing him the soft circles you like. He follows your directions eagerly, his large dark eyes mesmerised as he watches.

When you press his fore and middle finger towards your slick entrance he moans again, gently pushing inside and shivering.

“You’re really wet.” He mutters, trying to control his breathing. Slowly he pulls his fingers out before pushing them back in, revelling in the sound your arousal makes. “Is that,” he repeats the action, his eyes flicking up to your face, “is that okay? Feel okay?”

You nod, keeping a gentle hold on his forearm. “Just, fuck, thumb’s great, just, sort of curl your fingers a little bit and-” Your sharp moan cuts over whatever you were going to say next as pleasure runs up your spine like lightning.

“Like that?” He whispers, his voice thick and heavy, his pupils blown wide.

You nod desperately, rolling your hips to chase the sensation of his fingers. “Like that.”

He groans a little, pressing closer so he can lightly kiss your neck, alternating between sucking at your skin and looking up to watch your face in a blissed out rapture.

“What made you so wet, hmm?” He mutters into your ear, rocking his hips against you so that his painfully hard cock rubs against your thigh.

“Fuck,” you hiss as the tips of his fingers brush perfectly inside.

“Hmm?” He asks needily, practically begging, as if he hasn’t got you at his mercy.

“You.” You manage to stammer out.

“Me?”

“You.”

“You like sucking my cock that much?” He groans, having to pinch his side with his free hand to stop his eyes from rolling back in his head.

You nod desperately, bucking up into his hand as you chase your orgasm. “Yeah.” Your voice comes out as a pathetic whine and Jake growls.

He watches you for a few more seconds, trying to keep hitting that spot that makes you mewl under him.

Suddenly, he stops, pulling back his hand and you practically sob, tugging lightly on his wrist to try to keep him inside of you.

“Jake,” a deep down part of you wishes you didn’t sound quite so needy, but most of you doesn’t care in the slightest.

“Put your mouth on me again please,” he mutters, his voice rushed and breathless as he urges you down towards his cock with his hand on your upper back.

You nod, moving quickly to lick a long stripe up the length of him that has him moaning like a whore.

You take him back into your mouth quickly, sucking him as deep as you can and further still. Jake’s whimpers spurring you on.

He keeps one hand on your back, nearly at the base of your neck, pressing down ever so slightly to guide your tempo. While he shoves his middle and forefinger into his mouth and groans at the taste of your arousal.

He moans loudly, his chest vibrating with the sound. “Amor,” his voice is thick, on the verge of breaking, “fuck you taste-” he gasps as you sink lower, your own sounds of pleasure echoing along his cock.

He bites back a sob. “Taking such good care of me, you taste so sweet,” he sucks on his fingers, desperately trying to find every single trace of your slink that he can. The wet sounds cut over your own, somehow louder in your ears than your racing heartbeat and your mouth around his hot, thick cock.

Jake’s eyebrows pinch together as the ball of pleasure starts to tighten uncontrollably in the base of his stomach, pushing him higher and higher and so close to tumbling off the edge.

“Amor,” he whines, biting his lip and gently pulling you off his throbbing cock for the second time.

A thin trail of salvia connects you for a brief moment. You pout a little at being coaxed away from him again, Jake savours your expression for a heartbeat before kissing your swollen lips once, twice. His hands on either side of your face, stroking your cheeks as he slips his tongue into your mouth and squirms in his seat.

He breaks the kiss briefly to tug off his own trousers, reconnects your lips with a groan and tries to get your jeans off without moving away again.

You chuckle lightly at his impatient scoff when it doesn’t quite go to plan. He scowls at your clothing, as if it was purposefully being difficult. Swearing lightly under his breath before looking down and tugging them off. You pull your top off at the same time, burning with need. Desperate to feel his skin against yours so keenly that it is almost to the point of pain.

“Lay back please,” he mutters as he tugs your legs free and clambers between your thighs. His hands dig in just enough to send a shiver along your nerves, twisting deeply at your core. His stubble grazing over your skin as he places sloppy kisses on your inner knee, trailing upwards and nipping lightly.

He moves hastily, forgoing any pretence of being able to hold himself together as he gazes at your aching pussy. He darts out his tongue, licking one long swipe through your folds and up to your clit, closing his eyes and moaning at the taste wantonly.

“Fuck, Jake, I-”

He plunges two fingers back inside you, curling them exactly how you instructed and you all but scream. Your breath stolen from you as he flicks his tongue against your clit, circling one way and then the other before latching on and sucking it into his mouth, trying to follow directions from hazy encounters he watched quietly in the headspace.

When you grab hold of his hair, your hips arching up into his mouth he groans, opening his eyes so that he can see the look of pleasure on your face. How you contort under his touch.

He sobs, rutting needily against the sofa, the expression on your face almost too much to bear.

You buck against him unthinkingly, your body taking over as you need to chase your high. His name falls from your lips in whimpered gasps, separated only but pleas and muttered praises.

You guide the back of his head, encouraging him to lap at you in time with your hips and he follows your directions instantly, pressing closer and moaning against you so much that the sensation nearly has you screaming.

Your thighs shake as you bite your lips together, muscles tensing and waves of pleasure begin to build and build and build, threatening to drag you down over the edge in one fell sweep and-

Jake pulls back quickly, the bottom half of his face shining with his slavia and your slick. You groan in frustration as he moves, but let go of him so as to not pull at his hair.

“Jake,” you say, a spike of irritation weaving through your words.

He moans at your tone, his eyes glazing over ever so slightly. “I’m sorry, please,” he rubs your thighs, kneading his fingers into your skin as his own hips rock and buck against nothing but the air.

His cock is red, leaking and almost painful looking with how hard he is. It bobs up and down with every movement, almost pleading with you to take pity.

“Please what?” You whisper.

Jake shuffles back into a sitting position, both feet flat on the floor. He looks at you a little uncertainly for a split second before he pushes the emotion down. “Please come and fuck yourself on my cock.” He says quietly, as if he was truly asking you for a favour and not letting you have everything you want.

You all but jump into his lap, pulling off the rest of your clothing and kissing him hard. He moans against your lips, following every movement desperately as he places his hands gently on your hips.

With the last fragment of your rapidly disintegrating self-control, you manage to pull away from him just far enough to speak. “You sure?”

It’s like he doesn’t hear you, too drunk on your touch for your words to make sense. He moves forward, trying to kiss you again. But you hold him back a little, pressing your hands against his cheeks softly but firmly until his eyes meet yours, his eyebrows pinched in puzzlement.

“Are you sure you want to do this? I don’t want to rush you, we can-”

“Please.” He practically sobs. The break in his voice at the end of the word rings so loudly in the room that you're surprised it doesn’t echo. You’ve never heard him so needy before.

“Please,” he repeats, “I want to, I want you. If… if you’ll have me, if you-”

You cut off any self-destructive thought that was destined to fall out of his mouth with your lips on his.

“If I’ll fucking have you,” you mutter against him, raising up on your knees and taking him in your hand. You line him up with your entrance before you sink slowly down.

Jake gasps, grabbing hold of you and squeezing you tight. His face pressed into your chest as you hold his shoulder, kiss his temple as you ease him inside.

He bites his lip, trying and failing to hold back a whimper, but succeeding in keeping his hips still.

You gently turn his face towards you by his chin as you bottom out, kissing his plump lips once, twice before you speak. “You okay?”

He nods, completely lost in the feel of you squeezing around him. “I’m not gonna last.”

“That’s okay,” you smile sweetly, stroking his hair.

But Jake shakes his head. “It’s not, I want you to-”

“Hey, hey,” you soothe, “I’m having a good time, okay?” You smile and gently take one of his hands and guide it between your legs to your clit. “Here, remember what I showed you?”

He nods, looking up at you like you painted the sky and quickly begins those soft circles that have you clenching around him and moaning softly.

He lets out a choked sob. “Can feel you.” He mutters. “Feel you… squeezing, and fuck, so warm, and wet, and tight and-” he swallows his words, groaning loudly, his eyes closing as you start to slowly move, using his shoulders for leverage.

His fingers don’t falter though.

The stretch of him is so good it burns, pressing hard and deep inside and threatening to crack you open at any given second.

You keep your movements steady, rising up and sinking back down, watching his every expression intently. The bob of his throat. The lines of concentration on his forehead.

His thighs shake, his lip so tightly between his teeth that it’s losing colour.

“You want me to go faster?” You whisper and he grounds, nodding rapidly.

You can’t help but smile as warmth runs along your veins. How much he trusts you to take care of him, how hard he’s trying to stay still.

You kiss him hard, forcing him to stop biting his lip and let out the sweet sounds he’s been trying to hamper. He takes hold of your face with his free hand, caressing your cheek as you slide your tongue into his mouth.

You pick up your pace, truly riding him and he moans.

“Amor…”

“Move with me.” You mutter, rolling your hips and encouraging him to buck up and do the same.

He whines, but nods, kissing you deeping as he fucks up into you as you set a brutal pace.

The slide of his thick cock makes your spine bend, your body moving on autopilot as you chase your high. Your breath catches in your throat as he hits deep. Your fingers tighten around his shoulders, digging into his sweat soaked skin.

Jake's eyes snap open, watching you intently and angling his hips to try to hit that spot again.

“Please, please, please,” he mumbles with every thrust, not sure what he’s asking for but knowing that he’s desperate for it.

You tense, your muscles clenching as bliss begins to burn at the edge of your vision. “Jake, Jake, fuck.”

“Yes, please, please,” he moans, obsessed with how your lips part, your eyes shut as you get close, “please.” His thumb swirls messily over your clit, slick with sweat and your wetness, he pushes you closer.

The slap of skin is nearly as long as both of your moans as you bounce relentlessly on his cock, his balls slapping against your ass cheeks.

Stars begin to swell behind his eyes, pleasure spiralling in the base of his spine. “I can’t, I’m gonna- please!”

It’s a sobbed beg that pushes you over the edge. How desperate he is for you. How needy. How shamelessly open with what he wants.

You swear as pleasure crackles over your skin, burns through your veins as you come. Jake groans loudly, following you a fraction of a second later and gasping as you squeeze his cock, milking him for every last drop he has to spend.

He buries himself deep, pressing his face into your chest. For a second he’s weighty, floating somewhere high above everything, somewhere warm and safe.

And then your hands stroke his arms, your lips kiss his sweaty forehead, and he can feel you, your warmth, your everything holding him tight and keeping him safe.

“You okay?” You stroke his hair softly and smile when he looks up at you.

He nods and grins, pressing his lips to yours in a long, soft kiss. “I think I like play pretend amor.”

You snort. “Oh, do you?”

“Hmm, we’ll have to do it again.”

____________________________________________

Thank you for reading!

@pleasurebuttonwrites @raven-rk @campingwiththecharmings @alexxavicry @mystinky-butt @cocodiem @oscarisaacsspit @whatthefishh @mbakubabe @romanarose @saturn-rings-writes @boredzillenial @lonelyisamyw-0love @queerponcho @pimosworld @melodygatesauthor @steven-grants-world @eyelessfaces @angel-of-the-moons @minigirl87 @lunar-ghoulie @dumdaradumdaradum @plastichearts @silvernight-m @autismsupermusicalassassin @apesarecuul @reallyrallyauthor @basicalyrandom @spxctorsslxt

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#jake lockley #moon knight #moon knight mcu #jake lockley x reader #x reader #jake lockley x you #x you #jake lockley x female reader #x female reader #jake lockley x f!reader #x f!reader #jake lockley x fem!reader #x fem!reader #my writing #fanfic #oscar isaac #oscar isaac characters #moon knight bingo 2024 #moon knight events

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dawn-dream-crusader · 6 months

Text

DMC boys hedacanons - Sleeping positions

________________

Dante

Due to his non-caring attitude about himself, he dozes off right on his chair most of the time. Legs on table, hands hanging down, a magazine on face instead of a sleep mask. Just how he likes it and just how Morrison usually finds him.

When on couch, he sleeps like a little child, really. It's that one position, when hands are under pillow (even though Dante's is flat like a pancake), legs pressed to chest. He seems to relax more than ever while sleeping like this. Gives him memories.

And when you're with him, he would hug you with one of his arms and pull you closer, so your head lays on his chest, so you could hear his heartbeat, how far he's ready to go for you. Dante remembers a similar picture from his magazine, and chuckles slightly, throwing your arm over his body. These pictures lack sensuality. He pats your head and takes your hand just to plant a little kiss on your palm. You mean more to him than any photo could ever convey.

"Hm? What's it, strawberry? Nothing? Then sleep again. I don't want you to knock out on our tomorrow date."

Vergil

Before meeting up with Dante again, Vergil used to curl up in a ball on ground or a tree to keep himself warm, wrap in his coat, press Yamato to his chest, getting ready for a battle with any entity that would come by. He would wake up from the littlest sound, swinging his sword and accidentally cutting down a tree. There was no rest for him.

After reconnecting with his humanity, Vergil sleeps on a firm bed that Dante bought for him, in his room in Devil May Cry. Now, that he feels a bit safer, he naps, throwing his limbs all apart, still pressing Yamato to his chest, in a grip of disturbing thoughts still covering himself with his coat.

With your help, he slowly becomes more comfortable with not having his katana right next to him. Vergil lays Yamato on ground and finally gives in to his urges: he wraps his arms and legs around you, pressing you closer to him instead of a weapon. He nuzzles your hairline, holding your hands in his, making sure every part of you is warm. As strange as it is, Vergil can't help himself but shower you with compliments all night. He whispers to you, how much he loves you. How much he wants you to stay with him, by his side. Everything that he doesn't know how to say when you're awake.

"I wish I had met you sooner. My star. Maybe, something would change in my life... if you were next to me."

Nero

This sweet boy is definitely what you need, if you like people who kick in their sleep. Every night has the same scenario: Nero throws off his blanket, wakes up from cold and then puts in back on, and in the morning he can't understand how to untangle himself from it. One time he used devil magic and burned the blanket to ashes. Don't try at home.

And with you, he wraps you in. Nero'd sleep at the North Pole with no clothes whatsoever, but he'd totally make you a walking mummy from blankets. Even though he is the best listener, Nero won't let you take your rest without anything to warm you. He's a caring guy, just like his father, but at least, he doesn't suffocate you with his limbs. Nero hugs you and pulls you close, so he feels your breath on his neck. A cute guy.

"Where is this damn blanket.. Here it is. Look, I want you to be healthy, so you don't catch cold. Got me? Nice, baby."

________________________

P.s. Very short. I woke up and decided to write.

#devil may cry #dmc5 #dmc #vergil x reader #dante x reader #nero x reader #devil may cry headcanons

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wileys-russo · 6 months

Note

https://vm.tiktok.com/ZGJv9uRjT/

can you write a fic where reader annoys lessi like this while she is trying to order at a drive through for us plsplspls

inspired by the tik tok obviously and also alessia looking good af driving her mercedes

iced coffee II a.russo

you adjusted your seatbelt and tucked one of your knees up to your chest as alessia pulled up to her favourite cafe, which now did drive through. a god send for the blonde who struggled out of bed every morning despite your insistence she wake up or the two of you would be late to training.

it meant it left little to no time for either of you to stop and get a coffee, or make one at home, and so a drive through was the perfect option.

though today neither of you had training, in fact you really weren't sure how you'd ended up passenger princessing for the day alongside your favourite blonde. ring clad fingers drumming the steering wheel her hair was pulled up into a messy bun and her favourite pair of black prada sunglasses covered her ocean blue eyes.

your girlfriend for once was the first awake today, gently shaking you and kissing your forehead, sweet nothings mumbled in your ear as she held you tightly while you slowly awoke. you were startled at the time, not planning to have gotten up until eleven without any commitments on today.

you also hadn't thought you'd be waking up next to alessia given she had two photo shoots back to back today with adidas and oakley. when you'd gone to bed the plan had been she’d be out until around three in the afternoon, and you’d not needed to go with her.

but as alessia’s alarm had gone off and she groggily awoke, seeing you dead asleep beside her was a sight she rarely saw given that she was always the last one up between you.

your nose twitching every now and then you stirred and cuddled into her more, tucking your face into her chest as she swooned, your cheeks flushed and hair sprawled across the crisp white linen, rosy pink lips slightly pursed.

alessia was absolutely smitten with you and so in that moment as her heart soared with love for you, she decided you were coming with her today wether you wanted to or not, the thought of leaving you all alone like this was one she simply refused to bare.

however with your day planned to include sleeping, napping and lazing around on the lounge you were much less appreciative of the early wake up and the somewhat forceful change to your schedule.

"good morning! what can i get for you?" the barista chimed out happily as alessia rolled down the window. “good morning! can i please start with a large skim iced caramel-“ the blonde squealed suddenly as your fingers poked beneath her armpit where you knew she was incredibly ticklish.

“what are you doing?” she whispered as she shoved your hand away with a frown, turning back to the window and rambling out an apology as you poked her again with a grin as she flinched.

“oh my god.” her hand shot out to tightly grip your wrist, pinning your hand down in her lap as she realised what you were up to.

“sorry! can i please get a skim iced caramel cappuccino with an extra shot? and also a regular oat flat white with-?” alessia began to rattle off both your orders as usual.

“baby no I want the same as you.” you nudged her with your foot, desperately trying to pull your hand away from her iron vice grip but it was to no use as it remained pinned in her lap.

“sorry can you please make that two of the large skim iced-“

“actually no i’ll have my regular order.” you changed your mind, not missing the warning glare thrown your way by the very irritated blonde beside you who without having had her morning coffee yet, was running on a thin level of tolerance for your antics.

“sorry no i will have the same as you!” you changed your mind again as alessia was mid way through re-ordering your normal choice. “are you serious right now?” the girl flicked her sunglasses on top of her head and scowled in your direction, a simple action which was unexplainably hot to you.

“sorry i’m a bit lost. could you start your order over?” the barista requested politely and you winced as alessia’s nails dug into your wrist in warning as she hastily rattled off two of her regular orders, still trying to pull yourself out of her grip.

“beautiful. can i get anything else for you? we actually just added a brand new breakfast sandwich to the menu. it has bacon, egg, hash brown, sausage patty and cheese!” the barista recounted, clearly having been told to push the newest item.

“ooo that sounds lovely!” alessia nodded along with wide eyes, her stomach grumbling at the thought.

“ooo that sounds lovely!” you mocked her, definitely loud enough for the barista to hear as a slight laugh was quickly covered up by a fake cough and echoed through the speaker.

you only smiled innocently as alessia shot you a murderous glare, her jaw clenched as she opened her mouth to say something but thought better of it, turning back around.

you licked your finger and when she wasn’t paying attention you shoved it in her ear, jumping away as she reached over and tried to hit you, her fist thumping into the leather head rest of her merc.

“you’re testing my fucking patience.” the striker warned quietly, nostrils flared as once again you smiled innocently, finding her ungodly attractive when she was angry with you.

“will that be all?”

“actually can I get both those coffees with light ice?” alessia remembered how quickly it would likely melt in the warmer weather, hardly wanting to water down her favourite beverage.

“no i want regular ice.” you shook your head as alessia started to repeat that. “no actually light is fine!” you changed your mind, shoving the blondes shoulder and tickling under her arm now she’d let your hands go.

“oh my god.” alessia forced herself to take a deep breath, apologising calmly to the barista and repeating her order back at the girls request. but as you started to interrupt her she lunged at you, one hand grabbing the back of your neck and the other slapping over your mouth.

she managed to somehow get through the rest of the order, thanking the barista and moving forward, taking her hand off the back of you neck to steer.

alessia battering off your ongoing attempts to annoy her, settled somewhat by the fact she would have a coffee and breakfast in her hands soon, eventually collecting everything and pulling out of the driveway, not without giving you another withering glare as you happily picked at your food and sipped on your coffee with a grin.

“you are such a brat.”

#alessia russo #woso x reader #woso #woso fanfics #woso imagine #alessia russo x reader #woso blurbs #engwnt

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facioleeknow · 23 days

Text

Time for love ° Hwang Hyunjin

Hyunjin. the immortal Adonis, falls for a human.

WC: 2094 Genre: Greek mythology AU, angst, smut

TW: make up artist reader, model hyunjin, smut, masturbation, thigh riding, handjob, mention of cum, borderline asshole hyunjin, greek gods and goddesses, mention of blood, angry hyunjin and angry deities

AN: thank you from th ebottom of my heart to th elovely @leeknowsallyoursecrets , for giving me her opinion about this.

My Kofi if you want to support me <3.

Hyunjin was old. Hyunjin was really really old. Eternal youth they called it. When one thinks about youth, they imagine freshness and fun; a colorful, colorful phase when you get to try new things and explore the world. Hyunjin’s life was anything but; he had seen every corner of this earth and tried every experience that was humanly possible. His life was flat and gray, there was nothing more to do and he was bored.

He remembered his first life. His name was Adonis and he was considered the most beautiful man in the whole world; he was so beautiful that goddesses soon appeared on his doorstep and asked to share his bed. That’s how his story became myth, or what people thought it was.

He had lived many lives from then, he had taken many names and done many things, he lived a tranquil life and minded his business; had sometimes taken a couple of lovers but nothing that had stuck to him.

His life and pattern of change had come crumbling apart when one day the gods decided to come out in the open and introduce themselves to humans. With time everything was uncovered and the protagonists of every myth became their own kind of celebrities. He had never been more famous in his life, but he also had never been more lonely. He was beautiful and that was a fact, and with the fame came the modeling offers. He modeled for the most famous maisons of fashion of the world and people loved him. No they didn’t love him, they loved his body, they loved his face, they loved his fake smile and fake confidence.

His days were always the same, he would wake up at an insane hour, get on set, get ready, shoot, get unready, check social media and then go to bed, just to do it all the following day. Day after day the cycle had never been broken, for years on end. Until it had.

When he walked inside the photo studio, he could sense something had shifted in the air. He hated changes. A heavy hand smoothed back his unruly hair, his eyes closed almost on instinct after he sat down in his makeup chair. He had requested a special chair, made of one of the softest furs he had ever touched, where he could sleep and relax.

Something warm and small suddenly touched his shoulder, hesitantly. He hissed and his eyes shot open, his staff knew better than to interfere with his pattern.

His breath hitched in his throat when he opened his eyes. This wasn’t his usual make-up artist.

“Sorry to disturb you Mr. Hwang, I am Y/N L/N, your new makeup artist,” your voice was sweet, way too sweet to be human, but he knew all deities by heart. Perhaps some kind of creature.

“What happened to Ha-na?” his eyes bore holes into your skull, his gaze held a fiery passion you had never seen in your life. Is this how an immortal looks?, you thought.

“She’s on maternity leave, sir,” you had never felt that nervous in your life.

The conversation died off after that but his eyes were fixed on you. There was something about you that Hyunjin couldn't quite pinpoint, his inside felt like they were lit on fire. His head told him that if he looked away from you, something bad would've happened. He had to have you, one way or another, he didn't even care if you were human or not.

Since that day Hyunjin had always waited anxiously for your arrival every morning. You would always greet him with a tight lipped smile while you closed into fists your obvious shaky hands. He liked to think your hands were shaking and your heart was beating out of your chest because of him.

At night Hyunjin would lie awake and think about you, your hair, your lips, your hands, your eyes, but most of the time he would think about what laid under your clothes, how your curves would look and how they would feel in his big and soft hands.

He had to have you, he didn't care if you were human or not.

The second time Hyunjin spoke to you, it was weeks after your first encounter.

“What are you?” his eyes bored into yours like the first time you met.

“What do you mean sir?”

His presence felt almost overbearing, it looked like he was towering over you, it felt like he was everywhere, you couldn't run from him. But in reality he was still sitting in front of you.

“Don't play coy. What kind of creature are you?”

“Creature? I'm human, sir,” your eyes wide as saucers at his assumption. You? A supernatural creature?

“Are you lying to me?” His tone was stern and demanding.

“No, sir, I would never.”

He didn't reply.

He was scary. Immortals were scary and dangerous for humans more than anyone else. You should've been fearful of him but a familiar throb between your legs kept growing and growing and you couldn't help but feel ashamed.

Hyunjin could feel your arousal, he could read it on your face. After centuries he could read human emotions quite well.

“Everybody out!” His tone left no space for arguments. The staff and photographers scurried out of the room with their hearts in their throats.

“Come sit.” The immortal patted his spread legs, his big hand encased your wrist.

“Excuse me?”

“You don't want to?” he sounded cocky now, a new emotion he let you see.

“I didn't say that,” you stuttered.

“Then be a good girl and straddle my thigh.”

His hands never left your body, not even when you complied and positioned yourself how he asked. He was in control, he was the one guiding your movement.

A small gasp escaped your lips when you felt him ground you on his strong thigh.

“Please sir, touch me,” the shame fueled your pleasure like never before.

“No can do, get yourself off like this or don't at all.”

That was the best orgasm of your life.

After he touched you, Hyunjin couldn't get enough of you. He thought your voice was sweet at first, but your moans were even sweeter, your skin tasted like nectar and your pussy like ambrosia. He was addicted.

Sleep came easier to him now but not even in your dreams he could escape you. Your voice, your sweet whines, your skin, your scent, they all clouded his brain even in his slumber. He'd wake up hard as a rock every night and leaking. He would fuck his fist roughly, just how he liked it, he would use all of his toys and cum again and again until his seed had permanently stained his satin black sheets. But it wasn't enough. It was never enough. He had to feel you clench around him, he had to feel you rake your nails down his back, he had to push your legs to your chest and see fat tears roll down your cheeks.

So he would get up and drive to your house where he would fuck you until you both passed out. It became some sort of routine, one that he followed religiously. But the more he saw the bigger a foreign and strange feeling grew inside him. It started at the pit of his stomach and then spread through his chest like a warm blanket enveloping him in a tight hug. It was comforting and that unsettled him.

He was confused and ignorant, he hated that. But he knew that it didn't come from him, somebody was attacking him. That's how Hyunjin found himself in front of the goddess of love, Aphrodite, herself.

“What have you done to me?” he yelled. He knew yelling at a deity was not a smart move but the anger was consuming him, mixing with that strange feeling and making his blood hot.

“You cursed me, didn't you? You cursed me because I don't want to share a bed with you anymore, you selfish woman.” The moment those words came out of HYunjin’s mouth he regretted them. The room started shaking along with the anger of the goddess, everybody knew not to anger Aphrodite. he was foolish, he thought he could get away with it because he used to be her favorite lover. The goddess grew in stature, the light bulbs in the room exploded, leaving the only light her angry eyes.

“You foolish human, how dare you speak to me like this,” this was not Aphrodite the goddess of love, this was the goddess of fiery passion and victory, “ I did not curse you. You do not hold significance in my eyes anymore, you are a mere human. Humans all fall in love, it’s their destiny.”

The walls of the pristine white room they were in started to crack under the gravity of the goddess full immortal form. Hyunjin knew that the fact he was not dead meant that Aphrodite let him live as a sign of charity and because of the time they shared their bed. But she did not give second chances, she never had so he quickly kneeled and when he felt the presence of the immortal get gradually less overbearing he got up and walked backwards until back hit the door as a sign of respect and then left.

The drive home was pure madness, flashes of rage traveled through his body like lightning before leaving like nothing had happened. Hera was punishing him for angering her daughter, nothing was less expected from the goddess of family. When he stumbled into his house, with shaky hands he grabbed his ceremonial cup and offered his bloods to the gods to appease them and as a thanks for sparing his life.

The following day Hyunjin avoided looking at you in the eyes, he had never looked away from you, not even once. You were so used to having his fiery gaze on you that now your whole body felt cold as ice.

‘Maybe he’s tired,’ you thought while you worked. Tired or not, you felt him miles away from you even if you were touching his skin with your very own hands. Something had shifted between you.

The next day felt like a deja vù, Hyunjin still had his eyes closed and he still refused to talk to you. You felt wronged and cold. The following days followed the same pattern, it felt like a terrible nightmare. His nightly visits had also stopped and so did his texts.

Anger and frustration were eating away at you. Work had started to get tougher and Hyunjin’s attitude was making your mental health drop. The last straw was the pouring rain, you were stranded at work, with no umbrella, when all you wanted to do was go home, eat ice cream and sleep.

Fat teardrops started dropping down your cheeks, why was this all happening to you? Why couldn’t you live in peace? Why was Hwang Hyunjin doing this to you?

“Are you crying?” That voice. Hwang Hyunjin.

“That’s none of your business, Hyunjin,” you furiously wiped at your cheeks.

“It is,” his hand cupped your cheek and you had no strength to fight it, “ it is because you are the only woman i’ve ever loved in my long life.” Your breath hitched in your throat.

“Say that again.”

“You, “ he paused, “ are the only wo-”

You didn’t give him the chance to finish his sentence, your lips attached to his and you richest deflated with relief. Kissing him felt familiar and natural. The recognizable desire that always lit within you when you were with him started spreading through you like wildfire. Your hands quickly traveled to his pants and unbuttoned his pants without thinking, you had done that countless times. His dick was already hard and leaking, waiting for you. Your soft hand wrapped around his velvety skin and tugged and moved just how you knew he liked, how you knew drove him mad. Your lips found his neck and nipped and sucked at his pulse point, his weak spot.

“Oh, baby, I’m not going to last, I think I’m cumming.”

A quick swipe of your thumb against his slip made him spill all over your hand, his head thrown back in ecstasy and his eyes tightly shut.

“You’re gonna be the death of me, lover, but first let me return the favor.”

A hand on his chest stopped him.

“Take me on a date first.”

“Whatever you want, lover.”

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drewsbuzzcut · 5 months

Text

Christmas Trees & Ice Skating

mat barzal x model!fem!reader

a visceral in doses fic

warnings: mentions injuries but no actual injuries and slightly mentions panicking and fears

This takes place almost a year into their relationship!

“In the few years I’ve lived here, I’ve never come to see the Rockefeller tree. It’s beautiful,” you whisper, body rigid even though Mat’s hugging you from behind.

Right now you’re both on the ice rink, taking in the view of the Christmas tree. You’re feeling like a newborn deer, so Mat is holding onto you extra tight- not that you’re complaining.

“Yeah, it’s really cool. I’m glad I was able to be the first person you got to experience it with,” he mutters into the skin of your neck.

“I’m glad, too. Although I’m not glad I’m on ice and on skates,” you say, slowly turning around to face Mat, your feet wobbly.

“It’ll be okay. I’m going to help you as much as you need, baby,” he whispers in your ear.

“Say it again,” you request for him to use the pet name again, your body leaning into his.

“Baby,” he says in his soft voice that only you get to hear.

“You swear you won’t let me fall?” You ask, feet spread on the ice as you clutch onto the sleeves of Mat’s hoodie.

“I swear,” he claims, a hint of an amused smile gracing his features. His hands are placed on your hips to keep you from slipping.

“I cannot believe you’re making me do this,” you shriek, cheeks growing redder despite them already being red from the cold.

“It’s part of our deal! I do a little photo shoot with you and you let me teach you how to ice skate,” he reminds you of a prior deal you made with him.

“Fine. We can move now,” you say, feeling your nerves bubble in your stomach when he pulls you by your hands.

Your hands noticeably tremble in his hold, so he makes sure to tighten his grip. He’s moving backwards while you slowly start to move your legs.

“You got this!” He encourages you.

“I got this,” you say in a panicked laugh, body still shaking with nerves.

“You do! You just need to take a couple deep breaths and concentrate,” He assures you.

“Don’t let me go,” you whisper, still lightly laughing in disbelief.

“I won’t,” he claims.

“Oh my god! Mat!” You say as he starts to skate a little faster. Your hands pull out of his grips to fist the sleeves of his hoodie.

“Mathew, oh my god,” you say frantically, small little laughs falling from your lips as you try to disguise your fear.

“Babe, you’re doing just fine. Focus on something to take your mind off it,” he suggests.

You look up into his eyes, immediately feeling butterflies take over your nerves. He’s staring back at you. Maybe you should be taking in the sight of the crowded ice rink and the big Rockefeller tree, or focus on your movements, but you can’t help but stay focused on your boyfriend.

You’ve only been dating for around 10 months, but you already feel so much for the hockey player in front of you. You feel his hands squeeze yours and for a moment you feel everything slip away. You move to take a step towards Mat, desperately wanting his lips on yours, forgetting that you’re in skates. Your one step turns into you slipping, grabbing ahold of your boyfriend’s shoulders as you fall forward.

It takes Mat by surprise, so by trying to regain his balance, you both end up falling onto the ice. He doesn’t get to break your fall as you’re chest to chest with your back flat on the ice. His large body hovers over you as you look into each other’s eyes. It seems like Mat is extremely shocked and guilty. You huff in deep breaths, trying to calm your erratic heart.

“I’m so sorry. Are you okay?” He asks frantically. His eyes roam over your body, searching for any injuries.

“How can I trust you to score me a goal when I can’t even trust you to catch me when I fall?” You tease him but it makes him stressed.

He immediately starts blabbering, spewing apologies and questions about your potential injuries. His eyes are wide and his cheeks are a shade of red you’ve never seen on his face. You think it’s lovely, and you know you want to see it again. You hold back a giggle, reaching up to grasp his face in your hands and silencing him with a kiss.

You can physically feel his body relax, his attention now being placed on kissing you well. Your hands travel to his back, heart fluttering at the feeling of his muscles from under his hoodie.

“I’m just joking,” you whisper against his lips, slightly out of breath.

He lets out a soft exhale, his forehead coming down to rest on your shoulder.

“We should probably get up before someone complains about us being in this slightly r-rated position,” you giggle, carding your fingers through his hair.

“You’re right. I should probably carry you off the ice being that you’re quite the skater,” he teased you, earning a scoff and a playful shove.

“Don’t be jealous. I’m coming for your job, so you better watch out,” you tease back, yelping as Mat pulls you over his shoulder as he starts to skate off the ice.

“That’s fine. I actually like being in front of the camera, maybe we can switch,” he muses, making you laugh loudly.

“You wish,” you say through a gasp as he slaps your ass.

Once completely off the ice, he finally sets you back on your feet for you to readjust your clothes and pull off the skates.

“I thought we’d be here a lot longer,” you say, realizing you’d only been at the rink for half an hour.

“We’re just getting some hot chocolate, then I’m taking you back on the ice until you can skate at least 1 minute without me holding you,” he informs you, which makes you pout.

“Why must you insist on torturing me?”

He just gives you a devilish smirk, leading you to get your hot chocolate.

You take a pause from walking right where the huge Christmas tree looms over the both of you, and it does wonders with lighting up you and Mat. You can see the smile on his face clear as day. He holds your skates while you both sip on hot chocolate, trying to keep warm.

He steps closer to you, throwing an arm around your neck to pull you in. His nose nudges yours, his lips getting closer to yours as he lets them brush against each other. You lean up, connecting your mouths together. Your body seemingly warms up despite the freezing temperature.

“Thank you,” he whispers into your kiss.

“For what?” You pull back, cupping his cheek with one of your hands. You softly caress his bottom lip as it’s slightly swollen from the kiss.

“For letting me teach you to ice skate even though you’re scared of it. I just wanted you to be able to skate around with me during family skate,” he says softly and your heart melts in your chest.

“If you don’t kiss me now, I’ll freeze to death,” you blurt out, cheeks red because you’re still feeling giddy about what he just said.

He lets out a small laugh, pulling your mouth back on his until you have to pull away for air.

You never thought you’d want to learn to ice skate so badly until now.

a/n: I don’t really like how this came out, but I didn’t feel like continuously changing everything. Anyways, I hope y’all enjoy it!!!

#mat barzal #mat barzal angst #mat barzal fluff #mat barzal blurb #mat barzal x reader #mat barzal fanfiction #mat barzal smut #mat barzal imagine #mat barzal fic #nhl imagine #nhl fic #new york islanders #visceral in doses

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sneakyparsnipslicer · 2 months

Text

The Cult Of Knives

[Sorry it's been a while folks, hoping you've all been OK. This came to me in a lucid dream. I've captioned all the photos so you can imagine what each character looks like, enjoy!]

It's an age old mistake, you've seen it in movies no doubt. One thing you never, ever find yourself doing is going within five metres of an abandoned cabin in the woods.

It all began late one afternoon, I'd left my apartment to go for my daily jog. It was a standard part of my daily routine by now; finish work, jog around town, go home. Plain and simple. Work kept me on a little longer that day so it pushed my jog a little further ahead. It wasn't so bad when I started, but soon enough the sky began to darken. On the outskirts of town is a field that leads to a bridge, and near the other side of the bridge is a forest. I used to go camping with my friends back in my school years, but now at 27 I don't really hear from them anymore. They all went off to do their own thing.

Anyway, as I got to the forest, I was relieved. I'd forgotten to go for a piss whilst at home and at least in the forest I could piss in a secluded area. I jogged a little way in, found a bush and did my business. When I'd finished I looked around, remembering those good times with my friends. I decided to have a look around for old time's sake. It's funny how places like these can hold so many memories for certain people. Right there by the river, that's where we all sat blaring Panic! At The Disco in the dead of night, that's where Charlie and Jeanette had sneaked off to have a little… fun. We were barely of the legal age back then, so funny looking back at it now, thinking we were giving the middle finger to society. And of course there it stands, The Old Murder Cabin.

The guys used to tell stories about this cabin, full of bullshit of course, used to scare the girls. Stories of there being an axe murderer living there who cut people up to sell as meat on the market. I remember once me and Paul had dared to break in there one night. It was empty, so it's safe to say the stories fell a bit flat after that. Shane never did forgive us for ruining that for us all. Still, it was like time had stood still here, like I was 18 again.

It was beginning to get darker now and I was thinking about heading back home when I stopped in my tracks. For a moment I could've sworn I heard voices. As soon as I started to pay attention they stopped. Had I imagined it? I cautiously crept along the wall towards a window, holding my breath I peeked in. Inside was the long abandoned kitchen, nothing seemed to be inside. I heaved a sigh of relief and chuckled, just my imagination. Though looking back in again I did notice that the table and chairs had been organised. When Paul and I had gone in years ago it was all slumped against walls and the chairs were upturned. Maybe someone had been living in there at some point. I felt like I shouldn't investigate and decided it would be wise to head home, that's when a huge hand with a cloth swooped out of nowhere, covering my mouth and nose. An arm tightened around my chest and though I tried to break free, the chloroform made short work of me.

'Knew I could see someone down by the river, like a moth to the flame!' someone laughed.

'You reckon he'll do?' asked another. I felt a foot sharply kick me in the side of my stomach and that's where I woke up coughing and spluttering, gasping for air.

'Transpierce, Sabre, restrain him' ordered another voice. Next thing I knew two blurry figures were hoisting me onto a hard surface and were busy on either side of me, fastening belts around my wrists. As my vision began to return to me, I could see that I was tied to the kitchen table inside the cabin. On either side of me stood two burly, hairy and muscular men. The room was lit by candles so this whole premise felt very unsettling and dreary.

'What's going on?' I asked, looking around for answers.

'Looks like you picked a bad night to stumble into the woods kiddo!' said a voice ahead of me. There stood another man built quite similarly to the two either side of me. I couldn't help noticing they were all shirtless, showing off their pecs and abs.

'Sorry, I thought this place was abandoned, I didn't mean to interrupt you all' I said, looking between them. The one ahead of me shook his head and folded his arms.

'Well to be fair it was until about a month ago, that's where I stumbled upon this place' he explained.

'Ah, love what you've done with the place!' I said, laughing nervously. At which they all chuckled in unison.

'He seems rather sweet doesn't he lads?' he asked the other two, to which they both nodded.

'Oh definitely!' said the man on my right.

'A perfect match!' said the man on my left.

'Good, I think so too. Transpierce, go and get Mateusz would you?' the man at the front asked as he moved over to take over his post. The man to my left, Transpierce nodded and walked off to the other room.

'Transpierce, that's an unusual name' I said, looking nervously into the man's eyes, I could only assume he was their leader.

'He chose it himself, we all do. I'm Bayonet, and our friend over there is Sabre' said Bayonet, moving his hands to examine my shoulders.

'Bayonet, that's a kind of knife, right?' I asked him. Bayonet smiled and nodded.

'Intelligent too! I appreciate a man that knows his knives!' he grinned, looking deeply into my eyes. I was feeling really uncomfortable by this point. We seemed to be getting along, but why was I still restrained? He looked up and down my body and sighed.

'It's a pity, you'd have been welcome to join my little Cult as you are, but there are certain… requirements I must enforce' Bayonet said. He left my side and walked over to the doorway that Transpierce had left through.

'Transpierce? Mateuz? What's taking you two so long?' Bayonet demanded.

'Just a moment Boss, he's almost ready!' called Transpierce from the other room.

'Good!' announced Bayonet, satisfied. He turned back to look at me.

'It's always a special occasion when we acquire a new Suit'.

What did he mean, suit? I was in my t-shirt and shorts, and they sure weren't wearing any suits. Bayonet turned his attention to a wooden chest in the corner of the room and pulled out a satchel containing various tools. As he searched the satchel, Transpierce returned to the room accompanied by a skinny-looking guy, either he was drenched in water or covered in some sort of gel that glistened in the candle light. I had to assume this was Mateusz.

'Alright then Matty, this is your moment. Your induction. In your own time' said Bayonet, turning around, holding a syringe and a bottle of glowing green liquid. Mateusz nodded hesitantly and made his way over to me. Our eyes locked and we regarded eachother for a moment. Not gonna lie, he was pretty cute, though he wasn't built and muscular like the other guys. He placed a greasy palm on my left leg and I shuddered. It was cold and strangely felt like a cut to the skin. He moved his hand slowly up my leg to my groin and the others stood back and watched.

Mateusz licked his lips and placed one hand on the table, hoisting himself on top of it, standing above me looking down, he gently lowered himself to sit on my crotch. I'm not usually into twinks but this guy was doing it for me somehow. He moved both of his hands along my arms to my restrained hands and filled them with his own, locking fingers with me. He moved to lay down on top of me and began to kiss me. This guy was good, tonguing my mouth and exploring, I could feel his hardening shaft grinding into me. He pulled away and I moaned. Whatever this guy wanted to do to me, I was his. He sat back up and began to pull his boxers off, letting his erect dick spring free. It had to be 7 inches long. I licked my lips, was I about to get to taste it? He moved to sit on my chest and he cupped my jaw in his hands, staring silently again. Then he moved to position his dick into my mouth and began to face fuck me. I so wished I could hold his body but my hands were restrained. As if they could read my mind, Sabre and Transpierce approached and undid the belt buckles, allowing me to put my hands on his bubble butt. I wanted all of that inside me. Mateusz continued to fuck, panting and groaning, eventually he came in my mouth and I swallowed his thick, creamy load. He pulled himself off me. I gasped for air as I laid down on the table, unable to take my eyes off Mateusz. Him unable to take his eyes off me, he caught his breath and began to smile, chuckling.

Assuming it was my turn to repay him the favour, I moved to pull my t-shirt off, but he stopped me, shaking his head.

'I'm not done yet, that was foreplay!' he said winking. I looked at him bewildered, face fucking was foreplay to him?!

It was at this point Bayonet approached with his syringe and injected the green, glowing substance into Mateusz's arm. It took a moment, but his skin began to glow green and the gel he seemed to have been coated in made him appear to turn rubbery. It was like he was now a hot, humanoid version of Flubber.

'Oh we're going to enjoy this!' Mateusz said, glowing before me. He squeaked and squelched as he moved and returned to sit atop me. He kissed me again, but this time his lips got sucked in, then his head began to get sucked into my mouth, squeaking as it went. I placed my hands on his shoulders and they ran down his slick body as it gradually began to suction into my own. As his torso, ass, dick, arms, legs and feet began to slide into me, my stomach began to balloon out and glow green under my clothes. The other men whooped and cheered. Underneath my skin, I could feel Mateusz repositioning himself, arms into the correct places, legs where they should be. My own skin was beginning to balloon out too, as muscle began to build, my clothes began to rip to shreds. I began to grow pecs and abs just like the other guys, my hands belonged to Mateusz now and he moved them below what remained of my boxers and began to pump our expanded dick. Both of us moaning in unison. I could feel my load getting ready to shoot and that's the last thing I can remember.

Mateusz groaned in pleasure as cum shot out from his new dick, two thick strings and then excess green liquid spewed out. He looked to the ceiling, sweat glistening on his new chiseled body. His friends surrounded him and smiled proudly at him, they'd been masturbating as they watched his merging with the captive jogger and moaned as they emptied their loads over him, christening him a new man, rubbing it all into his skin. Panting, Bayonet helped him to his feet and kissed him.

'Speak your new name, Brother!' he cried. Mateusz thought for a moment.

'Call me Machete!' he decided. Transpierce, Sabre and Bayonet looked between eachother and nodded approvingly.

'Very well! From this night forth you are complete, you are our beautiful Brother Machete!' said Bayonet proudly, hugging him tightly. Now they had four complete members to their ranks, in time their ranks would grow and the Cult of Knives would amass many more followers, but for now it was time they all got some action from Machete!

#merging #male tf #male transformation #gay #bodysuit

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bettyfrommars · 1 year

Text

I'm on Fire

Chapter 1: Black No. 1

biker!Eddie Munson x fem!artist!Reader

Part 1

Series Masterlist

🚨18+ Only, older!Eddie, tow truck driver Eddie, biker!Eddie, alcohol consumption, sex with someone other than reader, cheating (not on reader), slightly fuckboy!eddie, adult themes. Y/N is used several times in the first few chapters, and I apologize for that. This was the very first reader insert series ever, and it's insane how much the characters and story have grown. I really appreciate those who have been on this journey with me, and those who continue to want to read it!

Word count: 3.3k

There is an instant spark of chemistry between you and the guy who rescues you from the side of the freeway in his tow truck, courtesy of Munson's Garage. While you've never met him before, your roommate has, and you learn a few things about Eddie Munson while he indulges in one of his late-night extracurricular activities, which is just one facet of the dark secrets in his life.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. You weren’t supposed to have a crush on your tow truck driver.

One second, you’re cruising along the freeway, blasting Linger by The Cranberries, looking forward to the future, and the next---your tire blows and you’re on the side of the road questioning when you will ever catch a break. You were trying to remember how far back the last payphone was as traffic sped by, blowing your hair into your face, when a big, mean looking, black tow truck with Munson’s Garage written on the door slowed down and pulled in front of you.

The guy behind the wheel waited for a few cars to buzz by before he dropped down from the cab, boots hitting the pavement, and made his way over to you. He’s wearing his long, dark hair tied back in a ponytail, black jeans with a wallet chain hanging at his thigh, and a button down blue work shirt that says Eddie on it. He’s muscular in a manual labor way, and you spot a few tattoos at first glance, just as he closes the distance between you.

“Come here often?” He asked, the side of his mouth lifting up as he squinted against the sun.

You hesitated, because you weren’t prepared for jokes, and then you shrug. “Yeah, I live here. It’s cozy, shame it’s so close to the freeway.”

He takes a pair of gloves out of his back pocket and you notice his warm, brown sugar eyes take a quick sweep up and down your body. “In that case, I might have to visit more often.”

You also weren’t ready for the teasing, sexual banter, but you could give as well as you got. “Careful. I bite.”

Of course, you don’t have a spare tire, and so the next option is for him to tow you back to his garage. He tells you to get comfortable in the cab of the truck while he hooks your car on.

Inside, you notice that it’s an older cab, but it’s clean and well taken care off. There’s an Iron Maiden sticker on the glove compartment, and a vanilla tree-shaped air freshener hanging from the CB radio. You scoot over, curious as a kitten, to see what other little pieces of his life you can pick up from the area, when you see photo of a little kid, maybe 2 years old, taped to the top of his dash. The toddler had thick dark hair and big, dark eyes, and you realize he must be a dad—the kid looked just like him. You remembered looking at his strong hands before he put his gloves on, and you didn’t see any rings, but most people in his profession chose not to wear them when they worked, as a safety precaution.

He climbed up into the cab behind the steering wheel and took his gloves off, stuffing them in the console between you, apologizing for how long it took. In your mind, he’d only been out there five minutes, but—time flies when you’re being a snoop.

The radio blared loud the second he turned the engine on (Would? by Alice in Chains) and you jumped in your seat, a yelp escaping your throat.

He cringed and turned the volume down. “My bad,” he laughed a little, giving you a wink when you look over at him, your palm flat on your chest, adrenaline coursing through you.

His shop was almost a half hour away, and the conversation stayed light. He asked you what you did for work, and when you told him that you were on staff at a gallery, but you wished you could be a full time artist—he was one of the few people in your whole life who didn’t make fun of you for it.

“You have no idea how much I relate to that,” he said, almost under his breath, shifting the truck into another gear.

You asked him how long he’d been in the area and he replied, “too long.”

He got quiet for a few minutes, and you shifted your eyes covertly to catch his jaw muscles flexing, like he was deep in thought about something he didn’t want to be thinking about.

You adjusted yourself on the vinyl seat with a creak of the upholstery. “So, did you grow up here?”

He opened his mouth for a beat, and then closed it again, as if he didn’t like the answer he was about to give. “I grew up all over the place. But I went to high school here, and then I left, and then I came back.”

You pulled your bottom lip over your top lip, looking out the window at a sea of fat cows grazing in a big, grassy field.

“I’m sure there are worse places to be,” you said aloud, although you meant for it to be a silent thought.

He scoffed. “You must be new here. Give it time.”

He had his hand high on the wheel, and he looked sideways over his arm at you. You could tell he wanted to ask you more, and you wanted to ask the name of the cute kid in the photo on his dash—but it suddenly felt like it was all getting too personal.

There was sudden static on the CB radio and the voice of an older man came through the speaker. “Munson, what’s your 20?”

Eddie reached over to take the handheld receiver off the hook under the glove compartment, the back of his hand brushing your knee as he did so.

He pushed the button on the side as he held it to his mouth. “On I-90, just passed Little River, on my way back.”

He let go of the button so that the other man could speak.

“Charlene dropped the Jaguar off again. Not a damn thing wrong with it, but she asked for you, specifically.”

Eddie swallowed, his eyes shifting to you, as if he was embarrassed or self-conscious about the conversation.

“...I told her I’d bring it by on my way home after work.”

The other end was silent for a bit and then, the older man gave a heavy sigh. “Son, I hope you’re not doing what I think you’re--”

“Talk to you when I get there, Wayne. I’ve got a customer in the cab with me,” and then Eddie hung up the receiver and switched the radio off with a click.

Back at Munson’s Garage you called your best friend, Katie, who you were supposed to meet for lunch, to talk her down from the ledge she was on, panicking over where you were.

“At first, I wanted to murder you, and then--” As Katie is talking, you see Eddie give you a thumbs up from across the garage to let you know the tire was on and your car was ready, and you mirrored the gesture. “...and then I was like, wait, maybe she’s in a ditch somewhere….and you were!”

Like any self-respecting, horny friend would, she asked if the tow truck driver that picked you up was hot while on the phone with you.

You’re watching Eddie pick up two tires and fling them onto a pile like they weighed nothing, muscles flexing in his forearms and hands; he catches you staring and smiles almost accidentally at you over his shoulder, before turning away. “Not really, I mean, if you like that sort of thing, I guess.”

There was a teenage boy at the front desk who looked like he was in training, and with shaking hands, he tallied you up for the price of the tow and the tire.

“Just the tire,” Eddie came up behind him, wiping his fingers on a rag. “The tow is on the house,” he lifts his eyes to you, and then looks down to make sure the kid got it right.

You thanked him, and as you were leaving, you saw the long, sleek, white Jaguar convertible with leather seats parked at the far end of the garage. You wondered who Charlene was, and why she chose that particular garage over all of the other high end, specialty repair shops in the area.

---------

That night, you were snuggled in front of a Golden Girls episode, dissociating in your bathrobe on the couch with your orange, long haired tabby cat named Charlie, when Katie, who was also your roommate, got home after a meeting at the high school where she taught English and creative writing.

“I didn’t get into an accident,” you assured her, turning the sound down on the TV. “I just blew a tire. I’ll still be able to make it to work tomorrow, unfortunately.”

The next night was a huge artist opening at the gallery, and all of the mucky mucks usually attended to buy high priced art and drink free champagne.

“Hey,” you went to the kitchen to squirt some of your cheap, refrigerated box wine into some glasses and brought one over to Katie. “You’ve lived here longer than I have. Do you know a woman named Charlene who drives a super fancy white, Jaguar convertible?”

“Charlene Gregson? The ex-supermodel, the wife of millionaire CEO John Gregson, the ones who just happen to have a summer home near here on the lake?”

You put your wine glass to your lips. “Sure, I mean, I guess. Does she drive a white Jaguar?”

Katie curled up at the other end of the couch and wrapped a blanket over her. “They have a ten car garage at their mansion, so I’m sure she has one in every color.”

“Wait, how do you know this?” You put your elbow on the top of the couch to rest your hand on your fist, squinting at your roommate.

Katie took a big gulp of her wine. “My sister, the one who runs her own carpet cleaning business, she’s been out there. They have these antique rugs that need to be cleaned a certain way.”

“So, she’s married?” You asked, feeling like you’re asking the same question over and over without actually asking it.

Katie shrugs. “As far as I know they still are. I mean, what happened? Did you run into her or something?”

You didn’t feel like retelling the entire debacle, so you trimmed it down a bunch. “I saw that car at the garage when I got my tire fixed, and someone mentioned that it belonged to her.”

Katie gave you a curious look.

You turned and noticed the way she was staring at you. “What?” You laughed as you asked it, turning your gaze back to the TV.

“So,” Katie said, her eyebrow raised. “Forget about Charlene. Tell me more about this tow truck guy. Is he single? Is he tall? Does he have sexy hands?”

You rolled your head to rest it on the back of the sofa. “Do you know a guy named Eddie?”

Katie ran her tongue over her teeth, thinking.

“He drives a tow truck? Works at Munson’s Garage?”

An invisible light bulb seemed to blink on above Katie’s head. “Eddie...Eddie Munson?”

The way she asked it gave you pause; your eyes shifted, and then you shrugged, “I didn’t ask for his last name, but I guess so.”

Katie tilted her head back, eyes wide. “Holy shit, I haven’t seen him around in a minute. He used to sell weed back in the day. I bought some from him a few times when I first moved here after college. But he left town for a year or two, I didn’t know he was back.”

You squished air around in your mouth, puffing your cheeks out as you listened to her. “Well, he’s back. He put a new tire on my car and he didn’t even break a sweat.”

“I remember him being...really hot, in like, a metalhead way,” Katie sipped her wine again. “Does he still have the long hair?”

You nodded, staring at the TV vacantly, picturing him in your mind as clearly as if he were right in front of you. You asked Katie if Eddie had a kid, and she had no idea. “The last time we smoked at his trailer, he was single with no kids, but that was—oh shit---a good 6 years ago.”

The next revelation made Katie jump as she remembered it: “Oh! He was in a band, too. The name had something to do with rust or decay, I never saw him play though, Dan and the rest of his D&D nerd friends worshiped him.” Dan was Katie’s younger brother by two years, and he asked you on a date a while back, but you turned him down, respectfully, being that you didn’t want it to mess with your friendship with Katie.

“That’s his garage, he runs it with his uncle.” Katie corrected your earlier statement. “There’s a rumor that it’s also a clubhouse for the Coffin Kings motorcycle gang, but who knows. In a town like this, there are a lot of rumors.”

You thought about his visible tattoos, including the cluster of bats near his elbow, some kind of monsterous puppet thing on his inner forearm, and there was something spelled out across his fingers, but you couldn’t read what it said.

There is an interlude in your conversation with nothing but canned laughter from the sitcom on TV, and then Katie changes the subject, recalling a dramatic story having to do with one of her colleagues that happened earlier that day.

-------

Eddie waited until everyone was gone before he closed up the garage, noticing that the new kid forgot to sweep the lobby, so he did it himself, mumbling about how it was hard to find good help these days. He had the Jaguar already loaded on the truck, but he needed to wait until after 8 to drop it off at her place.

Charlene was pulling his shirt up and undoing his belt, her mouth on his throat, as soon as she locked the front door behind him. He grabbed onto her wrists and held her in place, forcing her to back up as he walked forward.

There were several Magnum wrappers on the floor by the time he left her there after their final fuck in the shower. He picked up the evidence of their affair and took the wrappers with him, thinking that he couldn’t remember the last time he was with someone he cared about and trusted enough to not use some kind of protection. That same dark voice in his head told him that he’d never get that close to anyone ever again. “Get used to it, buddy. You’ll be alone forever,” the voice snickered.

------

Mrs. John Waterberry, who lived in the house across from Charlene Gregson, grabbed her 78 yr old husband by the arm just as they were getting ready for bed. She could see the tow truck pull up into Charlene’s driveway from their bedroom window.

“That’s five times in two months, John,” Mrs. Waterberry scampered for the binoculars in the desk drawer, putting them to her eyes and pointing them at the house. “Who on earth needs to have their brand new car towed that often?”

John Waterberry fussed to put his glasses back on and watched the big, black truck lower the delicate, expensive Jaguar to the ground with care. “I don’t give a damn, Louisa, let’s go to bed.”

Behind her, John got into bed and turned the lamp by the bed off, but Mrs. Waterberry hid behind the curtain and watched as the strange tattooed boy with the long hair went over and knocked at the front door. When Charlene answered, she was in her a skimpy bathrobe!

“John!” Mrs. Waterberry called to her husband. “She invited him inside again! I told you! Her husband away on a golfing trip and now this.”

“It’s none of our business, Louisa,” John mumbled, turning over on his side, facing away from her.

Mrs. Waterford ended up falling asleep, but her eyes snapped open when she heard the low grumble of the tow truck starting up again. She looked at the digital alarm clock on the nightstand: it was almost 1:00 in the morning.

------

Eddie popped a cigarette into his mouth and rolled the window down, turning his music up in the cab of the tow truck as soon as he was out of the gated lake community. (Black No. 1 – Type O Negative)

"I went looking for trouble, and boy, I found her,

she's in love with herself

she likes the dark

and on her milk white neck

the Devil's mark..."

He should’ve been feeling good, but the frown on his face was giving him a headache, his body telling his mind there was something wrong. He happened to catch a flicker out of the corner of his eye and turned to see a shiny sliver of something on the floorboard of his truck. He made sure there were no cars around and bent down to stretch his hand out and swoop it up. It was an earring; a little silver hoop, and he realized, with sigh, that it must’ve belonged to the woman he had in his truck earlier that day. The one who worked at an art gallery and didn’t have a spare tire in her car. The one with cute, quirky mannerisms and the beautiful eyes.

He sped up and shifted into the next gear, cigarette between his lips, and slipped the earring into his front pocket.

Finally back at the garage, Eddie parked the truck and opened the side door to get his bike. After a wide straddle and a few kicks of his foot, the Harley started up with a growl, loud pipes spitting, his hand with the metal rings twisting on the high handlebar. He had a gig with his band the next evening, but not until after he escorted Charlene to her function and pretended to be her body guard. The whole town had to know they were fucking; he had a hard time believing they were all so morbidly clueless.

While he shot down the highway on his chopper with the wind in his face, he reached over to feel for the outline of your earring in his pocket, and realized with a tiny flutter in his gut, that he had a valid excuse to look you up and see you again.

Part 2

#eddie munson smut #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson #eddie munson stranger things #stranger things #stranger things smut #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson series #fem reader

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ereardon · 2 months

Text

His Best Friend's Wedding Epilogue [Bradley Bradshaw x Reader]

Overview: Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw has been your best friend for a decade. He’s also your fiancé’s best man. So when he shows up at your hotel room the night before your wedding, it’s just because he’s your friend, right?

Pairing: Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x Reader

Chapter summary: Two years after confessing the night before your wedding that he was in love with you, Bradley is faced with major changes – your divorce, and the birth of your child. You have a confession for him: you always loved him, too.

Warnings: Angst, pregnancy, childbirth, mention of cheating, alcohol, violence

See the full masterlist for the miniseries here

WC: 4.5K

You stood in the doorway, hand frozen in midair. Fear tightened your chest.

How many times had you knocked on Bradley’s door before? Mostly you let yourself in, key slipped in the lock as seamlessly as if it were your own house. The bungalow was warm and inviting and you knew practically every turn, every creaky hardwood plank, every scratch on the wall.

The dent on your ring finger stared back at you as your hand hovered an inch from the wood door. It felt odd. Bare. And while at first, the rings had felt heavy, like an omen, you were surprised to find that the absence of them didn’t feel light or freeing.

It felt like homeostasis.

After a moment, your fingers landed against the soft wood of the door. It opened instantly. Bradley’s warm eyes met yours.

You looked up.

“Come inside, Ace.”

***

Bradley watched you kiss Jeremy on the altar. He had to sit there and give his best man speech at the wedding even though his hands shook the entire time and he couldn’t look either of you in the eye. He felt the prickle of jealousy and anger under the collar of his tux as you and Jeremy ran through the crowd toward the vintage convertible your father had lent the two of you as your getaway car.

Through gritted teeth, Bradley watched the milestones in your life from a short distance. Photos of your honeymoon in Tahiti. Your first house as a married couple.

He was there the day the stick turned pink.

Jeremy, as it turns out, was on assignment. You called Bradley without a second thought. “Brad,” you whispered into the phone. “Come over.”

He could hear the anxiety in your voice. He was in his car before he even had time to tie his shoes, driving the familiar route without really seeing it. He could find his way to you with his eyes closed.

You were sitting on the edge of the bathtub when he arrived, barreling through the door without knocking, shoving into the bathroom. The door flung open. He dropped down to kneel in front of you.

“Ace?”

You smiled gently. “I couldn’t do this on my own.” You pointed to the test, wrapped up on the counter. Bradley sucked in a breath. He had known this was coming. You and Jeremy had been married for two years. You had always wanted a family.

“Want me to open it?” he asked. You nodded. Bradley reached for the rest, rotating the plastic wrapper in his hands, pinching the plastic end with his large fingertips before pulling it slowly out of the sheath, reading the tiny white oval face.

“Brad?” you whispered. Every nerve in your body was on fire. Fear bubbled in your chest.

He smiled softly. “You’re going to be an amazing mom.”

You sagged and Bradley caught you immediately, the two of you crouched on the bathroom floor, your arms flung around Bradley’s neck, his fingertips pressing tightly against your skin. He could feel your tears soaking the cotton of his shirt where your face was scrunched against his shoulder, but he didn’t care. He had never cared. He knew they were tears of joy.

Bradley was the first person you called for most things. The day you got a flat tire on I-5 headed to Santa Clarita for a girls trip. The time you twisted an ankle at the grocery store and he showed up fifteen minutes later with a pair of flat shoes and an ice pack.

Bradley was the person you called when everything went to hell with Jeremy.

“I can’t fucking do this anymore!” you screamed, throwing a cup across the room, letting it shatter into a million pieces.

Jeremy’s face was hard like stone. “You’re being insane, Y/N,” he said.

“Insane? Insane?” You whipped around to face him, cheeks red with anger. “You’re gone all the time, Jer. You don’t answer your phone. I hear from other wives that you’re hanging out at bars on the base with random people including women I don’t know. How do you think that makes me feel?”

“That’s the fucking job, Y/N. I’m a Naval lieutenant commander. I have responsibilities. I have duties. I have people I owe my life to.”

“To me!” you shouted. “You owe your life to me, Jer! We stood up in front of three hundred people and promised ourselves to each other. Our time, our energy, our commitment.”

“I’m in the military, babe, I have commitments.”

You shook your head, tears flooding your eyes. “Maybe you’re the kind of man who can only have one.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“It means,” you whispered, “that maybe I’m not your top priority anymore.”

Jeremy was silent. His silence said more than words ever could.

You wiped at your tears. “I’m going out.”

“When will you be back?”

“Maybe I won’t.”

“Don’t you fucking do that,” he said and there was ice in his words. “Don’t you fucking throw all of this away.”

“You’re the one throwing it away,” you said, opening the door. “I’m just following your lead.”

***

Bradley hated when you showed up at his door, tears in your eyes, an overnight bag packed and sitting at your side.

He hated it more when you didn’t show up at all. Because that meant he was just one more step from losing you, all over again.

The night that you found out about the baby, with Jeremy overseas, you asked Bradley to stay at the house. The two of you sat on the floor in front of the coffee table, Buddy your rescue labrador’s head buried in Bradley’s lap, one of his large hands stroking the dog's velvety ears.

“Brad?” you asked, leaning your head against one hand, elbow pressed against the overstuffed sofa cushion.

“Hmm?”

“We don’t talk about it,” you said.

“Talk about what?”

“The wedding,” you whispered. “Everything that happened the night before.”

Bradley’s eyes widened. It had been two years, four months, and sixteen days. He had thought about it every single day since he watched you float down the aisle toward him, only to say yes to Jeremy. You were still the first thing he thought of when he woke up and the last thing on his mind as he drifted off to sleep.

“I’m sorry,” you said. “I shouldn’t have brought it up.”

“I still love you,” Bradley said and you sucked in a breath. That felt like a punch to the gut. You placed one hand over your stomach, which he misinterpreted. “I’m sorry,” he added. “I know you belong to Jer. And I want you to be happy, Ace. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.” He paused. “I know you have everything you could ever want now. Maybe I don’t fit in to your life anymore.”

“Don’t say that.” You were on your knees, wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling him into a hug. Buddy grunted and squeezed out from between the two of you, sulking off to his bed in the corner. You felt Bradley’s hands, warm, tighten on your back. He felt like coming home. “You will always fit into my life. Always. No matter what.”

“I thought you’d hate me,” he whispered. “For saying all of that to you before the wedding.”

You pulled back, tears in your eyes. “Bradley Bradshaw. I will never hate you a day in my life.”

***

Your bare hand fell to your stomach, warm and round and hard, as you stood awkwardly in the foyer of Bradley’s house.

He stood with his arms dangling at his sides. “So.”

This wasn’t the reunion you wanted. You weren’t sure what you wanted. For everything to disappear. For the last decade to be erased.

To have chosen Bradley that night in that Annapolis dive bar instead of Jeremy.

You stepped closer. “I left.”

“Ace,” he whispered.

You shook your head. “For good. He signed the papers.” You swallowed the lump in your throat. “It’s over.”

“Oh.” Bradley could barely breathe. He was afraid of moving, in case it was all a dream and you faded away into the background, out of his grasp.

“Brad,” you whispered, reaching out, putting one hand against his cheek, soft cool skin against his warm flesh. You could feel the grittiness of his stubble beneath your fingertips. “I was wrong to choose Jeremy. At the wedding. That first night at the bar. Every night since.”

“What are you saying, Y/N?” he murmured.

“I’m saying I’m sorry,” you said quietly. “I’m saying that I still love you.”

***

The day it all came to a head was a year after the wedding. You and Bradley were in the living room when Jeremy stomped in, eyes wide with rage. He held up a credit card bill in one hand.

“Y/N.” His voice boomed along the walls. You cowered. “What the fuck?”

“What’s going on?” Bradley’s mouth was pulled into a tight line.

“None of your business, Bradshaw,” Jeremy spat. “This is between me and my wife.”

“Don’t like the tone you’re taking, Jer.” You were thankful for Bradley in that moment.

Jeremy stepped closer. You could smell the sharp acidity of alcohol on his breath. “I said, back off, Bradshaw. This is between me and Y/N.” He turned to you. “What the fuck is this charge?”

“What charge?”

“This.” He shoved the paper right beneath your nose. “Some hotel in Miami.”

You rolled your eyes. “That was for Kelly’s bachelorette.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Don't lie to me.”

“Why the fuck would I lie to you?” you demanded. “You’re the one who cheats in this relationship, not me.”

You never saw his hand shoot out. But it didn’t land on your cheek like it was meant to. Instead, faster than you could even see, Bradley stepped between the two of you, Jeremy’s slap landing across his face. Bradley’s left arm wrapped back around you, making sure you were tucked safely behind him.

A quietness enveloped the room.

And then Bradley’s voice. “Y/N,” he said gruffly. “Get in the car.”

“I—”

“Get in the car,” he repeated. You backed up, eyes on the two of them as you grabbed your phone and made your way for the door.

As you were slipping your shoes on, you heard Bradley’s voice. Low and harsh. You had never heard him sound like that before.

“You ever, I mean ever, lay a fucking hand on her, next time you see me I’ll be standing over your grave,” Bradley hissed.

Jeremy’s shoulders sagged. They were practically brothers. But there was something definitive about Bradley’s tone. “Baby, I didn’t mean–”

“Get yourself together, Jer,” Bradley said, turning, his eyes falling on you. “You don’t deserve her.”

***

“What happened?” Bradley whispered.

You felt your shoulders droop. “I left him,” you said. “We both know I had to.” Your hands fell to your stomach: bloated, uncomfortable, eight months wide. “For me. And her. Or him.”

Bradley ran one hand over his face, pulling at the small creases near the sides of his eyes. “Ace. I’m sorry. Fuck, I’m so sorry.”

“I’m not.” You looked at the living room. “Can I sit? I’m huge.”

“Oh, God, of course.” Bradley rushed to throw a pillow and blanket from the couch and make room for you. He held your hand, easing you down onto the couch.

“I’m sorry it took so long to realize,” you said as Bradley settled into the seat next to you, his brown eyes warm and wide.

“Realize what?”

“I think you know.”

***

“You’re making a mistake.” Bradley was drunk, and so were you. The diamond on your left hand glittered under the dim light outside the bar where the two of you had bummed stray cigarettes from one of the barbacks in the alley.

“What, this?” you asked, flicking the cigarette as ash fluttered to the ground. “I’m so fucking hammered I won’t remember this tomorrow so it doesn’t really count, right?”

He shook his head, dropping the cigarette and stomping it out beneath one foot. “Marrying Jeremy.”

You sucked in a breath. Too hard, choking on smoke. Bradley slapped your back, his fingertips warm across your bare skin, until you could breathe normally. You frowned up at him. “What’s gotten into you?”

“He’s not good enough,” he said.

“What the hell?” you demanded. “It’s been eight years, Bradley. You waited eight years to tell me that you think I shouldn’t marry him?”

“I told you from day one,” he said, “that you were better off without him.”

“This is cruel.” A tear slid from your eye and you felt the edge of the cigarette burning your skin. Instead of dropping it, you let the heat invade your fingertip. It wasn’t the only thing on fire. “You’re doing this to hurt me.”

“Ace,” he whispered. “No. I’m doing this to keep you from getting hurt.”

“The only thing that’s hurting me is you, Bradley.” You dropped the cigarette, letting it tumble to the ground, watching Bradley’s face fall alongside it. You stepped out of the light and into the shadows, disappearing into the night.

***

The lights were hot. Your dress felt too tight and itchy. Jeremy’s hands were slick with sweat as the two of you twirled around the dance floor, messing up your choreographed dance not once but twice. You tried to laugh it off but it felt like an omen. No matter how much practice, you still couldn’t get it right.

After a while, the song flowed into the next and other couples flooded the dance floor.

A hand appeared on Jeremy’s shoulder. He turned, Bradley’s face hovering over his shoulder. “May I cut in?”

Jeremy nodded, smile wide, innocence across his face. He had no idea that twenty-four hours before, his best friend had been confessing his love for you.

He had no idea that you hesitated on that altar.

“Of course.” Jeremy let his fingertips drop from your waist. He planted a kiss, chaste, on your lips. “Be good, babe. You’re a married woman now.” He turned to Bradley with a grin. “All yours, Bradshaw.”

Bradley’s hands were warm. He guided you confidently in a loose circle around the dance floor. There was an effortless confidence to the way Bradley danced. But it wasn’t only dancing. There was confidence in everything about him. You trusted him, with everything.

“Ace,” he said quietly.

You looked up. “Don’t,” you whispered. “Let’s just dance, OK? There’s nothing else to say.”

“OK.”

You leaned your head against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath his tux. When you closed your eyes, everything else — the lights, the music, the heat — faded away.

It was just the sound of his heart beating in your ear, guiding you in the darkness.

***

“You can stay here,” Bradley said, standing up. “For as long as you want.”

You frowned. “I can’t ask you to do that. The baby is coming any day now. It’ll keep you awake, day and night.”

“Your snoring does that already.”

It was the first air of mirth in the conversation. You grinned. “Shut up.”

Bradley’s mouth returned to its set shape, a thin line. “I’ll get the guest room ready for you.”

“Brad.” You were on your feet, wobbling. He reached out instinctively, one hand on your arm, balancing you. “I don’t think you’re hearing me.”

“I am,” he replied. “But you got divorced, what, fifteen minutes ago? I’ve waited fifteen years for you, Ace. I can wait another day or two or one hundred. I need to know that I’m not your backup. That I’m not just your plan B when everything else goes to shit.”

“You’re not.”

“I need to know that you actually want me,” he said quietly. “Because there’s nothing I want more in this world than you.”

***

For three weeks, you slept in Bradley’s guest room. Sleeping was an exaggeration of what you were actually doing, which was grunting and turning over like a beached whale every five minutes, and going to the bathroom in between.

And then, in the middle of the night, you felt it.

“Brad!” you yelled. The door flung open a second later, shirtless Bradley standing in the doorway, the hallway light illuminating him from behind, hair a mess, eyes wide.

“What?”

You looked up with glee. “It’s happening. The baby’s coming.”

The entire drive to the hospital, Bradley was death gripping the wheel. He looked so terrified that the nurses took one look at him and laughed before showing you to the L&D room. He paced across the room a thousand times as you went through all of the checks, breathed through the contractions, winced as they inserted your IV.

“Bradley,” you said, tossing your head back against the flat pillow. “You need to stop. You’re making me sick.”

“Fuck, sorry.” He sat down on the chair, bouncing his knee. “Honey? I gotta ask.”

“Hmm?”

“Should I call Jeremy?”

The two of you hadn’t spoken since the divorce was finalized. But Bradley had a point. Jeremy was, technically, the baby’s father. He deserved to know. “Yeah. I guess.”

“I’ll be right back.” He slipped out of the room and you laid back against the bed, eyes pressed shut.

The pain started to increase and by the time Bradley returned you were sweating.

“Ace? Should I call the nurse?”

You shook your head. “No, I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“You know what I mean,” he said. “You’re the most beautiful woman that ever existed.”

“Even now?”

He grinned. “Especially now.”

Your fingertips closed around his, just as the door pressed open. Jeremy stood in the doorway with a bouquet of flowers. His eyes immediately landed on your fingers intertwined with Bradley’s. He stepped inside, setting the flowers down on the table against the wall. “Y/N.”

“Jer.”

“I’ll be outside,” Bradley said, letting his fingers slip away. You nodded. He gave Jeremy a wide berth. You frowned. The two of them had been so close. You had even watched them kiss each other once while drunk and as part of a draft bet. But there was an icy wall that surrounded the two of them now.

All three of you.

Jeremy sat in the chair that Bradley had vacated. He reached up to put his hand on your stomach and you let him. Under the fluorescent lights, his gold ring glinted.

“How are you?” he asked.

“Uncomfortable.”

“Did they give you the epidural yet?”

“No,” you replied. “And I wasn’t just talking about the labor.”

He let out a sigh. “Listen, Y/N, I fucked up. I know that. But this is our baby.” Jeremy paused. “No matter what happened between us, I want to be a part of this child’s life.”

“You’re the baby’s father,” you said. “Of course you’ll be in their life.”

Jeremy paused. “And Bradshaw?”

“What about him?”

He cocked his head to one side. “So you two are a thing?”

Your eyes widened. “What? No.”

“Y/N.”

“He’s my best friend. He’s always been my best friend.”

“And mine,” Jeremy reminded you. “So trust me when I say, there were always three people in this marriage. And I was the odd one out.”

“Nothing ever happened,” you whispered. “Not while we were married.”

“But after?” he asked.

You grimaced. “Before. New Orleans. The wedding you couldn’t make.”

He nodded. “I guess a part of me always knew. I had hoped you’d pick me. And you did, for a while. But you were always his.”

“I wanted to be yours,” you whispered. “I was yours. And you blew it.”

“I know.” Jeremy’s head hung low. He looked up at you through those dark lashes. “I should have stepped aside that first night, at the bar in Annapolis. I saw how he looked at you. But I wanted you for myself. And I never was good at turning down an opportunity.”

“You are both going to be in my life,” you said. “Because you’re both in this baby’s life. So you’ll have to find a way to work it out.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Me too.”

“Do you want me to stay?” he asked. Six months before, you would have scoffed at the thought that Jeremy wouldn’t be there for the birth of his child. But that was then.

Everything had changed. You shook your head slowly, watching the color drain from Jeremy’s face. “I’ll call you after,” you whispered. “I just think this is something I have to do alone.”

His face hardened. “But you’re not going to be alone, are you? Bradshaw will be here.”

“Don’t be jealous of Bradley.”

“It’s only fair,” he replied, standing up. “Bradshaw was jealous of me for the last fifteen years. I guess it’s my turn to be jealous.”

“Jer.”

He turned from where he stood at the doorway. His eyes roamed over you and you knew he was letting it all sink in. This was the last time he would ever look at you and see you carrying his child inside your womb. “Yeah, baby?”

“I hope it’s a girl,” you confessed.

“If she’s just like you, then we’ll be the luckiest parents in the world.”

***

“You got this, Ace. You’re doing amazing.”

Bradley’s hand was being slowly crushed in your death grip. He pushed a few sweaty strands of hair out of your face. “I can’t do it,” you groaned, leaning back against the pillows. “Bowling ball-sized heads are not supposed to come out of your hooha. It’s just physics.”

He chuckled. “I’m sorry, honey, but I think it’s a little late to turn around.”

“I feel like I’m shitting out a block of explosives. Now I know what those fucking prisoners at Alcatraz felt like trying to dig their way out with spoons.”

Bradley smirked at your side as the nurses around your ankles giggled. “At least you’re funny right now.”

“Well you can be funny or hot and considering I have a baby wedged in my pelvis I would say I’m not exactly Bachelorette material right now.”

“You’re doing great.”

You squeezed Bradley’s hand, so tight his mustache twitched, but he didn’t complain. “Promise me something,” you gasped.

“Anything.”

“You’ll never leave us.”

He frowned. “Of course not.”

“Swear it.”

“Ace.” He leaned in close, your faces only a few inches apart. “I haven’t stopped thinking of you since the night we met fifteen years ago. That’s not going to change anytime soon.”

You looked at him. “OK. I’m ready.”

“It’s time to push.” The doctor at the end of the bed slid on a pair of gloves. “Y/N, give me a big breath and then a push, OK?”

You bared down, gripping Bradley’s hand. Hard. You had fought for a lot of things in your life. A spot on the volleyball team in high school. Your MBA program. Your marriage. But this was a fight you had been preparing for.

The moment the doctor held your screaming, crying daughter into the air, you burst into tears. She was covered in goo and wailing like a banshee and she was the most magnificent thing you had ever laid eyes on.

They placed her on your chest, eyes scrunched shut, covered in blood and a number of other things but all you could do was stare at her in awe.

“Would you like to cut the cord?” The doctor held up a pair of medical scissors. Bradley looked at you with wide eyes, waiting for permission. You nodded and he took the silver scissors in his large hands, practically shaking as she showed him how to cut the spongy cord.

In your arms, your daughter squirmed. She was so impossibly small. And soft. The nurses took her away for a few minutes to run tests and wipe her off, and by the time you had her back in your arms the rest of the staff had cleared out of the room.

You looked up at Bradley who hadn’t stopped staring at her since the moment she was born.

“Brad?” He lifted his gaze to you, eyebrows raised. “Would you like to hold her?”

He looked pale and nervous, but excited as you carefully shifted her into his arms as the two of you sat side-by-side on the hospital bed. She looked even smaller when cradled against Bradley’s chest. He held her tiny feet in one hand, stroking them slowly, her small mouth in a rounded “o” but no sound came out. There was a feeling of content to being in Bradley’s arms.

You knew it well.

“She’s perfect,” he whispered. “Have you picked a name?”

You smiled. “Yes. Carolina. Carol for short.”

When Bradley looked up, there was a glassy sheen to his brown eyes. You watched as his lips beneath his mustache trembled. “Thank you.”

“Marry me.” It spilled out of your mouth.

“Ace.” It was a whisper. Thin and pained. “Honey.”

You shook your head. “I’m serious. Marry me. It’s always been you, Roo. Even when it wasn’t.”

“You just had a baby,” he whispered. “You’re emotional and tired and it’s only been two months since the divorce.”

“I know what I’m saying.” You looked down at your daughter. “She needs you in her life. Just as much as I do.”

Bradley brushed his thumb along her forehead. “She’s half you. Which means she’s half me, too. You’ve owned a piece of me, Y/N, since the night we met.”

“So marry me.”

“Don’t you need time to think?” he asked. “Don’t you need to heal? Find yourself? All that crap people talk about. Dye your hair purple. Go to Italy and meet some douchebag and learn how to fly helicopters and sell your house and buy a condo downtown.”

You smiled at him softly. “You asked me once, on a very important night, if he made me as happy as you make me. And the truth is, Brad, there’s only one other person who makes me as happy as you. And she’s sitting right there against your chest.” As if on cue, Carolina cooed in Bradley’s arms. “All I know is that I wasted fifteen years without ever really having you. I don’t want to waste another minute.”

Gently, Bradley stood, placing your daughter into the bassinet next to the bed. He laid her down gently, hovering over her delicate body, making sure she didn’t fuss, before leaning over you, one large hand pushing back the hair that had fallen into your face. “I’ll marry you today, tomorrow, next year, in fifty years. As long as I know you’re mine.”

“I’m yours,” you whispered as Bradley inched nearer, his lips grazing yours. “Today. Tomorrow. Forever.”

His lips sealed around yours. For the first time in your life, you felt whole.

Note: Special thanks to anyone who read parts 1 and 2 when I posted them last year. I got an itch to write an epilogue to this, hopefully it lives up! xx

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aestas666 · 11 months

Text

The Interview [K. Hammett]

pairings: kirk hammett/female! reader

warning/s: smut, inappropriate language. MINORS DNI

-request via message of the reader interviewing kirk! (REQUESTS OPEN)

5:00 AM

That’s what the clock read as I blinked my eyes groggily. My body was still numb from sleep. The hours rushed by so fast it was as if I never slept.

“God, I have an interview.” I thought as I rose from the soft duvet and headed toward the kitchen to make myself some coffee. I glanced at my apartment windows noticing the still dark sky. As the coffee maker softly hummed in the background, I pulled out my papers to look back into the history of the band I would interview later on.

METALLICA

That’s what was written as the headliner of the article I was reading in huge bold text.

Hopping into the shower I was rehearsing my questions, I had none prepared. That was the point of our brand. We intend to make things come up naturally and we invest on making sure we knew who we were talking to flat out.

“Should I look up a photo of them?” ... Shaking my head, I thought an element of surprise would be good.

After the shower I hurriedly rushed to my closet. “Should I dress in black? I mean- they’re a metal band. Am I supposed to look the part?” All these questions rushed in. I really should have prepared more the day before. I pulled out some black button long sleeves and some denim shorts with a black studded belt.

Downing the coffee in one go, I grabbed the keys of my car and rushed to the venue. It was in some room of the arena they were performing in. Call time was at 7:00 and it’s already 6:48.

Parking was easy, the lot was huge. I found myself running to the arena and into a hallway. Stopping at a door with 1507 written at the front.

I took a deep breath in and entered. The crew was in already. 2 guys named Michael and Jim.

As soon as I walked in Jim (the cameraman) hit record.

Only one guy was sitting on the chair, I looked back at Michael in confusion as he just nodded at me to go on.

“Oh, um hi-” I extended my hand over the table as I took a seat down in front of him.

“Kirk. Kirk Hammett. Yeah, it’s just me, the guys are still sleeping.” He laughed softly as he shook my hand.

“Yeah sure, that’ll be fine. We could start the one-on-one interview now if you’d like?”

“Oh for sure yeah, you guys are the Ride or Die people, right? How does this work?” He looked at me with intent as I waved off Jim to stop filming.

“Yup that’s us. Basically, we ask general questions. Some fan questions that could get a liiitle too personal can come up and you have to answer honestly. That’s our whole gig.” He nodded, his mouth making a small “o”.

“This’ll be interesting for sure. Never expected a cute girl from a name like Ride or Die actually.” His comment made me heat up; I mean. This man was gorgeous, he had such nice curls and an adorable smile. There was so much I wanted to-

“Hey. Are we starting?” Jim interrupted my thoughts as Kirk looked back at me, amused.

“Ah yeah- sorry. Start rolling.” He hit the record button as I once again extended my hand to the guitarist.

“(Y/N)”

“Pretty name, I’m uh. Kirk.” He grinned at the camera almost awkwardly.

“Renowned guitarist of Metallica. Wow it truly is an honor. How are you doing today, Kirk?”

“Haven’t had breakfast, the boys are sleeping, it’s 7:00 AM. I’m pretty good.” We both shared a laugh as we finished up some questions on the album, the band’s touring and his thoughts on the city.

“Now for the fun part. Fan questions. I’ve gathered some questions they are dying to know.” I enunciated the ‘dying’, watching him suddenly turn to stifle a small laugh.

“I’m kinda scared to be honest. They could get a little crazy.”

“You’ll be fine! This one is from Kacey, and she wants to know what your type in groupies are.” I cocked a brow at his furrowed ones.

“Wow. This one’ll need some deep thought.” He looked up as if he was reflecting.

“Probably someone like her.” He nodded at me as I held my chest in pretend shock.

“I look like a groupie?”

“You’d look good as one.” It was Michael's turn to chuckle as the camera whipped to him and I shot him a look.

“Who was the last person you had in bed?” I continued.

“Jesus. At least get me some breakfast first, wow.” He rubbed his face in embarrassment as he went on “Come with me and it could be you.”

“God I would.”

“What was that?” He shot me a look as if in shock.

“Huh?”

“You said you would. You’ve got some honesty there Ms. Interviewer.” He leaned in my direction as I mouthed a “cut that out” to Michael, who just rolled his eyes at me.

“This is the last question.” I stated as he clasped his hands together, awaiting.

“What place do you want to visit most?”

“Back to serious ones huh. Hawaii. It just looks so relaxing y’know.”

“Well. Thanks Kirk. That’s all.” I glanced back at the 2 men who hurriedly sorted their gear back into place.

“Yeah, the rest of the band probably isn’t going to wake up any sooner.” Kirk called out to me as I rose from my seat to leave.

“Ah yeah that’s fine. I could come back some other time.” I put the notes I had back in my bag.

“I was serious by the way. I think you’re gorgeous.” My heart was suddenly pounding, I looked back to see both Jim and Michael gone.

“Thanks, Kirk. You look goo..d” I mentally face palmed. I was dead nervous, and it was more than obvious.

“I don’t bite (Y/N). Come here.” He rose from the seat and approached me. He was taller, by some inches. He smelled like tobacco and a few hints of spearmint.

“I’m sure you don’t.” I backed up toward a couch just at the end of the room.

“Relax. I’ll take care of you. Sit down.” He motioned toward the couch as he knelt on the ground.

“Tell me. Do you want this?”

Only a sicko wouldn’t want this. He was knelt before me and I just wanted to scream. “Yes please.” He grabbed my calves from the bottom as he softly trailed them on top of my knees. “Remove your shorts.” Quickly removing my belt, I looked away in embarrassment, I was still wearing my underwear and I was already flustered. Christ. “Pink panties? Thanks for dressing up for the interview I guess.” Kirk grinned, his fingers clasping at both sides and dragging the underwear down.

“Hey. I could stop anytime.” His brown eyes bore into mine as I shook my head with a clear no.

His rough hands caressed my thighs, opening my legs further. “You’re so wet already.” He dragged a finger down my slit and back up. Resting a hand on my stomach he licked a stripe and gave a coy smile at my flustered face. “Do you want me to stop?” His voice was almost a whisper as the pounding in my ears increased.

He stood up and leaned toward me to give a kiss, his lips were soft and wet and strangely tasted like mint. Grabbing my waist, he sat next to me and pulled me up to his lap as he continued to feather my neck with small kisses.

I lifted my hips as he unzipped his pants and pulled out his cock, he raised his hand to gather the slick from my cunt and pumped himself, his breath hitching.

“Are you ready?”

“Yes, please.” I breathed out as he gently placed both his hands on my hips and lowered my body to his tip. “Fuck.” He moaned out, stretching me as I whined at the foreign feeling. My eyes squeezed shut while he whispered reassuring words, dragging his other hand on the back of my head and pulling me closer.

“It’s alright sweet girl, move when you’re ready.”

I rested my head on his shoulder as I raised my hips up slightly and started moving at a slow pace. Gaining the courage as I got used to the pressure, he met my bounces with a hard thrust each time. I moved my head up to look at him. His hair stuck at the sweat of his forehead and his blown eyes focused on his cock pounding my cunt.

He flipped me over and was now on top, still pounding, chasing his high. My legs were over his arms now as I gasped at the new position. Placing his thumb on my clit, he rubbed small circles, his jaw slack. My eyebrows furrow as I feel my orgasm rushing. “C’mon, baby.” He leaned to kiss me again, suppressing my soft moans.

“Fuck, Kirk. I’m close.” My eyes started to tear up as his pace quickened. He’s hitting my sweet spot over and over as I choked a moan and felt my body tense and slacken at my release.

“Your pussy feels so fucking good. I’m close, baby.” He rambled as he rammed into me, and I felt him fill me up after his thrusts.

He pulled out as I swallowed at the feeling of loss. He knelt in front of me between my legs and laid his head on my stomach, breathless.

“Wanna interview me again sometime?” He looked up with the same cheeky grin.

“I’ll think about it.”

#kirk #kirk hammett #kirk hammett fic #kirk hammett x reader #kirk hammett smut #metallica #metallica fic #metallica smut #kirk hammett x you #metallica imagine #kirk hammett imagine

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