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beardedjoel · 5 months

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smother - part iii: compliance

dark!joel x f!reader

series masterlist | main masterlist | ao3 | kofi

summary: the deeper you fall into his trap, the further you start to lose a sense of what you really want. 10.4k words chapter warnings: 18+ MDNI! noncon, nonconsensual touching, dubcon - reader eventually enthusiastically consents but the syndrome is stockholming so its dubcon, coercion, reader is a virgin, big juicy age gap (reader is 19, joel is late 40s), ddlg (no infantilization of reader) daddy!dom joel is coming out to play this chapter, fingering, handjob, joel's corruption kink confirmed here, joel is both mean (hurts reader briefly) and sweet once again, if these darker tags aren't your cup of tea please keep scrolling! a/n: oh we're SO back with some smut this chapter! this story has me pushing my own limits on creativity and stuff and that has really been rewarding so far, i love it and i love dark!joel. anyhoooo please enjoy my lovelies 🤍 reminder i have no taglist anymore! follow @beardedjoel-updates and turn on notifs for when i post there!

It’s okay it’s okay it’s okay…

Joel’s words echo in your ear from where they were whispered moments ago as he pressed himself into you from behind, urging you up the stairs towards his bedroom. One hand gripped firmly on your upper arm, the other on the small of your back, fingers exploring along your bare skin. You turn back once more with worried, widened eyes as you reach the top of the steps and he presses against you again, nearly pushing you.

“I got ya, sugar” he says quietly, stopping for a moment to nuzzle into your neck before pushing you along. The new pet name he’s trying out makes you blink a few times, half liking the sweet implication. His deep breath in and out tickles your skin and you suddenly feel itchy from his facial hair scratching there. Panic claws its way up from your stomach, suddenly unsure of everything, like you’re just snapping out of the stupor you were in from Joel’s lips.

Joel had made you feel good downstairs just moments ago, giving you that first, unforgettable kiss. It was so much more hungry and wet and passionate than you’d ever envisioned a kiss being, and it made you feel even more anxious that you truly were out of your depth here.

You’ve managed in your fog to pad your way to Joel’s bedroom with him close behind you, his heat seeping into your skin, his body close enough to morph right into yours. He spins you immediately to face him and starts to kiss you again the moment you’re inside his bedroom. After just a moment of surprise, you fall right back into it, his tongue dancing a perfect rhythm against yours and you whimper and moan quietly. You find your body wanting to be closer closer closer to him so you wrap your arms around his neck, fingers grazing right against the curls at the base of his neck.

Joel pulls back to smile down at you, a wicked thing as his eyes glint before he dives back in. He’s devouring you, hands all over your body as if he doesn’t know which spot to get enough of next. He’s suddenly lifting you up, large palms spread underneath your thighs as he hoists you up against him, carrying you so that you don’t have a chance to stop him from bringing you to his bed.

That same bed you’d seen him just hours earlier, the moment that had started this fucked up chain of events you’d fallen into.

“There we go, jus’ relax,” Joel coos as he lays you down flat, your head right against the mattress. He climbs on top of you, trapping you completely before his lips smash into yours again. He’s taking now, giving you no room to push back or speak as his tongue laps into your mouth over and over, hearty groans escaping him. Sounds that a famished man makes eating his favorite meal. It makes you shudder, the way you’ve started to feel like his meal, like something he could just enjoy and toss away the scraps he leaves afterwards.

“Christ, so fuckin’ innocent, sugar. I’ll teach you so many things to do w’that tongue,” he comments slyly after you hesitantly try to use your tongue in the same way as he was. Joel’s lips drag down your chin to your neck and start to suck on various spots, a little soft at first to test you but more hurried and rough the longer he goes. His body grinds against yours a bit and you lay back, feeling breathless. Your body burns and burns as he marks you and moves against you, your thighs aching all the way to the apex.

You squirm a little bit, a foreign discomfort completely taking over, and Joel pulls back to look down at you. He strokes the side of your head from your forehead all the way back, looking at you with warmer eyes.

“Gonna be okay, I’ll show ya how good you can feel…” he murmurs as his fingers start to trace along your bottom lip. “Now I’m gonna peek at a little more of ya,” he announces before sliding down your tense body, straddling your legs before hooking his fingers in your sweatpants. They’re down and shoved off your legs before you can even process it, leaving you in just a pair of plain white panties. His eyes roam up every inch of your body, white heat flickering low in your belly at the way Joel looks at you.

“Now that’s a sight…” He smirks, sliding his hands up your thighs to rest on your hips, treating each spot he touches with a new reverence. You’ve started to tremble a little, the chilly air biting at you along with this vulnerable feeling, being so exposed.

“Y-you like the way I look?” you ask tentatively, having to clear your throat from lack of use. Your sudden urge for validation from him strikes you hard and you silently curse yourself.

Joel smiles at the unexpected question from you and gives you a singular nod. “‘Course I do. You’re real beautiful, sweetheart. ‘Specially like this.” His eyes land between your legs as he says the last words, licking his lips out of habit. He slinks up next to you, laying close to you and wrapping an arm around you, enveloping you in everything Joel.

“Now don’t ya feel safe here like this? Got me right here holdin’ you, gonna make it all okay.”

You just nod, swallowing the anxious lump in your throat. “I’m… just scared…” you admit, willing your cheeks to stop burning hot with all the emotions swirling around inside of you. Desire, embarrassment, discomfort, doubt - all mixing up to create a disastrous thundering of your heart inside of your chest.

“Baby, nothin’ to be scared of…” Joel coos, kissing your shoulder and peppering them across the top of your chest as he leans over your body.

“You’re not gonna hurt me?” you wonder aloud. You’d heard stories through the grapevine of other girls - fearful stories of pain or blood that had nearly revolted you at the time, made you almost glad there were no men paying that type of attention to you just yet. You’d always hoped they were just exaggerated tales, and you suppose you’re finally about to find out for yourself.

“I’ll be honest, sweet girl. This might hurt a little bit. Just ‘cause it’s your first time.” His lips suckle at the swell of your breast and you squirm a little, back arching into it as your breath hitches. You try to focus back on his words as his lips move an inch and do the same motion, a gentle sucking so close to your nipple now that you nearly puff your chest in his direction, hoping his mouth will land there next.

“But it’s such a special kind of love a man can show ya on your first time, darlin’. Get to have all of you…” he muses, his warped excitement becoming more palpable by the second, filling the room and stifling the air. “I’ll be gentle,” he adds on as he sees another spark of fear on your face.

“You’ll be gentle…” you repeat quietly, squeezing your eyes shut in some type of silent prayer. You feel the needle-like prickle of tears behind your eyes again, begging yourself to do anything but cry right now. You dig your nails deep into your palms, squeezing your fists tight to keep the pain there instead of burning deep in your stomach where it’s settled.

How can you be this close to all of it and still so unsure? Would you ever be sure? Or is this how everyone feels during their first time?

Joel finally pops one of your nipples into his mouth, sucking harder while his hand plays with your free nipple, rolling it between his fingers. You cry out at the unexpected sensation and wriggle your body, only to be held down a little harder by Joel.

“Mm-mm,” he hums, “No squirmin’ away.” His mouth quickly finds a home on your breasts again as you try to still your body, not wanting to make him upset. You’d seen how he behaved when he was upset with you, and it was not something you found yourself wanting to repeat.

”Pretty little nipples, sweetheart,” Joel says, talking at your chest while he flicks his tongue on the hard bud, unrelenting in his tasting of your sweet, supple skin. “Look at ‘em all day if I could. Half a mind to have you walk ‘round w’your tits out all the time.” He chuckles dryly before he sucks again, a little harder and you bite back the gasp that sticks in your throat at the jolt of pleasure it sends rocking through your body. “You’d do that f’me, wouldn’t you? Jus’ to get a little of ‘ol Joel’s attention?”

His words make you itchy, almost, in a strange, foreign way, one that’s hard to explain even to yourself. Like you want to crawl out of your skin, yet want to hear his words over and over, hear more of the things he sees in you, would want from you. You’d never found yourself to be someone with much to offer anyone, really, and hearing Joel already find so much to dote on is inflicting you with the most unexpected addiction you could have imagined.

You feel Joel’s fingers squeeze your chin suddenly, your eyes flicking open to glance down at him. “Answer me when I’m speakin’ to you,” Joel says softly despite the commanding tone of his words.

“I - yes,” you answer, tripping over the single word as you push it out in a hurry.

“Good girl,” he murmurs in response, leaning up to peck a kiss on the spot on your chin he’d been gripping. “Now you’re gonna let me make you feel good, ain’t ya? Let me treat you like a princess, show you what all the other men shoulda done but were too dumb. Chance with a pretty girl like you,” he rambles with a little scoff. “All meant f’me, anyways.” His conclusion seems to satisfy him as he grins, taking in your body with a hot gaze, lingering at the base of your stomach where his hands are itching to go. He doesn’t wait for your answer this time, sliding his hand right down, skillfully touching your soft skin the entire way.

Joel’s fingers start to trace the band of your panties, that satisfied grin still plastered on his face as he watches your reactions - your little sharp inhales and small twitches of your face as you feel him exploring your body. His eyes can’t help but drift down to watch your chest heave, pert tits on display and abused, hard nipples poking out into the air. He has a tempting thought to spend his entire night with his face buried right there, but he has more pressing matters to get to, he reminds himself as he feels his cock twitch inside his jeans.

He suddenly sighs as he pads the outside of your underwear, his face nearly pained looking in his ecstasy. “You’re soaked f’me, sugar,” Joel says, breathless. You feel yourself flush hot, your cheeks burning, thinking this has to be something to be embarrassed about, something that shows your lack of experience and your fear.

“‘S not a bad thing,” Joel tells you quickly, seeming to read your mind yet again. He doesn’t stop, his fingers teasing the fabric that starts to seep onto his digits. “Means you like all this, means your body is tellin’ us you’re ready.”

“Oh,” you say flatly, feeling dumb for not having much better to say. “I- uh, are you going to do it now, then?”

Joel chuckles, a genuine sound ringing through the quiet room, like he’s amused. “Christ,” he breathes out, swirling his fingers along the fabric, making your hips jump as he brushes your bundle of nerves. “You’re too cute, so perfect f’me. I get to teach you everythin’.”

Your brain can barely register his words, too focused on that little spasm that had just rocked its way through your body when Joel’s fingers touched along that sensitive spot. You blink, biting your lip as his fingers tease everywhere but there, silently urging him to brush there again.

Joel huffs another laugh watching your contorted, concentrated face. “Already fucked out, can’t think about nothin’ but these fingers, huh?” he teases you, amusement lacing his voice. His fingers make a tight circle over your clothed clit and you inhale sharply through your teeth, stifling a little noise from deep in your chest. “That what you wanted? Jus’ desperate f’me to touch your clit, sugar?”

You shake your head, completely overwhelmed by the absurdity of this feeling. “I don’t - I don’t…” you murmur, trying to convince yourself for what feels like the final time that you don’t want any of this. That you don’t feel an amoral, wicked pull towards this man that you shouldn’t - this man who has treated you like prey, is far too old to be interested in you, who by all accounts should be sending you fighting and running. A man you know likely has debased plans for you that you can barely even conjure up in your own mind, but plans that you are slowly realizing you want to be a part of, are curious about.

His care, his touch, his infatuation. They could all be yours, if you’d let him.

“Think you do… look at you, innocent little thing. Wrestlin’ w’yourself. Nothin’ wrong happening here, honey.”

You look to his dark eyes, seeking guidance, reassurance. “I-it’s not? I feel so…” You can’t put any of it into words for him, how intense the feeling is, how badly your body is craving something that you don’t know anything about yet. How dirty you feel for wanting it with him.

He shakes his head slowly to try and convince you. “Mm-mm. I feel it too, sugar. ‘S jus’ attraction, desire. Makes you burn all hot in here, don’t it?” he asks, cupping your aching, wet cunt through your panties. You gasp at the fullness of his hand against your throbbing folds while you nod fervently, taking in a deep breath to steady yourself as his fingers curl and then drag up your clothed slit. Your head arches back a little and you let out a tiny mewling sound through closed lips. Your mind muddles instantly, eyes rolling back as he repeats the motion, this time letting his fingers trail off to the edge of your panties, teasing the hem there.

“Thas’ it, let yourself enjoy it, princess. Let daddy take care of you.”

He’s barely controlling himself now, his breath heavy against your neck as he starts to move with more urgency, teeth scraping against your delicate skin. Your brow furrows quickly at the new reference to himself but his teeth sink into your flesh with a soft nip, pulling your mind back to the present.

“You’re gonna like this,” he murmurs quietly into your skin as his fingers fiddle one final time at your waistband before wiggling under, diving deep and sliding his fingers right into your wet slit.

“Oh… m-my, g-“ you whimper as quietly as you can when he slips them back and forth a few times, brushing your clit on each one, gathering up a lewd amount of slickness on his fingers. He spreads your wet folds delicately, feeling his way around almost respectfully, desperate breaths puffing out of his nose.

“Poor baby… soakin’ yourself this whole time… never even knowin’ how good you could feel, how much y’need a cock in here,” Joel says, sounding truly devastated for you. His brazen language makes your head spin and your cheeks flourish with warmth. And then it finally happens - his fingers swirl over your clit again.

You cry out loud this time, unable to hold it back when his circling tightens and he puts more pressure down on the aching little bud. The heat from between your legs starts to spread to your lower belly, pulling taut and warm as it settles there.

“Oh…” you murmur, back arching when Joel adds a second finger to the motion. Your legs shake a little as they lay flat on the bed, knees starting to bend of their own volition to help your hips start to wriggle closer to his touch. You stutter out another moan when his fingers press harder, the feeling shooting what feels like sparks through your entire bloodstream, straight to your head. You’re foggy, thoughts clouded over as everything else starts to fade out. Your mind pinpoints on Joel’s touch, practically seeing just his fingers in your mind's eye and the sensation that’s quickly boiling in your core, tightening with each movement he makes.

“Yeah, feelin’ so good ain’t you princess?” Joel coos with a grin, making his movements a little faster. “First one to touch this little clit, first one to see ya like this, writhin’ around like an animal in heat. God…” He marvels at your microexpressions, the contortions of your body, the way he can see you’re holding back, not wanting to seem too eager.

“Let go, sweetheart. Be loud f’me. Be loud f’daddy,” Joel urges you, eyes practically bugging out of his head as he sees you start to sheen a little with sweat, your body hot and tingling next to him. He smirks as he slips a finger down, eliciting a desperate cry from you when it leaves your clit to tease your entrance.

“D-daddy…” you start, meaning it as more of a question, wanting to understand what he’s getting at, but it trails off into a pathetic little cry when the tip of his index finger pushes into you unexpectedly.

Joel has died and gone to heaven, if his expression is any indication as he breathes out shakily, hardly in control of his actions at this point. “Thas’ right, thas’ right, princess. Call out f’me while I’m inside ya.”

“F-fuck,” you let slip out. “Y-you’re inside?” you ask him in slight disbelief that it’s really happening. You go completely breathless as he starts to play with your clit again, using his thumb to flick urgently there while he lets his finger settle inside of you.

Joel wriggles his finger deeper, burying his index finger almost to the hilt as he nods, turning your head with his free hand to make sure you’re looking at him.

“Naughty little thing, cursin’ cause daddy made you feel that good.” He smirks, letting you sweat it out for another moment before answering your question in a softer voice, almost sweet and caring. “‘M inside, sugar. Feels so fuckin’ good, too. Perfect, tight little hole all f’me.”

You’ve become a trembling mess, the fullness from Joel’s finger overwhelming you. The tingling warmth spreads to your belly from where he starts to move his finger, slowly at first.

“Yeah, there we go, takin’ me so well,” Joel mumbles as you relax around his finger, pressing in and out in sloppier motions. You gasp when his finger presses in to the hilt, then he repeats it over and over, filling you up. Your hips twitch and grind a little into him, into the feeling of his thumb flicking carefully at your clit.

“O-oh…” you whimper out, gushes of warmth coating Joel’s finger, running down onto his hand. He grunts an approving noise as he feels the way your body pours out slickness for him. This is pure heaven, he concludes to himself, nothing in the world could be sweeter than the feeling of taking this from you and getting so much in return.

“Christ, you are perfect,” he says near your ear. “This okay, princess?”

You just give him a nod, barely able to speak as your entire body starts to feel warmer and drawn tight, Joel’s finger on your clit moving at an achingly slow pace.

“Gonna feel somethin’ for just a second, mkay?” he says quietly, not bothering to clue you in any further before retreating his index finger and snuggling his middle finger right next to it, inserting them both into your weeping entrance.

Joel breathes a sigh, the air fanning across your bare chest. “Mmm, so tight, baby. Thas’ it, just focus right on me,” he says as your eyes open wide and look right into his. You feel the burn from his second finger, so thick and wide in comparison, your body adjusting to the new sensation.

“J-joel…” you whimper quietly when he starts to move them with more force, your brow furrowing with the strange mixture of pain and pleasure.

“Y’need to relax, c’mon,” he urges, using his free hand to rub gentle circles on your shoulder. “Promise we’ll get you feelin’ real good, sweetheart. We gotta get you all stretched out to fit all ‘f me.” He rubs a soothing hand on your shoulder with his free one, shushing you when he sees the look of worry on your face.

“Jus’ enjoy it.”

His words echo in your mind as you start to fully embrace all the sensations. You feel a burning heat in your core start to radiate, pulling tight, so tight it’s nearly maddening before your hips shift the tiniest bit and find your release, the tightness completely snapping from one moment to the next.

“Oh my god… oh my god… oh…” you cry out, feeling yourself starting to shake, your entire body ravaged by oncoming waves and waves of pleasure.

“Look at me when you come, princess,” Joel says sternly as he grasps your face, turning your head in his direction. You slowly creep your eyes open and see his dark pools full of a sense of smugness and wonder. “God, fuck, that’s good, keep comin’ f’me,” he breathes out, feeling your slick pouring out onto his hand as you come.

You’ve never felt so amazing in your entire life, the only thought you can think is more more more as you moan loudly, any shame in doing so long gone when you feel this incredible. White heat envelops you, sending your vision speckled and your back arching off the bed completely, your hips spasming down to where Joel sloppily yet expertly fucks you with his fingers. You grip at the sheets with one hand, Joel’s shirt with the other, squeezing them both to try to hang on to reality.

“Good girl, good little girl… god you’re pretty when you come,” Joel says, talking you through it. His fingers are merciless until the last second, when your hips drop to the bed with a sudden thud, your entire body limp, only your hips jumping with a need to get away from the overstimulation.

“Oh, that was a big one, now, wasn’t it?” Joel asks softly, pulling his hand from between your legs and resting it on your thigh, his other still soothing on your cheek. Your eyes flutter and roll back as you catch your breath, trying to wrap your mind around what just happened.

“Uh-huh…” you murmur dazedly, your hand still resting on Joel’s chest after letting go of his shirt.

Joel peppers your face with soft, loving kisses, finally reaching your lips and kissing you deeper. You’re lost, somewhere in another dimension completely, kissing him back without any knowledge of doing so. The warmth of his lips starts to bring you back and you flutter your eyes open as he pulls back.

“Y’did real good. How’d that feel, huh, sugar?” Joel inquires, looking down at you expectantly.

“S-so… good… I can’t explain…”

“Mhm, I know what ya mean,” he replies sweetly, “Hard to explain, jus’ all that pleasure. Loved makin’ you feel that good, honey.” Joel leans in to kiss your cheek, using his hand to tilt you towards him and plants another kiss on your lips. You moan quietly, body overstimulated and exhausted, the now empty space between your legs aching and tingling for him.

You roll your head back onto the pillow, unable to respond. Joel places a hand over the one of yours that rests on his chest and rubs his thumb over the back.

“Gonna make you feel like that all the time,” he says with an oddly devoted, sweet tone, leaning down and surprising you with another kiss. Your eyes open again and he’s looking at you with that look again. “So much more we could do,” he adds, shifting his smile into something more hungry again.

“Wh-“ you start to ask, and Joel’s finger touches your lip gently. You can taste the remnants of yourself on it - such a strange, foreign flavor that makes you smack your lips a little. Joel’s amusement at your response shows quickly on his face as he traces his finger along your lips with a soft smile.

He starts to sit up and lean back on the bed, sending your hand dropping from his chest, a quick bounce on the mattress before it stills. His hands reach to his waist, fingers working at his belt. You stare, eyes transfixed on his every move as your heart starts to beat more quickly, anxiety flooding your system as you toil over what comes next.

“Ain’t done with you yet, sweet girl,” he mumbles, belt now hanging loose and open while he palms himself outside of his jeans. Your mind races at the prospect of seeing what you saw from afar this morning just this much closer. Joel reads your deer in the headlights expression and smirks, head cocked as he looks down at you, sitting next to you on the bed, knees pushed into the mattress.

You swallow hard, the apparent lump sliding down your throat and it makes your cheeks burn how openly nervous you are. Joel strokes a hand gently down the side of your head before pushing off the mattress and standing next to the edge of the bed.

“Time f’you to see a real man, in all his glory,” Joel says, teasingly, like he knows something you don’t. And he does, you suppose, know a lot of things that you don’t in this regard.

He starts to peel off his jeans, letting them pool by his ankles, belt buckle clanging all the way down before he steps out of them. He has on a pair of dark boxer briefs, hard to tell if they’re black or navy in the fading evening light of his bedroom. All you can focus on is the apparent bulge there, knowing what’s underneath, that shockingly large part of him he’d stroked earlier because of you.

He wastes little time pulling his shirt over his head, revealing his hulking, muscular form, soft yet hard, toned and strong but fleshy and dusted with salt and pepper curls of hair, leading right down to the waistband of his briefs.

Your eyes flick from between his thighs to his face, searching his eyes for any kind of assurance, any kind of assistance in how to act, what to do next. He just remains as cocky as ever, hand grazing the outside of the tented fabric as he stares down at you with hooded eyes.

“You wanna see it, babygirl? Wanna touch daddy’s cock?” He rubs himself a little faster, a tiny growl suppressed in his chest while he awaits your answer. “Know you do, know you’re such a curious girl.”

You unstick your tongue from the roof of your mouth and nod, swallowing hard again. “Y-yes, I want to see,” you finally say, meek and shaky, shrinking in on yourself like you’re preparing for a bomb to go off, afraid of what you’re about to witness. In what feels like a flash, his briefs are down on the ground, Joel’s cock springing free almost violently as it slaps against him. You stare for a moment, taking in the way it juts out from his body - rock hard, shiny pink head dripping and veins running along the length of him. You feel speechless, unsure if there’s something you’re supposed to say when a man shows you his penis.

“C’mon a little closer, princess, you can look, s’okay,” Joel says, calm and quiet. “Crawl over here.”

You hesitate a moment and push yourself up on the bed to get on your hands and knees. While it’s not a far distance, just a few paces and you’re to the side of the bed where Joel stands, he revels in the sight of you doing it, his lip caught between his teeth as he gently plays with himself.

“Pretty girl,” Joel murmurs when you reach him, putting his hand along the back of your head and stroking once before holding on to keep you in a position to stare directly at his cock. It’s threateningly large right in your face like this, and you feel yourself shudder a bit as you watch Joel’s free hand gently touching all along the length.

“Now, I want y’to touch it, can you do that, sweetheart?”

You hand hovers, your teeth sinking into the inside of your cheek as you peer at his member with a lack of confidence.

“C’mon now,” Joel says, grabbing your wrist, moving your stalled, floating hand to his cock, settling your fingers on the head. Your stomach turns with the strangeness of all of this - the way you had given in to him and now felt like it was impossible to go back. Joel is gently nudging your hand, trying to urge you to move, and it brings you back to the present moment where you blink hard and focus on him again.

“Sh-should I do this…?” you ask quietly, letting your fingers graze the head in a swirling motion, unintentionally picking up the beads of precum leaking out and you nearly pull back. Joel chuckles at your brief reaction to the liquid, then nods.

“That’s good, real nice,” he says softly. “Touch it all over now, no need to be shy with me, okay?”

You press your lips together, unable to even look him in the eye due to your strange combination of being flustered and mortified. You can only find yourself staying focused on what you’re doing with your hands, making sure it’s right for him.

“What did I say about answerin’ me when I’m speaking to you?” Joel says a moment later, tugging on your hair to lift your gaze up to his. You wince, wishing he’d be a little more gentle with your scalp, and he sees your expression and only tightens his grip.

“I-I’m s-sorry. Um…” you take a deep breath, trying to calm your quaking hands. “Like this?” you ask him, using your fingertips to glide down the length of his cock, all the way to the base where a patch of thick curls sits. That seems to please him, a kinder smile on his face now when he nods in approval.

“Lean forward and spit right on there f’me,” he says, looking down at you and gesturing between his thighs. “Need to get it nice and wet f’daddy to feel good, okay?”

Your mouth hangs open in a stunted silence, your body unable to move without his assistance right now as he drags your hand along his dry cock. He grunts in exasperation before tugging back on your haIr again, forcing your face into a contorted wince.

“I don’t wanna hurt you, you know that, right? Y’jus’ need a firm hand, baby, helpin’ you figure all this stuff out. So why don’t ya go on ahead and do as I say, sweetheart, hm? It’d make me real happy.” His words are silken, laced with his country accent and that hidden malice he carries within him, every step, every word showing it to you, drawing you in further.

You bow your head a little as he loosens his grip, letting you decide for yourself now. “I-I’m sorry, you’re right, I- uh, d-do need your help,” you whine obediently, feeling your scalp starting to throb a tiny bit.

Joel scratches at your head for a moment, watching you lean down closer to his cock. “Good girl, there ya go.” You can hear him smirking as you tentatively spit on his cock, watching the saliva settled on the top before dripping around the side. “Don’t be afraid, want ya to drool on it, baby, don’t worry ‘bout gettin’ messy.” He nudges your head forward and you breathe out a shaky breath before trying to desperately gather up any amount of saliva your drying mouth will offer you. You open your mouth, letting your tongue hang down before forcing yourself to spit watching more dribble onto the center of his cock.

“Fuck,” Joel grits through his teeth, feeling the sudden warm wetness of your saliva on him. “Thas’ it - f-fuck, now wrap your hand ‘round it,” he commands urgently, immediately negating any need for the words by wrapping his own hand more firmly around yours, sending your fingers curling around his length.

“Look at that, sugar, barely even fit that little hand around me,” he says with an arrogant grin, starting to move your hand in strokes, gathering up all the slickness you’d just provided. The sound starts to reverberate through the room, that same noise you’d heard outside his door earlier.

You’re starting to feel like merely a passenger as he jerks on himself quicker using your hand, sitting in front of him almost completely naked, the real version of what he was picturing this morning as he pleasured himself. Joel smiles even more at the fantasy coming to life right before his eyes, your little panties the only thing he has left to remove before he’s seen all of you. And by god, does he want to see all of you. See what he has no doubt looks just as perfect as it felt around his fingers while he buried them inside of you.

“Take ‘em off,” Joel says as the thought pops into his head, staring down between your legs, his eyes practically glimmering.

“D-do I have to…?” you stammer out, suddenly wishing you could put back on every piece of clothing that’s now scattered between here and the kitchen downstairs.

“Now c’mon darlin’,” Joel snips, frowning a little. His hand continues to jerk yours along a little more aggressively as his breathing picks up. “Jus’ want to see your pretty body, baby girl, thas’ all. It’ll help me feel extra good right here,” he says, squeezing your hand as it moves along his cock.

You reach down and start pulling on the waistband of your panties, a little awkwardly as Joel holds your other hand hostage. You shimmy them down and sit closer to the edge of the bed, where Joel suddenly wraps his arm around your back and pulls you to the edge, leaving your legs dangling off on either side of his knees.

Joel’s hand grips at the side of your face, cupping your cheek less than delicately as he pants out, your hand moving quicker and quicker along his cock. You feel a rush of heat in your body similar to when Joel had been touching you earlier. That arousal cropping up low and deep in your belly, that feeling you want to ignore when it comes to Joel. But looking at him - sheening with sweat, his enticingly soft yet muscular belly right in your face, his face turning a shade more red with effort as he puffs out his quick breaths has you nearly squirming where you sit. It’s intimate, it’s sexual, you realize, something he’s giving to you just as much as you are him.

“Fuck,” he spits out, tugging your hand off his cock and pushing you down with a swift shove to your chest. You fall back to the bed, nearly emotionally wounded when you notice his eyes still raking all over your body.

“Lemme jus’ look at ya, fuck, put your legs up, show me that pretty cunt,” he demands, his hand flying back to his cock to continue stroking it as you prop your legs up on the bed, giving him the view he’s asking for. He groans loudly, deep and guttural as his eyes are glued to your glistening sex, a new slickness dripping out from the way he’s looking at you. You’ve never felt sexy before, desired, and even though the circumstances are never what you’d envisioned, you’re completely enamored with the feeling of it. Already craving more of it.

“Can’t wait to sink my cock into that tight little pussy,” he murmurs to himself, but you feel your entire body tensing at his words, taken by surprise that it might be happening right now.

Joel’s mouth curls in that devious but handsome way to the side as he sees your change in demeanor. “Shh, shh, not yet, sweetheart. Wanna keep you pure jus’ a little bit longer f’me,” he breathes out with a wink in your direction.

Less controlled smacks of his fist against his skin fill the air of the room. You’re practically holding your breath, watching everything unfold as his cock throbs and twitches in his hold. He just watches your innocent, fascinated expressions move over your face and continues smirking down at you.

“One thing at a time for my princess. Take you piece by piece, won’t I?” He seems so pleased to be the decider here, to say what you get, and don’t get. How he controls how he uses your body. It makes his cock throb achingly in his hand, just the thought of it alone. His to use. His to show all the pleasure. His to keep.

He watches your lips, waiting for them to move, to answer his question. “Y-yes…” you whisper meekly. Joel groans at your compliance and his eyes flutter for a moment. He’s so close now. You understand that same feeling that had come over you for the first time not very long ago.

“Yeah, princess, daddy’s gonna come all over you now. Tell me, say it. Say you want daddy to come all over you.” He breathes heavily, little groaning whimpers as he goes harder, his cock angry and red from the way he’s tugging on it. “Say it,” Joel booms out, and you start at the intensity of his voice, curling in on yourself for a moment.

“I- I want daddy to come o-on me… a-all over me,” you say, hoping it’s loud enough for him to hear, that you won’t have to repeat it again. The name slides awkwardly off your tongue, wishing to understand it, make sense of why it made your core tingle for just a moment when you said the words.

“God, bet you do, yes, fuck, daddy’s gonna come now, paint that perfect body with it,” Joel punches out before his hips stutter forward, his hand giving a few jerks as he starts to come hard, the white stickiness splattering onto you - your stomach, your breasts, even where your legs lay open for him to look at as his own personal little show. He heaves as the final bits spill out and he leans his head back, sighing.

“God damn, so good, baby girl. You did amazing,” he coos, climbing onto the bed next to you. He sits while you lay motionless, nearly stunned from what you’d witnessed, the constant reminder of it in the form of his warm liquid dripping along your body.

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” he says more softly, picking up your discarded panties and carefully swiping his mess off of you with them, curling his body close to yours.

“That’s better,” he announces, holding the white cotton up to inspect the way his cum stains them now with a wry smirk. He sets them aside on his nightstand before his hands slip underneath your back and your legs to cradle you, pulling you into his lap. He sits back on the bed, nestling the both of you against the headboard as he settles you across his thighs. “This okay?” he asks, stroking your back.

“Mhm.” You nod quietly and thread an arm around his torso, intertwined under where his arm reaches up to meet you. The movement comes naturally, more than you’d care to admit, wanting to feel loved and cared for right now. You hate the tears that sting your eyes again, like you’re not strong enough to handle something like this, something that adults do.

“S-sorry,” you say, swiping your eyes quickly and trying to avoid any tears falling.

“Shh, don’t be sorry. Y’did such a good job, y’know that? Normal to get emotional if it’s your first time.”

You chew on your lip and then look up at Joel, his features already strangely comforting and familiar. The speckled, tan skin that you want to touch more of, his dark lashes that fall over his eyes when he looks down at you like this.

“B-but it wasn’t… my first time…”

“Sure it was. First time doin’ somethin’ like that. It’s a lot for a sweet girl like you. But you’ll feel good again, just like tonight, I promise ya that.”

You nod, slightly more encouraged by Joel’s words as you relax a little more into his embrace. “That… release… it’s an orgasm, right?” You nearly choke on the words, shame flooding you for even having to ask.

Joel blows out a teasing breath through his nostrils. “God damn, nobody out there teachin’ you anythin’, were they?” He ruffles the back of your head playfully. “Yes, darlin’ that was an orgasm, what both of us experienced.”

You crack a small smile at his teasing and brush your fingers along where they’re resting along his back. “People acted like it was… bad to teach about. My parents, people that looked after me, all of them.” You pause, feeling your face warm with the embarrassment of sharing so much “S-sorry I’m so clueless…”

“No, honey, not clueless. You’re learnin’, and I wanna be the one to teach you everythin’. It…” he inhales deeply, and you see that hunger in his eyes when you glance his way. “It excites me.”

“It does?”

“It’s so sexy, takin’ care of you and lettin’ you learn w’me. You like bein’ sexy, don’t you?” Joel teases, bringing a hand to your chin, tilting it just slightly. Your lips look the most inviting they have as they curve into the most delicate smile, one finally full of lust and confidence.

“I do…” you murmur in response, averting your eyes as you flush yet again. Your body feels warm, bare and pressed against Joel’s naked flesh, his words instantly having an effect on you.

“An’ you should,” Joel says, leaning forward to press his lips to your neck, smattering kisses down the length of it. “Already got me wrapped around your little finger.”

His lips tickle you as his facial hair brushes along you in his fast movements, and you nearly giggle, holding back at the last moment, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of hearing your laugh just yet. You sigh contentedly and lean back into him, fighting a sudden yawn.

“You all tired out?” Joel asks quietly, lips pressed close to your ear. You shiver at the vibrations of his rich timbre and inadvertently snuggle a little closer as goosebumps creep along your skin. Joel rubs your back in response, pulling you in tighter.

You nod, mumbling out a yes and Joel responds by gently rolling you over onto the bed, laying your head on the pillow. He’s curled up to you in an instant, arm thrown over your chest all the way to your arm on the other side, letting his fingers rub there.

“You get some rest, it’s been a big day, huh?”

“It has…” you mumble in reply, hesitantly resting your hand on his arm that covers your chest. It starts to feel like some semblance of normal, cuddling with Joel. You’d never experienced something like this, this closeness.

“G’night,” he mumbles into your skin, kissing it one more time before you notice him going more slack, starting to settle into that dazed, half sleepy state. You look over at him, blinking slowly with a deep tiredness, just watching his face in this calm, non-threatening state. He looks handsome like this, a little vulnerable and sweet, someone you could pretend is holding you right now just so you feel taken care of and cared for. You wish you could read him, trace the weathered lines on his face and find out just who he really is, which version of the many different Joel’s he’s shown you he truly is.

You fall asleep trying to figure it out.

Your eyes flutter open, finding the room still dark. You imagine it has only been a few hours since you fell asleep, but you woke with your stomach aching, hunger tearing through you. You realize the only thing you’ve eaten is the bread and cheese Joel fed you, and it makes your stomach growl again.

Joel has mostly rolled off of you, just an errant hand laid across your upper arm as he sleeps, body sprawled out on the bed. You lay as still as can be for a few moments, checking just how deep he’s sleeping before you slip out of bed, on the prowl for a midnight snack. You don’t think Joel would mind, would he? He’d fed you earlier, promised that part of what he’d do to help you here is to share his provisions with you, keep you full. You spot a knit blanket on the back of a wooden chair in the corner of the bedroom and throw it around your shoulders, shivering as you snuggle your naked body underneath it and relish in the warmth.

It’s dark in the kitchen, but you don’t dare flick on the light, happy to scavenge by way of the small glow from the open refrigerator. You end up tearing off some more of the bread, careful to not take too much from Joel’s provisions. Your eyes drift around the room as you chew happily, taking it in now that you’re here alone, gaze free to roam without any questions from Joel. You stop when you land on your backpack, slumped near the door, and your boots, tucked right where you’d left them when you’d arrived. How was that only yesterday? It feels like an entire lifetime has passed since then. Like you’re a different person than when you’d first entered the threshold of that door, shaking and terrified, barely hanging on. Now… you still weren’t sure where you landed, but you were certainly changed.

Your threadbare coat hangs where Joel must have decided to leave it when you’d taken your shower. All of your things calling out to you, screaming red, like a test that he’d left for you. To test your loyalty, to see your obedience. Everything you’d need to disappear from this cabin, all in one little space. Your heart starts to race, your mouth dry as the bread seems to go sour on your tongue.

You could leave right now, if you wanted. Take your chances. Let fate decide if you’d starve on your own or lead you to a new community - those people in Jackson - who might take care of you. You could learn. You were capable of survival, you knew you were. You could learn to hunt and fish and start fires on your own, to live off the land and not be scared of the hidden horrors of the world. Yes, you could leave right now, escape the uncertainty of Joel’s moods and promises, and learn.

You bite your lip anxiously, eyes in a trance as you stare at your backpack, with it holding the memories of those two weeks on your own where you fought and scraped by and nearly froze to death. You blink and turn your head back towards the fridge. Maybe you aren’t cut out for life on the road. Maybe you’re too soft for it. And maybe some more of that sheep’s cheese doesn’t sound so bad right now.

You open the fridge back up, peering inside to look for that little wrapped package you’d seen Joel pull from earlier. You nearly jump out of your skin when Joel’s voice cuts into the silent room - you’d been too absorbed in your own thoughts to even hear the creak of the old floorboards announcing his movements upstairs.

“The hell’re you doin?” his voice booms out in that controlled, stern tone that makes you want to listen. You whip your head around from where you’re crouched at the fridge, rummaging through it and see Joel stepping off the bottom of the staircase and into the main room. He hasn’t bothered to put anything on, like he was in a rush to see if you were down here, if you’d snuck off in the night. His naked body moves powerfully, muscles on display, and yet all you can focus on is what’s between his legs - his soft cock swinging almost tauntingly as he approaches you with such an angry aura.

“I - I was hungry… starving. I thought I’d -“ you start, teeth clicking together in a fearful grimace as he cuts you off.

“Yeah? Sure you’re not tryna run off again? Ransack my fridge and leave?” He’s already questioning you heatedly, reaching where you stand and slamming the fridge shut behind you and pressing you close to the door.

You scramble in your mind to find the words to make him understand, shrinking in, afraid of what he’s capable of doing to you. “Wh - no, no I was… look at me, I have nothing on, I wouldn’t be running out like this, right?” You gesture down to your body, only draped in the small knit blanket.

“Poor excuse, darlin’,” he sneers, looking down at you. The moonlight spilling in through the kitchen window casts menacing shadows across his rugged face. He narrows his eyes as he waits for you to further dig yourself out of this hole.

“I - I swear it, I haven’t eaten much, remember? J-just that bread and cheese, and I woke up hungry.” You plead and see him soften just enough to want to let up a little bit, but his face hardens again at the last second. You realize he’s scared, the hint of it behind his wild eyes showing for just a moment. He’d really run down here thinking he’d find you gone for good and that had scared him, an emotion you wouldn’t have expected from Joel. He has weaknesses and fears after all.

He steps a little closer and you can feel his cock, now half hard pressing between your legs. You fight the urge to wince, afraid he’s about to press it further.

“Hard to believe w’the way you were runnin’ off earlier. Not desperate to get away from me anymore now that I fucked that little pussy so good w’my fingers? Didn’t jus’ get what you want from me and wanna split?” You can tell he doesn’t even fully believe what he’s saying, he just wants to taunt you, remind you that he’s more powerful, that he holds all of the cards. He grips your cheeks, squishing them together and holding your head steady, inspecting you for another moment, as if he can get the truth out of you just by reading your face. His head leans forward and he holds you in place as he sucks on your neck, pulling your skin between his lips harder and harder. He lets go and keeps himself nuzzled tight to your neck as he speaks.

“Y’don’t do anythin’ like this again without wakin’ me up.” He squeezes your cheeks a little harder before releasing it, keeping his face buried against your neck. “‘S my job to take care of you, remember? Don’t wanna catch you like this again, yeah?”

“Y-yes,” you stutter, breathing a sigh of relief. One that’s short lived when Joel pulls another patch of skin into his mouth, using his teeth this time - you feel the slight nibble as he scrapes his teeth on your soft skin and you whimper quietly when it starts to hurt.

“J-joel…” you whine, shifting uncomfortably, the heat of his body so close making you squirm and break out in a sweat.

“No,” he cuts you off, wrapping a hand around your arm and another around your waist, holding you in place. “If you’re here,” he says, stopping to flick his tongue along his recent mark, “You’re gonna refer to me as a few special names goin’ forward, okay? Teach you a little respect towards me.”

“I- I respect you,” you blurt out desperately, your eyes wide and searching the room for anything that might help you get out of this. Joel’s hold is absolute, as you’ve learned several times now. You’re suddenly unsure once again, his frightening behavior reminding you just who you’re living with now. You don’t dare to call him a monster, even in your thoughts, because that would be admitting what you’ve been desperately avoiding. You’re attracted to a monster, inexplicably fixated by him, lured in with his sweet offerings and chance at a new life. Worst of all, you’ve already given yourself over to him, let him drag you further into his clutches.

“You’ve been s-so kind and helpful, you fed me, everything…” you add on in a soft lilt, hoping he takes mercy on you.

He stays silent for a moment, his lips hovering above your skin, only his hot breath fanning across it. “Then show it,” he says in a deep rumble. “You’re gonna call me daddy, sweetheart. ‘Cause I’m here to take care of you. And a good girl always listens to her daddy, doesn’t she?”

He sucks again. Harder this time, the burn and sting shooting out from where he abuses your delicate skin.

“She does…” you choke out.

“That’s right. I’m gonna be your everything, sweetheart. Your daddy, your sir, your master. And when you address me, you’ll address me as such, yeah? Show that you’re mine… show me respect.”

“M-mhm…” you whimper, swallowing with your lips pressed tightly together, the pain of him sucking on your neck after each little speech becoming more and more unbearable. It hurts, but something about the way he’s speaking, the concept of his domination over you, the way you can tell it comes from some completely twisted place of care, sends a warm skittering down your spine. Maybe you’re just as sick as he is if any part of you enjoys this, even the small, deeply hidden bit that seems to be growing with each encounter you have with Joel.

“And when I’m done w’you here tonight,” he murmurs, bringing up a hand to trace his fingers gently along your quickly bruising skin, “You won’t be able to see yourself in the mirror without knowin’ who you belong to. Show everyone who dares lay eyes on my girl that I’ve got you, that I’m the one keepin’ you safe and fed and fucked.”

“Yes… you are…” you whimper out complicitly into a soft cry when he bites your neck again, his hot mouth attaching like his life depends on it.

“So you’re gonna be a good girl, yeah? Behave and listen to daddy’s rules?” He speaks breathlessly, his cock fully hard as he feels the power coursing through his veins, the evidence of it pressing firmly against your thighs. He feels you nod against where he rests his lips, but it’s not enough.

“Say it, princess. Say ‘I’m a good girl, and I’ll behave and listen to daddy’s rules.’”

You gasp as his teeth sink into your flesh, as hard as they’ve gone yet, feeling nearly like they may have drawn blood. “I- I-“ you breathe out, clutching at his arm, digging your nails in. It only spurs him on, his lips dragging back just to suck the spot relentlessly. It brings tears to your eyes immediately, your mind only focused on the pain now.

“Say. It.” Joel’s voice cuts through and your eyes flash open after a few tears roll down your cheeks.

“I’m a good girl…” you whimper, voice cutting out into another cry as he assaults another spot on your neck.

“And?”

“I’m a good girl a-and I’ll behave and l-listen to daddy’s rules…” Your breath whooshes out as he stops, relief flooding your body when he places a light kiss on one of the sore, bruised spots. A few tears roll down your cheeks, spilling over from the plethora of them along your lower lids.

“Mmm, good girl,” he says more gently, pulling back to look over your face. He frowns, and it nearly startles you to see him have a look that isn’t that one of sick satisfaction that he’s worn so often.

“When you’re daddy’s girl, you’re gonna be so well taken care of, I promise ya. I know you’re scared, and it ain’t easy when I’m bein’ so firm w’you. Just want you to understand…” he pauses, dragging a finger along your cheek, swiping a tear and glancing down at it glistening on his finger. His body is still close, pressed right against yours.

“That I’m doin’ it for your own good. So you know I mean it all. I won’t hurt ya unless you disobey me, yeah? If you’re not a good girl, you’re gonna have some punishments. Do you understand?”

You nod hesitantly, your brows furrowed and trying to process all of the information he’s throwing at you.

“Y’need some sleep, look at you,” he says with a shake of his head, taking in your disheveled state, swaying where you stand as a few more tears roll down your cheeks. He feels a pang spearing his heart at your weary, dejected stance, body trembling openly at his proximity. He knows he did this to you, made you this broken little bird he could grasp in his hands and crush with his words alone, but he did it for your own good. He tells himself this sentence for what feels like the millionth time, absolving his guilt in a single second. You need him, deserve the unrelenting care he’ll pour out once you fully give yourself over to him. Anytime now… with your cracks showing more and more, your desperation to please him not as well hidden as you might think.

“You’ll feel better in the mornin’, hm?” Joel says when you don’t answer him.

You shrug slightly, keeping your shoulders rolled up, feeling defensive as Joel rests his fingers on your arm more gently now. “We’ll talk more then,” he says decidedly, making the decision for the both of you as he sidles up next to you and puts an arm around you, his hand resting on the small of your back.

You begin to walk nearly catatonically back towards the stairs with Joel’s guidance. His hands slide to your hips and squeeze as you move up the stairs in a daze, exhaustion overtaking you. You swear you’re tired down to your very cells, every piece of your being sapped and scraped thin right now.

“Thank you,” you murmur in a whisper when Joel helps you shrug the blanket off of your shoulders, laying it tidily back on the chair where you’d found it.

“You’re welcome,” he responds, kissing the top of your head. You’re moved to the bed, body soft and yielding for him to place you where he wishes, finding you a place wrapped right in his arms just as you were earlier.

“You’re okay, you’re okay,” he whispers, lips flitting against your hair and cheek when he senses your tension. “Jus’ be good, don’t do that again, okay? Don’t wanna have to chain you to the bed while we sleep, would we?”

Your mouth sags open, chest pulling tight at his threat, the way it had rolled off his tongue like it was nothing, no humor or jesting behind it. When he’d said the word punishment he’d meant it in the most serious sense. Things like chaining you up, biting your neck until it was bruised, bleeding, and throbbing, and the likely long list of things he had lined up that you couldn’t even envision if you tried.

“N-no, you’ll never need to do that, I w-won’t…” you reply after composing yourself for a brief moment.

“Never say never,” Joel whispers with a conceited smirk. “You may find yourself askin’ me to do it someday, princess. Beggin’ me…”

You let out a breathy scoff of a laugh, mostly out of discomfort, but Joel hardly notices, busy tucking you into the crook of his neck as he puts an arm behind your head.

“You’ll see someday, babygirl, you’ll see… now let’s get some sleep.”

You stare into the dark of the room, head rising and falling with the movements of Joel’s chest while he falls back asleep. You hate that he smells good right now, that the hair of his chest feels so gorgeous and manly under your fingertips. You hate that you feel comfortable right now, safe, despite everything he’s done to you. You hate everything about all of it, but you don’t hate… him. It makes you sick, your stomach turning as you fight the urge to cry yet again.

You start to think back to your backpack and boots, waiting for you by the door. Their enticing siren call is louder than ever, beckoning you away from here.

You could learn to survive out there. You know you could.

You peek up at Joel’s face again, willing yourself to read him, the same thoughts swirling through your head from earlier tonight. You slowly reach your hand up and touch the lines on his face with your fingertips - around his eyes, his forehead, his cheeks. Ever so gently you move along his face, and Joel’s mouth twitches as he sleeps, morphing into a soft smile.

There he is. That is Joel. That has to be him. That soft smile, a sweet man who wants to care about you. That wants a companion, someone to spend his life with, not someone to hurt.

You sigh and close your eyes, dropping your hand and shifting your body to mold even closer to his, finding comfort in his large, imposing form rather than fear right now.

Yes, you think as your eyes flutter and you drift off, you could learn. Maybe it would just be an entirely different set of lessons.

#every time i post this fic i wanna throw up a little i get so nervous #don't let her flop!!!!#fic: smother #joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #dark!joel miller #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #x reader

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y3ager · 6 months

Text

MATERIAL GIRL.

— and what do you give the girl who has everything? two rich boyfriends!

jean k. x eren y. x black!fem!reader

tags: modern au, fluff, polyamorous relationship. socialite!reader. lovergirldeepdown!reader. 4k word count. inspired by this blurb.

HAILING FROM OLD money— your father the CEO of a century old automobile brand and your mother the third generation runway model—you have seen all there is to see, worn what there is to wear, had every priceless stone dangle from your neck and fingers, and tasted the most decadent of foods. the belief that just superficial things would be enough to sway you offends you greatly. if you don’t have it, you will have it as if it’s your right at this point. it takes much more than dinner and a yacht ride to make you squeal.

and that’s what’s so tiring about the whole dating scene. the pool is filled to the brim with arrogant nepotism babies in khaki shorts and sweaters around their shoulders. they’ll never worry about a thing because daddy kisses the ass of this man and mommy grins in the face of that woman, and by god, do they make it known. if another man brags about owning original modigliani pieces over dinner, he’ll be met with an oyster shell to the eye. who are you supposed to be, some bright-eyed influencer? please. check the pedigree.

things changed when you met them, however. one in the summer, and one in the winter.

you were on the jet back home from italy when hitch, a girl you’ve known since you were a tyke, bombarded your phone with messages about christening her new penthouse with a pool party you just had to come to, lest she’d drag you there. after confirming your attendance, you rolled back over in the white leather reclining seat and pulled your silk eye mask back down, making a mental note to get your braids refreshed and place an order for a new bikini.

you’re reborn as a literal doll, the braids on the left side of your head coaxed into an intricate butterfly while the others lay flat against your scalp in faultless rows and hang low to your hipbones. white, white, white everywhere, from the nails, the strappy swimsuit, the miu miu sandals; a beautiful contrasts against your glistening ebon skin dusted with body shimmer for good measure. perfect, as usual.

hitch’s new high rise penthouse is something out of a multimillion dollar budget drama, with its dozens of crystal clear windows and modern interior. sitting far away enough from the city to avoid the hustle and bustle, but close enough to gaze at the twinkling lights, it’s practically a palace for the dreyse corporation heir.

champagne flute filled with 1820 juglar cuvée, you mingle amongst the next generation of the one percent. hitch’s friends, and your friends by proxy you assume, are a breath of fresh air. human.

but there’s one person amongst the gaggle you don’t recognize. from your spot next to the slightly tispy miss dreyse, your dark eyes glance over the rim of your ivory framed sunnies, glass rim tapping absentmindedly against lined, glossed lips. light brown mullet, slightly tanned skin, dark brown eyes...

“hitchie...” your elbow gently bumps into the blonde’s sides, snatching her out of her mild stupor. “who’s that?” you ask innocently, gesturing with your half full flute. it’s casual, inquisitive.

hitch squints a little bit, pure concentration written all over her features as she tries to put a name to the face. “oh!” when the name comes to her, her hand meets the back of your shoulder in a kinda hard slap, totally unintentional, of course. “jean, kirschtein! you know, from-” a hiccup interrupts her introduction, making her burst into a quick giggle. “-the oil company.”

the pieces begin to come together, you know the names all of the elite; the braun’s, the leonhart’s, the ackerman’s, names listed amongst yours and names you close deals with. clans with power, influence, wealth, distinction.

he, jean, is walking over now; casual with an easy stride that shows he’s in no rush, he’s confident. he pays his respects to the girl of the hour, congratulating her on her new playhouse before her attention is diverted by another guest calling her name to get her to come over there. hitch slips off, but not before discreetly tapping your lower back in excitement; an unspoken ‘get him.’

“jean,” he introduces himself, extending his hand in a polite greeting. “i wanted to speak to hitch, but i wanted to talk to you, too. you are breathtaking.” his eyes drink you in, from head to toe, even though they’ve been roaming your frame since you first caught his attention. the heir simply cannot get enough. “but you get told that a lot, yes?”

“thank you.” your lips spread into a small smile, one hand slipping into his larger one as the other pulls off your sunnies, sticking one of the arms down into your top. “i’m ___” jean bore a lean swimmer’s build, dark navy beach shorts hung low on his hips, and his tanned skin decorated with a dusting of faint, brown freckles over his body. years of private villas and yachts, no doubt. he was impossibly tall, too, you find yourself having to gently tilt your head back to see his face fully. it was cute from afar, maturely handsome up close. was that a faint hint of a mustache? it was hot.

jean repeats your name slowly, enjoying the feeling of that line of syllables rolling off his tongue. “i’d love to get to know you more. ___, you’re so beautiful. i have to impress you somehow. name it,” his other hand comes up to rest of top of yours, successfully encasing it in a gentle hold. an excuse to touch you just a little bit more. “i’ll make it happen.”

your smile becomes a grin, and your dark eyes glint mischievously under your delicate lashes. one quick test, because where’s the fun in not initiating one? you just want to see what he’d say, pick at his brain. what sweet words will he spin from his golden cords now? “but jean,” you begin softly, “what if i was the type of girl that liked a man that took control? told me we were doing this, at this time, on this day, and in my prettiest red dress?”

“it’d be rude, ___, at least in my eyes, to so quickly assume i had a right to your time, and drag you around this way and that. allow me the privilege of occupying your time, and space.”

before you can catch it, one of your expertly threaded and sculpted eyebrows quirks up in mild surprise. you beckon him a bit closer to your face with a wave of your acrylics. “good answer,” you tease, honeyed voice playful and whispery. “phone? i can put my number in, and we can talk about how you can try to romance me when i have my schedules laid out in front of me.” you watch as he fishes the device out of his shorts pocket.

you were captivating afar, but up close with your tawny skin soft, glittery, and emanating an intoxicating vanilla scent, your dark eyes glistening with mirth and playfulness… it makes jean’s body go into some type of shock, his heart plummeting to his feet and his blood running cold but racing through his veins at the same time.

“well then,” you chime as you save your digits into the millionaire’s phone, the contact simply your name with no bells or whistles to adorn it. “i hope we can get to know each soon, mr. kirschtein.”

jean thinks that pearly white smile will be the death of him.

…

every year, no matter what, your father throws his annual christmas party. you long assumed that it brings him a special type of happiness because your normally humble father goes all out for them, each year being better than the last. he flies out the best chefs in the world to cook for hours, orders the tallest, greenest tree for the foyer, and has the house cleaned til someone could check their reflection in the perfect marble floors. when it comes to this, the man skimps on nothing.

you take it upon yourself to make the most of it, requesting custom design dresses from the most exclusive sewing tables over in Europe, shoes fresh from the runway. only the very best for you, the heiress, the crème de la crème, the girl who has never known the word no.

“dance with me?”

you had been absentmindedly swirling your wine glass by its delicate stem, attempting to place its origin (red, tart-like with its cranberry flavor and a strange orange bite near the end), when you’re approached. once you turn your head, you’re meet with striking green eyes and a sharp little smile.

“you looked bored, and that’s what these parties are for, right?”

eren yeager, the german-american son of grisha and carla yeager, 2nd generation genius neurosurgeon with a net worth in the 7 figures, and the just-as-talented, third generation wedding gown designer. according to the rumor mill, after graduating in the top of class in one of those ivy’s upstate, he gallivanted across the country (no, the world) as the not-so-favorable yeager son. of course, there are entirely too many eyes on the yeager clan for grisha to do too much of anything and a son can do no wrong in a doting mother’s eyes; so eren is left free to his disagreeable desires. everyone wonders how long that will last.

steely dark eyes and your naturally neutral face does nothing to deter him. you decide to indulge him, slipping your hand into his and raising up, allowing him the luxury of whisking you to the dance floor. “i guess i don’t see why not.”

“great.” his hand is soft and a little cool against your own, the woody, cedar notes of penhaligon the inimitable gently wafting off his skin and pressed shirt. unbeknownst to you, a few pairs of eyes bore into yeager’s back. the arrogance he has to whisk you away so early into the party, especially with it being his first one. if eren was the wiser, he’d revel in their envy.

there’s a handful of other couples waltzing across the floor when you two arrive. your fingers thread through his as his free hand finds a respectful place on your waist, blessed with the feeling of the smooth skin exposed by the opening in your dress.

no matter how much money your father makes, he’s an old black man at heart. old r&b plays from the expensive sound system he had installed, tevin campbell’s can we talk playing through the speakers. the irony of the situation isn’t lost on you. nonetheless, you hum nonchalantly to the tune and glide around the floor with your partner.

“i gotta ask, do you enjoy these things? or does your dad put you up to it?” your arm is held above your head and you’re spun around in a quick circle before being guided back to eren’s chest. face still impartial, you nod your head towards your five o clock, the wavy blonde strands dangling from your delicate updo tickling your face. a table teems with gifts for you and you only, bachelors from afar vying for a wisp of your attention with shiny, expensive gifts. they fail to realize that a girl like yourself isn’t so easily bought. but, it’s their money not yours, and few things in life bring you greater joy than pulling ribbon and wrapping paper from luxury brand boxes.

“of course i do. i’m not ‘put up’ to anything. i dress up, i get my presents. what isn’t there to love?” manicured hand splayed across the man’s back, you’re dipped towards the floor. you’re one to give credit where credit is due, yeager is a good dancer; the confidence in his movements isn’t a lame front and he maintains the delicate balance between taking the lead and dragging his poor partner around. since this is suddenly an interview, you have questions of your own. “when i have time to go through them, will i find your name on anything?”

“of course you will. be pretty damn rude to show up to a party empty handed. especially when it might be my only chance to get a gift for the princess.” a name your normally cringe and scrunch your nose at sounds surprisingly nice passing by his lips. he grinned boyishly. “no hints.”

“i can wait. for your sake, i hope it’s no ring. it’s going straight into the garbage.” just the thought of such a “present” makes your blood want to boil. who raised these “men”? i mean honestly, what brain dead fool buys a ring for a girl who didn’t even know his face? and expected her to wear it? you would sooner die and go to hell first.

“no way someone is that dumb. you’re fucking with me.”

“what do i have to lie for?”

"well, taking a look at these guests, i take it back. some of these bastards look dumb enough to pull a stunt like that." eren scans the array of guests over your shoulder, and you can't even feign offense for your father's sake. scanning over a guestlist for former flames and explaining why you didn't want them in attendance would take too much time, and you really didn't feel like explaining "relationship troubles" to your dad of all people. loved him as much as you did that really wasn't his business. besides, watching them shiver and skulk away from your disinterested and annoyed glance made up for everything. "are you a betting woman?"

"did you waste grisha's money on a degree in journalism?" your eyebrows furrow and eren laughs again.

"you're funny, ___. most of our peers aren't so witty. and if it so pleases her majesty, i want to bet on the odds of one of these dumbasses putting a ring under your tree." eren's green eyes stare down into yours, gleaming with playfulness, mirth, and confidence. "what do you say? someone does, and we can go on a date, just us two, and you can smile and laugh a little bit."

"and if there's no ring?"

"i'll leave you alone and fall in place in your long string of broken hearts."

luck has always been on your side. look at the family you were in born in, the riches that are your birthright! the universe has never dealt you a bad hand and surely wouldn’t start now. and worse case scenario, you hang out with one of the few men that can mark your plump lips twitch in the shadow of a giggle. “fine.” your brown eyes meet his green, and neither of the waver. “deal.”

several days later, gifts from around the globe surround you. handbags, shoes, dresses, envelopes bursting with cash; you’ll have to tell your dad you need some walls knocked down in your already spacious closet to make room for more. amidst all this, though, a godforsaken ring is gripped between your fingers. if looks could kill, it would melting and dripping from your grasp. holding it like it’s contaminated, you snap a picture to send to yeager:

‘i’m free the 3rd weekend and tuesdays.’

…

as temperatures rise again, you spend the next few months allowing jean kirstein and eren yeager the luxury of whisking you away when your schedule permits.

the former is a bit... old fashioned, in a good way! you're led off to slow paced, cozy dates; the two of you roaming italian streets, attending shows in their original opera houses, he never strayed you out of the bubble you two were born in. it was casual, soft, predictable in a good way.

eren on the other hand, spent money like it would burn through his pocket if it sat there too long. he spent money like a man who just felt its crispness in his palms and was addicted to the feeling, knowing deep down it'd never stop flowing for him. you're frequenting the night scene in your tight, revealing dress, his firm hands on your hips as you two grind to the pounding beats. shopping spree dates that lasted all day, if your hand so much as brushed it, it was bought, packaged up, and in the car. spontaneous flights abroad, stealing you away for weekends. it was exhilarating.

they both provide the things you're looking for. jean is the type of man you imagine yourself settling down with one day, when the whole young and turnt shtick melts away into something more domestic and slow paced. he has gentle hands and treats you so delicately, softly. his reliability will be something you can learn to lean on and need.

eren could possibly be that type of man too, but for now he has a fire, impulses that keep you oh so entertained. having everything in the world gets boring, and eren brings that spark that you crave.

you ruminate at your vanity. hair tied down and tucked away under a silky soft bonnet, you run your gua sha across your moisturized face, long sweeping strokes that end with a gentle tug. eye masks rest on your face, your feet clothed by a exfoliating mask, and a fluffy robe envelopes your body. you stare at your reflection, you're the only one who gets you.

you're really at a crossroads. you choosing between something is unheard of. you're ___, you get everything you deserve and want tenfold. you like jean, you like eren. the way they look at you with such adoration, how their hands and lips caress your body, the sweets words they declare, and how every promise they've made to you remains unbroken, oh how they must certainly feel the same for you.

as greedy as it may make you sound, you want both. your cake and to eat it too. two of your richest peers fawning over you day in and day out, them caring for you and you caring for them. them loving you, and you loving them. it’s a dream that will be your reality.

…

after a long day at sea on one of many jean’s yachts, the sun beaming down on not only the beautiful blue water but the two of you, entangled in each other’s arms, docks at the private harbor.

you’re running your fingers through your french curl braids as jean talks to one of the dock’s attendees, slightly sleepy from your sunbathing session. the gentle breeze of the day brings the smell of saltwater up to your nostrils and you hear seagulls squawking from spots on the wooden posts. obviously, a day at the water leaves you craving seafood, juicy lobster tails with a decadent pasta on the side. your daydreams of the soon to be dinner are interrupted by an extremely familiar “yo!”

heads turn, and it’s none other than eren striding across the dock’s walkway towards where you and jean are standing. his green eyes shine at the sight of you, the hot pink of your two piece bikini a perfect contrast to your skin and showing curves and bends he’d worship for the rest of his life. oh, and jean’s here too.

another woman might falter, her heart catching in her throat and sweat beading up on her flesh as her suitors stand before her, but you’re the epitome of calm, brown eyes smoothly meeting eren’s. there’s no ring on your finger, and besides, you know what you’re after right now.

“haven’t seen you in a while, yeager.” knowing it’d be cliche, jean fights against the urge to wrap a protective arm around your waist. “done gallivanting the world?”

“seen all there is to see kirschtein, and you say that like it’s insult. what use is money if it just sits in accounts collecting dust.” eren looks at you again, god you’re a sight for sore eyes. “especially when there’s a woman like her to spend it on.”

jean’s eyes can’t help but to roll. what a cornball. “well, good chat, but ___ and i are on a little time crunch. i’m taking her to niccolo’s, especially after being on the water.” his hand slips into yours, taking charge but not tugging you along. you’d be lying if you said you didn’t like this side of him.

“well, now that you mention it, i could go for some niccolo’s too.” eren’s grin is shit-eating. what a cute dynamic these too have, one you know has a bit more bite to it when a lady isn’t in their presence. “how about i join? matter of fact, my treat.”

“that won’t be necessary.”

“i insist.”

“you two would argue all day if i let you,” you interrupt this small tussle, and now their attention is back on you. a manicured hand raises up to cover your small yawn. “like an old married couple.”

“it’s all in good fun,” eren’s shoulder nudges jean, and if jean had lasers for eyes, the youngest heir to yeager fortune would be a pile of dust before your feet. “we go way back.”

jean ignores him entirely, but eren finds it hilarious. “what he’s suggesting is insane, ___.”

you give a gentle shrug of your shoulder, coyness at the ready. “it’s nothing serious, it’s a lunch date between friends, and i bet you’d like to catch up.”

jean’s jaw tenses. he turns to you completely as eren looks on curiously. “i think it’s a sign that you say that, ___. i’ve been meaning to have this conversation with you for a while. yes, we are friends, but i want to be more with you.”

this moment, with the waves crashing across the dock, the sun illuminating the two of you, jean clasping your hands tight, would’ve been a soft, tender, picturesque one had it not been for eren’s booming laughter.

“oh, so now this is a pissing contest, huh, jean? well, since we’re confessing feelings, i have my own to speak for you.” his outburst breaks your gaze, and you and jean both turn in unison. “___, i want you to be my girlfriend, and i’ve felt this way for a while. i’ve been waiting for just the perfect moment, but i can’t let this jack-off take this one for himself right?” comically, you’re put between them, each of your hands in theirs.

“i…” this takes tact, a delicate way of stringing together words and honestly, with their eyes boring into yours, you find yourself falling just a touch short.

“i respect any decision you make,” jean assures.

“___, i will do anything for you,” eren promises.

any decision. anything.

you bit your bottom lip, hands minutely twitching in their clasp. you lean in neither direction, at the center of them. “any?”

and then there’s a beat of silence. and everyone’s looking at each other. this feels like a scene in a sitcom, something that should be accompanied with a laugh-track, but there’s no closed mouth that’s been fed.

“because in the time i’ve gotten to know both of you, i’ve begin to care for both of you. and i’ve made great memories with the two of you. i know i could make even more. i don’t value any time spent with you over each other’s.” your voice shakes just a tiny, tiny bit, vulnerability creeping in. “you too make me… so happy.”

eren cuts the silence first, ever the impulsive one. “i’ll do it.”

“you cut me off,” jean quickly interjects. eren really puts him on his toes, ignites an aggressive fire deep within, steps on just the right nerves. “i’m doing it too.”

“i said i’d do anything.”

“and i said i’d respect any decision.”

“okay!” you voice crashes down like a gavel. “okay. i’m glad that you two are hearing me out,” a smile tugs at your glossed lips, this feels so easy and lighthearted, a stark contrast from the seriousness you impose upon yourself. already, you feel yourself loosening up, because the two of them bring out the true, relaxed you like nothing else can. “but for our sanity the bickering needs to come down a notch before we all kill each other, yeah?”

two strong pairs of arms envelop you. it takes some effort, but you wrap your own around the two of them. three heads together, you find yourselves laughing. a weight eases of your shoulders, but not because you got your way, but because you know this is the death of a mask created by the circle you were born in. a mask that hides the love you can feel in an attempt to guard it.

“well, we won’t kill you.”

nov 13. 2021. nov 9. 2023. i nearly gave up. i almost threw in the towel. but goddammit she’s done. praise god.

#eren jaeger x black reader #eren x black reader #eren yeager x you #eren yeager x reader #eren yeager x black reader #jean kirschstein x black reader #jean kirschtein x reader #jean x reader #jean x black reader #🏙.aotmodern #🧸.aotfluff

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ghostofthemost141 · 5 months

Text

Essence

Pairing: Ghost x F!Reader, First POV, no use of (Y/N)

Word Count: 2,264

Themes: Fluff, Comfort, Suggestive Themes and talk so !18+!

About: After Simon comes home from a rough mission, you decide to pamper him.

Notes: I feel like Ghost would be vulnerable to his partner after they have been together for a long time because mans has a lot of pent up trauma and emotions he needs to let out. Name for you here is Sage. And I am sorry if this feels rushed, I just have been busy and wanted to get this out. Enjoyy!!

“Si..”

I almost didn’t see him walking through the front door as I was in the kitchen. His shoulders were flat and his movements were slow and monotone.

“Sage..” Simon softly said as I placed my hands on his chest.

“Love, take all this off of you.” I suggest, messing with the clips of his tactical vest.

“Hm.” Simon mumbled as he let me unclip his vest and pull them off of his chest.

“I’ll take it.” Simon said.

I nodded as I handed him the vest and he went and put it in the garage. I just hope he is up for some warm homemade soup that I made. Tomato soup with some grilled cheese. It was a rainy, cold day so soup was a good call. Simon likes my cooking, I just hope he is alright with it. Simon came back in, all of his gear gone from his body.

“There’s my racoon.” I joke, referring to the black paint that was still around his face.

“Oh shite.” Simon chuckled.

“I made some homemade tomato soup and I can make grilled cheese if you want.” I told him as I followed him into the bathroom.

“That sounds lovely. I’ll take a grilled cheese, if you don’t mind.”

Simon turned the sink on to carefully wipe the face paint off so as to not stain the white sink we have. I leaned in and kissed his cheek, quickly but passionately.

“Of course I don’t mind, Si.” I reassure him.

His doe brown eyes stared into mine, but I could tell he was tired. Very tired, but he was happy to be home.

“I’ll give you a minute and go make your grilled cheese.” I announce.

“Thanks, Sage.” Simon thanked me.

I smiled at him as I turned, left the bathroom and went into the kitchen. Even though I am always happy for Simon to be back home, I always give him a minute or so to be alone so he can wind down and decompress and become Simon Riley again and not Ghost, even though that mask of his looks so damn sexy on him. Both the skull mask and the balaclava skull mask. I smeared some butter on both inside and outside the bread, put a slice of cheddar, muenster, and american cheese into the bread, put it together and put it face down onto the hot pan on the stove. Suddenly I felt a pair of hands behind me, but I didn’t fret.

“Simon, you scared me.” I half joked, “your alias name is true to its name.”

Simon chuckled, leaning his face into my neck, placing a kiss on it. Although I love Simon, he was being overly affectionate this time. I wonder if something happened while he was deployed. I felt his hands land on my hips, massaging them. He always knew what spots to get with me. I flipped his grilled cheese, a perfect golden brown color being revealed.

“Just how I like ‘em.” Simon said, feeling his hands sink lower.

I pretended to not notice what he was doing, but I was secretly enjoying it. Simon’s hands then went down to my ass, his big hands cupping each cheek.

“Simon Riley!” I jokingly disciplined him.

“Wha’, my love?”

“You’re gonna make me burn your grilled cheese.”

Simon just chuckled, kissing my neck passionately.

“I missed ya.”

“I missed you too, Simon.”

Simon moved his hands around my waist, brought me close to his chest, and he leaned his head onto my neck, just holding me. Simon's grilled cheese was done and I took it off the pan and onto a plate. Simon remained silent but it was normal once he got the ‘I missed you so much’ hug and kiss out of the way when he first got home. I like to think it's his brain trying to decompress from being out in the field and remind himself that he is home now. Simon and I sat at the dining table, eating in silence. I wanted to converse with him, but I also wanted to give him as much space as he wanted before overwhelming him. I noticed then that Simon had finished his bowl of soup and his entire sandwich.

“Did you like it?”

“I did. It was the best bloody fucking thing I had in a long time.” Simon commented, making me chuckle.

“Do you want some more? I made plenty.” I offered.

Simon went silent, eyeing the big pot of soup that sat on the warm burner on the stove. He shook his head.

“Are you sure?”

Simon nodded again, without speaking.

“Is everything alright, love?” I ask, reaching for Simon's hand and holding it.

Simon held back softly and gently as if he was afraid I would crack easily like glass.

“Yes.”

Just by his plain response, I could tell he had a rough mission, whatever it was that he did. He tells me some but I don't want to know a whole lot unless he wants me to know. Simon silently got up with his dishes and went and put them on the sink, washing them.

“Love, go sit down and relax.” I half joked, approaching him.

Simon didn't say anything. He just kept washing his dish.

“Simon.” I called him.

Finally he stopped, turned and looked at me. I was about to demand to talk to him, but his doe eyes stopped me in my tracks. They pierced mine, as if he was trying to non verbally tell me something. His shoulders were down and his body was limp. Relaxed.

“Let's go freshen up in the bath. Hm?” I suggested.

Simon did a half smile.

“Okay.”

I cleaned up the soup mess quickly and then led Simon to our master bathroom. I held his hand the whole time and I could feel his body relaxed but tense at the same time. I knew asking him about what's wrong would be useless. He will tell me when he wants to.

“Bath or shower?”

“You pick, Sage.”

I wanted to dedicate this to him and him only, even if he thinks he doesn't deserve it. I walked over to the faucets and turned them on, making sure the water was at a good temperature. Once it was at a good hot temperature, I pulled the drain plug up to clog the hole.

“Oh.” I mumbled as I turned around to see Simon undressing himself.

“Wha'?”

“Oh nothing.” I smirked as I walked up to him.

I placed my hands on his chest, feeling his rough but soft skin. Simon didn't bore a six pack but he was definitely muscular in the arms and upper chest. He was good looking to me no matter what but his chest has to come to be my favorite pillow. He had a few scars on his chest due to his years in the Task Force but I think they make him more attractive and they each tell a story that he has already told me.

“You're so pretty.” I mumbled, rubbing my hands up and down his chest.

“I'd like to think that you're prettier than me.”

“Stop it, Simon. You're beautiful.”

I planted a small kiss on his shoulder, hearing a soft rumble come from him. I turned back around to find the tub was full so I went and turned the faucets off. I stood there and waited for Simon, who was left in his boxers.

“You gettin’ in?”

“You first. I want to pamper you.”

Simon was a little surprised by my response but obliged. He then pulled his boxers off of his body, and slowly stepped into the bath, wincing in the process.

“You okay?” I got close to the tub.

“Y-Yea’. Just bloody fucking sore.”

“I'm sorry.”

“Not your fault, love.” Simon said.

“Where are you sore at?”

“Me back.”

I immediately went through the bathroom cabinets and drawers, eventually finding what I wanted. Massage oil.

“I got you, Si.” I say.

Simon eyed the massage oil and then back to me.

“Please.”

Simon grumbled as he leaned forward, giving his back full access to me. I put some oil onto my hand and rubbed it onto his upper back.

“Hmhm. Fuck.” Simon grumbled.

“Is that it?”

I immediately felt stupid asking that. No, Sage, that can't be where it hurts the most if he curses in pain.

“Yes. Right ‘here.”

I don't know how Simon tolerates me with some of the stupid shit I say but he does. And to this day he still loves me. Hearing confirmation from Simon, I started rubbing the oil more onto his back and dug my fingers into his back harshly but gently at the same time. Simon groaned in pain every time I moved my fingers and I felt bad but I know it's needed and he will feel better once I get done. My fingers were absolutely slick with the massage oil as I was pressing and moving my fingers into the middle upper part of his back, close to his spine as that's where most of his pain resided.

“Oh fuck, love.”

Did..Did he just? What he said immediately went straight to my stomach, my face burning red and warm. I know he did it out of pain and relief from his back, but my God did he have to say it like that?

“You okay, Simon?” I ask, trying to forget what he said.

Simon sighed deeply as he leaned back, his head resting in between my legs. He opened his eyes and stared upright at me.

“I am now.”

I giggled, moving little strands of his blonde hair out of his face.

“Did that help any?”

“Yes. Thank you, Sage.” Simon thanked me.

I leaned down and planted a kiss on Simon's lips. Suddenly feeling his teeth nibbling on my lips. I pulled back to see Simon with a shit eating grin.

“Maybe later~” I say with a smirk.

“You tease..” Simon mumbled, raising his head up and facing forward.

“Now,” I started as I washed the massage oil off of my hands and reached for his shampoo, “tell me how your operation went.”

I could hear Simon sigh, but he should know me by this point. I always want to know how his missions went, even if he can't tell me much about them. He remained silent as I squirted some of his shampoo into my hand, rubbed my hands together and began lathering the soap into his hair.

“It was..a mission ‘lright.” Simon mumbled out as I got down to his scalp.

“How so?”

Come on Si.

“Well, we had to rescue some hostages.” Simon started.

I squirted some more shampoo into my hands due to Simon's thick ass hair.

“Oh shit, how did that go?”

Simon was silent once again as I finished washing his hair. I have always wanted to call him Goldie Locks but I'm afraid he would kill me for that. Still going on without saying anything, I rinsed my hands in the bath water.

“I need to rinse your hair, Si.” I told him.

Simon scooted forward as I sank down and silently cursed at myself, being forgetful of the fact that I was still wearing jeans as I sat down into the bath. Oh well, you're lucky you're worth it Simon. Simon leaned all the way back till his face was above the water still. He remained in strong eye contact as I rinsed the soap out of his hair. His eyes were a gorgeous brown, I could get lost in them.

“Done.” I announced and Simon rose up, his back facing me.

I sat on my knees and grabbed some of his body soap.

“The mission went good. All of the hostages were saved and unharmed. But..”

“Hm?” I say as I started to lather his body in soap.

I could hear him wince a little bit, but not as bad as he did earlier.

“There..there was a kid.”

“Yeah?”

“Youn’ kid. Couldn’t have been older than five. When Johnny and I were trying to calm down the hostages, the kid kept latching to me. Even though I had a skull mask on, the bloody kid wouldn’t let go ‘f me. Even when he got reunited with his mum, the kid wouldn’t let go of me.” Simon explained as I finished bathing his body.

I felt my heart race a little bit as Simon told me all of that. We never really discussed having kids. The conversation has certainly came up before though and Simon was iffy about them. But the fact that most normal people are terrified of him, rightfully so, but a young kid latched onto Simon during a scary moment in their life warmed my heart.

“He knew you were a good and kind soul during that scary moment.” I say, rinsing his body off.

“Yeah,” Simon chuckled, “cause upon my appearance you’d think I would be a good and kind soul.”

“You are to me.”

Simon sighed deeply, not out of annoyance but more as he was processing what happened.

“You’re a good man, Simon.”

I leaned my head onto his shoulder and wrapped my arms around him. Simon held my hands, just embracing into my touch. I kissed his shoulder, as a gentle reminder that I was here for him and always would be. No matter what happens with him or what becomes of the both of us, I would always be here for him. Simon Riley. Simon. Riley.

“Thank you, love.”

END

#simon ghost riley #cod #simon ghost riley x reader #callofduty #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #cod modern warfare #call of duty #cod x reader #modern warfare x reader #ghostofthemost141 #simon riley #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x you

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captainpulisic · 1 year

Text

take my hand, wreck my plans - m. mount

gif credits to owner word count : 2.7 k

you had grabbed masons phone because he had asked you to. he had texted one of the boys a question hours ago and asked you to check if there was a response. there wasn’t anything strange about this, you and mason were friends who were close enough to check each other's phones. he was too occupied playing fifa, anyway.

yet, as soon as you put in his passcode and his home screen greets you (a picture of the both of you with summer), a notification pops up at the top. its a message from a… priscilla?

tomorrow is good for me, i can’t wait <3

you stare at the screen in shock, even long after the message has disappeared from the screen. of course you expected mason to be talking to girls, why wouldn’t he? he’s handsome, charming and really nice. you should feel happy for him, he deserves to find someone and maybe this priscilla is that someone. okay ouch, just the thought of that being true hurt more than you had anticipated.

“what’d chris say?”

“hm? oh yeah,” quickly diverting back to your original mission. “he said no, to ask kai.”

mason hums at that, finishing his latest game. before he can start another match, you lean your head on his shoulder, facing him.

“so, wanna hang out tomorrow?” you ask, nonchalantly.

“er i can’t, sorry love.” he pauses before continuing. “i have plans.”

“what type of plans?”

“with a friend, might meet up with them.”

“you have other friends besides me? i thought only i had the privilege of knowing you.” you feign shock. “do i know who this lucky person is?”

his cheeks get a tint red, “you don’t know her, i think.”

you poke his cheek at this, “her? you have plans with a her? sounds like you have a date to me, masey.”

he rolls his eyes, “she texted me back didn’t she?”

“hmm? I don't recall what you’re talking about.”

“you're just so nosey, aren’t you?” playfully, he taps your nose twice. you both can’t help but laugh as you continue to feign ignorance.

giving him an innocent smile, “i do have a nose, thank you for finally noticing.”

“smart ass.”

you keep up this charade. laughing and teasing him about his impending date because if you really thought about it, you’re sure you'd want to lay down and cry. you love him, you’ve loved him for quite some time. and just because you’re too afraid to admit it doesn’t mean he can’t find someone who will tell him they’re interested. mason deserves to be loved, and to be told he’s loved. and you love him just enough to stand aside and let him be loved by whomever he wants, even if it's not you. it’s all very bittersweet.

“it’s getting late, I should get going.” you begin to grab your belongings, forcing a smile in his direction. before he can protest, you’re already heading down the hallway. he’s not slow to follow. “hope your plans go well.”

he pulls you in for a hug and kisses your nose when you pull away, “text me when you’re home, okay? bye nosey.”

as you begin the short distance to your own flat, your heart hurts even more. thoughts full of mason and her won’t leave you alone. how can someone so beautiful make you feel so horrible?

the next day, the grey clouds are more present in the london sky than ever. a perfect reflection of your horrid mood. barely forcing yourself to get up, you hear your phone buzz with a new message.

getting ready for my plans :) just wanted to let you know that the boys are getting together later tonight at the usual spot. they want you to stop by and I do too. friend and I will probably head there after.

okay, that hurt. how can he say ‘i want you there’ but then mention he’s bringing his date along? he truly will be the death of you, you swear. before getting the chance to type up some half hearted response, an incoming call from sophia pops up.

as soon as you accept, “she lives!”

“hey soph, everything alright?”

“no, we haven’t seen you in forever!” sophia scoffs, “mason keeps you all to himself!”

you can barely make out kai in the background, “the lover boy has to let everyone know she's taken.”

letting out a dry laugh, you tell sophia to tell kai to shut it. “yeah, well my supposed lover boy is currently on a date with someone else, so.”

“oh, that’s not-”

cutting her off, not wanting to go into more details of masons love life, that doesn’t include you. “are you guys going to this thing later tonight?”

sophias lovely voice is undeterred, “of course, we are! why? aren’t you?”

“i’m not entirely sure,” you hesitate. sophia was one of the few people you told about your unreciprocated crush. she always told you tell him, to put yourself out there. she swore on all the stars that he felt the same way, that ‘it was obvious to everyone’ mason was in love with you. she promised that you two were meant to be, you both just couldn’t see it yet. in a low whisper, “what if it’s weird? he’s bringing her by, he told me himself.”

you hear kai protest, followed by several moments of shushing and heated, argumentative whispers. you stand by while you hear them lowly bicker and sophia send him away. tone full of sympathy, “i don’t know why he’d bring her but you should still come. we’ve all been wanting to see you and i know mason will be really disappointed if you're not there.”

as if she can hear your internal battle with your thoughts, she adds a hopeful, “please?”

“oh, alright. just please don’t leave me alone with them at any moment.”

the club is too noisy for your liking. the music is louder than usual and there's twice as many people. everyone seems to be having a good time, trying to forget the string of bad luck they’ve had with recent games. well, everyone except you. your mind is running a mile a minute, dreading the moment mason shows up with her.

this bad feeling wasn’t going away, especially when you realised everyone was here, minus him. was the date going so well that they had lost track of time, lost in each others presence? were they already in love and eloping? god, you needed another drink.

you’re sat at one of the booths, opposite sophia and kai. she’s kept true to her word, sticking by you to make sure you’re not alone when the impending doom comes. they’re both drinking and enjoying the night, making sure to include you in all the conversations. you’ve tried to contribute and match their moods, not wanting to bring them down. it just wasn’t working. your brain won’t shut up about mason and it’s become quite depressing.

kai slides you a shot glass filled with who knows what, “drink, you’ll feel better.”

trying to muster up a genuine smile, “thanks, I just don’t feel too well tonight.”

sophia and him exchange a long look before they give you a sympathetic smile. they’ve seen the sadness in your eyes and how you keep glancing at the entrance behind them. you can see them having a conversation, an argument with their eyes. sophia reaches across the table to grab your hand, “we can leave, want us to walk you home?”

“no, stay, enjoy your night off.” you begin to get up and gather your stuff. trying to give them your best, fake smile, “it’s not far and I could use this time to think.”

“going straight home?” kai ask, not looking up as he’s too busy texting.

“straight home- i'll text you when i’m there.” you direct the last part to sophia, giving a small wave as you leave the booth.

stepping out into the cold night, you’re met with a busy crowd of people walking on the sidewalks. the world seems so happy tonight, even the stars are shining bright. it’s as if they're all mocking you right now.

as you continue down the road, your traitorous mind begins to think about mason. you’re reflecting on your unrequited love, on how he’s never shown to feel the same about you. the universe was cruel for having you meet the sweetest, most handsome man on the planet and making him just your friend. every step you take brings forward a detail you love about him. how he throws his head back when he laughs, how he actually laughs with his whole body. how he always has to be touching you one way or another, let it be a hand on your lower back or your pinkies interlocked (something all good friends probably do, right?). another step, another thought of how he’s always the first person you want to tell good and bad news to. once, he confided that he thought the exact same thing about you, and said he “just wanted to tell you everything, always”. you’re positive you’d follow that man to the ends of the earth.

years of pining and yearning and obsessively waiting for just a crumb of attraction back. that’s all you’ve ever asked the universe for. you scoff to yourself as you round the street to your flat. if the universe was ever so kind, it’d deliver mason to your doorstep, wrapped up in a bow.

once you’re stood in front of your door, you keep true to your word and dial sophias number.

“hey soph,” you can barely hear her response, the club music bleeding out from the background. digging your keys out of your bag, you continue, “well, i just wanted to let you know I just got home.”

“oh, uhm good,” she sounds hesitant. “is mason not there yet?”

what?

“no.” you trail off. “why the bloody hell would mason be here?”

instead of answering, she hangs up. or maybe the signal was too weak that the call disconnected. still confused by her question and lack of answers, you call her again. no answer. you call again, no answer. more muddled than before, you dial kai’s number. maybe sophias phone just died?

too busy cursing kai for not answering either, you don't hear the car parking right in front of you. the universe was being too cruel to you today, it was really unfair.

when you do notice the looming car in the dimly lit street, you panic. frantically, you’re trying to find your pepper spray as a shadowy figure gets out of the car. your voice cracks, “don’t come any closer! i’ve been trained in the arts of karate!”

“you took one lesson when you were nine, spare me.”

you hear masons laugh as he says it. your body betrays you and instantly relaxes when it hears that wonderful sound. it feels like home and spring and everything nice.

“mason,” you're confused and sad and in love and your heart won’t stop beating a mile a minute. in seconds, he’s met you at the tops of the stairs. “what are you doing here? didn’t you have those plans with your special friend?”

“i did.” the idiot has the audacity to blush. cheeks rosy and he’s looking very shy all of a sudden. gone is all the confidence he’s always oozing. “but the more time i tried to spend with her, the more i realized i couldn’t be there because i was in love with someone else.”

“cheers.” you force a weak smile. “good news for you, bad news for your friend.”

you don’t know what else to say. knowing he’s on a date with someone hurts but him flat out telling you he’s already in love with a different girl? it’s a knife to the heart.

mason looks at you in disbelief. he couldn’t believe you weren’t getting what he was trying to confess to you. “yeah well, i told kai to try to stall you while I got to the club but he texted me, freaking out, that you were leaving. told me to come straight here, instead.”

“why?” you take a step back, anxious about where this is going.

“why?” he repeats, taking a step closer to you. “so I could tell the girl that I love, that I’m stupidly in love with her. and to hope she’ll say it back.”

“you’re in love with me?” you’re barely able to whisper. you have to point a finger to your chest, still not convinced he could be talking about you.

“yes,” he takes another step closer when you take another one back. “I kept dragging the date along, hoping to feel an ounce of what I feel when we’re together and I couldn’t. I probably sound like a complete prick saying I realized my feelings for you while on a date with someone else, i’m sorry. but I just kept wishing it was you with me, I kept hoping to hear your voice. I love your voice, have I ever even told you that? because I do, it’s really lovely. just like your face, I think your face is really lovely. everything about you, really.”

he was rambling, and gods help him, it looked like he hadn't exhaled once throughout his whole speech. you kept trying to say something, hoping to give him a chance to catch his breath. but just like him, your brain was short circuiting.

“you love me?” was all you could manage. your mind still couldn’t comprehend this was truly happening. the universe couldn’t be this kind.

“I have for the longest time, I was just too dense to realize it.”

“oh god, mason!” you can’t help but laugh at this bizarre situation. “i’ve loved you since forever but I didn’t think you felt the same. ask sophia, she knows. kai probably knows, too.”

“no way,” mason shakes his head, looking down at you. “he would always tell me to ask you out but i’d tell him you’d never see me that way. he called me stupid many, many times.”

“so everyone knew we were two idiots that couldn’t see we loved each other?” you look up at him, baffled. at this point, he had trapped you between him and the front door. him pressed against you, hands sneaking around your waist. instinctively, your hands find their way onto his shoulders. his body heat was making you feel dizzy, you didn’t even try to fight the lovesick smile on your face.

“‘m afraid so, love.”

from an outsider's perspective (sophia and kai and, basically, the whole team), it was kind of endearing how you two could be so dense to such obvious pining. yet, at the same time, very frustrating.

you had imagined kissing mason millions of times. you imagined how soft his lips would be, if those ridiculously expensive breath mints he was always chewing really did taste like strawberries. you had spent countless nights dreaming of how he would hold you, of how gentle or in control he would be.

for the first time tonight, you decide to have courage and meet mason halfway. here he is, putting his heart on his sleeve and the least you can do is the same. bodies already together, all you need to do is raise your tiptoes and brush his lips. it’s shy and nervous, more of a touch than a kiss. that’s not enough to satisfy mason, though. not wanting to wait any longer, his hands go up to your head and bring your mouth to his.

and your imagination? nothing compared to the real thing. it’s messy and desperate and you feel both of you smile into it. oh, those stupid mints really do work.

you only pull away when it is absolutely necessary for air and not a second sooner. both of you adorn stupidly sick smiles as he tries to chase your lips. trying to find something to say, you’re at a loss for words. your mind hasn’t been able to recover, mentally doing somersaults. you finally have him, the way you’ve wanted him for the longest time. so why speak? nothing else has to be said right now. you both know everything you want to say to each other. in a way, you two have always known. plus, how could you say anything else when he’s already leaning in for another kiss?

loving mason was a wonderful thing but having him love you back? the gods and universe and fates couldn’t have given you anything more heavenly.

#mason mount fluff #mason mount #mason mount x reader #mason mount imagine #mason mount x you

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xjustakay · 8 months

Text

(9/7) prompt: early — 1,461 words (nsfw; explicit sexual content; shower shenanigans) @jegulus-microfic

Regulus knows that James had the day to work from home, but when he gets back to their flat, it’s quiet inside. The lights are off in the living room, the late afternoon sunshine slanting through the blinds. There’s no clack of computer keys, no overlapping voices of a Zoom meeting or phone call. James isn’t at the table or even on the couch. Upon listening closer, Regulus realizes that the shower water is running.

Which is perfect actually, because despite the fact that his last class of the day got abruptly canceled, allowing him to head home before he usually would, it’s been a long day. Overly priced course reading, pretentious teachers, and an obnoxious group project already assigned; he’s fucking done with this whole university thing and he’s got a long way still to go. Finding his boyfriend in the shower and being able to join him feels like exactly what he needs.

Regulus leaves his school bag in its usual spot, toes his shoes off just inside the door, then heads to the bedroom. He’s halfway stripped out of his clothes before he’s even in the adjoined bathroom. Seconds after he pushes the door open he freezes, thumbs hooked in the waistband of his briefs and darkened eyes staring toward the distorted glass of the shower.

James must not have heard him come in over the sound of the water. Or perhaps he’s too focused on his current task, as Regulus can make out the shape of exactly what James is doing beneath the shower water that’s filling the bathroom with steam. James hums, low and throaty, unintentional more than likely, and Regulus feels like the sound drags down every groove of his spine, making him shudder faintly.

He watches for a few seconds, can just make out the distinct shift of James’ one arm as he tugs over his cock in quick strokes. Another soft groan from inside the shower has Regulus hurriedly shimmying out of his underwear and moving to the door. As soon as he carefully slides one side open, it’s James’ turn to freeze. Wide eyes land on Regulus where he stands outside the shower still, the hand James has wrapped around his heavy, leaking cock halting.

“Well, don’t stop on my account,” Regulus murmurs slyly.

There’s zero shyness in the way that he takes James in. Every inch of him on display where he’s half-turned toward the open door, there’s more than plenty to look at. Water rolls down his tan skin, steam dances around him, and he’s honest to god a picture perfect wet dream right now, naked and dripping with his cock in his hand and nothing but undeniable want in his gaze.

James exhales a punched out breath, eyes dragging down over Regulus’ naked body. His hand glides along his cock in a slow pull, teeth grazing his bottom lip before he says, “You’re home early. I was supposed to have two hours to myself.”

“I mean, I can go and leave you to it, if that’s what you really want.” Regulus points with a thumb back over his shoulder.

“Fuck off,” James huffs, half a laugh, teetering into a groan when he tugs at his cock again. “Get in here.”

Regulus definitely doesn’t need to be told twice. James turns fully to face him, hands immediately curling at his waist and tugging. There’s no time for Regulus to adjust to the heat of the shower water on his skin before James is leaning down to kiss him.

Immediately, James licks into his mouth, two matching moans bouncing off tiled walls as they get a taste of each other for the first time since early this morning. One of Regulus’ hands grips at the back of James’ soaked hair. After a few seconds, he yanks at it sharply to pull him back. He doesn’t go far, mouthing along the edge of James’ slightly stubbled jaw until he gets down to his neck and bites.

James moans, long and loud, as Regulus sucks his skin between his teeth, leaving his mark on him in the way that he so loves. Their cocks slide against each other when James’ hips jerk forward, seeking out friction he’d been giving himself moments prior. Regulus swears under his breath right into the curve of his neck, already just as hard as James is.

His opposite hand scrapes down James’ chest, clipped fingernails over one nipple earning another moan before he moves all the way to his intended destination. The moment Regulus’ long fingers wrap around James’ length, a whine escapes James’ lips.

“What were you thinking about?” Regulus keeps the motion of his hand along him slow, tantalizing. He’s dragging this out now that he’s got the chance. “Tell me.”

James hisses when the pad of Regulus’ thumb circles the slick head of his cock. “Shit— You. Always you.”

“Oh, you can be more creative than that, baby, come on now,” Regulus teases. “What was I doing?”

It’s clear that James is having a difficult time with this, already worked up from getting started on himself before Regulus got there and made things harder for him. James drops his forehead against his, water from his hair dripping past the fluttered blink of Regulus’ eyelashes.

“Was I doing something like this?” He goads him further, quickening his strokes for a few seconds then slowing back down again.

James sucks in a shallow breath, head shaking against his. “Not your hand.”

“My ass then?” Regulus hums. Pulls his hair again to jerk his head around while the other doesn’t let up. “Thinking about how you fucked me so good last night you left me aching all morning?”

James moans between parted lips, no words available to him, it seems.

Regulus grazes his teeth along his jaw in a path to his ear, licks hotly down the shell of it. “Or maybe it was my mouth, huh?”

James’ fingers press harshly into his hips, inevitably painting new purple over what already twinges slightly beneath it. Regulus will never tire of those ten little bruises coloring his skin, reminding him of the fucking perfect hands that left them there.

“Was that it, then? Thinking about my mouth on your dick?” James knocks his forehead down against Regulus’ shoulder, grips his hips so tight it nearly hurts. “Picturing how pretty I look on my knees for you while you fuck my throat, make me cry with it?”

“Regulus, Jesus fucking—”

“I can give you that, baby, just say the word.” Regulus squeezes around the base of James’ cock and revels in the way James shudders in response.

“M’not gonna fuckin’ last at this rate,” James manages after a low groan.

“Mm, at least I’ll get to taste it.”

The shower water’s gone lukewarm as it pours over them, but Regulus is on fucking fire as he drops down and wastes no time taking James into his mouth. He pushes forward as far as he can, relaxing his throat, nose brushing a familiar trail of dark hair. James grips at his dripping curls with both hands and thrusts shallowly right there at the back of his throat again and again and again.

As warned, he doesn’t last long, managing little more than five or six thrusts before he’s crying out with his head thrown back, spilling down Regulus’ throat as he swallows every drop eagerly. As Regulus pulls off and inhales a ragged breath, there’s still a thick string of drool connecting them for a moment before the raining water between them rinses it away. Regulus blinks a single built up tear loose from the corner of his eye, hazily looking up at where James is slowly working to catch his breath.

“Happy I got home early?” His voice is positively wrecked, but he knows that’s one of James’ favorite ways to hear it.

James’ laugh teeters on delirious as he shakes his head. He leans forward to extend one arm and brace his hand against the shower wall. His other hand tucks beneath Regulus’ chin so he can trace his thumb over reddened lips slick with spit.

“Probably just as happy as you’re gonna be when we get out of here and I realign your spine again,” James murmurs.

Regulus hums and shifts from his subtly aching knees to stand back up. He takes a brief moment to kiss at the corner of James’ mouth before he purposefully turns his back to him. Regulus knows exactly what he’s doing when he wiggles his ass back into him then tilts back to loll his head onto James’ shoulder.

“Wash my hair for me first, I earned it.”

James laughs again, wholly amused this time, but he does exactly what Regulus asks.

#jegulus #jegulus microfic #*jazz hands* back at it again with dead of night smut microfic #been a few days since i did these had to come back with a bang #the shower is clean but the talk is dirty #what a time #kay’s microfic #kay’s writing

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leclsrc · 1 year

Note

we need need neeed a charles variant of the media naranja fic :( just a multiple lives au even just a drabble or a headcanon auds audrey big a please only u do this shit justice

bec this has been rotting and i needed to practice writing :)

divine sense – cl16

Charles is always led back to you. title from this

“Your mole is nice,” he says, cutting himself off and thinking a bit more on his words. “It sits just there, on the corner of your eye.”

“Really? God.” You poke at it, rub over it even if it sits relatively flat and unassuming and a bit tiny. “I’ve always hated it. People mistake it for leftover eyeliner or mascara all the time, and it’s—whatever.”

“It’s pretty.” His gaze could light you on fire and water it down all at once. “It’s one of the first things I noticed about you. Granted, I thought it was a, uh, how you say? Mascara, yes, that flicked off your eye a bit, but now it’s just there. I like it.”

A slow smile creeps its way onto your lips and you bite it back, to no avail. “Thank you.”

“It’s the reason why you look so familiar to me.” My mole? You ask, your head turning to the side a bit. He nods. “I don’t know why, either. I mean, clearly we didn’t know each other then. But something about you—you’ve always felt familiar, I think.”

“I have?”

The trees are greener in the spring, but they’re thin still, not yet too thick with leaves that will fade into orange and die and fall. It’s perfect, Charles thinks, because then the sun filters perfectly through the green of them and shines through the blinds and onto your face, smiling tenderly and warm and waiting. Your eyelashes cast a shadow across the rest of your face and he could stare forever.

“You have.”

—

“Did you get mascara on your eye?”

“What? Oh. Fuck, no. This—it’s a mole.” You turn quickly to the mirror. “I know, it looks a bit like it, yeah.”

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude.”

“It’s all good. So, Charles, right?” You reread the application sheet and stretch a hand forward to shake his. “My new roommate… taking up Architecture.”

“Yep.” He smiles proudly, the emblem of your university front and centre on his sweatshirt. “I hope this doesn’t sound weird, but have I met you before? You just look a little familiar. Mole and all.”

“Oh.” Instinctively, you reach up to touch the area on which it sits. “I don’t think so, sorry. Um, but in my Lit class, we did have a discussion about how… like… moles are places where you were kissed in your past life.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah.” You smile up at him. The fall breeze filters through the open living room window, blowing tendrils of hair over your face that you’re quick to brush away. “Granted, I don’t know who would want to kiss an area like this.”

“You don’t?”

And maybe you’re a bit loopy from the drive, or hungry from waking up early, or maybe not at all. Maybe Charles the college roommate is messing with you, or maybe pulling a prank, or maybe not at all. The sunset today is beginning to tint the room and his pretty face a muted orange and you could stare forever.

“I don’t.”

—

Your first time in Italy is marked by a series of ugly firsts: first catcall, mistranslation, scam, blistered heel. But you make it, despite it all, to your foster family’s farm estate, all old vine-caked buildings and stables and lemon trees. You spot somebody poking their head out of the upstairs window but the mop of hair disappears just as quickly.

The door is answered by Pascale—the one you’d been corresponding with prior to today. With her is her husband, Hervé, and two sons, one of whom is somewhere in the house getting your room tidy, she says apologetically. You’re quick to quell her apology, sated by the ice water and bowl of fruit (Hervé says something about picking them all out himself; Arthur, the younger one, pulls you aside with a boyish smile and says it was actually him.)

“Lorenzo is off at university for summer classes,” Pascale explains when she’s putting the second spoonful of pasta on your plate. “So I am stuck with Arthur here, and Charles. He’s about your age, yes? Twenty-two in October.”

Charles descends into the kitchen talking in rapid Italian to his mom, that only tapers off when he sees you at the table. You smile, dopey, raising a careful hand to wave.

He stares.

“Vieni a sederti,” Pascale says, pointing to the empty seat beside you. Shyly, he takes a seat and fills up his glass with water—then yours.

“Oh,” you say. “Thank you.” Your gaze travels to him, and find he’s already looking—at the corner of your eye.

“It’s a mole,” you clarify with a quiet, pretty laugh. “Are you excited to take me around? Pascale says you’re my tour guide.”

“Sure, sure.” He laughs. “Where do you want to go?”

Hervé has played some Italian music on his vinyl, so it’s what scratchily plays through the dining area, accompanied by the scent of garlic and lemon and olive from the trees outside, blowing a gentle breeze through the archway of the house.

You turn away from his green eyes to answer one of Arthur’s questions, peppering chili flakes over your aglio olio to twirl and deposit into your mouth. One red flake stays on your lip and he imagines swiping it off with his thumb. Your eyes meet his again, gaze amused and gentle and Charles could stare forever.

“Anywhere, really.”

—

“Oh, honey,” you whine playfully, letting your husband crowd you against the counter of your kitchen, peppering kisses all over your face. “Missed me that much?”

“You know I did.” He parts from you, and even if he's taller his gaze seems to convey looking up at you, adoration and love crowding his green eyes. A hand caresses your jaw, cheek; his thumb rubs over the corner of your eye. The blank skin there, unmarked, unblemished.

He kisses it. His favorite spot. “I woke up this morning thinking about you,” he says fondly.

“About how I left you in charge of changing Mila while I slept in?” You tease lowly, forehead pressed to his.

“About how in love I am with you,” he says honestly. Your heart pulses. It was never a whirlwind of love for either of you. It was slow, warm, familiar. Hey, you.

Despite that, he means it, you know he does, he’s never failed to show just how much. When he wakes up early to change Mila, or when he takes charge of the stove when you’re sleepy. When he lets you walk him around the winding avenues of Manhattan to get cookies or a good coffee or a better beer. When he watches you sing karaoke tipsily, Billy Joel or The Smiths. The way he memorizes every part of you, the way he knows you. Any and all of the love Charles ever had and ever felt always answered to you.

Lips meet the corner of your eye again. “You know that? I love you. You changed me. You know that, right?”

You could stay forever, in the dusk of the city, questions suspended in the air to be lovingly answered in the lifetimes to follow. They will come, though. You can stay for now—you’ve done your waiting for a love like this.

You smile. “Right.”

#f1 #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc imagines #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc drabble

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luveline · 2 years

Text

bright white stars | sirius black x reader

summary sirius wants you to sit on his face, and he’s very convincing

warnings nsfw (18+ please) shy!reader, fem!reader, oral fem receiving, idiots in love, praise, fem!reader, she/her pronouns used for reader [word count: 2.9k]

He convinces you like this.

You’re slouched on the sofa with him, sideways, your leg pulled over his leg, his hands absentminded but devout where they massage your thigh. He’s driving you insane in the way his pinky finger will occasionally brush up against the apex of your thighs because he genuinely doesn’t seem to notice that he’s doing it.

You’re turned on to the point of no return. Luckily, the music he’s playing is enough to hide your rugged panting. It’s all over as soon as he turns his head — Sirius knows you too well. If he sees the look on your face, spots the amorous twisting of your traitorous mouth or the way your eyes are screwed closed, he’s going to tease you within an inch of your life.

His hand pauses a hair's width from your core. You’re not sure if you should be relieved or disappointed. Disappointed, you decide, when he starts to talk like nothing has happened, thought to him nothing has happened.

“I’ve been thinking about something,” he says, voice quiet but firm, more serious than he usually sounds.

“Dangerous,” you say, a little breathless.

“You think you’re so funny,” he says, though he’s smiling. You crane your head to watch him lick his lips. “You can say no, obviously.”

That doesn’t inspire confidence.

“D’you wanna sit on my face?” he asks, finally turning to look at you.

You suppose you’re still a mess from wanting, and though the suggestion horrifies you, you must look pretty turned on by the idea. A grin stretches across his lips, so pleased that you almost go along with it.

“You want to?” he asks, excited.

You wince. “Sirius, I can't.”

“You could.”

“I couldn't.” You shake your head. The idea is tantalising and taboo to you. Letting him eat you out is still new, still scary in its newness, even though you really, really enjoy it.

He pouts. “It’s just like letting me eat you out, but you’re on top.”

“I’ll crush you,” you say with a nervous laugh.

He sighs forlornly but recovers fast, hand pushing up to your slick, clothed cunt as he squeezes your leg tightly. “That’s okay, sweetness. Tell me if you change your mind?”

You nod, biting your lip to stop from moaning aloud. He notices, smug son of a bitch, and squeezes harder. You’re unsurprised when he rubs against your cunt with the flat breadth of his palm and smiles, saying, “I got you so bad. You think I didn’t notice your little noises?”

It’s not long after that when he tries again.

“What part are you afraid of, doll?”

Crushing you. Squishing you. Suffocating you, you think.

You don’t manage to say any of this. You’re in his bed, the two of you freshly showered. There’s been a smattering of sweet goodnight kisses and the lights are off — you hadn’t been expecting to continue this conversation tonight.

“We could practice,” he says. You laugh under your breath at him and he smarts, “I’m serious. You don’t have to undress, just practice sitting on me. It’s not as scary as it sounds.”

He sounds so soft and you’re secretly desperate to try it under all your anxiety. You’re tentative as you say, “I’ll sit on your chest. Your chest.”

“Sounds perfect.”

It’s completely quiet, the only sound’s your breathing and the crinkling of fresh sheets being pushed back as you climb out from under them. Sirius gets comfortable and pats his tummy, voice quiet like he’s afraid to spook you. “You got it. Right here, sweet thing.”

Your legs fold, one on either side, thighs spread out over his ribs. You’re in your underwear and a small vest top, scanty enough to be embarrassed about. Still, it’s better than being naked.

Sirius reaches out and flicks on the bedside lamp. You hold your breath as he takes you in, eyes running down the planes of your face, your chest, lingering on the flesh of your thighs.

“My eyes are up here,” you mumble.

He barks a laugh. “Sorry. How are you feeling? Wobbly?”

Far from it. Sirius has brought his hands to your waist, effectively clamping you down. Not that you’d fall without them, you’re hardly towering over him. This isn’t so different from straddling him.

“Come closer?” he asks softly.

You shift closer, your heartbeat loud in your ears. His hands move to your hips, the very tops of your thighs as you come into range, his mouth striving forward for a quick kiss against your leg. You go a bit blind, the idea that he’s so close to your core sending a rush of heat through you.

Sirius runs his hands down your legs. You brush the long hair from his face carefully, distracted by his pretty face. You’re soft and slow as you go, tucking black kinks behind his ears with the barest touch of your fingertips. When you lean forward, you can feel your cunt press against his chest. You’re so embarrassed by this point you don’t think you'll ever be able to sit on his face, deep in your thoughts as he kisses your wrist, paused above his mouth. You pull it back, looking at your skin like there might be a mark, a kiss print, but of course there isn’t.

Sirius smiles gently. “Get out of your head, pretty.”

“Are you sure I’m not too heavy?” you ask, too loud. Trying to draw away from your obvious arousal.

Your volume gives you away. His soft smile turns knowing, and his hands grow tighter on your thighs. He pulls one towards his searching mouth and you move closer still, sighing when his mouth connects, opens, and he plants big scraping kisses along your inner thigh, making his way slowly inwards.

Your brain melts. You're worried about what he’ll find if he looks, knowing this anticipation is noticeably turning you on. He doesn’t look. He plants small chaste pecks over the lightly bruised flesh he’s left in his wake, your one thigh pulled so close to him that you’re skewed on top of him.

His hand brushes the waistband of your underwear, fingers hooking in the elastic. He pulls them lightly away from your skin, teasing you as he runs his fingers back and forth.

“Sirius,” you whisper, seeking comfort from your boyfriend, who also happens to be the one causing this overwhelming feeling. He nods into your skin to show he’s listening. “Siri, I can’t do this.”

He lets his head fall back into the pillow, looking at you with his face showing no emotion, his hand reassuring on your leg. “‘Cos you don’t like it or ‘cos you’re embarrassed?”

You hate him. “Can’t it be both?”

“Baby, we won’t do anything you don’t want to do,” he says, eyes locked with your eyes, nodding, “yeah? But…” His hands coast down your thighs and pull you in, your weight settled just before his neck. His eyes flick to your underwear and then back to your face, trying to hide his lopsided smile from you. “I can see that you like it.”

The time it takes you to understand his meaning is very small. You don’t mean to, but you bend over him and hide your face in the space to the right and above his head, groaning to yourself, alight with shame. Sirius says, “Oh, bub,” and his hands come up to your back. You can feel his lips and their heat on the slice of uncovered skin at your waist.

This is it. This is the embarrassment you can’t recover from.

“It’s okay,” Sirius says, laughing. You seize up, your arms wrapped around his head. You hide your lips in his hair and grumble, eyes burning. Sirius pulls you closer - and how much room could there possibly be left? - hugging your waist.

It’s not the worst hug you’ve ever had. In fact, it’s a strange position, but it’s nice.

“Is it bad?” you whisper.

“No, my poor girl,” he laughs again, “just a little damp patch. I’ve done worse to you.”

"I'm sorry."

"Why are you sorry?" he asks. You hear him catch himself, like he's going to leap into comforting you but thinks better of it.

You flounder. "I didn't mean to."

Sirius pats your back and you take it as a symbol to remove yourself, though he seems mildly frustrated when you move onto his ribs again. Too far away to cradle your face when he reaches, his hands find yours. He twines your fingers together, his eyebrows furrowed.

"I like that you like this," he says.

"But it was only supposed to be practice."

"Loving you isn't something I need practice at.” You scowl at him because he's being cheesy for your sake, and he amends, "Okay, turning you on isn't something I need practice at. I'm actually quite good at it, wouldn't you say so?"

You nod, your cheeks burning.

"I meant what I said, I would never have you do something you don't want to do."

"I know that," you say sheepishly.

"I know you know. So we can go back to bed, if you want to. This was a good practice," he says, smiling.

You bite the inside of your bottom lip, breathing harder than you realise. You squirm without thinking, uncomfortably wet.

"Or I can take care of you. Whatever way you want," he says, quieter. "You don't have to-"

"Okay," you say. "Okay."

You use your knees to climb up and take off your underwear. It's difficult to do and you can't look at him as you go, but after a moment you find yourself with your knickers around one calf and your heat pressed to his shirt.

You chance a glance at your boyfriend. He looks surprised and pleased and dark, his eyes smug.

You spread your hands open over his chest. "I love you," you say, though you meant to say something cool, like don't let me fall.

Sirius grins. "I love you," he says. "Kiss?"

You move cautiously down to kiss him, feeling like every brush of fabric is electric. He kisses you once, twice, his lips practiced. He knows everything you like.

"Thanks, bub," he says as you pause, hovering just above him, "but that's not where I meant."

He's a fucking liar but he knows how to get you.

"Sirius-"

"Come on, baby. I won't let you fall, alright? You know I won't."

You take a deep breath, watch your own chest expand and shake your head, thinking, fuck it.

You crawl towards Sirius' face. He smiles with his nose crinkled up, altogether too pleased as his arms slide under your thighs. You let him guide you down.

"Tell me if you don't like it," he says, the heat of his breath on your cunt.

You've just enough wits to say, "Okay," breathlessly.

He starts with a kiss. You're still hovering, refusing to put your full weight down on him, and you really can't look at him or you might burst. You stare at the wall with your eyebrows pushed up at the starts, hugging yourself.

He's very slow. He kisses the skin outside of your clit, his open mouth burning hot as he presses his lips together over your skin. You shudder as he finds your clit, giving it a little kiss and then pulling the bead into his mouth.

Your hands leap for the headboard. Sirius pulls your cunt to his face properly, fingers cruel in the dough of your thighs. You know he's saying relax.

Your breath hitches and you feel his laugh vibrate through you, which causes another hitch.

His tongue appears suddenly and searching, licking hot stripes from the well of slick at your entrance to your clit. He laps your cunt and his hands tighten like he can't get close enough.

You gasp as he suckles on your clit, forcing yourself to look down. His eyes are closed, his face bobbing against you. You scoop the hair from in front of his face and hold it away, pulling a little as he nibbles you lightly.

You make a sound you hate and he adores, his hand searching up your thigh. Your knees are either side of his head at this point, thighs already trembling from his ministrations.

He kisses your skin, the bottom of his face shiny with a clear sheen. His eyes open to find you already staring at him pleadingly.

Sirius grins. "You taste fucking amazing." You shake your head but he doesn't stop there, hand pulling at your arse, licking up a dribble of slick. His voice is husky when he says into your skin, "So fucking wet." More like he's talking to himself than you. "My pretty pussy, dripping all over me."

He gets a glint in his eye, his hand coming up to play with your clit while he talks. While he teases. "Gotta kiss you all clean before you ruin the sheets, sweetheart." He laughs like he's having a really good time and you laugh, too.

"Shush," you say, stroking his hairline.

"Alright, I'll be quiet. Y'make enough noise for the two of us, anyway," he mumbles, pressing his mouth to your heat again.

You really do feel like he's kissing you clean, his mouth searching and licking all over you, sucking at your wet entrance, climbing over your clit. His suckling builds, your hips rock without meaning to and he groans into your heat at the sounds you're making, breathless moans, pleading little sounds for him to keep going.

He hits a long pull of pleasure that has you seeing bright white stars, neck arching as your eyes close. His grip is bruising, keeping you still where every instinct is to squirm, ardent in his exploration.

He hums into you. You keen, instinctively moving away.

"Ah," you say, like you've been burned.

"Come back," he says jokingly, then with a small pout, "come back."

"Don't do that," you admonish.

"Why? Don't like it?"

"No, I'll…"

"S'like that's the whole point!" he says, rolling his eyes. He braces his hands under your thighs and spreads you a little wider, giving your cunt a big kiss as he says, "You gonna cum on my face? Please?"

"I hate you," you say, shuddering as he starts eating you out again.

You whimper as he goes, knowing you're a slick mess and he's likely worse, rivers of pleasure moving all the way from your cunt where he laps to your chest to your throat, eyes slipping closed over and over. You fight the overwhelming pleasure, hand in his hair and hips twitching, cunt grinding against his mouth.

You know what he's doing before he starts, almost singing into your clit. You wobble as his own body moves behind you, his hips searching upwards for you. You want more than anything to make him feel as good as you do right now but know the offer would be met with indignation, having tried before, especially when you're on the precipice of an orgasm and he's trying everything to give it to you.

He pinches your clit between his lips and you feel the barest hint of teeth. You seize up around him, thighs squeezing his face and hips locking down, tugging his curls spitefully as you cum, moaning so loudly you have to bite your index finger to smother it.

You pant over and over, bent, trying not to collapse. "Oh, Siri," you say tearfully.

And then you remember your poor boyfriend underneath you. "Oh!" You flinch and almost throw yourself backwards, a tangle of your legs and his arms as you roll off of him and onto the bed.

“I’m sorry!” you say.

You think he might be dead for the split second he lies there motionless, then he sits up and his face is covered in you, and he wipes his face with the side of his hand and smiles a shark-tooth grin.

You hold your hand to your sensitive cunt without thinking and his eyes follow.

"You sound so fucking hot. You know that? Fuck, I'm gonna ruin you. Come here," he says.

You smile despite yourself and crawl into his open arms, mess pressed over what you can feel is his hard cock in his boxers. You set about wiping his face dry with the end of your shirt.

"You just flashed me," he informs you kindly.

You flush from head to toe and drop the hem though he's laughing loudly, a barking chuckle that you adore.

"No! Don't cover up, I wanna see 'em. They're just as pretty as your lovely cunt."

You slap his chest lightly. "Stop it."

He's smiling as he presses his lips to your warm cheeks, a peppering of kisses. His skin is wet despite your attempts to dry him off, and he smells unmistakably of sex.

"You like it," he murmurs happily.

You wrap your arms around his neck and nestle your nose into his skin. "Nah."

"Shut up. You're a fucking lousy liar."

That makes two of you.

You giggle, the high of being loved and being pleasured mixing into one. You push down into his lap and grin when he hisses, mocking as you say into his throat, "I was promised a ruining."

"Now you're brave? Fine. Remember you asked for it."

𝗆𝖺𝗌𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗍

thanks for reading ❤️

mrauders taglist: @marimorena06 @glimmering-darling-dolly @siriuslystfu@thatblackravenclaw @touchdeprivedwh0re @vi0letblu3s @mooncalvin @gaysnowrose @thatonecomfyjumper @set-myself-on-fire @decafcoffew @mischiefmanagers @cordiformity @froggyy06

#sirius x you #sirius orion black #sirius black x reader #sirius black x you #sirius x reader fluff #sirius black imagine #marauders era #marauders #sirius black drabble

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divine-misfortune · 5 months

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Feminization but it's an act of love, not a play at humiliation.

Making Swiss know that he's handsome as a boy, of course he is, absolutely perfect, but Rain wants him to know he's just as lovely when he's being a pretty girl for him.

Taking the day to pamper Swiss, make him really live in the experience of being treated like a princess. Paints his nails, shaves him smooth (which takes longer than either of them really anticipated), does his makeup, oh Rain takes such good care of him. Doesn't make Swiss lift a finger, even goes as far as to dress Swiss himself. Oh Rain takes great pleasure in being the one to roll those stockings up his muscular legs, chuckling as he snaps the elastic against his thigh.

And when all the hard work is done, Rain sits him at the edge of his bed facing the mirror. Drapes himself over his back, arms around his neck, nuzzling sweetly against his cheek as he coos over the pretty girl he is. Swiss, used to a much harsher version of Rain, feels far more embarrassed over kindness than he ever has from his cruelty (and that's saying something). When his eyes shift away from the mirror, Rain tsks at him and with a hand under his jaw guides him back.

"Want you to look at yourself." He kisses at his temple and noses into his hair, breath close to his ear. "See how nice you look for me, always so rugged and handsome but now you're-"

"Pretty..." Swiss exhales as he looks at himself and the way his knees draw together. His hands are folded in his lap, sitting respectfully as an excuse to press down against his cock already beginning to fatten up against its lacy confines. The word sent something sharp and hot zipping down his spine, excitement, nerves, anticipation.

"Mm, that's right...Knew you could be pretty too, absolutely beautiful babygirl."

The petname makes Swiss' eyes go wide, gold irises darkening.

Rain smiles coyly as he runs his hand flat along the curves of his body, over the simple white dress he'd picked out, to settle over the mutli ghoul's folded hands. Adding to the pressure, Swiss' red painted lips parting to curse as he ultimately melts into Rain's embrace.

"Gonna make the perfect pillow princess, I know you are." He purrs as Swiss' hands give way to him, slowly beginning to stroke the length of his cock through lace and cotton. It's enough to have Swiss' eyes fluttering as he nods weakly. "Is that what my sweet girl wants?"

"Fuck...Rain, please." Swiss almost tries to buck upwards, greedily find a way to fuck into his fist despite the layers between his dick and Rain's hand.

"You know how to ask for it, love. Use your words, just like I taught you."

Visibly hesitating, Rain gives his shaft a little squeeze and Swiss can't help the sad warbled sound of need that escapes him or the pearl of pre starting to form a wet spot on the dress. His gaze fixes on the slow almost torturous way Rain strokes him, lips left parted as his brain struggles to keep up. The little pressure of his thumb dragging over the head of his cock, only adding to the damp patch, is the last little bit of encouragement needed to make Swiss fold.

"Please, please fuck my cunt, sir...I've been a good girl."

Well, the blood rushed from Rain's head so fast he nearly blacked out.

#this ran away from me.........idk #anyways #void rambles #spicy tag #rain ghoul #swiss ghoul #multi ghoul #nameless ghouls #rulti #rain/swiss #cw feminization

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the-record · 25 days

Text

MARCH.

SUMMARY: even after all that time, she still sees him in everything that she does.

PAIRING: ellie williams x gn!reader

WARNINGS: angsty :((

A/N: new lizzy mcalpine came out and this is what yall get! havent wrote angst in a minute so dont tell me if it sucks!

TRYNA FIND THE LESSON IN IT ALL, BUT I HAVEN’T LEARNED ANYTHING

it’s eerily silent as you walk in at the end of the day.

normally you both head to joels for dinner, a vinyl plays while he cooks, ellie bothering him the whole time. or tommy and joel talking about anything and everything on the couch. ellie learning a new song.

but it’s different now.

the kitchen is empty, a lone bowl on the counter near the sink. the couch ellie begged him dor is empty, but the ghost of him is in the dip on the far side, a pillow propped up neatly. ellie doesn’t say a word, doesn’t make a sound. she’s a lot quieter.

she’s in bed still, staring at the ceiling, mouthing something you can’t decipher. when you sit beside her and run a hand through her hair she tries a smile. it falls flat, not the same.

ellie finds a kind of comfort in the quiet, your fingers gently untangling the knots in her hair. she can’t stand the idea of his music without him, but a tune he hummed constantly is stuck in her head.

you whisper about your day when she asks. tell her the chores you did, about what you’ll have to eat tonight. she hums when need be, content to just listen to your voice fill the room.

ellie goes to joel’s the next day.

the new place is good, though not really new now you’ve been here so long.

ellie likes the sheep, a sweet reminder. she takes good care of them and you. she puts on a vinyl every morning while you eat breakfast. she perfects the songs joel taught her.

she tries her best to understand why, take a lesson out of it. makes the best of a bad situation. she doesn’t tell you whats in her head.

she doesn’t tell you that she sees him out the window talking to the sheep, gone with a blink. she doesn’t say that she can hear his voice mix with yours when you sing while cleaning. she doesn’t say that she feels like time has gone backwards, making her younger instead of older.

ellie watches in silence as you harmonize while doing the dishes, a small dance as you go. its dorky, her staring and you, but she loves it.

her mind is more peaceful than it used to be, he doesn’t haunt her daydreams the same way. ellie finds herself behind you, hands winding around your waist and falling flat against your stomach. she hums as she presses sweet kisses in your neck when you go quiet.

“keep singing,” she says. “i love listening.” and so you do. she grabs a tea-towel and finds her way next to you and dries the clean dishes.

she’s paused, admiring you, when his hum fills her mind. she can almost see him pouring a drink while you chat, the song just background noise.

“els,” she snaps back to reality. you question her, ask if she’s okay.

its too quiet when you wake. ellie’s usual heavy breathing not there to lull you back to sleep. ellie not there at all beside you in bed. it knocks the wind out of you as you move out of bed and down the stairs.

a bag is on the counter in front of her, packed. the jacket around her shoulders is his. the floorboards creaking stops her in her spot. hearing your shaky sigh turns her around, her face sullen and eyes tired.

your hands shake as you move to her, a watery smile and shaking hands grabbing her face. you move into her space, pulling her tightly into a hug. she’s slow to reciprocate, but her hold is tighter than yours when she does. hands rub small circles on your lower back.

she knows what you wanna ask before you do. “i need to go alone.” you’re still, breath stopping for a moment, but you nod.

you breathe her in before pulling back, your hand finds her face again. her eyes slip close as you press your lips to the corner of her mouth.

ellie can’t look back when she leaves.

#! kates babes !#ellie williams x reader #ellie williams #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams x you #ellie x reader #ellie williams tlou #🌿 older 🌿

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familyvideostevie · 10 months

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🐚 SEASHELL: let's look for beautiful things on the beach! send me a line from a book, song, or movie/tv show and a character and i'll write a short (<1k) blurb for you

“ so why don't we go somewhere only we know.” - from somewhere only we know by miki ratsula with Eddie <3

hi darling!! there are so many great versions of this song but i had not heard this one! it's lovely! so here is something for you, also lovely: eddie whisking you away at a party for a quiet moment

You've found pretty much the perfect spot to wait for Eddie. The kitchen is crowded, sure, but sitting on the counter gives you some air and a vantage point to see if he's coming back. Someone turns the music up and a few people scream at the song and bulldoze to the living room to dance. It's nice to see a bunch of twentysomethings having fun, your friends among them.

Robin looks like she's making fun of Steve's dance moves and Jonathan and Nancy are standing close in the corner, his entire body curved over hers as they talk. You know probably every other person at this house -- whose house it is you can't really remember -- so you feel comfortable enough alone for the moment.

But the moment doesn't stretch too long because you see a cloud of messy hair making its way towards you. You sip your beer patiently, swinging your feet a little where they hang off the counter. It only takes moments for Eddie to appear in front of you. He puts his hands on your knees and takes a comically large breath as if he's run a marathon.

"Christ," he says. "Bathroom line was a mile long." He flashes you a grin and tosses some hair from his face. "Miss me?"

You pretend to think about it. "I don't know," you say. "Who are you again?"

He mimes stabbing himself in the heart with a dagger. "Way harsh, sweetheart. Guess you don't want to see the cool-as-shit thing I found."

You hop from the counter. His hands ghost at your hips to help, then he grabs one of your hands. "Very funny," you tell him. "Now show me the cool thing."

Normally he'd mock you a little, tease and ask you to say please -- to which you'd refuse -- but he must actually be excited because he just starts to tug you through the crowd. No doubt many of them think you're going upstairs to fool around. You sort of wonder if that's what's going to happen, too.

But Eddie leads you up the flight of stairs and down a hall and into someone's bedroom. There is no one here.

"Whose house is this, anyway?" you whisper. Eddie shrugs.

"No idea," he says, full volume. "But I saw this from the street when we got here and thought it was a good spot."

You almost protest when he shoves open a window and you actually do when he climbs through out onto the roof. "Eddie!" you hiss. "Are you serious? You could fall!"

"I won't," he says, eyes bright. He reaches for you. "Now you. I've got you."

The excitement in his expression has you hauling your leg over the sill before you can think about it too hard. He does grip your hips this time, steadying you even when you're on two feet again. "Come on," he says. You look around and realize this part of the roof is pretty flat. You can hear the party downstairs, through open windows and spilling into the yard, but you don't think anyone will see you up here.

"How has no one found this yet?" you ask. Eddie stops you and takes off his jacket, spreading it on the roof before pulling you to sit down.

"No idea," he says. "But isn't it fucking great?" He tips his head back and grins. You copy him and gasp.

You have a perfect view of the stars. "Oh," you say. "Well, this beats the kitchen."

Eddie's lips ghost the shell of your ear. "It really does," he says. He drags them across your cheek and to the corner of your mouth.

"Stop that," you rasp. "I can kiss my boyfriend anytime. Right now I'm watching the stars."

He laughs and slings his arm around you. "Fair enough, sweetheart."

join the celebration!

#fvsbeachday #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfic

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mamamittens · 2 months

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Nikia has a hobby of learning new things. She doesn't always remember what she's learned, she's a little forgetful and absentminded behind the RBF, but it's pretty obvious when she's trying to memorize things.

Spending so long with little to no socialization means it's very easy for her to forget herself and get very... Weird bout learning something new. It's inquisitive and cute but also jarring to have her suddenly up close and personal to see what you're doing. Exactly how you're holding a blade to carve meat or roll dough. She's just FIXATED on what's in front of her.

This is how she learns sword play with Thatch and pistols from Izou. Sure, she knows how to hold a knife and carve. Do great damage while hunting. Or shoot a small handheld gun. But the finer details escape her. She's not confident holding the weapons. Instinctively more defensive.

It's an interesting process where they all learn a bit more about each other. Like how steady and firm Thatch is with his blades but quick as a whip. Izou a deft hand at a quick draw and steady grip. And they learn that Nikia still dances with her feet, instinct from years of dance as a child and playfulness translating to a very different style than Thatch's bold stance or Izou's unflinching aim.

Thatch ends up teaching her forms he's not that great at. A flowing rhythmic sort of style that favors reverse grips and grip changes with a twirl. She doesn't have his body strength to use his own style, so its better this way. It's a strange sort of dance and she often plays dirty by suddenly flaring her wings or obscuring her blades between feathers.

Her shooting style is more geared towards distance and hair trigger shots, so pistols are hard to get used to under Izou's tutelage. They struggle to find an intuitive style for her with much weaker guns and she ends up missing a lot. Her shots taking too long to line up so she over thinks. She just can't be patient with a gun, can't duel like Izou can against blades, lining his shots meticulously to win. She just wants to shoot their head and be done with it. He ends up finding the sweet spot with speed, helping train her wrists to handle the recoil she's used to taking with her whole body. It ends up a lot like gun-slinging in old westerns. Faster and faster until it's like you blink and miss it.

It's good exercise for them, forcing themselves to recontextualize how they fight.

Thatch still isn't okay after discovering how bad of an idea it is to encourage her to talk while she fights. He wanted banter, fun light stuff. But with all her focus on a fight, Nikia's filter dies quickly.

Sure, it's cute and flirty at first, but the... Violent intrusive thoughts really throw everyone for a loop.

"You look so cute with swords. So proud and accomplished."

"I should kiss your nose after this. You deserve to be flustered after tapping my ass with the flat of your blade."

"You have such a beautiful smile, Thatch. It makes me nervous to hold a blade to it--theres not point messing with perfection, even if I think you'd wear a Glasgow well."

"I keep getting distracted by your ankles, why do you wear slippers? One little knick and you'll never walk again--I worry about you so much, you know?"

"I hate it when our blades cross. I can feel the grinding metal in my bones and it makes me want to rip your face off with my teeth."

"I don't want to get too comfortable holding a blade to your throat. It's so easy to bleed out from the arteries there. Same for your thighs but if I manage to put a blade there, one of us has made a massive mistake."

Izou laughs at him, thinking it's about time he was on the other end of shit talk...

He definitely doesn't make the same mistake at least. Easy not to since she she's how loud guns are.

#one piece #mittens rambles #one piece oc #nikia op oc #back on my bullshit #tw: intrusive thoughts

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tempest-sun · 1 year

Text

Forever and For Always Chapter 10

A/N: Well. Its finally here. I just want to thank everyone for their patience with me in waiting for this final chapter. Life got busy and I wanted to make sure this chapter was perfect and worth the wait. Without further adieu...

Chapter 10: The Happily Ever After

Words: 2,879

Warnings: None, just fluff. A brief allusion to childbirth but nothing is described about it.

Summary: The long awaited conclusion to Rex and Readers story… for now.

Ch. 01 - Ch. 02 - Ch. 03 - Ch. 04 - Ch. 05 - Ch. 06 - Ch. 07 - Ch. 08 - Ch. 09

5 Years Later

“Again, Daddy! Again!”

Light-hearted giggles woven with the fresh summer breeze floats across the lake to the shore. You watch the scene in front of you from your spot on the spread out picnic blanket.

“Again?!” Rex says with a deep rumbling laugh of his own. He stands waist deep in the cool water. He complies with the laughing child’s request and tosses him back into the lake. The boy, your oldest son Jesse, resurfaces with a smile on his face. He swims back to his fathers side.

“My turn! My turn!”

Cody, your second child, abandons the sand castle he has been building to join in on the fun. His blonde fluffy curls bounce with each step as he runs into the lake. You watch as he swims effortlessly over to his father and brother. Rex holds out his arms lifting Cody high into the air. After all this time, you are still amazed how strong Rex’s genetics are right down to the golden brown eyes that you love so much. Thus it was an easy choice to name your sons after Rex’s fallen brothers. It was the least you could do to honour them and what they’ve done for a galaxy that will never know their names.That way their memory will always live on.

“Mommy! Mommy! Watch this!” Cody yells from Rex’s arms before he is tossed in the water. He resurfaces with a big grin on his face.

Rex looks over his shoulder back at you. His tanned face is bathed in the soft warm rays of the summer sun hanging high in the cloudless blue sky. His eyes, no longer battle hardened, have several laugh lines surrounding them since you reunited all those years ago. That’s not the only change that Rex has made to shed his old life behind. His signature buzz cut? Grown out in golden ringlets that hang to his shoulders that he currently has tied in a loose bun on the top of his head.

You shamelessly check your husband out. Your eyes skim down from his face to his body that has softened from having proper home cooked meals rather than strict calorie controlled portion bars. You didn’t think it was possible to fall more in love with him but everyday that passes proves that statement wrong. A familiar heat pools between your legs. If you weren’t already pregnant for the third time, you’d be begging him to put another gorgeous baby in you.

Rex catches you staring, sending you a cheeky wink and blowing you a kiss. You blow one in return. You shake your head at his antics as he makes a show of reaching up into the air to catch your kiss on the breeze and then bringing his hand over his heart to lock it there.

“My turn now!” Jesse sing-songs splashing Rex to get his attention.

You lay your palm on your swollen stomach hidden underneath a blue cotton sundress. You and Rex are set to be outnumbered by children in a few short weeks but you’re not worried at all. Parenthood has been a breeze so far and you couldn’t have asked for a better partner or father of your children. You thank your lucky stars everyday that you and Rex found each other. The sound of splashing breaks you out of your thoughts. You look up to see your three boys making their way back to the beach. Jesse and Cody’s puffed curls now lay flat and plastered down on their heads from the weight of the water.

“Mama! Did you see that? I flew so high.” Jesse plunks himself beside you, water droplets landing on your skin.

“I sure did sweetheart. You’re getting better at your tricks,” you wrap your arms around his little shoulders, kissing his temple.

“Can I have a snack? I’m hungry.” He crawls over to the orange striped beach bag.

“Yes but only one, I don’t want you to spoil your dinner.”

“But mama…” he begins to whine, giving you his best puppy dog stare.

“Listen to your mother,” Rex smiles, ruffling Jesse’s hair. “And get a snack for your brother too.”

“Hi baby,” you look up at your husband tilting your head up.

“Hi Mesh’la,” Rex cups either side of your face, leaning down to place a peck on your lips.

“Ewwww,” Jesse sticks his tongue out at the display of affection between you two.

Rex makes a playful huffing sound and gives you another quick peck. He reaches for a towel, wrapping it around his waist.He sits down beside you putting a hand on your bump. “How’s baby?”

“She’s finally settled, thank the Maker.” You groan, stretching your arms above your head.

“Mama, can you open this?” Cody asks, holding out the wrapped homemade granola bar in his little fist.

“Course I can,” You open it for him.

“Thank you,” Cody sits with his back against your belly as he chomps into his snack.

“You’re welcome, and good using your manners.” You look around Cody to see Jesse sitting in the sand with his unwrapped granola bar in one hand and his tiny red shovel in the other. You can tell he is getting frustrated by trying to dig without getting his food dirty.

“Lovie, come sit and eat.” You pat the free space beside you on the picnic blanket for Jesse to come sit.

Jesse pouts stubbornly. “I’m digging.”

“I know bubba. At least give me your snack so it doesn’t get sandy.”

Jesse takes a step towards you when a rustling in the foliage catches your attention. You put one finger up for him to wait. The sound is getting closer and is heading your way. Whatever is coming is taking measured steps and that can only mean one thing… Imperials. They finally made it to the Outer Rim.

“Get behind me.” Rex’s voice is dangerously low. He’s picked up on it too.

Carefully, you get up from your spot on the blanket. Reaching for Cody, you guide him next to Jesse.You stand protectively in front of them. Your eyes only deviate away from the direction of the sound to see Rex reaching into the beach bag. He rummages through it before producing a familiar shape of black metal.

You look at him incredulous. “You packed a blaster?!”

“I like to be prepared for things,” Rex shrugs, pointing the blaster towards the tree line..

“For the beach?! Where the kids could have grabbed it?!”

“It’s set to stun.”

“Like that makes me feel better.”

“Mama, what’s happening?” Jesse asks from his hiding spot behind your legs. He is holding Cody’s hand.

“Nothing my love,” you turn to squat in front of your boys. “Do you remember what we talked about if there were bad people coming to talk to mommy and daddy?”

Jesse’s lower lip trembles but he puffs up his little chest trying to look brave for his brother. “‘Take your brother and run to Cut and Suu’s house’.” He repeats what you and Rex have told him to do in this scenario.

You wish you didn’t have to say that to him but Rex made sure to have a contingency plan just in case the Empire came knocking. The two of you would hold off the Imps to give your children and your friends a chance to escape. You know your boys would be safe and loved with the Lawquanes.

“My brave boys,” you kiss each of your son’s foreheads. “Remember that Mama and Dada love you very much.” You look over your shoulder. The sound of footsteps are agonisingly close now. “And we’ll always be right here,” You point to each of their hearts. “Okay?”

They nod with wide eyes. You kiss their foreheads again before turning back towards the clearing. You keep your hands behind you with your palms on their little chests waiting with baited breath for whatever it is to emerge from the thicket of trees.

“You should go too,” Rex says quietly, his head slightly turned to look at you over his shoulder.

“If I go, you go. Till death do we part remember?” You raise your eyebrow reminding him that you did not take your vows lightly.

“So stubborn even in the face of danger,” Rex shakes his head with a tight smile on his lips. His face turns into one of concentration again with his eyes narrowed down the barrel of the blaster.

The crunching of the underbrush becomes louder as whoever gets closer and closer. You take an instinctual step back. Any moment now. You wait for the inevitable platoon of stormtroopers in their white shiny plastic armour to appear with their blasters drawn. Ready to rip away all that you and Rex have built without any hesitation.

“Woah woah woah!” A deep familiar voice rings out.

Two familiar figures emerge from the edge of the forest with their arms raised above their heads. “Don’t shoot!”

“Stay where you are!” Rex yells. His blaster trained on two of his brothers. Under his breath, he says to you, “When I give the word. Run.” His commanding tone leaves no room for argument.

“Rex, it’s us.” Wolffe says carefully. His gaze locks on to your little family shielded behind Rex’s back.

“Do you have your chips?” Rex moves to further shield you and the boys.

“We had them removed!” Gregor answers with a queasy smile on his lips. “See?” He lifts up his black curls from his forehead. Sure enough, a crude pale thin scar on the left side of his head where his chip used to be is proof that he is telling the truth.

“And you,” Rex cocks the blaster pointing it in Wolffe’s direction. “Did you remove yours?”

Wolffe wordlessly moves his hair to the side to show off the matching scar.

You breathe out a sigh of relief, the tension melting out of your shoulders. Your family is safe. The Empire isn’t here.

“Do we run now mommy?” Cody asks quietly.

You turn and crouch down to face them. “No, no my darlings. False alarm. We’re safe.” You ruffle their hair standing up. Suddenly a sharp pain in your side causes you to gasp. Not now. It’s too early.

“You guys are dikuts, you know that?!” Rex crosses the beach to embrace his long lost brothers.

“Says the one who brought a blaster to the beach,” Gregor lilts. “And what do you know, we’re uncles now!” He gestures to your boys.

“Mama?” Jesse looks at you with concern written all over his little face. It’s your turn to give him a brave little smile.

“Daddy! Daddy!” Cody yells. His little hand is on your arm.

Rex turns to see you almost doubled over, your contractions stabbing you like a dull knife knocking the wind out of you. “Y/N!” He runs to your side. “What is it?”

“The baby. She’s coming.” You grit out between clenched teeth. Another sharp contraction ripples through your body.

“This soon? Okay, okay,” Rex looks around trying not to panic. He switches into what you like to call his ‘Captain Mode’. “Cody, grab the blanket, Jesse grab the bag.” He scoops you up in his strong arms. “Gregor, there’s a pink house at the end of the street. Tell the midwife it’s time.”

“You got it, Captain.” Gregor runs down the path he and Wolffe came from.

“And Wolffe, you remember Cut and Suu? They live next door. Shortcuts through there…”

“On it,” Wolffe jogs in the direction Rex had jutted his chin towards.

“C’mon boys, hurry now.”

————————————————————————

Even though you’ve done this twice before, you are still quite anxious for the birthing process. You don’t know what to expect because with each of your boys you had vastly different experiences. With Jesse, you laboured for 13 hours before he finally made his way into the world on a cold winter's day. Rex likes to joke that Jesse was too warm to leave. Cody’s birth on the other hand was quick and easy. You barely had time to lay down when not even quarter of an hour later he was in your arms. Now that you’re going to have a girl? You don’t know which way your daughter's birth is going to go.

You lay on your bed, already changed into a thin nightgown that won’t restrict you when the time comes. Cody sits next to you laying his head on your belly.

“Baby sissy is coming?”

“Not yet but soon,” you kiss the top of his curls. “Why don’t you go see daddy okay?”

Cody slides off the bed and he runs out of the room. Another painful contraction rips through you. You let out a groan. Rex enters the room quickly joining your side.

“I think it’s go time.” The midwife looks up from underneath the sheet after checking your level of dilation. “You ready mama?”

You turn your head to look at Rex. He squeezes your hand in reassurance like he has the past two times you’ve gone through this.

“You got this my love,” Rex kisses your knuckles.

You nod and you focus on controlling your breathing as you begin to push. The birthing process passes by in a blur. You only return to reality when the piercing sound of your baby’s strong cry fills the room. You flop back down on the propped up pillows, relieved tears rolling down your cheeks.

“Congratulations, you have a baby girl.” The midwife places your child on your bare chest.

“She’s here,” you sob in happiness. “She’s here. Our baby.”

Rex snips the umbilical cord and the midwife takes the baby to clean her up. She returns with the baby who is swaddled in a white cotton blanket. She has a tiny little tuft of blonde hair on the top of her head. Rex’s genes prevailed again. “Would you like to hold her?” The midwife asks Rex.

Rex nods with teary eyes holding his arms out for his daughter. The midwife gently places the tiny bundle in his arms. “Hi there,” Rex says, his voice thick with emotion. “It’s your Buir.” He looks away from your daughter’s face for a moment to look at you, tears freely falling from his eyes. “Thank you Mesh’la.”

You watch him gently rock your daughter, your heart full and bursting with love. The baby lets out hungry wails. Rex hands her back to you so you can feed her. “I should be the one thanking you, my love.” You give him a soft kiss.

An insistent knock on the bedroom door sounds. “Mama, can I come in?” Jesse’s voice is muffled on the other side.

“Me too!” Cody chimes in.

“Come in my darlings!” You say with a wide smile.

Rex walks to the door crouching down at eye level with the boys who are trying to peak over his shoulder. “You have to be gentle.” Rex tells them before taking their hands and leading them to the bed.

“Is that baby sissy?” Jesse climbs up beside you once you are done feeding her and have adjusted your shirt. He looks at the baby’s content face. “I love her.” He lays his head on your arm.

You melt at his declaration. Cody climbs up on your other side. He looks at your belly. “How did she get out of your belly?”

Rex chokes on his water at his son’s innocent curiosity.

“That is another question for another time,” you reassure him.

Cody leans up and he doesn’t seem sure about his new sister when he looks at her face.

“Gentle hands,” Rex reminds him when Cody reaches up to put a hand on his sister's forehead.

“What’s she called?” Cody asks.

You look at Rex. You both had tossed around a few ideas for names but nothing stuck. You look down at your daughter's face, only one name appears in your mind. “Daisy,” you murmur.

“Daisy,” Rex rubs your shoulder. “I think that’s perfect.”

A few days later, you and your family have settled into a new routine. The baby shower that was originally scheduled has now been repurposed into a celebration of the new addition to your family. Soft music plays from the radio. The smell of food cooking on the fire wafts through the open window.

You join Rex on the stone stoop that overlooks your backyard. Rex wraps his arm around your shoulder tucking you into his side. The two of you gaze upon your little slice of paradise. Jesse and Shaeeah are wrestling with Gregor on the grass. All three of their infectious giggles punctuate the air. Cody sits on Wolffe’s lap asking him an endless stream of questions from “why do you look like Buir” and “what happened to your eye”. Wolffe patiently provides explanations that are age appropriate while Cody looks at him with wide eyed fascination. Suu sits with Jek at the picnic table laughing and talking amongst themselves while Cut continues cooking the meat that he and Rex caught.

“I love you,” Rex says softly, pulling you out of your observations. He places a kiss on your temple sighing in contented bliss.

“I love you too,” You tilt your head up to look at him. “Forever and for Always.”

————————————————————————

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