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a-small-writer-in-a-big-world · 5 months

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Summertime Sadness

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x f!reader

Warnings: Smut MDNI (18+), riding, love making? angst, love confession

Words: 5.6k

Synopsis: Simon has to leave again...

You are currently reading chapter 10 of The Roommate Series

You woke up to the sound of talking.

You thought nothing of it for a moment, your mind too tired as you attempted to go back to sleep for a couple more minutes. You stayed up late last night talking with Simon about anything and everything, the conversation not really ending until you couldn't keep your eyes open anymore.

It was the most he had ever spoken to you about himself since you’ve known him. Of course, throughout the years he would tell you about where he grew up and small things about his life before he met you, but this had been entirely different. You learned much more about his family and his life than you ever would’ve thought to know from someone as private as him.

You got as close to being inside of his mind as you could because he willingly let you in.

Simon Riley broke down his walls for you.

It warmed your heart but twisted it all the same. The things you learned connected a few of the dots on why he was the man you had fallen in love with and you would never change that, but that didn’t mean it hurt to think about what he went through.

His father, the torture…

You were cuddled together in his bed, your entire body laying on top of him while he wrapped his arms around you tightly. You had lightly dragged your fingers through his hair, caressing the scars on his face while the two of you continued to talk.

“Why do you stay if it hurt you so bad?” You had asked him while listening to his heartbeat.

“Someone has to make them scared of the dark.” He had held you close to him and ghosted his lips across your hairline. “Want to keep you safe too.”

You learned very little else about his job, except that ‘them’ were terrorists, and suddenly his paranoia made sense. Everything about him surrounding his job made sense but that didn’t make you feel any better about the thought of him leaving again.

In fact, it only made you more anxious.

He had already been captured once, had more scars from injuries and wounds from his work and had crawled back to you nearly bleeding out to death. It was clear his job was dangerous, just like he said, but it only set in now that anytime he left you alone it might be the last time you’ll ever see him.

That didn’t sit well with you, but instead of expressing that to him last night you kept it in.

You crack your eyes open and peered at the empty spot on the bed behind you, slight disappointment filling your stomach.

Simon had woken up before you again but unfortunately didn’t wake you up with him this time. He probably didn’t want to wake you up, valuing your sleep more than you do, especially since you didn’t mind the morning sex with him, especially because it was him.

It took you a moment to realize that the talking inside the apartment wasn’t from the TV, considering that Simon rarely ever turned it up higher than a single digit, but from Simon and someone else. Their voices were hushed but the thin walls made it so you could almost make out what they were saying.

You slipped out of bed and slowly made your way out into the kitchen, curious about who Simon had invited inside the apartment.

Your curiosity disappeared when you saw Price sitting at the table with a cup of coffee in his hand.

The conversation died as soon as you walked in. You felt like a deer in headlights as the two men stared at you as if you were an unexpected guest.

“Good morning.” Price greeted with a soft smile that made your chest tighten.

“Morning, love.” Simon mumbled to you as he came up to you with a plate of breakfast.

“Morning…”

You stared at him with uncertainty and a heavyweight settled on your shoulders. He gave you a knowing look, his dark eyes full of guilt as he handed you the plate and gave you a gentle squeeze on your waist.

You gave him the best smile you could as you pushed the negative feelings down and if it weren’t for the fact that Price was in the room, you would’ve given him a kiss.

Simon moved away from you and went back to the stove where he began to place the dirty dishes in the sink.

You sat across from Price and continued to smile. You didn’t hate him, even when you had only met him once, but you couldn’t help but feel some dread knowing that he was here to bring bad news.

“Sleep well?” He asked and you gave him a polite smile.

“I did.” You glanced at Simon and though you tried your hardest to keep your stomach from churning, you found that you weren’t at all hungry.

“I’m sorry about coming by unexpectedly again, I promise I’ll be better about it next time.”

You shook your head and gave him a small laugh. You assumed he was trying to soften the blow by trying to make conversation but you would much rather him get to the point so you could worry about what to do in the aftermath.

What were you going to do while he was gone? How much longer will he be gone for this time? He had come back unexpectedly, in the middle of whatever it is that he does, that’s what was told to you, so you had no clue. Would you be back in school by the time he got back? Would the next semester end before he got back?

“I came by to check on Simon-”

“I’m assuming to see if he can go back, right?” You looked at him and his face fell slightly. “It’s alright, you don’t have to sugarcoat it.”

Price scoffed and he looked slightly amused, though you could see the cold seriousness hidden within his eyes. You were probably doing him a favor for cutting the conversation short, making it easier for him to break the news without having to deal with the hysterics slowly building up inside you.

Simon stopped cleaning the dishes and frowned, his eyes burning into you but you refused to look at him.

“It shouldn’t be for too long, just tying up loose ends.” He explained and you nodded, unsure of how true that statement was.

“You’ll keep him from getting stabbed again, I hope?” You teased in an attempt to lighten the mood.

Price flashed a quick smile while Simon huffed.

“I can watch my own back.” He grumbled and Price raised a skeptical eyebrow.

“Don’t make me embarrass you in front of her.” Price threatened and if it were any other time you would’ve laughed, maybe played into it as well but you didn’t have the energy for it.

“Please?”

Price looked back at you, his face stern now, and he nodded. He didn’t have to say anything because you could see it in his eyes that he meant it and it should’ve made you feel better but all you could think was that you couldn’t go through what you did again.

“Thank you.” You breathed out.

“Of course.” He said solemnly and the kitchen became quiet.

Price didn’t linger. He took another sip of his coffee from the mug he had before he stood up and handed it to Simon with a pat on his shoulder.

You went to stand up as well so you could see him out but Simon stopped you with a gentle hand on your shoulder.

“Eat. I’ll be back.” He assured you and you nodded.

You gave a polite smile to Price that he returned before the two of them disappeared, their voices hushed once more. You heard the front door open and suddenly the emotions began to bear their weight down on you.

The air was thick as you stared down at your plate, your stomach churning with so much anxiety that you felt so much nauseous you were sure that you were about to throw up. You swallowed hard and took a deep breath, hiding your face behind your shaky hands as you tried to gain control of your body.

Simon was leaving you again. He was going to put himself in harm's way and he might die, you might never see him again, he might get captured again.

Your throat tightened and you struggled to breathe. You had to have faith in him but you couldn’t help but think of the what ifs and the worst case scenarios, especially when every single one of them ended in death.

You don’t know what you’d do without him. You’re not sure if you could live with him being truly gone…

You heard his footsteps approaching and quickly tried to regain composure. At least you knew ahead of time, at least you had more time to prepare yourself for when he left and you weren’t going to waste what little time there was ruining it with your anxieties.

Before he came back in the kitchen you put on a face and pretended to be fine while you picked around your plate.

Simon said your name as soon as he walked through the door, his voice soft and nearly remorseful before you looked at him with a fake smile. His eyebrows knitted together and his eyes hardened when you walked over to him.

“I was thinking we should invite him over when it’s not work related.” You told him before you pulled him into a hug. “And John and Kyle.”

“If that’s what you want, we can find the time.” He mumbled and hesitantly wrapped his arms around you.

You almost wanted to melt into his touch, to have him hold you and let you cry how unfair it was to make him go back after being injured, but you stopped yourself. You knew what it would do to him, the guilt that he would feel for just doing his job, so you pulled away from him.

You stared at him, taking in everything about his features that you could in case you wouldn’t be able to remember them when he was gone. You had mapped out the scars every night, the way the bridge of his nose was crooked and the way his eyes drooped tiredly. You counted the small freckles and traced the wrinkles, finding your heart warmed when you noticed the crows feet on the corners of his eyes.

You lifted a hand and traced your thumb over the scar close to his eye causing him to lean into your touch with a soft, saddened expression.

“When?” You could barely ask the question above a mumble but you kept your face as cheery as you could.

“Tonight.” He told you as he caressed your cheek with calloused fingers. “I’ll leave after you fall asleep.”

You nodded slowly as your heart sank. You only had the rest of the day to spend with him and it felt like you had wasted so much time already. It wasn’t like you could’ve known but it felt like you should’ve, so now you had it in your mind that you had to fix the mistake.

You wanted to spend as much time with him today as possible and to make his last night here worth it.

“I-”

“How about we have an inside date later?” You offered, already coming up with a plan. “Dinner and a movie, the classic.”

Simon’s face fell and he stared at you with that same guilty look he had earlier. He continued to hold you close to him as if you’d move away while he stared deep into your eyes as if he could read your mind with just a look. He had a frown on his face as he rubbed his thumbs into your hips in an attempt to calm you both, but your mind had already set itself on ignoring your feelings and fixing the problem.

You ran your hands down his arms and gave him a reassuring squeeze, in hopes that maybe it would be enough to distract him to forget about looking more into it.

“What do you say? I think we have enough food to make something,” you offered again and gave him a smile in hopes it would win him over.

He was quiet for a moment. He was in deep thought as the frown on his face didn’t go away. A quiet, but long sigh left his chest before he placed a chaste kiss on your forehead and he gave you a firm squeeze.

“As long as I get to help you cook.” He said and you gave him a look that made the corner of his lips twitch.

“You never let me spoil you.” You grumbled and he rubbed his thumb into your hip.

“Don’t need it.”

You couldn’t help but frown at that. You knew that he wasn’t joking, it was hard enough to get him to accept your help most of the time so you knew that he truly thought he didn’t need you to spoil or take care of him. It made your chest tighten and your heart twist in ways that hurt when he spoke of himself that way now.

He had told you it had been years ago, way before he had posted an ad for a roommate. He had told you he was better, that what you saw on the days where he rarely left his room or when he was more quiet, more angry, those were remnants of time much darker than now, but that didn’t change anything.

You still wondered if he knew the extent you would go to alleviate that pain. How much you were willing to take care of him as much as he was willing to take care of you.

You hoped he would know tonight. You wanted to make his last night here for the next few months the best it could be and if that meant stubbornly forcing him to let you take care of him you didn’t care.

“Alright?” Simon squeezed your hip and you placed a kiss on his cheek. “You should eat.”

“I need to get ready for the day, but thank you.”

His eyebrows knitted together and somehow you managed to slip out of his hold before he could stop you. He didn’t say anything but watched you make your way to your room with your thoughts already taking over most of your senses.

The rest of the day went by in a blur.

You spent every moment with him that you could and luckily he didn’t seem to mind. It was one of those days where neither of you left the apartment for any reason even if you thought of something that needed to be done.

Simon piddled around the apartment doing the chores that needed to be done for the week. He refused to leave them for you to do, once again using the excuse that since you were there more often than he was he might as well make it so you didn’t have to do anything for the first week he was gone.

You didn’t want to admit to him that he had saved you from living in a squalor for the next couple of days.

It had become harder each time he left to make yourself do the things that needed to be done the first couple of days he was gone. The apartment would usually be a wreck for a couple of days while you struggled to get over the heartache you felt from him leaving.

You knew tomorrow would be rough. You were sure you were going to be in tears the entire day, especially since you were struggling to keep your emotions in now as the two of you finished dinner.

You were quiet all evening. The closer the day went to night, the more anxious you became and the more you began to overthink everything about him leaving.

This was the first time you had time to prepare for it and yet you felt completely lost. Even when you knew how to handle him disappearing, right now it felt like everything was falling apart as you waited for the time when he was gone. Somehow it was worse knowing he was leaving this time, knowing that maybe he wouldn’t make it back.

Simon said your name and you turned to him.

“Hm?”

His eyebrows were knitted together and it was hard to tell whether or not he was upset at you or upset about something else as he gently took the dirty dishes that you were about to clean from your hands.

“I said I could do them.” He told you and you chewed on your inner lip.

“Oh,” you didn’t protest as he took them to the sink. “Do you want me to help?”

Simon shook his head and you frowned. You hesitated to leave and he noticed the look on your face. He wrapped an arm around your waist and gave you a firm squeeze in hopes that maybe it would help you.

“I’ll meet you in there.” He gave you a soft pat on your lower back before he went back to washing the dishes.

You sat on the couch in the living room and didn’t make a move to turn on the TV to find a movie. Instead you began to stare off into space again, your thoughts taking over as you watched the black screen with indifference. His departure was all you could think about, it was unfortunately the only thing that mattered to you right now.

You tensed up and took a shaky breath. You could feel yourself barreling towards an explosion of emotions that you had pushed down since this morning. You didn’t want to cause a scene or to make the last few hours of Simon’s time home until he would come back, whenever that would be, dealing with the fact that even after so many years you still couldn’t handle him being gone.

Your vision blurred and you placed your hands over your eyes, wiping away any tears.

“Love.”

You jumped at the sound of Simon’s voice and you very quickly tried to pull yourself together. You gave him a weak smile, one that didn’t convince him as he sat down next to you with a heavy sigh.

You saw the concern in his eyes and you immediately set on getting his attention away from you.

“I’m okay.”

“Don’t lie.”

“I’m not lying.”

Simon said your name again, a little more stern than before and suddenly shame settled in your stomach. You turned your body away from him, keeping your eyes on the floor as you did while your stomach twisted up in knots.

You didn't want him to know how upset you were and yet being found out, him knowing that you were keeping it from him made you feel stupid. You could’ve done better at hiding it, you were better at hiding it, at least you thought you were but this time it was hard.

Hard because you opened your heart to the feelings you had once pushed away. Hard because he had reciprocated them tenfold, like it was what he was made to do, to love you like you were the moon, the sun and everything else in the universe.

You didn’t want this to be the last time you could ever return that.

Simon grabbed your wrist and tried to get you to look at him. When you didn’t, he placed a careful kiss on your pulse and gently tugged you close to him.

You moved closer to him, leaning some of your weight against him but still kept your eyes on the floor.

“Look at me.” He placed a gentle hand on your cheek and turned your head towards him.

You had no choice but to meet your eyes with his. You shrunk under his serious gaze unsure if he was truly upset at you or if he was upset about the current circumstances that had come about because of the way he had returned.

He stroked his thumb across your cheek, his dark eyes boring into yours with an intensity that made heat pool at your stomach while also making you feel incredibly vulnerable , like he could see into your mind and into your soul, to the very inner workings of who you were.

He stayed quiet for a long moment, drinking you in and taking in every detail on your face, while you did the same, before he spoke.

“This is how it’s going to be.” His voice was low and calm as he spoke, his thumb still caressing your skin. “If you can’t live with it, you have to tell me now.”

You could live with it, you already have.

It had crossed your mind a few times that maybe it was too much waiting for him to come home, that maybe the constant loneliness that came with his absence would hurt too much to the point that you weren’t sure if you could wait for him to return however many months it took for him to get the job done. And with the added reality that he might not come home after all of that, you wondered if you could handle it.

But when he did come home, when he finally pulled you into his embrace and let you feed him and showed you that he was back it made the wait worth it.

Simon made everything worth it.

“I can.” You were just as serious as him as you placed a hand overtop of his. “But that doesn’t mean it’s not hard to watch you go.”

“Coulda said that earlier.” His shoulders relaxed slightly and he let out a short breath.

“I didn’t want to make you feel guilty.”

“I’m always going to feel guilty, especially if you keep it from me.”

You nodded and your eyes dropped. You scooted onto his lap where he wrapped his arms around you and situated the both of you in a more comfortable position. You laid your head against his chest while he rested his chin on the top of your head, his thumb rubbing soft circles into your hips.

You let out a shaky sigh.

“I’m sorry.” You whispered and he shook his head.

“...Thank you for staying.” He whispered back and you nodded.

You both said nothing for a long while. You relaxed against him and for a moment you felt like you could fall asleep here, his arms were safe and loving to the point that after all of the emotional turmoil he was putting you to sleep.

You would’ve if it didn’t mean that he would disappear.

Instead, you took a deep breath and focused on the present.

“Do you hate leaving?” You wondered out loud, the questions finally pouring out after being kept in for so long.

“Every time.” He said without missing a beat.

You hummed and listened to his steady heartbeat. Relief washed over you, though you’re not entirely sure why. It was easy to tell he liked being back home, that he enjoyed your presence, but being told that was something entirely different.

It felt good to know that he hated leaving just as much you hated watching him go.

For a moment you wondered if you shouldn’t ask anything else but you figured it was best to get it out of the way now rather than wait until years down the line.

“Would you ever want to quit?”

“Love…”

“I’m not trying to convince you, I just want to know.”

Simon was quiet for a long time. He was deep in thought yet he never stopped his ministrations as he kept a firm hold on you. He took a deep breath and squeezed you gently.

“Hard to say. Probably not.”

You’re not sure what you expected. Maybe you wanted him to completely change his mind and tell you that soon he would quit his job to get something less dangerous that would keep him home so you didn’t have to worry about him dying. That he finally realized he didn’t have to stay, he didn’t have to fight, but that was selfish of you.

From what he had told you, from what you could infer, his job had been the only thing that kept him together until he could on his own. It was stable enough for him, enough to give him a purpose, so you couldn’t take that away from him.

“I’ll always come back to you.” He reassured you as if he could read your mind.

“What if you dont?” You could barely say it.

It was a possibility. There were only so many times he could run back to you on death's door, so many times he gets lucky and avoids capture or death before he made one mistake. One mistake and he’d be gone from you forever, and you’d be left alone to pick up the pieces he’d leave behind.

You trusted him, you were sure he was good at his job, but people died in the force all the time.

“Then I hope you’ll forgive me.” He said softly, almost as if there would be a possibility that you wouldn’t.

Your throat tightened and tears threatened to form. You clenched your jaw and in that moment you knew that you had to tell him just in case this would be the only time you could.

Before you could even think, you shot up and looked him in the eyes.

“I love you.”

Simon’s eyes widened and his body stiffened underneath you. His hands tightened their grip on your hips and he stared at you with an unreadable expression on his face while his eyes bounced around your face. He barely let you move on his lap as he stared at you like you had grown another head or that you had said something outrageous.

It sent your stomach into knots and you chewed on your lip. You didn’t regret saying it but maybe it was too early, maybe for him it was too much especially since he was leaving in a couple hours. It took him three years to tell you just a fraction about his past, maybe it was too intimate-

“Say it again.” He practically demanded.

You blinked but he pulled you closer to him. You placed your hands on chest and felt his racing heartbeat as he eyes softened, peering deep into you as he kept you firmly against him.

“I love you.” You repeated, softer this time and he swallowed hard.

A light blush spread across his cheeks and the tips of his ears. Instead of averting his gaze however, he leaned forward and ghosted his lips across yours. It was soft and almost hesitant before you reciprocated it.

The kiss was slow, blooming into something more as his hands began to roam across your body as if he were touching marble. He sighed heavily, his hand settled as the base of your neck to deepen the kiss while you straddled his lap.

You gasped into his mouth when you felt his hard cock rub against your heat and pushed your hips further down. You swallowed the grunt that escaped his lips and clutched his shirt tighter as he broke the kiss.

Simon rested his forehead against yours as the two of you caught your breath. He massaged his fingertips into your neck, causing your eyes to flutter shut while he pressed a few quick kisses against your skin.

“Again.” He whispered against your lips desperately as if the words were the sweetest thing he had ever tasted.

“I love you.” You whispered back and he shuddered.

He locked you lips in another kiss that was more heated than the last but just as slow. He kept you against him before he grabbed the hem of your shirt and began to take it off.

You pulled away from him, light headed as you tossed your shirt on the floor somewhere. You shivered when his hands touched your bare skin, the heat from his palms raising goosebumps as he unclasped your bra and tossed it away as well.

Simon didn’t hesitate to kiss your breasts, leaving hot kisses against the plump flesh before he took a nipple into his mouth. He swirled his tongue, sucking and nipping at the sensitive flesh only because you let out short whines that made his cock impossibly harder.

Your hands grasped his hair and you tugged on the strands, your hips grinding your clothed cunt against him for any kind of friction. Your panties were wet as he moved to your other nipple while his hands traveled to your ass.

He moved your hips for you and the more he touched you, the more he kissed your skin and revered you, the more you yearned for him.

You needed him inside you, in your heart and in your soul. You needed him to stay even though you knew he wouldn’t and you needed him to show you how much he loved you back despite that. You needed him fully, with every part of him that he tried to hide from you.

“Need you.” You panted as you tugged on his shirt with pleading eyes. “Please, I need to feel you.”

Simon didn’t hesitate to throw off his shirt, a heavy sigh falling from his mouth when your hands pressed against his skin. He helped you throw off your shorts and panties, the rest of his clothes following, leaving the two of you laying naked against each other.

It was all the two of you needed for a moment. You would’ve been content laying against him like this any other day, just feeling him and holding onto him, but you need more.

His cock hard and red, beads of precum on the tip, rested in between your legs on your soaking cunt. He bucked his hips up a few times, dragging it across your slit where the tip eventually caught onto your entrance and you both gasped.

“Simon…”

“Fucking hell, love.”

You raised your hips and slowly began to sink down on him.

You whimpered, still not used to the size of him, though you were sure you never would be, and dug your fingernails into his skin. You already felt dizzy and you barely had the tip inside of you, your walls clenching around him like he would disappear.

Simon pressed his lips to your pulse and kissed it gently. He moved his lips across your neck, sucking marks into your skin as he rubbed his hands soothingly into your body.

“Breath, love.” He kissed underneath your jaw and you moaned when you sank further down on his cock. “That’s it.”

He continued to whisper sweet encouragements in your ears until you were fully seated on him, a tight moan escaping his mouth. Both of you were out of breath, pressed together and panting as the head rested against your cervix.

You looked deep with his eyes and raised your hips, beginning to bounce on his cock as soft whines escaped you. You didn’t break eye contact with him as you did, heat coursing through your body and sending electric shocks through your nerves as you rode him.

He thrust up into you slowly but deep. Each thrust from his hips matched the rhythm you set as the air was knocked out of your lungs and your head suddenly became light. You were so full of him, stretched out by his massive cock that nearly all coherent thought had been lost to you, the only thing now were the soft moans and whines that escaped your throat.

He stared up at you with heady lovesick eyes. He let out soft grunts and groans as you rode him with the love you proclaimed that struck him in his cold heart, that gently took away the walls and the constant need for survival, leaving him feeling incredibly different.

All that was left was Simon Riley, vulnerable and in love with you.

His cock dragged in and out of you, hitting the spot that had your legs quivering and you squirming on top of him. Your stomach pulled and you curled your toes, the all too familiar sensation building up inside as he continued to thrust into you.

You were close and he could feel it. You gasped when he sped up his thrusts just enough to make you see stars while you wrapped your arms around his neck. Your eyes fluttered shut and for a moment you let yourself feel the sensation of your bodies together.

Simon gently cupped your face and you forced your eyes open to look at him. He stared at you with heavy eyelids and caressed his thumb across your cheek. He leaned forward and pressed chaste kisses against your lips while his other hands fumbled with the dog tags around his neck.

You barely noticed him slip it around your neck until the heated metal bounced against your chest.

You came immediately, your cunt fluttering around his thick length as your vision went out. You wrapped your arms around his neck, falling limp against him as he held your waist while he fucked you through your orgasm.

His thrusts became sloppy and it only took a few more deep ones before you felt him release hot ropes of cum inside you. He hugged you close, both of you waiting to come down from the high while he left soft kisses on your shoulder.

The two of you stay like that for a while, unable to separate from each other and even finding yourselves riling each other up again when you just had to utter those three words again.

“I love you.”

Link to part 11

A/N: I needed this tbh. Should've been doing work but I got stressed. Lowkey smut, I tried but lost some steam

The tag list is closed!! I am so happy that so many of you want to be tagged for this story but I will not be accepting anymore requests to tag people in this series since this list has gotten long and it's hard to keep track of how many I have to add! Sorry for the inconvenience!

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@kat-nee @alexwashere82 @suicidal-marshmellow @shuttlelauncher81 @poohkie90 @reiya-djarin @k4marina @mionacaped @igotmajordaddyissues @xxghostyx @pasta-m1lk @imstargazing @jacksonpleasestopkillingme @kgive @konig-is-bbygrl @lialacleaf @frazie99 @gremlin-ghuleh @spencerreidisbae123 @writingmysanity @lillianastuff @alastorhazbin @reid490 @lockleywife @sheepselecric @dead-noodles @marshmallowtraver @sinclairbrosbathmat @sofasoap @crazyfandomist @iwmtfm @oiiviagrande @genesis1363 @revyjerry @guttabutta00 @greenkiki @d4z01 @quietlyignoringyou @mysticalgalaxysalad @almightywdm @maviee @lycheedr3ams @multitargaryen @fruitymoonbeams-blog @lilpothoscuttings @eatingtheworldsoffanfiction @adriennepoison

#the roommate series #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #ghost x reader #ghost x you #simon ghost riley #ghost mw2 #ghost mw3 #call of duty #mw2 ghost

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adventuringblind · 7 months

Text

Mentor Them

Lando Norris x Reader X Carlos Sainz

Genre: Smut

summary: Carlos teaches his teammate some good bedroom skills. feelings come to light in the process.

Warnings: Smut, PinV, porn with plot, oral (m and f receiving), denial, overtimulation, Dom Carlos, Sub reader and Lando, bandage

Notes: You know who you are. You did this to me. I will not be speaking on the subject.

Masterlist

Carlos has taken a liking to his younger teammate. He’s also taken an interest in said teammates relationship.

Lando, in the year and a half Carlos has known him, has kept the same girlfriend. But the thing that fascinates him is how oddly similar they are. The only difference is their energy. Lando is a bit more bouncy and chaotic, whereas she is soft-spoken and shy.

Carlos knows it’s weird. But he’s also not oblivious and incredibly intuitive. He notices the flustered laughs and blushes Lando gets when he’s around. He sees how the female looks at him until he catches her.

He knows both well. Wherever one is you can find the other not to far behind. It’s like they are each others safety blanket.

Is it bad he wants to absolutely ruin both of them? He tries not to think about it to much. They just look so soft together that he can’t help himself.

It’s after a race one afternoon that Carlos realizes he may have his fantasy fulfilled after all.

Lando came knocking on the door of his room in the McLaren motorhome. He was already blushing when Carlos let him inside. For the first time in a long time, there is no female in sight and Carlos thinks something bad may have happened.

“I need to ask you something and you’re not aloud to laugh at me.” The Brit says in an arguably strict tone.

“Anything. I won’t laugh.”

“I need help with, uh, bedroom stuff.” He looks down in shame ad Carlos is quick to stand up and lift Lando’s gaze to meet his.

“There is no shame is asking about that.”

Lando looks like he might go into shock but he manages a simple “Okay.”

Carlos goes over everything him and Lando had talked about on his way to their room. The two are trying to experiment but have no idea where to start.

Is he taking advantage of the situation? Probably. But for right now he’s just going to let himself enjoy it. Teach them a few things. Maybe even make a mess of them both in the process.

The one thing he’s mildly concerned about is the female. lando had made it clear that he doesn’t care what happens, but she has a tendency to not speak up if she doesn’t like things because she’s afraid of disappointing. It doesn’t help that she is shy and even struggles talking to Carlos despite having known him for awhile now.

Lando also mentioned her ability to not make any sounds during sex like her life depends on it. Her entire body could be spasming and she could still be silent. Another habit he’s hoping to break tonight.

He takes a deep breath and knocks on the door.

She has no idea what to expect. Lando and her had been thinking about this for some time now, inviting Carlos to join them. She just wasn’t sure what the whole ‘experimenting’ excuse is about. Her and Lando have done plenty of that!

Dynamics are a little funky a times because they’ve both had to learn to be switch’s. They fumbled for a bit, but she thought they’d done plenty of that and that their sexual health is fantastic.

Then he explained that he kind of fibbed because this counts as experimenting, technically speaking. He also said that Carlos didn’t hesitate to say yes and got excited at the proposal. It makes her wonder if Carlos has also thought about them in this way.

Lando sits next to her on the bed. His arms wrapped around her and his head in the crook of her neck. “remember Carlos doesn’t know how to read you like I do. You’ll have to communicate verbally with him.” She just hums. She doesn’t know why she does it, her voice just leaves during sex and it’s so hard for her to speak. “For me, please?”

“I will, for you.”

They don’t get to continue their conversation as they hear a knock at the door. Lando bounds to go and greet their guest and she curls herself into the corner of the bed. Just her and her breaths for a minute.

The curious sound of something hitting the wall fills her ears. Then follows the wet sound of sloppy kisses and a few moans. Finally they come into view and she can see Carlos smothering Lando in a full mouth kiss. She even thinks she can see the swipe of their tongues every now and then.

When Carlos pulls away, he looks between them with hunger. “Why do I feel like you two actually know exactly what you’re doing?”

“Cause I sorta kinda fibbed.”

“I can tell by the way you let me shove my tongue down your throat with ease.”

Lando blushes at the statement. ‘Oops.”

Carlos sits on the end of the bed and swings himself around to face the female. He motions for Lando to join and a small smirk tugs at his lips when he obeys.

“Complete transparency: I have thought about this for awhile now.”

She exchanges a look with the Brit. Turns out he has been thinking about them as well. “So have we.”

“So the experimenting?”

“Technically this is experimenting.”

Carlos just shakes his head. “You could’ve just asked and I would’ve said yes.”

The girl uncurls from herself just a bit. “It’s hard to do when you have a crush on the person you’re asking.” The smile on Carlos’ face is unreal. He looks ecstatic and it makes her feel fuzzy on the inside. “We were going to ask if you wanted to try things with us. Like, in a romantic sense.”

Her and Lando look at him expectantly. The Spaniards smile seems to grow even more. “Yeah, I think I would like to try that. But I have one condition.”

“And what would that be?” Lando’s tone is a bit snarky but she knows what he’s doing. He has a tendency to rile people up quickly. Namely her. In a sexual way.

“I want to take you both apart tonight.”

The stunned silence that falls between them is ridiculous. the fact that she’s not sure what he means by that and the idea of watching that happened seems very appealing. She does not register, however, that Carlos said both of them. She’d already settled for mostly watching the two of them go at it. Not to much involvement on her end.

There are no words exchanged. Just Lando staring at the Spaniard as if waiting for his doom. Not a bad way to go out really.

And just as suspected, when there is even an inkling of confirmation, Carlos is once again choking his tongue down Lando’s throat. The two of them clamber back onto the bed with nothing but clumsy chaos.

The female curls into herself further. She watches in awe. The same feeling of losing her voice during intimate moments comes crashing over her, and she has no clue what she should do.

If she's honest with herself, she would be perfectly content just watching. She lets her mind wander to the future and what their life might look like together. If people found out what they might say.

She doesn't realize she's been spacing out until Lando is calling her name. She must have been gone a while because he and Carlos are both missing their shirts.

She feels clueless.

Carlos, in all of his beauty, gently grabs under her knees and slides her almost fully underneath him.

The hungry stare makes her squeak. It's nothing like she's ever seen before. Lando is usually needy and whiny, but this is nothing but pure untamed lust.

He hovers over her. Hands moving to pin her wrists to the mattress beneath her. He studies her. His eyes move down her body as if calculating how to best attack.

She's panting heavily. A pause. A calm before the storm.

Then something in him snaps.

His belt is off in seconds. Carlos finds Lando's wrists and uses his belt as some sort of makeshift rope. One that he won't be getting out of on his own. Lando won't be doing much touching if his hands are stuck behind him, and she wonders what Carlos is planning.

Carlos is half straddling her now. The other hand of him towering Lando. His hands gripping messy curls. "You said you can't get her to make noise? If that's the case, I feel that you haven't been doing it right." He grabs Lando's chin and directs his haze at her. "You've had such a beautiful girl, compliant even, and you haven't made her cum so hard she's praying your name?"

Carlos clicks his tongue. He strips Lando of the rest of his clothes. Completely bare. Unless you count the belt, keeping his hands from really doing anything.

"We're using colors for safe words. Are you both familiar?" She shakes her head yes in confirmation, and Lando gives a verbal answer. "I need words, princesa."

How is she ever going to get through tonight if he calls her things like that? She breathes and attempts to make her paralyzed vocal chords work. "Yeah..." it's barely even a whisper, but Carlos looks so pleased with himself.

The Spaniard maneuvers Lando back onto the bed on his knees. He grabs his jaw again and looks so stern that she thinks he might actually be upset. "You are not going to finish until you pull a noise out of her. Do you understand?"

A slurred "Yes sir" stumbles out of the Brits mouth. Then Carlos is back over her body. He tugs at the bottom of her shirt. The outer layers are shed so easily. She's not self-consciousness, even quite confident with how Lando compliments her every opportunity he gets. Yet Carlos' hungry eyes make her want to shield herself.

It's overwhelming, a good overwhelming, but still overwhelming.

"Don't hide away from me now. If you do that, I can't teach Lando how to pleasure such a good girl."

Is it possible for a human to melt? Because she is most definitely melting. Putty to be molded as the Spaniard pleases.

He works off her bra with skilled fingers. She goes again to try and close up but Carlos is quick to catch her and pin her hands.

He kisses her neck, her lips, her shoulders, the center of her chest. It's such a contrast to the roughness she saw with Lando. He's being slow and taking his time with her. Lando looks like he is enjoying being punished to an extent (he's always been a bit of a brat for her).

She sucks in a breath when Carlos' tongue and teeth find her nipples. He goes back and forth between both of them. Her breathing is heavier than it was before. More labored from the stimulation.

Still no noise.

He captures her lips again and then trails his lips all the way to the last piece of clothing she has on. Her body shivers in anticapation. He tugs at the elastic and makes eye contact with her. "Can I take these off?"

The nodding her head in response isn't going to work, and she knows that. She steels herself and forces her voice to work even if it's small. "Please." A blink, and you'll miss it type of whisper, but he hears her.

He drags them off. Hands running across her body in an almost desperate motion. He pries her legs apart easily. You'd think she was weightless. Another confidence booster since she's got a 'not a supermodel' kind of body. In her opinion, at least.

Carlos goes back to kissing her. Now, adding small bites as he goes. He's teasing the area around where she would like him to be. Again, not complaining, simply enjoying what he's giving.

He pulls away, and she huffs. He looks satisfied with it. "Maybe if you begged for it, I would keep going." He smirks. Her eyes widen in the realization that he wants to get her as vocal as possible. Not just for Lando, but for himself also.

Carlos manhandles Lando in between her legs. She can feel his warm breath clinging to her body in all the right places.

"Do you want me to just sit here or...?"

A flash of movement and a small amount of force appear out of thin air. Lando's tongue is everywhere she jeeds it to be. Carlos passes her a curious look. "Is he always like this." She shakes her head yes. If only he knew the half of it.

"Remember amour." He whispers into Lando's ear. "You pull a noise out of her, and you can finish." Then he looks at her. Gentle eyes but stern voice. "And you can finish if you want, but do not make a sound if it isn't real. Let him be desperate and learn from this."

And oh how desperate he would become.

Carlos doesn't make it any easier on him. She knew it was going to be torcher for the Brit when Carlos asked if there was lube in close proximity, and the answer was yes.

Hands are everywhere. Touching, feeling, grabbing, spreading. Her nerves are on fire from all the stimulation. Lando whining into her core and Carlos continually shoving the Brit further into her is making her feel all sorts of ways.

Her body spasms without warning. The deep sated pleasure hit her in a wave.

Silence. A little labored breathing. But still no noises pulled from her.

Carlos halts all movment. Lando cries from having no physical contact. Limbs flail like a child whose mother said no to ice cream.

"I guess we'll have to try something different, huh Landito." How Carlos can move people around so effortlessly is beyond her. The positions are reversed now. Though she is sitting more comfortably since she has her hands.

Carlos takes the courtesy of letting his hands free. The Brit immediately runs his hands all over both of them.

Carlos pulls her body into his back. Fingers caress her sides, then grabs her hair. He pulls hard enough so that she can look at him, albeit upside down in a way.

He places a chaste kiss to her nose, causing her to smile a bit. "I want to hear the words. Tell me you want me to fuck you. Tell me you want to be a good girl for me."

It comes so naturally this time. Like begging for him is her first language. It's the only thing she knows. It falls from her lips in the form of a prayer, and Carlos looks satisfied with her for it.

Something happens when he slams into her without warning. Her hands grip onto Lando's thighs, and her mouth falls open.

Something between a shreik and a moan leaves her, and it's shocking. Carlos doesn't stop, but he's reveling in it. "See princesa, you sound so fucking beautiful. Moan for me more. Whine for me with Lando in your throat."

And so she did. Like she found her voice despite it never really being gone. Carlos had unlocked something in her mind that let her get past the mental block.

Lando looks like he might cum just to the sound of her. It's his favorite song on repeat, and every noise makes his eyes roll back further.

Praise. Both are praising her. It only makes her do it more. Her mind is so far gone that it's possible she'll never recover. Lando has gotten her here before, but never this far.

They are both gone. Deep into the glassy eyes and fuzzy headspaces that she doesn't care what happens next.

She's choking off Lando's length, but she can't be bothered to care. His hands fist her hair as he slams his hips into her face. His breathing is labored and mouth open. His words are swimming in her ears as are Carlos'.

She fell over a while ago. She's been over the edge for an insane amount of time. Lando spilling down into her throat only pulls her deeper into it.

Carlos is getting sloppy with his relentless thrusts. She feels him stutter and pulse onside of her. His angle hitting her where she wants it.

That small voice in the back of her head is glad Carlos was responsible and put on protection. He doesn't pull out until he's done.

They are all sweaty, but it doesn't matter. She finds herself in Lando's lap. He's buried in her. His hands are tracing the sensitive lines he knows so well. She reciprocated the gentle affection.

Carlos has complete control of the situation. He lays wet kisses to every area of skin he can get to. He praises and degrades in all the correct ways. Guides them through every action. Lando pulling ever sound he'd been longing to hear for over a year from the depths of her soul.

It's bliss. They'd been at it so long that she couldn't control her own body anymore. Gone are coherent thoughts.

Carlos stops them. Gently slowing both down with his hands as guides. "You're both such beautiful creatures."

They fall into a heap. Her and Lando can barely move and settle for holding hands and staring. Sleep because the best idea she has ever had. Her eyes droop.

"No sleep yet. Don't want you getting sick or subdropping on me." Carlos chuckles as he presses cold rags to their skin. "I would have you bathe, but I don't think that would I can manage you both in there."

"Thank you, Carlos, really." Mumbles Lando.

"I should be thanking you two. I've wanted this for so long. It's hard to believe it took us this long." Carlos runs a hand through his hair. "Tommorow I'm taking you two out for a real date."

"I think I speak for both of us when I say that we would love that."

"I seconds that." She mumbles before throwing herself over the boys in a head of bodies and comfort.

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aziraphales-library · 5 months

Note

I remember a fair few fics where the premise is vaguely “Aziraphale does a blessing/miracle/other religious thing on Crowley and it’s strange/overwhelming/etc for all involved”. I just can’t… find any of them. I remember them being various ratings, pure fluff to pure smut

Your best bet is the divinity kink tag on AO3. Here are some to get you going...

The Agony And The Ecstasy by entanglednow (T)

A split second decision by Aziraphale to save them both from discovery leaves Crowley experiencing something he is unprepared for.

your love is sunlight by EveningStarcatcher (M)

“Why wait?” Crowley’s voice was faint, almost a whisper, but lined with the usual forced nonchalance. “What?” Aziraphale froze, brow slightly furrowed. “Just, I don’t have to wait.” Crowley’s cheeks flushed. “Could be all better right now. I mean. I-if you wanted.” “Are you asking me to heal you?” Aziraphale’s eyes flashed with something… divine.

A Negative Integer by racketghost (E)

“I’m the holy object,” Aziraphale says, and is also looking frantically around the room, the bookshop, the skylight filtering in the first glimpses of afternoon sun and holding dust particles suspended in their beams, dreamy and soft. “I can’t touch you.” “Yes you can,” he blurts out, and swallows down the cacophony of what are sure to be any number of embarrassing and hopeful ways in which the angel can touch him, really, whenever.

Bleak Without and Bare Within by Princip1914 (E)

Perhaps Crowley was right, Aziraphale thought. They were both working very hard in sometimes very awful places and for what? It was obvious that they couldn’t give up on temptations and blessings entirely--someone would notice, they had to surely--but combining forces here and there? What had Crowley called it, lending a hand, when necessary? It didn’t sound too bad. It didn’t sound like a good idea either, but Aziraphale supposed that was the whole point. It was a morally neutral proposition, and everything would still get done in the end. “I agree.” Aziraphale said finally. “As long as you accept that we’re going to have to teach one another.” Or, an angel learns to Tempt, a demon learns to Bless and things get a bit out of hand at the beginning of an unusual Arrangement.

Divine Hands by WanderingAlice (T)

After the end of the world didn’t come, Crowley had planned to spend a lot more time with Aziraphale, and Aziraphale didn’t seem opposed to the idea at all. Unfortunately there’s one glaring problem. Crowley has a strong, uncontrollable panic reaction to being touched by something divine. And Aziraphale cannot turn off his own divinity. A Good Omens Holiday Exchange fic written for the prompt: After the Notpocalypse, Crowley and Aziraphale start getting closer...but they find out together that Crowley has deep-seated trust issues triggered by something about Aziraphale that he can't help. They have to overcome it together.

sanctuary by moonyinpisces (T)

“You’re staring.” “Oh dear,” says Aziraphale, completely unapologetic. “How rude of me.” Crowley begins to smile something slow, bright, and lovely, but he schools it with a bite to his lower lip. Aziraphale thinks of the way he looked two millennia ago, pressed up against the wall with Aziraphale's blessing healing his wounds, the only demon to experience divine ecstasy and live to tell the tale. How Aziraphale's hands itch to do it again, and again, and again. Crowley opens his mouth as if to say something, but then stops and spins around instead to go back to stirring the curry. “Shut up,” he says to the stove, flustered.

- Mod D

#good omens #ineffable husbands #divinity kink #adult omens #mod d

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eddiesghxst · 8 months

Text

PRICE OF FAME (PART 3/12)

ALRIGHTY HERE WE GO !!

————

18+ — MINORS DNI

pairing: rockstar!eddie x journalist!reader

summary: eddie and gareth don't get along and eddie thinks you look cute when you're sleeping

contains: enemies to lovers trope, smoking, alcohol use, maybe gareth's a bitch lol, scary feelings, a sprinkle of fluff, and eddie being down bad in every way, shape, and form <3

word count: 5.3k

| previous part | next part |

| series masterlist | -main masterlist- |

Breakfast has been your favorite part of joining Corroded Coffin on tour. Aside from the fluffy, soft, sweet pancakes, grease-dripping bacon, and toe-curling orgasmic coffee, breakfast has always been lighthearted and fun. Richie makes everybody sit at the table together like a family so there can be some sense of normalcy throughout the busy days; it’s nice.

You alternate with your seating, wanting to get to know all of the crew members as best as you can while you have the time, and you’ve had decent conversations amongst some awkward ones. On the first day, you sat next to Mitch, the light coordinator, and listened to his story about how he met his husband. They’re expecting a baby this fall, and you two bounced a few names off each other for him to consider. On the second day, you sat beside Kaylee, the tour stylist, and talked about your college horror stories. On the third day, you sat next to Brandon, a stage manager, and spoke about… well, you don’t really remember because he talked the entire time, and you kind of blanked out. Slowly, you’ve made your way around the table each day, learning little things about the group.

Today, however, there is not the usual lighthearted and familial atmosphere at the table.

You came down to the breakfast hall a bit late from your shower, and the second you stepped into the room, you could sense the tension still hanging from yesterday. You haven’t spoken to or seen Eddie since he confronted Gareth at the studio, and you’re not sure if he’d even want to see you, but you have no choice but to take the only open seat next to him.

You quietly say good morning to everyone, and Richie is the only one who gives you a warm response. “How’d you sleep, birdie?” He questions around a mouthful of eggs. You nod and settle in, “Good, I almost slept through my alarm.” You jokingly admit. Richie chuckles, “1500 thread count sheets will do that to you.” He says, causing the table to erupt in a soft symphony of laughter.

It falls awkwardly silent, and you try your best to avoid glancing at Gareth, but there’s no doubt everybody notices the shiner he’s sporting on his eye. The room is filled with sounds of forks clanking against plates and the quiet mumble of short, faint snippets of conversation until Richie clears his throat, “We’ve got an interview with the press at twelve and rehearsals at three, like always, so do what you need to do before then. We can’t be late for this interview, got it?” He reminds the crew, and everybody’s head nods in understanding, all but one.

“I’m not going.”

All eyes turn to Gareth, a full plate sitting untouched before him as he slumps back in his seat. Beside you, Eddie lights a cigarette, and you opt to busy yourself with taking a bite of your French toast, practically feeling the anger radiating from Eddie as he takes a drag. Richie clears his throat once again, scooting closer to the table and tilting his head with a look of confusion, “Um… why not?” He questions.

Gareth glances at him as best as he can with his black eye, “Because I’ve got an eye the size of a tennis ball on my face, Richie.” Everyone at the table seems to uncomfortably shift now that the elephant in the room has been addressed. Eddie doesn’t waste a second to speak up from beside you, “Nothing you didn’t deserve.” For the first time since yesterday, Eddie looks at Gareth and sees the swollen eye he left from yesterday. Eddie doesn’t show a single hint of regret.

The table returns to quietly eating as Gareth ignores Eddie’s comment, “I’m not going.” He reiterates. Richie sighs and rubs the coarse mustache on his face, “You have to go, Gareth. Just put some shades on.” He suggests, returning to his food as if the conversation finished, but Gareth holds up. “I’m not gonna sit there in shades like a fucking idiot, man.”

“Well, you don’t have a choice, son,” Richie snaps, dropping the fork in his plate to look at Gareth. You wish the floor would open up and swallow you whole, and you’re sure you’re not the only person with that wish when you look at the other crew members at the table. “This band has an album coming soon,” he reminds the group, “We don’t have time for rumors and gossip to start circulating; you need to show up as a unit. This isn’t up for debate.”

The conversation could’ve ended there because, quite frankly, it seemed like Gareth was willing to go with it, but Eddie couldn’t let the moment to say something slip, “Just let him go, Rich.” He shrugs. You glance at Eddie, watching as he taps his cigarette ash into his plate, “It’s not like he brings much to the table anyway.”

Across the table, from the corner of your eye, you see Gareth lean forward to glare at Eddie, “The fuck does that mean?” He snaps.

Eddie looks at Gareth for the second time and shrugs, “Means you’re a shit band member, man. Fuckin’ Mitch has done more for this band than you ever have or could’ve done.” He gestures towards Mitch, ignoring when the man slightly cowers in his seat. Gareth looks at Eddie with a stone-cold glare, saying nothing momentarily and letting the thick blanket of silence curl around everyone's neck. He leans forward and points a finger at Eddie, who’s not even looking at him anymore, “Fuck you. You wonder why Chrissy left you for Jason Carver, it’s because you’re a fucking asshole.”

“Jesus Christ, guys–” Jeff tries to interject, but Gareth continues speaking, “At least Jason acknowledges her. That’s more than you ever did.” He jabs. Eddie chuckles, shaking his head before speaking around a cloud of smoke, “You don’t know shit about me and Chrissy.”

Gareth tauntingly laughs, “Nah, she filled me in quite a fuckin’ bit.”

The invisible ticking time bomb seems to have gone off in Eddie’s mind. He stands up from his chair, a loud screeching noise grating everyone's ears as he flicks his cigarette into his plate, “The fuck did you just say?”

“Hey, hey, hey!” Richie interjects, standing up and raising his hands as a gesture to stop. “Enough. Fucking enough,” he glances between the two heated men in annoyance, “I don’t know what’s gotten into you boys, but you need to figure your shit out on your own time.” He snaps. Your hands rest in your lap, anxiously picking at the seam of your jeans, wanting to shrink into your seat because you can’t help but feel as if this is your fault. It was your journal he read anyway; you play some part in the issue, right?

Richie sits back down with an exhaustive huff, picking up his fork to resume eating, but before he picks up a piece of his food, he gestures at the table, “Either sit down and finish your goddamn meal, or fuck off somewhere. Both of you.”

Eddie stands for a moment before deciding to leave without another word.

By the time the press interview rolls around, you’re more anxious than you thought you’d be. Between the time frame of breakfast and now, you had more than enough time to ponder over the messy situation you’ve accidentally created between Gareth and Eddie.

Truthfully, you had no idea that the Chrissy Gareth had mentioned during your conversation was Eddie’s ex-girlfriend Chrissy; hell, you didn’t even know Eddie had an ex-girlfriend named Chrissy until yesterday!

On one of your few sit-downs with Gareth, you ended up discussing his love life, and you took the leap of faith to ask him if he’d ever been in love.

“…There was one girl. Her name was Chrissy; we went to high school together.”

“You dated?” “No,” Gareth shakes his head, “No, we never dated. But I always had this weird connection with her… like we understood each other in a deeper way.”

You smile in awe of the sweetness behind his words, jotting down little notes in your journal as he speaks. “I always admired her to an extent, but she, uh,” he clears his throat and scratches at his jaw, “she was in another relationship for most of the time I knew her.”

Gareth silently watches as you continue to write. You look up at him when you realize he’s been silent for a while, and you open your mouth to ask what is wrong, but he speaks before you, “Is this um,” he gestures towards your journal, “this bit isn’t going in the final publish, right?” He asks. You tilt your head, a few questions running through your mind, but you brush them off, “Um… well, I suppose I can leave some of it out, yes.”

Gareth nods, shifting in his chair and clearing his throat. “Okay, good. Um… well, anyways,” he begins, “Me and Chrissy didn’t hook up until I went back to Hawkins during our break off from last year's tour.”

Ultimately, Gareth had explained that Chrissy had recently left a three-year relationship when they’d hooked up. He explained that they crossed paths at a bar, and things took off from there, but he cut it off with her the following morning. He never told you why he cut it off, but you now understand the guilt of betraying his best friend had forced him to do so.

You had no idea that the entire conversation was pertaining to Eddie’s ex; if you had known, you would’ve never written it down. You wouldn’t have even finished the conversation if Gareth had told the whole truth because, quite honestly, you would rather not be in the mix of this disaster.

You’re disappointed. Upset that Gareth practically used you to get the guilt off his chest. And the truth is, that conversation did little to nothing for Gareth in the long run; he still felt guilty for never telling Eddie, and it’s only gotten worse with the added tension between them now that the secret is out.

Eddie was cold toward you before, but now he’s thicker than the ice in Antarctica. He’s avoiding you at all costs— and maybe he’s just avoiding everybody. Still, you can’t help but take his avoidance personally, especially when you’d thought you were finally reaching some sort of middle ground with him.

You sit off to the side of the stage with the rest of the band’s crew as you watch them take their seats for the press interview. Eddie sits on one end of the table while Gareth sits at the other end, the other two members filling the two seats in between. Gareth had no choice but to cover his black eye with a dark shade of glasses, and it seemed like nobody paid mind to it— typical rockstar wardrobe and all.

The interview was off to a good start, with reporters asking questions about the upcoming album, life on the road, and relatively anything about the music. Near the end, however, is when things seemed to get rocky. The questions became more of a filler than anything important, and boys were evidently tired of answering. It wasn’t until a journalist asked a specific question that things seemed to reach a tipping point.

“There’s been rumors that this album has more love songs than usual. Could you confirm or deny that?”

The boys look at each other, and Gareth leans forward to respond, but Eddie beats him to it. “There were a few, yeah, but um… They didn’t make the final cut, so maybe next time.”

The energy vividly shifts amongst the boys; Gareth looks at Eddie and scoffs before leaning back into his chair, clearly throwing in the towel for the rest of the interview. You don’t understand the apparent dispute just now, but you find out when the boys finish the interview and walk into the green room.

“What the fuck, man?” Gareth spits, walking a few paces behind Eddie. “We’re not cutting the song.” His loud voice booms through the room, not caring if anybody will overhear their dispute.

“I’m not putting a song out that you wrote about my fucking ex-girlfriend, Gareth. Are you out of your fucking mind?” Eddie snaps.

Richie turns to the band and crew members and motions for them to leave the room, which nobody even bothers to protest, eager to escape any more awkward conversations for the day. Everybody else makes a beeline for the tour bus, planning to fill in the few hours before rehearsal.

You glance back at the room where Eddie and Gareth are bickering, and you bravely choose to sit in the chair outside the doorway. You try not to stick your nose in their business, but they’re arguing loud enough for you to hear snippets either way. The conversation doesn’t last long before Gareth storms out of the room and down the hall, bursting through the doors and out of sight.

You glance back into the room where Eddie stands, fishing out his pack of cigarettes and sparking up. You figure now is better than ever, so you clench your bag strap and stand up, hesitantly stepping into the room. Clearing your throat once you’re a few steps away from Eddie, you watch as he exhales a cloud of smoke. He glances at you and turns away, “What do you want?”

You take one step closer, “I um… I wanted to apologize.” You begin. He looks at you again, brown eyes tired and riddled with pain— and you can’t imagine how much of a whirlwind the past twenty-four hours have been for him. “For what?” He asks, confusion and annoyance laced within his tone.

He’s turned to face you, shiny chains glistening on his hips beneath the building lights. You shake your head, struggling to find the words, because, was this really even your fault?

You obviously can’t apologize for Gareth fucking his ex-girlfriend— you had no part in that— and it’d seem silly to apologize for accidentally dropping your journal. So, what exactly do you apologize for? How do you let him know that you’re sorry this was how he found out, even if it isn’t entirely your fault?

You decide to try and redirect your wording, “I want you to know that I was never going to put that in the final article.” You say.

Eddie scoffs, taking a drag of his cigarette before responding, “And why would I believe that?” He questions.

He’s gazing at you like the first night you’d met when he was watching you from across the green room and commanding you to leave. You think he has the same intentions now, but Eddie has yet to learn that you’re stubborn.

“Well, for starters, Gareth asked me not to put it in,” you admit. Eddie’s jaw tenses and part of you feels as if you’ve tossed Gareth under the bus, but you had no choice. This was Gareth’s doing, and if you have to tell the ugly truth to save your image, then so be it. “He didn’t tell me why, but I know now. And now that I know the full truth behind that story, I definitely won’t write it in.”

Eddie watches you momentarily, intense eyes burning holes through you before he turns away. He scratches his jaw for a moment, taking a breath before returning to you. Eddie points to you, the burning cigarette hanging between his fingers as he speaks, “You know,” he begins, “somehow, you’ve managed to persuade everyone that you’re some sweet, innocent small-town journalist that just wants to ‘appreciate the artists,’ but that,” he gestures to your bag where he knows your journal is resting, ashes fluttering to the ground with each wave of his hand.

“That proved everything I believed about you.” He says. “People like you are fucking vampires. You suck the life out of people to keep you alive, and it’s fucked up.” He snaps.

Your face twists in anger, subtly shaking your head as you subconsciously step closer, “Eddie, I didn’t… I didn’t even know she was your ex, and if I did, I would’ve never written about it.” You exclaim, tossing your hands in exasperation. “And I’m sorry you found out the way you did, but you can’t hate me for something someone else did!”

Eddie frustratedly rubs his face, “That’s not the point!” He exclaims. “I read your journal. I saw everything I needed to see to confirm that I was right about everything with you and this fucking article.” He stresses, his loud voice echoing throughout the empty room.

“I'm not here to destroy your life, Eddie!” You snap, voice raising to match the level of his own. Eddie steps closer, towering over you and glaring so intensely into your eyes that you almost cower, “I don’t fucking believe that for a second.” He snaps back.

His chest rises and sinks like a rocky boat beneath his angry breaths, and he’s so close you can smell the cigarettes and mint on his breath. The scent of his cologne wrapping around you and choking you like a snake.

You don’t know how much more patient you can be with Eddie. You don’t know how much more of this back-and-forth you can take before it drives you insane. You want it to end. You want him to understand that you’re not his enemy; you never were.

You can only think of doing one thing: unzipping your bag and reaching in to grab your journal. Eddie watches with a hint of confusion in his eyes as you crack open the journal and start flipping through the pages. “What are you doing?” He asks in annoyance, patience running thin at your silence.

You flip through nearly half of the book before finding the pages you sought. You don’t think twice before ripping them out, not even caring if it destroys the binds of your precious journal. “The fuck are you doing?” Eddie asks again.

You tear each page out and drop the book to the floor, ignoring Eddie’s questions as you shred each torn-out page to pieces. Eddie watches in silent and hidden shock as each pen-soaked strip flutters to the ground, creating a heap of trash between where you both stand.

You tear the last piece and let it fall before looking at Eddie, watching as he gazes at the torn pages. Nearly five pages worth of writing, gone.

“There. It’s gone. Do you believe me now?”

Eddie says nothing when he drags his gaze up to look at you, shock-ridden across his face. “I’m not who you say I am, Eddie. I’m not here to ruin your life; that was never my intention.”

Eddie stays silent, seemingly lost for words, and even if you want him to say something, your braveness has begun to falter, and you itch to leave the room. You’re strong-willed, but you’re no fucking superwoman, and Eddie has pulled every exhausting breath out of you, and you can’t seem to get a grip because every time you breathe in, all you smell and feel is Eddie.

Eddie, Eddie, Eddie.

You grab your destroyed journal from the floor, not bothering to try and fix the binding before you shove it back into your bag, and you don’t say another word as you leave the room.

You’ve been writing for hours when you check the clock— twelve thirty-two. The band played a show tonight, but you decided to stay in your hotel to let your ankle rest— you haven’t been taking all the precautions the medic advised you to, so by the time lunch rolled around, you were in an uncomfortable fit of pain. You used your free time by tweaking the draft of your article— adding in new pieces of information and taking out unnecessary notes. You’re about twenty pages in, but by the end of the month, you’ll have compiled it all into ten; but for now, it seems your brain has become a muddled mess of words and ideas.

You suppose drinking three glasses of wine didn’t help fix that, either. You’re tipsy, teetering on the edge of drunk, and that’s a dangerous place to be when you’re practically working. You don’t even want to think of the past drunken works you’ve made; they’re worse than you’d like to admit.

You sigh, dropping your pen onto the hotel desk, leaning back in your chair, and rubbing your hand down your face in exhaustion. You glance over to the chair you’ve propped up to rest your injured leg, deciding that you should probably ice it since you’ve neglected to do so all day.

You figure you’re done writing for the day anyway, so you put your things in order before grabbing the ice bucket and making your way out of the room to find the ice machine.

What you don’t expect to find on your journey is a sleepy Eddie sitting in the hallway just a few doors down from yours. Maybe you drank four glasses of wine.

Out of common, drunk courtesy, you redirect your path and limp over to where he sits, arms folded across his chest and head leaned back against the wall with shut eyes.

You gently say his name to grab his attention, but he doesn’t budge. You shuffle closer, calling his name out again, and when that doesn’t work, you gently nudge him with your non-injured foot. His eyes flutter open, blinking away the light sleep from his eyes as he looks at you.

You tilt your head in question and ask, “What are you doing sleeping in the hallway?”

Eddie shifts in his spot, grunting and glancing at the bucket in your hands. From the looks of it, Eddie is as sober as can be, so you guess he decided to skip out on the after-show festivities they usually partake in. “I um… I lost the key card to my room.” He explains, gesturing to the door across from where he’s seated.

“The band is out for the night, and the lobby’s closed, so…”

You nod in understanding, glancing around the empty hallway, catching sight of a cleaning lady entering a room down the corridor. And technically, you don’t owe Eddie anything.

You could leave him here in the hallway to spend the night sleeping on the hard ground, and it probably wouldn’t bother him either way because Eddie clearly doesn’t like you, but fuck you feel bad.

You’re not a terrible person. You wouldn’t kick somebody when they’re already down, and Eddie… Eddie is clearly down.

Before you can thoroughly think it over, your liquor-weighted mouth speaks before you can stop yourself, “You could crash in my room for the night.”

Eddie looks at you with the blankest expression he could ever muster and blinks, “Why would I do that?”

God, he’s such a fucking asshole.

You shrug, gently swinging the bucket in your hand and glancing around again, “I don’t know, unless you'd like to sit here all night like a moron, then be my guest.”

Your ankle hurts as you stand and wait for Eddie to make up his mind, and just when you almost decide to throw in the towel and let him fend for himself, Eddie grumbles a short “Fine,” and gets up.

You watch as he reaches down to grab his leather jacket and turns to you, “You can go ahead; I have to get ice for my foot.” You tell him, pointing to your door so he knows where to go.

Eddie glances down at your injured leg and says nothing before he reaches forward and gently takes the bucket from your hands— cold, jewelry-covered fingers brushing up against your warm knuckles and sending shivers up your spine.

He hands you his jacket, and you stand silently, confused by the exchange. Before you can ask what he’s doing, he answers your question, “I’ll get the ice.” And he doesn’t even bother looking at you before turning around and leaving to find the ice machine.

You’re too drunk to figure out what that was about, and your ankle is starting to throb under the pressure of standing, so you walk back to your room clutching his jacket and trying your hardest not to let the familiar scent of Eddie knock you dead.

You leave the door slightly propped open for Eddie and place his jacket on the chair near the desk. In the meantime, you busy yourself with removing your suitcase and clothes you’d haphazardly tossed around from the extra bed where Eddie will be sleeping. You figure you’ll just head to bed once Eddie gets here, so you exchange your jeans and fitted top for shorts and a ratty old He-Man shirt from high school.

You’re setting your previous clothes aside when Eddie steps into the room, a bucket full of ice in one hand with a Coke and chips in the other. You raise an eyebrow, questioning the extra items, and he shrugs as he shuts the door with his foot, “What? The vending machine was right next to the ice, and I was hungry.” He explains as he places the bucket on the desk, making sure to avoid placing it on your work pages. He tries his best not to look at what you’ve written, and you don’t point it out when he clears his throat and diverts his attention to something else. He grabs the wine bottle and shakes it, raising an eyebrow when he realizes it’s less than halfway full, “I take it someone had a good time?”

You roll your eyes, walking over to take the bottle and put it back on the desk. “Not that it’s any of your business.” You respond, turning to grab a ziplock to fill with ice. Eddie takes the bag from you and shoos you away, “Go sit down, I’ll do it.”

Your face twists in confusion, “You’re starting to scare me. Are you gonna kill me?”

Eddie laughs and busies himself with scooping large chunks of ice and dropping them into the open ziplock. “I will if you don’t sit down.” He responds.

You relent and walk over to your bed, sitting at the head of the mattress to lean against the pillows near the headboard, doing your best to shove a pillow beneath your foot lazily. You sit silently, hands folded against your stomach, watching Eddie work.

He’s wearing his usual black jeans, decorated with hanging chains from his waist, and a plain white shirt, hidden muscles flexing beneath the soft cotton. His shoulders are broad yet hidden beneath the thick, curly mane of hair he has. Tattoos litter his arms, a few trickling down to his fingers, and you catch glimpses of his knuckles dripping with drops of water from the ice and— fuck.

There’s no way you’re checking out Eddie Munson, the asshole who’s made your life a living hell these past few weeks. You really can’t handle your liquor.

You panic and grab the TV remote, quickly turning it on to fill the silence. You distract yourself by watching the random sitcom playing until Eddie steps into your view. You must’ve been focused on the show because Eddie seems to have traveled to the restroom to get a towel to wrap around your makeshift ice pack. Your sheets are pulled back, leaving your bare legs on display, and you can’t help but squirm when Eddie stands at the foot of the bed and takes in the sight of you.

He says nothing as he gently lowers the ice onto your ankle. His inked fingers sink into the plush cotton of the towel, and if Eddie weren’t an artist, you bet he could land a job as a hand model. Or maybe you’ve really lost it.

His gaze flickers to catch your wide eyes, and you hold your breath when he speaks, “Is it too cold? Do you need another towel?” He asks. You stutter to answer him, so you shake your head no, eventually sputtering out a response of, “N-no, it’s fine. Thank you.”

Eddie turns to grab his snacks and falls into the other bed with a sigh, cracking open the bag of chips and popping a few into his mouth. You grimace and pull the sheets over your body as you comment, “If you bring ants to my room, I swear to god, Munson, I’ll hunt you down.”

Eddie chuckles, glancing at you as you shift around and get comfortable in bed, “Not with that broken foot, you won’t.”

You glare at him over the heap of expensive duvets and pillows, “I wonder whose fault that is?” You respond, falling back into bed when you see him roll his eyes.

Eddie clears his throat after a moment, “Speaking of that,” he begins; you peek over at him once again to watch as he puts the chips aside and grabs the remote to start flicking through channels. “Since we’re off these next four days, you should keep it light on your feet.”

You sarcastically laugh, “Don’t tell me you’re actually concerned for my well-being. This night keeps getting weirder and weirder.” You joke. Eddie pauses his task to glance at you, “No, I just…” You raise an eyebrow, urging him to continue. He rolls his eyes, “I’m not a complete asshole, you know?” He grumbles, turning back to the TV.

You’re snuggled into your sheets now as you watch Eddie flip through the channels, admiring how different features of his face light up under the different colors from the screen. He’s… pretty.

“What do you have planned for your days off?” You question behind a drawn-out yawn. You think you catch a glimpse of a smile on Eddie’s lips, but you can’t see very well in the dim lighting. “My Uncle Wayne is flying in, so… I’m spending time with him,” Eddie explains. You smile, “Your uncle?”

Eddie nods, and you hum, “That’s nice… Can I meet him?”

You’re never drinking wine again.

Eddie looks at you as if you’ve asked him the dumbest question on earth, “Why would… why?”

You shrug, “Maybe he’ll help me figure out why you’re such a grump.” You half-heartedly tease. Eddie scoffs, returning to watch the movie he’s landed on, “If you think I’m grumpy, you’re not equipped to meet Wayne.” He comments. And then something remarkable happens.

Eddie smiles to himself.

It’s small and obviously not meant for your eyes, but you see it either way, and it… fuck, it makes you feel things you would’ve never imagined you could for such an asshole of a man. What is going on?

“He can’t be any worse than you.” You joke. Eddie scoffs, “Nah, Wayne takes the cake for grumpiest man alive,” he bids.

Eddie tells you about Wayne, little memories he remembers that bleed into more memories until, eventually, he’s practically taking a walk down memory road. You go back and forth with him, commenting when you had a similar situation or when Eddie mentioned the same show you loved in high school.

At some point, Eddie’s stories and the low hum of the TV lull you to sleep, and you find yourself lying in cotton candy clouds, sinking into the softness and letting it surround you.

Eddie’s not sure when you checked out on him, but he figures he’d been talking to himself for a while because you're fast asleep when he looks over at you.

He watches you for a moment and appreciates the way the blue and white hues of the TV dance across your face. Your skin looks soft under the fluorescent lights, and he thinks the steady rise and fall of your breaths is more entertaining than any movie he could’ve landed on. And you’re so pretty— soft and molded to perfection, and Eddie thinks he might like you more like this; when you’re not talking and being the most obnoxious person he’s ever met. Eddie hates the feeling he gets in his chest from just looking at you.

You’re cute, he thinks.

He shakes his head to free himself from whatever weird feelings are spiraling through his mind, and he turns off the TV, letting the darkness swallow the room.

He’ll just have to worry about his feelings another time, he thinks.

————

part four

————

a/n: HII U MADE IT TO THE END, U CAN ALL THANK MY STINK @mmunson86 FOR THE TINY PIECE OF FLUFF, THIS WAS FOR U BAE <3 ANYWAYS, PLS LET ME KNOW HOW U LIKED THIS PART I ALWAYS LOVE TO HEAR UR FEEDBACK, ILY BYE

————

cutie lil taglist: @mastermindmiko @whataboutbibi @ryanmxrie @ihatepeanutss @tlclick73 @motherfckerrr @emxxblog @jesssssmaybankk @eddiesguitarskills @bibieddiesgf @chloe-6123 @micheledawn1975 @demxnicprxncess @emma77645 @sidthedollface2 @mvnsonslvt @s-u-t

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onysfavreader · 15 days

Text

Random hc of being Ony's hyperfemblack!wife

You getting spoiled way to much but Ony who doesn't mind because his girl deserves the universe and more

Ony who can never have enough pictures and videos of you on his phone because he is quick to show you off at any chance you recording little maintenance vlogs for your photo shoots together

Ony who just loves you so much and never want to not see you smile

Ony being the only one to help you handle your emotions and make you feel better because he knows you can't help but be so emotional "Shh baby tell me what's wrong" "What happened ma why you look so upset"

Picks you up if you try to walk away from him when you're upset

Ony letting you decorate bc you're helping each other create your dream lives and that included giving you your dream pinterest house and closet lmao

You being the only one who gets to see Ony's soft side after you spent forever trying to get through to him like he put you through the worst when you first started talking but now he makes up for it every day and you brag about it to yourself because it took you forever to get him to that point

You not being any better in the beginning of your relationship those half assed ‘situationships’ could never prepare you for your relationship with Ony your the reason ony’s patience and trust for you is as high as it is

You two giving golden retriever and black cat energy Ony doesn’t look like he likes anyone and doesn’t but is the sweetest ever once you really get to know him especially to you and you looking the sweetest on the outside but you’re are worse then people think Ony is

Ony supporting you through everything and you doing the same even if you don't know exactly what he's doing you trust him

You walking around wrapped in a robe or one of many blankets almost everyday bc your always cold until Ony caught on buying you hoodies and jackets in his size just to see how cute you look when they cover so much more of your body than his

Ony giving you all the hugs kisses and praises he can because he knows you fiend off his attention and will throw the worst fits when you don't get it

You holding onys two fingers instead of his hand bc he's so big

Ony who lifts double your weight on a bad day this and just picks you up and you love it until he pisses you off "Put my ass down now" you shout trying to push him away "Why you not talking to me ma what's wrong" "Boy fuck you" "We gotta work on the mouth of yours" "Ony put me down" You laughed as he carried you to your bedroom “Don’t laugh now” “Baby I’m sorry” “I don’t want to hear none of that ma”

You absolutely loving Ony and the life you've built together

You're only piece of gold jewelry is an anklet with an 'o' charm and you refuse to take off even after he offered to get it in silver

Buying Ony just as many if not more flowers then he buys you

Ony and you having two dogs that are your babies. Ony's being some big 'scary' dog like a black pit bull that absolutely adores you and your a cute little brown toy poodle that Ony tries not to trip over bc they follow him almost as much as you follow him

You and Ony would have different "rooms" that would be your own space yours would be in the attic and he would have his in the basement but you two would still have your bed room

Ony never letting you know what he does for work but he keeps you safe and happy so you push your suspensions aside

You and Ony being the cutest together like your head over heels for him and he completely adores you

You being onys entire world and universe sun and all with the brightest smile on your pretty face and biggest heart

You both having to learn to love but know you want to be with each other for the rest of your lives so you push through the rough patches

Ony cooks and you bake

Ony doing the bathroom, dish, taking out the trash, fixing things, lawn work, bills, bugs, ect

You organizing, decorates, takes care of the dogs, cleans laundry, houses maintenance, groceries, ect

You and Ony who spoil each other rotten and love it

You doing Ony's hair and it's just a cute moment between you two every few weeks one of you will set up the bathroom before going to get the other then you'll sit on the sink with him in front of you most off the time it's quiet as Ony watches you concentrate

You rarely buying Ony gifts because you're always making something for him

You never being able to get enough of Ony

You have the prettiest garden with flowers herbs and fruits that you somehow managed to scared the dogs away from and plug!Ony will some times ask for help when growing his weed

- smut

Definitely the daddy dom of your my dreams he can be the sweetest softest dom ever or the scariest brat tamer but a pleasure dom either way

You almost being apillow princess bc Ony loves being the one to make you cum just by using you but you knowing how to suck it off the bone and neither of you can resist having him down your throat

You being a sweetheart but when you aren’t you can get a horrible attitude and smart mouth only Ony can handle because he knows how to keep your mouth full

Ony can't help but come inside of you so he pays for your birth control

Ony's 's so big and strong and so so big especially compared to you and you love it just the thought turns you on like just looking up at him while you standing next to him maybe holding his fingers and all you can do is squeeze your legs together

Ony fucking you in his hoodies

His voice is music to your ears but His praise will make you're eyes roll back and brain go dumb every time "Fuck you're so good baby just like that" "There you go ma"

You calling him daddy bc what is an Ony

Being each other's biggest eaters

Ony will pick you up and carry you away to your bedroom when he needs you and when you need him you’ll wrap your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist or you’ll straddle his lap until he eventually gets it

You are definitely kinker then ony hands down and has to teach him things like

You liking soft intimate sex and Ony who fucks you so hard you go dumb almost every time And somehow he always knows which one you need

#aot x black reader #ony x black reader #plug!ony #ony x reader #aot onyankopon #ony smut #aot smut

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jupitercomet · 6 months

Text

Leave a Mark

summary - Jake broke your heart when he left you behind. All that remained of him were the memories of when you were in love—and the phone number he never picks up. Now he's back, ready to claim his title. And you think that that's all he wants, that he's completely forgotten about everything you were together, until he tries to fight for you too. But, this time, will you finally be worth more to him than the glory?

warnings - DARK THEMES, boxer au, violence, language, no use of y/n, brief mention of blood, brief use of painkillers, mentions of physical assault, mentions of injury, Jake is 6′5″ because I said so, brief mentions of stalking, mentions of a knife, mentions of drugs and drug use, mentions of steroids, brief talk of parental death

this blog is 18+, minors please do not interact

word count - 4.3k

one new voicemail masterlist

There’s a moment—the briefest of seconds—that you wake up and forget the events of the day before. A moment where Harley’s soft fur under your fingers hasn’t entirely set in and the smell on Jake’s sheets—or the fact they’re Jake’s at all—still feels like it’s just part of your dreams. For a moment, you wake up feeling more rested than you have in weeks. And then you remember.

“Hey, hey,” Jake pushes through the door, quickly setting down the tray of breakfast he’s holding and rushing over to you, a slight look of panic overtaking his face. “It’s okay, you’re okay.”

His hands cup your face and, though you find solace in them, you have to push them away quickly. “Don’t— Please— I need you to not touch me right now.” You scoot away from him, narrowly missing the look of hurt that flashes through his eyes as Harley comes to comfort you with a small whine.

“Yeah, of course. Sorry,” Jake swallows, sitting at the end of the bed to give you some space.

It’s silent for a moment as you stroke Harley’s head, quieting the dog with gentle pets as you stare at the wall in thought. Your head hurts—your injuries still tender—but that’s not what you can focus on right now. You’re trying to stay calm and collected, Dr. Elsher is always reminding you to not jump to conclusions.

“How many?” You ask suddenly.

“What?”

You turn to look at Jake. “How many of my voicemails did you listen to?”

Jake looks down at his fingers. It’s silent for several beats. “All of them.”

Though you were positive hearing those words would send you into a panic, you aren’t nearly as frightened as you thought you’d be. You chalk it up to the vast amount of feelings you’ve gone through in the past 24 hours. Compared to being assaulted by two large men in an alley, learning that your ex boyfriend knows that you’re still very much in love with him doesn’t seem that bad.

“Why?”

Jake furrows his brows slowly. “What do you mean ‘why’?”

“You clearly had no intention of calling me back.” Under your gaze, Jake shifts uncomfortably. “So why did you listen to them?”

Jake still can’t meet your eye, scratching the back of his neck. “I, um, I don’t—”

“Was it an ego boost?” You’re not sure if it should scare you that you sound so numb, so indifferent. “To know that I’m still in love with you while you were off doing whatever you wanted?”

“I wasn’t— I wasn’t doing whatever I wanted…” His words are feeble at best, but almost like you’re speaking into a voicemail, you continue to treat Jake the same way you have for the past year. By telling him everything.

“I didn’t think you were listening to them. I thought I was deleting them before you could— I guess that sounds stupid when I say it out loud. But I told you a lot of things, Jake, a lot of things that deserved a response. You knew I needed you and you did nothing. So if you don’t care about me, why did you listen to them?”

“I do care about you,” Jake’s eyes snap up to you suddenly, his jaw set. “Don’t say that I don’t care about you, I do.”

You purse your lips slowly. “But it doesn’t feel that way to me, Jake. You left me, and said our relationship wasn’t serious, and let me cry over you and beg you to come back without ever saying anything. Where in all of that am I supposed to see that you care about me?”

Jake winces at your words and Harley gets his front paws comfortable in your lap. “I— How can I fix that? What do I have to do to make you believe me?”

Whatever he’s about to say is probably going to hurt you, you know that. But you also know that you can’t keep doing this with him anymore. You need closure. You need Jake to tell you that you never mattered to him, not the way you want to, and that he can’t keep being the person you turn to for everything. “Tell me the truth.”

“Okay,” Jake nods slowly. “I can do that.”

Your fingers tense slightly in Harley’s fur as Jake stares at you. In a weird way, you feel almost proud. If this conversation had happened even a couple months ago, you would have run away. You probably wouldn’t have said anything at all. But now it’s different, now you’re brave enough to be honest and you know you deserve an explanation. It settles over you almost like a blanket. Jake is going to break your heart, and it’s going to hurt for a while, but then you’ll be okay.

“I’m still in love with you.”

The hand petting Harley falters and you suck in a breath. For a second, you think you imagined the words, that you were desperate enough to put them in his mouth. But Jake keeps talking.

“And it’s fucked that it took this much for me to tell you, I know. But… it sucked having to watch you go to that stupid, fucking diner you hate and feel like I was just sitting there. If I went to Texas, I could do something, you know? I wouldn’t just be some deadbeat,” Jake swallows, keeping his eyes trained on Harley who is starting to fall asleep in your lap. “I always— I don’t know. I always kind of felt like you were with me because you’d just gotten used to it. When we broke up, I just wanted you to argue with me. I should have just told you, I know, but I was—” He closes his eyes and takes a breath. “I was scared that maybe you didn’t think we were serious enough to figure Texas out together. And then you agreed. I said our relationship wasn't serious because I wanted you to tell me I was wrong. But you didn’t, so I left…”

Harley lets out a light breath in your lap and it alerts you to the fact that you’re holding your own.

“Then you started leaving me voicemails and I couldn’t— I thought, if I ever called you back, then I’d be forced to find out that I fucked everything up so badly that I couldn’t fix it.” Finally Jake lifts his gaze to you, his eyes pleading and soft. “So… I listened to your voicemails because I’m in love with you.”

You shake your head slowly. “That’s not— That’s not fair, Jake.”

“Angel, please, I—”

“I would have gone to Texas with you, if you asked me. I would have gone.” The words spill out of you before you fully think them through. Because you need Jake to know how wrong he had been. Part of it was your fault, you know that. You needed him so much that you could never truly be honest around him. You were scared he’d know how much he mattered to you and use it against you. Now you want him to know.

“You are the first person I’ve ever loved— The only person. And that matters to me, a lot. But I’ve grown. I— I’m getting better at being honest, and having healthy expectations for people. I can finally give away shoes that make my feet bleed.” You feel silly tearing up, but you sniff it back and dab at your eyes. “I’ve grown. All I need is to know that you have too.”

To your surprise, Jake smiles.

“What?”

“Nothing,” he shakes his head. “Nothing. It’s just—” He cuts himself off when he notices you wince, a dull throb lighting up your temple. He gets up, grabbing the tray of breakfast from the nightstand. “Here. You should eat first, and take some medicine, we can talk after.”

Harley’s still in your lap and Jake looks like he’s trying to figure out what to do with the tray because of it. Obviously, you know what the simplest solution would be, but Jake seems hesitant and you realize he’s trying to respect your boundaries. Wordlessly, you pat the spot next to you. Jake sits down, quickly setting the tray on his lap.

“I didn’t know you knew how to cook.” It slips out before you can stop it as you look down at the omelet and toast sitting on a plate.

Jake chuckles, scratching at the back of his head. “I don’t really. But I picked up a few things.”

He cuts up the omelet for you before handing you the plate as Harley is now out cold on your lap. You sit in silence as you eat, occasionally Jake would swap out your plate for a sip of orange juice or the tylenol he brought for your head. You offer him some of your omelet which he accepts with a small smile and it occurs to you then that, before, you and Jake had never really been the couple to sit and have breakfast together. There was always a morning shift or trip to the gym that got into the way. You wonder if, had you both had breakfast together, things would have gone differently.

“Do you have work today?”

You nod, swallowing. “In the afternoon. I get off at 5:00.”

Honestly, after everything that happened yesterday, you just want to call in sick, but you know that Tracy’s already called out and so it’s not really an option anymore. Jake clears his throat next to you.

“I’m still gonna take you… if that’s okay?” He takes your plate from you and trades it for the glass of orange juice.

“Will you pick me up too?”

“Of course I will, angel.” Like he doesn’t even have to think about it, Jake wipes a crumb of toast from the corner of your mouth. “That was already nonnegotiable, sweetheart.”

“Okay.” You aren’t sure how to feel about Jake—and the multiple confessions he made in the past 24 hours—but he’s one of the few people you feel safe with, one of the few people you have. And, as much as a part of you wants to be away from him to just think, a much larger part of you is still quite shaken. You just want to feel safe again.

“Okay,” Jake repeats, moving the tray back to the nightstand before gently moving Harley off your lap. Harley grumbles in protest, but Jake just laughs at him, holding a hand out for you with a smile. “Come on, Nurse Jake needs to make sure everything’s healing okay.”

Despite everything, you laugh.

The bell to Knockouts rings to alert everyone that someone has entered the building, though there’s really no reason for it, two men well over 6 feet are hard to miss. Jake leads Bradley to where he knows your section is, sitting down at one of the booths wordlessly as the other man glances around.

“We’re doing this here?”

“Yes,” Jake grits, part of him is still mad that Bradley had dodged him when he tried to punch him in the face. Adler kicked them both out of the gym, giving Bradley an unreadable look as he did so, and told them to figure their shit out before they came back.

Bradley sits down. Jake honestly can’t remember the last time he talked to Bradley. He’s seen him around Mav’s since he’s been back, but the brunet has always been a man of little words anyway, so Jake hardly counts it. They were somewhat closer back when they were both rookies. It’s honestly nostalgic to think about, given both their success now. But Jake doesn’t care about that right now. Right now, he just wants to punch Bradley in the face.

“Hi, can I get you two drinks—” Your eyes widen in surprise when you realize it’s Jake at your table, your menus almost slipping from your grip.

“Yeah, actually.” Looking up at you, Jake can’t help but grin, his anger at the man across from him all but forgotten. “Do y’all have mango smoothies, angel?”

Jake hears Bradley let out a small scoff.

The trace of a smile is playing on your lips as you contemplate your next words slightly unsurely. “We do… And, um, we also have milkshakes.”

“Oh, I can’t stand milkshakes, sweetheart.” Jake lights up at your words, though he tries to keep up the appearance that he’s anything but delighted. “They’re just Big Milk’s way to covertly infiltrate the life of the average consumer,” he wrinkles his nose in mock disgust. The expression drops quickly when he hears you trying to stifle a giggle.

Bradley abruptly ruins the moment by grunting out that he’ll take a water, but there’s still a small smile on your face as you jot down their drink orders. “I’ll have those right out for you then.”

Jake’s met with Bradley’s glare when his gaze stops following you to the kitchen and the brunet rolls his eyes. “Can you not flirt with our waitress? Or is it too difficult to control yourself around any woman that moves?”

“Wait,” Jake furrows his brows. “You don’t know her?”

“No, she’s just been my waitress a couple times.”

Jake pauses as he looks at Bradley in thought. “Did you come here yesterday?”

“Yeah,” Bradley answers.

“And she was your waitress, right?— Wait, did you eat alone?”

“No,” Bradley looks at him suspiciously. When Jake raises his brows expectantly, Bradley reluctantly continues. “I was with Adler’s daughter.”

Jake’s eyebrows jump to his forehead. “Why were you with Adler’s daughter?”

“Why are you asking?” Bradley’s eyes narrow. “You still haven’t told me what the fuck this is about, Hangman.”

“Right, fine. My girl got attacked last night and the only thing they wanted was to leave a message for you. I wanna know what the fuck you just dragged her into.”

Bradley glances at the kitchen door, brows furrowed as if trying to remember you as anything more than a waitress. “What did they say?”

“They just said to leave it alone if you know what’s good for you,” Jake recites, keeping his voice low if only to control his anger. “But they called you ‘Rooster’ and she didn’t recognize it. She doesn’t even seem to know you anyway, so why would they think she does, Rooster?”

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Bradley sighs deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Jake scoffs, rage bubbling in his stomach, and now he really wishes he punched Bradley in the face. “Is the fact that you almost got my girl murdered an inconvenience for you, Bradshaw?”

Bradley rolls his eyes. “No, so you can cool it with the whole guard dog shit.” He glances around the diner, before dropping his voice. “Look, you wanna know what’s going on? I’ll tell you, but it’s some shady fucking shit, Hangman—”

“Sorry about that,” you rush back over to the table, looking quite frazzled as you set down a mango smoothie and a glass of water. “Can I, um, can I get you anything else?”

“We’re fine,” Bradley answers.

You nod, looking somewhat relieved, but Jake’s catching your hand before you can walk away. “What happened to your finger?”

He’s holding the digit tenderly, inspecting the slice in your skin with worried eyes. You swallow shakily, looking at him like a deer in the headlights as you catch your breath. “I— I was washing out the blender and someone put a knife in the sink. I’m fine though—”

“You have a band-aid?” Jake asks, his gaze still trained on your injured finger.

You pull one out of your apron pocket and Jake takes it from you, only dropping your finger to open the wrapping. You watch silently as his large fingers delicately wrap the latex around your wound. He lets his thumb smooth out the padded square of your band-aid before he looks up at you.

“There,” he smiles softly.

You swallow. “Thank you.”

You walk away from the table after your gaze lingers for just a second and Jake watches you leave. Bradley looks at him flatly.

“I wish you would have just punched me in the face.”

“That can still be arranged, dipshit,” Jake growls, his gentle demeanor dropping. “Now start talking.”

And Bradley does. He explains how a poorly timed photograph resulted in Razor thinking that Bradley was in a relationship with Coach Adler’s daughter. Razor, Jake remembers—unlike most of the other boxers he’s come home to—he and Bradley had started their rivalry fairly quickly in their careers and Jake had never liked him all that much either. Razor then started stalking Adler’s daughter, causing her to move in with Bradley for protection. The young woman is more than friendly, having, on numerous occasions, started very affable conversations with you. Bradley just happened to be there for all of them.

Jake let out an incredulous laugh. “Jesus Christ, Rooster! Do you even talk to women?”

“Fuck off,” Bradley grunts. “You wanna know what’s going on or what?”

Jake holds his hands up in mock surrender.

“I’ve been looking for Razor, but not even Natasha has seen him. She told me he’s been on drugs, which I thought was bullshit.” Jake nods in agreement. Boxers in both Mav’s gym and Abnesti’s—where Razor fights—get drug tested every two weeks. There’s no way Razor could be on drugs and still fighting. “But she sent me to this address he sent her once… You ever heard of gephorce?”

“Gephorce?”

Bradley nods. “I picked it up from this random, sketchy ass dry cleaners. Here,” he pulls his phone out to show Jake a picture.

It’s of two glass bottles, no taller than a nail polish, both filled with clear liquid, as well as a pack of needles. Jake zooms in on the picture with furrowed brows. “Dude, those are steroids.”

“What?”

“I knew a few guys in Texas who used them,” Jake explains, handing Bradley back his phone. “Those are fucking steroids.”

“What kind of steroids can pass a drug test undetected?”

Jake shrugs. “Hell if I know. That seems like the sketchy shit Mav’s into.”

“I’ve been trying to drop them off at the gym, but I haven’t been able to because I don’t want to leave—” Bradley almost seems to falter, which is unusual for Bradley, but he clears his throat. “I just haven’t.” He pauses, eyes snapping to Jake suddenly. “But you could.”

“Absolutely not.” Jake shakes his head. “There’s no way I’m getting involved in this shit,” he says firmly.

Bradley purses his lips. “I’m not asking you to. I’m just asking you to drop something off at Mav’s for me.”

“Do you fucking hear yourself? With your track record, in the amount of time we’ve been talking, these people must think we’re married with a baby on the way!”

Jake takes a deep breath, letting his eyes land on your profile, taking in your soft smile and kind eyes. He knew he loved you almost the second he stepped foot in Texas and when he listened to your voicemails that should have been his chance. But he still wasn’t the person he wanted to be yet and what was he even supposed to do? Call you and admit that he had been scared?

But then something happened to you, something happened because he hadn’t been there. He should have been, but he wasn’t. And all he could think about was the fact that he could have lost you forever. No more running into you in public, no more voicemails. Even the little part of you he had, this little piece of something that mattered, would have been ripped away from him. Again.

Jake didn’t like to think about his mom that often—at least, not her death anyway. It had been a few years ago and Jake thinks he’s come to terms with it fairly well. He knows at the time he threw himself into boxing and neglected most of his relationships, even yours, but he likes to think that he’s gotten better. But you had been the one to help him through it, you had been the one to give him some meaning again. And the thought that he almost lost you too terrified him.

He’s sure Javy would laugh in his face—if the situation wasn’t so serious—at how, practically overnight, Jake had made this complete turn around. But in the morning, when Jake had expected you to yell at him, or leave, or never let him near you again, all you asked was that he tell you the truth. And he realized that the person he thought he had to be for you was never the one you wanted anyway. You’re giving Jake another chance, a chance to love you like he always should have, and Jake is going to make up for every second that he should have been there while you were shivering in that alley. He’s going to make up for every second he should have been there for the past year and a half.

“Look, I’m sorry man, but you didn’t see her, okay? It was— Whoever these people are, they’re dangerous. I can’t let something like that happen to her again. I won’t.” He looks for you again and, just like that day in the butterfly pavilion, it’s like suddenly all he knows how to do is look at you. “I won’t.”

“You really don’t have to keep waiting there for me to finish my shifts. You can always go do something else,” you try to assure Jake as he takes his helmet off your head.

“Yes, I do,” he smiles softly. “And what else would I do, angel?”

After each of your shifts ends, Jake gives you the option of either going to his house or your apartment. You know you should probably ask for him to take you home—you need time to think about everything. But then that would mean you were thinking about everything, and that wasn’t something you really wanted to do alone. Besides, he’d given you the bedroom while he slept on the couch, which means you had plenty of time to think anyway.

“You could go to the gym or something. I don’t want you to think that I expect you to just wait for me.” You trail after him as he starts heading to his front door.

“I don’t think that, angel,” Jake turns so he can look you directly in the eye. “I feel better knowing that I know where you are and what’s going on. ‘Sides, I get to stare at you for hours and I love doing that.” Your lips part in surprise, your cheeks burning, and Jake grins, opening the door. “This honesty thing is fun.”

That was another thing Jake had started doing. Ever since you asked him to tell you the truth, he started taking it upon himself to do that all the time. It was mostly an excuse to flirt with you, but he also compliments you a lot more genuinely or asks if you want to do things together more often. It’s nice.

Harley greets you at the door, completely sidestepping Jake, and the man looks down at him in exaggerated offense. You giggle as you reach down to scratch Harley’s head and the dog wags his stubby tail excitedly.

“Unbelievable,” Jake throws his hands up dramatically. “You don’t even say hi to me anymore?”

Harley turns to look at his owner, giving him the most unimpressed look a dog can manage, before looking back at you. You can’t help but laugh at Jake’s expression.

“Yeah, alright, jerk. I like her more than you too,” Jake scoffs, putting his shoes away before he glances at your temple and his eyes soften. “Let me look at your head again, sweetheart.”

When Jake finds himself turning over on the couch for the fourth time in two minutes, he sits up with a sigh. It’s a little after midnight and, though you both had gone to bed hours ago, he can’t seem to fall asleep. Getting up, he pads out of the living room quietly, walking over to the door frame of his bedroom and peeking inside.

You’d been leaving the door open for Harley’s sake, though the dog hardly leaves your side so Jake knows there’s really no reason to. Still, it allows him to check on you when he needs to.

You’re asleep in the middle of the bed, Harley stretched out next to you as one of your arms is thrown around him. Moonlight casts in through the room’s sliding glass door and it shines gently on your features. Jake watches you carefully, taking in your peaceful expression for any sign of distress, but doesn’t find any. He knows you are scared though, it’s the reason you came out with a suitcase when you both stopped at your apartment to grab some things this morning.

Jake’s jaw clenches at the thought. Though he’s been trying to ignore them, Bradley’s words have been playing in his head in a constant loop. He meant it when he said that he wasn’t going to do anything to bring you into whatever Bradley has found himself in. But maybe the damage had already been done. Clearly Bradley has no plans to just forget about whatever he’s found—not until he’s figured it out—and if these people already think you’re some kind of leverage against him, what’s to stop them from hurting you again? The only way Jake would know for certain that you were safe is if he makes sure they can never hurt you himself.

It takes one more look at you sleeping soundly in his bed, your chest rising and falling rhythmically, for Jake to take his phone out from his pocket. He clicks on Bradley’s contact.

Alright

I’m in

join my Jake Seresin taglist here or follow my library @jupitercometgold

comments and reblogs are always appreciated! thank you for reading!

Jake taglist:

@dempy

@kmc1989

@s-u-t

@lonelywitchv2

@cottagecori

@avengersgirllorianna

@under-the-seas

@auroraacrane

@olivia21blunt

@dreamlandcreations

@blue-aconite

@averyhotchner

@sgt-barnesveins

@lillunna

@mamachasesmayhem

@appledressing

@bradswolfe

@lynnevanss

@babyyy2020

@thekebs

@deliriousfangirl61

@callsign-cacti

@yoonbutterfly

@liliana234567

@uniquedreamlandcheesecake

@redbarn1995

@wishingwell-2

@justenoughmadness

@petemitchells

@hookslove1592

@pietrothemovie

@tiredqueen73

@linkpk88

@daddymack01

@smallishbook

@cheesecakeinahole

@berryjuicyy

@ohsolvingaddiction

@takemetooneverlanddd

@fangirling-4-ever

@sveetnn

@queerqueenlynn

@yuckosworld

@scoopsr0bin

@bobgasm

@sailor-aviator

@agentorange9595

@trickphotography2

@lunamoonbby

@valianttyrantexpert

@katiedid-3

@beezusinc

@loveofvernonslife

@katima-silline

@krispybearbouqeut

@shadeds-library

@rogersbarnesxx

@et-homephone

@fangirlvibez

@lilacwh0re

@moonlight-addisyn

@alana4610

@sanfransolomitatm

@topnerd03

@illicithallways

@talktomegooseman

@callsign-magnolia

@shadowsndaisies

@taytaylala12

@blindedbyyourgrace17

@formulapierre

@shakespeareanwannabe

@starswin

@bloop-bleep-sheep

@ephemeralninon

@devil-angel-winchester

@rosedurin

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#jake seresin imagine #jake seresin imagines #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin x you #jake seresin fanfiction #jake seresin fic #hangman imagine #hangman imagines #hangman x reader #hangman x you #hangman fanfiction #hangman fic #top gun maverick imagines #top gun maverick fanfiction #x reader #one new voicemail #under the hard deck #buggy's got a pen

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elysiumarchieve · 1 year

Note

Scaramouche kissing headcannons? Pretty please???

combining these two requests because i can fit them well together!

scaramouche kissing headcanons

warnings: fluff, and my horrible attempts at explaining kisses, i feel bad putting him as a warning the entire time but he is a menace

✧ scaramouche,, isn't too fond of physical affection

✧ in his eyes, it's weird that people press their mouths together and 'make out', which literally looks like they are eating each other's face (he watched fatui recruits make out in the hallways, my dude saw some wild stuff)

✧ however, scaramouche is open to learn more about kisses, though you need time and patience to warm him up to the idea

✧ while he likes soft pecks on his cheeks when he isn't in the mood for more affection, he becomes really soft around you (and his cheeks are extremely squishy and you feel like you have to thank the shogun for creating him like this)

✧ cup his cheeks and pepper his face with kisses and he will groan at your display of affection, but never dares to make any argument against you - in fact, if you would stop due to his reaction, he'll glare at you and ask immediately why you stopped

✧ for him, kisses are really intimate. after all, he wouldn't press his mouth onto anyone else mouth other than yours that is, so that's that

✧ i see him as the type of person to grab your hands and press soft kisses onto the back of your hand, your fingertips and any small wound you have from fighting that he could find. he also likes pressing his face into the palm of your hand afterwards, a smug grin on his face when he notices your startled and flustered expression on your face as you try to process what he just did. it's such a simple act to show how much he truly appreciates you and yet you always have the same shocked look on your face.

✧ kisses with scaramouche are not an everyday thing. while he has his five minutes in which he might be more demanding for affection than on other days, he doesn't really want to to kiss you the entire time. if you ever come home to him however and kiss him on the lips unprompted, he'll scoff but won't ever refuse you

✧ despite that, kissing him for real, on his actual lips is somewhat of an experience. you can tell he has never done this before and it bothers him to the point of wanting to reject any sort of affection like this, so that's why you need patience. he'll quickly believe that he is of no use if he is unable to perform any task before him, even if it might be a simple kiss (it's the trauma)

✧ his kisses are slow but demanding, leaving you breathless when he parts from you. his hands usually cup your face in an almost possessive way, his way of making sure you're not actually leaving (which sounds stupid in his head since you're right?? there??). his kisses might be slow and somewhat sensual, something rather unexpected from the balladeer of all people, but he's demanding your entire attention to be directed at him, to only see him in those few seconds and that you wouldn't dare even to think about anyone else

✧ he doesn't really peck your face or suddenly attack you with a barrage of kisses, but rather, when he happens to be in a good mood, he'll kiss your forehead gently and immediately turn away and leave the scene as quickly as possible

✧ in a way he reminds you of how snow is, ice cold to the touch but melts right away when coming in contact with your skin - scaramouche was just like that. with no natural body warmth and nothing to essentially make him human, he struggles with himself in a way you couldn't understand but try and grasp upon his feelings

✧ you know that the only reason he still wants to keep you at an arms length at times is rooted in his own fear of being abandoned, something you'd never dare to speak up about with him. knowing him, he'd get upset if you ever mentioned any hidden insecurity of his

✧ so when he kisses you, a small gentle kiss to the back of your hand, a loving kiss on the lips that only you ever came to receive from him, he was similar to a snowflake melting and warming up. he might be cold to the touch, but his heart must be otherwise, that's what you're certain about

✧ at one point, scaramouche might even become impatient if you forget to kiss him after returning home or if you forget your daily peck on his cheek (something he wants to hate but craves as a part of his routine)

✧ sitting across the room, he might clear his throat multiple times, his arms crossed before his chest as he glares at you expectantly

✧ if you have the audacity to ask him what's wrong he'll scoff, simply asking in a deadpan tone if you didn't forget about something - if you still can't remember, scaramouche won't say it and leave the room just moments later, mumbling something under his breath not even you could understand. his pride doesn't allow him to ask for kisses, and besides, how could you forget? (he's more bothered by the fact that he hated not receiving any kiss that morning as you were in a hurry)

✧ why don't you magically understand what he wants from you? stupid mortal

✧ it's not until weeks later you notice the subtle pattern in his behavior. if you kissed his cheek he wouldn't sit down at the same spot and clear his throat pasisve aggressively, sitting there with his arms crossed and glaring at you

✧ if you ask him about it in a rather amused tone, he'll huff and dismiss you, claiming that 'you're too stupid to even remember your own routine' - you don't press this matter and simply give him a peck on his cheek

✧ my poor boy never received any love, so any form of affection and especially physical affection feels foreign to him, so he needs time to warm up to it. however, in his case it's absolutely worth it - for him as for you, he can show you even further how important you are to him, even if it was just a simple kiss

✧ and being a little shit, he expects the same treatment for him without having to ask for it. after all, you said this is what lovers do, so it should come natural to you, right?

✧ he won't admit that he likes kisses. he will never admit this, but you know better

#genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin #headcanons #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche #kunikuzushi

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hotreadingwitch · 4 months

Text

MADE TO LIE - the confession

Content Warnings/Kinks: praise kink, dominance, hickeys, scratching, cum swallowing/cum play, oral sex (female receiving), unprotected vaginal sex

BUCKY

Bucky woke up to find the sun streaming in through the large, paned hotel window. Taking in a sleepy breath, he could barely believe how well this mission had worked out for him in the end. Though he’d almost been caught the night before, almost being forced to return to his life as the Winter Soldier, he’d also found someone who he valued as more than just a colleague or a teammate. The smile that painted his face when he turned over to see Y/n still sleeping, hair spread around her on the pillow in a messy halo and his shirt buttoned up over her frame, was both wide and pure. Last night, she’d insisted on wearing the oversized item, ignoring the fact that it looked more like a short dress on her than a shirt. He’d given in, of course, wanting her to have every comfort that she desired, especially with the complex pain he knew she must be feeling after the confrontation with the Cranes and her father.

It took him just 10 minutes to get two coffees from a sweet barista at the cafe below the hotel and return to their suite. When he got back, Y/n was still asleep, likely exhausted. He placed the coffees on the bedside table before sitting on the edge, beside Y/n’s slumbering form.

“Doll,” he woke her, with a gentle hand on her shoulder, his voice quiet and comforting.

She swatted at him, her hand sharp and fast as a bullet but one that he dodged easily, mumbling grumpily, “Bucky…”

“You’ve got to get up eventually doll, why not now?”

“I never pegged you as a morning person” she smiled then, a small but genuine grin.

A tense silence formed quickly in the echo of her words as her smile faltered, the events of the night before playing out in both their minds.

“I think we should talk…” Bucky started.

“About?”

“Y/n…”

“About what, Bucky?” she raised a shaky eyebrow, her calm mask cracking.

Bucky sighed before pushing through, “About what your father sai—”

“I don’t want to talk about that,” Y/n hesitated, interrupting before letting out a low whisper, “Talking about it will ruin everything Bucky, he ruins everything”

He came towards her, his gaze soft, “Please doll, hear me out…If we decided to continue whatever this is I think you might be the best thing that could ever happen to me” Her sleepy eyes turned up to look at him hopefully, the sight practically breaking his heart as he pushed himself to continue, “…But I’d probably be the worst thing that could happen to you”

“You’re wrong, you know that?” she whispered back bravely, “I’ve been through the worst already, there’s nothing you could do that could break me now…I want you Bucky, please”

“That’s not exactly good Y/n” he sighed, frustrated but still speaking calmly, sadly, “You’ve been through so much that if I ruined your entire life you wouldn’t even blink an eye. That’s—that’s toxic. I don’t want to be the next thing that hurts you”

“You won’t be” she stated plainly.

“I’m not fully—“ he paused, “There’s still work I have to do before I’m good…what if I make a mistake that causes you more pain?”

“Then you’ll learn”

He ran an exasperated hand through his cropped hair, grasping at straws, “I still have nightmares—what happens if you’re in my bed and I kill you in my sleep?”

“That’s a chance I’m willing to take” she replied strongly, “Listen, I can’t picture my future without you anymore…everybody needs somebody Bucky and you’re my somebody”

“But what if I—”

“I know Bucky, I know, okay? Do you think I don’t get what it’s like to make mistakes? To have done bad things? To have regrets?” she said, trying her best to keep her voice calm despite her jumping heart rate. She took his calloused hands in her own, and he let her, “I know what it’s like to be afraid of yourself, believe me. But we can do it together, learn how to be better together…I’m willing Bucky, you just have to trust me”

He squeezed her hands with his own, searching her eyes, for what, even he didn’t know.

“I’m afraid I won’t be able to be the man that you need, that you deserve, and that I’ll give my all to you and it still won’t be enough. I don’t want this to end in heartbreak.” His eyes softened, misty, yet without any tears falling like he was trying to keep himself together and failing miserably. That ball in his stomach was rolling around, wreaking havoc. And yet, Y/n’s words were making the feeling calmer by the second, making him feel like he could reach for what he wanted without fear for the first time.

“It’s always going to be a risk”

“I haven’t taken many of those in my life, not really, but all the brave people I know have. Steve. Sam. Natasha. You…” He paused, brushing her cheek gently with his knuckle. “You have, you’re so brave Y/n, more brave than you could ever know.”

“It’s always going to be a risk Bucky” she repeated quietly, her words striking him at his core.

“I’ve lived a long and loveless life Y/n,” he rasped with a wet chuckle, continuing even when she opened her mouth to interrupt, “No, listen, please. Yes, I’ve had good friends and good family but never…love, not like this. I don’t want to give up on us doll—So maybe I can be brave for you if you let me, and we’ll be alright?”

“We will be, I know it” She leaned toward him, hesitating before planting a gentle kiss on his stubbly cheekbone.

“How?” he huffed with a small smile, having already admitted defeat.

“I just do” she kissed his cheek again, “I just do…”

Y/N

His lips touched her forehead in one intimate motion before he trailed down to her mouth, capturing her in a kiss that she’d likely never forget.

Her hands traced down from the sturdy contour of his jaw to his neck to his chest to his arms, metal and flesh, barely able to keep her hands off of him. His gaze pierced her before he tucked his lips to the crook of her neck, making her groan at the sensation. There was heat between them, sure, a heat that was quickly growing from a small flame into a full, blazing fire but it was the warmth in Bucky’s eyes, the unabashed trust, and the grounding feeling she gained from each kiss, that truly made her feel red-hot.

She pulled his shirt over his head, tossing it to the side before he began to unbutton his own shirt that she was still wearing from the night before. The cool air hit her nipples, making them peak. They kissed and kissed and kissed, Y/n reaching up to wrap her arms around his neck as they did, groaning into his mouth. When she finally pulled back, her eyes scanned over his body, taking his armour off piece by imaginary piece. It felt good—being vulnerable with him, touching him—so good that she felt the full-bodied sense of love settling deep in her bones.

“Please don’t make me wait any longer” she begged, her hands grazing the band of his pants as she sat down on the bed’s edge, him towering over her.

“The coffees are going to go cold…” he hesitated with a shy smirk.

“I don’t care” she breathed as Bucky sunk to his knees.

She spread her legs instinctively, needing his mouth on her more than she needed anything. In that moment, she thought she’d take a single orgasm from him over her own happiness, though, she had a feeling that he’d never leave her without either, pleasure or joy, ever again.

“Please” her whimpered plea was desperate yet unashamed.

When he connected his mouth to her it sent a sharp feeling instantly through her body, one that went straight to her clit.

“Fuck” she gasped, immediately gripping her hands in his short hair.

He kissed the sensitive area, looking up at her, “That feel good doll?”

She ground her hips upward, arching to meet his soft lips.

“Yes—shit—yes, it feels so good Bucky”

He chuckled darkly before reconnecting to her, his tongue sweeping over her wet hole before moving up toward her clit. He used his strong fingers to part her lips, spreading them so that he had better access to the sensitive area. He started slow, licking at her languidly, making her breath hitch and her hips buck upward restlessly. But Y/n’s low whines and her tight grip on his hair made him go faster and faster as if he couldn’t resist giving her the pleasure she craved until his tongue was moving so quickly back and forth it was a blur across her clit.

“I can’t get over how good you taste doll—fuck” he groaned as he lapped lower with his tongue, teasing her needy hole before returning to her clit.

She arched again, shivering at the way the slight change in angle made the feeling of his licking at her clit even more intense.

“I can’t take—fuck—please Bucky, I need you in me now”

Removing his mouth from her, he took his fingers and caressed her sopping hole. Holding it up to the light, he groaned at the sight of her wetness. Y/n looked down, gulping as she noticed the hard, strained bulge waiting in his pants. Her eyes widened even more then, pupils blown with pure desire, as he brought her slick to his lips, tasting her without shame. “You really do taste so good” he chuckled, smiling handsomely when the comment made her flush.

His fingers returned to her hole, gently moving them around and around without once pushing into her. His small smile was dangerous.

“You’re ready to take it doll?” he questioned, kissing her inner thigh as he teased her.

She shivered in response, whining his name, “Bucky…”

“I asked you a question” he glared from below, his dominance taking over, “Don’t make me ask you again”

“Yes” she rushed her response, “I want it, please Bucky, I need to feel you inside me”

He praised her skin with his mouth, tracing sloppy kisses down her neck to the space between her breasts before finally removing his pants and positioning himself in front of her. Her legs wrapped around him as she balanced her ass on the edge of the massive bed.

“You’re sure?”

“Yes—God, Bucky if you don’t—“

Her words fell off in an instant as he slid the first half of himself into her. She’d somehow forgotten just how big he was, letting out a hiss and a loud moan at the immediate feelings of pleasure.

“You’re so fucking tight around me doll” he spat out, his voice a low growl.

He was only halfway in her and still, she clenched around him desperately, needing more, more, more.

“Deeper, deeper please” she begged.

With a huff he pushed deep into her until he was fully seated inside, her walls squeezing around him.

“F—fuck” he growled, his breathing heavy as he started to thrust.

The feeling of his full length slamming into her was overwhelming, to say the least. It was heat and tension and desperation and adoration all mixed together. She rocked her hips along with his in perfect rhythm, moving completely in sync with him. Her breath hitched as he ground into her, placing his hands, both flesh and metal on her hips. The more she arched the better he felt inside her like he was reaching parts of her that she didn’t even know were there.

“Hold on…” he commanded, his voice dark as he thrust and thrust, “Hold onto me doll—fuck”

She reached her hands around him, scratching them down his back, making him growl. He pushed further into her, the weight of him between her legs made them spread even wider. She arched, groaning as he returned his lips to her neck, sucking, leaving a trail of marks behind, marks that declared she was his.

“Bucky” she moaned, lost to the haze of the pleasure, “I need—“

In an instant his fingers were on her clit sliding back and forth across her wet pussy, beginning to please her just how he knew she liked it. His thrusts were harsh and full of need, hers as much as his. Her gaze flitted upward, startling at the pure desire that was reflected in his eyes. It felt good to be pleasured, to be worshipped by him.

“From the moment my lips touched your body—fuck—from the moment I met you” he whispered with reverence, planting kisses down the length of her neck, “I’ve known you were the one”

“I—Bucky,” she cried out, her words interrupted by her moans.

“Tell me doll, let me hear it,” he groaned, eyes fiery.

“I feel the same way…about you” she whimpered, feeling her release coming closer and closer Her hands grazed over his body, over his arms—one cool metal under her fingertips and the other truly warmer than the sun, “You’ve always been the one for me”

Bucky thrust down into her as his fingers fiercely rubbed over her clit, bringing her closer and closer to the edge, all while kissing her neck, her jaw, and her forehead.

“Bucky” she moaned, her breathing laboured.

“I can feel you cumming” he strained, brushing a stray hair from her face in one intimate swipe, “so fucking tight—such a good girl for me”

She tensed before the sensitivity ricocheted through her entire being, making her chest and legs shake beneath him as he gripped her waist while the other hand played with her clit. As she came it felt like dying, an intense, body-rocking death that was quickly followed by the most glorious of rebirths. Bucky came just after her and Y/n held his shoulders as he did, supporting him like he had held her, his deep, breathy moans tickling her ear.

“Fuck, fuck” he groaned before collapsing beside her.

She straddled him then, easing on top of him, mindful of his still slick cock throbbing below her, leaning forward to kiss him. His strong hands ran up the length of her back, practically cradling her as he kissed her back.

“Thank you” she whispered, feeling fully satiated and hopeful for their future.

“Thank you, doll” he kissed her cheek. Pushing her hair back again out of her face, properly gazing at her with love and affection, both their hearts feeling full.

Bucky and Y/n’s relationship was delicate. One wrong move could cause disaster but it seemed that neither of them really cared anymore. They both knew well then that everything is always a risk. They knew too that love, true love, was one worth taking.

A/N - This is the last chapter of this mini-series/novella!! Thank you all for so much love with this, I'll be forever grateful that the chapters have been so well-received here and on Wattpad. The epilogue chapter will be on Christmas Day or the day after!

requested account tags: cjand10 identity2212 bucky-jbb-sunshine unaxv hnnhbananananana @differenttyphoonwerewolf

#fanfiction #fanfic #marvel smut #marvel #marvel fanfic #mcu #mcu fanfiction #bucky smut #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #james bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fanfiction #smut

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tropes-and-tales · 1 year

Text

Team Prime, Part One

CW: Unrequited love; pining; heavy angst.

Word Count: 5349

Other pieces: This is part of a mini-series.

AN: Not beta-read; barely proof-read. An angsty companion piece to @youvebeenlivingfictional's Jake Seresin piece (and upcoming Bradley Bradshaw piece).

When your sister, Hannah, gets engaged to her long-term boyfriend, she chooses you over your other sisters to be her maid of honor.

“Maid of horrors, more like,” you grumble, but you’re secretly touched by the trust she puts in you. She and Eric have dated since high school, and they’ve been through a lot—mostly long-distance during the years as she went to college and graduate school and as he joined the Navy. And yet here they are. Still together. Still in love. Ready to make it official-official.

“Eric’s best friend from the Navy will be the best man,” Hannah tells you. “I met him a few times. Bob Floyd. He’s nice. You’ll like him.”

Bob Floyd. Something about the name puts you in mind of a middle aged man with strong opinions about lawn maintenance and grilling meats, so when you finally meet the baby-faced Bob with his bright blue eyes and stammering flush at the engagement party, you find yourself surprised, knocked back on your heels.

-----

You were never the sort of girl who dreamt about her wedding day, but when Hannah foists much of the wedding planning onto you, you decide then and there to elope if you ever meet someone you want to marry.

The cake tasting wouldn’t be bad, but Hannah has an entire binder of ideas she gleaned from the internet. It’s difficult to enjoy the white cake with raspberry compote, for example, when you’re worried about how the pearl luster dust will hold up under the California sun.

The venue only rents out some things in-house, so you spend two entire weekends tracking down a dance floor, chairs, linens. You pick the wrong linens (white instead of cream), and you have a minor breakdown that night, crying in the shower at the stress of planning a party that isn’t even for you.

It’s a moment of weakness. At the engagement party, Bob gave you his number and mumbled shyly, “if you need help. You know, with the planning or anything.”

You hadn’t thought of it originally, but you’re tired and figure, why not reach out? He offered to help. Worst he can say is ‘no.’

He doesn’t say no. He says tell me what you need.

-----

What you need: help with the menu. Help with the seating arrangements. Help with the joint bachelor and bachelorette party.

For the menu, the two of you do a whirlwind tour of the local catering companies. Two of the three companies confuse you and Bob as the bride and groom, and you laugh to see Bob’s face turn bright red, the way he stammers to correct them.

“I apologize,” one woman tells you. “You make a really cute couple.”

Afterwards, pleasantly stuffed from peach and goat cheese crostini and tri-tip, you reach across the driver’s seat to where Bob sits to your right. You poke him lightly on his still-flushed cheek, call him really cute…which makes his face burn even hotter.

For the seating arrangements, he spends an evening at your apartment in Monterey. You split a pizza and a six-pack, and you pore over the massive guest list. You list out the people who can’t sit together—old family grudges, friendly rivalries—and you get a rough chart pulled together for Hannah’s inspection.

For the joint party—by then, you and Bob work like a well-oiled machine. You book hotel rooms in Vegas. You book tickets to shows, reservations to restaurants. You book dance lessons, since Hannah insists that everyone in the wedding party learn how to not stumble around the dance floor for the first dances. You send out itineraries, details. You collect money.

When it’s done, you sit back on your couch and heave a sigh of relief. Your head lolls back, and you turn to look at Bob.

“Team Prime strikes again,” he says with a soft smile, and you hold up a hand for a high five. It’s an inside joke between the two of you, a dumb joke about how you’re the first bridesmaid and he’s the first groomsman, the best of the best, the chosen-above-all-others. The Primes.

“Hell yeah we did,” you reply with an answering smile, and that’s when you first feel it: the pleasant little dip in your stomach at the sight of his smile, his blue eyes. The first little tremor of infatuation. Of burgeoning love.

-----

Two months pass, and after the initial press of planning, things stabilize. With Bob Floyd’s help, the wedding plans firm up, and you can breathe.

You stay in touch. You trade daily texts, checking in on each other. Sharing funny memes. Talking about movies you’ve seen, books you’ve read. Joking on the side about the main wedding party group chat.

Then the bachelor and bachelorette party in Vegas in upon you. You text Bob about your fear of flying.

Reassure me that it’s safe, you plead via text. Tell me I’m safer flying than driving.

You’re safer flying than driving.

You snort. Funny, you type back.

He doesn’t text anything in reply. Instead, he calls you.

Bob Floyd, graduate of Top Gun, walks you through the physics of flight. His soft voice, his slight drawl that comes out when he’s comfortable….he soothes you with his matter-of-fact discussion of lift and thrust, of yaw and roll. He tells you that planes are stringently designed to be safe, maintained for safety. That pilots train rigorously while any dumbass can fumble their way into a driver’s license.

He talks to you for an hour. He doesn’t quite talk you out of your fear; he doesn’t slay that dragon entirely, but he makes it smaller. Less scary.

“We’re on the same flight out tomorrow,” he points out. “We can try to switch seats and sit together.”

That first little dip in your stomach was nothing compared to the roiling now. It’s such a damned cliché, yet here you are: the maid of honor falling for the best man. Like a stupid Hallmark movie, yet you can’t stop the wide grin from splitting your face.

The next morning, you are able to switch seats after all, and for the entire short flight to Vegas, Bob holds your clammy hand in his, twists himself in his seat so that he can talk to you, low and soft, explaining each bump and lurch of the plane, making them seem like nothing scary at all.

-----

“You’re more sure on your feet than I would have expected,” you tease, and Bob gifts you a shy smile as he turns you gracefully across the dance floor.

“I guess I’m full of surprises.”

You hum in agreement, then look around the studio at the other coupled-off bridesmaids and groomsmen. After an hour-long lesson in ballroom dancing, few people other than you and Bob have grasped the steps of the easy waltz.

Two couples have given up altogether and are standing haplessly where they stopped on the dance floor. One couple is sorta doing their own thing, that awkward swaying shuffle that kids used to do at middle school dances.

Hannah and Eric are giving it an honest shot, but even from where you and Bob are, you can hear them bickering over who needs to lead, over which step is next. You glance at your own partner and see him watching them too. There’s a faint frown on his face.

“I think we’re the best dancers of the bunch,” he whispers, conspiratorial.

“I think you’re right,” you whisper back.

He turns his gaze back to you, and his returning smile makes his blue eyes crinkle at the corners. “Do you think if we show them up, they’ll kick us out of the wedding party?” he jokes.

“Oh, please,” you groan. “If there’s even a chance, I say we go for it. I’m so damned tired of earnest, late-night discussions about freesias and cake toppers.”

He laughs, and he squeezes your hand lightly as he turns you, an advanced move the instructor showed you earlier. “It can’t be that bad.”

You settle back into his hold and look at him. He’s been the most surprising part of the entire miserable wedding planning, this buddy of the groom that you’ve been paired with. Not a typical military guy at all. Bob is too sweet, too kind, too polite to be a complete dork…but even if he was, you’d still like him. He’s an easy guy to like. An easy guy to fall for.

“Nah,” you reply. “It’s not that bad at all.”

-----

The first day in Vegas is dance lessons and a nice dinner. The second day is a helicopter tour, which you politely skip, and then dinner and then dancing at a club. You and Bob had managed to book a VIP space, and you both volunteered to stay sober to help wrangle the drunks at the end of the night.

So for the first day and much of the second, you remain ignorant. You lean into all the feelings of your growing infatuation, but it doesn’t feel like your usual harmless crush. You like Bob Floyd. You really like him. There’s not a single ounce of artifice to him—he is genuinely just himself. Smart. Driven, in a quiet, steady way. Kind and funny. Despite his outwardly nerdy appearance, he seems fairly comfortable with who he is. He possesses a quiet confidence that you’ve never noticed in a man before.

You’ve dated in the past. You even had a semi-serious boyfriend, dated him for three years and talked vaguely of getting engaged, getting married. But nothing ever came of it; neither of you felt that elusive tug on the heartstrings that the other person was the one. So you broke it off amicably, and a month later, he met his would-be wife.

You remain single, and it rarely bothers you. You’re alone but not lonely, and you like your own company. You have your sisters. You have your coworkers and friends.

But in meeting Bob Floyd, you start to see the possibilities of finding someone and building a life with them…as long as that someone is…well…Bob Floyd.

For the first day and much of the second, you lean into the burgeoning fantasy. You play out how the wedding day will be. The reception. You wonder if Hannah will aim her bouquet toss at you, and if Eric will aim the garter at Bob. You wonder if there will be a moment on the dance floor, or maybe somewhere quieter. If Bob doesn’t make a move, you decide, you will.

The night at the club starts out great. The VIP area is elevated and set apart, so you can watch the dance floor but still have space to yourself. The champagne flows, then everyone switches to liquor. You and Bob are like hovering parents, easing glasses of water into people’s hands, checking in with them to make sure they are still coherent, cognizant.

It’s so damned easy to fall into the fantasy for these last few moments. There’s a sort of fraternity among the sober people in the club or bar: the clear, alert eyes that find each other. The knowing head nod, the little shrugs as if to say, “what can you do?” as you corral and tend to your drunken charges.

You and Bob—you catch each other’s eyes as you get a fresh pitcher of water. You smile at each other in the dim club lights. He rolls his eyes once, elaborate, and you laugh.

And when he wants to talk to you, he stands close, dips his head. Puts his mouth right near your ear so he doesn’t have to shout over the bassline, and that sets a low, licking flame of desire deep in your core, his warm breath fanning over you as he gently makes fun of your sisters, the other groomsmen. You wonder what he would do if you kissed him, if you took his hand after everyone was tucked in their beds and drew him into your room. Maybe you could kiss him, you think, you could press even a soft kiss to his cheek and see how he reacts. Maybe you could—

“I told Eric I don’t want any of this,” Bob says. You turn and look at him, and he gestures broadly with his hand. At the bridal party, half-debauched and fully drunk. At the wider space of the dark, loud club.

“Sorry?”

He dips his head near your ear again. “I said, I already told Eric I don’t want a big production.”

“For what?” you ask, but you already know—your body already knows, even if your brain hasn’t quite caught up. The flickering heat of your nascent arousal is doused, and your stomach flips like you might throw up.

“For my bachelor’s party. I just want a beer and poker night. Nothing wild. My fiancée would kill me anyway, but laid-back is more my scene.”

“For your…” you start to say, and then your brain catches up. “Oh. Oh.”

And then sweet, unassuming Bob Floyd tells you all about her: the high school sweetheart, the long-distance fiancée who is finishing up grad school. The woman finally ready to set a date and make it official-official after all these years.

The woman who will be Bob Floyd’s wife someday soon.

“Congratulations,” you manage to say, and you manage to make it sound convincing, and then you manage to make it to the restroom where you clutch the edge of the sink in a white-knuckle grip. You manage to take deep, gulping breaths as you choke down your sudden, bitter disappointment.

-----

Bob, Eric, most of the bridal party…they don’t really know you, so it’s easy to mask how you’re feeling.

Your sisters? Hannah? They recognize your poor acting performance from the start.

They must have conferred together, and they must have elected Hannah as their spokeswoman because on the second to last morning, she comes to your room, links her arm through yours, and says, “let’s grab breakfast, just you and me.” Her voice has that artificial cheeriness to it, so you guess what’s up.

“I’m not hungry.” You tug your arm from hers, turn away from her. You walk over to the window and peek out around the curtains to see the sun about to rise, the sky a pink wash of color.

“Bullshit. You’re always hungry.” Hannah follows you into the room, and at the window, she wraps an arm around your waist, hugs you from behind. A few inches taller than you, she hooks her chin on your shoulder and gazes out the window too.

“My stomach is off,” you lie. “I think I ate a bad oyster at that buffet.”

She hums, doesn’t reply for a long moment. The two of you watch the sun break the line of the horizon, washing the cityscape in a bright yellow light.

“You know you can always talk to me, right?” Hannah asks. “I know I’ve been a lot the past few months, but I’m always here for you. Always.”

You swallow thickly against the lump in your throat. “I know.”

“You like him, don’t you?”

You don’t bother to deny it. You nod.

“You love him?”

You shrug, jostle her where she’s perched on your shoulder. “I thought I did.”

Another hum, another beat of silence. “Probably wouldn’t hurt so bad if you didn’t love him.”

“What makes you think I’m hurting?”

“You’re my little sister. I know when you’re in pain.”

You huff out a quiet breath, a near-laugh. “When did you get so damned wise?”

She chuckles, squeezes her arms comfortingly around your waist. “I was born wise.”

You sigh, lean your head against hers. “That makes one of us.”

Hannah squeezes you again, then lays a smacking kiss on your cheek before releasing you. “C’mon,” she says. “Seriously, let me take you out for breakfast. Everything seems easier on a full stomach.”

“Hannah—”

She’s a few inches taller than you, and she’s much stronger. She man-handles you away from the window, turns you around to face her.

“I’m the bride-to-be. You can’t tell me no,” she teases, but then her expression turns serious as she studies you closer.

“You know there’s someone out there just waiting for you,” she adds, somber, and she gazes at you so earnestly that tears prickle in your eyes, and before you can stop yourself, you start to cry.

-----

It’s dumb, you decide. A dumb crush.

You’ve known the man a handful of months. He was helpful, and you were stressed, so maybe the help seemed outsized. Bob Floyd is just a regular guy, you decide, and you got wrapped up in his orbit because he seemed nice and kind and helpful and funny. Which he is all of those things, but to fall in love over it?

Dumb. Dumb, dumb, dumb.

You make the decision over breakfast with Hannah. Your wise older sister. She’s right, you think: life seems a little less unbearable when your stomach is full of eggs benedict and mimosa.

The rest of the day is sightseeing before another group dinner that evening. It’s your last day and night in Vegas; you fly out in the morning. You and Bob are on the same flight home, and you think—you honestly think—that you can get through it.

It’s just a crush. It will die off soon enough.

But over the course of the day, once the group has reconvened, Bob sticks close to you. He’s always right there. He’s in your line of sight, or right at your shoulder, close enough that you can hear his quiet breathing, or when he chuckles under his breath. Close enough to smell the cleanly masculine scent of him.

You aren’t sure why he never mentioned being engaged before. You suppose it never came up naturally, even though the two of you did the bulk of the wedding planning together. There were a hundred opportunities, you guess, for him to say, “oh, I’ll have to keep this in mind for my own wedding” or “I should tell my fiancée about this.”

Over the course of the day, and now that the fact of his own engagement is out, Bob chats with you about it. You get the entire fucking story. High school sweethearts who broke up briefly when they went to college in separate states. How they reconnected over summer vacation their sophomore year. How they’ve been together ever since.

How Bob proposed once and was rejected. “It was too soon,” he tells you with a rueful shake of his head, and you bite your tongue to stop yourself from pointing out that when he proposed, the two of them had been dating for years.

How Bob joined the Navy. How he kept his budget tight to save up for a better ring. How his fiancée—Jessica, her name is—finally said yes.

And now, he tells you how the engagement has stretched on and on, so much so that his parents stopped teasing him and started asking when the hell he and Jessica are going to finish the thing.

“Eric and Hannah,” he says, jerking his chin in their direction. “They were the kick in the ass we needed. Once they got engaged, we finally set a date.”

“Yeah?” Your voice comes out a rough croak, and you’re grateful for the huge sunglasses hiding your eyes from him.

“Next June. A little more than a year from now.”

You force a smile. “That sounds lovely.”

Bob nods, then grins at you. “All this planning, it was good practice for me. Now I know what to look for in a caterer and a linen-rental company.”

“I’m glad.” You try to keep your voice light, conversational, but something in your tone must clue him in that something is off. His grin fades, and he peers at you closer through his thick glasses, his blue eyes swimming behind the lenses.

“Everything okay? You seem…off.”

You force the smile back on your face, and you swallow back the shakiness in your voice. Of course Bob would notice that you aren’t yourself. Any other guy wouldn’t even register your more taciturn nature over the past few days, but Bob seems to miss very little, and he’s kind enough to care, to ask after you.

“Just tired. I never sleep well in a hotel room.”

He peers at you a moment longer, then nods, but his expression looks doubtful. “You should head back to the room early and rest,” he advises.

It’s a good idea. It would get you away from him, at least. You nod, and then you go to find Hannah, tell her you’re dipping out early and will meet back up for dinner.

-----

It’s the final dinner when you finally snap. You reach the end of your ability to sit and smile and nod your head, and your earlier bravado melts away.

Of course Bob sits beside you. Of course Hannah and Eric are the picture of true, enduring love. Of course you’re feeling sorry for yourself, positively maudlin, and then Bob—between bites of steak—tells you that Jessica can make it to the wedding after all, and not to worry because Hannah was able to find space for her at the reception.

“No need to redo those seating charts,” he chuckles, and then he tells you how excited he is for you to meet Jessica, how much he’s told her about the wedding planning, how much he’s learned, how much he can’t wait to get started on his own wedding planning.

It’s too much. Too much to take. You nod weakly at him, push your own meal around your plate with the tines of your fork. You keep your head bent, and you miss the looks people start to shoot at each other as they finally notice that the usually-chatty, usually-chipper maid of honor has gone sullen and silent.

It’s Hannah who gets up, makes a show of saying she needs to use the restroom. When you lift your head to look at her, she makes a “come along” gesture, and you stand up and follow her.

In the bathroom, she cups your face and stares at you, frowns.

“You look like shit,” she declares after a beat. “Seriously, are you okay?”

“’m fine,” you lie.

“I know you’re not. Why don’t we get out of here, huh? Get some air?”

You shake your head. “It’s the last night here. Please don’t…don’t let me ruin it.”

She laughs, then smushes your cheeks together. “You couldn’t ruin it if you tried. C’mon…you did all the shit-work for me, planning this wedding. The least I can do is get you out of here.”

You shake your head again, more emphatic. “No. Why don’t I just go? You can make up an excuse that I’m not feeling well.” You bite your lip, swallow hard against the lump in your throat. “I just can’t be around him anymore right now. I just need space to get my head right.”

“Oof, you got it bad,” she says with a sympathetic cluck of her tongue, but then she nods. “Why don’t I go grab your purse, and then I’ll make something up.”

You offer her a shaky smile. “Thank you.”

She nods again, then kisses your forehead, more motherly than sisterly. Hannah always had a maternal streak to her as the eldest sister, always was the first to tend to you and your sisters’ scraped knees and bruised hearts. She’ll be the family’s matriarch someday, you realize: the person who will hold you all together, who will gather you up for holidays and celebrations and moments of grief long after your parents are gone.

“A little distance from Bob Floyd will cure what ails you,” she jokes, and you have to agree. Tomorrow you’re supposed to fly out with Bob, and the thought of his hand in yours, his reassuring voice right by your ear…you can’t do it. You’ll snap and say something you won’t be able to take back.

That evening, in the hotel room, you call the airline and cancel your ticket. You book a rental car instead.

-----

You don’t see Bob Floyd again. The two of you are supposed to meet in the lobby the next morning to share a ride to the airport, but you wake up earlier and leave alone, bound for the rental car part of the airport.

Decided to drive back, you text Bob. Enjoy your flight and thanks for all your help!

He doesn’t text you back. He calls.

“Is everything okay?” he asks, and for the first time since you’ve met him, his voice is deeper, edged in real concern. “You’re driving back to California? It’s eight hours or more.”

“I just wanted to clear my head.” It’s not a lie, and the reason falls easily from your lips.

“But you’ve not been sleeping well, and you were sick last night,” he points out. “Should you even be driving? Flying is safer anyway, and it’s only a two hour flight—”

You cut him off gently. You tell him that you’ve already cancelled your ticket, that an eight-hour drive is nothing. That you want a little alone time to think. That a road trip through the desert with the music blasting is sometimes just the cure for what ails.

“I promise I’m okay to drive.” You’re touched by his concern, and you realize that your bravado was false, that it isn’t just a dumb crush. Bob Floyd is a genuinely good man. Of course you fell for him.

And if it isn’t just a dumb crush, then the only way to handle it is to endure it. There’s no cure but time.

“Well, let me know when you make it home,” he finally concedes. “Team Prime looks out for its own.”

You smile in spite of your crushing self-pity. “Team Prime. I’ll text you when I’m back.”

You end the call, and you situate yourself in your rental car. Challenging situations always make you want to flee, but you were right too: a road trip is a good time to think, to turn over your muddle thoughts and sort them out. To clear the head, ease the heart.

You pull out into the Nevada sunshine and turn towards home: the sun rising at your back in the east, and maybe the possibility of finding love, as Hannah said, to the west.

*****

Bob frowns when you cut that call, and for the entire plane ride home (the seat beside him still empty; there were no standbys), he mulls it over.

You had been so gregarious, so funny and sweet in the months since he’s met you. Despite the overwhelming pressure of the wedding planning, you were level-headed. Managed to joke about it all. When he stepped in to help, you thanked him profusely, called him a life-saver, called him your hero.

It was easy to let it get to his head, a little. People rarely noticed Lieutenant Robert Floyd, and it made him feel good to be seen by such a sweetly cheerful woman.

Something happened in Vegas, and he couldn’t put his finger on it. It’s like a switch was thrown. The chipper demeanor disappeared, but it wasn’t like you were sullen or angry. You seemed pained, almost, on the verge of tears a few times that he noticed. You tried to pretend you were okay, and that made it sadder, more perplexing. Whatever you were going through, you were trying to power through it, hide it.

He tried to draw you out by talking about his own impending wedding, talking about Jessica…but after a while, something about that line of conversation made his stomach dip and twist unpleasantly.

He had been looking forward to the flight home. That got to his head too, the way you clung to his hand the entire flight to Vegas, the way you needed him to get through it. The shaky exhale you gave when the plane finally touched down. The shaky, embarrassed laugh, then the half-hug in your seats, the two of you twisted towards each other, as you wrapped your arm around his shoulders and thanked him profusely.

He likes being needed, he finds. Not in an extreme way, or an unhealthy codependent way. He just likes being needed by someone once in a while, for little things like that—sketching out a seating chart, being a bulwark against a fear of flying. Jessica never seems to need him, and it—

Bob pushes the thought out of his head. He won’t compare the two of you. He won’t.

The entire flight home, he mulls you over. The drive back to base too. He calls Jessica to hear her voice and he gives her the abridged version of the Vegas trip. He runs errands: restocks his refrigerator, does laundry, presses his uniform shirts and pants. He goes for a jog, then hits the gym on base, lifts until his arms burn.

He goes home and showers, and then he settles in front of the TV. He dozes off and wakes in the middle of the night with a start, his heart hammering in his chest and the taste of pennies in his mouth.

He has no idea what’s wrong until he checks his phone, notes the time…and notes that you haven’t called or texted.

Bob scrubs his face with his hands. He makes his way to the bathroom, splashes himself with water. He studies his own reflection, and even with his glasses off, he can see the worry writ all over his expression.

Maybe she got tired and pulled off for the night, he thinks. Or maybe she just forgot to let me know she’s home.

That’s what he imagines when he moves to his bed and tries to fall back asleep—he imagines you home in your own apartment, the cozy little space that is so perfectly you. He imagines you returning the rental car, showering off the road dust, then turning in for a long, well-earned sleep.

When he finally drifts off, his dreams are unsettling, and he wakes early, coated in a thin sheen of sweat despite the AC running at top capacity.

“Something’s wrong,” he mutters aloud to the empty bedroom. He can feel it in his gut. Something is off, and just as he makes up his mind to call you, to check in on you, even if it’s rude and even if he wakes you up, his phone lights up with an incoming call.

From Eric.

Eric, his best friend, his oldest friend. Eric, who rarely calls and who prefers to text. Eric, who only calls—especially at four-thirty in the morning—when there’s bad news.

Eric, the most unflappable man that Bob has ever known, openly, obviously trying to hide the tears in his voice. In the background, Bob can hear a woman crying—Hannah—as Eric relays the news: the only other member of Team Prime, the best of the best like him, was struck in a head-on collision by a speeding driver.

That you were life-flighted to the nearest trauma center, but that the prospects for your survival are so bleak that the attending surgeon told your father over the phone to not entertain much hope. That the doctor asked if you had a religion, if there was perhaps a priest or pastor or rabbi…someone who might come and offer final blessing, last rites, whatever.

“We’re trying to get everyone here,” Eric says. “Dude, what do I…I mean, what can I even do? If a doctor says…fuck, Bob, I don’t know what to do—”

Bob says the only thing he can think of, an echo of what he texted to you all those months ago.

“Tell me what you need,” he says, and he keeps his voice level despite the emotion—shock, sorrow, burgeoning guilt—coursing through him like electricity. “Tell me what you need and I’ll do it.”

#bob floyd #bob floyd x reader #bob floyd imagine #robert floyd #robert floyd x reader #robert floyd imagine #top gun maverick #tropes and tales

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luvliewriting · 2 years

Text

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Imagine: Their favourite place to kiss you

Warnings: just fluff, maybe some body issues with Javier, a little suggestive on Dutch

Notes: I'm willing to turn any of these concepts into actual fics if requested

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Arthur Morgan - Palm

Hard to explain but I think he would be a palm kisser; like just grabs your hand to flip it over with your palm up, place a kiss to it and then either hold it in his own hand or to his cheek. I mean he already loves your hands compared to his his, getting to kiss it or just feel your palm against his cheek makes him do flips even though you rarely see that giddy in love bastard side of him often. One of his favourite things if helping you down from your horse because he'll ask for your hand, flip it over and kiss it, then help you down. If he can hold your hand, know full well your palm will be getting kissed regardless of what is happening or who is around.

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Dutch Van Der Linde - Neck

This man loves being in control, you can't deny that, so that's probably why he likes to kiss your neck. I mean he just loves kissing you in general but your neck just hits different. Maybe because it makes you all squirmy to him and puts him in 100% control when he kisses the parts of your neck that he knows you're most needy. He'll even do it in front of the entire camp just to show how much he loves you and is unashamed of you.

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Hosea Matthews - Back Of Hand

A true sweet gentleman at heart. In his younger more rebellious years, I would say probably neck as well but as he's become sweeter with age, he likes to take his time with you. He likes to warm your heart with small actions, like kissing the back of your hand. If you're dancing together he'll do it, if you're just laying in your cot together he'll do it, if he has the chance to be a sweet gentleman than he will. Mainly because he likes to watch your cheeks flush red when he does and watch you get all bashful and cute.

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John Marston - Ear

Unlike Hosea, he doesn't do that good of a job being a gentleman. When you two are alone in your tent sure, he'll do his best to woo you but outside the tent, he's not much for PDA. One thing he won't turn down though is kissing and nipping your ear. Probably because he likes to whisper in your ear a lot, specifically in front of people because he'll just bite and kiss the soft curve of your ear then act like nothing happened. But when you two are alone in your tent and he's trying to wake uou up, he'll tug your ear between his teeth and tug on it till you wake up. Before you can stay bad at him long though, he'll switch from biting to kissing till you forgive him.

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Abigail Marston - Nose

Not much time to spare when raising Jack but when she does have time alone with you, she's a little touch starved. She likes to sit in your lap and play with your hair, leaning to you every so often to leave little kisses on your nose. If you want to kiss her nose as well, it turns into a little moment of you two just leaning into each other to kiss the other's nose.

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Charles Smith - Lips

He's an old-fashioned lover boy who absolutely loves it when you tug on his hair while you two are kissing. Alone in your cot, it can go close to hours of you two wrapped in each other's arms and pressing your lips together. Outside of your tent, he'll find any excuse to kiss you. On wagon rides, he'll give little chaste kisses. If you're riding his horse with him, you always ride in front of him just so when it isn't busy terraine, he can leave a quick kiss to your lips and go back to directing the horse

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Javier Escuella - Stomach

This man absolutely adores you, no like really, he blesses the ground you walk on. You learned some spanish sayings because of him, mainly in your tent. Javier doesn't understand quite how you can't see yourself the way he sees you so if he sees you having problems with yourself or your appearance, his first thought is to change your mind. While in public he prefers a simple kiss on your cheek, when you're alone he just loves to kiss your body, mainly your stomach. He just wants you to know how much he loves you and think how beautiful/handsome you are to him.

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Oh boy it feels good to be back!

But thank you for reading and don't forget to like and hopefully reblog as it really does help me out in the long run

Taglist:

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legitalicat · 3 months

Text

Out of Time

Chapter 3 - "Dinner and Dessert"

AN: Chapter 3 my loves! I hope you enjoy this one :) Also I'm sorry if this is bad I've only ever written smut like 2x before this. If you're looking for better smut, I always always always recommend @lovelykhaleesiii

If you love this header go check out zaldritzosrose for more amazing work! She is tagged on the series masterlist and on my welcome post!

If anyone is interested in me starting a tag list, please feel free to let me know!!

Find the series Master list here!

Summary: As the day comes to a close, she can only think of what has happened. With having less than a full day to understand the situation, her thoughts are all consuming. Her beloved twin, Jacaerys, shows he has only ever cared for her.

18+ every one

TW: SMUT SMUT SMUT!!!! P in V, Targcest (is it Targcest if their last names are Velaryon?), profanity, dirty talk, unprotected sex (please practice safe sex guys), Jace has a monster in his pants, Jace being kinda dom

Pairings: Jacaerys Velaryon x twin!Reader, mentions of Aemond Targaryen x Reader, mentions of Alys Rivers x Aemond Targaryen

Word count: 3.6 k

Aemond had accompanied me to the Dragon Pit, as was my original intention. And it was time well spent in all honesty. He spoke to me about the time that I was gone. Just as Mother said, he had gone around the entire realm to attempt to find me. Apparently, he had spent a long time in Harrenhal, the seat of my blood father’s family.

What I hadn’t expected, though, was him telling me of this woman he had met there named Alys Rivers. According to him he had grown fond of her and even attempted to be with her. He claimed it was to try to get over me, as all logic pointed to me being dead. I stopped listening.

When I was back in my chambers, with nothing to do but think as I waited for dinner, I could only sit in the window seat overlooking Blackwater Bay. My finding didn’t make sense to me.

If I were taken by pirates like seemed to be a popular theory, why was I not in Essos? I would probably fetch a fair price if they sold me into slavery. Or why had they not demanded ransom? As a princess of the realm, my identity was not a secret, even if I didn’t have the signature Targaryen hair. I had done as much as possible to help the citizens of King’s Landing. I had done a tour of the Seven Kingdoms to meet with several Lords and their sons to consider for marriage. There was not a time in which I was ever hidden away.

“Your brain is going to break if you continue to think so hard,” Jace said from beside me. My gaze snapped to him, trying to steady my heart from the shock. “It is just me, issa dāria.”

“Must you sneak in here like that?” I scolded him yet I was certain the only thing stern about me was my tone. I was too happy to see him to control the smile that crept onto my face.

He was carrying a tray with two plates piled high with food and two cups. He set it on a nearby table before coming back to stand by my side.

“I wanted to have time with you. We have not seen each other since the afternoon,” he explained to me.

He gave me a soft smile. Everything about him was soft. His hair laid in loose curls that bounced with every motion. His lips were plump, eyes round and a deep brown, and even his sharp jawline was offset by full cheeks. Hell, even down to what he wore was soft. A loose fitting, long sleeved white linen shirt with strings crossing over the space between his collarbones tucked into the waistband of his brown cotton pants. Unlike most, he didn’t often wear shoes around the castle unless he had to go before the council or maybe a formal dinner.

No matter how much I loved Aemond, Jace was a part of me. I loved him in nearly every way a person could. He and I were two pieces of the same soul. We could spend all day together and never need a break. He listened to me rant about every subject I ever read about, learned High Valyrian for me. He was good and kind and sweet.

“And the food?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I thought perhaps dinner with all of us at once may prove to be too much tonight, so you and I could eat in here. I’ve already spoken to Mother and told her,” he said.

I chuckled and stood from my seat. Without any hesitation, he took my hand in one of his hands and pulled me closer by my waist with the other. Standing here, chest to chest with him, the world felt quiet.

“How are you feeling?” he asked quietly. He was sure not to hold me too tightly.

“Physically I hurt,” I whispered. It was best if I were honest with him. “Otherwise, I’m just confused. None of it makes sense. And to think of missing five years with you causes an unbearable ache in my chest.”

He pressed his lips to my forehead. It was how he comforted me when he had no idea what to say. Always handling me with great care like it was his life’s mission. There was no amount of affection too small to him.

He said nothing else before helping me into a chair at the table. The silence felt nice if I were honest. With him, I didn’t feel like I had missed anything.

“Luke is happy you’re back,” he told me after he had sat down. “So is Joffrey. They missed you greatly.”

“I cannot wait to see them. As well as Little Aegon and Viserys. They all have grown so much,” I responded, tears welling up in my eyes.

My plate had a venison roast with potatoes and carrots. A simple meal but one of my favorites. Dragonstone had the largest deer I had seen which was an impressive feat considering how many dragons roamed free on the island. But with such an abundance of the meat, we had it frequently when we lived there.

“I love you,” he said. He spoke it in such a way nobody could question his sincerity. He had always been honest to a fault.

“I love you,” I said before taking a bite of food. It was perfect and heavenly.

“So then why did you go to Aemond? Why spend the afternoon without me?” His voice was pained and his lip quivered a little.

Did he not know that it was not that way? It wasn’t like I chose Aemond over Jacaerys. He had merely been the one to come to my room.

“My moon, I had been on my way to see Vhaela and he approached me. I did not go seek him out,” I nearly pleaded with him. I reached across the table to take his hand in mine and squeeze it.

“I am not oblivious to the fact you were with him in the year you spent here with grandsire. But you and I are meant to be husband and wife. Formally so, now,” he whispered. His eyes moved to look at his plate.

My heart ached at the thought of hurting him. He was everything to me. My best friend, the moon and stars in my night sky, my fire on a cold night. When I spoke of him being my other half, it was not an exaggeration. Without him there was no me.

Even so, I could not pretend that everything was fine and as it was before I woke on the beach. While I had been stuck in place, everyone around me continued to grow and thrive and change. Pretending they hadn’t was like ignoring the rain as it washes away the earth. I would be fine as long as it was raining and I could use the water to maneuver. But once the flood subsided, I would be stranded without knowing where I was.

“But should we be? It has been five years, Jacaerys. Hell, I wasn’t even with you for a year before I disappeared. What if the person you are now does not love the person I am?”

“I could give you everything you could ever wish for when I am King. I will give you every child your heart could desire, I will love you until my final breath. Why is that not enough?” he asked before looking back up at me. The way he said it made me question if he was more hurt or angry. “Or is this back to the ridiculous notion that since Aegon the Conqueror had two wives you could have two husbands?”

“I wish to know where my heart truly lies. I wish to know if I marry you it is purely for love and not anything to do with duty. Why can you not give me that?”

He was silent for a moment longer than I would have liked. Was it truly an unreasonable request? All I ever wanted was a life of love. I knew Jace would love me for as long as we lived, and I would love him. But if it weren’t an equal love, if it were a love that was weighed down by a sense of duty, where was the honor in that? How could I subject both of us to that?

“So you wish to replace me?” he asked me. He yanked his hand away from me as he pushed up from the table. “I can only assume with Aemond.”

“I am not replacing you!” I said firmly. “You are my twin, my other half, there is no replacing you.”

I quickly stood up too, trying to be on his level, to prove I was on his side. But it was too quickly and I cried out in pain. The Maesters figured it had only been a month at most since they were cracked. As such, they warned me of the potential for severe pain, making it difficult to move or breathe without risking it. At first I thought they were full of shit, but with my ribs feeling like they’re on fire and my breathing causing agonizing pain, I realized I had just been stubborn.

No matter his anger, he rushed to close the distance between us and hold me steady. Even when he was angry or hurt, it was never enough to take over his compassion. Jace truly was too good for this world.

I couldn’t help but nuzzle him as he held me. Never was it my intention to hurt him. I just didn’t want to rob something from him that he above all people deserved. A happy, love filled life.

“How could you do this to me?” he whispered while holding me close. “I have lived without you for over six years. I alone waited for you.”

“It is not something I’ve done to you, Jace,” I insisted. “I do not wish to exclude you. I just want to explore my heart.”

He sighed softly and set me back down in my chair. Kneeling in front of me, he pushed my hair back from my face. I loved him so much. I could only hope he still understood that.

“I have dreamt of you every night since you left my side,” he whispered. “Even so, I cannot make you unhappy. If you are sure, then I will not object. But do not make me stay away from you.”

It was never easy to stay away from him. The first time I ever tried to was when I became aware of how desperately I wanted to cross the lines of what was proper. Being around him had been overwhelming, so I elected to just stay away. But eventually he became frustrated with me and came to my room in the middle of the night to demand answers. That was the night he took my maidenhead. To this day I wouldn’t change a thing about it.

“Then you cannot ask me to stay away from him. I want this to be true and fair, issa dārys,” I whispered to him.

He said nothing, instead moving forward and pushing his lips to mine. His movements were cautious as to avoid causing me more pain in my busted lip, but I could feel a hunger behind it. All thoughts but him left me.

Jace pulled away far too soon, standing from his position in front of me. Within a moment he had me in his arms, holding me off the floor. I couldn’t help but giggle wildly at this. The sound made him smile and then he carried me to my bed.

In truth, for the longest time this was our bed. No matter how often our parents tried, we always found our way back into the same bed. It is why the room is decorated equally in our favorite colors. Once we had painted the wall behind the bed to look like a sunset, mixing stunning oranges and purples that felt like home. Warm and wonderful just like Jace.

“I love you,” he whispered in my ear as he began desperately pulling at the laces along my back that held my dress to me.

“I love you,” I whispered, pulling at his shirt. He pulled back just enough to allow me to pull it over his head and toss it aside before he put his lips to my neck.

My dress fell from my shoulders and chest, leaving my breasts exposed to him. The way Jace stared with nothing short of an animalistic hunger made me whimper in pleasure. Within a matter of moments he was massaging the left one and attaching his lips to the right. He sucked little red marks into the flesh, so insignificant that they would disappear by the morning, but leaving a stinging sensation wherever he touched that reminded me this was real.

When he took my hardened nipple in between his lips, grazing it with his teeth, I gasped in pleasure. It had been far too long since I had felt his touch. He made sure I was aware of it, too. He sucked eagerly, never once stopping the massaging movements he made with his hand. Moans of his name fell from my lips as though he were the god I worshipped.

He pulled away from me with a loud pop. “Always been so perfect for me,” he whispered to me. “Made for me, weren’t you, issa dāria?”

I was rendered speechless as Jace pulled my dress from me completely, followed quickly by his pants. In his naked form he was everything a girl could ask for. His muscles were firm and well defined, biceps large enough so that I could not wrap a hand around them. Any baby fat on his stomach had melted into six individually defined muscles. Somehow there was no hair along his chest, but a small line of hair connected his navel to the curly brown hair at the base of his cock.

Every time I saw his cock, my jaw dropped slightly. He was easily ten inches in length and thick enough so that I could barely touch my thumb and middle finger together when holding it. It was monstrous in size but he was so loving and sweet it never caused excessive pain. His cock was hard, red at the tip with pre-cum beading on it. I glanced up to his face to find him blushing as I looked him over.

“Still so shy after all the nights we spent together?” I asked him quietly.

“You must remember that while it has not been so long for you, it has been damn near seven years for me. So shut up,” he said, blushing even more at my teasing. I couldn’t help but giggle.

“No passage of time could ever change the love I have for you, or how perfect I find you,” I whispered before taking one of his hands in mine.

He moved to hover over me, a knee on either side of my own, his cock resting against my thighs. His eyes were easy to follow as he dragged his gaze along my body, starting at my face and working his way down. Every cut or scar, no matter how small, earned a kiss against the skin. Taking extra care with the bruise on my ribs, he pressed small kisses along the edges of it where it did not cause any pain. The pure intimacy of it was enough to cause a heat to build as my pussy became increasingly wet.

Just as he was about to continue leaving kisses down the rest of my body, I reached down to grab his chin. The touch was enough to get him to connect his gaze with me.

“Love me, Jace,” I whispered, pleading with him. I couldn’t take the sweet torture that was his foreplay.

“You are not ready for me yet, love,” he said.

“I am plenty wet for you. The rest I do not care about,” I told him.

“I do not wish to cause you more pain,” he insisted, but I leaned up and kissed him, my eyes fluttering shut.

This time it was I who kissed him hungrily. Being like this with him, I felt like I had been starving and all that I wanted was right in front of me. My sweet twin, one who had always put me above anyone else. Even now when I can feel how needy he is as his cock leaked pre-cum onto my thigh, he needed to put me above him.

Carefully I slid down some, so that his cock was now resting on my hip. Reaching between us I grabbed it, giving a few lazy strokes. He groaned against my lips when I aligned the tip to my waiting cunt.

He pulled back just enough to separate our lips. My eyes opened quickly so that I could look at him. His eyes were soft, waiting for me to tell him to go.

I nodded ever so slightly. That was all he needed to push forward into me. Already he was moaning my name as he sunk inch after inch into me. It ached quite a lot after not having him inside me for so long. But still, I couldn’t ask him to stop. The ache was pleasurable and needed.

He got nearly three quarters of his cock inside me before he stilled. He was breathing heavily, obviously struggling with restraint but giving me time to adjust. I pressed kisses over every part of his face before laying back so that I could admire him. Jacaerys was a god among men, that I was certain of.

“I’m okay, love,” I whispered to him. One look in my eyes was all he needed to be sure.

He hooked my right leg behind my knee and pulled it to lay against his chest. A cry of both pleasure and pain came out of my lips at the way this caused him to reach further in me than he ever had. There was a small smirk on his face. The cheeky fucker knew exactly what he did.

Setting a near torturous pace, he pulled out of me slowly and pushed back in. The pain I felt was indistinguishable from pleasure. Every twitch and every throb of his cock, I could feel entirely. Then Jace pressed his thumb to my clit, rubbing in tandem with each movement of his hips. When his cock was buried inside me, he rubbed against it eagerly, like he was trying to make me cum right then and there. And then every time my body started tightening up and I began to see stars, he pulled out to just his tip and all but stopped touching my clit.

I glared at him the sixth time he did it while feeling my approaching orgasm back off. It made him chuckle as he bent down, pressing my knee to my shoulder, with only the tip of his cock nestled inside me.

“You feel so good, you know that, love?” he whispered to me. “Feels like your cunt was designed with my cock in mind. Bet I would fit perfectly if I went all the way to my balls, don’t you?” With widened eyes I nodded eagerly. “Have I fucked you stupid already, pretty girl?”

This was a side to him I hadn’t seen before. Normally he was whispering praises to me, thanking the gods for me, and I gave him the same. But it was not unwelcome. In fact, I could feel myself clench around him as a whine built up in my throat.

“That’s okay, baby, don’t need you to say anything. Can feel how much you love this,” he whispered before driving his hips forward.

I wrapped my left leg around his waist so that I could pull him closer into me. Each powerful thrust had me moaning out his name. The sounds of my moans and his heavy balls slapping against my ass was all that could be heard echoing around the room. A wave started building inside me, the intensity of it increasing while he stroked my clit again. This time he never let up.

“Cum around my cock, pretty girl,” he said to me. “Fuck, Y/N, so fucking tight. So perfect for me.” His breathing became more labored as he punctuated each word with a moan.

“Gods, Jace!” I cried out when the orgasmic wave crashed over me. He looked to where his cock sank into me. The evidence of my orgasm soaked his stomach, sliding down his skin and dripping onto the bed.

Jace’s thrusts became erratic as my cunt squeezed around him. Within seconds, he was crying out my name and his hips stuttered to a stop. I could feel every inch of his cock throb and twitch as his cum poured into me.

He was very careful as he pulled out. Both of us whined at the loss of contact, but his turned quickly into a moan when he saw a string of my juices mixed with his between his cock and my body. With a goofy little smile he laid beside me and pulled the blanket up over the both of us.

“You have had my heart for our entire lives,” he whispered to me. “I am not giving yours up without a fight.”

With one last kiss to my forehead, he held me close to him before we both went to sleep.

#dividers by benkeibear #jacaerys velaryon #jacaerys velaryon x reader #jacaerys velaryon x reader smut #smut #out of time

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