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highhhfiveee · 5 months

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please i need some dubcon mike schmidt ..,,, like he picks up drunk reader from a party n takes her home n fucks her throat ..,,, ‘you’re so easy to control when you’re all stupid like this’ ..,,, she’s got tears streaming down her face n she’s clawing at his thighs but he just holds her head in place n strokes her hair n tells her how good she’s making him feel ,,

okay okay okay. shiver me fuckin timbers lmaoooo. this is so brothersbestfriend!mike. switched it up a little but i hope you still enjoy! [had this set to post at 12 but tumblr failed me lmao]

sangria

tags: brothersbestfriend!mike, fem!reader, intimate touching, choking, wild dick sucking, deep throating, spitplay, degradation, dubcon (reader is plastered, and while she does consent to be taken advantage of, she is still under the influence); mike is such a protector and i'm starting to think that this is megasub!reader x protector!mike in addition to bbf! [let me know if i missed anything + this has been proofread but there’s always still a chance for mistakes lmao]

link to the original fic, mimosa, here 🍹, and the first part of the finale here, tequila sunrise, here 🍸

okay, so maybeeeeeee you two didn't actually get caught that day.

you’re panting in each other’s faces as you come, clean yourselves off, and exit the shed like your brother's best friend hadn't made you squirt all over the garden tools and pool supplies.

the feeling of mike's come pooling in your bikini bottoms makes you tingly all over again, and you're squirming while you both ease your way back into the fold of cookout attendees, diverting into separate paths so no one can catch onto your attachment; clandestine and kept between the eyes, lips, and bodies of you two only.

you'd wished mike nothing but hell while you were away at school, doing anything you could to get the thought of him out of your head. even though you'd been the one to catch feelings, you never wanted him to have any part of you ever again, restricting him from you.

you'd wanted him erased from the entire galaxy then, but from the cookout forward, nothing excited you more than the thought of being mike’s plaything. you snuck around with him more than you should've; giving him handjobs in the backseat of his car, letting him eat you out in your bedroom with the door open---risky things that made your heart pound with adrenaline and need, a rush to the very end.

you could only get that feeling with mike. it made you sick to your stomach with taboo butterflies, fantasizing about all the ways he could have you thrashing, eyes rolling back, toes curled until your feet cramped.

he'd hooked you on him once again, and this time, he'd decided to go with the flow. he wasn't pursuing anything with anyone else, and feelings had begun to bloom in him. nothing like love, he'd told himself (even though your flirty smile made his heart palpitate before making his dick hard), but like...safeguarding.

you were young, unversed with life, vulnerable; mike could see people taking advantage of you, mistaking your soft, impish act for total naivete. even though he'd hurt you himself, he'd never allow anyone else to treat you that way, or put you in a situation to harm you. there was this urge in him to keep you safe, keep you protected from the mean world that ate girls like you for breakfast.

mukrrrrrrrrrrrr

molwwwwwwwwww

gahdmn i cant tYpe LoL

exhibit a.

y/n are you drunk

….

………..

…………………………….

y/n

4 F R E E dwinks

downnnnnnnnn thw hATCH

pArTyz rool xp

mike's about to ask about your location when your picture floods his screen, phone vibrating in his hand with a call. he answers it with a displeased, "where are you?

"she’s at 8203 harrington circle," someone yells over loud, bass-riddled music and scattered conversations. mike hopes it's a friend of yours, and not a complete stranger. “she was fine, but i think that fourth drink tipped her over!"

mike's been putting on clothes and grabbing for his keys and wallet since your first text message, already sulking to his car as your friend finishes her statement. "stay with her and keep her upright, i'll be there in fifteen."

he can't get rid of the deep scowl etched on his face while he drives, both hands clasped tensely on his wheel at ten and two. he wants you to have fun, of course. he isn't going to tell you not to go to parties, or not to drink---you’re your own person, and he has no right to tell you what you could and couldn't do, but something about you utterly hammered around so many people you probably don't know makes his heart pound against his ribcage with agitation.

harrington circle was a street on a state school campus, one that you'd opted not to go to all that time ago. maybe you'd known some people there, but mike was sure you didn't know your way around, where to go if something went wrong...

he pulls up to a tall, red brick house smack dab in the middle of a cul-de-sac, immediately throwing his car in park and exiting when he sees two girls walking alongside a guy carrying you out the front doorway. he has his hands hooked under your armpits, pushing your boobs together and "covertly" staring at your amplified cleavage as he leads you down the short stone path.

your head lulls back a little, and you're smiling up at the sky with your eyes closed and your cheeks flushed to death. your legs drag under you, and mike's quick to grab for your waist, removing you from that perv's grasp with haste and a grimace.

you droop into him, body leaden with alcohol, and he slides one arm under the back of your knees, bending his own to lift you into a bridal style hold.

you squeal as he turns away from the house, throwing your arms around his neck and dreamily sighing at the way his hands feel carrying you, strong and vigilant and possessive. "mikeeeeeee," you mewl, pulling yourself into him so you can nudge at the column of his throat. your words are slurred almost beyond comprehension, and he commands one of the girls to open the passenger door so he can ease you inside.

he sets you down in the seat, or at least tries to, whispering, "let me go" when you keep your arms wrapped around him. the position has him hunched over, and it hurts his back so badly, but you whimper, "nooooo, want you close" while nearly making him trip and fall across you, splaying his entire body over yours. he smells so good, all warm and musky and mike, and you don’t want to separate from him.

"y/n, please. i wanna get you home," he reaches back to wrench your arms off of him, placing them in your lap and closing the door before you can complain. he walks around the front to the driver's side, monotonously thanking the girl who'd helped you as he grumpily enters the car.

he grabs for your seat belt, stretching it across your torso as he does his own and drives away from the annoyingly illuminated house and party commotion in silence.

you're so gone, but even drunk, it's unsettling to you how quiet mike is, keeping his eyes focused on the road without a hint of a glance or a word to you. his jaw is clenched deeply, and he's stiff as a board against his seat, so opposite from his usual sullen, suave nonchalance. you frown at him, fingering with your strappy, well-tied sandals. "hey, grumpy,"

"not grumpy," you huff at his tone, sour and unwavering, and wiggle your toes as you finally free them from the entrapment of footwear. "i'm fine."

"you've gotten very, very bad at lying," you demur. your head slacks again, but this time against your headrest. you ogle mike through the film in your eyes, digging your teeth into your bottom lip. "mad at me?"

mike writhes in his seat, his jaw muscles flexing at your coy lilt. you know how to manipulate him with your words, sweetening them in just a way that would have mike bending to your will. the way you're gazing at him with your big, unfocused eyes makes him makes him press down on the gas a bit harder.

"i'm not mad," he mutters, all pseudo-nonconfrontational and collected, but you know that he's not telling the truth. something about the circumstances bothers him, and you want to know why. the car comes to a stop at a red light, mike shaking his head as he scrunches his face and rubs his eye with a knuckle. "forget about it."

"i won't. don't like me having fun without you?" he doesn't answer, staring ahead at the empty streets around the two of you. it was so late, nearly 2 am, and it only fuels the exasperation he feels burning in his stomach. he doesn’t like you out here like this, without him to keep you out of harm’s way.

"is it the drinking?" you pout, frustrated with the way he's ignoring you. "i admit, maybe four drinks was overkill, but i feel sooooo good. my body feels like..." you make a subtle buzzing noise, similar to tv static, and cut it off with a giggle, reaching over for one of mike's hands while the light turns green.

you inch it towards your lap, dragging it across the skin of your thigh that skims the end of your skirt, mini and gold and matching with the white corset top you wore. "you should feel."

"y/n..."

"c'mon mike," you pout again, dipping his hand between your opened legs. you let out an astounded moan when his cold fingertips connect with your bare clit, and now he's scowling at the fact that you’re not wearing any panties. he thinks about how many people would keep note of that, combined with your docile, inebriated state, and see it as a way in. it’s clear, with how those drinks have you begging him to ease his fingers into you, caressing your tight, warm walls so he can add another check to "car" on the list of places he's made you squirt. “don't want you to be mad at me anymore."

"i'm not mad at you, y/n," he finally says, fingers still against your skin. you're soaking his seats, the excess of your slick dripping down to the cloth, and he has to pull himself out of thinking about someone else feeling you in this way. his eyes stay low on the road as he continues, "did you know anyone at that party?"

"mhm, like one person." mike sighs, a low grumble in his throat. he pulls his hand away from you, putting all of his attention on driving so he can get home. he just wants you inside, away from the world and in his charge. he doesn't say anything for a long while, eventually taking a deep breath and mumbling, "just want you safe, y/n. i'm glad you called me to come get you. there are bad people out there, and i don’t trust them in situations like this.”

"yeah," you purr, leaning against the center console and resting your head on the side of his seat. "you're my knight in shining armor, hmm? keeping me away from all the bad bad people looking to destroy messed up princesses like me?"

mike side eyes your tone, nearly scolding you for treating it like a joke and not something that could actually happen.

"...that's one way to put it, but seriously—-“

"wanna be destroyed though," you interrupt, unbuckling your seatbelt once he cuts the car off in the driveway. he’s turning to you, dark eyes gazing towards your pouted lips. you're reaching your hand across his lap, massaging it over the press of him in his sweatpants. “especially by you. wanna be your little fucktoy. let you use my messy holes however you want because they're yours."

your filthy mouth and shameless confession have mike turned on and hard and thinking about how you've called your holes his. he's seeing you bent over the couch, stuffed to the hilt with his fingers pressed against your tongue while he smirks down on you, veins coursing with lust. he squeezes at your hand, and says,

"let's get you inside, okay? then we can talk more about my messy fucking holes."

you're dizzy, giving him a big, woozy smile and letting all the craving you feel inside pour out through your glazed over eyes when he swoops you up again, carrying you and your shoes to his front door. your arms are back around his neck, and you're placing soft kisses on his lips, jaw, and chin as he drops your shoes by the entrance and carries you all the way to the couch, settling his body into one of the corners.

you're adjusting yourself on him so your bare mound drips over his thighs, and he's got his hands around your hips again, digging his fingers into your flesh as you mindlessly grind against him. you're still kissing against his lips, so uncoordinated and sloppy, and he pulls on the wispy strands at the nape of your neck, disconnecting you from him so he can leer at you with a look that tells you he will be destroying you tonight, guaranteed. "no panties was really bold of you, baby."

"can’t have panty lines in this skirt," you frown, placing your hands on mike's shoulders for leverage to move on him a bit harsher, eventually grazing them over his back and arms as you do. "not cute."

"but it's really not cute for you to have my holes on display for anyone to have, especially not when you're like this."

"mikey, please,” you coo, hunching down to press wet, suctioned kisses on mike's bare neck and rolling your hips into the weight of him. he feels so good against you, and you're aching, the alcohol sending shocks to your clit with every second of friction. "want you in me or something. no more talking, just use—-.”

"aht, don't rush me. trying to get you to understa---" one of your hands goes from roaming his shoulderblades to placing pressure around his throat, shocking him stiff against the back of the couch.

he doesn't think anyone has ever choked him before, and while his eyes burn at you with frenzied astonishment, you're causing him to have a revelation. his dick pulses against the material of his sweatpants at the feeling of your dainty hand squeezing his throat, and he's reaching to grab your wrist and bring your hand down before he comes all quick like he’s 18 again. you stop him with your other hand, coming in close to his face.

there's such a ferocity in your stare, and he knows that you're not going to let him lecture you all night. you need him to fuck you, need him to do something with you and your drunken arousal.

"are you really gonna keep talking, or would you rather just fuck my throat?" you slide your arms down his back, lips placed by his ear as you whisper, "show me how depraved people really can be when i'm like this."

he knows it's sick, but it doesn't take much past that for mike to have you on all fours beside him on the couch, back arched into a 45 degree angle as you drool all over his lap. you're begging for it, whining about how good he feels in your mouth, and he doesn't want to miss an opportunity to give you something you want, even though you're in this state. he's glad that it's him using you in this scenario, and not someone genuinely looking to hurt you. it's his rationale for giving in to your immoral desires.

you pull away from your mess with a sharp inhale, your jaw trembling as you sit up and give mike an eager, spit-slick smile. your eyes are even more distant than before, and it's almost like you’ve checked out. mike can see all the brashness and attitude you give him on the regular is gone, currently replaced with servitude and the intent to please, nothing less.

"wanna feel you ruin my throat, mike," you rasp, grabbing his dick in your hand and stroking at the soft skin, suckling on his tip as you flash him the hunger you feel inside through a grin. "please."

he's silent, having a quarrel with himself as he takes in your blank, mindless expression. it’s so wrong of him, but you look so pretty like this, and he reaches out to hold your cheek as you pout at him again.

"pleaseeeeee," you whine, tears nearly welling in your eyes. "want you to wreck me, use me however you wanttttt. gonna be your obedient, drunk little whore, do whatever you ask."

mike loses all resolve then, and demands you to drop to your knees in between his own. you're quick to assume the position, letting him put one hand on the back of your head and feed his dick into your throat.

"shouldn't like this," mike mutters, wrapping your hair up into a ponytail with both of his hands, watching you rub his dick over your face after slipping it from your mouth to spit on it. he almost can't take you like this, spacey and pliant and all his to destroy. so drunk and willing and--- "shouldn't let me take advantage of you like this."

your face is stained with tears and spit, streaks of dried liquid overlaying your burning cheeks and swollen lips. the neckline of your top is soaked too, saliva glistening on your chest.

"maybe i wanted it," you muse, winking leisurely as you wrap both of your slim hands around his base, smirking up at him. "maybeeeeeee i went and got plastered cause i knew you’d come get me if i called," you're feeding him into your mouth again, and without warning, mike is holding your head stationary, shoving his hips up into your warm mouth while you gulp every time he hits the opening to your throat. of course you'd do something like this. your admittance makes mike feel a plethora of things, good, bad, ugly, but right now, all he's focused on is making you feel like the toy you wanted to be.

"you're a fucking slut, y/n," he hisses with gritted teeth, throwing his head back as he feels you open up for him, allowing him to raise his hips and sink further into you.

the muscles of your throat flutter around his length, and it makes his toes curl, tangling together in his socks. "only sluts go to a party to get drunk so they can be turned into pretty little fuckdolls later...like being fucking mindless for me, huh?"

"love it, mike," you whimper, laying your tongue flat so his dick can slip in and out of your mouth with less resistance. it's covered in thick spit, a droplet resting on the tip, and mike leans down to collect all of it in his own mouth with a sloppy, obscene kiss, before releasing it all over his pelvis with a groan.

it was a fucking mess, and he loved it. he knew you loved it like this too, and your enjoyment of the raunchiness is reflected in the way you patiently wait for him to plunge his dick in you, eyes twinkling with everything and nothing at the same time.

your hand is moving under your dress, fingers stroking along your sodden walls, but he doesn't care; not when your eyes are rolling back into your skull as his dick infiltrates your throat again, filling the room with a persistent gluckgluckgluck as he rhythmically slams your face into his base.

you're sure you'll have no voice after this, but fuck, will it be worth it. you're basking in every second of this, so happy you decided to go out tonight. you were unexperienced in some ways, but you knew how to get to people, or at least to mike. you could get him to do whatever you wanted under the guise of him being in control, and all it took was a bit of sweetening with your voice, a flutter of your eyelashes and a crooked, "innocent" smile for mike to be wound your finger, abusing your face in a way you shouldn’t have dreamt of. you're running out of breath, and your fingers dig into his thighs with the message, but he ignores you, gripping your hair so that your mouth gently snaps up around him every time he pulls his hips back. the sensation is godly, and mike's not sure if he deserves this really. you'd fallen so hard for him at one point, and he'd crushed your hope to be with him under his thumb, but now you're here, letting him have you like this despite those memories. he's lucky, for whatever force is keeping you in his orbit.

"letting me do this to you while you're fucked up...letting some older guy take your throat like you're just free use...you're not getting into heaven," you laugh around him, forming your mouth into a makeshift smile as he slowly slides you off of him, overstimulated by the ridges of your throat muscles clinging to him. he doesn't want to come on your face, not this time. he wants you to beg for him to come in you, for him to fill you until you're overflowing, leaking down your thighs while he gives you more and more and more and more...

"i know," you mewl, pretty face smeared with saliva and pre-come. "i'll be in hell with you. wouldn't have it any other way." mike sits up, thumbing at your bottom lip and hissing as you unhinge your jaw and suck the tip of it inside. your eyes are getting dimmer by the second, but you're still wanting everything mike can give you.

he won't stop until you say so, and he strangely finds himself buzzing with lust at the thought of you bossing him around for his pleasure and yours. how had you gotten in his head like this?

"go in my room and strip, baby. sit in the middle of the bed and don't move." you're on your feet in a flash, clumsily dashing down the short hall without a look back.

it gives him time to get some towels, a washcloth to clean your face up, some lube, and grab waters for the both of you, thinking about all the ways he's gonna contort you. he might even make you watch in the mirror, make you take in your glassy eyes and lack of autonomy, the way you're letting him, your brother's best friend, have you in such an obscene way.

he cracks the door open with all the items in hand, and scoffs when he sees you naked, but stretched out on the bed, mouth hanging open with soft snores.

he walks over to the edge, dropping the things he's holding onto the comforter and shaking your shoulder softly. "baby," you lurch awake, murmuring "huh?".

you blink the bleariness out of your eyes as he uses one of the towels he brought to wipe off his drenched groin, and he smirks at you. you two are done for the night, and that's fine with him. something about your small figure, safely sprawled against his sheets has him seeing hearts and stars and rainbows and everything else he's tried so hard to push away.

when he's dry, ditching his shirt and boxers, he leans against his headboard, cradling you in his arms and lap as he begins using the washcloth to wipe at the dried spittle on your face. "here," he announces, cracking open a water bottle and bringing it to your lips, tilting it so you're able to get some water between them without much effort.

you swallow the sips he gives softly, wrapping your arms around his neck again. you loved being skin to skin with him, and right now, you felt tranquility.

this is but a fraction of that 100% he wanted to give, you think. something has changed in him, and now he wants to show you care. he still wants you to need him, need him to keep you protected from the world outside while he corrupts you in his own. you want that, too.

"mmmmmmm, you're so boyfriend," you muse, placing pecks on his collarbones as he continues cleaning you up. he's able to maintain a pokerface towards you, wiping at your cheeks with passive strokes, but inside, he feels nothing but chaos. why does he like hearing you call him boyfriend, like having you in his arms like this? why did it all seem to fill a hole in his heart, one he always thought would stay a cavity?

"really do love you, mike," you add, staring at him full on now. you might as well be sober, with your attentive, doe-like eyes. "tried hard not to, but i do."

you've broken him down, so easily, and somehow, he's giving into you with a deep, irrevocable sigh. he has nothing else to do but finally accept the truth.

"me too, y/n. me too."

this was rough for me to write because my brain just couldn't work properly, so i hope it's not the dogshit i think it is lmao hope this satisfies you anon!

faire's seedlings ✿

@leahdhopkins4321-@pyr0-kai-@angstywhore-@sunazroo-@nyxthoughtss-@mirophobic-@fayethor-@marixsimps-@regretfulme-@ithinkitszeph-@707xn-@cattt777-@violetta-ximena-@amnesia33-@topnerd03-@fastnights-@laprvphette-@savage-aespa-@mfdxz-@0-tatiana-0-@dusstory-@delwrites-@mikeschmidtgf-@jun1p3rlol-@xyzstar-@aquamarine001-@atrociouslybear

#fnaf #fnaf movie #fnaf fic #mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt smut #faire's mike schmidt <3 #faire is writing stuff #josh hutcherson #faire answers asks #this man is sweet and gross and that's hot tbh #like...to ruin someone so close to you....having to keep it secret #lord jesus christ

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hyeque · 2 years

Note

ah...i want to sit at tsukki’s feet while he looks down his nose at me and says mean things😔 or have him grip my thigh under the table and mutter filthy things to me while we’re out with other people😣

the last laugh [tsukishima kei] [nsfw]

synopsis: in which you get punished for tsukishima’s teasing

notes: anon…this man would be a menace,,, he truly would

warnings: semi-public sex, fingering, blowjob, humiliation, kei is mean this time, orgasm denial, degradation, overstimulation, squirting, female!reader

upon choosing to date tsukishima, the one question that your friends asked you the most was ‘how difficult is it to date “someone like him?”’, and you only answer that it is in fact not difficult to date him at all. that most people get his character wrong. they misunderstand him.

and it’s true in his actions. you started getting the question less when people actively saw how sweet he was with you. seen in making you walk on the inside of the sidewalk, his gentle, sweet kisses to your temple when greeting you. seen when his hands hover protectively over you at all times to make sure you’re okay. seen in him tugging his extremely large jacket over your shoulders without hesitation when you complain that you’re cold (even though he told you already to bring your own jacket multiple times). and seen in how he’ll nudge you with his foot and bring you food and water because he knows you haven’t eaten anything properly.

but boy does he make it hard to defend him at times.

once a well established couple, pda—though subtle—is not foreign between the two of you to all your friends.

and kei is, well, huge. so it’s only natural for his large form to move into your personal space. your knees often touch, and skin presses against one another. the smell of his aftershave and body wash evades your nose occasionally, and you can feel the deep timber of his voice when he speaks or laughs at something said by someone.

so, currently while seated at a bar with him and your friends, all of your senses are overriding your mind. you can’t help it. he’s pretty and gorgeous, and the fitted clothing he’s wearing today isn’t helping your thoughts at all. your brain thinks nothing shortly but just kei kei kei and you’re hoping and praying that he doesn’t take notice how effected you are by how close he is.

but of course, look at who you’re dating.

his golden brown eyes happen to glance over, noting just how you’re subtly squeezing your thighs together. something he knows you only do when you’re feeling especially needy.

he rests one large hand on your leg and you shiver, knowing the innocent implications behind the gesture will soon turn nasty. he gently traces his calloused thumb over your skin to get you to relax, and like always, it works.

a faint smirk appears on his face, but it can easily be played off as him laughing at something stupid shoyo did. but you both know it’s because of how easy and pliant you are for him. his hand shoves it’s way between your thighs, and you glance at him, hoping he’ll get the memo to stop. but the man simply isn’t paying you any attention. his eyes are focused on something being said by hitoka. you can’t move very much away from him either, because on the other side of you is a wall.

you squirm in a way to shake off his hand, but his grip on your thigh tightens and he pinches you in warning. you yelp a little at the pain and a few heads turn in your general direction.

your name is called and you reassure that you’re fine, you just bumped your knee under the table. you also throw in something about the room being a little cold, and that you’re just adjusting yourself to get comfortable.

tsukishima leans into you and rests his hand on your forehead to “check for a fever”. meanwhile, his other hand is pushing your already slick-stained panties to the side. a sharp inhale from him and you know he’s turned on now as well.

you whine quietly and he shoots you a quick glare when you try to touch the bulge in his jeans. he removes your hand before he leans down to act as if he needs to say something to you.

“are you going to be able to sit still and behave? or do i need to teach your dumb cunt a lesson privately?” he murmurs. his fingers are now brushing over your clit, your slick coating the offending appendages.

your heart skips a beat, and you know he’s serious by his words, so you only answer quickly and accordingly. “please don’t stop…i-i will behave, i promise.”

his dark expression instantly brightens, and your sweet boyfriend has returned. “good.” he kisses your temple, gently patting your head.

you think that’s the end of it, but no. there’s no warning when tsukishima slips two fingers inside of you and you bite your fist to control your noise. he looks unfazed for someone who’s knuckles deep in you. if you listen closely, though, there’s the lewdly noise of squelching from his fingers moving vigorously.

you plaster on a smile as one of your friends looks over with concern. but it’s hard to concentrate on the group conversation with now four of tsukishima’s fingers in you.

and his foul mouth doesn’t make it any better.

“jesus christ,” he mutters, eyes flickering back to you, “are you really this soaked right now? in front of all our friends? are you not ashamed?”

he doesn’t expect an answer back, and personally, he’d rather it stay that way. because then he can play all his cards how he wants to.

a grin appears on his face when he curls his fingers and you keen quietly, instantly hushed by him. “better not leave a mess on this booth we’re sitting in right now.” and he pinches your clit, sending a roll of pleasure through you.

no one questions the closeness between the two of you. tsukishima only acts as if you’re snuggled closer to him for warmth based on your earlier statement. everyone’s sitting far apart enough that no one can see what’s happening under the table.

and you can feel yourself close. he can, too. there’s no doubt with the way you’re starting to tighten up on him, pelvic muscles twitching and contracting. you subtly move your hips against his hand while sneaking glances, and he knows. he knows you’re about to gush all over him. the only problem now is, will he actually let you c—

“ew, suckyshima. are you really feeling up your girlfriend right in front of everyone right now?” shoyo sneers.

this halts both of you, and you feel your eyes nearly brim with tears as your orgasm slips from your tsukishima’s fingertips.

how hinata sees any of it? you don’t know. tsukishima doesn’t either. but maybe if either one of you realized the fact that tangerine dropped his silverware beneath the table, you would’ve stopped.

tsukishima blinks, his expression unchanging, but the twitch in his brow and reddening of his ears is unmissable. “i don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“yeah? then show us your hand.” tobio smirks, leaning back. when the blonde makes no move to, both pairs of the quick attack duo holler with laughter. hitoka and tadashi simply sit, flustered and beet red.

it’s not helpful that both of you are embarrassed in this situation. in fact, you’re a little peeved at the whole thing. the teasing, your ruined orgasm, hinata and kageyama’s laughing.

so if anyone is going to get the last laugh, it’s going to be you.

“i told him to stop,” you let slip, pouting, “but he couldn’t keep his hands off of me and leave me alone. his horniness is uncontrollable sometimes, sorry.”

it’s quiet for a moment before the table ends up hollering with laughter. hinata and kageyama waste no more time to make more jabs and even yamaguchi joins in, followed by small giggles from yachi.

you start to laugh, but the aura besides you is one that has become…chilling. you see tsukishima sitting in an eerie silence. a small smile on his face.

and in his mind, you know he’s seething, because a quiet kei is worse than one having angry outbursts.

it was one thing for him to be laughed at by hinata, but kageyama? that’s the last straw.

the blonde simply swipes you up by the arm before he’s pulling you out the booth, tugging you forcibly to the restroom. the group watches in awe as he escorts you inside.

once the door is locked, hands and lips pin you to it. you gasp at the assault taking place on your neck. tsukishima's tongue glides across your neck before he's sucking and biting at your skin and you hear the telltale noise of his buckle coming undone.

your nerves get the better of you and you say, “h-here? but someone will—”

he shoves his fingers in your mouth, and to no surprise, you can taste yourself on them. “no, no. you want to embarrass me, so now you don’t get the privilege of having your punishment done completely privately. you think i care about anyone hearing you moan? because i could care less right now. for all i know, they should be thanking me for being able to hear something as angelic as your orgasms.”

he’s biting at your collarbone now, wasting no time to move in on your breasts. he pulls back and huffs out a laugh. “it’s almost like you wanted to be caught. when you know how hinata and kageyama look at you. who’d knew you go to such whoreish lengths.”

kei knows his words aren’t the most logical, but he doesn’t care. he’s provoking you the way you provoked him.

“y-you started it!” you blurt, feeling your face heat up as you cover your mouth. tsukishima’s brown eyes glowered as they focus on you.

his large hand rests gently on your neck, the grip only slightly tight. "little girl, you're really testing my patience today."

he pushes you to the floor, his hand titling your chin up. “maybe if you didn’t decide to think with your pussy, you wouldn’t be in this position right now.” he thumbs your cheek, wiping away your frustrated tears.

“now come on, put that smart mouth of yours to good use. we don’t have all day.” he huffs.

and you’re trembling because you can see the very clear and very visible bulge protruding from his jeans.

pulling tsukishima’s dick out, you’re instantly reminded of what backs up his cocky nature. weighing heavily in your hands, his cock throbs under your touch. he’s not as lanky as he used to be, but in the past there had been jokes here and there wondering where all the food he ate went if not to his muscles.

and sure enough, the answer is right in front of you.

kei quirks a brow, smirking down at you. “what? cock got your tongue? you haven’t even put it in your mouth yet.”

biting your tongue, you only take him in your mouth, making him swear under his breath as you accommodate fitting him all down your throat.

his hand moves to the back of your scalp and gently guides your head movements. he closes his eyes, sighing with content when reopening them to look at you. “yeah, just like that, princess. suck my cock just how i taught you.”

the pet name makes you gush and you go to slip a hand between your legs, but have it swatted away by him.

“none of that. you don’t get to touch my cunt.” he snaps before grabbing your hands, “now use your hands on my balls.”

you comply, easily playing with them just how he likes. a pretty moan escapes him and you nearly roll your eyes back at how ethereal kei looks. a pretty blush covering his pale skin all from his face, torso, and hips. there’s nothing like bringing such a big man to his knees.

mischievously, you suckle on his tip, knowing how sensitive he is there and how easy it is to make him cum. even if you can’t get off, you can still get something out of this situation, and you’re dying to have his cum in your mouth. your tongue laps over his fat mushroom tip, not daring to miss his frenenlum.

he gasps, his moans stuttering before he realizes what you’re doing. “b-brat, who told you to do that—” he hisses, pulling you off of him. you only stare up at him innocently.

he glares, scoffing, “you haven’t learned anything, have you?”

“i dunno, maybe you can show me?” you respond, batting your eyes.

his restraint snaps and he shoves his cock back in your mouth. slowly he starts to fuck your face. your hands fly to grasp onto his thighs and soon the sound of your gasps and gagging ricochet off the bathroom walls.

tsukishima watches as your drool leaks down his cock and you eyes tear up. “whining about how i ‘started it’ when we both know your slutty cunt is what started it in the first place. i can’t take you anywhere without you getting overly horny. it’s annoying. who’s horniness is uncontrollable now?”

you can only sit there and take it as he repeatedly hits the back of your throat with his fat tip. whining quietly, you dig your nails into his thighs.

“your precious boyfriend just wanted to take care of you, and the thanks i get is you embarrassing me? i shouldn’t even be letting you suck me off right now. you're enjoying this way too much.” he pulls away again, and you nearly cry, mouth feeling lost and empty without him in it.

“kei, p-please…i’m sorry, okay?” you desperately reach out for him, but he moves away.

he fake pouts, “‘p-please’, why? why shouldn’t i just finish on your face?”

“because i want to make you feel good. i’m sorry, i’ll make it up to you.” you plead, eyes tearing up. “i’ll make you feel so good, i want to!”

he doesn’t admit that your teary eyes do something to him, and only grunts. “then you better make it worth my time.”

and you do. you do like your life depends on it. and you can tell he’s having a hard time holding back his moans.

“fuck, baby, you’re going to make me cum. see how your mouth is better suited for things like this instead of talking? you’re making me feel so good right now. such a good fucking girl.” praises slipping effortlessly from his mouth when you make him feel over the moon.

his hips are stuttering and thighs are shaking. “s-shit, where do you want it, huh? are you gonna be good and swallow it all?”

you nod rapidly, heart pounding loud in your chest as you finally, finally get what you want.

he moans loudly but is careful not to say your name. he doesn’t want to give you that kind of satisfaction. suddenly thick, hot ropes of his cum are being shot down your throat. he watch’s in awe as you gulp it all down with barely no problems. he’ll never get tired of your sinful mouth.

he’s panting and zipping himself back up before looking down at you and kneeling. “lemme see.”

you choke. “w-what?”

“let me see the mess you made, dummy.” he rolls his eyes before instructing you to grab onto him. with your legs thrown over his shoulders, his face meets your heat. you twitch as his hot breath fans over you and your heart hammers loudly in your chest. his golden eyes are cold. menacing. calculating as he stares up at you. you only wonder what he has planned for you both.

“listen up. i know you’re soaked down here, so i’m going to do you a favor and lick you clean with my tongue. you hold back any moans, and i stop. you touch me anywhere than my shoulders, and i stop. got it?” he asks, squeezing your thighs gently.

you nod rapidly.

he clicks his tongue. “no, verbally. say it out loud.”

“i understand, sir.” you nod, shivering.

he kisses your inner thigh, humming with satisfaction. “good. shouldn’t be letting any of this go to waste.” he mumbles, before moving his mouth onto your cunt. his tongue laps over the lace of your stained panties and he groans, tongue probing your dripping holes.

“kei—ahh, feels so good!” you cry, fingers itching to grab onto his blond locks but miserably groping the door.

your musk seeps through the lace and he grunts impatiently, tearing the lace with his teeth to reach your middle.

you have no time to complain when his tongue is suddenly deep inside of you, his lips wrapping around your now exposed bud, and fingers moving in coordination with his mouth.

a silent curse in your head goes to tsukishima for being a volleyball player and also dexterous with his hands. it doesn’t take you along time to cum on his tongue and suddenly you’re sobbing his name just how he wanted you to.

“mmm good job, baby,” he thumbs your cheek, “but i don’t think you were loud enough. i know you can get more vocal than that.”

instantly, he’s face first back into your pussy for more. he’s much more ruthless this time, and there’s a borderline crazed expression on his face, almost like you’re a toy and he’s figuring you out.

“m’sensitive!” you whine, body trembling. you almost push him away, but remember his warning words from earlier. you only can dig your nails into the palm of your hand to cope.

“yeah? and when has that ever been my problem? you taste even better when you’re overstimulated anyways.” he noted before burying his face right back into you. he’s groaning as your slick runs down his chin. his glasses are surely a mess but he doesn’t need to see anything—hell he doesn’t need to breathe either. not while in your cunt with your pretty thighs around his neck.

it’s embarrassing how close your high is again, but when kei knows every part of you like the back of his hand, there’s no reason to be.

“k-kei, p-please, i’m going to—” but with one flick of his fingers, you’re gushing and squirting onto his face. you squeal his name, whining and begging—for him to stop or keep going, you don’t know. you’re delirious by this point.

he cleans you up, fixing your dress and hair. there’s nothing to do about the bruises along your neck, chest and knees, but tsukishima likes it that way.

“can you stand?” he asks, noting your wobbly legs. you know he’s not really concerned but just finding ways to stoke his ego. especially in front of kageyama and hinata.

“just barely.” you whisper, throat stinging.

“i’ll run you a bath and make some tea when we get home.” tsukishima informs, noting to also get ointment for your knees.

your heart swoons at the gesture. but once appearing in front of your friends again, your embarrassment level is through the roof. the deafening silence is nearly unbearable and your face is on fire.

“ahh she’s not feeling well right now, so we’re going to head home. isn’t that right?” you boyfriend looks down at you, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

you nod solemnly, your voice too hoarse and brain fucked too dumb to make a coherent response.

and as always, kei gets the last laugh.

#tsukishima x reader #tsukishima kei x reader #tsukishima kei smut #tsukishima smut #haikyu x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyu smut #haikyuu smut #hq x reader #hq smut #haikyu fic #haikyuu x black reader #haikyu x black reader #haikyu #hq tsukki #hq tsukishima

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podcastenthusiast · 1 year

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"Here should be safe to set up camp," Geralt says, scanning the treeline with his eyes in that odd witcher way. Like he's seeing much more than a mere mortal could.

"Thank the gods," sighs Jaskier, who's been really starting to regret skiving off those physical fitness courses at Oxenfurt.

"Get a fire started while I tend to Roach."

"Oh Geralt, I'd love to, I would. Truly it's colder than a sorceress' shapely—"

"Jaskier."

"Well, as they say: you can lead a bard to timber, but you can't make him—"

"Just do it, Jaskier."

"I don't know how! All right? I've never built a fire in the middle of nowhere before! It's not one of the seven liberal arts, and I much prefer my fires stoked by comely barmaids in taverns."

Geralt looks at him for a long moment. It's a complicated look—frustration and amusement and a hint of regret. Mostly it's a look that says Jaskier is an idiot for joining him on the Path.

"Right," Geralt says slowly. He begins building the campfire himself.

"I imagine they teach wilderness survival to baby witchers at witcher school."

Geralt looks at him again and there's something different in his expression. The ghost of a smile? Jaskier doesn't quite know how to read it.

"Kaer Morhen," he says. "And yeah. Something like that."

"Oh?" Jaskier has to rein in his enthusiasm, his curious questions. Geralt so rarely reveals anything personal about himself or his past. Not that Jaskier has been forthcoming in that regard either. They live in the moment, day by day, but some context would help his creative process.

Besides all that, he genuinely wants to get to know Geralt a little better.

"Vesemir took me out into the forest one day. Gave me a knife and left me there for a month."

There is no bitterness in his words. If anything, the witcher sounds...almost fond. Nostalgic. Proud of his younger self for overcoming the challenges his mentors set before him.

It takes a moment for the true meaning of that to sink in and, once it does, Jaskier is horrified. His own parents weren't great, but even they would never simply abandon him.

"He just— like as a test— what—?"

"Real eloquent, bard. I doubt he had any choice. Probably wasn't even supposed to give me anything."

"How old were you?" he demands, unsure if any answer will make this revelation less abhorrent.

"Six? Seven? Maybe eight. I don't know." Geralt makes a gesture with his fingers and the pile of wood beneath his hand sparks with flame. "Not old enough to have learned Igni yet."

He can picture it, too, so vividly. Curse his dammed artist's imagination. Geralt, just a kid, alone and scared and definitely cold—because no one bothered to teach him how to start a fire.

"Stop it," the witcher snaps.

"What?"

"Looking at me like that. I'm fine. I was fine back then. Wasn't so bad at all compared to the Grasses. Vesemir came back for me like he said he would. I survived the trial—no, I didn't just survive; I exceeded all expectations, which is why they..." The witcher trails off. Takes a breath.

All of that... It's quite a lot of words for Geralt. Honest words, even.

It's his job to talk, to sing, to commit the most painful and difficult experiences to beautiful poetic verse. But Jaskier doesn't know what to say to his friend right now. Surely he has to say something.

"Geralt..."

"Don't waste your pity. Save it for the ones who didn't make it through. I did."

"Okay," the bard replies, careful and tentative. He isn't a brave man, nor a particularly kind one. But Jaskier considers himself an honest fellow so he adds, "Just because you made it through, you know, that doesn't mean what happened to you was all right, Geralt. Children aren't supposed to be left alone to fend for themselves."

The witcher laughs—a humorless, wretched sound. He doesn't say anything at all to that. Which is okay, really; Jaskier just needed him to hear it.

There is a long silence. The fire crackles. Jaskier absently strums his lute.

"You're gonna write a ballad about this, aren't you," Geralt says after a while.

"No!" Maybe. Yes. He won't perform it.

"Hm."

The fire crackles.

Quite out of the blue, Geralt tells him, "I befriended a wolf back then."

"What? You're joking!"

"Witchers don't have a sense of humor. Common knowledge."

"Common misconception. Most people are just stupid. No, hang on, stop distracting me—You had a pet wolf?!"

"Not a pet," the witcher corrects, smiling faintly. "Fangtooth was her own wolf."

"Fangtooth?" Jaskier repeats, struggling to contain his amusement. "Not Roach?"

"No."

"Forgive me, but that's adorable."

"I was just a child. I wanted to stay with her in the wilderness. Be a wolf, too. Or a knight." He shakes his head dismissively. Silly childish dreams.

"But you didn't," Jaskier says. And feels stupid for saying something so obvious.

"Too late for that," Geralt replies without reproach. "I was already a witcher."

"As a child, I wanted to run away and join the circus," the bard offers.

"Of course you did."

They're quiet for a moment then. Comfortable, shared silence. Just the sounds of birds and forest creatures, and Roach contentedly eating grass. The fire crackles.

"Geralt, will you teach me to light a fire? Without witcher magic, obviously, since I don't have any."

"Why?"

"Because...well, because I could be a more useful traveling companion. Like Fangtooth must've been."

"...Fine," Geralt agrees after some thought.

It is a skill he will be very grateful to have on freezing nights in the coming years, especially whenever the witcher is too injured or ill from those dreadful potions to help set up camp. He will try not to think of the child Geralt once was, subjected to horrific tests of his ability to survive all on his own.

Except he hadn't been on his own back then, not completely. And he isn't alone anymore, either.

#whisking canons and headcanons together until i get the hurt/comfort i need #this time it's twn jaskier and stuff but some hexer geralt backstory #the witcher #geraskier #jaskier #geralt of rivia #geraskier fic #witcher fanfiction #possibly part of a series where jaskier realizes how fucked up geralt's childhood was

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crimbabyops · 6 months

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My Little Succubi~

18+ OC!Montai x FemReader

Warnings: two dicks, rough sex, praise, (a little) breeding, nicknames: Angel and Succubus, lmk if I missed anything

A/N: This is my very first spicy fic so I hope y’all enjoy MWAH

He rubs her hips and smiles feeling her melt from his reassuraning touch that promised the pain would go away and be replaced with a divine pleasure, that even . the heavens would be jealous of it.

“You ready angel?” He gazed down at her seeing her body trembling and more than ready to receive what she ached to feel . “Y-yes” she responds timidly but nods for himto continue.

He croned with a deep timber as his his index finger raises her chin to meet his gaze.“It’s okay, my sweet little angel. I will satisfy your every need, want, and desire. “ he starts thrusting into her velvet walls slowly but deep making a cute little bulge in her stomach.

He chuckles with pride as he notices and rubs her tummy bulge, letting her really feel him, feeling her naughtiest fantasies happen right inside her tight little body. “You know, usually mortals can’t even take one..but yet here you are taking both like the good little an- no succubus that you are for me.” He continues to bring her pleasure and sweet corruption, her mind becoming mush as both dicks use her freely..

His hips roll as he speeds up his thrusts, going even deeper while he roars and bites his marks into her skin. “I hope you know we’re not done. We have the night night and all morning if your willing.. Your schedule has been cleared. So your beautiful body is all mine until your filled, leaking and reeking of me.” He chuckles darkly as he realizes you can’t even respond,your tongue hanging from your lips and your eyes rolling with you so fucked out everything looks and sounds like a blur.

He flips her over and whispers into her ear as he yanks her head up, forces her to look into the mirror. “Look at you..so fucked out your drooling and dripping. And it’s all for me gorgeous.” He says as he grabs your phone and take a picture of your blissfully deprived face. “Have to get every angle of you taking me so beautifully.” He groans loud enough for your neighbors to start banging on their side of the wall as her headboard rocks recklessly. . “Now be my good succubi and pose for me so your desire can be seen every time I open my phone.”

#monster x reader #incubus x reader #incubus smut #first fic #oc x reader #monster smut #monster boyfriend

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tightjeansjavi · 7 months

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Slow Hands | Chapter 5

“be still, my foolish heart”

A/N: so originally I was going to write more for this chapter, but like @morning-star-joy says, sometimes a story tells you how it should be written so I’ve decided to end the chapter where I feel it felt most natural. The slow burn is still slow-burning but there’s definitely some development happening! 🤎🤎

~word count: 6.0k~

Pairing | Joel Miller x f! reader

Summary: you meet Joel’s horse, Tex while Joel opens up to you about his past further. Your connection begins to develop as you grow more comfortable with one another

Warnings: angst, anxiety, trauma, mentions of death, stress induced thoughts and feelings, fluff, awkward flirting, internal thoughts/dialogue, slow burn, mental health, remorse, forgiveness, soft! Joel, protective! Joel, in his feelings! Joel, readers nickname is beanie (coffee beans) ends on a bit of a cliff hanger, no age gap, +18 minors dni! Let me know if I missed any warnings please!

main masterlist series masterlist playlist

Joel Miller was fast asleep on your couch. In your home. He felt comfortable enough to doze off at your kitchen table. Well, of course he was exhausted. He was out at the late hours of the night patrolling with Tommy, and then he spent the early morning hours with you on your rooftop.

Nonetheless, he was asleep on your couch.

You couldn’t help but feel giddy like a little school girl that was developing her first crush at recess. Joel was handsome, ruggedly handsome and there was no denying it. He reminded you of a pearl. Something so beautiful, yet hard to obtain as a pearl is always guarded by the outer shell of an oyster. You couldn’t help but wonder what he thought of you as you stepped outside of your home. The air was still brisk and there was a fresh layer of frost coating the ground. Spring was on the horizon with the sound of chirping chickadee's that gossiped in the treetops above. New life was beginning to sprout and blossom through the frost. Soon Jackson would flourish in green.

You triple checked your front door lock as a forced habit. When you felt relieved that the door was in fact locked, you quietly walked down the wooden steps that were far sturdier now as Joel insisted on replacing some of the rotted planks.

As you started the short walking distance to the stables, you remembered Joel telling you that he would often count his steps as a grounding system. In turn, you found yourself doing the same. There was some innately comforting being around the horses. The barn smell didn’t bother you, in fact you relished in it. From the sweet smelling grain, the earthy scent of Alfalfa, and the horses natural aroma. All of these scents permeated your senses in an indescribable warmth. There was no sign of Ellie or Dina when you stepped into the stables and you were greeted with soft nickers, and curious expressions before the horses returned to their breakfast.

Tommy’s horse, Timber, was a leopard spotted appaloosa that truly had the goofiest human-like personality. Sometimes you wondered if there was actually a human trapped inside of his four-legged body just from the way he would look at you. You stopped in front of his stall and reached into your coat pocket to pull out a handful of sugar cubes that laid flat in your palm.

“Hey, pal.” You softly cooed as Timber lifted his head from his grain pan. “Did you see anything exciting last night? Any stories for me?”

Timber snorted softly as his velvet soft muzzle rested in your palm. He wasted no time to gently snatch up each of the sugar cubes before he was nuzzling your pocket for more.

“Wow, five racoons? How exciting.” You giggled as you playfully and gently nudged his muzzle away. “Were you scared?”

Another snort and a hoof pawing at the ground. “Oh, alright. Just one more, okay?” You snuck him one last sugar cube followed by a gentle pat on his neck before you strode away from his stall. Your mare, Tess, was a flea bitten gray QH. Shortly after outbreak day, you found her wandering through your abandoned neighborhood and you were drawn together like moth to flame. She was your special girl, your beacon of light through the darkness. Her darker counterpart, Tex, was always at her side. He was always at her side, brooding like a shadow but he had the most gentle brown eyes despite his rugged demeanor. Tex was a jet black mustang, and unbeknownst to you, he was Joel’s horse.

You stopped outside of Tess’s stall first and your mare already had her neck outstretched over the stall door to greet you. She nickered softly as you gently wrapped your arms around her fury neck in a tender hug. “Good morning my special girl.” Your tone was so soft-spoken, sweet like the sugar cubes that laid in your coat pocket. Sometimes you felt a bitter-sweet melancholy thinking about how much time you had spent with this mare and the trials and tribulations you went through together. Maybe one day when your mind and heart were calm, you’d be able to go outside beyond Jackson’s towering walls on her back once more.

You wiped your brewing tears along the sleeve of your hoodie as you fed Tess a few sugar cubes. Your fingers gently twirled the soft tendrils of her forelock between your fingers as your forehead came to gently rest upon her own.

You were torn from your present mourning thoughts by the sound of Tex’s hoof pawing at the ground. His ears were attentively flicked forward in your direction.

“Do you want some sugar cubes too?” You softly asked the jet-black mustang as he pawed at the ground once more.

Your forehead slowly dropped from Tess’s as you reached into your pocket once more and pulled out a helping of sugarcubes. Despite Tex’s brooding nature, he was incredibly gentle as he ate the sweets from your tender palm. His velvety soft muzzle and wispy whiskers tickled your skin. His eyes held so much warmth, so much kindness, and you swore this horse was staring into your very soul.

Joel had awoken shortly after you had departed for the stables. He vaguely remembered the handwritten note nestled in the worn fibers of his flannel pocket. He slowly swung his legs over the side of the couch with a heavy grunt. His hand reached for the mug of coffee that he downed in one gulp as the muscles in his back strained tightly. He let out a grumbled sigh as he carefully folded the quilted you had laid upon him. He grabbed both the empty mug and plate and brought them back into the kitchen. He’d be damned if he wasn’t a respectful house guest. He couldn’t help but feel that warm tingle in his heart creeping through the morning chill as he stepped outside. How sweet you were to leave him a treat and a note.

He headed off in the direction of the stables and the sight he saw warmed his heart even further as he observed Tex gently nibbling on the lapels of your coat as you were braiding individual sections of his charcoal black mane. Joel and his horse counterpart were very similar in the sense that they had a protective brooding nature. Hardened exterior yet soft in the middle. Weathered and mysterious, yet docile and gentle.

“Y’know darlin, if y’keep feedin’ me’n Tex sweets like this, you’re gonna fatten us up.” Joel softly chuckled as he stepped further into the barn. He hoped that he had not frightened you, or ruined the moment you were sharing with his horse entirely.

You could feel the heat rise to your cheeks as Joel leaned up against the side of Tex’s stall with one of his broad arms leaning against the side of the wooden stall door. His expression was playful in nature as your eyes finally met his softened gaze.

“Tex is yours I presume?”

“Mhm. He’s got an apparent sweet tooth jus’ like me as well. Think he’s taken a particular likin’ to ya Beanie.” He murmured silkily.

“I have to admit..you do look alike. Tess has taken a liking to him as well.” You responded with a smile tugging along your lips as you finished braiding the last section of his once unruly mane.

“How so? You’ve got me intrigued now darlin.’” He paused momentarily as his eyes flitted over at your mare. “Tess is yours? I had..no idea.”

“Your eyes. They’re the same as his..that same deep shade of brown..like cinnamon. Tess is mine, yes. I found her after the outbreak day, after the government bombed the major cities. She was wandering through my abandoned neighborhood and were just drawn to each other.”

Tex and Tess.

Joel could feel a newfound sense of emotions wash over him as he cleared his throat against the sleeve of his coat. “Well, she’s..a real sweetheart. I can see why Tex likes spendin’ time with her. What about my eyes now? They’re like cinnamon? Wish I could see the world from your eyes darlin,’ cause to me? My eyes are just brown. Like the dirt. Ain’t nothin’ special to ‘em.” He rolled his shoulders into a half shrug.

“She is a sweetheart. She’s my special girl. Joel, brown eyes are beautiful. Have you ever seen them in the sunlight? They melt into golden rays, like sticky warm caramel. There’s nothing boring about brown eyes. They’re extraordinary.” You murmured as your eyes casted downwards to where Tex was still gently nuzzling his face into the warmth of your coat.

Unbeknownst to either you or Joel, Dina and Ellie were up in the hay rafters laying on their stomachs as they eavesdropped.

“Why don’t you ever talk about my eyes like that El?” Dina softly teased as she lightly poked Ellie’s shoulder.

“Because I'm not a poet, Dee.” Ellie whispered back with a smile tugging on her lips.

“Well, Beanie sure is. I don’t think I've ever seen Joel blush like that before. He’s as red as a tomato.” Dina whispered as her and Ellie quietly peeked over the rafters to get a better look.

“That’s cus’ Joel likes her. Isn’t it obvious? He’s always spendin’ time with her. I can’t blame him honestly because she's like really really pretty.” Ellie murmured as she rubbed her hands together to keep them warm. “Not as pretty as you of course.” She quickly added feeling heat rise to her cheeks. Dina and Ellie were just friends but lately there was something else there that was beginning to simmer between them. The last time Ellie felt for someone in a romantic sense was Riley..and now? Well, only time would tell what laid ahead for the two teenagers.

Joel was unable to find the words that he could respond with to your generous compliment. His brain felt like it was re-wiring as if the circuit had been cut through. He didn’t want to leave you hanging like a stray leaf on a dead branch that was holding on for dear life as a ferocious wind tried to tear it from the stem. He blinked, cleared his throat as his thumb swiped across the tip of his aquiline nose. “So, I take it that you like my eyes then?” He mused with a slight arch of his brow as both of his broad arms came to cross against his chest.

“Yeah, I suppose you could frame it that way.” You responded a bit sheepishly as you peered up at him through soft lashes.

“Well, that was a mighty fine compliment t’give me. I never thought of brown eyes in that mindset. Maybe I outta start tryin’ to see the world through your eyes, huh? Anyway, I didn’t get much’of a chance to give Tex a proper groomin’ after patrol..you wanna help me out?”

“If you’re looking to live life with your head up in the clouds like me, then I recommend you adapt to my mindset. See the small beauties that what’s left of the world has to offer. Like the changing of seasons for example. Winter is so cold, so dark, yet it is beautiful. The way that the snow hugs the branches on the trees and the jaw dropping sunsets that paint the sky.” You trailed off before responding to his question, “Sure, I'd love to help you out.”

Joel was in awe to say the least. For someone who had been through so many unspeakable horrors, you truly did see life in all of its beauty. He could listen to you shamelessly for hours if you’d let him. He pushed himself off of the side of Tex’s stall as he maneuvered around you to bend down and pick up the grooming box. “I never really was all that a fan of winter. Holds a lot of bad memories f’me. I do see what you mean about the beauty in it. I love fall the most. When the colors in the sky begin to change and the leaves transform into all of these brilliant shades of orange, yellows, and reds. It was always Sarah's favorite time of the year as well. She’d drag my ass to the nearest pumpkin patch as soon as the first leaves began to fall.”

“I’m sorry that winter holds bad memories for you..but i’m a firm believer that everything heals with time. I think out of all the seasons fall is probably my favorite as well. Was Sarah a big fan of Halloween? She seems like the kinda kid that would go crazy over getting to dress up.” You wanted to nurture this conversation that Joel was openly having with you. You could only imagine the emotional toll it brought upon him when talking about Sarah.

“Oh, she absolutely loved Halloween. She’d have her costume pretty much planned out months in advance. We watched all of the movies together as well. Beetlejuice was her favorite. What can I say? My kid has some damn good taste.” He chuckled softly as he quietly unlatched Tex’s stall. “I’d take her trick-or-treating and then when we’d get home I'd help her sort through all of her candy and make her pay the ‘dad tax.’” His eyes crinkled in the corners when his mind encapsulated an image of a ten year old Sarah in her Lydia Deetz costume. “Daaad. You can’t eat all of my candy! You have to save some for me!” “Yeah, yeah dontcha worry, kiddo. I ain’t gonna eat it all, but you gotta pay the dad tax, baby girl. That’s the rules.”

Joel had just slipped Tex’s halter over his ears when he felt your hand gently grasp his bicep through the material of his warm jacket. He had zoned out after recalling the memory and you were just trying to bring him back down to earth. “Joel?..” You attentively asked as he looked over his shoulder at you. “Sorry darlin.’ Didn’t mean to zone out like that. Jus’ y’know get a little emotional thinkin’ about her is’all.” He murmured.

“Hey, it's okay. Sounds like you have a lot of wonderful memories of her, Joel. I have to ask..what the hell is the ‘dad tax?’”

Joel felt a warm chuckle creep up his throat as he latched the metal clip around Tex’s halter. “Oh, the dad tax? S’jus’ a silly thing I came up with after she made me carry all of her candy bags for hours. Felt like it was only fair if I got a few pieces of her loot.” He responded with a casual shrug as he let Tex out of his stall so it would be easier to brush him down.

“Oh, I agree. That sounds perfectly fair. Man, I'd absolutely kill to have a Reese's peanut butter cup or a kit-kat. Did you end up being persuaded to dress up with her as well?” You picked up the curry comb from the grooming box before gently rubbing soothing circles into Tex’s furry coat to lift up any dirt or debris.

“Fuck.” He nearly groaned. “Reese’s were my favorite. I used to stick a few of them in the freezer and eat them after they got nice and chilled. It was like my guilty pleasure midnight snack. Oh, yeah I dressed up with her alright. Used to go all out with my costume as well. Whatever was gonna make her happy, y’know?”

“Oh my gosh, I used to do the same thing too! I’d stick an entire roll of them in the freezer. That was really the only way to eat them.” You softly giggled as Tex let out an appreciative grunt when you had found an itchy spot near his withers. “Was there a favorite character that you dressed up as?”

Joel pondered for a moment as he flipped through the memories in his mind of all the Halloween costumes he had dressed up in with Sarah. “Damn, that’s a good question darlin.’ There was one year we dressed up as Iron Man and the Hulk. Sarah insisted on being the Hulk of course. We did Sherlock Holmes and Watson for one year as well.”

“Wow, I would have definitely given y’all all of my candy if you trick-or-treated on my block. All the neighborhood kids had some lame costumes I swear. The best one I ever saw was a trio of girls dressed up as the Sanderson Sisters. I nearly gave them my whole goddamn bowl of candy.”

“Woah. The Sanderson Sisters? Those chicks are wicked.” He chuckled warmly. “Although, Binx was my favorite character out of the entire movie.”

“Oh, I loved Binx too. Dani was my personal favorite. She was such a cool kid.” You peeked over the top of Tex’s withers as you finished currying the dirt from his coat. You felt the heat rise to the highest point of your cheeks when you found that Joel was already looking at you. He looked away quickly of course and cleared his throat.

A comfortable silence washed over the two of you as you got into a groove with brushing down Tex.

Joel broke the silence a few minutes later after he had finished picking out clumps of dirt and rocks from Tex’s hooves. “So, now that the weather is changin’ and Spring is gonna be here soon..I won’t be on patrol during the late night shift. So uh–we can..spend some more time together if you’d like? M’sorry that I've been absent for a while. Maria told me that you were wonderin’ about me.”

You paused your present actions with a soft sigh as you dropped the brush into the grooming box with a soft thud. “Sometimes I struggle with having a rational thought. I–assumed that maybe you were blowing me off or something. Or that maybe you didn’t want to be my friend. It was so fucking silly for me to think that way, but my brain is a warzone a lot of time. It plays tricks on me..Maria told me that she assigned you, Tommy, and a few other men on the late night patrol because..you found something disturbing in the woods?..”

Joel could feel his jaw clench inwards as his fist tightened around the brush that he was holding. Images of those charred women sprung into his mind as he shook his head tightly. “Darlin,’ i’m sorry that it seemed like I was blowin’ you off. I would never do that to ya. I don’t think it is silly for you to think that way. My brain does shit like that too. S’okay that you were feelin’ that way. I jus’ genuinely felt bad, but it was out of my control y’know?” His head drooped slightly as he let out a slightly agitated sigh. It wasn’t directed at you, it was just his present frustrations. He and Tommy had lost track of the raiders and where they were headed. He felt like he had failed you, and the town.

“Joel, Maria wouldn’t tell me what you and Tommy found in the woods that night. Can you please tell me? I know it was out of your control, and when Maria told me the reason why I genuinely felt terrible. I can only imagine how exhausting these past couple of months have been for you.”

The energy seemed to take a drastic dip as Joel met your gaze once more. His jaw unclenched from the tight position it was currently held in. He wanted to tell you what he saw. He really did, but he promised both Tommy and Maria that he would not disclose the details to you. His lips parted as a sigh slipped past. He looked defeated as his shoulders slumped inwards. “Beanie, I'm sorry but I can’t tell you what we found.” He uttered softly.

“Joel, why can’t you tell me? I know I shouldn’t pry, but Maria told me that it was concerning and that–”

He cut you off with a gruff response as he raked his fingers through his salt and pepper dusted hair. “Beanie, I can’t tell you. Please don’t ask me again.” He nearly pleaded as his eyes bore deeply into yours.

“Okay.” You meekly responded. “I–won’t ask again. I’m sorry.” You sounded just as defeated as he did.

Fuck.

This is where Joel struggled the most in conversations. When every fiber in his being could sense the mood shifting and churning, he didn’t know how to bring it back to a calm place. This was usually the moment where he would snap and say the wrong thing. He could feel the word vomit pulsating on his tongue like bile. He didn’t want to keep secrets from you. Not when your friendship was just starting to bud like new sprouts through the permeating frost.

“I’m sorry too. I don’t want to keep secrets from ya darlin.’ I jus’ hope you can understand.”

Please. Please understand.

“Joel, it’s okay. I understand, and I'm not going to hold this against you or anything I promise.” You responded reassuringly.

He let out a visible sigh of relief as he dropped his hand from tugging at the roots of his hair to his side. “Okay, good.” He softly rasped.

After you finished brushing down Tex, Joel led him back into his stall before latching the door shut. “I take it you never found Ellie or Dina? Maybe they’re at breakfast already.” He set Tex’s halter back on the hook alongside his stall before he shoved his hands deep within the pockets of his worn out faded jeans.

“I didn’t see them when I came in. Maybe they are at breakfast like you said? Regardless, I appreciate you suggesting last night that I go and spend some time with the horses.”

“Of course darlin.’ I jus’ know what it’s like to struggle n’feel like you ain’t have no one there to support ya. Horses are good listeners. Better listeners than I am.”

“I disagree. You are a good listener, Joel. You didn’t make me or my feelings feel small or insignificant last night. You’re a good friend.” You meant every word as a small smile tugged on the corner of his lips.

“Well, thank you. Guess I can do somethin’ right huh?” He chuckled softly.

“Hey, don’t sell yourself short, okay?”

“I won’t darlin.’” He seems the least bit convincing as his eyes are averting from making contact with you. You’d accept his response, for now.

After leaving the stables, Joel accompanied you to your shop. He could have gone home, but after not seeing you for quite some time, he felt like he could sacrifice his sleep a little longer. So while you were whipping up two lattes, he was rearranging your back storage area so that there was no chance that a sack of sugar would potentially fall on your unsuspecting head.

“Hey, Beanie?” His voice sounded slightly strained from the heavy lifting he was doing.

“Yeah, Joel? Everything alright back there?”

“Peachy.” He grunted softly as he set the sack of sugar down. “Got a question for ya.”

“Shoot.”

“Your horse, Tess. Did ya name her yourself or did she have that name previously.” He was curious. It was evident in his tone as he wiped a bit of sweat that had beaded upon his brow.

“I named her myself. Why do you ask?”

“Jus’ wonderin.’ I uh–had a partner named Tess. Tommy and I met her after outbreak day. The three of us became a ruthless team. Anyway, we were together for as long as I can remember. We relied on each other heavily. ‘Specially after Tommy up n’left me for the fireflies. She was my partner n’crime. The brains of our operation and I probably wouldn’t have survived very long if it wasn’t for her. Your horse..just reminded me of her s’all.” He missed Tess. He missed her more than he liked to admit and even though time had passed since her death, he still wished that she lived. He imagined that she would have found ultimate peace in Jackson. She deserved that and more than what Joel thought he could offer her.

His voice was less strained and sounded closer in proximity as you turned and faced him with a mug outstretched towards him. “Did..she die?” You softly asked.

He somberly nodded as he gently grasped the mug in his hand. The steam slowly rose from the top and kissed his skin as he leaned back against the counter. “She went out a goddamn hero though. Saved me and Ellie from a hoard of infected. Sacrificed herself so that we would live. She was g’nna die anyway. Got bit. Still feel like sometimes I failed her. Coulda done more to keep her safe. She deserved fuckin’ better.” He bitterly sighed with a shake of his head.

“Hey, I'm sure Tess wouldn’t want you to be feeling like this Joel. She doesn’t think that you failed her. She doesn’t think that at all. She’d want you to forgive yourself Joel.” You reached over and gently touched his bicep as he choked back a strained laugh.

“Yeah? Maybe. Jus’ never was able to give her what she truly wanted.”

“What couldn’t you give her, Joel?” You softly prompted him.

“My heart.” He uttered just above a whisper as his gaze slowly fell upon your face. You could see the glassy look in his irises as his lower lip ever-so slightly wobbled under the soft glow of the fairy lights dangling above.

You could feel your heart straining against the figurative strings in your chest cavity as you looked upon his sunken features. “Joel, it’s not too late to tell her how you feel.” You murmured.

“What?” He looked puzzled as his brows furrowed. He let out a soft sniffle as he dragged the tip of his thumb across his nose. “How can I do that?”

“Write to her. Write her a letter straight from your heart Joel.”

“How’s that supposed t’work? She ain’t ever gonna see it.”

“You just have to believe that she will see it. If you write down how you feel, and all the things that you wish that you could have told her, you’ll be letting that part of yourself go. That part where you feel like you’re to blame for her death. Pen and paper. Write it all down.” You softly encouraged him.

“Will you read it..after I write it?” His tone was timid, unlike his natural gruff nature as he picked at the skin around his cuticles out of a nervous habit.

“If you’d like me to read it then I will.”

“Pinky promise?” He softly requested.

You were already offering him your pinky as he slowly wrapped his thicker weathered finger around your own and gently squeezed.

“Pinky promise, Joel.”

Spring was in full bloom now as the earth turned green and sprouted new flowers and life in every corner. Joel was only having to patrol in the early mornings with Tommy. The sun was warm on his skin as he was hunched over in the tall grasses with a leather notebook and pen resting in his lap. Both Tex and Timber were peacefully grazing a short distance away as Tommy was cleaning his rifle. He glanced over at his brother with a curious expression on his face as he watched him scribble something on one of the blank pages.

“Whatcha writin’ in there big brother?” He asked with piqued interest.

“A letter.” Joel murmured.

“To who?”

Joel let out a sigh as he closed the notebook on the pen before looking over at his younger brother.

“Tess.”

Tommy had an unreadable expression on his face as he tightly nodded. For a moment Joel thought his brother had nothing else to say until a hand reached out and gently squeezed his shoulder.

“Say hi to her for me. Will ya? Miss the hell outta her.” Tommy mumbled softly.

“Me too. I miss her a lot. I just hope she’s with her husband and son. Hope they’re all together.” Joel responded mournfully as he opened the notebook once more.

Tommy felt a tear slowly roll down his cheek before he quickly wiped it away.

Godspeed Tess.

Joel found himself getting lost in his present thoughts and emotions as he poured his heart out onto the parchment. His words bled like the ink from his pen that was clutched tight in his fist. His knuckles transformed to a stark white shade.

Hey, Tess. It’s Joel. I’ve never fuckin’ written a letter in my goddamn life, so I apologize if this is absolute horse shit. I’ll salvage what I can. It’s the least I can do for you Tess. Anyway, lately i’ve found myself doin’ a lot of reflectin.’ Can ya believe that? Me? Joel hardass Miller expressing his emotions? Ellie and I made it to the fireflies. I’m sure by now you know what happened so i’ll spare the details. Do you remember when you told me to save who I could save? Well, I did. I saved her. I’d do it all over again if I had to. Man, I used to think of that kid as cargo. Now, I think of her as if she was my own daughter. They were gonna kill her, and I couldn’t let that happen so I did what I had to do. Ain’t proud of it, but she’s alive and that's all that matters to me even though she hates me. I couldn’t live without her. The truth is, I wish you were here. You’d love Jackson. This community has it all figured out. We coulda lived a life at peace together, you and me. You deserved the world, and I'm sorry I could never give that to you. You never asked anythin’ of me. Never begged me to feel for you back, but fuck, I loved you. I loved you Tess. I think you knew. It was unspoken between us, but it was there. I should have told you when I had the chance. Well, I'm tellin’ ya now. I know one day I'll get to thank you for savin’ Ellie and I. You went out a fuckin’ hero. You’re the reason why I'm alive. I know I need to forgive myself for your death. I know I can’t go on livin’ and blamin’ myself. It’s hard. It’s so fuckin’ hard, but i’m going to try. I hope that you are at peace. Y’know I ain’t believe in there bein’ a Heaven, but I hope that’s where you’re at. I hope your husband and son are there with you. I hope you get to hug them tight. Sarah too. Bill and Frank. I hope you’re all together now. If you see my baby girl, can you please tell her that daddy loves her? Keep her safe. Hold her close f’me.

I’ll see ya again one day. Till then, I'll do better. I promise.

- Your Texas

Joel let a few tear drops drip along the paper before he wiped them away. He felt a weight being lifted off his shoulders as he was releasing the burden that weighed him down. It lifted from his being, floating like a cloud in the sky as it dissipated to dust. Tess never blamed him for her death. She never held it against him. She only wished that she had more time with him in this cruel unforgiving world.

When Joel returned from patrol in the late afternoon, he found himself in your shop. The door was propped open with a heavy ceramic pot as a warm spring breeze drifted past his covered shoulder blades. Your shop was peacefully quiet sans the record player crackling to the tune of Queen. The song playing was ‘You’re My Best Friend’

How sweetly fitting.

He could hear your soft humming through his good ear as he walked around the counter. “Beanie? Y’back here darlin?’” His voice traveled like the breeze as you looked up from the mug you were currently painting. Normally you’d paint in your shed at home, but today you decided to kill some time and paint at the shop.

“I’m back here Joel.” You softly responded as your paint brush delicately dragged across the ceramic.

The first thing you noticed was Joel’s bare arms in your peripheral and the way his hair had one stray curl that dangled over his forehead in a soft swoop. His cinnamon brown eyes landed in a soft gaze across your face as he leaned his arm up against the wall. You liked to call this stance the ‘Joel lean.’ Although, this information was kept private.

“What’re you paintin’ today?” He asked intriguingly.

“Vines and tiny little flowers.” You held the mug up in his direction so he could observe what you had completed so far.

“Beautiful.” He rasped. “Listen, you got any plans this evenin?’” He was fidgeting with his fingers now as he awaited your response.

You gently set the mug down on the little drying table before wiping your hands on your paint stained apron. “I was going to head home in an hour or so to make dinner and then settle in with a good book probably. Why do you ask?”

“Come with me to the Tipsy Bison.” He blurted out suddenly, catching you off guard.

“I’ve never been.” You murmured sheepishly.

“S’okay. You ain’t even have to drink. Jus’ would love to share your company. There’s music n’dancin.’ There’s no pressure or nothin’ but it would be fun.”

Was..Joel Miller asking you out on a date right now? An unofficial-official date?

Am I askin’ her out on a date right now?

Yes, you are.

No. I ain’t.

You are.

“Won’t I stick out like a sore thumb if I'm not drinking?” Truthfully you were looking for a way out of this. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to go spend time with Joel. You were just intimidated by the thought of having to socialize with other community members of Jackson. You could already feel your anxious thoughts creep up and stain your mind with self-doubt.

“Darlin.’ everyone there is g’nna be too drunk to care. If anyone has somethin’ to say, they can say it to me. Again, no pressure. I don’t wanna stress ya out or anythin.’”

Be still, my foolish heart.

You chewed down on the inside of your cheek, gnawing on the soft flesh as you could taste copper beading along your tongue. How bad could it really be? Besides, Joel wouldn’t let anyone fuck with you. Maybe he would even share a dance with you?

Be still, my foolish heart.

“Okay.” You finally responded. “I’ll come with you, on one condition.”

“Name your price darlin.’” He was holding back his grin that was threatening to spread across his lips.

“You have to dance with me at least once.” You requested.

“Deal.” He didn’t even falter on his response as he outstretched his hand towards you to grasp. “We’ll dance the night away.” He shot you a subtle wink.

His hand was warm in your grasp as he gently eased you up from the chair you were sitting in. You could feel the rough ridges from years of scarring, but despite this, his hands were beautiful. The ridges reminded you of mountain peaks that would nearly touch the clouds. His scars were littered about like constellations in the night sky. Some were deeper than others and you could only imagine how many times the skin on his knuckles had been split open. How many times they bled, how many times he’d hiss under his breath as the healing scabs would flake off.

How would he react if he saw your own scars? Would he shy away or would he trace them delicately? Kiss the pain away with gentle words. Promise you that no harm would come upon you again. Would he hold you close? Murmur into your hair an oath kept against his heart. Would he protect you? Kill for you?

Of course he would.

You just hadn’t a clue what this night would bring.

One thing was for certain, you were eager to find out.

Banners made by the lovely @saradika 🤎

Tex, Tess, and Timber:

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kingkunigami · 1 year

Text

This started as me wanting to ride Kunigami’s thighs and just ended up being angst I’m sorry.

Warnings: 18+, thigh riding, subtle angst.

Pairing: Kunigami Rensuke x f!reader.

Word Count: 1.2k.

Moments with Kunigami were few and far between since he’d joined BLUELOCK. Making the time you had together even more precious as you coaxed your boyfriend into the warm bubble bath you’d prepared moments earlier. A playful hand tugging at the hem of his sweats as he lay a playful swat against your ass, following you in tugging off his clothes to sink into the tub. The warm water instantly soothing his aching muscles as for the first time this month he wondered whether he really needed to attend training today.

Climbing in on top of him, you straddled his thighs, pressing your chest to his as you let yourself embrace the moment. The only sound was the gentle wade of water paired with Kunigami’s soft breath.

You could feel his desire poking against you, his semi-hard cock throbbing with need as you allowed yourself to brush against it. His strong arms circling around you to follow your movements, a deep groan tumbling from his lips as he lay his head against the back of the tub.

“I missed you this week,” You mumbled, pressing a soft kiss to his lips, “You’ve been gone a lot.”

Kunigami winced at the somber look on your face, the guilt he already felt for shifting his focus to the program instead of you weighed heavy on his mind.

“I’m sorry,” He mumbled, “It won’t be forever.”

It was a lie you both kept telling yourselves, a lie that had convinced you that everything would be okay. But for now you had each other, a stolen moment before you were thrust back into reality as you willed yourself to forget for just a moment.

Pressing a slow, sultry kiss to his lips as you began to grind yourself against his thighs, the water giving your clit a subtle stimulation as you felt Kunigami begin to press wet, open-mouthed kisses along the column of your neck.

The water inside the tub sloshed as you ground yourself against your lover, the steam from the bath created a hazy mist inside your small bathroom as you felt Kunigami bend his leg at the knee. Moving it out of the water as the cool air caught against his skin, lifting you with him as your naked cunt pressed against his thigh.

You tried to ignore the way he moved you against his thigh, instead of letting you sink down onto his cock. Knowing that before training he preferred to keep the pent up frustration inside him, telling you it made for better gameplay. A fact you continued to remind yourself of so you didn’t cry yourself to sleep when he wouldn’t touch you like he used to. But you allowed yourself to revel in this moment right now as you matched his movements, pressing yourself down against firm muscle.

The air felt stagnant as you struggled to breathe, almost suffocating as you felt the heat continue to rise. Your nails pressing crescent shaped moons into Kunigami’s shoulders as he kept his arms wrapped around your waist.

“You okay, pretty girl?” He rasped, the cool timber to his voice had your cunt clenching around nothing as you tried desperately to follow the sound.

“I— ngh, yeah.” You buried your nose into his neck to hide your flushed cheeks, focusing on the way your clit was pressed against the strong muscles in his thigh.

The scent of him was intoxicating as you allowed yourself to drown in it, your skin soaked with a thin sheen of sweat that pinned you to Kunigami.

“So pretty like this,” He hummed, “So good for me.”

Kunigami was a selfless lover, always putting your pleasure before his own. But it was always in such a warped, twisted way. He was always relentless in making you come undone before he even thought about his own pleasure, as though watching you reach that euphoria was pleasure enough. But since he’d joined BLUELOCK you wondered whether he did it out of desire or necessity.

Calloused fingers dipped into your soft curves, squeezing at the fat of your hips as you ground yourself against his leg. The saccharine sound that spilled from your lips had Kunigami bucking his hips, increasing the pressure between your thighs as he felt the prevalent throb of his neglected cock.

Kunigami nosed the side of your cheek, eager for you to sit up so he could see your pretty face. To watch the way your lashes flutter each time you catch your clit against a particular ridge of his firm thigh. Your slick drooling from your needy cunt as you soaked his skin, making it easier for you to rock your hips against him.

“Gonna get yourself off on my thigh, sweetheart?” He hums, reaching up to cup one of your soft breasts as he thumbed your hardened nipple.

Pulling your head back from his neck as you kept your eyes shut, focusing on the pleasure coursing through your veins as you neared your own bliss.

“Let me see those pretty eyes.” Kunigami whispered, brushing his nose against yours to garner your attention. Grinning when your gaze met his as he leaned forward to peck your soft lips, “Good girl.”

There was something special about moments like these, the times where you didn’t have to share your boyfriend with anyone else. Where you could convince yourself that he was all yours, and you were his.

But you knew you’d lost your Kunigami a long time ago, ever since he’d been selected for BLUELOCK. The man you loved was trapped, begging you to help him find himself. And you were trying, but for now you had these little moments like this. Where the only thing that mattered was the two of you together.

“Want you, Ren.” You mumbled, worrying your bottom lip between your teeth as you worked yourself towards your bliss, “Need you—”

“You’ve got me, sweetheart.” He whispered, his slender fingers slipping between your bodies to press quick, constant circles to your clit, “You’ve always got me.”

You tried to ignore the lie that seemed to flow so effortlessly from his lips as he guided you towards your peak. White spots blanking your vision as you began to convulse against his digits, riding out your climax as he continued to stroke gentle circles against you.

Your hand reached beneath the water to wrap around his thick cock, making Kunigami hiss through clenched teeth as he bucked into your touch. The water sloshing over the edge as you began to stroke him gently, the pad of your thumb swiping against his slit as a gruff groan rumbled deep in his chest. You moved to position yourself above him, preparing to feel the ache from the stretch of him— a sensation you were beginning to forget.

Until the familiar alarm began to blare on his phone, the sound like a death march as he cursed beneath his breath. Slipping out from beneath you and out of the warm bath as he stood naked in the small bathroom. Droplets of water trickled down his toned body as he reached for a towel, wrapping it around his hips as he leaned down to give you a final, lingering kiss to your lips.

Training always came first, a fact that you’d slowly begin to accept and realise. But as you lay alone in the tepid water, you wished it didn’t have to be this way. You’d never make Kunigami choose between his dream and you, it would be selfish to even ask that of him.

But deep down, it was also because you knew you wouldn’t like the answer.

#kunigami smut #kunigami x reader #rensuke kunigami x reader #kunigami x you #rensuke kunigami smut #bllk smut #blue lock x reader #blue lock smut #bllk x you #bllk x reader

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fhrlclln · 2 years

Note

Okay but phone sex with older!eddie like he knows you're trying to keep quiet because your parents are downstairs but he wants to hear you moan his name. He wants to hear the sounds your hole is making as your fingerings yourself to what he's saying to you.

older!mechanic! eddie x fem! reader + phone sex

another day, another slutting for older! eddie ;>

nsfw/smut under the cut

｡･:*˚:✧｡

“you okay there, sweetheart?” eddie’s static voice spoke through the brick phone you were holding against your ear. you sighed, bored out of your wits. ever since your parents came home from their vacation, the result of almost getting caught was taking a toll on you. eddie managed to look unfazed of what had almost happened the last few days, everything seemed fine but for you, the worst part is that you can’t see him. since your parents are mostly at home now, and now the only that you can get in contact with him is by phone most nights.

“i am.” you quietly responded, the background noise of your television filling in the silence of the room. lately, you felt needy. it had occurred to you how much you missed the man and his beard between your legs— especially his cock and maybe his presence overall. eddie seemed to notice your dull tone, he chuckled as he sat up from his bed, pushing his curtain to see your room with the lights dimmed. he smirked at that.

“bullshit.” he teased as you rolled your eyes at him. “tell me what’s bugging you, baby.” he softens his voice, a smile on his lips as eddie sat back on his bed, fishing out a joint from his drawer. lighting up with ease as he relaxed on his bed, shirtless and in his boxers. a little horny hearing your voice.

your heart started to palpitate, a warmth brushed along your cheeks, still a little shy to admit this. “it’s nothing…”

“c’mon, you acting all shy now? let me remind you i fucked you for—“

“eddie!” you scolded him, huffing a sigh. “alright, i-i miss you.”

“see? it wasn’t that hard. you miss my old ass?” he chuckles, low and timber that you love. it sounded so soothing against your ear, a little tingle between your legs.

“yes. very. my room’s cold without you.” you lowered your tone as well. eddie huff a smoke out, tilting his head back hearing your eagerness. your fingers danced around your shirt, waiting for him to speak.

“getting frisky, are we?” he hums, exhaling the weed out. feeling himself get into the high, a wonderful combination with the sound of your voice next to his ear. he could jack off to this. a heavy silence transpired, you hear his shaky exhale as your hand lowered to your crotch, tempting to slip your fingers in, yet held yourself back feeling shameful you’d get off with his voice.

“you needy, sweetheart? let me help you.” your eyes widened a bit, unexpected that he had read your mind. you stuttered as eddie laughed again. you were a little embarrassed at the prospect of having phone sex when your parents are literally in the living room.

“tell me what you’re wearing right now.” he starts, putting his phone in the crook of his neck, head tilting to the side to keep the phone in place as he shamefully put his hand inside of his boxers. “c’mon, sweets.” he urges.

you blushed, giving in. “wearing a shirt and panties.” eddie hummed against the phone as you continued. “the same panties you liked on me… white lace and a little pink bow on top of my crotch.”

“yeah?” he groaned, squeezing his cock. imaging it right now. he could taste the memory of cumming on those killer panties. he should’ve stoled those when he had the chance. next time.

“y-yeah.” you bit your lip, his voice like heaven to your ears. your fingers fiddled the hem of your panties as eddie shoved his boxers down. freeing his aching cock making him shudder, you could hear him, feeling yourself get wet knowing he’s about to jerk himself off. you waited, wanting him to urge you as you can hear him shuffle from the phone. your thighs rubbed against each other, knowingly glancing to your window, seeing his window there, imagining him in his bedroom, fucking his cock with his hand. god, you didn’t know if you were jealous by his hand or turned on. maybe both.

“touch yourself, sweets.” your breath stilled hearing the command, his voice dark and rich as it sent shivers up your spine. the room feeling a little hot now as you slipped your fingers underneath your damp panties, gasping as you touched your swollen wet clit. you circled your entrance, gathering your slick. finally rubbing yourself wet as you moaned. eddie groaned as he fists himself hearing your little breaths of air through his ear. “and let me hear those pretty moans.”

you obliged, following his every request and demand. he was now urging you to tell him what you’re doing to your cunt, and he’ll tell you what’s he’s sinfully doing as well in return. explicit details how hard his dick is for you. your forehead glistens with sweat, your brick phone is now pinched between your head and shoulder as your other hand fingered yourself, mimicking the way you remembered how he fucked his cock into you. eddie took in every moan, whimper, mewl and each breath you took, deliciously blasting through his ear as he jerked himself off. it was like porn but in audio form! way better than porn for sure, it was you.

“can you hear it, sweets? hear how much i missed you too?” he mutters, fisting his cock faster, the wet sounds coming from his precum and spit and his hand. you keened at it as you sped your fingers up faster, curling them in as you rubbed against that spongey spot that eddie knew to pound in repeatedly. your eyes fluttered closed, listening closely to his sounds, your shirt was ridden up, breasts peaking, nipples hard, remembering every detail how he first fucked you good.

“eddie.” you breathed out, his name on your tongue like wildfire to his heart.

“louder.” he groaned out. you whimpered, shaking your head as if he was here.

“m-my parents, eddie. they could hear—“

“i said louder.” his voice turned serious as you let out another moan for him, thankful that the fucking tv in your room was loud.

“e-eddie, please.” you groaned out, circling your clit rougher as your fingers sped up.

“that’s it, baby.” he groaned. “keep fucking yourself. put the phone near your pussy so i can hear it loud and fucking clear how much you missed me.”

“mhm, eddie.” you moaned out his name, making him let out a curse. you sat up, back leaning against your bedframe as you bended your knees up, fingers still in your cunt as you laid the brick phone in front of you. you quietly moaned out his name again, thrusting your two fingers up faster, the squelching noise of your hole and juices like music to his ears. he thrusted his hips up, bangs sticking on his forehead, the sound of cunt driving him wild as he jerked his cock harder, feeling his balls tighten. you could still hear him from your phone, focusing on the shuffling even though the tv was noisy.

“that’s it— shit, yeah, fuck— keep doing that, baby. be a good girl and cum. fuck—“ he threw his head back, the impact shaking the wall behind him. it kinda hurt but not nutting would be worser if he didn’t listen to your slutty mouth crying his name out like he’s a god.

“e-eddie, mr. munson. ‘m close!” you begged, using that title again. he always liked that cheeky mr.— even if it made him sound like a creep. it was hot coming from your mouth, who wouldn’t be turned on by that?

“fuck yourself faster, sweets. say my name again.” he urged and you nodded, letting it all out. you whimpered, gasping out, your fingers felt good but you missed his thick fat cock. you felt so empty without him. your belly tightened, your hips thrusted up to your fingers as you rubbed your bean faster, accommodating your rough fingering. eddie groaned out hearing the wet sounds your pussy was making, his ballsack throbbed as he rutted his up, imaging he was fucking your cunt up like he did last time.

your walls tighten around your fingers. “cumming—“

“fuck, yeah, cum—“ the distant sound of him from the phone done it all. you almost cried out— yet clamping your mouth shut as you came. eddie let out a long shameful moan you could hear muffled by the brick phone. his cum shot out, painting his stomach as he inhaled the air. you hummed, lazily grabbing your phone as you took off your panties and toss them away. you could heard the shuffling from the other line, you smiled.

“feeling better, baby?” eddie asked breathily as you snuggly laid back down on your bed. “you made me cum so hard.” he added as you giggled.

“i did. thank you, eddie.” you hummed, looking back at your window. “my panties are soaked.” you teasingly added, faking a pout, noting another groan from him. you laughed as eddie chuckled, loving the way you were better now. but there was just one missing piece that was missing for him as he whispered it you on the line.

“you think you could throw me those panties right now to me by the window, sweetheart?”

“eddie!”

｡･:*˚:✧｡

i need to write another getting dick down by older! eddie, gals.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x fem! reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson smut #older!eddie #mechanic!eddie #joseph quinn #stranger things #stranger things season 4 #stranger things imagine #fnhrlcllnwrites #eri’s quick ideas 💡 ｡･:*˚:✧｡#eri’s request box 📦 ｡･:*˚:✧｡

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intothekuni · 3 months

Text

— then teach me

14 : feelings

after you typed that comment, you looked up to see scaramouche annoyed and fuming.

"something wrong?" you asked.

"look at childe's car," he responded.

you looked over and saw columbina making weird faces towards scaramouche. while you smiled, you felt eyes on you. the chatter from the back seat didn't stop but you felt some tension between you and the man you were gaining feelings for next to you.

"hm?" you looked up with confusion.

"um, is it alright if i uh, hold your hand?" he asked bashfully.

suddenly all conversation at the back stopped.

"sure" you responded, extending my hand to interlock with his.

"i ship not gonna lie" lyney suddenly screamed.

"shut the fuck up or i'm switching you with kazuha." scaramouche says, stopping at the red light.

"shiver me timbers."

"absolutely not, y/n, please text kazuha to switch with lyney, i'm gonna lose my shit"

"okay!!" you responded, taking out your phone.

when kazuha got into the car, he was greeted with the silence between the two of you and arlecchino trying not to lose her shit.

"what exactly happened here?" kazuha asked, slightly confused until his eyes trailed down to the conjoined hands, "oh good job scara"

"thank you," he quietly responds, before starting to drive again.

while kazuha was starting a quiet and simple conversation with arlecchino, you feel scara run his thumb over yours. you turned to look away in slight embarrassment as the song was playing "Miss Americana and the Heartbreak Prince" by taylor swift. in order to ease the unspoken tension between the both of you, you tapped his thumb once and asked loud enough for only him to hear.

"what do you usually listen to?" you asked meekly, slightly embarrassed and flustered from the amount of skinship that was currently happening.

"arctic monkeys, cigarettes after sex, uh chase atlantic, can't think of anymore right now." he responds continuing to look at the road.

"thought you might listen to rap and only rap"

"do you think that low of me?? i don't walk around with headphones in all the time either"

"tartaglia says you play arctic monkeys on full blast sometimes"

"that little shit."

"he also said you play the electric guitar, that's quite cool."

"thank you, i play acoustic sometimes too,"

"really?? by chance would you play for me?"

you watched as scaramouche stopped at another red light and his face flushes with a light shade of pink.

"if you want," he says looking at you

"really?? thank you!!"

scaramouche's pov

scaramouche watched as your eyes shined every time you talked about something you liked or if you got the answer you wanted. you're such a pretty person, thinking about it makes him want to throw up. although kazuha told him to give it a shot, he thinks you're too good for him. he thinks you're an angel.

the way you walk, how clumsy you are all the time, the way you eat all the food you hated first before savoring the food you liked, the way you batted your eyelashes, the way you look so concentrated when you take notes that makes you look so cute. it's all so ethereal to him. it makes him feel like a whole swarm of butterflies have been set free from their cage. it feels so pathetic. what is hap-

"scara, the light's green, are you okay? we can go after we drop them off if you want."

the way you looked at him made him want to fold and scream.

"shit sorry, i zoned out. its alright." he responded, pressing the gas.

this is it, he thinks. i'll confess today.

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a/n : hihi! happy late new year~ wishing you great health and hope you get everything you want! stay safe everyone 🩷

taglist : @veekoko @alhaitie @featuredtofu @sakiimeo @neigesprincess @keiiqq @feiherp @tiredslepz @rosieyama @bananasquash @nnasv @mayuumine @kiokiee @beriiov @zukaaa @scaraandxiaoo @brain-r0tt @deepdinosaurwizard @bakugoumei-12

bolded + red = can't tag

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uglypastels · 10 months

Text

Not Wholly Evil |VI| pirate!Eddie au

Happy Fourth of July/Tuesday (depending on what you celebrate).

Series Masterlist

word count: 6.1k

"semi dark fic" - READ the warnings:. (gun/sword)violence. blood. mention of severe wounds. minor character death. allusions to suicide. kidnapping. imprisonment. alcohol. open and deep sea. pirates are pigs: mentions of non-con, but it does not actually occur. malnourishment and weight loss. paranoia. mention of poisoning. abuse. manhandling. lying.

Chapter 6: Shiver Me, Timbers “Why won’t you leave me alone?” “Then I’d be alone, too." ― Leigh Bardugo, Siege and Storm

Despite the fact you had your new room waiting for you upstairs, once Munson left you, all you could force yourself to do was lie down. With deep breaths, you steadied your heartbeat and let a soft slumber fall over you. Just enough to regain some energy and hopefully for the pain to pass.

You fell into a dreamless slumber, simply hovering in an abyss between worlds. It was plain and peaceful. Beautiful, to say the least. Away from all the nuisance and filth that was actually around you. None of the noise.

Just a voice.

It called to you, and your name sounded so lovely coming from his lips. So lovely, in fact, that you awoke with the ghost of a smile still haunting your lips. You wiped it off together with the sleep from your eyes.

The sun still shined, but less brightly so. The shadows grew longer around you as evening came near. As you tried to move, you groaned out, everything feeling stiff and tortured, your side pinching where the skin was trying to heal slowly. The floor was certainly not the place to do so, but fortunately, you would only have to stay there a little longer. Slowly, not wanting to make any erratic moves, you made your way up again. But before you got too far up the steps, already knowing you were not planning on ever returning down there, you grabbed the long sheath of fabric you had used for curtains around your cell.

The difference between the deck from before you had left it was like day and night. No longer was the crew huddled around in groups and yelling and cheering. Playtime was over. Now, all the deck crew were busy cleaning the floors pulling ropes or… well, you were not entirely sure what needed to be done, but they were doing it, and it seemed to be working smoothly. Certainly, they had enough on their plates to be bothered by you walking by… at least, too busy to stop and stare. You still caught a few pained glances. You weren’t sure if you preferred their pity over their anger, thirst or intimidation. It fell somewhere in between, presumably.

On your way up to the quarter deck, you caught sight of Harrington, who was busy pulling at one of the larger ropes at the ship. His shirt sleeves were pulled up, so you could see the strain he put on his arms with each move. His veins were mixed with various scars. Everyone around the ship seemed to have them. Pain was not an option on the Hellfire. It was the price.

Without having a moment to criticise your actions, you called out to him. As he looked up, shocked or somewhat confused, there was a second in which he lost control of the rope. It slipped past his hands and started to unravel. You were ready to run up and help somehow, but he managed to pull it back. The response from the men around him was nothing but unimpressed grunts.

‘I am so sorry,’ you said as you walked up, bunching up the fabric in your arms as pieces fell to the ground. There was more you wanted to say, but you kept it to yourself.

Harrington huffed out. He pulled more of the rope, letting it circle around his shoulder. He was not looking at you as he asked: ‘Are you okay?’

‘I think so.’ You looked down. Now shredded to pieces, the bottom of your shirt had soaked up most of the blood, and the red stain shone like a bright fire against the pale white.

‘Good.’ He nodded once and did not say another thing. ‘I should get back—’ he nodded toward whatever he was trying to pull with the rope, despite never having stopped or looked away.

‘Ah, of course, you stumbled, taking steps back. The message was clear. Why in the world had you approached him? Or tried to glance at him as you walked away? The sheets kept falling out of your arms, and it was a hassle to keep it all together.

‘Do you—’ someone asked, but you quickly shut them up with a decline of whatever offer they were making.

‘No, thank you!’ there was an attempt at civility.

There was no fear this time as you walked up the stairs leading to the captain’s—nay, your—quarters. In fact, you were filled with confidence that you had not felt in a long time. One that even a stab, or a cut, in the ribs, could not break apart. With your hands full, you kicked the door open, perhaps a bit harder than anticipated. Across the room, a pair of eyes shot up to look at the commotion, but they disappeared just as quickly under the curtain of dark bangs.

‘In case you forgot,’ you said, head held high, scrunching the sheet tighter, ‘this is my room now.’

‘The bed is all yours, princess.’ Munson refrained from looking up at you again, instead holding a sensible interest in the papers in his hand. But then he glanced up briefly. ‘Planning on redecorating already?’ He got back to his business.

‘Thought I might need it as another cover, in case the night got cold. Or a pillow.’ You moved towards the bed, still unmade from that morning when you left it. Your dress still hung at the bedpost. The captain nodded at your answer but did not resume the conversation any further.

You had not contemplated this and had very little ability to affect it. You might have won the bed chambers, but the captain’s office still needed use… and considering these were in the same space…

Now, you had dared a lot in your time aboard this ship, including duelling the captain, but seeing how that had turned out, you were not willing to risk such games anymore. And so, you did not try to fight it but instead sat on the bed and stared ahead at the map that hung across from you. The only sound in the cabin was the quill scratching of the captain as he made notes over all his other notes on the topic of more notes.

You did your best to make yourself comfortable on the bed, moving around, shifting your weight from side to side, and pushing the covers and pillows up to give you more support. It was quite noisy, but it had not been done intentionally. Despite what your amusement might have come from the agitated looks of the captain could say on the matter.

‘Is this what you’re planning on doing with your day?’ He mumbled, still not looking at you. It was as if he didn’t dare catch your eye any longer, but that did not stop him from talking to you like before.

‘I am simply trying to make myself comfortable,’ you said, fluffing a pillow, slapping it as hard as possible. Some of the feathers flew out with it.

‘And must you do that while I am working?’ He put down some of the papers in frustration.

‘Remind me,’ you leaned back, the fluffed pillow doing very little in favour of your back, ‘what is it exactly that a sea urchin like you does?’

The captain sighed and leaned back on his throne. It seemed smaller than the first time you saw it. Less… menacing. ‘Well, making sure that things are run tight on the ship so we don’t die at sea in a crash of fire and timber, for a start. Then, just on the side, I am trying to find the fastest route to bring the princess home. Sound like a good day’s job?’ He spat your nickname out, and hearing that anger made you feel sicker than ever you had heard it before. So, you didn’t reply to him but turned your head the other way, facing the disorganised shelves of books. With one astronomy volume missing, the rest still looked on the brink of falling apart. It was stomach-churning to look at, and the next two minutes you spent in silence were enough to make your mind up.

You got up on your feet too fast, sending a rush of pain into your ribs and a dizzying sensation into your brain, but once that faded, you made your way over to the books and started picking them out, one by one. Each fell loudly on the ground. It took four of these deafening drops for Munson to get up and shout: ‘What are you doing?’

‘Redecorating,’ you made a quarter of a turn and looked as naively at him as possible.

‘And you think the books will look better on the ground?’ He was already stepping away from his seat, half behind his desk and ready to leap to the books.

‘No, but I do think they would look better organised.’ You pulled out a few more books, each falling on top of the previous.

‘They—’ Munson stormed over to you, mumbling in curses about God and whatnot. ‘They are organised.’ He pulled the book you had just picked up out of your hand. Suddenly, there wasn’t an entire room between you, but only a few inches, and it all became a bit too real as his presence was always so quick to tower over you. ‘Meticulously so, may I add.’ He put the book back where it belonged. You took another look at the books, apprehensive of the statement.

‘Then, please, enlighten me on this system.’ From what you had observed, none of it made sense. Munson contemplated beginning what you could only assume was an excruciatingly long and painstakingly precise explanation of this system but stopped himself mid-first syllable: ‘I do not have time to entertain you. Stay away.’ He backed away. ‘And put those back as you found them...Please.’ It was a miracle he had learned that word.

‘Fine,’ you spat out, only to then ask much more calmly, ‘can I at least read them?’ You doubted these books had fulfilled any of their purposes in a long time. Munson may indulge in the accessorisation of his bookshelf, but he did not seem to be much of a reader since there was nothing else to do on this blood-boiling ship…

‘Yes, alright, if it keeps you quiet.’ He waved you away dismissively as he got back to the desk. You watched how he moved, hand rubbing over his jaw as he scratched at the stubble that was apparently becoming a common characteristic of his now. That was combined with the blood red of his knuckles as if he had hit something hard. You wondered where the damage was—clearly not in this room, as you could not see any broken furniture, walls, or shards of anything.

It hurt to bend over, so you manoeuvred to sit down and slowly put the books back in their designated spot. All you could do to ignore the lingering stare you were given from Munson was to try and organise the books in your head. Epic poetry could go on the top shelf, followed by the sciences. Map journals would go below that, and then… then the diary logs. Were those his? Highly unlikely he would leave his own writings out in the open like this and then let you read them. You picked one out at random.

It was bound in black leather, nothing written on it, but inside, the pages were clearly used and covered in ink, ready to fall out as you opened it. You glanced at the first page. The scribbling was barely unintelligible. For one, the handwriting the original scrivener had put down was tiny and messy, but also because any other free space on the page was used with notes in a different hand. The annotations were made in different ink, though both were black naturally and the letters a bit more manageable. They mainly consisted of deciphering the words that had originally been written, and soon you were to find out that the handwriting was one of many obstacles in understanding the text.

It was a code.

All of it, and someone had taken a painstaking amount of time to decode all the cryptic messages left.

‘Who is this Captain James?’ You asked as you walked to the chair before the desk since the bed only felt okay for lying in. Munson did not look up as you made yourself comfortable before him.

‘Old Man Jim, captain of the Gold Tiger,‘ he sighed, only briefly glancing up to catch any sign of recognition on your face, which was lacking, and so he continued. ‘I’m surprised your father had not told you anything about him; he was quite renowned for his… expeditions. Stole from any family he came to contact with, then buried all his treasures somewhere before disappearing—not before writing it all down in here, however.’

‘He wrote down how to find the treasure?’ You raised a brow.

‘Among other things.’

‘Why let me read it then? What if I figure this out?’

‘Two simple reasons, princess,’ he put his quill down and, crossing his arms, looked directly at you. ‘Whoever had decoded his messages in the first place was probably even cleverer than Jim, so it’s all just more riddles for you to figure out and second… it’s been decades since he wrote that journal. The treasure is long gone.’

‘What do you mean it’s gone?’

‘As in, taken. No longer there.’ He blinked. ‘Now, if you will excuse me.’ He reached for the apple that stood on top of a pile of parchments, but you were quicker. Munson stared blankly at you as you leaned back in your chair and bit it into it proudly.

‘Did you, by any chance, hit your head during our match?’ He watched you flip more of the pages in the journal. The notes were, indeed, all written in another code. He briefly explained his question: ‘You seem… different.’

‘No, I suppose you simply rubbed off on me.’ Like a disease. You smiled.

‘Well, then, I’m glad my company has favoured you in some way.’ He wrote something down with his quill as you glared at him and snapped the momentary silence with a bite of the apple. Then, he got up and pushed his throne back, scraping the wood horribly. ‘I’m sad to admit I can’t spend more time enduring your questions, but I’m required somewhere else.’

‘Coincidentally, I’ve been waiting for you to say that since I walked in.’

‘I’m very happy to see you still have your sense of humour.’ He got up. ‘But will you be keeping the shirt?’

‘I don’t have anything else to wear,’ you weren’t planning on putting the dress back on. After spending half a day in these trousers and shirt, you realised the torture of all the other layers. The weight of it all alone.

‘Hadn’t stopped you before.’ Munson nodded over to the wardrobe.

‘You want me to take your clothes?’ You ate some more of the apple.

‘I’m sure it’s more preferable than being covered in blood.’

‘It is not us troublesome as you’d imagine, actually,’ then you looked up at him again with realisation, ‘unless… are you bothered by it, captain?’

‘I’m alright.’

‘Great. Then that is settled.’ You leaned back in the chair and took another bite of the fruit. The sweetness of it was like a reward for everything you had to put up with. Munson clenched his jaw, but there was little else he could do, so he walked away just as he had announced. You ignored his walk towards the door and only moved once you heard the familiar door closing behind him. Not wanting to waste a moment, you got up, ignoring that stitch in your side again, and moved across the desk. It had been naive to think that when you looked down, you would find the drawer still open, but as luck would have it, it actually was.

However, not all the luck was on your side because when you pulled the drawer open, you only saw the bottles inside—now counting one less than in the morning, but only bottles nonetheless. The piece of the letter was gone. You searched underneath the glass to ensure, even under the desk and its surroundings.

Glancing up at the door every few moments and listening to what was happening outside, you carefully poked around at the things on the bureau. No, it was definitely gone.

Munson must have moved it. You cursed at yourself. Then, did he also know you had seen it? You knew it was wrong to go through his belongings, but you did not feel any guilt. That had left you when you were thrown in that cell all those days ago.

And so, you kept looking, cursing him after going through every book on the shelf and not finding it, then through the nooks of the wardrobe as you picked out a new shirt to wear, throwing the old one on top of the captain’s throne. It was somewhat of a sensitive operation, this search. You tried to be inconspicuous about it and let it spread over the next few days, making sure you did not make too much of a mess as you went through the drawers and items lying around to not cause any suspicion. Most of the days, looking went by in the exact same way.

You did not know if the captain went in on your deal and slept in the cell or elsewhere. It did not really matter, either, since all that was important was that you got to sleep in a bed. He could sleep with the sharks for all you cared. Either way, he seemed well-rested. When you would awake each morning, the captain was usually already at his desk, your breakfast at the table, and you would eat it as he worked. Trying not to take up too much of the other’s space, only interrupting it with minor remarks here and there that would make you simultaneously laugh and grind your teeth with annoyance. Sometimes, other crewmen would walk in to discuss various matters, ignoring you for the most part. You listened but barely weight in on the conversation, more so out of a lack of interest than anything.

The contributors in these meetings would vary, depending on the issues to be discussed, but Harrington and Robin would frequently be a part of them, clearly having a larger role in the crew than you had anticipated. Robin would sometimes ask your opinion, much to the shock of the others and yourself.

You looked up from your book, wide-eyed and taken aback, pretending to not know what they were speaking of, as if you had not been listening intently to every word.

‘I would say, go West.’ Mostly you would agree with Robin's suggestion, just to see Munson scowl, think it through once more, and eventually settle on the same answer himself.

Harrington would not even look your way. You had noticed him going out of his way to stand with his back towards you, eyes always on the captain. You could not even understand why it bothered you so much, seeing you had only spoken once before all this; you felt a gnawing feeling in your gut… or maybe it was only the wound at your ribs.

In the ongoing days, you checked how it was healing, and it seemed fine. Magically, there was no infection, maybe thanks to the alcohol you had poured over it. Finally, it was barely visible beside a paling bruise around it and the scar— large but still thinner than the ones you saw carried around by others on board. Maybe one day you would even forget it was ever there.

In the hours when it was just you and him, it was mostly quiet. You’d both read, only a desk between you, barely paying attention to the other until one would leave the room. Usually, he would do so first, and you’d take the opportunity to search for that cursed letter.

Other times, you’d grow tired, or your legs would become stiff, and you’d go out onto the deck first, leaving the captain to work on his own. Then afterwards, you’d return to the cabin, and your dinner meal would be waiting for you on the desk, and you’d read until sleep took over. You’d wake up the following day, and everything would start over.

When you were outside, you would mostly keep to yourself, knowing that the last thing the crew would want to deal with is to talk to you, and in your case, you had very little to say to them. Really, the only person you spoke to was Buck—or Robin, as she also went by, you had noticed—whenever she was not in her nest. You’d find a little less crowded spot on the ship and talk about whatever came to mind, or at least that is what you wanted it to sound like, while you tried to find out more about her, the rest of the ship and the captain.

‘So, how long have you been apart of this crew?’ It was a warm afternoon, a typical summer’s day, but the clouds had been appearing more and more recently and had now taken centre stage in the sky. The wind picked up, too, as you sat down with Robin. You wanted your questions to sound off the cuff and not as if you had been noting them down in your mind at night. Unfortunately, Robin was not the easiest to get information out of… well, depending on what kind of information you sought since she tended to talk a lot but not say much with her words.

‘I honestly don’t remember when it was; it must have been years, time moves weirdly when you’re out on the sea, but I was dragged into it when bloody King Steve—’

‘King Steve?’ you asked, not recognising the name. Over the few days, she had been mentioning most of the crew, and you had tried to learn them, but this was a new one.

‘Oh, Harrington— we call him that because, uhm he was a royal guard.’

This piece of information shook you. ‘Really?’

‘Yeah, met the king and all that— don’t know which king that was, but apparently, he doesn’t like toasted bread, the king, if you’d believe that. I mean, who does not like toasted bread? That feels like a bigger crime than whatever we have ever done—’

‘What have you done?’ You had quickly realised it was easier to try and keep up with what Robin had to say than revert her back to previous topics, and so, despite your longing for more information about Harrington’s life before Hellfire, you asked about the issue at hand.

‘What haven’t we done,’ she chuckled nervously, ‘but I probably shouldn’t be telling you about that. Don’t think cap would like you knowing.’

‘I am not bothered by what the captain likes or does not like.’

‘Yes, but…’ she struggled to find her words. ‘I mean, he told us—’ Robin faded out, her shoulders stiffened as a harsher wind blew. ‘Did that feel normal to you?’

‘I think so. But he told you what?’ You knew Munson ran a tight ship, but you had not thought he would ban his crew from talking to you about things. Did he have such significant secrets to go so far?

‘Nothing. I didn’t say anything—did I say anything? You should probably ask— no, don’t ask Steve—I mean…’ Thunder rumbled in the distance, and she looked up, but you kept your eyes on her, unphased.

‘I’ll go ask Harrington, then.’ You said, exasperated, as Robin stared out above you without the intention of coming back down.

‘No, don’t! It will only–’ she got up after you, already reaching for your arm, but more thunder echoed with menace like a cannon. She looked around frantically, cursing, then turned back to you. ‘Is the captain upstairs?’

‘I—I think so.’ You couldn’t possibly know except that he had been there when you left, and you had not seen him around the deck since, either. Robin tightened her grip on your arm lightly, subconsciously, before letting go and running off, but not before saying:

‘Just stay here, okay?’ without giving you any moment to respond. It had all happened so quickly that you stayed put for the sake of your own brain trying to catch up on what had happened. Everything that Robin had said, or rather had not said. More clouds appeared, darker than their usual counterparts that had followed your journey. The wind picked up as well.

‘What happened to Buck?’ A not-so-familiar-anymore voice asked behind you. You turned to see Harrington, Steve, whatever his name was. His shoulder was already almost against yours. How you had not even heard him walk so closely up to you was a wonder. But since he was here already… Robin had told you to not move, so you remained where she left you.

‘She— I’m not sure; she heard thunder and ran off to speak to the captain.’ Exactly then, as if you had cued it, a lighting strike appeared, slashing through the sky like a knife. The thunder followed behind at its own pace.

‘I’m sure it’s nothing,’ Harrington comforted, ‘she’s probably notifying him of the weather.’

‘Well, I doubt he missed that,’ you said, breathing in slowly, washing off the skip in your heart that came with the lightning.

‘Not an enjoyed of storms?’ Harrington observed.

‘More when I am not about to sail right into it.’ You had heard too many stories of ships going missing in waves, being washed away by the rain, or burned by the fire that came with lightning. It did not feel inviting.

‘We’re not,’ Steve reassured you, ‘we will probably turn around, find somewhere to wait it out.’ And you would have believed him, certainly appreciated his efforts in comforting you, except you knew that Hellfire was nowhere near any safe piece of land or calm water. Not to mention, the wind was blowing you in the direction of those lightning strikes. Where else were you to go? But when the thunder boomed over you, it still felt reasonably far away. There was time, so you focused on issues much closer to you. Specifically, shoulder-to-shoulder.

‘She told me something quite interesting, you know.’ You said, looking out ahead at where the clouds were the darkest. Yes, that must be miles away.

‘Robin says a lot of interesting things.’ He had already distanced himself by several inches.

‘Well, it was more what she had not said, or rather, could not say, that was so interesting.’

‘I’m not sure I follow.’ Steve said, clearly nervous. That was visible enough by the way how he started to look around.

‘I got this feeling that there were, or rather, there are, things people are keeping from me, on behalf of the captain.’

‘We’re all simply following orders.’ Harrington sighed.

‘So what are you orders then?’ You looked him directly in the eyes. His were brown too, much like the captains, and yet entirely different. Colder, darker, and yet as inviting.

‘I can’t—’ He took another step back, looking up at the quarter-deck as if he had been caught red-handed stealing. But there was no one there or paying attention to the two of you. Not when the clouds grew larger and darker and the air felt denser. That density only came with rain. ‘Look, he means the best for you.’

‘We both know that is a lie. He doesn’t care about me.’

‘He might not be able to show it—’ More lightning came over you. The thunder followed in mere seconds. It was getting closer and much faster than you had anticipated. Steve looked around at his fellow crew members, who all had the same panic-stricken lines on their faces, and suddenly everything around began to move much faster. ‘Go inside and… and stop whatever you’re doing. Before you get us all into trouble.’ His words didn’t fall heavy onto you. It wasn’t a threat. Because whatever the consequences would be, whatever Munson had promised for going against his orders, was not detrimental. He was not someone that was feared by his people. That much you knew.

Harrington grabbed your shoulder and pushed you towards the stairs of the quarter deck, but you resisted, demanding answers.

‘How do I get us in trouble, what am I doing–’

‘Stop talking, please.’ He was ready to pick you up to get you out of the open air. The first droplets began to fall on your face. They were cool to the touch, a surprisingly nice change from the hot and salty air that came with every day. As the rain fell, you stared deeply into his eyes, hoping it would break a wall in him, but it cracked something in you instead.

‘Did he tell you not to speak to me.’

Harrington said nothing, and in many ways, that was worth more than a million words. And while before he tried to get you upstairs, he now reached for you as you ran up to the cabin, but you were already gone. The rain grew harsher; you walked into the room, door slamming up against the wall, with your hair already glued to your face, which was heating up with anger.

Munson and Robin looked up at you, frazzled.

‘You,’ you raged, ‘had no rights to do that.’ More thunder clapped. The wind rushed by you through the open door. Robin walked up to the window to see the waves crashing against the back of the ship and the rain that poured down into it like a curtain of steel bullets.

‘Buck, go check on the rest; tell them our plan.’ Munson said, composed, ‘and close the door.’ The wind was picking up at all the loose pieces of paper around him. Robin nodded and swiftly made her way out of the room. For the first time, she said nothing to you as she passed, closing the door. Immediately, with the wind now blocked by the walls, it was painfully quiet.

‘There is a lot I do not understand about you, much I do not need to understand, nor want to, but I demand you to explain why you banned your crew from speaking to me.’ Your face was damp from the rain, so who could tell if tears had become mixed between them.

‘I did no such thing,’ he grabbed the loose pieces of paper that had flown away with the wind. He was moving in a rush.

‘We both know that is not true.’ You both walked, meeting in the middle, nearly chest to chest.

‘I do not have time for this, princess.’

‘Well, make time then.’ You could not let this be over. You wanted answers.

‘Do you not see what is happening out there,’ with the last ounce of humour left in him, he pointed at the window, though through the heavy rainfall, barely anything was visible.

Munson walked by your side, and when you went to follow him, not wanting to give up so soon, he turned around, his nose almost smashing into yours. ‘Stay here.’ He growled.

‘No.’ You said back.

‘Stay, or I swear, to all things sacred and not, I will chain you to that bed.’ Between his words, he had found a grip on your wrist, and it tightened with each syllable. You blinked away the flinch of pain, and something about that made him back out. ‘Stay.’ His last word before leaving you was a whisper. It echoed in your mind.

And so, you stayed, kicking at the door with a scream of frustration. Just when you thought that things weren’t as bad when you thought you had found a place for yourself around, a stone was turned, and the truth was revealed, and how much longer could you keep doing this?

Tired and not wanting to fall to the ground, you sat on the bed. A thought occurred to you that you could go around and just destroy everything in your sight. Let the storm take the blame for the mess you would cause, whether it eventually would reach this room or not. You wanted to throw all those books off their shelves, tear his clothing to pieces, burn all those papers on his desk and rip everything off the walls— the maps, the tapestry, the notes—

How long had that been there?

You must have stared at that wall for hours in the past weeks, so why had you not noticed the dagger in the corner of the wall. It was struck deep into the wall, holding up several layers of paper, but the one most recently added, right on top of the pile… you recognised the scorch marks.

Why did this letter stay on your mind for so long? Why did it make you search every inch of this room? You couldn’t quite explain it besides maybe seeing it as a kind of purpose. You had given yourself a goal to find it, and now, as you walked closer, you may have done it.

It had been turned backwards, now only showing an old piece of paper, only adorned by water damage and blackened edges. The knife had been pushed deep into the wood behind it, and you had to pull it a few times before getting it out. Immediately, a stack of paper fell to the ground. You picked them up and put them on the desk but took one back to the bed. There, you searched through the sheet you had taken from the below deck, where you had, hopefully, kept the other note. The one you had found in one of the chests. The one that had kept you sane, giving you a spark of hope for humanity as it reminded you that somewhere in the world, love still existed.

Both papers were damaged, so the fit was imperfect, but the sentences aligned perfectly.

My dearest,

The nights have been cruel, but I spend them thinking of you, and suddenly, the dark sky does not feel so heartless anymore.

I think of your eyes. The sea reminds me of them— it is a calming sight each morning, and I imagine you looking out of your window at the shore, and perhaps we look up at the same clouds, and it is like you are right by my side and the wind feels not as harsh suddenly. More like a kiss straight from your lips.

Some days I hum the words of that song you sang to me. I know what you have said about my voice, and the kind words still warm my heart, but they will never compare to yours. I will never do the melody justice. Only you behold such talents.

To be able to hold you once again, to hear your voice, is the only thing that keeps me strong. I count down the days until I can tell you all these things while you lay in my arms, and I can feel your heartbeat against my palms. But for now, this must make due, sweetest, and I can only hope that when I close my eyes, I will envision you.

The last thing I will say to you is that I still have that dream some nights, the one we spoke of before I left. That we sail away from everything and create our own piece of paradise.

I hope you do too.

Forever yours,

—

The letter's ending had been burned off, concealing its signature, but you did not need to read it. You knew precisely what had once stood there, and upon your realisation, you could not believe that it had taken you this long to see what was right in front of you all along. After all, you had stared at the same handwriting for days in this room. On the notes scribbled in a rush, the margins and annotations of the books, but most importantly, the map you fell asleep staring at, the large cross over your home. It was all one hand.

In shock, you reread the letter, trying to understand what was written there. As you did so, somewhere aboard, fearful yells erupted as the waves grew higher and the wind became angrier, and the rain more painful. Everything felt askew as the ship lost its balance on the water.

Chapter 7

thank you so much for reading!! if you want more of where this came from, check out my masterlist.

and please support your (not so) local creators by liking AND reblogging. I would love to know what you thought of the story, so please consider leaving a comment, or maybe an ask or even an anonymous review ;P

you are also more than welcome to join the Eddie Munson taglist. right here.

taglist (part 1)

@nope-thanks @seventhlevelofhell @strangerfreak @hangmanscoming @blueberrylemontea-fanfic @vintagehellfire @raven-rust @eddiesguitarskills @taccobelle @imjusteddietrashatthispoint @lunar-corgimon

@dorianelizabeth @theletterhart @pastel-abyss-x @ghoulsgraveyard @lovesickollie @xbreezymeadowsx @meaganjm @mischiefmanagers @capybergara @brother-lauren @h0sh1verse @ghostlyreader @croweaterr @ladyapplejackdnd @bilesxbilinskixlahey @liltimmyst @hellfire-state-of-mind @escape-in-time-x @sweetpeapod @eddiemunsonbby @mydearzero @wroteclassicaly @celestialsxturn @hoe4eddiemunson @inanausomewhere @scoops-harrington @fluffyharrington

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson angst #pirate!au #pirate!eddie #pirates #enemies to lovers #slow burn #fanfiction #fanfic #fic #imagine

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transmascaraa · 2 months

Text

♡!200 followers special!♡

"A valentine's dance."

bf!gaming x gn!reader

author's note: this is basically the longer version of the gaming hcs in my last post aka the valentine's day special ALSO 2nd time ever writing a fanfic shiver me timbers😰 i hope it okay btw i'll draw my (genshin or whatever )oc/self-insert tonight cuz i have school in 2 hours and i have a bit of homework left lol

"thank you, lion dance boy."

You and your boyfriend, Gaming, have been dating for a few months now. He loved you very dearly, just as you loved him. You were an inseparable couple, like you were glued to eachother. But, the relationship that you had was healthy, and really sweet. People talked about your closeness to other people, in the streets. You've overhead them quite a few times now. You were a famous couple in Liyue.

A really special date was approaching. The 14th of February, Valentine's day. A day to show your loved one how much you love them, to give them a gift. It was a heartwarming "holiday", for most. Not everyone, but most. And as soon at it sttarted approaching, the streets were bustling with the names of you and Gaming.

Gaming, he planned a dance show for that day, that night. He invited everyone from Liyue, and even other nations! As promised, he would amaze them and make them smile. But that wasn't all that much important to him. You were.

The whole dance show was actually just made so he could give you a rose in a more romantic and surprising way. Yes, it was a surprise. He didn't mention Valentine's day to you for the whole day, but that night...

When it finally came, that night, you started getting ready. Putting on your best outfit, ready to be looked at and praised by everyone. Was it the outfit, or the whole night? Nobody knows. The outfit was one of Gaming's favorite ones for you to wear. Whenever you wore it, he ended up staring at you too much and blushing more than usual. It was interesting, really. How can such a simple outfit make a man's heart go crazy? Make his blood rush to his face, his cheeks? The human body and mind is really impressive.

As soon as you were done getting ready, you got your bag and went out the door. Going to see your precious boyfriend perform on such a special day.

When you got there, everyone had surprised looks on their faces, but positive ones. They got out of the way, and let you stand in the first row out of the thousands of people in the crowd. Like I said, the two of you were really famous there.

Then, music started playing, the crowd went silent. The lights went out. Rose petals started falling out of nowhere from the sky, making it much more beautiful to look at.

Soon, 3 different lights were on the stage. 3

The 2 of them started dancing. They were dancers. Lion dancers.

It was nice seeing them dance, so many moves and talent. It was worth seeing it.

Eventually they stopped, and the third dancer started dancing. He was Gaming, recognizable even in the night. Flawlessly dancing and moving across the stage, everyone was amazed.

A few minutes passed, and the lights turned on again. The 3 dancers bowing down.

"Happy Valentine's day everyone! Here's a rose to a special person in the crowd!" He threw a beautiful red rose to the crowd, and coincidentally, it landed right in your hands.

Smiling, you spoke, "Thank you, Gaming!" and the performance ended there.

After there were only you and Gaming left there, you read a note that was connected to the rose by a beautiful orange string.

"Happy Valentine's day, [name]!" and just as you read it, Gaming said it himself.

"Thank you again, lion dance boy. I loved the performance."

"You're welcome, it was dedicated to you alone. I'm glad you liked it."

~~~~~

YIPPIEEEE I REALLY LIKE IT

i'm not good at fanfics imo but ig i like this one

adorable gaming frfr

#genshin #genshin impact #genshin headcanons #genshin impact headcanons #genshin imagines #genshin fluff #gaming x reader #gaming x you #gaming #genshin impact gaming #genshin fanfic #genshin impact fanfic #gaming x gn reader #gaming x gender neutral reader #⑅⁠čikonyxo's post🎭

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erodasfishtacos · 2 years

Note

I can just imagine him being an absolute horny mess when he’s on his heat and she’s like bro… get your shit together cause their out with friends or something he’s like being really rude to anyone trying to talk to her and he just wants to go home and fuck her senseless

Oh my god but yes. (If you don’t like abo/wolfrry skip this piece!)

He’s never miscalculated his rut before.

Harry had always had to be careful because he was the leader of his pack, he had to plan accordingly for when he was out.

YN wasn’t a wolf, she couldn’t scent him in the way he could scent her - he could smell her heat from days away.

It starts when they’re at dinner with a group of friends, Mitch and Sarah, Niall and Jayla, Zayn and Chelsea, Louis and Eleanor.

Harry’s normally very subdued in public, he hates going out anywhere and wants to be home - safe at their home whenever possible.

He begins to pick up YN’s scent so heavily it’s making him dizzy as she sits next to him - unaware as she’s drinking and laughing.

She smells like the purest piece of heaven on a bad day and right now she was radiating something so beautiful Harry could feel himself hardening up.

This never happened but he was nearly blinded with his arousal for his mate that he couldn’t even care or notice.

At first, YN doesn’t think much of it when his nose nuzzles at the nape of her neck, a low grumble emitting from his chest.

“I think that lip color looks great on you,” Mitch compliments innocently as they discuss makeup and outfits.

“Don’t fucking talk to her,” Harry snaps at his subordinate, Mitch lower his head in confused submission.

“Harry,” YN scolds, pulling him away from her neck with a hand in his hair, his eyes boring into hers with possession and adoration, “Be nice.”

“M’nice,” He rasps unbothered, his lips returning to where he just scented and bit down at base of her neck with enough power to ache, “Treat you so good, don’t I? M’a good mate, yeah? Take care of my little omega. Feed you, bathe you, fuck you.”

“Jesus,” Niall mumbles when he hears the leader trying to seduce her, he shakes his head, and they try to talk loudly enough other tables won’t hear.

This was so unlike Harry that YN was concerned.

“Come with me,” YN tells him, intertwining their hands and leading him into the bathroom and locking the door.

“Yea, good pet,” Harry purrs as his hands go to hike up the bottom of her dress, “M’gonna give it to you right now, stuff you full, yeah? With my pups, gonna give it to you, my mate.”

“Damn it,” YN curses as she slaps his hands away, earning an annoyed growl as his mouth literally waters for her.

“Can smell you,” He taunts in the low alpha bravado, eyes intense and unwavering, “S’dripping down your thighs yet, baby? Let me lick you clean.”

“Are you- fuck, why didn’t you tell me it was time for your rut? Big dumb alpha,” YN hisses as she gives his chest a light smack.

“Submit,” Harry orders in his low timber, his hands back at her skirt - he could basically taste her cunt on his tongue right now.

“Not here, you dick,” YN shakes her head as she takes his car keys from his suit jacket pocket, “We’re not starting your rut in a restaurant bathroom, we’ll never get you out of here.”

“You want it though? Yes?” Harry crows as his hand cups her neck, “Want my pups? Sweet girl, tell me.”

YN’s eyes soften a bit, her hand coming to caress his cheek, “Yes alpha. Let’s get home so I can show you, okay?”

#wolf!harry masterlist #wolfrry #wolf!harry #abo harry styles #abo!harry #harry styles smut #harry styles writing #harry styles #harry styles masterlist #harry styles fic rec #harry styles x reader #harry styles fluff

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bugaboo25 · 8 months

Text

I Will Forever Love You Chapter 3

Masterpost Prev

Thanks for all the kind words everyone, it's really helped keep my motivation up even though my schedule is absolutely crazy!

On to chapter 3:

Damian woke from his slumber as soon as the sun came up. Instead of remaining under his covers, he made his way to the restroom to prepare for the day. It was Saturday, yes, but weekends never meant relaxation for those in Wayne Manor. He grabbed his toothbrush, and, after lathering it to perfection, he began brushing his teeth. Slowly, Damian’s green eyes made their way to his reflection. His hand slowly came to a stop, and so he pulled the toothbrush from his mouth. His lips twitched down, so he stopped staring, stopped searching for a boy that shared his face and simply finished his morning routine.

Once he was dressed, Damian sat on his bed. He reached underneath his mattress, pulling out a well-worn book. Damian allowed his fingers to trace the title: Cosmos by Carl Sagan. Even though he had no interest in the subject, he had read this book dozens of times. He flipped open the cover and stared at his neat handwriting, the last words his brother had ever spoken to him stared back at him. He sat in that manner for a good ten minutes, before flipping to the page that his bookmark currently resided on. He allotted himself twenty more minutes before he once again closed the novel. Damian never understood Danyal’s obsession with stars and the universe, but it was now the only way he could be close to his twin. Before he could carefully put the book back in its resting place, there was a knock on his door.

“Baby Bird, I know you’re up!” Richard was knocking incessantly, so Damian placed his most prized possession on his desk, just out of sight of anyone that stood in the doorway. He opened the door, and Richard was immediately in his personal space. “Come on, the family’s going out for breakfast this morning, Alfred’s orders.” Damian cursed internally, if the butler had ordered they be seen in public for breakfast, then there was no possibility of not going. He allowed himself to be pulled out of his room, but not before shooting Danyal’s book a look of regret. He would have to place it back under his mattress when they returned, he just hoped Richard had not seen it.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dick pulled Damian down the stairs, not letting him go until he was under Alfred’s watchful eye. He laughed to himself, knowing there was no way for him to slip away now. He pulled out his phone, already setting his plot in motion. He shot off a quick text to Tim.

Dickie: wanna mess with Dames?

Timber: always

Timber: what did you have in mind?

Dickie: there was a book sitting on his desk, cosmos or something

Dickie: I gots to know if he’s got a thing for astronomy

Timber: dude

Timber: no way, it’s worn and there’s writing in it

Timber: I am not getting attacked by demon brat again

Dickie: ugh fine what’s it say?

Dick opened the picture that Tim sent, and he had to stifle the sound rising in the back of his throat. I will forever love you -D. What was that doing written in one of Baby Bird’s books? It was his handwriting, that’s for sure. But Damian never said I love you, none of them did. Which, okay, maybe he should put some effort into that, but there’s no way that book was meant for anyone. It was old and worn, and Dick could make out what seemed to be a bookmark at the top of the picture. Did he get it from someone? He must have, but the only person whose name started with D in this family aside from Damian were Dick and Duke, and he didn’t give him the book and Duke sure as hell didn't give it to him. He came to the conclusion that this would require further investigation, then sat down and waited for the rest of the family.

Tim came into the kitchen after Duke, Cass trailing behind him. He caught Dick’s eye, but he simply raised an eyebrow as he made his way to the coffee pot. The door flung open, and if the people in the room had been any other family, they would have jumped. As it was, five sets of eyes turned to look at Jason as he wore a large grin. As time continued forward, the Pit Rage had calmed to a point where he only had episodes a couple times a month. With the knowledge that he had better learned to control it and it was happening less often, Jason had once again started hanging around the manor. Alfred must have invited him to breakfast, as he joined everyone else in waiting for Bruce.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Slipping into the limo with the rest of his family, Tim allowed himself to take some time to consider what he had done that morning. He had been so ready to use Cosmos to tease Damian, but as soon as he saw the state of the book and the neatly written words just inside the cover, he had decided against it. Obviously, the novel was important to Damian, but due to the lack of anything else related to astronomy in his room, he had to guess it was for more personal reasons. If the youngest of the Bats was anything, it was less than receptive when it came to talking about personal matters. He also didn’t want to give Damian any reason to start attacking him again. Sure, it had been years since the last time he was on the stabby end of his katana, and they had gotten to a point where Tim was comfortable teasing him, but he didn’t want to risk anything. If it had only been a book that showed the beginnings of a new hobby, then he would’ve gone to town on the annoying big brother role. But it was obvious from the old, definitely overused pages, that it was something more than that.

Dick would try to pry. He always tackled opportunities to get to know more details about any of his siblings; but Tim would stay out of this. Honestly, he just hoped that he had managed to get the book back exactly as it had been left. Damian was perceptive, and he would definitely notice if his possessions were left even a centimeter out of place. They all would.

“Allioop!” Dick came flying through the door, sprawling out across Tim and Jason, who had sat in the space beside him. Tim swatted at Dick’s hair, and Jason started lightly slapping at his stomach.

“Get off, Dickface! Sit like a normal person, next to met not on me!” Jason was grumbling, a scowl sitting on his features. The fondness that was in his eyes was covered, but not unnoticeable to anyone that was in the vehicle. Tim took that second to check and sure enough, everyone had piled in during his musings. Cass, Damian, and Duke (who was snickering into his hand, the traitor) were sat on the opposite end of the limo, and Bruce was sat in the passenger seat next to Alfred.

Dick pulled himself off of his brothers and threw his arm across his forehead, leaning against the seat and the door. “Oh woe is me, no one appreciates my fun.” He cracked an eye open, and the look he shot towards Jason and Tim was one filled with mirth and amusement.

“I would refute, Richard, but your ‘fun’ often ends with you acting as a if you are a kicked puppy.” All eyes shot to Damian, because holy shit he just dissed one of them in a non-demeaning way. And was that a smile tugging at his lips? It was barely there but – oh my god, it was. Tim’s mouth dropped, because was the demon brat acting like part of the family? “Don’t strain yourself, Drake.” Damian’s tone was biting again, but the ghost of a smile was still on his face, so all Tim could do was make a choking noise as he snapped his jaw shut and looked out the window.

Well, maybe breakfast wouldn’t be a complete disaster.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Bruce made his way to the grandfather clock once they were back at the manor. He allowed himself a small smile, thinking back to the way his children had bickered and teased each other at the restaurant. He was delighted when he had seen Damian having to hold back a laugh after Dick’s fork had been drenched in syrup curtesy of Jason. He was finally beginning to feel as though his family was almost whole with the return of Jason and the breaking down of Damian’s walls.

After slipping into his costume, Bruce set to work. He wanted to sigh, but Tim and Dick had just walked into the cave, whispering at each other. He raised his eyebrow at the hushed tones that stopped once they were in earshot of him. He would have to look into that later, collaborating in whispers between his children never led to positive outcomes.

“Whatcha working on?” Dick never was one to be subtle, but he welcomed the olive branch. He would need help with this case, his suspect was eluding him at every turn, and it was starting to wear on him.

“Vlad Masters.” He already had his files pulled up, so he clicked on the tab that had a picture of the man. He glared at the screen, hoping that the missing piece would reveal itself by just staring at the picture for a little longer. “He’s gone from low millionaire to high billionaire in just under two years. None of his business partners remember their meetings, only that they signed away at least half of their company before he was gone.”

“You think he’s drugging them? Or maybe mind control?” Tim was taking his spot at the batcomputer, already starting his review of the files. Dick was watching over his shoulder, and he hoped that maybe they could find something they didn’t.

Suddenly, Damian was flying over the edge of the stairs and hurling towards them. Bruce simply turned to look, and Dick was ducking away from the 16-year-old’s fist. “Did either of you imbeciles go in my room?” Damian’s tone was angry, though he didn’t attack again. He was getting better at controlling his temper, it seemed. Though, with the way Tim’s shoulders were ever so slightly tense, he guessed that he was the culprit.

“Uh, yeah. It was me. Sorry, Dames, I wandered in this morning on accident. No sleep last night and no coffee yet. You know me. I think I nudged something on your desk, and that’s what kickstarted my brain. I left as soon as I noticed.” Tim’s voice was cool, but Bruce could detect the way his voice was just barely higher than normal. So, he was lying about the reason, then. He would have to ask later.

Damian visibly relaxed, though he was still holding himself with respect. “Fine. Just do not repeat that mistake again in the future, or I will have your fingers.” With that, he was leaving the cave as quickly as he had come down. No doubt Alfred was forcing him to do his homework before he began any work in the cave.

Bruce turned towards Tim with a raised eyebrow and the question on his face. “I saw something I shouldn’t have.” Huh, he must feel pretty guilty about it if he wasn’t even going to try to lie. “Just a book with a message. No big.” Tim was once again looking through the files on Masters.

“Have you looked at any of his connections yet?” Bruce grunted, a silent yes. “What about those from college? It doesn’t seem like he has that many friends, though there’s a couple he used to spend his time with while he was getting his degree.” Another grunt, this time signaling that no, he had not checked his college friends out just yet. Tim opened another tab and pulled up a picture of a large man with black hair next to a shorter woman with ginger hair. They were both wearing ugly jumpsuits. Tim continued to scroll, and it was only a couple pictures down that they stopped.

It was a picture of the Fenton family in a lab. Their daughter, 17 at the time of the picture if Bruce had to guess, was a perfect mix of her parents. She was tall, probably close to 6 feet, with teal eyes and the same hair color as her mother. It was the son that had garnered their attention, though. Because staring at them through the screen was Damian, but a Damian with eyes the exact same shade of blue as Bruce’s and a large grin. His hair was longer, and he was wearing a black hoodie with stains and a ghost symbol hovering over the word ‘Boo!’, but there was no mistaking the skin tone, or the eye shape, or the nose. That was Damian’s face with an unknown expression and different eyes, and it took the three men in the room longer to collect themselves than it should have.

“Please tell me you’re seeing what I’m seeing.” Dick was the first to speak, his eyes shifting between Bruce and the boy on the screen. “Please tell me I’m not going crazy and seeing Dami in the place of a completely different kid.”

“You’re not going crazy.” Tim’s reply was shallow, garbled by the confusion that laced his features. Bruce wasn’t sure what to make of this situation, but Tim was already tapping away, pulling up all the information that he could. “Daniel James Fenton. Age 16. He was adopted by the Fenton family seven years ago… today. He didn’t give anything other than his first name. Just wandered into Amity Park, Illinois with a… with a sword?”

“Hn.” Bruce wanted to lean towards the clone theory, but what would the League of Assassins have to gain with creating a clone of Damian and then sending him to American for seven years?

“It could just be a coincidence, you know.” Dick was calming himself down, his breathing was slowing. “There are supposed to be seven people in the world that look like you.”

“Yeah, plus, look at his eyes. They aren’t the same color!” Tim was almost screaming now. “Totally just a coincidence.”

“Yeah, but that blue is the exact same as Bruce’s…” Dick was leaning forward onto the chair now, careful not to knock Tim off balance. “We… we have to look into this. What if Bruce has another kid!”

“Yeah, but the age… Dames would’ve told us if he had a twin, right?” None of them could answer that question. Damian was a lot of things, but open about his past was not one of them. If the documents were real, then that means that Daniel was out of the League a year before Damian. There was no way to know for sure, and Bruce was positive he would not get the answers from his son.

“Where are the Fenton’s now?” The best course of action was to try and find Damian’s lookalike. They could do DNA testing once they did that.

“They’re… on their way to Gotham for a convention?” Tim had pulled up security footage and the Fenton’s public schedule. “The Paranormal Physiology and Biology Convention, to be exact. It seems both Maddie and Jack, the parents, have doctorates in paranormal ecto-biology, and the daughter, Jasmine or Jazz, is currently attending Gotham University for a degree in Psychology.” Okay, they were on their way to Gotham. So, getting a DNA sample to run would be easier than originally anticipated, unless he was trained by the League. That would make this plan more difficult than anticipated.

“Find out where they will be in Gotham. Then I want you to try and get a DNA sample so we can run tests and figure out whether he’s a clone. If we’re lucky, he might be willing to help us build a case against Masters.” Bruce was heading for the batmobile now. He needed to think. Either there was a clone of his son living in Illinois for the past seven years, or he had another son that had been free of the League.

He isn’t sure which one would be better.

#danny phantom #danny phantom batfam #dp x dc #danny and damian are twins #danny fenton #batpham #dpxdc #twins au #dp x dc crossover #damian misses danny #his book is precious to him #as are his words #damian 'i wish i had blue eyes so i looked more like danny' wayne #dick just wants to know his brother better #tim: oh hell no that looks important #bruce doesn't know how to handle the possibility of another kid #or another clone of his kid #he just wants to be a good dad

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thewolvesof1998 · 4 months

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Hiiii Wolf 💕💕💕

Buck and Christopher are baking Christmas cookies!

-how many are they making?

-what kinds are they making?

-what do they end up doing with them all?

And anything you can think of to describe the scene!

Have fun with it!! ☺️

Hi Saturn 🪐 !!!

I'm going to use this as my Tease Tidbit Tuesday!

Oh okay, so this sent me down a rabbit hole of sugar cookies and the types of frosting and now I'm going to have to bake some. So I had my first and only ever sugar cookie when I was in Ohio in March. It was sooooo fucking good and I'm pretty sure it was buttercream icing because it was so light and fluffy. I also love making white chocolate butter cream icing so I'm excited to make sugar cookies with it.

Anyways, your questions!

Buck and Chris are making Christmas cookies for Chris's class, maybe they're having a bake sale or maybe it's just to spread some holiday cheer, either way, they are making so many cookies, that the trays are spread out all over Eddie's kitchen. Here are Buck's inspiration photos (because of course he made a Pinterest board for it):

And just image him and Chris making all of these cookies:

And here's a snippet from Someone to be Gentle (which already had a cookie baking scene and I might have already posted most of this so if you've read this before no you haven't):

When Eddie walks in the front door of his house it's to the smell of freshly baked cookies and the sound of his kid cackling like he’s done something cheeky and he knows he’s going to get away with it because, as Buck says, ‘Look at that face, how could you be mad at him?’. Eddie follows the sound, can hear the timber of Buck’s laugh join and harmonise until it’s a cacophony that feels like it’s rubbing aloe on his therapy raw soul. He rounds the corner into his living room and is standing in the door of his kitchen taking in the chaotic sense. There are trays, so many trays, of sugar cookies, half are iced in shades of green and white, the others laid bare. Chris still has his back to Eddie, head tilted back in laughter but Eddie can see Buck, can see the green icing smeared across his cheek and the fake look of outrage on his face that is betrayed by the laughter falling from his lips. A far too familiar ache rips through his chest, his breath catches and eyes start to burn with tears that have become so common lately that he’s surprised they haven’t left permanent marks on his cheeks. He ducks away, not wanting his darkness to mar their happiness any more than it already has. He slumps down onto the couch, head already in his hands trying to push the tears back into his eyes as if that would erase the fact that they were ever there. A hand lands on his shoulder, it stretches from scar to shoulder blade, “Eddie?” “I’m good, I’m fine,” He says without looking up, his voice all crackly with emotion. He senses more than sees Buck sit down opposite him, the coffee table creaking under his weight, Eddie always in tune with every movement Buck makes. His hand never breaks contact, the warmth and steadiness of his palm in sharp contrast to how Eddie’s shaking like a leaf. “You know it’s okay if you're not fine,” Buck pauses as if he’s gathering his thoughts or courage, “You don’t always have to be strong with me, I’m not going to judge you or-or run away, Eddie.” Eddie shakes his head, “You don’t want this, it’s messy, I’m a mess,” as if to emphasise the point he wipes away snot with the edge of his sleeve. “Of course I do, we’re partners,” Eddie’s eyes flicker up to Bucks, his edges are a blur because of the tears but his cheeks are flushed pink as they usually do when Buck’s on a passionate roll, “best friends, I-I want the bad as well as the good, I want to be there when you’re at your worst, let me have your back.” A sob tears out of his chest, it sounds an awful lot like Buck’s name. And he’s not sure if he’s folding forward or if Buck’s reeling him but his arms are around Eddie, holding him close to his chest and something snaps within him. His fingers twist into Buck’s shirt as he cries into his shoulder soaking the material with tears and snot in a way he hasn’t done since he was a little kid crying in his mother’s arms, before the ‘you have to be the man of the house’, before he learnt it was bad to show weakness. And he knows that's not true, been teaching his own son it’s not but it’s so much easier to be kind to others than it is yourself.

The poem it's based on

first snippet second snippet

tagging people for Tease Tidbit Tuesday: @wikiangela @wildlife4life @eddiebabygirldiaz @disasterbuckdiaz @spotsandsocks @try-set-me-on-fire @jesuisici33 @bekkachaos @buddierights @spagheddiediaz @911-on-abc @hippolotamus @shitouttabuck @911onabc @exhuastedpigeon @malewifediaz @your-catfish-friend @loserdiaz @ladydorian05 @watchyourbuck @king-buckley @chaoticgremlinwholikescheese @daffi-990 @fortheloveofbuddie @steadfastsaturnsrings @mangacat201 @theotherbuckley @hoodie-buck @eowon @rainbow-nerdss @nmcggg @pirrusstuff @evanbegins @giddyupbuck @sammysouffle @smilingbuckley @jamespearce9-1-1 @carrierofthepaperclips @jeeyuns @callmenewbie @thosetwofirefighters @monsterrae1 @princehattric @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove

#9-1-1 #buddie #evan buckley #eddie diaz #thewolvesof1998 writes #buddie fic #fic: someone to be gentle #911 #tease tidbit tuesday

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bakerstreethound · 8 months

Text

Solace

Relationship: Thomas Shelby x afab!reader

Warnings: 18+ smut, choking, swearing, biting, likely a fwb situation (not specified), mentions of alcohol and smoking

Summary: Most nights you spend alone, but on the nights Tom comes around, your shared passion ignites, consuming you whole. On these nights, Tom finds solace he rarely has, finding comfort in your arms.

All writings belong to me @bakerstreethound (Do NOT claim, copy, repost, or translate my works to other sites. I only publish here and on A03)

Word Count: 1.2k+

A/N: Hello my dears, I hope you've been well! This is my debut writing for Thomas Shelby and I hope it doesn't sound too out of character. I really got on a kick with Peaky Blinders. I hope you enjoy it! Graphic by @firefly-graphics

A gloved hand grasps your jaw, boring into his burning blue gaze. “Are you certain this is what you want, darling? Tell me no, now.” Tom’s deep timber whispers in your ear.

“Yes Tommy, make me forget.”

Without another word, Thomas shoves you by the hair, and practically drags you up the stairs to your flat, down the street from his. He knew something was up when your hands shook, drowning back your fifth glass of beer. That’s when he recommended you to stop but you foolishly didn’t.

Sometimes you wish you could follow orders.

Grief flew through you in waves, but you want to forget and Tommy was more than willing. All those years ago, he put forth an offer, a business transaction if you will. You are an associate, on good terms, the occasional shag helping you to clear your minds and frustrations.

Tonight, you begged for something more not wanting forgiveness, you wanted him to tame the beast inside you, draw it out and stomp it to ash. You fear the person you’d become with the beast lose consuming the streets with the raw fury you unleash. It’s a terrifying ordeal to muse over and you can’t bring yourself to wonder anymore.

Once on the bed, you swallow, looking up into his ocean eyes, his finger tilting your chin up to hold you steady. His scent intoxicates you, surrounding you with familiarity and warmth. The heaviness in your shoulders eases a fraction as you take in his form, hidden under his coat that you borrowed time and time again.

You like the way it frames your body, your armor making you untouchable to the others. You are fearsome in your own right, but at this moment, you want to forget the screaming faces, the nightmares, and the sorrows that plague your days haunting you whenever and wherever you please.

“You’re thinking again. Don’t want you to think tonight, love.” His voice is smooth, you almost forget how it enraptures you when you hear it, but your body responds in kind, your arms reaching out to him and he obliges, joining you on the foot of the bed.

He removes his coat, draping it along the footboard, his black waistcoat and white button-up shirt a vision to your sore eyes. You don’t think you’ll ever get over seeing him this way. “That's a good start, now yeah?” He huffs, a small smile ghosting along his lips when your arms wrap around his waist, situation yourself close to him, burying your face in his neck. His hands stroke along your back, and he exhales slowly, murmuring to himself.

“Everything okay, Tom?” You press a kiss to his neck, earning a shaky sigh. He takes another drag from his cigarette, and smoke rings following in his wake. “Just fine, love,” he replies, his free hand stroking along your back, pressing you against him.

His heart thrums steadily and you find peacefulness in its rhythm, happy he came back to you relatively unscathed. Nothing is ever guaranteed in his line of dealings, so you take what you can of him when you have the chance and so far, he hasn’t let you down but you knew the risk you were getting into associating yourself with him. Granted, he did give you safety and a pension which allows you to be more self-sufficient and free than other members of your broken family could boast.

The kisses that trail along your neck turn to flame, and the soft touches along your sides turn to grip you hard, needing to feel more of you. His lips capture your own and you fall into him, the tears of sorrow soon turning to pain. Your buried grief, the beast that consumed you on nights like these, soon turned to throngs of passion you continue to stroke, and Tom continues to stroke from you.

Long gone are your thoughts rendering you immobile for the moment, yet like all good things, some parts have to end. Yet, not here or now it doesn’t happen, you’re much too lost in the depths of Tom’s piercing gaze, your nails digging into his back, earning low grunts of approval from him as he filled you with all of him, your worries all but obsolete.

The feeling of his skin against yours is something to relish and you take what you can, his breath hot in your ear, the sheer weight of him pressing him into your mattress is heavenly torture.

“Tom, please.”

His hand clasps around your throat, baring his teeth as he grunts. “Easy love, I’ve got you now, right? Good good that’s right.” He squeezes gently, applying just the right pressure to get you squirming.

“T-Tom…”

“Now now, love, you can take it, just like that.” his other hand strokes your side, his lips taunting your own, biting harshly and swallowing your groans whole. It’s all-consuming and your mind loses itself in all of him.

He smells and tastes of cigars and whiskey, your hands card roughly through his hair, earning a pleasant noise from him. He rarely takes you gently, but when his frustrations get the better of him, you welcome him into your arms as you’ve done countless times before.

His gentle encouragements filled with devastating promises pull your mind into the throes of passion, the curl of his fingers guiding you to a high you could only ever dream of.

“Hell, just like tha’ Tom,” you dig in to his shoulders, not caring if anyone clear across the street could hear. They were all likey at the Garrison anyways, enjoying the booze and Arthur’s lively tales as he handed out the drafts. They mattered naught, as you continued to card your fingers through Tom’s hair, his gasps and grunts sending you over the edge, with him fsoon following behind. You chuckle despite yourself, kissing his lips once more.

“I don’t ever thing I’ll get enough of you, Tom.”

“Nor I, you,” his deep timbre sends shivers down your spine and you hate the hope that floods in its wake. Perhaps he’d stay tonight with you. He never gave much indication if he’d stay with you these nights he appeared or not, disappearing as quickly as a spectre and left you waking from a blissful haunting dream, an unfading scar imprintded on your brain, intertwined within your heart.

He fiddles with your hand, pulling you from your musings, intertwining it with your own, dragging you on to shaky legs before pulling you into his arms, an arm wrapped under your legs to support you.

“Let’s get cleared up, shall we?”

“Aye, lead on, Mr. Shelby!” a smile tugs at the corner of your lips and your heart flutters. There it is again. Hope. Unfaltering hope in the midst of it all in your dark world, and you found a spark, a glimmer of light following it no matter the cost. You would fight to keep it in your life, to keep him with you as long as he is willing.

Later when he has you in his arms, your face nestled in his neck are one of the times he can find respite and he allows himself to relax, taking another drag of his cigarette, listening to your soft sighs give way to sleep, tangled in the aftermath of passion.

He smiles to himself, pressing a kiss to your cheek, closing his eyes. Maybe, maybe the nightmares will pass him by this time. For you are by his side, his solace on many a sleepless night.

******

#tommy shelby x reader #thomas shelby x reader #peaky blinders #cillian murphy #thomas shelby #tommy shelby #if he's ooc I apologize #I started this in the throes of grief #so it might be a little choppy #it was nice to try out something different #peaky blinders fanfiction #peaky blinders fanfic

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