#this man turns out different every time i draw him but i do like this version | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

fordaryl · 4 months

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REMEMBER.

minors dni. 2.6k words. smut. daryl dixon x fem!reader. protective daryl. hint of size kink. strength kink.

It's easy to forget his strength when his touch is always so gentle. When you're safe, he lets you forget everything he's capable of; the reason you've both made it this long.

Safety lets you forget.

And then—when it inevitably all it all goes to shit again—you remember.

"Get in!" he calls through the wall of bodies separating you. He keeps the attention of most of them, but there's a few stumbling in your direction—too many for you to handle alone. "Now!" he shouts as he takes another growling walker down.

It goes against every instinct you have—to leave him to fight this alone. But this was his domain. This was when you did whatever the fuck he told you to do. It was how you survived.

You drag the door of the container open, grunting as the heavy metal fights back. It's a makeshift prison cell, one that was supposed to be filled with live bait for the walkers. It would be if it weren't for Daryl. He was almost single-handedly dismantling whatever fucked up enterprise you'd both stumbled upon.

One of them reaches you before you'd manage to push the gate open enough to slip through.

One is fine. You can handle one.

Turning around to deal with it gives you a split second to check in on Daryl. He's making a dent in the mass of bodies, but it's not enough. Not with the shouts of the living making their way closer.

You kick the walker you've knifed back into the mass of bodies approaching, giving you just enough time to slip through the crack you've made in the sliding door and slam it closed behind you.

Locking it is another story.

You have no hope of accomplishing that.

Still, it's enough for now. It's enough to let Daryl keep his focus where it needs to be as you deal with as many as you can through the bars.

Then one gets shot down. Daryl, is your first thought. But then two are shot down at once. And then the voices reach your ears. Voices are bad. Walkers you can handle. The living was another story. Nothing stoked the fear constantly simmers in your gut like the voices of the living.

They shout over each other, calling directions as they pick off the mass with a spray of bullets. You can't see Daryl anymore. He's either dead or hiding.

Hiding. Hiding. Hiding.

You shift back into one of the dark corners of the container as the shouts draw nearer.

“What the fuck happened?! Don't shoot them you dumb fucks! Get any you can back into holding!”

Any second now... any second they'd find Daryl and your world would end. The living were different. The living were monsters of a different kind.

"They're bunched up around this one!" someone shouts.

You hold your breath.

"Well check it out then!" another demands.

Oh, fuck. You grip your pistol. Your aim was decent. You could take one out, maybe two. But there's a whole group... and they were coming for you.

You scramble to the other far corner as the last of the walkers are cleared from the entrance, hoping to take advantage of the darkest shadows. Daryl would be watching... waiting. Any extra moment you could give him could be vital.

"You better come out now," a man calls from outside. He's just out of your sights, prepared for you to be armed and ready to fight. You'd hoped to have the element of surprise. "I ain't asking."

You know what'll happened when they find you. It's the same thing each time. You're prey to people like these—something to hunt in a world without consequences for that kind of thing.

Your silence buys you less than a minute before the first of them are dragging the metal gate open. If you shoot, they'll shoot back. It's not something you'll survive cornered like this. So you bet on them being the same as the rest. You let them know you're prey.

"Please," you call, as meek and afraid as you can manage—vulnerable. Not a threat. "I'm—I'm unarmed."

Then a bright light blinds you.

"What the fuck?" one of them exclaims. Then, "Where'd the fuck this little thing come from?"

There it was. Little. Thing. You were nothing. You're not a threat. You'd bought Daryl more time.

"Come on out, girl. Come on." They call you like you're a dog, something less than human. That's how they see you. Something to use.

You take a small step forward, still blinded by their flashlights. Daryl was alive. He was alive and hiding and he was waiting for something.

You just had to stay alive.

"What do you... want with me?" you ask, still taking tiny steps towards the light. Weak. Vulnerable. No threat.

You get muffled laughter in response. Guards down. Distracted.

"What do we want? We want a little fun, honey. That's all. Just a bit of fun."

They're flash lights drop as you approach the entrance. They've pulled the gate all the way across.

Five. You count five. If you kill two...

"Why is she alone?" one of them questions. He's younger, a little less distracted.

The rest ignore him. Then one of them has you by the arm, dragging you the rest of the way out of the makeshift cell. They're hands send a wave of repulsion through your body as they grab at you, pulling you around and shoving you in front of them. They may as well be the undead the way their touch feels against your skin.

The young one doesn't move out of the way when you reach him. Instead he stares into you, suspicious and angry. "Who are you with?" he asks. Even then, his gun is lowered. Even to him you aren't a threat.

"Get the fuck out of the way," the man gripping your arm says, clearly irritated and impatient.

"But—"

"Now."

His eyes narrow, but then he steps aside—his back pressed to the wall to let the rest of the men past. It's now that you get a look down into the pit of walkers, the one's they've managed to recapture rather than take out. They reach up towards you, hands grabbing for you.

Then, only a few steps later—you're stopped. The man with his hand wrapped around your elbow leans over your shoulder, his rancid breath invading your nostrils as he speaks. "You alone?" he asks. "You tell me right now."

You blink away the burn threatening to pool tears in your eyes. Were you alone? If you were...

The man's grip tightens, the only warning you get before you're forced to your knees and staring down into the pit of hungry walkers. "Speak," he demands, nails carving into your skin. "I'd hate to waste you like this."

There's two other men behind you. Three surrounding you in total. You could take one out for sure. They hadn't even searched you for weapons. They expected nothing out of you at all.

But then there'd be two, only counting the ones in reaching distance. How long would it take the other two further away to aim their guns in your direction?

You were dying tonight if Daryl was dead, that was certain. Your only hope was that he was waiting and watching... but what would he be waiting for...

Your pistol sits at your hip, a comfortable weight.

You take a deep breath. You could wait to die. Or fight now and hope that's the moment he's waiting for... if he's waiting at all.

The man holding you drops to one knee behind you. He leans over to speak in your ear. You wouldn't need to rely on your aim for the first kill, only any that followed. It was a headstart you weren't likely to get again. You reach for your pistol and before the man can open his lips and taint your senses with his rot once more, you shoot him through the underside of his jaw.

Your ears ring as his body drops. But you were ready. The men behind you aren't.

You were nothing. Prey.

The few seconds that affords you are priceless. You manage to shoot one more through the head before he can get hands on his own weapon.

The third is another story. His gun is pointed at you for what must be milliseconds. They drag though, those moments with an enemy weapon pointed at your head always do.

But then Daryl is there, strangling the man with a rifle and shoving his body into the ground with a force that reverberates through the metal. It's only when he snaps the man's neck you spot the bodies behind him.

He'd been waiting for you.

You watch him stand, hair hanging in his face and his chest rising and falling with his deep breaths.

Then his eyes are on you.

Then his hands.

Those hands... the same ones he'd used seconds earlier to break a man's neck. His fingers are feathers across your skin as he brushes the hair back off your face. "Okay?" he asks, soft and a little shaky.

You nod.

"You did good," he says, that deep gravel back in his voice. "So good, sweetheart." His hand makes a trail down to your neck, gentle and slow over your pulse point to rest at your clavicle. "We gotta go," he says. "Stay close for me, yeah?"

—————

The first time after is always the same—after you're forced to remember. It adds something to the way his gentle hands feel as he reaches over your hips to dip between your legs. To the way his body feels pressed up behind yours.

His thick fingers slip between your slick folds as he holds you tight against his chest. Heat. It's an overwhelming heat. He crowds you, practically curled around you.

"You like that sweetheart?" His voice is almost sweet as his lips graze your ears and his long hair tickles your skin. "Huh? You like that?"

You nod with a small whine, pressing your hips back into him—desperate.

He sighs, finger prodding over and over at your swollen entrance—a teasing little hint of what's to come. He dips in slightly, his calloused fingertip pressing into your slippery, spongy entrance just enough to have you whimpering his name.

"Fuck," he grunts. "You need me here? Huh? You all fuckin' empty?"

"Yeah," you whine with a desperate nod. "Empty."

His grip around your ribs tightens for a moment before he's pressing you into the ground—cushioned by the few blankets you carry. He's rolled you onto your belly as he covers you completely, his warmth seeping into your skin from his calves to his hot breath on your neck.

"What do you need?" he asks. As if he doesn't know; as if he didn't always know.

"You."

"Hm?" he hums, sweet and coaxing. "How?"

You reach blindly to find his wrist, gripping it firmly. "Hold me tight," you gasp between jagged breaths. "Please... Please."

His weight is heavy over you as he drops his lips to your neck, a silent acknowledgement of your pleas.

Then he's scooping you up, lifting you and rearranging you exactly the way you want him to. Because he fucking knows.

He has you pressed to his chest with your tits against his skin as he lays back into the makeshift bed you've created for the night. His arms wrap around you, one across your shoulder blades and the other around your waist—secure and firm. His fingers press sporadically into your skin a little more than needed, like he's testing his grip on you; like he's testing he has you in his arms good and tight.

Then he hooks one leg under yours, a gentle guide to part your legs just the way he needs.

"You ready for me, sweetheart?" he breathes against your temple as one of his hands leaves you. It's temporary, you remind yourself. He'd be wrapping you up securely as soon as he'd buried himself deep; once his cock was guided safely into your throbbing cunt.

You nip at his neck in response, chasing with a delicate lick at his salty skin. "Please," you ask softly.

Then he's adjusting you against him a little, ensuring you're exactly where he needs you to be. "I got you," he says as his leaking tip prods at your entrance. "Got you," he repeats. He mumbles this way as he teases; as he plays. This was what he did: pushed you to the brink of desperate sobs as he guides his cockhead over your slippery, throbbing cunt... over and over.... and over...

Saying he liked you needy was an understatement.

Then, eventually, he slips inside. Just the tip.. and not far. Just enough so that he can wrap his arms around you again. Just enough that he can have you whimpering his name as he prevents you grinding down to take him deep inside.

This is when he gives you a hint of his strength. It's easy to keep you from your goal, his strong arms pressing you into his torso a little harder each time you attempt to resist.

He keeps you there, just with a taste of that fullness—a taste of having him as close as it was possible to be. "Kiss," he says, simple and a little croaky.

You obey, pressing your desperation between his lips. It's messy and interrupted by moments where you simply need to breathe, heavily—his lips chasing yours as you attempt to catch your breath.

"Daryl," you gasp eventually. "Now. Please."

His grip around you tightens a little as you drop your face to his neck.

Then he pulls you down to meet his cock, to fuck himself deep. It's hard, exactly like you need it—exactly the way he knows you want it. You bite into his neck weakly as he keeps you there, stuffed full—the thick throbbing length of him stretching you out so completely.

Then, "Like that?" he asks, that sweetness back in his voice—like he's offering you a gentle back massage instead of holding you down on his cock.

You nod weakly in response.

His fingers press into your skin moments before he's moving, fucking himself with your cunt as he pulls you down to meet his messy thrusts. You're completely pliant like this, all control relinquished.

He's got you.

His breathing is quickly transformed into uneven pants as he attempts to grunt broken sentences into your ear. "Sucking me in... sucking at my cock with your messy little cunt... aren't you, baby? Hm?"

One of his hands moves to your hair occasionally, a temporary and seemingly subconscious attempt to get a better grip—or just to hold you closer. His fingers tangle in the strands, never tugging hard—never hurting.

"My girl," he grunts. "My needy little girl."

It's only when he's nearing his end that he flips you onto your back and you get a real display. He grips your hips and tugs you down to meet him as he uses you, each thrust a slapping of skin and punching a helpless sound from your lungs.

Strength. Everything you've been forced to remember.

"Daryl," you gasp. "Daryl, fill me. Please."

His fingers dig a little more into your skin, his hair falling over his eyes. Then his lips part, a grunt... a broken, "Fuck."

He falls over you as he floods you, his cock twitching and pumping you full—just like you asked. But even then, even as he loses himself, he catches his fall—arms landing either side of your head to cage you in. "Got you," he gasps out between desperate lung fulls of air. "I got you."

#daryl dixon smut #daryl x reader #daryl dixon #twd daryl #twd x reader #daryl dixon x reader #x reader #daryl imagines #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon x y/n

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ceilidho · 1 month

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take me home, country road

[ao3]

prompt: 1800s price/reader…. reader flees to his town where Price is the sheriff after a murder in her previous town only to be mistaken for the mail order bride that Price just sent for ….and he’s not interested in hearing any of her excuses when she tells him that he’s got the wrong girl (part 6) part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5

And they say if it sways, you have to cut it off at the root.

You repeat that to yourself when you catch the way you glance out the kitchen window again, surreptitiously watching John. It’s hard to pull your eyes away. He walks over to the well to fetch water for you to do the dishes, the chore you’d elected to take when he offered you the choice between that and feeding the horses. It’s a fair compromise since you balk at the thought of getting anywhere near either of those beasts.

Watching him bend over the well to lower the bucket down, his muscled shoulders tapering to a narrow waist and suspenders drawing tight against his back, makes you bite your lip. Then scowl. Then pull the curtain shut to block out the view.

You have to cut any gentleness off at the root.

When he comes back, you step to the side without a word to let him pour the water into the wash basin, hot water from the teakettle and lye soap making the water already in the pan sudsy. In a sense, it’s not any different from anything you’ve done back home; the same two pans for washing and scalding, the same cake of soap, and the same dish towel to dry the dishes off at the end. The only difference is the man that pours the cool water into the basin to make it more comfortable for your hands.

“I’ll be out back,” he tells you, before grabbing you around the waist and pulling you in close to press a close-mouthed kiss to the side of your head. You only scrunch your nose a little. “When you’re done, come get me. Got business in town.”

“Why do you need me to come with you?” you ask, lips cresting into a pout without a thought. You’d never considered yourself a bellyacher, but it’s almost second nature around John. “I can…I can stay and clean the house.”

“You saying I keep a messy home?” John asks, a teasing lilt in his voice.

You look pointedly down at the dirt he tracked into the kitchen after fetching the bucket of water from the well. “It could do with a spit shine.”

That gets a laugh out of him, a bellow from deep in his belly. It shakes you to your bones.

“Darling, I’ll be honest with you,” he says, turning you to face him before folding his arms across his chest. “I don’t trust you not to bolt like a runaway horse, and you’ll only wind up putting yourself in danger if you try to make a run for it out here.”

That expression makes your stomach twist. “Good to know you think of your wife as some scared filly.”

“You talk a whole lot for a woman who’s been over my knee. Do we need to repeat that?”

When his tone goes stern, you lose the wedging piece of candor keeping you upright. Eyes widen and then narrow. He’s been patient despite your loose tongue, but when that patience slips, you can see the steel underneath his gentle exterior. It’s the true root of him.

You clam up under his stare, sullen and begrudging. Smooth your dress down to have something to do with your hands. You’ve forgotten your place again. Side-stepped it out of intimacy or misplaced trust or naivety or forgetting, again, for the umpteenth time, that the world is not a place for women that open their mouths. So you keep it shut, trap every festering word behind your teeth.

He must not like something he sees painted on your face because his brows draw closer together, frustration brewing anew in his eyes. The longer you stay quiet, the more irritated he grows, his nostrils flaring wide.

“See that you come get me as soon as everything’s squared away in here,” John bites out, pointing a single, blunt finger at you. “Else I’ll come get you myself.”

And we wouldn’t want that, you think, surly. You hope it swims across your eyes. Blooms on your face. Perhaps it does.

The lines around his mouth and eyes grow more defined when he smiles. His whole mustache moves with his smile, every part of his face expressing his satisfaction. It’s beyond infuriating. He taps you on the nose with his knuckle before leaving out the backdoor, not sparing you a backward glance. You nearly shake with indignation.

It’s hard not to watch him out in the paddock while drying the dishes though, not with him set against the gilded sun. You inch the curtain slightly open, just enough of a gap to peer through. The Stetson shadows his face when he tilts his head up towards the sky, the hard edge of his jaw the only thing that meets your gaze. It’s not the first time you’ve seen a man out in the fields or pastures, but most of those have been at a distance, removed. Glimpsed briefly through the window while your train barreled on past acres of farmland.

John cycles through the morning tasks of guiding the horses into the paddock by a lead fixed to their halter, replenishing the food trough, and fetching more water from the well to fill the water trough. His horses are striking in the sheer size of them; muscled shoulders and legs, and well-padded flanks. Most of the horses you’ve seen out west haven’t seemed nearly as well-fed, many whittled down to rib and hip bone.

It says something about him, but you’re not ready to confront exactly what. You turn your attention back to the dishes, scrubbing the last of the dried butter and eggs at the bottom of the pan. It takes a little extra grit, but cleaning is a familiar chore—it’s one you’ve done all your life, what got you into this mess in the first place.

You don’t like what you find when you finally venture out of the house to track him down.

“I’m not getting on that thing.”

You put your veritable foot down with that, arms straight and stiff by your sides, more out of worry than annoyance. You do also give a little stomp for good measure, but you’ll chalk that up to reflexes should John inquire.

He doesn’t. Just stares down at you with unimpressed green eyes that haunt your days and nights now. Tells you without telling you that you’ll get on that horse, willing or not.

It’s not for a lack of beauty that you can’t quite shake the nervousness they elicit in you. Buttercup, the one that John saddled up and now waits patiently to be mounted, keeps her head low as if sensing your disquiet, curiosity glimmering in her coal black eyes. Not even the animal curiosity of is this a friend or foe, but the curiosity that comes with pure trust, almost intelligible that way.

John runs his hand down her smooth, buttery flank. “Did you enjoy yesterday’s walk?”

“I didn’t hate it.” Truth be told, you’d hardly been of a mind to notice it at all. Though your legs still ache from the walk back to John’s house, the walk itself had not seemed especially grueling in the moment. The mind can put aside quite a bit when it has something else to focus on.

“Well, I’m not too keen to repeat it.” He leaves it at that, tightening a strap on Buttercup’s saddle in such a purposeful way that your shoulders tense.

“I could meet you there,” you say, a touch desperately. Your stomach turns when you think about hoisting yourself up onto Buttercup’s saddle. It doesn’t seem possible. It’s not something you’ve ever done or ever considered doing. You remember horror stories of stableboys back home trampled under their hooves and stomped to death, kicks so powerful that they could break a fully grown man’s ribs or cave in his face.

“My wife isn’t gonna wander into town by her lonesome like some vagrant,” John says disdainfully, almost scoffing. Insulted by the whole idea. “And you’re sure as hell not staying here alone, darlin’.”

“Well, figure something else out because I am not getting up on that thin—” You cut off on a yelp when he circles around you and abruptly lifts you up. Your head rushes at the sudden motion, legs flailing beneath you.

“Quit squirmin’ like a damn barn cat. Little hellion,” John grits out, guiding your heel into the stirrup. “C’mon, you’re just side saddling, so you only need your butt on the saddle.” When he sets you down lightly onto the saddle, you stop wiggling around, acutely aware of the thousand pound horse beneath you. “There we go—that wasn’t so hard now, was it?”

“I hate this,” you hiss, fingers clamped tight over the pommel.

“Aw, darlin’, don’t go insulting Buttercup like that,” John chuckles, replacing your foot in the stirrup with his own.

You sit there stiff as a board, perched precariously on the saddle as he hoists himself up behind you. His sheer proximity doesn’t register right away. You’re too concerned with the moving beast under you, its ribs expanding and contracting with each breath. Unlike you, John is more than comfortable sitting astride the horse, not a smidgeon of tension in his body. You suck in a horrified breath when you feel him readjust himself before settling down more comfortably.

He reaches around you to grab the reins, a sharp whistle signaling the horse to take her first stride forward, looping around the side of the house. Even the slow trot threatens to buck you off at first. You lurch forward with each step, certain that you’ll slip right off the saddle and onto the dusty ground below until John loops an arm around your waist and pulls you to his chest.

You grow stiffer in his arms somehow. Despite sleeping in the same bed the night before and sharing far too many kisses for your comfort or virtue, being pressed up tight against a man never gets easier. Perhaps if you’d been married for longer than a single day you’d be more at ease with the notion, but as of yet, it comes as a shock to the senses every time.

You carefully avoid the thought that other married women wouldn’t be still in possession of their maidenhead so many hours after their wedding night. That’s none of your business.

The two of you navigate into town at a slow canter, allowing you to gradually acclimatize to the gait of a horse. Part of you remembers riding horses when you were younger, but that was a lifetime ago, long enough to shake the memory from your muscles. These days, you can barely remember the hands holding you steady, the ones that would’ve lifted you up onto the horse and helped you back down. Those people are faceless in your memories.

John stays silent at your back, only tightening his hand around your hip when you slip the slightest bit when Buttercup picks up the pace, heading towards the familiar sight of the sheriff’s office. It draws a quick squawk out of you, neatly masked by a fake cough. His chuckle at that rumbles through you, clearly not buying it. Another lesson in humiliation.

You manage not to flail as much when he gets off the horse and helps you down, even though you’re still not used to being manhandled so, particularly not in front of the townsfolk milling about and glancing over with undisguised interest.

“Are you working today?” you ask, curiosity getting the better of you while John ties Buttercup’s lead to the post outside the sheriff’s office.

“Don’t exactly get many days off when you’re the only sheriff in the county,” John replies. “We’ve got a few deputies in every town, and a couple here, but it ain’t an easy gig.”

“How many deputies have you got here?”

“Just the three. Simon, John, and Kyle. You met Simon the other day.”

His name draws up the faint memory of the masked deputy from your wedding ceremony. “I remember,” you say flatly. There’s no lost love between you and anyone involved with that sham of a wedding.

“Don’t hold that against him,” John smiles. “He’s a good ole boy. Can’t fault a man for following the boss’ orders.”

Watch me. You glance away lest he see that thought etched across your face.

The town is bustling with activity this late in the morning. Steps and floorboards creak under the weight of boots coming and going. A man going by in a horse-and-buggy whistles sharply when he cracks the reins, his horse puffing out a low, frustrated grunt.

Men hustle past you decked out in leather chaps and waistcoats, spats covering the half-boots of those not decked out in tall, spurred cowboy boots. There are far less women scampering about town than men, particularly not so close to the sheriff’s office, but you keep finding your eyes drawn to them.

John grips you under the arm and swiftly pulls you back when you narrowly sidestep a mound of horse droppings left uncovered in the middle of the road. The smell only hits you a second later.

“Well, that’s lovely,” you remark, deadpanned, putting your foot down deliberately a good distance away.

“Wouldn’t need to complain about it if you just watched your step.”

“You know, this really would’ve been a nice day to just stay home,” you mutter, chastised enough not to say something sharp in return.

While the smell makes your nose wrinkle, you have to admit that the air here is far less pungent than back home. In general, this bucolic town is far more pleasant in certain respects than the city you’d left behind in a haste.

“Where do you want me to wait for you?” you ask, turning to face him now at the front steps of the sheriff’s office.

He frowns. “Wait for me?”

“While you work, I mean. Surely you don’t mean for me to sit inside all day twiddling my thumbs while you work.”

His mustache twitches with a smile. “Thought I’d show you around first—get you acquainted with the locals.”

The idea of mingling with the townsfolk doesn’t appeal to you, but you also can’t think of a good enough reason to refuse. Especially with the curious glances already being sent your way. You duck your head to stare down at your boots when you spot a group of other women clustered together and whispering to each other, their eyes trained on you. Somehow you’ve gone from being furniture in a room to being a source of local gossip, and it’s almost hard to believe that you miss being ignored.

When you look back up at John, you find him still staring down at you, waiting patiently. Up close, the sunlight almost turns patches of his beard gold; he has a smattering of moles across his face, not the blush of freckles but rather a few dark spots by his nose. Aside from the tuft of hair under his bottom lip, his chin is mostly bare, and when he smiles, his whole face moves with it. You have to blink to snap yourself out of it.

Your upper lip curls involuntarily when you say, “So you want to help me make friends?”

“Well, seeing as I know most of ‘em, figured I’d be a help.”

“The job’s really not all that busy then, huh?” You really wish you could learn to shut your mouth, since it keeps getting you in trouble, but the barbs roll off your tongue so naturally. Luckily, it seems to amuse him now more than it did early this morning.

“Guess life isn’t as exciting ‘round here as it is back in the city, but it has its days,” John chuckles. “Now come on; I’ll give you the tour.”

For some reason, you hadn’t pictured the town being quite so big, but during your walk, you realize you’ve vastly underestimated the true size of it. Though not anywhere near as ostentatious as the cities back east, the sheer breadth of it eclipses anything from back home. It’s spread out on an incomparable scale, the mountains in the background stretching out along the horizon like the skeletal remains of a giant long since dead and decayed.

It’s not the ramshackle town you envisioned when you stepped off the train the other day, despite the wooden facades and their brightly painted signs. You almost wish you had more time just to admire the craftsmanship, but John leads you from store to store like he’s on a mission.

He seems most interested in towing you around like some prized mare, all trussed up and clean from your bath the night before. You meet so many people that their names and faces all begin to blur together. The worst offense of all is that it makes you lean on John for support, looking up at him again and again for reassurance whenever you can’t answer a question or your answer triggers a moment of awkward silence.

Those moments come aplenty too. The few people nosey enough to ask you about your life back in the city find themselves on the butt end of a cheerfully delivered lie from John. It unnerves you at first, seeing how comfortable he is with lying. He doesn’t even hesitate for a second when recounting your previous life as a schoolteacher in Connecticut prior to your engagement.

Perhaps it’s not a lie though. You don’t know the extent to which he and his original betrothed corresponded. Certainly not enough for him to suspect you of not being her, but maybe she’d spun him that story. Or maybe it had been the truth. All this time you’d thought that John had been swindled by some con artist using desperate men to fund her lifestyle, but maybe somewhere between here and Connecticut, there’s an unmarked grave with the corpse of the woman that John had intended to marry.

That makes you feel guilty somehow, like you’ve taken something not meant for you. Even if you hadn’t wanted it—in fact, been forced into taking it.

You swallow that thought when John leads you into the general store. Your eyes bug at the sight of a blonde haired woman in khaki cloth knickerbockers stocking the shelves, who turns at the sound of the door creaking open, the sharp look on her face melting away at the sight of John.

The warmth in her face infuriates you more than it should. You have no right to feel this way—or, some right, but you resent the fact that you do as well.

“Hi John,” she greets. Her voice is deeper than you anticipated, springtime crisp like a babbling brook.

“Laswell,” John greets, scooping his arm around your side until he can palm the side of your hip, dragging you in close. You stumble into him, catching yourself with a hand on his chest. Your neck and face go hot when Laswell’s eyes turn on you, curiosity glinting in them.

“Your lady finally showed up then,” she surmises. “I’ll be honest, I was starting to think you made her up. Told the boys to think about forcing you into an early retirement.”

John huffs at that. His fingers tighten at your waist when Laswell says your lady, as if the words alone make it fact. Speak it into being. The metal burns against your ring finger. In a sense, it is fact, despite the subterfuge. You wonder if it would hold up in court, but out here, it’s real enough.

“Well, she’s very real, as you can tell.” He gives you a little shake with the hand on your waist. “Say hi, darlin’.”

If looks could kill, yours would be pit-viper venom. You’d leave behind a festering puncture mark and a body in the throes of envenomation. “Excuse me?”

Your attitude might come at a cost this time because he looks unamused at your back talk in front of an audience. “Darlin’.” It’s said like a warning.

You bite your tongue instead of lashing out. “Pleasure to meet you.”

“Kate Laswell; I own this little shop,” she says, introducing herself and stepping forward to hold out her hand. You have to step forward to take it, pulling you out of John’s arms. It feels familiar being on your own, certainly more natural than being constantly at John’s side the way you have for almost two days now. It’s also a bit cold after having John’s warmth at your back or side at all times.

There’s a moment when you realize that Kate is the first person you’ve had to introduce yourself to, John having introduced you to everyone else you’d come across. It hovers on the tip of your tongue when you realize that you could just say your real name, and you find yourself torn between setting it free and the odd fear of John’s reaction.

You chicken out at the last second, giving Kate the same name as the one John introduced you by to everyone else in town.

“He might growl like a bear, but you’ll get used to that,” she says, winking.

You frown. Awfully familiar talk for someone who isn’t his wife. Why should she know that?

You make yourself push that thought away, reminding yourself again that it doesn’t matter. It’s none of your concern.

“He’s been a gentleman,” you croak instead, smile so thin that it might as well be a grimace.

A shout from the bar across the street startles you, drawing your attention away from the conversation. John stills too. A series of raised voices puts him on alert, and then someone inside the bar must fire a gun because the violent crack of one makes you scream, the noise pulled involuntarily from your chest.

“Stay here,” John growls, his pistol already drawn. He’s out the door before you can respond, darting across the street towards the bar and shouldering the door open so hard that it rattles in its frame. You watch everything happen through the window of the general store with your heart in your throat.

“Good Lord,” you whisper, hand over your mouth. Kate stands beside you in a similar manner, her eyebrows pinched in concern.

The thought doesn’t even occur to you that now would be the perfect time to make a break for it, with John busy across the street. Your feet are rooted in place; you doubt you’d be able to take so much as a single step towards the door.

There’s precious little that you can see through the grit-lined bar windows, not as dusty and dirty as they are, but you can hear the commotion from inside. Raised voices and the sound of breaking glass. It makes you flinch, heart galloping at an even faster pace. Like harness horses on the Freehold Raceway. It’s not long before you see a large, masked man hightailing it down the road towards the bar, dust clouding around his boots with each heavy step.

You recognize him almost instantly as the man from your wedding, the one that signed your marriage license. John’s man—Simon. He nearly takes the bar door off its hinges when he throws it open, barely in there a second before he and John come out each with a man in hand, both already handcuffed and looking roughed up They drag them stumbling down the dirt road towards the sheriff’s office, Simon half-dragging another man whose white button-down is slowly saturating with red blood oozing out of a gunshot wound in his belly.

“Shouldn’t they call a doctor for that man?” you ask Kate in a frantic voice, whipping around to face her.

She nods. “They probably will once they’ve got the four of them locked up. Doctor probably heard that anyway—he’ll be on his way, I bet.”

“On his way already?”

“There’s only one doctor around here. And not much else sounds like a gunshot.”

“Does that happen a lot around here?” You don’t know why the thought makes you nervous, but there’s a cramp in your belly and a sweat building up on the back of your neck and your hands itch to grab something. When you swallow, it almost doesn’t go down.

“It’s not uncommon. I reckon it’s not something you’re used to?”

You purse your lips. “I’ve seen a dead body before.” You don’t know why that comes out so defensively, like a slight that’s been levied against you. There’s no easy way to dispel the myth in everyone’s mind that you come from a life of comfort and ease, with delicate hands fit for delicate work. You curl your hands into fists at the thought, conscious of the old scars and calluses built up over years of scrubbing and cleaning. If she were to look down, she wouldn’t see the well-kept hands of a lady.

When Kate quirks an eyebrow, you realize that your response had nothing to do with her question. “Well, look at you.”

When John and Simon disappear into the jailhouse, the door swinging shut behind them, you sway on your feet for a second, feeling oddly unbalanced. Something about the sight of the man’s blood leaves you feeling woozy, taking the chair that Kate offers you when she sees the way you rock back on your heels.

“Let me get you something to drink,” Kate offers, brows now furrowed sympathetically at the pathetic sight you must be. “I’m sure you got a little fright thinking of your husband facing down a man with a gun, but I’m afraid that comes with marrying a sheriff. There’s danger everywhere, you know.”

What you don’t say is that your lightheadedness came not just from the sight of the man with the blood leaking from a wound in his stomach, but the grim look on your husband’s face as he carted away the man responsible, eyes hard as steel. No sympathy for the man in his hands. Only another criminal to be tossed away in a jail cell. The punishment for making another man bleed.

Your hands shake in your lap, but you don’t say that. Instead, you smile weakly and take the glass of water from her hands when she comes back from filling it at the sink. “You’re right. Just a little fright.”

#ceil writing #cod mw2 #cod x reader #captain john price #price/reader #price x reader #price x you #john price x reader

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skzdarlings · 3 months

Note

Chan with ❛ that really does make you hard. i can feel you pulsing inside me. ❜

summary: your husband is a university professor. when you sit in on one of his lectures, it gives both of you an idea...

pairing: bang chan/reader content info: husband!chan, kinky professor/student roleplay, though reader is his wife and not actually a student. dom!chan, sub!reader, degrading language (stupid, dumb, slut). corruption kink, power dynamics kink. explicit sexual content. word count: 2380 words.

part of the valentine's day stories series. credit to prompts. requests are closed.

enjoy! <3

Chan is giving a lecture when you reach the university. You kill some time and grab a coffee, ambling around campus and idling in corridors until your wandering leads you to his hall. The main doors are propped open, likely for air circulation with the spring heat, and you smile at his voice spilling into the hallway.

It is a big lecture hall. He is teaching a beginner level so the class is substantially large, a couple hundred freshman packed inside. No one will notice an extra presence. There are a few empty seats scattered across the back row so you slip inside and quietly take one.

You like seeing Chan in his element. Your husband is something of a chameleon, spending his down time in hoodies and baseball caps, listening to music and giggling at his own goofy jokes. You almost forget his professional side, his prestigious and academic character. He loves his research and his work and his students and it shows in every remark and gesticulation.

You adore him. His passion and intelligence never cease to amaze you.

Though right now your loving attention strays to his appearance. You must admit: your husband is a hottie. You suspect the tittering co-eds in the first few rows are not as interested in statistical analysis as their rapt attention might suggest.

Professor Bang Chan stands at the front of the hall, dressed down to his shirtsleeves. His suit jacket has been tossed over the desk. His pants are pressed, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, but his neat black hair is just this side of dishevelled, like he has been running his fingers through it.

You slouch in your seat and smile a cheesy smile as you watch him work.

He looks around the hall as he lectures, attentive to every student. In his perusal, his eyes skim the back row. They stop on you.

“And that’s why we, uh, ah…” He stumbles so noticeably that a few heads turn to see what caught his eye. He laughs and waves, drawing their attention again. “Sorry, sorry, as I was saying…”

Your smile only widens. There is a little flutter in your heart as your husband looks at you with a glimmer in his eye. You rest your head on your fist and watch the rest of the lecture without any interruption.

You stay seated when it ends and the students file out. Chan lingers by his desk to sort his papers. You just admire him for a moment, then you make your way down the aisle. He lifts his head, smiling at you.

“Hey, stranger,” he says, shrugging on his jacket. “You’re early.”

“Yeah, I thought traffic would be worse.”

“Hungry?”

“Definitely, Professor,” you say. Your original plans were dinner, but you lift an eyebrow while smirking, suggesting a different kind of hunger entirely.

It makes him laugh, a nervous sort of laugh. You are charmed by the tips of his ears turning red, a testament to your ability to fluster your man well into your marriage.

“What’s wrong, Professor?” you ask, reaching up to touch his face. “Aren’t you hungry too?”

He stares back at you for a moment. His gaze is resolute despite his faint blush. You cannot help your delight.

“Ooh,” you say. “Do you like it when I call you Professor, Professor?”

He finally takes your hand and lowers it.

“I’m a professional,” is what he says, which is definitely not an answer to the question you asked. He kisses your cheek before you can protest his reply, then he winks and grabs his bag. “Come on,” he says, “I just have to put some stuff in my office. Then we’ll go grab dinner.”

You suspend your teasing for the time being, talking about your day as you cross campus in the sunshine. You take the stairs up to the office floor, winding around the labyrinthine assembly of empty offices. It is quite late in the afternoon, plenty of people seemingly packed up and gone for the day.

He unlocks his office and lets you both in. While he goes to his desk to sort his stuff, you close and lock the door. He does not notice your deliberate movements, still talking about mundane nothings. You do love your endless conversations, whether casual or important, but right now you are less preoccupied with Channie than Professor Chan. There is something about seeing your husband like this, smart, competent, confident, and so in charge of his space.

“Baby girl?” he asks, lifting an eyebrow at your slow, slinky approach. “What’s up?”

You circle the desk and lay a hand on his chest, smoothing your palm down his lapel. You swear his eyes somehow darken, narrowing in focus, his whole expression coloured differently than before.

“What are you doing?” he asks.

“I know you’re married, Professor,” you say, blinking oh-so innocently at him. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable… it’s just that I… I need…”

He lets you nudge him back onto the desk chair behind him. He gazes up as you lean over him.

“Baby,” he says, warningly, but does not move or push your hands away.

“We’re all alone, Professor,” you say. “The door is locked. No one will ever find out.”

“Ah. Is that right?” he asks, looking like he is on the verge of giggles. He sighs instead, dropping his chin and shaking his head, playfully disappointed. With another breath, he lifts his head, and your sweet husband dons a more predatory air.

He does not even have to say anything, does not even have to touch you. He just has to look at you with all that desire in his eyes, turning your insides molten. Every dirty thought is plain in how he checks you out.

“I saw you looking at me in class today,” you say, breathless already. “Did you think I looked pretty, Professor?”

“I think,” he says, “I was impressed you were sitting there, actually listening for once.”

You open your mouth to retort, but he touches a shushing finger to your lips. He shakes his head.

“Nuh-uh,” he says. “Tell me what you want before I throw you out of my office.” He cups your jaw, his gaze so clearly centred on your lips.

“Oh, please, don’t do that,” you say. “I need you, Professor. I mean, I need your help.”

“I think you’re beyond help, baby girl,” he says. He momentarily breaks character to glance at the wall, then he looks at you with a quirked brow. “We are at my work, maybe we should—”

“I know you,” you reply.

Because you do. You and your husband are no strangers to roleplay or kinky fun, your desires and boundaries and safewords known. Your backside is still tender from a good spanking the night before, just enough to leave you squirming today. You were pent-up before you even saw Professor Chan administering his lecture. But now that you have, now that you are here, you cannot let it go. And given the way he is looking at you, he feels the same way.

“You’ve been hard since I called you Professor in the lecture hall,” you say.

“Since I saw you sitting in my classroom, actually,” he corrects. “I could fill in the rest with my own imagination. Just… looking at you…” He takes another breath and looks you over. His gaze is heady. “God, you just get me going every time, you know that?”

“I won’t tell if you won’t,” you say with another smirk. Then you pout, batting your eyelashes, as you sink to your knees in front of him. “Please, Professor,” you say. “I’m begging you. I need a good grade or else. I’ll do anything.”

“Anything,” he says. “That’s, ah… that’s a bold statement. Are you sure about that?”

“Of course I am,” you say. You clasp your hands. “Anything at all.”

“You know, a man who is not as nice me could do bad things to you, baby. A pretty girl like you. It’s like you want someone to take advantage of you, yeah?” He cups your jaw and tilts your face up, looking at your mouth thoughtfully, smiling as he circles his thumb over your lips. “They could be really mean to you,” he says. “Make you do things you don’t like. Maybe even hurt you, baby.”

“But you wouldn’t do those things,” you say with a watery sniffle. “You’re a good professor. I can trust you.”

“Of course you can,” he says. With his thumb, he tugs your bottom lip down. It flips back up with a bounce. “I’ll help you then, if you do what I say.”

“Oh yes, of course, Professor, anything,” you say. You start to stand when he puts a hand on your shoulder.

“Naw, naw,” he says. “You stay there for me.”

“On my knees?” You blink up at him. “What for?”

“Tsk. Baby. You know what for.” He pats your head like he would an especially dumb puppy. “You’re just a pretty face,” he says, “but you’re not that stupid. You know what you’re good for at least, don’t you?”

He cups your chin. Before you can reply, his thumb is forcing its way into your mouth, pressing down on your tongue. You wrap your lips around it, staring up at him while sucking diligently.

“That’s it,” he says, and slides free with a wet little pop. “Good job. See?” He speaks with saccharine sweetness, completely condescending as he pats your cheek. “You are good at something.” He unbuttons your shirt with deft swiftness, your breasts already heaving in your low-cut bra when he pushes the material off your shoulders. He laughs to himself as he says, “It’s just the only thing you’re good at is being a dumb slut, but that’s okay, yeah?”

“I… I guess…”

“Shh, it’s okay.” He covers you whole mouth with his hand, tugging you close while he undoes his belt with the other. “You don’t need to talk,” he says. “No one needs to hear what you think. Open your mouth for me. That’s a good girl. Come on. You can take it.”

With a shuffle, he gets his pants open and partially down, enough to get himself out. He is already rock hard as he guides you forward, sliding into your waiting mouth. He grunts with deep, obvious pleasure.

He lets you take over, sitting back while you suck his cock with expert knowledge of exactly what he likes, when to take him deep, when to lick and suck and swallow. You stop for a breath and his cock smacks your cheek. Then suddenly he is standing and taking you with him, wasting no time bending you over his desk.

“Professor!” you say, pushing your ass out with your theatrically scandalized cry. “Oh no, sir, I’ve never done this before, please, ahh—”

He lifts your skirt and tugs your panties to the side, sliding his fingers through all the wet arousal there. He slides two fingers into you easily, with no resistance at all. He leans down and laughs against the nape of your neck.

“I find that hard to believe,” he says, fucking you steadily with his hand. “I think I’m not the only professor you’ve done this for, am I, baby?”

“Ohh,” is all you manage, out of character and genuinely moaning as he works you towards a quick orgasm. “Channie, you’re gonna make me come,” you warn, wriggling.

Your moans turn to pathetic little whimpers when he wraps a strong arm around you, locking you in place as he lines up behind you.

“What’s that?” he asks, holding you tight. It stops you from writhing while he pushes his wet dick inside you, inch by slow inch. “I’m not Channie, am I?” he says. “What do you call me? Huh? Dumb little girl.” He swats your ass and you yelp, clenching around him. “Try again,” he says.

“Oh, Professor,” you say. Then you cannot help but giggle, recalling his evasion when you teased him in the lecture hall. The evidence of his desire says it all. “That really does make you hard,” you laugh, breathlessly, “I can feel you pulsing inside me.”

You squeak when he pushes you down onto the desk, holding your hips as he thrusts into you with more vigour. Then you are not saying anything, just moaning and riding out every quick snap of his hips. You are not sure how he manages to find the softest, squishiest, more sensitive place inside you, every time, no matter the place or position, sending you hurtling towards to an orgasm at breakneck speed.

“Oh, help, Professor, I’m gonna—”

“Me too, baby,” he says. “All inside you.”

“Ohh, fuck—” You come with a shuddering convulsion, twitching and clenching, your eyes closed as you pant into the wooden surface of his desk. Your orgasm ends and he is still fucking you, drawing it out. Your voice is guttural, low and breathy as you say, “Professor, be careful, we have no protection…”

He lifts you up, arches your back, and covers your mouth.

“I… told… you…” He punctuates each sound with a hard thrust. “To… be… quiet…”

Then he drives into you and stays there, groaning into your neck as he comes and comes. When his hand drops, you take in a gulp of air, shivering from the aftershocks of pleasure. You are spilling out of your bra from all the jostling, your skirt in disarray. You whimper when he pulls out of you, then again when he just covers you back up with your panties. They are soaked in a second.

“Maybe, uh,” he says with one of his funny, embarrassed, little giggles. “Maybe we should stop by home and clean up before we go for dinner.”

You giggle too, turning around to face him. You fix your shirt while he tucks himself back into his pants. He is already blushing and smiling that dimpled smile, looking all sweet and goofy as if he didn’t just fuck your brains out on his desk.

“Good idea,” you say. “That’s why you’re the professor.”

He laughs. Looking at you fondly, he cups your cheek and pulls you in for a long, tender kiss.

#bang chan x reader #bang chan smut #chan x reader #chan smut #skz smut #stray kids smut #skz x reader #stray kids x reader #bang chan x you #skz x you #kpop fanfiction #valentinesdaystories #stilestotherescue

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ghostlygeto · 8 months

Text

let me be your mirror | astarion

pairing: astarion x gn!tav / reader

warnings: spoilers for early romance w astarion, fluff, kind of follows canon dialogue, reader pining hard, reader is an artist this has been done with this exact scenario surely, astarion calls reader “darling”, “my sweet”, also “dove” which isn’t canon, reader and astarion aren’t really together but i mean. yeah they are. not proof read!!!!!

word count: 1.1k

you had been drawing astarion for much longer than you’d care to admit. though the dates scribbled on the bottom of each page betrayed you, exposing that you had drawn astarion close to every day for a month.

it started off innocently, you drew all of your party members when you had first met them. you were stressed and overwhelmed with your situation at hand, the tadpole snugly sat behind your eye squirming to remind you of your devastating truth: you’d soon become a mindflayer if you couldn’t find a cure. on nights you couldn’t sleep or mornings you’d woken up early, you found yourself drawing. it had always been a way you’d let off your steam, now was no exception.

when the stress of your situation died down, as did your drawings of your now friends. you had a couple day’s worth of gale and lae’zel, and probably a week of shadowheart. but astarion? it seemed every time your tool of choice hit the paper he had been the outcome.

you weren’t ashamed of it by any means. astarion is a gorgeous man, blood sucking monster or not. his eyes captivated you (as proven by the amount of drawings of them alone), and his voice had your attention like no other. if the nature of things were any different, you might be willing to confess you were in love with him.

so when the night came and everyone had fallen asleep but the two of you, and astarion had let it slip that he hadn’t seen his reflection in two hundred years, your heart broke. he didn’t know the way his curls hooked around his ears, or the way the corners of his mouth would turn up ever so slightly when he’d successfully kill a goblin. and his eyes, gods his eyes. you’d have to be dense to miss the way they light up at the very sight of you. knowing he didn’t get to enjoy the very things you adore about him devastated you.

“what color were they before?” you asked, arms wrapped tightly around your legs to hug them close to your chest. “your eyes, before you were turned.” your cheek pressed against your knee as you looked to him.

“my eyes?” astarion sounded surprised you’d asked him such a thing. “i don’t..i don’t remember.”

that felt like the final nail in your coffin. your heart ached more for him now that it had before, if that were even possible. if he didn’t remember his eye color, his hair color was probably long forgotten as well. it felt impossible to wrap your head around, you knew the shade of your eyes and tone of your hair by heart. the idea of forgetting it, well, you were sure you’d have to be dead to forget.

“what’s going on in that head of yours, darling?” his tone almost made you forget your sadness. it seemed anytime he spoke to you now his words were laced with honey, drawing you in and sticking to you.

“you haven’t seen yourself in two decades,” you repeat his previous words back to him, “you hardly remember your own face, is that not the least bit devastating to you?”

astarion hesitated before replying to you, trying to chose his words carefully. “of course it is. but there’s nothing i can do to change it, so why bother being upset?”

you chewed the inside of your cheek. of course you had the solution. you had probably close to twenty drawings of his face alone that could provide him some solace about the entire thing. but what if he thought you were weird for it? none of them knew of your little hobby, he could expose it to the others and they could cast you out for invading their privacy. and well, your infatuation toward him was nothing short of romantic. you weren’t sure he needed to know that, but exposing your drawings to him would make it clear.

“i can feel your tadpole wriggling around, what’s wrong, my sweet?” his voice sent a shiver down your spine before you finally managed to speak.

“let me be your mirror,” you offered, raising your head from your knees. you could practically see his thought process, and you didn’t miss the small smirk on his face. “what do you want to know?”

“i want to know what the world sees when it looks at me,” astarion held his usual cocky tone for a moment, but for a second it faultered. “what you see.”

“close your eyes,” he obeyed, wondering what it was exactly you were making him close them for. it wasn’t until he heard shuffling in your tent beside him that he opened them and called out to you confused.

“what are you doing? what in your tent could ever allow you to be my mirror?”

“hush, would you?” you roll your eyes at him as you step out from your shelter and back toward him. you took a deep breath before sitting back down next to him, offering him the pile of papers. “here.”

for the first time since you had met him, astarion was speechless. he wasn’t sure what he was expecting from you, maybe a few put together compliments for him to tease you about before leaving the conversation at that. but this? he had no idea that you could draw, let alone that you’d use such a talent to draw someone like him.

“i know it might be weird, sorry,” you hide your face from him, afraid of his reaction. “i’m sure it might not be comforting to know someone you had barely known until recently has been drawing you for-”

“i don’t find it weird,” he interrupted you, gently grabbing your chin with his pointer finger and thumb, “look at me,” guiding your eyes to his, astarion offered you a smile. not a cocky smile or his usual smirk, but rather a real smile. one you weren’t sure you’d seen from him before. “thank you…for this. they’re beautiful. and i…i could never express my gratitude to you,”

you removed your chin from his hold and waved your hand at him, dismissing his words. “don’t say all that astarion. you make an amazing muse, it’d be criminal of me to not make use of that.” you chose to pretend the burning in your cheeks had been from the fire and not the blooming embarrassment.

“criminal, hm?” it didn’t take long for the astarion you had grown attached to to return, smirk plastered on his face. he leaned forward to press his forehead to yours before speaking again, his voice low and almost sultry, “well we wouldn’t want you to get arrested again, now would we, dove?”

“you ruined the moment, astarion,” you huff, pulling your legs back to your chest to rest your head on your knees again. “it’s getting late. we should sleep.”

astarion nodded, standing from his place and offering you his hand to help you up. “yes, i’d hate for a lack of sleep to ruin your muse,” he teased again, handing you back your drawings. “i’ll see you in the morning, darling.”

reblogs, comments, and likes appreciated !!

#astarion #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion baldurs gate #baldurs gate x reader #mine !!#bg3 x reader #astarion fic #astarion drabble #astarion fluff

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koolades-world · 1 year

Text

Exclusive Mc Privileges: Side Character Edition

I don't know Raphael well enough to include him yet, so I'm sorry about that. To any Raphael fans out there, let me know how I can pay you back. I'm on lesson 41 right now lol

Diavolo

Sitting in his lap during important meetings and playing with his hair

Drawing on his arm and him displaying it proudly no matter what it is

Playing dress up in finery

Shopping sprees!

Becoming his royal hand holder <3

Cheering him on while he's doing paperwork and bringing him treats

Sneaking out together so he can show you his favorite spots in the Devildom

Having sleepovers weekly so he can learn more about "human culture"

Barbatos

Interrupting his castle duties with no consequences

Leaving you love notes for you to find throughout the day

Helping with your homework

Exchanging recipes

Brushing his hair!

Helping cook and getting as many tastes as you want

Freeing all the rats you find in the castle outside for him

Spending all his free time with you

Simeon

Helping him learn more about computers even if he's asked this question ten times already

Getting best massages in the three realms

Moonbathing

Helping him bake

Writing his scripts for him when his hands hurt

Getting to look at old concepts and manuscripts

Being his muse <3

Feeding him snacks

Solomon

Reorganizing his potions ingredients because it's always a mess

Dancing among the stars together

Attempting to teach him to cook (and failing)

Teaching him how to be hip and cool

Letting you admire his various pact marks and hearing the stories behind each one

Lets you style his hair differently just to see what he would look like

Forgiving you each and every time you set him on fire during lessons

Luke

Ruffling his hair

Tucking him into bed at night

Always being the first person to sample his desserts

Sharing concept ideas with you about new dessert ideas

Helping him deal with the brothers and their teasing

Ironing his clothes

Giving him piggy back rides and boosts to higher areas

Doing homework together that he's to afraid to ask a demon for help with

Thirteen

Braiding and styling her hair

Doing her makeup!

Throwing snacks and candy into each other's mouths

Getting sneak peaks into her latest pranks

Taking turns drawing on various sleeping people's faces to see who can do the most without waking them up

Having mini fashion shows that are mostly just her admiring you

Taking lots of pictures on your phone when you're not looking

Mephisto

Kidnapping and having free reign of his cane

Hitting him with the cane (lovingly)

Teasing him about Diavolo and Lucifer

Showing his affection for you in front of the brothers

Adding cute bows to his hair

Looking over drafts for the school paper

Learning how to horseback ride

Squishing his man titties

#obey me #obey me!#obey me x reader #obey me diavolo #obey me simeon #obey me luke #obey me thirteen #obey me mephistopheles #obey me side characters #obey me x mc #obey me x you #obey me barbatos #obey me solomon

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satoruhour · 7 months

Note

sliding down a wall in agony over gojo and his undercut rn.... wanna run my hands across it and then pull on his hair while he's eating pussy i'm SOO NORMAL OMG

a/n: OH MY GOD ! peep i have a fluffy drabble of it here muahahaha

warnings: fem!reader, making out, fingering, oral (f! receiving), clit stimulation, implied multiple rounds, n*sfw under the cut

gojo sighs when you meet his lips after a long day. he hasn’t even gotten past the genkan when you’re already leaning forward to engulf him in your love. without effort, he removes his shoes while wrapping his arms around you. no words are exchanged; you know it’s been a long day for satoru from the way his shoulders sag and he doesn’t greet you with the happiest of tones.

he silently walks you into your shared home, humming into your lips as his initial stress and frustration subsides into love and he brings your arms around his neck. he uses his tongue to nudge your lips and you willingly open your mouth, letting him play with your tongue as the kiss turns sloppy.

you let him have his way, hands feeling all up your body as he mutters something equivalent to jump and you pull away briefly to admire his swollen glossy lips and his tousled hair. you hop into his arms and moan softly at the hands on your ass, fingers knowing where to go even though you were so damn engrossed in locking lips with him.

they tug off his blindfold and his hair comes tumbling down, fingertips digging into the back of his head. they’re as short as always, prickly strands that feel oddly blunt from how much you run your hand over it everyday. from there, your hand massages the back of his head and it quells his headache briefly. gojo sighs and releases your lips with a soft ‘pop’, kissing down your neck as you continue to glide your hand over the fuzzy hairs and back up. with a soft tug on his strands, his mouth drops in a silenced gasp.

“oh yeah . . feel good?” you whisper, so fragile with gojo’s love that if you speak even a decibel above that you fear you might break the tension. gojo nods, going back to sucking on your neck while you play with his hair, but his way of distressing involves stripping you down, too—

with hushed praises against your physique, satoru pecks his way down your body, giving attention to all your sensitive areas before coming right down to your cunt. there’s already a wet patch that is soaked through the fabric, and for the first time that night, your lover speaks.

“so pretty f’r me, always . .” it’s a little raspy from the lack of use, but you know he’s about to go back into wordless groans by the way he peels away your underwear and sighs at your wetness. gojo licks off your arousal from your panties with a small grin, a glint in his eyes that suggests he can’t let a drop go to waste.

the fabric is across the room by then and your legs trapped in his upper arms, tongue drawing out the sweetest moans from you as he gives your clit teasing kitten licks.

“baby— b-baby . . satoru—” all he does is flit his eyes to you, deep blues staring you down below his stark white lashes and he holds it. even as you squirm around on the couch and dig your heels into his back, he doesn’t waver. he then gathers some saliva and spits onto your pussy, rubbing it in with a whimper — it’s all he can do when you continue to leak arousal.

“s’good, your tongue’s so— f-fuck!” more and more and more, you drip onto the sofa that again, he takes his curious tongue and licks it right up from your asshole and collects every drop of your nectar. he slurps it all up before he starts his merciless assault.

gojo gets all in there, eating you out like a starved man and slobbering over your cunt, flicking and sucking at your clit over and over to the point where you don’t know where you are. the grasping hands on the sofa does nothing, so you settle instead for his hair. they feel much much different now, the short hairs of his undercut feeling sharp and vivid through your fingertips because of how sensitive your body was. his eyes flutter close, upper body pushed into your pelvis so eagerly.

your hands stall for a bit when you notice satoru is grinding down onto the sofa — your pussy tastes so good it has gojo satoru humping whatever for some relief — but your focus is back again when he prods at your hole with a finger. with one swift push, he inserts it and the wandering hands all over his undercut moves up to pull.

gojo moans into your cunt at the intoxicating and burning feeling on his scalp, finger pumping faster in you that it has you closing your thighs around him. he’s too drunk on your pussy to care that he’s coming up short of breath, letting you ride his tongue. your fingers card through his hair, tugging, releasing, tugging, it’s an endless cycle that drags him into your cunt over and over.

“close— c— g-god!” you moan out loud, head thrown back and vision turning white once he plunges his second finger into your cunt and you clamp down on him so tightly that gojo has trouble pistoning them into you. there’s a mantra of his name on your lips as you pull the harshest you’ve ever done to his hair, the other gripping the back of the couch. you grind your hips into his relentless mouth, hearing yourself drip down his chin as you cum all over his face.

“pretty, pretty pussy . . mmhm . .” satoru mumbles, fixated on how his fingers disappear in you, “can you give me another, darling?” his lids are hooded and he’s sleepy and it’s clear he isn’t talking to you. when he starts to pump his fingers again, the lewd sclick! that sounds out makes him lick his lips, “thaat’s the answer i want . .”

#anon #asks #I FELL ASLEEP ....#after this im going back to sleep it’s 7am here dawg #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk gojo #jjk x you #jjk gojo x reader #gojo smut #gojo satoru smut #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo satoru x reader #satoru gojo x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen smut

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bucksangel · 8 months

Text

milk and honey

pairing: alpha!Steve x alpha!Bucky, alpha!Steve x artist!omega!reader x alpha!bucky (poly)

word count: 7.9k

Summary: “Are you sure about this, Steve?” Bucky just needs to be sure, needs to know his boyfriend is certain before they try this again. And by the way Steve nods eagerly, he knows this time might be different.

“Okay, we’ll give it a shot”

or - alpha’s Bucky and Steve decide to bring an omega into their relationship.

Warnings: fluff out the assssss, flirting, reader is a little awkward, there are parts where it’s just Steve and Bucky, kissing, omegaverse, bucky is a tease, steve is very fond, handjobs, wet dreams, allusions to sex, 18+

a/n: this fic is dedicated to my heart and soul @buckysbarne

milk and honey masterlist | main masterlist | tip jar

“Hi! How can I help you?” A soft, honeyed voice sounds through the air, flowing up to Steve’s ears and making his skin tingle. He suddenly feels warm all over, and not because of the thick coat covering his broad shoulders to prevent the crisp autumn wind whipping outside from stinging his skin.

Slowly, he turns around, swallowing thickly at the sight before him.

A beautiful, young Omega with eyes that sparkle in the natural sunlight that shines through the floor-to-ceiling windows. Her hair is pulled away from her face as best as possible and there are splatters of paint on the apron wrapped around her torso, as well as specks on her fingers. And her scent, oh God, the scent wafting up to his nostrils makes him want to rumble and puff out his chest, lavender and vanilla mixed with something undeniably and uniquely sweet that makes it hard for him to not lean forward and bury his face in the Omegas neck.

“Um, sir?” The Omega asks again, brows furrowed.

“S-Sorry, I, uh…” Steve trails off, clearing his throat. “I’m looking to get back into drawing, and I saw your studio as I was walking back to my apartment and thought I’d come in to see what you have.”

The Omega nods, a bright smile stretching across her face. “Well, I can show you around if you want? Do you have any specific mediums or pencils you were thinking of?”

Steve nods, a smile of his own now etched onto his face. “Yeah, that’d – that would be great. And, um, I don’t really know what I’m looking for. I used to draw with charcoal pencils, but I kind of want to branch out, you know?”

She nods again, her smile widening. “Yeah! Here,” she turns and waves her hand, indicating for Steve to follow her, “I have a bunch of different kinds of paper, and pens, we also have canvases, oh! And paints are over here.”

Steve trails behind her dumbly, nodding along to everything the pretty Omega says and listening to every word that spills out from her glossy lips – and for a moment he wonders if it’s flavored, cherry maybe, then thinks of kissing them to find out.

He doesn’t do that. Of course not. He’s only just met her, yet there’s already just something about her that makes him swoon. She makes him feel alive, like only Bucky can.

Suddenly, though, he’s slamming into her, not having realized she’d stopped in front of him until it was too late. But before she could fall back, Steve reaches for her hips to keep her upright.

The Omega squeals and grasps Steve’s biceps to steady herself. But, even after they’re both back in place, neither one of them removes their hold on the other. It’s silent for a moment, growing tense as Steve stares down at the pretty Omega he’s now holding. And the Omega, this beautiful little thing, is staring back up at him, mouth opening and closing as though she’s trying to find her words.

And after a few more tense moments, she finds them.

“S-Sir?”

“Steve,” he says quickly. “Um, my name is Steve.”

__________

“My name is Steve.”

Steve.

This man, Steve, is still holding on to your hips, and you can’t help but lightly squeeze his biceps, trying your hardest to not let out another squeak. He’s just so… manly. With his big, capable hands, biceps that you can feel through his coat, and his mouthwatering scent - bergamot and patchouli. There’s also an underlying smell of pure Alpha, the aura that surrounds this man would naturally pull any sane Omega in its orbit.

It takes a moment, but you’re able to snap out of your trance long enough to mumble your name. This makes Steve smile, repeating your name softly before squeezing at your hips and realizing, all at once, how little space there is between you two. Some part of your hindbrain wants to whine at the thought of leaving his space, but you pull away, nonetheless.

“Um, I-“ You try to think of something to say, something to make things a little less tense, and when you glance to your right you see a variety of canvases and remember that you’re at work.

“So, uh, were you thinking of any… pencils you might want?”

Steve clears his throat and nods, smiling at you again.

“Whatever you think is best.”

And that’s how Steve bought way more than you suspect he’ll actually use. But just as he finishes paying, you start fiddling with your fingers, swallowing thickly. You want to say something, maybe give him a reason to come back so you can bask in his presence again. And then, a lightbulb goes off in your head.

“I’m hosting an art class in a couple of weeks! And, um, if - if you want to come then I can give you a flyer.”

The smile that Steve gives you is bright, and he starts nodding his head before you even finish the sentence.

“Yeah!” Steve coughs, trying - and failing - to cover up any semblance of desperation in his tone. “That sounds fun.”

You smile at him, your heart beating ever faster. Christ, anyone would think you’d never met an Alpha before. Steve opens his mouth, ready to say something until his phone starts ringing.

His soft sigh is barely audible, grumbling about ‘bad timing.” When he pulls his phone out, he looks up at you with a remorseful smile,

“Sorry, guess I have to go now.”

You shake your head, “No, it’s fine. Here’s the flier.”

“Of course,” Steve says softly, then takes the paper and gives you a wave before turning and walking out of the store.

____________

The door nearly slams open, Steve cringing as he remembers not to use so much strength when nudging the door open with his elbow. But, hey, he has his arms full of art supplies so he can’t use his hands.

“Babe? What’s with all the noise – what the fuck?” Bucky asks incredulously, hands placed on his hips as he stops a few feet from the front door.

“Oh, hey. Do you mind helping me out?” Steve asks with a chuckle, walking further into the apartment and shutting the door with a push of his foot. Bucky sighs but walks towards him with an outstretched arm anyway.

“So,” Bucky says, grabbing a few of the bags and bringing them to the living room. “What’s all this?”

“Oh…” Steve trails off, placing the rest of the bags onto the couch and fiddling with the end of his shirt nervously. “Well, I went to the new art studio that’s down the block.”

“Yeah, I see that.” Bucky laughs, peeking into one of the bags and raising an eyebrow. “Did you buy out the whole store?”

Steve sighs, rolling his eyes. “No, I didn’t, thank you very much. I just want to start drawing again, you know that.”

“I do,” Bucky confirms with a nod. “But I feel like you’re hiding something from me considering you hate oil paints and yet there are several different kinds in here.”

Right then Steve’s heartbeat speeds up, his face warming. And he silently curses himself for being so easy to make flustered. Especially considering Bucky, his mate, can feel through their bond that Steve’s nervous.

“Well, you see-“ Steve coughs, bringing up a hand to scratch at the back of his neck. “I was talking with the owner and she… God, Buck, I think she might be… we’ve been talking about maybe courting an Omega. And I think she could be what we’re looking for. She’s so sweet, so beautiful, just so… perfect. And her scent, oh God. Other than yours, it’s the sweetest thing I’ve ever smelt.”

For a minute Bucky doesn’t say anything, his hands return to his hips as he thinks over Steve’s words carefully. After all, they have talked about courting an Omega, they’ve even talked to a few, but none had ever gone far. They just haven’t seemed to find the perfect one for them, so Bucky is naturally a little skeptical. But then he looks into Steve’s eyes, he sees how they sparkle, the way his bottom lip is trapped between his teeth, and the sincerity in his voice just seems to win him over.

“Are you sure about this, Stevie?” Bucky asks skeptically, but he just needs to be sure, needs to know his boyfriend is certain before they try this again. And by the way Steve nods eagerly, he knows this time might be different.

“Okay, we’ll give it a shot.”

____________

Three days later it’s another chilly day, the clouds hanging overhead and the light rain have sucked all the warmth out of the air. The heater in the studio is on low, yet high enough to warm the space comfortably without it being too overwhelming.

Due to the rain and cold, there weren’t many people in the studio. In fact, it’s just you. There have been only a handful of customers coming in today, so you sent your coworker, Tori, to the back so she could study.

And since everything had been organized and cleaned over an hour ago you find yourself sitting at your easel, tongue poking out of your mouth and eyebrows furrowed in concentration. You’ve been here for the last hour, so focused on your painting that you don’t hear the bell ring above the door.

You also don’t hear the footsteps approaching behind you, so you can’t help but let out a slight scream whenever someone taps on your shoulder. Jumping in shock, it takes everything you have to not knock into your easel.

“Sorry, darling, I didn’t mean to scare you,” Comes a voice from behind you, deep and soothing. And you can feel your heartbeat increase further, and not because of the scare. No, this man, clearly an Alpha, has a voice that makes you nearly weak in the knees.

Turning, your eyes widen. The most handsome man stands in front of you, wearing a tight red Henley under a leather jacket. His gloved hands rest on your forearms, helping you off your stool in such a way that you don’t knock over your painting. The man’s hands are huge, able to encompass your entire forearm and then some.

It takes a moment to realize that you’re staring, mouth parted and face flushed as you step back to a respectful distance.

“N-no, it’s fine! I should have been paying attention,” You clear your throat to hide the fact that your voice wavers a bit, but the stranger’s smile lets you know that it didn’t work.

You can’t help it though. His smile, though small, is comforting and kind. His deep blue eyes twinkle with mischief, and you can’t stop the heat rising to your cheeks. His beard isn’t thick per se, but just thick enough to complete his rugged look, something that makes you melt. But you kick those thoughts out of your head to the best of your ability until you’re finally able to speak.

“How can I help you?”

____________

“How can I help you?”

Bucky gets it, understands what Steve was saying about the pretty Omega he thought would be perfect for them. He’s heard only a handful of words come out of your mouth, yet he feels his chest tighten, his heart clenching as he exercises a considerable amount of restraint from encasing you in his arms, pulling you into his chest.

His hands itch to touch you, to run them over your soft-looking skin. And he can’t help the less innocent thoughts that cross his mind, really feeling your body, caressing. And, to be quite honest, these… intense emotions kind of startle him, because the only person he’s ever felt this way with was Steve.

Nevertheless, he follows his instincts, something deep in him knows that Steve was right when he said you’d be perfect for them.

“I’m waiting for my…” Bucky trails off, thinking about whether he should tell you he has a mate or not, then decides against it. If you knew he wasn’t single you probably wouldn’t be open to his advances, and would probably think it’s weird for a mated Alpha to be flirting with you. After all, two mated Alphas aren’t exactly common, and, to be honest, they can be a little intense together.

“My friend. And I haven’t seen this studio before.” Bucky gives you a cheeky smile, trying not to laugh as he sees you fiddling with your fingers, glancing down as though you’re avoiding his gaze.

“I’m Bucky,” He reaches his hand out, letting you slowly put yours in his before he squeezes lightly, rubbing his thumb along the back of your hand.

You give him your name with a squeak, flushed and nervous in a good way.

“It’s nice to meet you, Bucky,” you’re stumbling over your words slightly, and Bucky really can’t stop himself from smiling.

“And it’s lovely to meet you, darling.” Bucky holds his breath, cautiously waiting for your reaction toward the pet name. But it seems like he doesn’t have to worry, because the tiny squeak of delight that spills from your lips confirms to him that you’re, at the very least, open to his advances.

“S-so, um. Did you want to look around?”

Bucky smiles, shaking his head and finally releasing your hand. “The main reason I stepped in here was that I saw the poster in the window about an art class you’re hosting soon. I thought I’d come in so you can meet your new student.”

“Oh!” You smile brightly, wiping your hands along the front of your apron. “I’d love it if you could come! To be honest, I’ve only had a handful of people confirm that they will. I was kind of thinking of canceling, honestly.”

“Oh, don’t do that. There are plenty of people who’d love to come, your business is new so it’s going to take some time for your clientele to grow. Plus, I’ll be sure to tell all of my friends.” While he already hates the idea of other people - especially his unmated Alpha friends - getting personal time with you, he also hates how dejected you sounded about possibly canceling the class.

“Oh, gosh,” Your voice is soft, your eyes twinkling in the bright, natural light. “Well, that’d be very kind of you.”

Bucky chuckles, nodding. “Don’t worry about it, darling. Plus, it’ll be nice to see you again.”

Once again, a small noise from the back of your throat makes its way up and out of your mouth. And he can hear your heartbeat speed up, can see the look of embarrassment clear on your face.

And just as you’re about to reply, Bucky’s phone dings. He sighs, pulling it out and glancing down at it.

“Well, I’m sorry to do this, but I have to go now,” He smirks at you, giving you a wink so slight you’d miss it if you weren't staring directly into his eyes.

You nod, giving him a shy and awkward smile. “No, it’s fine! Besides, I’ll see you at the class, right?”

“Oh,” Bucky chuckles, placing one of his gloved hands on your forearm and squeezing tenderly, “I wouldn’t miss it.”

____________

“Who the fuck was that?” A voice behind you says, and when you turn you see it’s Tori looking exasperated.

“I have no idea,” Your voice is small, still unbelieving of what just happened. Your arm still tingles from where he squeezed. You then turn to look back toward the door, a tiny part of you wishing he’d come back in.

“Why do you get all the flirty Alphas? I want my turn!” Her comment makes you laugh, and you can see a hint of a smile cracking through her faux-angered expression.

“They’re bringing their friends to the art class, maybe you’ll meet one too. Besides…” You trail off bringing your hand up to rub your arm. “Maybe he wasn’t even flirting? I mean, I haven’t lived here long, but a lot of the Alphas that come in here are really nice. Like Steve!”

You were hoping to convince not only her but yourself as well, desperately trying not to read too far into their actions. They could just be friendly, a little touchy but not overbearingly so. Whatever the case, Tori lightly smacks your arm.

“Babe, Steve was flirting with you too.” She rolls her eyes, placing her hands on your shoulders. “You may be shy, but you’re not stupid. They like you! And you need to accept that and go for it.”

“Okay, let’s say they do like me… there’s two of them and one of me. I don’t know if I’d be able to choose between them, especially since I don’t even know them. I wouldn’t want to lead one of them on.” Sighing, your eyebrows furrow, now fiddling with your fingers in anxiety.

Because, let’s be honest, you’re not one hundred percent certain that they were, in fact, flirting with you. Maybe they really are just being nice, maybe that’s how they are with a lot of people. Because Alphas like them don’t like Omegas like you; shy, awkward, introverted, too easily flustered, and so clumsy that there is absolutely no way you wouldn’t embarrass yourself in front of them at some point.

But it’s fine, because maybe they won’t show up to the class, maybe they’ll have to cancel and you can stay within your comfort zone. Change is scary, meeting new people and - possibly - dating them is scary, and you’ve never really been one to take risks.

Maybe that’s why part of you is hoping they’re not actually interested. However, you cannot deny the fact you’re interested in them. But, if things happen you want them to happen naturally, yet from beside you, Tori hums thoughtfully. In the seconds of silence that follows you know she’s planning on meddling. But before you can tell her to please not do that, she claps her hands together.

“Don’t worry about it! I’ll help.” With that, she turns and goes back to the back office, leaving you to stew in your thoughts.

____________

Bucky coughs, clearing his throat, then chuckles when Steve jumps in surprise. One of Bucky’s hands settles on his mate’s waist while looking at the bag of food in Steve’s hand.

“You get everything?”

Steve scoffs, moving Bucky’s hand off of his waist and lacing their fingers together. And as they start walking Bucky can hear his mate’s heartbeat pick up, and he smiles to himself. “Yeah, I did. Now…” Steve trails off, running his tongue over his bottom lip before biting it. Bucky squeezes his hand in comfort.

“How did it go?”

Bucky hums, cheeks reddening as he remembers your sweet voice and beautiful smile. While he is able to steel his exterior and become this suave Alpha, he’s really just a teddy bear on the inside. He craves love, he craves touch. And while he loves Steve with everything he has, he has to admit that, even though he’s just met you, he knows you’ll be able to give him the same feelings Steve does.

“God, Stevie…” Bucky sighs, looking over at his love. “I get it. I get what you were saying about her. She’s just - just the loveliest Omega I’ve ever met. And, I swear to God, I wanted to just wrap her in my arms. She might be right for us, Stevie.”

Steve chuckles, his eyes sparkling with joy at hearing his mate confirm his instinct that you’d be perfect for them. One block later they get to their apartment, go inside, and set the food down on the table.

“So, how do you want to approach her about it?” Steve asks as he grabs the plates while Bucky gets out the food.

“Well, she said that she’s hosting an art class, we can go to that.”

“I don’t know, babe,” Steve sighs, setting the plates down and sitting in his chair. “Don’t you think that would be a little… intense? Plus, it’s not common for two Alphas to be mated to each other, what if she’s uncomfortable with it?”

Bucky nods, grabbing drinks and setting one down in front of the other man. “Well, we’ll just talk to her one at a time then. We’ll go in on different days and get her to warm up to us before then.” At Steve’s pensive sigh, Bucky crouches, placing one hand on the back of his neck.

He knows Steve really wants this to work out. He’s a true romantic, and anyone who has ever met Steve knows within the first thirty seconds of talking to him that Bucky is the love of his life. He also knows Steve sometimes needs more, and it’s become worse the more potential mates they meet. And Bucky will be damned if he doesn’t give Steve everything he wants and needs.

“It’s going to be fine, Stevie.” Bucky then leans forward, placing a soft and lingering kiss on the other man’s lips. And he keeps kissing him until Steve hums against his lips.

“You promise?” Steve mumbles softly, eyes still closed.

“I promise.”

____________

Ever since the day you met Bucky, he’s been coming to your studio more and more. Only buying a few items at a time, some of which you’re pretty sure he’s not actually interested in, though he spends most of his time talking to you. And it’s a give-and-take with the conversation. Sometimes Bucky will ask a question and you’ll ramble for twenty minutes on the subject before realizing and promptly shutting your mouth.

Then there are times when Bucky is more so talking at you. Sometimes you just get so anxious that you get a little quiet, deathly afraid of saying anything embarrassing to the very handsome Alpha who likes to spend his time talking with you of all people.

And it’s confusing. And getting harder and harder to convince yourself that the Alpha has no intentions other than simply getting to know you. Every smile he gives you makes you weak in the knees, the way his eyes crinkle and his nose scrunches just make you want to melt.

Not to mention the subtle touches every so often. Whether it’s by stepping around you down one of the aisles and placing his hand on your waist to “steady you” should you fall, or by letting his hand graze yours for longer than it should when you hand him his bags, he’s gotten steadily more forward, though none of it is unwelcome. And maybe he can tell by each of your surprised yet pleased squeaks you let out whenever he shows off how good of an Alpha he is - including but not limited to doing the heavy lifting when you have to move some products onto the sales floor, bringing you coffee after you offhandedly mentioned your favorite cafe, and telling you about how he’s fixed up his motorcycle from the ground up, wordlessly showing that he’s mechanically and physically capable.

And on the sixth visit, exactly three days before your class, Bucky comes in once more at exactly noon. He tends to come in around your lunch break, knowing that you typically just paint in the studio while slowly taking bites of whatever food you brought. You’re in the back office sorting through some paperwork when you hear the bell ding above the front door. You don’t worry about going out to greet whoever just came in since Tori was there helping out.

You hear her chipper “Hi! How are you?” and for a moment your eyebrows furrow in confusion. Because who could she possibly be talking to that warrants a little too much enthusiasm?

The voice that responds makes your heart beat a tiny bit faster, the low and raspy tone saying something about visiting a ‘friend’. And then it hits you, it’s Bucky.

Another thought hits you mere seconds later, fuck, Tori’s out there.

And just as that crosses your mind you can hear Tori ask him, “So, you’re Bucky, right?”

Before you have time to think you’re rushing out of the back office, doing your best to listen to their conversation as you speed down the hall.

Bucky chuckles, and you can hear the smile in his voice when he responds “Yeah, how’d you know?”

You can also tell Tori is smiling when she starts talking again. “Oh, I’ve heard about you once or twice. My friend is the owner of this place, the one you’ve been flirting with, you know?”

You finally turn the corner and face the pair, Tori’s back to you while Bucky looks back at you. You can’t miss the wide smirk on his lips, his pleased scent slowly pouring out from him.

“Yeah? I’ve been flirting?” Bucky winks at you over Tori’s shoulder, apparently finding humor in watching you get flustered.

“Mhm,” She says, crossing her arms over her chest. “You know, from what she says, I think you like her. And she -” Suddenly she’s being cut off by your hand slapping over her mouth, appearing behind her and grasping her arm with your other hand.

“Okay! That’s it, you have to study!” You snap, glancing up at Bucky’s amused face for half a second before turning Tori around and shoving her toward the back office. “And don’t come out until you’re done with all three chapters!”

Tori huffs then rolls her eyes and trails off, leaving you and Bucky alone. And you feel like you’re on fire, like there’s no part of you that isn’t burning to the touch. Subconsciously your fingers start fiddling with each other, and you can’t bring yourself to look the Alpha in the eye.

“Hey,” He says softly, though still humorous. “It’s okay. She was right, you know?”

You hum in confusion, finally looking up at him even though it takes a lot of willpower to not look away. “What do you mean?”

“I was flirting with you. Is that okay?”

You’re no longer burning up, no. You’re ice cold now. It’s almost as if you’ve fallen into the seas surrounding the Antarctic and everything seems to slow down. Bucky’s been flirting with you? An Alphas been flirting with you? This Alpha? Your heart wants to beat out of your chest and your skin tingles, what are you going to do? What are you going to say?

“Oh.” Apparently, that’s all you can decide on, though you’re snapped out of your haze upon seeing Bucky’s face fall slightly. “No! It’s - I mean, it’s o-okay, if you… you know, are.” Internally you cringe, of all times to trip over your words, it just has to be now.

“Well, I’m glad.” Bucky smiles again, and you find yourself getting lost in his eyes, in the soft gaze and deep ocean-blue hue. A squeak escapes your lips knowing that his fond expression is directed at and because of you.

“I can’t stay long today, unfortunately. But…” Bucky trails off, slipping your hand into his and gently rubbing his thumb along the back of it. “I just wanted to come by and ask if I could treat you to lunch after the class on Saturday.”

“Like… like a - a date?” You ask, voice barely above a whisper. Your head is spinning, and you’re positive that Bucky can tell your nerves are building.

“Well, it doesn’t have to be a date. Even though I’d very much like it to be.” Bucky smiles, giving you his best puppy dog eyes, earning him a soft yet cautious giggle.

Now, you’re not too sure what to do. Over the past week or so that you’ve known him you’ve become enamored with him. You enjoy his company, he makes you feel safe, and the fact that he listens to your rambling with rapt attention makes you preen.

But, you have to take a moment to gather your thoughts. Because mere hours ago Steve had come in asking the same question - though he had suggested dinner.

Steve has also been coming in quite frequently, though he mostly spends time with you as you paint. He comes in first thing in the morning, knowing that your business is usually slower so he can have more of your attention.

He’s not as forward as Bucky is, but that doesn’t mean he hasn’t shown any interest. His approach is more careful; lingering glances, not-so-subtly checking you out whenever he thinks you’re not paying attention, the way his gaze drops to your lips every so often whenever you’re speaking to him. Not to mention the way he always compliments your artwork. It’s all so… charming.

His mischievous yet chivalrous persona could pull anyone in, including you. Not to mention, Steve’s bright smile and deep laugh just make your inner Omega want to tilt your head and bare your neck to him.

Interactions with him give you similar feelings when you’re with Bucky, making everything overwhelmingly confusing. Because, like you told Tori, you’d hate to lead one of them on, but you can already tell you’re developing romantic feelings for both Alphas.

And hours ago you’d given Steve a timid ‘yes’ when he asked you out. What are you supposed to do? Suddenly, your lonely inner Omega forcefully pushes its way past all of your negative thoughts and ever-growing anxiety to give Bucky the same answer.

“Okay.” Despite your inner turmoil, Bucky’s bright smile and unfairly cute nose scrunch settle any nerves you’ve been feeling.

“Yeah?” Bucky asks, hopeful.

“Yes, I-I’d love to go on a… date. With you.” This time you can’t stop the way you physically cringe at your awkwardness, though Bucky only seems to find it endearing because he laughs softly.

“Awesome,” Bucky breathes out, giving you the softest gaze you’ve ever received, and the amount of restraint it takes for you to not melt into his arms is astounding. “I have to go now, but I’ll see you Saturday, yeah?”

“Y-yeah! Of course,” Your voice goes a little high. Jesus Christ, why does he have to be so charming?

At that, the Alpha brings your hand up to his lips at the same time he leans forward and presses a lingering, gentle kiss to your knuckles, looking you in the eye all the while. And the squeak that escapes your lips would almost embarrass you if you weren’t having an out-of-body experience.

“Okay, darling.”

Bucky releases your hand, walks back a few steps, gives you a wink, and then turns around to leave, sparing you one last glance before exiting.

____________

Soft. Warm. Gentle.

Everything is coated in golden honey, cotton-candy clouds, an ever-flowing river.

It’s ecstasy, his body aflame as it moves, rocking forward, pulling back, then pushing forward again. His eyes roll to the back of his head, and short and breathy gasps fill his ears as grunts and groans travel up his throat and out of his mouth.

Steve’s eyes open, and the view makes his heart want to stop.

It’s you, with your arms above your head, body bare to him and, wait. Someone’s behind him. The person's strong arms wrap around his waist and his muscled chest presses against his back, and then a metal hand turns his head to the left. And there’s Bucky, his Alpha. Bucky presses a filthy kiss to his lips while the brunette’s hands rest on his hips, aiding in their movement. With a quick smack to his backside, Steve gets back into the action, grinding his hips against your pelvic bone before slowly pulling out. The force of the forward thrust of his hips causes you to shriek, your breasts bouncing wildly as he continues his harsh thrusts.

It takes no time at all for Steve to feel his knot throb, threatening to expand and lock into your sweet pussy as he fills you with his cum. He’s close. Oh so fucking close when you moan.

“Alpha!”

Steve wakes with a gasp, his eyes flying open and heart racing as he tries in vain to cling onto any remnants of sleep, desperately hoping to finish the dream - his first wet dream in a while.

“Stevie?” Bucky appears from his left, walking out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist and his hair dripping from the shower. “You okay, Alpha?”

Steve shudders, the way you sweetly moaned for him, for your Alpha, coming to the front of his mind, and his cock throbs in a rude reminder of his current predicament.

“Y-yeah, I’m, fuck…” Steve trails off, his hand sneaking under the covers and grasping the base of his cock. “I’m good, baby. Just…”

“Just had a wet dream?” Bucky chuckles, walking over to their bed and sitting sideways on it so he can face Steve and run a hand through his already messed-up hair. “I could hear you whimpering from the shower.”

Bucky then flings the covers back, shooing Steve’s hand away from his cock so Bucky can grasp it. “I heard you whining for her, our sweet little Omega. She’s perfect, isn’t she? She’s so small compared to us, bet we’d break her the first time we get our knots in her perfect pussy.”

Bucky’s hand is jerking Steve off in earnest, his grip is tight as he strokes and pulls and flicks his wrist every so often. And Steve is helpless but to let him, to listen to his mate spout filth of how well you’d take them, how sweet you’d be for them, how he’d let Steve be the first to take you. He takes everything he’s given, gripping the sheets tight enough that he’s sure they're tearing, letting his pleasure climb higher and higher by the second.

But what really sets him off is Bucky’s growl, “I had to jerk myself off in the shower just listening to you moan for our Omega.” Steve cums with a shout, his eyes clenching shut, and he’d be embarrassed about how fast he came if it weren’t for the extremely vivid dream he just woke up from.

It takes a few moments for Steve to get his bearings until he’s finally able to open his eyes and meet Bucky’s playful gaze. Steve wants to feel bad about dreaming about you when you’re not even theirs, but he just can’t bring himself to do so. Just thinking of you made him shoot off like a rocket, he doesn’t really know how he’s going to handle actually being with you.

But they hadn’t even taken you on a date yet, and they both get the feeling it might take a while before you feel comfortable enough to give yourself over to them like that. But that doesn’t matter, because Steve is sure that he and Bucky will wait however long is needed for you to feel comfortable like that with them.

“So,” Bucky says with a smirk, bringing his hand up to lick Steve’s cum off of his hand. Steve groans in response. “You feelin’ better about today?”

Ever since they both asked you out neither has gone back to your studio, they didn’t want to make you anxious since they knew they both asked you out and you might get even more conflicted if you saw them again since then. Steve’s been worried. He doesn’t want to back out, God no. He just… he really wants this to work out. And every awful scenario keeps playing in his mind on a loop.

What if you get too overwhelmed with both of them together? What if you turn them down when you realize they’re mated? What if you’re disgusted and don’t even want to be their friend? What if -

“Stevie.” Bucky’s voice breaks him out of his thoughts, and Steve sighs. “Stop thinking too hard, it’s going to be fine.”

“But-”

“No, Steve.” Bucky sighs and gets off the bed, then he crouches down so his face is level with his mate’s. “I promised you, didn’t I? I promised that everything would work out and I’m going to fulfill that promise today. We’re going to go to the class, explain everything to her, and ask her out together.”

Bucky pauses to lean forward and press a kiss to Steve’s lips.

“She likes you, baby. And she likes me. That’s why she agreed to go out with us. It might be a little weird for her since two mated Alphas aren't common, especially since she doesn’t seem used to Alphas flirting with her at all. But, it’s going to be okay in the end. Everything will work out.”

Bucky kisses Steve again, and Steve gives his Alpha a gentle smile.

“I love you, Alpha.”

Bucky smiles back and says, “I love you too, Alpha.”

____________

“Okay, okay, okay,” You mumble to yourself, running your hands down the front of your apron for the hundredth time. “Everything is going to be okay. They don’t know you’re going out with both of them, everything is going to be fine.”

Sighing, you mumble another ‘I can do this’ before turning around, jumping in shock when you see Tori standing in front of you.

“Jesus Christ, Tori! Warn a girl, will you?”

Tori laughs, smirking. “Sorry, I just thought I’d tell you that your Alpha, Bucky, is here with some friends but I didn’t want to interrupt your pep-talk.”

Oh shit, in your panic you didn’t even realize your class starts in less than ten minutes. But then you realize a certain word she used. Your Alpha.

“He’s not my Alpha. He’s just… an Alpha that happens to like me and wants to take me on a date.”

Your eyes widen in horror, because the realization that you’re actually going on a date with him, and, separately, Steve, in just a few hours is hitting you in full force.

Oh God, how am I going to survive today?

Tori pulls you out of your thoughts, literally, by grabbing your bicep and leading you out of the back office.

“Whatever you say, babe. Now, let’s not keep him waiting.”

When you get to the studio part of your store you see him, well, them. It’s Bucky, surrounded by about ten other people, all talking and laughing. Wow, he wasn’t kidding when he said he’d bring all of his friends.

There are about five other people milling about, looking at all the different canvases and paints available for the class. It makes you happy that you had so many people show up, even if most of them probably had to be convinced to come.

There’s just one person missing; Steve. It’s only two minutes from twelve, and you can’t help the disappointment at the fact that he probably forgot or, worse, was just joking about being interested in you and doesn’t actually want to see you.

It hurts you, deeper than it probably should, but you mask the hurt when you get up to Bucky and his friends.

“Um, hi, Bucky,” You say softly, glancing over at his friends all looking at you with knowing smirks.

“Ah!” The Alpha says, smiling widely at you. “Hello, darling.”

It takes everything in you for you to not melt right into the floor, both from embarrassment from having his friends chuckle in amusement as well as his smooth yet low tone directed at you.

You turn slightly to the group of people behind him, all giving you amused expressions and small waves. You wave back at them with an awkward smile, then turn back to the Alpha in front of you. “Um, I… It’s nice of you to come.”

“I said I would, didn’t I?” Bucky winks at you, and you press your lips shut so as to not let out the high-pitched whine that wants to be set free.

After a tense few seconds of silence, Tori appears from beside you. “I hate to break up your moment but it’s time to start.”

“Oh! R-right.” Your heart is racing ever so slightly, but it’s also hurting. Because it seems like Steve really did bail.

That is until you ask everyone to sit wherever they want. Bucky sits at the front, taking the easel closest to you. His friends and the other patrons all sit as well, and one spot remains open, right next to Bucky.

The bell above the door dings, and your head whips up to see the Alpha in question rushing through the door. He gives you a wide smile, and immediately makes his way to the empty seat.

Fuck.

“Sorry I’m late, I got held up.”

“No, it’s - it’s fine!” Your heart rate increases again, and you don’t know how you’re going to survive this class, especially considering Bucky is already giving you a heady gaze.

“O-okay, everyone, let’s get started.”

Surprisingly, the class goes by pretty smoothly. However, the intense stares from both Steve and Bucky, as well as their smirks and Bucky’s occasional winks, make you stutter over your words every once in a while. That would cause Bucky’s friends to snicker and smirk. Though it seems relatively harmless, simply finding amusement in watching you get flustered over flirting with Bucky but not with any malice.

Still, it’s going well.

It’s not until you tell everyone to put down their brushes that your nerves return, hoping that Steve won’t stick around and you can just meet him at the diner he suggested.

But, fate has other plans. Because Bucky’s friends stand and choose to hang around the window, looking at some of your other displayed paintings. The others came up to you with thanks, complimenting your work as well as your teaching skills, all of which make you smile so wide you’d think it’d hurt.

But then they leave, and after the last lone customer leaves, you turn and see, oh no. Fuck. Steve and Bucky are talking, laughing, standing way too close to one another for two people who don’t know each other. You’re standing by your easel still, eyes locked on to them, frozen. Because you have a strange inkling that they do actually know each other, which would mean that they would know you’re going on a date with both of them.

Then why would they ask you out if that were the case?

It takes everything in you not to run away when Bucky turns to face you with a wide smile, Steve turning next and smiling too.

“Hey, darling,” Bucky says, walking toward you when he realizes you’re frozen in place. He stops in front of you, and Steve follows his lead and stands next to him. They look at each other for a moment, Steve nodding his head once before Bucky turns to you and opens his mouth.

But you’re panicking. Because you’ve already decided that they’ve just now found out and are going to cancel the dates and maybe insult you for accepting a date from both of them. Even though, logically, you know they would never say anything even remotely rude to you, your anxiety is telling you that they would. They will. So you take it upon yourself to apologize.

“Guys, I-I am so sorry! I know I shouldn’t have accepted a date with both of you but I really, really like both of you and I didn’t know how to choose because I don’t want to choose between you two because you’re both really nice and amazing and I know it sounds awful that I want both of you when you’re probably not even interested anymore because why w-”

“Darling!” Bucky cuts you off, placing a warm hand on your bicep, squeezing it once, and then running his hand down your arm until he can take your hand in his.

“It’s okay, honey,” Steve says, bringing up a hand to gently turn your head to face him more directly.

“I-It… It is?”

They both give each other another glance while they chuckle to themselves. Steve takes your other hand, slowly rubbing the back of it with his thumb.

“We have something to tell you, darling.” Bucky sighs, then clears his throat. “We… planned this. We didn’t want to tell you upfront because we didn’t want to scare you away, because we really like you too. We’re… Steve and I are…” He trails off, and now his nerves are swirling deep in his stomach. Steve steps in for him though.

“We’re mates. And we know it’s not common, and two Alphas with an Omega isn’t common either, so we didn’t want to be too overbearing by flirting with you together. We’ve been wanting to court an Omega together so we wanted you to get to know us individually so you wouldn’t be overwhelmed because we can be… a lot. We’re sorry we lied.”

By the time they’re done speaking, you think you’re dreaming. No, you’re positive you’re dreaming. They’re mates? And, as Steve said, two mated Alphas aren’t exactly common. Even still, that doesn’t bother you. You’re big on doing what you want as long as no one is getting hurt. And you can understand why they didn’t want to approach you together, because, yeah, even just being in both of their presences makes your heart race and stutter.

But, they both want you? Like, together? They want to court you and maybe bring you into their relationship? It’s been a while since you’ve been in a relationship, and even then it was with a Beta, so you can’t even imagine how dating two Alphas would be.

“Oh.” Smart. Really fucking clever. God, why can’t you just say anything?

“Do you… Do you not want to date us?” Steve sounds disappointed, sad. And the way he frowns makes you mentally slap yourself out of your haze.

“No! I- I do! I just… I’ve never dated two Alphas. I don’t mind that you’re mated, really. I’m just not used to…” You trail off, biting your lip and glancing down, realizing that they still have hold of your hands. It makes your skin tingle, their large and warm hands fill your entire body with fire, and the smile that returns to Steve’s face makes you smile too.

“You’re not used to what?” Bucky asks, squeezing your hand.

“To being wanted this much, I guess.”

You miss the way both Alphas look at each other with furrowed eyebrows, both men frowning now.

“How about this,” Steve says, bringing up his other hand to tilt your chin up to look at him. “We’ll cancel the dates for today. And we can go on one tomorrow, together. All of us. And if you think it over more tonight and decide you don’t want to anymore, then that is okay. But we really do like you, honey.”

Well, you’d never stood a chance against them from the very first meetings, so there’s not really a doubt in your mind that you do want to go on that date, it’s just your anxiety that’s causing you to doubt their feelings.

But Tori’s voice pops up in the back of your head telling you to stop overthinking, to just take a chance. So, that’s what you do.

“O-okay. Tomorrow is good.”

Both Alphas smile, simultaneously sighing in relief at your words. Bucky then releases your hand so he can pull out his phone, unlock it, then hand it to you.

“Here, we’re going to go but you can give me your number so we can talk over more details before tomorrow.”

You do so, typing in your number and watching with dazed eyes as they gather their things to leave. And when they’re about to leave, both men make quick moves of kissing each of your cheeks before retreating with charming smiles.

“We’ll see you tomorrow, darling?” Bucky asks, only leaving when you give him a nod and a wide smile.

“Of course, I wouldn’t miss it.”

tagging: @the-ginger-fairy-artist / @supernovatardis / @perdidosbucky-yyo / @wckedheart / @kandis-mom / @meteorshowercoffee / @wandaneedstherapy / @buckysbarne / @bigcreatorwombatdreamer / @p1ut0smoon / @venusfly11 / @buckybarnesmetalarmswife775 / @the-photo-hoe / @clownsbf / @matsumama / @fandoms-writings / @thornsnvultures / @sadboiabby / @lily-excal / @alright-i-guesss / @blondie-bluue / @loveforreading / @marvel-wifey-86 / @wheezy-stucky / @exposition-belongs-somewhere / @sweater-bee / @stuckysbike / @lovelylittleleigh / @buckyshbic / @starkblackwolf / @caitlink26 / @dreaming-potato / @emeraldfairy23 / @lethargicluv / @perfectlyboring / @glistenuplove / @monicachic13 / @bbellen1411 / @akmenia / @shawnftjacob / @ladyravenclaw / @sadsadbabygirlrob / @hc-kerr / @iamfandomwasted / @sweetmoonlove0214 / @yesprettypleasesir / @duckies16 / @wizardofstories / @emerald-writes / @xonickibaby / @matchat3a

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes imagine #bucky fic rec #stucky #steve rogers #steve rogers imagine #stevebucky #stucky imagine #stucky x reader imagine #stucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #steve rogers x reader #alpha!bucky #alpha!steve #alpha!stucky #my writing

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sant-riley · 6 months

Note

Yeah but like what if one day Gaz walked into a room and saw Y/N FNAF lore dumping to Ghost

[Infodumping the boys]

(Mostly Platonic tf141 x gen neutral! reader, hints at Ghost bc it’s me and I’m biased.)

Summary: Teddy aka You, decide to gather the gang and tell them about five nights at Freddy’s before the movie comes out.

Word count: 800 ish

Warnings: Possibly of for the boys (idrc tho lmao), Teddy is this readers callsign, reader is implied to be at least early 20’s, I can’t think of anything else tbh but lmk if this does need something tagged!

It wasn't uncommon for you to infodump your teammates, they're all older than you and have significantly less screen time than you (it ties into being older). Most of the information you give them is something they take as fact, this is no different.

Gaz of all people knows your interests best, you two being the closest in age means you both realistically grew up with the internet and its most popular series.

The last thing he expected walking into one of the many meeting rooms on base, was you at the front of the room, your laptop hooked up to the projector and Price and Soap sitting down, dutifully listening with varying degrees of attention.

Price is to your left, staring down at mission documents that no doubt need to be turned in by tomorrow. A glass of some liquor next to his stack, a cigar box that's propped open right by it as well.

To anyone else, it would seem like Price isn't listening and he's just here to keep you from bothering him to come but Gaz can see the Captain's eye flick up every so often, his eyes softening when his gaze falls on yours, listening for a few beats, a miniscule upturn of his lips until he's looking back down again, grabbing a pen to make a correction.

Soap on the other hand is sitting next to Cap, a hand resting under his chin, the other flipping around a pen in his hands. He's nodding and asking questions as you flick through. Below him is a notebook that seems to have scribbled in it, if Gaz walked in further he could see little drawings of Monty Gator and Soap himself, a Venn diagram with a large red writing saying "Mohawk!!"

Ghost being there probably should be a shock but it isn't. The man is known to follow you around like a shadow, he humors you arguably the most out of the four men, letting you drag him to and from places with minimal complaint. He bets Ghost is gonna be the one to take you to the five nights at Freddys movie premiere.

Simon's dressed down to just his hoodie and his balaclava mask, attentively watching you as you speak passionately about each character and their role in the series. his dark eyes flicking around to stare at the drawings you inserted so everyone could see what the animatronics and others looked like.

You would've thought this was a mission debrief with how focused he was on your words.

Gaz lets out a fake cough, announcing himself to the room and he watches as your eyes immediately latch onto him, he ignores how his heart skips a beat when he sees the crinkles of your eyes, seeing you shoot a glowing smile his way.

You always look at him like that but he never tires of it.

"Gaz! Finally, you're here!"

Rushing over to him, you grab at his hand, quickly intertwining fingers, and start dragging him to the seat next to Ghost. He sits down with a huff, amusement swimming around his eyes. You move to go back to the front of the room, gleefully rocking on the balls of your feet as you look at them.

"What's all this about?" He questions, after getting nods in acknowledgment from the other 3 men in the room.

"Teddy here is tellin' us about five nights at…Frankies?"

"It's Freddy's, Johnny." You roll your eyes playfully.

"No shot you're making Ghost and Cap listen to this."

"I'm not making them do anything, they're here of their own free will, thank you very much." Sticking out your tongue, moving to click to the next slide.

"Is that true Cap?"

"It's background noise," John murmurs with a shrug, taking a swig out of his glass. He leans back in his seat, seemingly taking a momentary break as he looks around at the table.

"Got nothin' better else to do," Simon answers easily, looking at Gaz from the corner of his eye.

"You ain't gonna ask me, Garrick?"

"Nah, you of all people would enjoy it."

"What's tha-"

"Boys! Shut it! We're getting to the good part!" You clap your hands together and Soap immediately cuts himself off, looking back at you.

With all the boys' eyes on you, you clear your throat and push a button, there, from when Gaz remembers, is Michael Afton in all his purple nasty body glory.

"Fucks wrong with him? Why does he look like that?" Simon remarks, an eyebrow shooting up.

"I'm so glad you asked, you know actually the more I think about it, You and Michael actually have a lot in common.”

"How so?"

"Asshole dad, the oldest brother, daddy issues, I can keep going if you want."

Ghost just grunts in acknowledgment, raising a hand to his head and rubbing at his temples.

Price chokes on his liquor, coughing as it goes down the wrong pipe.

Soap audibly drops an "oh."

And Gaz just stares, truth be told, yeah. Yeah, he can see the resemblance.

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cashmoneyyysstuff · 2 months

Note

Hiya there!

I have two questions,

first, what if Katsuki was whipped over a popstar reader?

Also, who's the character in your profile? i wanna maybe draw her.

Much love

-Kovu :>

hello this is LOOOOONG overdue @kovu-bunnbunn im soooo sorry ! i didnt rlly know how to get to this at first cus i've never done hc's before, but either way i hope you like it ! also tumblr just randomly ate this so i had to restart...yay.

p.s.: the character on my profile is my oc ryoko ! she's my mha oc, i'd be so super flattered if you decided to draw her ! (also idk if you couldve guessed but shes my oc x canon katsuki ship I KNOOOOW shocker)

katsuki has literally every single piece of merch he can get his hands on

vinyls, album records, posters, accesories and t-shirts but he never wears them he hides them somewhere in his room so you don't find out he has them.

(you do find out eventually.)

he gets so giddy on the inside when you give him limited edition stuff and that's always something he shows off

"woah man that's limited edition ive been LURKING for that !" "yeah well apparently you haven't been lurkin' hard enough cus I HAVE IT--"

he shows up to all your concerts and somehow he manages to be the loudest one there lmfaooo his ass is NOT on mute.

if you ever take him backstage he's so awkward cus he doesnt know anyone so he just sticks to you (not like he doesn't on the daily)

at most he'll nod at people in greeting (he's kinda scared he'll start stuttering)

but he's scary lookin so the staff n others think he's just protective over you

for sure your other bandmates / staff think he's your personal bodyguard LOLOLOLOL

but nope turns out he's just a loser lol

if you sell photocards as merch or something like that best believe has ALLL of them

collectin em like his phone isn't already filled with pictures of you

his storage about to burst and it's still not enough for 'im LOLOL

he for sure has a secret fan account that entirely revolves around you.

he defends you with his LIFE on there too he's one of them fans😭😭😭

he has a different playlist from specific albums depending on his mood, so whatever playlist he's on there's always at least one song of yours on there

he has a seperate 'bad boy playlist' that he has so you don't find out he's a hyperfan

one time you guys were sharing earbuds in the bus while his playlist was on shuffle and he'd accidently added one of your songs on his edgy dark n brooding cool guy playlist.

needless to say he was more than embarrassed, damn near MORTIFIED and didn't look at you for the whole bus ride 😭😭

gets so flustered when he finds out songs you've written were while you thought of him or were dedicated to him. he gets so blushy about it but he's such a show off

like whenever he hears a song meant for him, he smirks about it to himself and no one understands why but he really doesn't care cus they don't need to understand

cus it's something between you and him <3

all in all, he loves you and your music (and your merch) and he couldn't be prouder to call himself your boyfriend <3

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dualitue · 2 months

Text

𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐅𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐎𝐑 𝐙𝐀𝐘𝐍𝐄 !

★ mentions of manipulation + obsession and abusive relationship + semi-public sex + jealousy + thirst for academic validation (so real)

★ this one is especially for my lovely girlies who constantly dream about getting fucked brutally and also be the top of their class. i deserve to be number one or turn into dust, nothing in between that.

It's not a game of survival after all, you try to remind yourself all the time. It's just some classes, nothing that sleepless nights of studying cannot solve. However thanks to your stubborn professor who despises handing out higher grades, (the ones that you strongly believe that you deserve) you always find yourself back to square one. Studying, studying, studying and never getting the highest mark. At first, you felt like you haven't been studying hard enough—but after failing his class twice, you decided to take the same class from a different professor.

Professor Zayne.

What a dreamy guy, you'd hear from the other girls at the halls—whispering to each other excitedly. And you truly get the hype, really. He's tall, handsome, and there's this enchanting thing surrounding him that nails you to ground every time you run into him. His voice never fails to shake you to your core, and every time you feel struck by his charms, you need a breath of fresh air to get back into your right mind.

As if he senses that mental distance that you try to put, Professor Zayne always finds a way to draw you closer, pulling you back into that whirlwind of mixed emotions. Your mouth goes dry as his fingertips slightly brush over your tense shoulders during quizzes, or the way he stares into your eyes to peek into the depths of your soul even though he's talking to someone else.

Even though you don't want to admit, there's only a little you can do about this strange magnetic force between you and your beloved professor. Under that distant and emotionless face lies a soft man who makes you feel worthy of all that you've missed out on up until now, and you've been proved with such examples of that countless times.

That's when it became a survival game; when he offered you to be his assistant. Of course, nothing serious—you haven't graduated after all, so all you're assigned with are some small stuff that are probably irrelevant and carry no importance.

Yet, the way the corner of his lips curl into the slightest bit of a smile gets your heart beating faster whenever you successfully complete a task.

"Like the good girl you are," he says, an underlying tone of amusement can be sensed in his voice as he speaks. And you always, desperately, leave claw marks on every praise and compliment he gives you.

Over the course of the time you two have spent together, Zayne has taught you one thing; to be greedy. From unable to voice your wants in a natural way, you've become someone who can demand what they want. However, this dynamic has a little secret to it; if Zayne is the one giving you the praise you want, even though both of you know that you deserve it more than anyone, he makes you work for it.

It has started with your vent about your previous professor being an asshole about grading papers; he'd listen to you intently as you let your heart all out and get his study desk all messy. Broken sobs between your hatred filled words; you do deserve better and you do know that, so why should it be hard to enjoy the satisfaction of your well deserved success?

With his big, soft hand and warm palm Zayne would cup your red and burning cheek—his thumb gently rubbing your cheekbone; supporting you with a comfort that you've never known before. It didn't take long for you to get used to it; and Zayne never stopped making you ask for more.

"Yeah, sweet girl, get comfy there," he says; and it's almost impossible to be comfortable under his desk, you feel your knees getting bruised and your shoulders aching as your fingers hurriedly unzip his pants and free his hardened cock from his clothes. But, what else can you do to earn that addicting kiss, lingering on your lips even after days... or the way he makes you lie down on his cramped desk. Some folders hurt your back and your legs tremble as his fingers bury themselves deep in your cunt; slick sounds filling his room as he lands a slap to your pussy every time you get slightly loud.

What he loves most is when you let him fuck you before his classes. He hurriedly strips you off your clothes, his skilled fingers exploring your squirming body as if time is abundant. He sometimes cages your body between his firm chest and the cold wall as he sloppily fucks you from behind, or he gets you on his lap to feel your cunt squeeze around his twitching cunt when you take all of it...

The line, if there's any, between who knows what gets blurry with each interaction. Is this just a simple thing, or are you two using each other? It's not like he's not paying attention to you after these small interactions; he checks your essays the moment you send them, helping you with any questions you have or any assignment related stuff. What he definitely doesn't enjoy is that the way you help others in your class when they ask nicely.

On days that he sees other students around you, asking you stuff about his class, he simply uses you like a fuckdoll. Abusing your sensitive cunt, pulling back just as you're about to cum around his cock and spilling on your panties to remind you that you're not the one who can help, but the one who needs help.

And slowly but surely he manages to engrave that to your brain after, after a whole semester, you're almost dependent on him. No assignment feels good enough to be submitted before he approves, no studying session is efficient enough if he doesn't have you on his lap, grinding against his hard cock. No day is a good day if he hasn't kissed you until you feel dizzy. And no boys or your toys are able to fill you up the way he does. Some nights you find yourself in your bed, trembling fingers buried deep in your cunt, trying to touch the spots he easily touches. But it ends the same; you, in his room the next morning, begging him to make you cum because it's driving you insane.

And the praises, and the compliments and all of that don't feel enough, too. No claw marks on anything anymore, just this insatiable desire in you to seek a shelter in his loving arms.

#🩰.ela writes #lnd zayne #lnds zayne #lnds x reader #lnds imagine #love and deep space x you #love and deep space x reader #love and deepspace #love and deep space imagine #love and deep space zayne #zayne love and deepspace #zayne x reader #lads zayne #zayne x you #l&ds smut #l&ds x reader #l&ds zayne

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munson-blurbs · 1 year

Note

Happy Saturday! If you’re still taking requests for the 2k celebration, could I request Eddie/mall/lingerie? And happy 2k followers, definitely well deserved!

It's the return of perv!best friend!Eddie, y'all. Hold on tight.

Warnings: smut (18+ only, minors DNI!), unprotected p in v (wrap it up), creampie, pet names, public sex (no one around tho), barely any foreplay because I'm lazy, friends to lovers

WC: 1.6k

Shopping with Eddie is like pulling teeth. First, you have to convince him to actually come to the mall with you. Then you have to continually bribe with treats from the food court just to keep him from driving off without you. Today, he’s snacking on a giant cinnamon pretzel from Auntie Anne’s and slurping on a root beer.

“Remind me why I need to be here again?” he whines as you compare two denim miniskirts that look identical to him, but apparently, you can spot a difference. He takes another bite of pretzel and sighs indignantly.

“Because,” you explain, exasperation evident in your tone, “I need a man’s opinion on what to wear for my date tonight, and you’re the closest thing I have.” You laugh as he playfully shoves you. “And I needed a ride, so…”

“So, basically, you’re just using me for my male gaze and my car, huh?” he asks, running a hand over a neatly folded pile of shirts on display.

“Pretty much.” you chirp, putting both skirts back on the rack. “Ugh, this is hopeless! I’m never gonna find something.” You blow out a big breath, puffing your cheeks. “One more store and then we can go home, I promise.”

Eddie rolls his eyes but dutifully follows behind you, taking the opportunity to check out the way your shorts perfectly hug your ass. He feels a twitch in his pants as your hips sway back and forth, and he wills himself to look away.

Unfortunately, in his pursuit to keep himself from popping a boner in the middle of the Starcourt Mall, his gaze lands on the entrance to a lingerie boutique. The mannequin out in front is adorned with a red lace teddy that leaves nothing to the imagination. His eyes dart back to you, and all he can think about is you wearing it. But not for your date with whatever schmuck you’re going out with tonight; no, Eddie wants you to wear it for him. In his bed, straddling his waist, grinding on his–

“Shit,” he mutters. He thinks his voice is low enough to keep you from hearing, but he cringes as you swivel around to see what the problem is, catching him trying to discreetly adjust himself over his jeans.

“You okay–oh,” you giggle, taking notice of his predicament. “Careful, Casanova; y’might wanna pick your jaw off the floor.” You put your forearm on his shoulder and rest your chin on top of it, making him tense up even more. “Who are you picturing in that? Chrissy Cunningham? Tammy Thompson?” Before he can answer, you press on. “Ooh, or maybe a supermodel, like Cindy Crawford or Iman? C’mon, who is it?”

“What if I was picturing you?” Eddie tries to play off his words teasingly, but the raw lust blowing out his pupils gives him away.

Biting your lower lip, you can taste the gloss you’d applied earlier. Every time Eddie jokes with you like this, pretending he wants you, it kills you inside. “Do you think I should try it on?” You look at him innocently, batting your eyelashes as you call his bluff. “Y’know, for Kyle tonight?”

At the mention of your date’s name, Eddie shrugs your arm off of him. “No,” he growls, hooking a ringed finger through your belt loop, “want you to try it on for me.” There’s no hiding his hardness now, and you can feel his heart beating faster as he draws closer to you. He swallows thickly, waiting for your response.

You’re too stunned to speak. Eddie has always been a flirt, and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t have a crush on him, but he’s your best friend. There’s no way he seriously wants to see you in lingerie, right?

“O-Okay,” you manage, turning towards the store. Eddie intertwines his pinky with yours as though ensuring he won’t lose sight of you. You find the teddy in your size and bring it into the dressing room. To Eddie’s dismay, you yank the velvet curtain closed. He tilts his head slightly, trying to find a gap wide enough to get a glimpse of you changing. He can just imagine you shimmying out of your clothes and into the sheer lingerie.

Fuck it.

Careful not to expose you to a customer passing by, Eddie slips into the room, resting his hands on your waist as you examine yourself in the mirror. The lace clings to your body, hugging your curves in all the right ways. You can feel his hard length pressed up against the back of your naked thigh.

“Eddie,” you breathe out, trying to ignore the fluttering below your belly, “what are you doing?”

“Tell me something, princess,” he says, purposefully ignoring your question, “I pictured you putting this on, but who did you picture taking it off?” He waits for what seems like an eternity, silently praying that Kyle’s name doesn’t pass through your lips.

You turn to face him, letting his strong hands fall below the curve of your ass. “You, Eddie. Always you.” As soon as you give your answer, Eddie’s mouth crashes onto yours. He brings one palm to cup your cheek while he kisses you hungrily, moaning lightly with each flicker of his tongue against yours. He guides you to the wall, palming your breasts through the minimal covering.

Eddie nudges his knee between your thighs, brushing against your sensitive sex, and you moan involuntarily. “Oh, baby,” he coos, chuckling at your reaction to his touch, “so needy, aren’t we? I bet you’re already soaking wet. Almost pathetic how desperate you are f’me, huh?” You want to fire back with a witty retort about how he was the one who wanted you in lingerie; he barged into the dressing room while you were changing, but you can’t string words together to form a sentence. Instead, you nod dumbly, making him laugh again. “Don’t worry; I’ll tell you a little secret.” He nibbles at your earlobe before whispering, “This isn’t the first time I’ve thought about your sexy little body in one of these. Not even the first time today, actually.”

With that, your fingers fly to his belt, unbuckling it as deftly as you can, and tug his pants and boxers down his thighs. His throbbing cock thwacks against his torso, leaving a pre-cum stain on his shirt. He hisses at the sudden relief, using his own fluids as lube to pump himself. You start to get onto your knees, but he stops you.

“If you put your mouth on me, ‘m never gonna last,” he warns with a smirk. “That’ll be for next time, yeah?” The promise of a next time excites you even more, and you allow him to hoist you up against the wall, pushing aside the lace as he runs his cock along your slick folds. “Y’ready?” His eyes are wide; though he wants nothing more than to be inside you, but only if you want to. When you nod, his smile exposes his soft dimples. “Thas’ my girl.”

My girl my girl my girl. The words swirl through your brain as Eddie pushes his mushroom tip into you. The stretch is a mixture of pleasure and pain, melting into only the former as he slowly ruts up into you, allowing you to take a bit more of him each time.

Eddie’s never had sex this good before. You dig your fingernails into his back as your pussy clenches around him; he feels himself growing even harder inside you. He grabs the plush of your ass as he quickens his pace, hitting your sweet spot with each thrust.

“Goddamn,” he groans, nearly whimpering as you tug on his hair. “Your body was meant for me, baby. Takin’ me so well, like you were made for my cock.”

“I was m-made for you,” you echo, feeling your body tremble with delight. “Eddie, Eddie, oh, fuck, Eddie!” You lean your head back, exposing your throat and giving him the perfect angle to suck a bruise just above your collarbone.

Eddie chants your name, burying his head into the crook of your neck as he leaves more hickeys. “Can’t hold back much longer,” he confesses, trailing his tongue over the fresh set of love bites, but he keeps the same rhythm that’s driving you wild. “Wanna get my princess off before I do, though.”

“K-Keep going until you c-cum, please,” you beg him, “just like that.” You bring your middle finger down to your clit, rubbing deliberate circles until you feel your orgasm wash over you. “Yes, Eddie. I’m cumming, cumming for you…feel s’good.”

Bucking his hips harder and chasing his release, Eddie is a panting mess. “Shit–gonna cum, gonna cum in-inside you, fuck.” His hot seed coats your walls as he cries out your name one last time. He gently pulls out of you, leaving cum dripping down your leg while you struggle to regain your balance.

“Looks like we ruined it,” he offers, motioning to the lingerie. There’s tears along the crotch where he roughly moved the fabric, and the mixture of your releases is starting to leave a stain. He tears off the price tag and crumples it, tossing it to the floor. “Put your clothes on over it, hmm? It’ll be our little secret.” He pauses, giving you a mischievous smirk. “Unless you wanna tell Kyle tonight?”

You shake your head. “No. No Kyle. Only you.” Honestly, you’d forgotten all about your date until Eddie just reminded you. “Gonna cancel so we can do…that again.” And hopefully again and again and again.

Eddie throws his arm around you. “Oh, sweetheart,” he laughs, “now that I’ve got you, we’re not stopping until that little number is completely destroyed.”

#eddie munson #eddie stranger things #eddie x reader #eddie x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x f!reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson stranger things #stranger things fanfic #stranger things #eddie munson fanfic #fanfic #bug's 2k celebration

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ollieolliewrld · 3 months

Text

Genshin Men in Relationships (SFW)

There are characters I left out lmk if anyone would like a version for them as well!

1.8k words

Alhaitham

♡Everything this man does is calculated

♡From the moment he saw you he knew he had to plan to win you over

♡Usually, his intellect is enough to impress but you were different

♡You didn't see him as a brain you saw him as a person

♡Not only were his thoughts valued but his feelings mattered to you

♡Alhaitham had never been treated that way before and because of that he will make you the happiest person on the planet

♡He likes to share what he knows with you and likes to sit you down with a cup of tea as he goes over his findings and ideas

♡Absolutely loves to hear your thoughts and opinions

♡A common date spot for you two is on a blanket in the forest

♡He enjoys setting up picnics where you can enjoy nature and be alone

♡He has never missed an important day and does a surprisingly good job at planning celebrations

♡For a man who comes across as cold and unfeeling, he takes a lot of time finding the things that you like and including them in all aspects of life

Arataki Itto

♡This ball of energy naturally makes one of the best boyfriends

♡Everything he does is full of passion and care

♡He includes you in everything he does as he wants to 1) have you by his side at all times and 2) needs someone to wheel him back in when he starts getting out of hand

♡You are slightly more level-headed than he is so it works out

♡He likes to compete with you turning mundane tasks into a race or seeing who can eat more in one sitting

♡It's all for fun and no matter who wins or loses you both are in good spirits

♡Arataki Itto is a handsy lover who always wants to have some level of physical contact with you

♡He holds your hand, has you on his lap, piggyback rides, or will fall asleep on you

♡He absolutely adores you, seeing you is like watching a sunrise no matter what is going on seeing you brings a smile to his face

♡Very playful and enjoys lovingly teasing you

♡Big on holding things above your head knowing that you cannot reach it

♡He never does anything maliciously, he just adores the look on your face when you’re slightly grumpy

Diluc

♡One of the most protective lovers available

♡He is not overbearing but he is not letting anyone lay a finger on you

♡Diluc is a little gruff but he cares about you very deeply

♡Part of protecting you is spoiling you

♡Dates with him are dinners with the most beautiful scenery

♡You will be presented with random gifts almost daily so prepare for that

♡Nothing is too good for you

♡Big fan of walking with you around his property

♡It allows for the enjoyment of nature while having absolute privacy with you

♡Diluc is the kind of lover to sit with you on a mountaintop while watching the sunset but the entire time his eyes never leave you

♡There is no view that can top your beauty he is sure of that and while those words may never leave his mouth you know this every time you catch him staring at you

♡You are the most important thing in the world to him. Each day he will do what needs to be done to keep you with him

Kaeya

♡The two of you share an enemies-to-lovers story as you could not stand each other when you first met

♡This went on for a few weeks until Jean had enough of your fighting and forced you two to patrol the same very small area

♡When you two heard each other out you found that you both had a lot in common

♡Since then, Kaeya does not leave your side

♡He likes to constantly try to impress you

♡You could be together for years and he would still be the suave man who comes in to save the day

♡He is like Diluc in the sense that he is protective but he also gets slightly jealous

♡You have this way of drawing everyone’s attention without even realizing it

♡He loves you and cares for you deeply so he will get over his jealousy as he never wants you to feel like you are doing something wrong

♡You are his and he is the one you choose to be with every day, knowing that brings a smile to his face without fail

Neuvillette

♡Meeting you was the best day of Neuvillette’s life

♡took him a while to warm up to you but he could not stay away

♡Seeing your smile took away the pain he has carried in his heart for so long

♡He is a serious man but caring

♡He likes to keep his work and you completely separate, this being said he will always make time for you

♡Never will he forget a date with you, Neuvillette makes you his priority in life and treats you like royalty

♡Enjoys speaking with you he finds that the times when you two get lost in conversation are the times he feels the closest to you

♡While he is not big on PDA behind closed doors you are held in his arms

♡He keeps you close to him as he has a fear that he will lose you one day so having his arms around you calms him

♡Surprisingly he’s a nickname guy but not your typical nickname, he gives you one based on your name and personality

♡It’s one way he shows his care for you, by calling you a name that comes from a place of love and meaning

Tartaglia

♡Being with him is always an adventure

♡There is always something to do and somewhere to go

♡No matter what he’s up to you will be kept safe

♡Childe will never put you in harm's way but he does want to show you all aspects of life

♡He’s not supposed to tell you everything but he does, you are the love of his life he can’t keep secrets from you

♡You are treated to the best of everything with him

♡If there is anything you want he will get it for you no matter what it takes

♡Seeing you happy is the best gift he has ever received

♡He would prefer to keep you out of business to an extent, you would be with him wherever he went but you are not getting anywhere near the action

♡If anything happened to you he would not know how to cope

♡Good thing for you Tartaglia has everything figured out and knows how to show his lover the world without letting them get hurt

♡Your life is filled with excitement and you don’t get a lot of time to be alone relaxing

♡He figures you two can get to that when you’re old

Thoma

♡Mr. Perfect has been giving you the husband treatment since day one

♡He is so kind and caring to everyone that you didn’t realize he had feelings for you for a while

♡You two were close friends for some time before he made a move to outright tell you his feelings

♡Finding out you felt the same way was like a dream come true for him

♡Thoma was so happy to know that he finally had someone to stand beside him

♡The two of you work together making sure the other load is not too much for them

♡Doing this ensures that neither you nor Thoma burns out with all that you do

♡Date nights are big with him

♡Days are when the work gets done and when the sun sets that’s the time that is reserved for just you

♡He likes to cook with you and would be so happy to teach you

♡Enjoys packing you snacks each morning you thought it was a little childish at first to have a snack pack with you but with all the running around you do you have realized why he started doing it in the first place

♡Keeping you happy and healthy is what he prides himself on

Wriothesley

♡The most loyal lover

♡From the day he met you, he has been determined to improve your life in any way he could

♡He takes his work seriously and it takes a toll on him so knowing that he has you to come home to pushes him through it

♡Wriothesley wants to keep you far away from his work as he will not risk anything ever happening to you

♡Yes he knows you are capable of handling yourself but why would he ever want you to have to struggle

♡He treasures the time he spends with you and does not care what the activity is as long as the two of you are together

♡He enjoys relaxing in the countryside lying in the grass with you just as much as he enjoys the rare opportunity of laying in bed and having a lazy morning with you

♡Big fan of making you breakfast

♡He will wake you up when he is done with breakfast even if it is super early because he knows what the rest of his day is going to entail and he would like to start off with seeing your face and sharing a meal with you

♡Loves to be able to come home and find you sleeping in one of his shirts

♡He slides into bed so carefully next to you and wraps his arms around you

♡You are his world and he will always nurture you

Zhongli

♡Zhongli is enjoying the retired life to the max

♡Every day gets to be spent with you doing whatever you want to do

♡He has taken you all over for adventures, sightseeing, and relaxation

♡After being around for so long he knows what the best of everything is

♡Having you and being able to now share that knowledge with someone makes him finally feel complete

♡One of his favorite moments with you was when he took you to his favorite overlook in Liyue, there were flowers growing near where the two of you were sitting, and when you saw them you excitedly ran over to pick one and came back and placed the flower behind his ear

♡He has never experienced someone like you

♡So kind and caring that it was odd to him at first that you were so caring towards him without knowing who he was

♡That is his favorite thing about you, the way you treat people, the kindness you carry in your heart

♡It is a rare quality and something that he now gets to enjoy having in his life

Author's note: Very excited to now have posts for the three main fandoms I will be writing for out! I'm always open to other fandoms and other characters from DMC, HSR, and Gneshin just shoot me a request <3<3

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revasserium · 3 months

Note

BEGGING u to write switch!xavier x fem!reader friends to lovers smut i am obsessed with this man 🙏

hunter and the hunted

xavier; 1,661 words; nsfw!!!, fem!reader, nickname usage ("bunny", "miss hunter"), piv sex, switch!xavier, pwp

summary: after the photoshoot, you decide to reward xavier for being a good bunny butler. or, in which xav calls you "bunny" during sex.

a/n: im sorry i didn't do the friends to lovers thing anon but i hope this still scratches the switch!xavier itch???? based on the bunny!butler card :)

There’s always been a startling, stirring purpose to the way he does things.

And this — you keen, head tipping back as Xavier leans down to mouth at your exposed collarbones — you think, is no different.

“Hm… that’s a pretty sound… I think I’d like to hear it again, bunny.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, your breath hiccuping in your chest as you feel Xavier pulling back inch by excruciating inch before snapping forward, his head cocking to one side to watch you moan. His eyes are dark, darker than you’ve ever seen them, his pupils blown wide as the heart of dying stars —

“X-Xa — vi — vier — please —”

You flush at the way his name breaks on your tongue, at the way the tip of his cock kisses your cervix every time he pulls back and thrusts back in, at the way he angles his hips to hit just the right spot. It’s almost cruel, the way he watches you — his light-scattered eyes searching your face for something you don’t have a name for.

“Mm…” he leans down again, trailing warm lips along the line of your shoulder blade, biting down gently when you clench down around him, making his hips stutter. It’s the only tell that he’s just as affected as you are. But the next second, he’s pulling back to tug at your legs, fingers hooking behind your knees to press them up and up and up — till they’re shoved against your sweat-slicked chest.

“Oh bunny… look at you…”

You try to turn your head, try to look anywhere but at the hunger that marrs his face as his eyes flicker down to where he’s fucking into you, straight and steady, to where you can feel your own wetness slicking down the backs of your legs till it collects on the freshly laundered sheets below. Faintly, you wonder if there’s another set of sheets you can use for the night because this set is surely already ruined.

You can feel the thickness of him as he fills you, the weight of him dragging against your inner walls, the incriminating schick of wet skin against skin.

“I — I can’t —”

There’s a recklessness to the way he ruts down into you, a building, wind-wild abandon to the pace his hips keep, snapping quicker and quicker against yours, his thrusts going shallow as he lets out a soft breath, pushing your knees together with a tight groan.

“T-tell me, Miss Hunter…” he says, a bead of sweat trickling from his forehead to the tip of his nose as he rucks down into you, making white-hot stars explode behind your eyelids, the heat in your abdomen twisting tight, and then tighter — “didn’t you promise — you were going to show me something — special?”

You feel his thumb draw down between your bodies, tracing along the lips of your bruised labia before circling your clit once, twice. You gasp as you feel your climax cresting through you with almost no warning, and it’s all you can do to clutch at his arm, nails digging into his skin as you come.

“X-Xavier — c-com-ing —!”

“Nngh — that’s right… that’s… a good bunny…”

His hips stall as he watches you come undone around him, the way your whole body goes rigid, your skin slick with a sheen of sweat, the sweet pink indents of his teeth blossoming along your shoulders as you fall back, gasping for breath. He leans down, breathless, brushing his lips by your cheek.

“Good bunny…” he repeats, shushing you as you whimper, “there you go…”

Your vision tunnels, the heat washing over you now in waves as your body twitches through the aftermath of your release, even as Xavier pulls back and fucks forward with a soft groan, as if to chase his own high. Finally, finally.

Your eyelids flutter shut and you recall the events of just half an hour before, when you’d been the one on top, with him begging beneath you —

“A-ah… a-are you — what are you —” his voice is sharp, but you’re relentless as you tug at the waistband of his black slacks, sliding them off his thin hips, ghosting your lips over the dips there just to hear his breath hitch.

“Don’t worry, this is a reward, bunny!” you glance up at him, grinning at the pair of soft white bunny ears clipped into his hair, now a little lopsided as he blinks down at you, his hands dutifully bound in his lap with his black silk tie.

“Re-reward? I — ah —” he hisses as you ghost your lips over the obvious bulge in his boxers, grinning to yourself as you inch your fingers up his thighs, teasing the sensitive skin there.

“Yep! For being such a good ‘bunny’ today at the photo booth!”

“That was — j-just for —” he swallows, head tipping back as you mouth at the waistband of his boxers, glancing up, feeling heat pulse between your legs at the sight of his flushed cheeks and wet, parted lips.

“Just for…?” you tease, even as you slowly peel off his boxers, your mouth watering at the sight of his cock, the tip straining pink, dripping with precum. You can’t help the way your throat tenses as you wrap your fingers around the base and give it an experimental pump.

The strangled sound Xavier makes ripples over your bare skin like warm water.

“Weren’t you the one that asked me… if I’d like to unwrap my present earlier today? Well…” a quick kiss to the head of his cock is the only warning he gets before you lean down and lick a thick strip up, tracing the pulsing vein along the bottom of his shaft with your tongue, from base to tip and back down again.

“Mm — ah —” you hear the sound of his head thumping back against the headboard just as his hips kick up. You hum, pressing them back down with a firm hand.

“Naughty bunnies won’t get to cum,” you reprimand, to which he lets out a noise somewhere between a whine and a grunt, peering open one helpless eye, his fluffy white bunny ears now knocked painfully askew. You flash him a cheeky smile, the sight of him lying there, splayed out beneath you, his clothes tugged haphazardly open, wrists bound and cock straining, sends a rush of adrenalin through you, heady enough to make the room spin.

“N-not even if I say ‘please’?”

And really, there shouldn’t be any reason for him to sound so ruined already, not when you’ve only just started, but you bite your lips and swallow down a moan at his words. Your knees press as you run an idle finger along his twitching cock.

“Maybe… if you ask **really, really nicely…”

You don’t give him a chance to start begging properly before you lower your lips again, running your tongue along the underside of his rim as he gasps.

“O-Oh!”

You moan, loud and deliberate, relishing in the way he shivers at the way your voice thrums through his skin, and when you lower your head and feel him hit the back of your throat, Xavier keens — helpless and high and you think you feel his fingers in your hair as he fights between the urge to press you down and pull you back up. He settles for simply resting his hand there as you hollow out your cheeks and suck him down in earnest. A trail of broken little moans and gasps trickle from him as you work your mouth around him, pressing the flat of your tongue against him just to feel him jerk beneath you.

“If you’re good… I’ll show you something extra special,” you say after a few minutes, pulling off him with a loud pop and making a show of licking your lips.

“You… you really are ruthless…” he sounds breathless, but there’s a teasing note to the underbelly of his voice that sends tingles thrumming through your body. You can’t help the excitement that gathers in your gut at the thought of just what that tease might bring.

You drop a sweet kiss onto his hipbone before pulling yourself up the length of his body, rolling your hips down, groaning at the friction, your breath catching at the way his cock teases against your already-drenched pussy.

“Please…” Xavier’s teeth digs into his bottom lip, and you reach back to guide his aching cock toward your center, sinking down slow, relishing in the sting and the stretch.

It doesn’t take long after that — not with you sitting astride him, riding him with your palms planted on his chest. Not with the way your tits bounce and the way your thighs smack down over his hips with your every move.

It doesn’t take long, but far from being embarrassed, Xavier only hisses, before blinking a few times, almost sleepy as you ride him through his release. Then, he wiggles his wrists free from their constraints and plants his palms on either side of your hips, flipping you over with a single, fluid movement.

“Mm… that really was something…” he hikes your legs up over his shoulders and rolls his hips almost thoughtfully down against yours. You’re helpless to do anything but gasp as he brushes against a spot inside you that has you seeing stars.

“I learned a lot,” he says, grinning as he plucks the bunny ears from his ruffled hair and presses them gently into yours, “so… what do you say, bunny?”

You whimper as he drops a hand to thumb lightly at your clit, “Xavier — wait, what —”

“C’mon Miss Hunter… let me show you… what a good student I can be.”

lads reqs are: open

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