#who the fuck do expect to do that work exactly if you beat down OTHER PEOPLE

[hllywdwhre]

Revenge - Tommy Shelby

Summary: Reader takes personal offense over Sabini’s attack on Tommy

Warnings: arranged marriage, graphic depictions of violence, reader leaves a message written in blood, smut, creampie, light degrading, oral smut (f receiving), overstim, p in v, let me know if I missed any

Notes: I made this text post about protective reader and decided to write it lmfao. I want Tommy with a feral woman. Thank you to @slut4thebroken for proof reading, encouragement, and suggestions💖

MDNI, 18+ only

You weren’t quite sure how it had happened.

Scratch that.

You knew exactly how it had happened.

Your father and Tommy had worked out a deal when Sabini had first started trying to intimidate your father. A bride in exchange for protection and both of them walked away with extra allies when the inevitable war against Sabini broke out. You’d protested the marriage at first, screaming that you were more than just a political pawn for your father to sell when he needed help, but it went through anyway.

You had to admit, it wasn’t the worst thing that could’ve happened. Sure, Tommy was distant and seemed obsessed with work, but you knew you could’ve ended up in a much worse situation. He treated you with respect, never let you open a door on your own if he was around, always had a protective hand rested in the small of your back, and… the sex was great.

Perhaps the thing you appreciated the most, was that he didn’t expect you to become the housewife you had feared you would be reduced to. You were your father’s only child, meaning when he died, you would become leader of his gang. You were a gangster the same way Tommy was and he seemed to realize that and respect it. You helped out with the daily runnings of the Peaky Blinders and helped with the daily runnings of your father’s gang at the same time. They both recognized your potential and weren’t afraid to use it.

It wasn’t until you were sitting in a family meeting about a year after your marriage that you realized you had grown to feel more than just okay with the marriage.

Tommy was a closed off individual and through the entire year you had been married, you felt like you were just starting to finally get to know the real him. You never pried because he never pried in your life. If you had general questions, neither of you were afraid to ask them, but anything more was left up for the person to tell. You had more questions than answers still, specifically about the matching scars on his cheeks, but you didn’t dare ask. He hadn’t asked about the scar that ran from your right shoulder blade down to your spine, so you didn’t ask about his scars.

It was a common occurrence for Esme, Ada, and Polly to sit with you at one of the desks in the betting shop, whispering things to you during family meetings to fill in any gaps and answer any questions you may have had.

“Alfie has informed me that the Sicilians are being provided aid by Sabini, in the form of cars and housing,” Tommy started, causing Arthur to let out a loud groan of frustration.

Before you could get dragged into hearing any more of it, you turned your head to Esme who was sitting next to you.

“Sabini’s a prick, I know that, but what has he done to us?” You asked quietly, your eyes still flickering back-and-forth between Tommy and the rest of his family as they spoke about what to do next.

Esme began explaining exactly what Sabini had done. How he and five other men came after Tommy in the dark of night, how he’d ripped out a tooth, sliced his cheeks, and beat him to an inch of his life.

The rage that settled inside of you was your first hint that you had grown to genuinely care for Tommy as more than just a friend and (amazing) fuck buddy. Your jaw remained clenched and set for the rest of the meeting, but as soon as the meeting was called to end, you wiped the look from your face and forced a calm expression to take over.

You stood up and walked over to Tommy, forcing a small smile to your lips,

“I’m not really feeling all that well. You go with your brothers for a drink, I’m just going to head back home, okay?” You said, meeting his eyes so he wouldn’t have a reason to not believe you.

Tommy’s eyebrows furrowed together as he tried to look for any sign you were lying. You had been fine that morning and fine two hours prior when you sat down for the meeting, but he had no reason to believe you were lying so he simply nodded, placed a hand on the small of your back to pull you closer to him, and kissed your forehead.

“I won’t be out long. Ask Frances for anything you need, okay, love?”

You nodded and the forced smile turned to a genuine one,

“I will, promise,” you told him before stepping away from him and waving goodbye to the rest of the family.

Yes. You had truly gotten lucky when it came to who you had been forced to marry.

The entire ride back to the Arrow House, you were silent and going over your plan in your head. You knew you’d have to earn Tommy’s trust back after this, but you didn’t particularly care. You were a force of nature on your best day. You were lethal when you were angry.

Once you arrived back, you immediately headed upstairs to yours and Tommy’s shared room. The marriage may have started off with the two of you in separate rooms, “I’m called the devil, but that doesn’t mean I’m some sort of monster. You can sleep in your own room until you’re comfortable sharing a bed,” but it didn’t take more than a couple weeks for you to eventually join him in bed.

Damn those blue eyes, full lips, and that jawline.

You grabbed a small bag and threw the first set of clothes you laid hands on into it, then, much more carefully, a dress. You grabbed everything else you needed and headed to Tommy’s office next.

I’ll be back soon. I’m sorry for lying, but I’ll be back.

You signed the note and left it in the center of his desk where you knew he would see it, held down by his ashtray.

As quickly as you had entered the house, you left it, getting right back into the car with the driver Tommy had employed for you. You told him the name of a hotel in London that you knew was just outside of anyone’s territory.

The drive seemed to pass by too quickly and soon you were saying goodbye to the driver and sending him home for the night. It was barely 7 in the evening when you got up to your room.

“If there is a God, please let me get through this. I’ll make it up to you… somehow,” you said quietly.

The beading on the dress swayed loudly around your body as you pulled the dress on. The pins in your hair seemed to be extra noticeable against your scalp. The straps on your shoes pressed into your skin more than usual. The blade held against your thigh and hidden by your dress seemed to refuse to warm up. Your left hand felt entirely too light with your ring missing.

You knew it was only your mind playing tricks on you. You’d worn this outfit before and it had always turned heads, which is exactly what you wanted.

You needed Sabini to notice you.

You greeted the cab driver politely as you stepped in and ignored the way his eyes seemed to follow you a bit too closely.

The doors of the club were held open for you and you made your way to the bar and took a seat, knowing you were just playing a waiting game now.

You could feel eyes on you. The wife of Thomas Shelby in Sabini’s club, hours away from Birmingham, far out of Peaky Blinders territory or her father’s territory. You stuck out like a sore thumb, even if you would have blended in during any other scenario.

It felt like an eternity passed before you finally saw the man that made your blood boil, but one glance at the clock above the bar told you it hadn’t even been an hour.

“You seem lost. I thought we had made it clear that your kind weren’t welcomed here,” Sabini said once he was in front of you.

A charming smile graced your lips and you looked up at him,

“My kind?” You questioned, playing innocent.

“Yes. Your kind. You’re the wife of Thomas Shelby and I don’t appreciate him ignoring the last warning I gave him and sending you-“

“I wasn’t sent here,” you stopped him, lifting your left hand and pushing a piece of hair that hadn’t fallen back behind your ear, “and I’m not really a Shelby or a Blinder, am I?”

His eyes were drawn to your hand and noticed the lack of a ring you wore and he quirked an eyebrow at you.

“Is that so? I was under the impression the two of you were lovebirds.”

You pulled your bottom lip between your lips and looked away, trying to come off as shy. When you looked back up to him, you hoped the look on his face meant he was intrigued and believing you.

“Perhaps we could talk about it somewhere else… somewhere private?” You asked him, batting your eyelashes as you did so.

Gods help you. The smirk he gave you made your stomach twist and you wanted nothing more than to wipe it off his face, but patience was something you’d adopted a lot of.

“Allow me to show you to my office then,” he said, offering you a hand which you forced yourself to take.

He guided you through the club and towards the back. Some amount of luck seemed to be on your side as his office was behind the stage and provided some cover for any noise you might make. Even more so as you noticed a window just large enough for you to be able to crawl out of.

Once the door was shut behind you, he sat down behind his desk and motioned for you to take a seat in one of the chairs on the opposite side.

“Trouble in paradise, I take it,” Sabini said as he poured you both a drink.

“It was never paradise to begin with,” you replied, thanking him for the drink and taking a sip.

You had grown used to Tommy’s Irish whiskey and the bourbon he gave you wasn’t nearly as smooth going down.

“Was it not? From what I’ve heard, you two have quite the fairytale. Gang leader’s daughter married off to another gang leader, uniting two empires.”

“That’s not the way I see it,” you lied.

“And how do you see it?”

“A desperate father sold off his daughter to a desperate gang leader in an attempt for the both of them to gain more power and disregarded the woman’s wishes,” you replied simply, shrugging your shoulders.

“And so you’ve come to London for what?” Sabini questioned, wanting to hear you say it.

“Because I think we can help each other, Mr. Sabini,” you said, downing the rest of the bourbon and standing up.

His eyes followed your movements, his eyes trailing up your body before resting on your legs again.

“And how do you think we could help each other?” He asked.

You moved to stand in front of him, placing one leg over the side of his and straddled him, placing your arms around his neck.

“They trust me, Mr. Sabini. They don’t suspect me of anything,” you started. The shiver of disgust that rolled up your spine due to his hands trailing up the back of your thighs was one he apparently took as excitement as he gripped slightly at the backs of them, “I can tell you everything and, in return, I get out of my marriage once they’re all gone.”

“They don’t even realize the ticking time bomb they’ve got in their fingertips, do they?” He asked and a chuckle left your lips as a genuine smirk took over.

“They don’t…” you said, trailing your hands down his chest and then up your thigh, trying to make the move appear seductive. Your fingers wrapped around the hilt of your knife, “and neither do you, apparently.”

His eyes widened and he realized the trap he had walked into at the same time as you pressed the blade of the knife to his neck.

“I’d say that if you ever threaten my husband or our family again, you’ll regret it, but you won’t be,” you told him, unable to resist pausing for a touch of dramatic effect before adding on, “Never fuck with a Shelby.”

In the next second, you were quickly slicing the knife across his neck and flinching back as his blood coated you.

You knew your next move was morbid, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. It had been morbid for him and five other men to attack your husband when he was alone. It was morbid for him to rip out his tooth. It had been morbid for him to slice his cheeks. It was just as morbid for you to quickly and quietly clear off his desk, dip your fingers into his blood, and leave a bloodied message across his desk.

Revenge is a scorned Shelby

As soon as the message was written, you grabbed one of the coats from the coat rack and slipped it on, then crawled out of the window. The coat was long enough to cover all of the bloodied mess that was now your dress.

Sabini is dead.

That seemed to be the only thing you could think of as you were driven back to the Arrow House. It wasn’t the first time you had killed a man and you knew it wouldn’t be last.

But you hadn’t told anyone about this time. You hadn’t told anyone your plan, where you were going, or why you were doing it. You had also just started a war.

You weren’t surprised to see almost every light in the house still on when you arrived, and you made sure to slip the cab driver a little extra for the long drive.

You hadn’t risked staying in London longer than you needed to. You had gone into your hotel room, grabbed your bag, and promptly left, only taking the time to slip your wedding ring back on when you were in the cab.

When you stepped into the house, Tommy was in the hallway. All he saw as you stepped in the door was you, in another man’s coat, your wedding ring still on your finger, but your hair and makeup done much differently than it had been you had left.

You stayed silent as you stared at him with nervousness written on your face.

He put out his cigarette and quirked an eyebrow at you, a silent prompt for you to explain yourself.

Your silent explanation was to undo the tie on the coat and let it fall to the floor, revealing your blood stained dress.

“I need a fucking drink for this one,” Tommy grumbled, motioning for you to follow him. He guided you to his office and poured both of you a drink, handed you your glass, then sat down in his office chair. “What the fuck did you do?”

“Do you want the short version or the long version?” You asked, a smirk on your face as he looked up at where you still stood across the room.

Despite himself, he couldn’t help but chuckle and shrug his shoulders,

“Humor me. Short version first,” he told you.

“About a year ago I got married, and tonight I started a war.”

Tommy leaned forward, resting his elbows on his desk and running a hand over his face, “Long version.”

“About a year ago, I got married. Over the past year my husband has been nothing but a respectful gentleman, making it nearly impossible for me not to fall for him when you combine it with his fucking blue eyes that could bring the devil to his knees,” you started, feeling the hint of a blush creep into your cheeks, which you knew he noticed by the way his eyes flicked to your cheeks and then back to your eyes, “then today we had a meeting with his family where he mentioned Sabini. When I asked, his sister-in-law told me about what Sabini had done to him. About how my husband had been beaten to an inch of his life and brutalized, leaving him permanently scarred, and I knew I had to make the bastard pay.

“So, I lied to my husband and said I didn’t feel well. I went home, packed a bag, left him a note saying I’d be back, and went to London. I rented a hotel room where I changed into a fancy dress and did my hair and makeup, then I wrapped a knife to my thigh and slid my wedding ring into my bag and went to The Eden Club. News of a Shelby woman spread quickly and Sabini showed up to question me within an hour. I lied to Sabini, told him that I didn’t want to be a Shelby and that I had never wanted to be one. He took me back to his office and I sat on his lap and made him think I was about to cheat on my husband when I slit his throat and made sure he knew it was because of what he’d done to my husband. I left a message on his desk, went back to the hotel, grabbed my bag, and then headed back to our house.”

Silence filled the room for a long moment as Tommy stared at you. His eyes were unreadable as he watched you.

“What did the message say?” He suddenly asked.

“Revenge is a scorned Shelby.”

“Nothing about the Peaky Blinders?” He asked curiously, tilting his head slightly.

“No.”

“No?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“It wasn’t Peaky business,” you answered confidently, watching him just as closely as he watched you as he stood from his chair and came to stand in front of you.

“Was it not?” He questioned, taking the untouched glass of whiskey from your hand and setting it on the desk before turning back to stare you down.

“No. It was Shelby business, but not Peaky business.”

“Explain.”

“He didn’t just harm a Peaky Blinder. He harmed a Shelby, my Shelby.” Your gaze was unwavering as you held eye contact with him. You wanted him to know you meant your words. He was yours, and the protective touches on your back when you were in public and the way he intimidated and glared at any man who tried approaching you was all the proof you needed to know that you were his.

“So I’m your Shelby?” He asked as he took a step towards you and continued to do so until you pressed against the office door.

“Yes.”

“And that means you’re mine?” He questioned, his hands now pressed against the wall on either side of your head.

You could feel that you were walking into some sort of trap, but you didn’t have a way out of it right now. All you could do was be honest.

“Yes.”

“Then you should know something about what it means to be mine.”

“What’s that?” You asked, your breathing getting shorter as he lowered his face so it was level with yours.

In a second his hands were on your waist and he had you picked up against the wall with legs instinctively wrapping around his hips.

“My Shelby is to never come home wearing another man’s coat again,” he said, pressing his lips to yours in a rough kiss.

You don’t know what reaction you had expected from him, but being pinned to his office door and him kissing you hadn’t been one you had thought of. Your shock wore off after half a second and you returned the kiss as your arms wrapped around his neck to keep him close.

“You’re not mad?” You asked against his lips.

“At you starting a war?” He questioned, leaning down and beginning to trail kisses hastily down your neck.

“Yes,” you replied, leaning your head back to give him more access.

“Livid,” he said with no hint of joking in his voice.

“This is quite the punishment,” you replied sarcastically. A moan fell from your lips as he nipped at your pulse point.

“Oh, I’m livid,” he said, looking up at you, “but also extremely turned on at the thought of my wife slicing a man’s throat over me and coming home still covered in his blood.”

You weren’t given a chance to respond before he was kissing you again. Your hands came down to his tie, pulling it loose before starting to work at the buttons of his waistcoat.

He didn’t bother setting you down, only turned the two of you around and walked you over to the couch in the office. He laid you down on it and then pulled the waistcoat off before leaning back down between your legs and kissing you again once. His lips started trailing down your neck again while your hands went to undo the buttons of his shirt.

“Someone’s impatient tonight,” he teased as nipped at your skin again.

“You’re the one who pinned me to the door after I revealed I killed a man for you,” you replied in the same teasing tone as him. You undid the last button of his shirt and pushed the fabric off his shoulders, his undershirt following a second later.

He reached his hand to the side of your dress and unzipped it, pulling the fabric down your body while his hands grabbed hold of your underwear, stockings, and garters in the same move and pulled them off, leaving you completely naked underneath him.

He stared and looked over your body a moment longer before running his hands up your thighs and giving a gentle tap to your thigh,

“Up,” he said, causing your eyebrows to furrow in confusion.

You did as told though and sat up, leaving him enough room to lay on his back and pull you up to straddle him,

“Was killing a man not enough work?” You teased, not actually minding if he was going to have you ride him. At least it meant you wouldn’t be subjected to him teasing you when all you really wanted was for him to fuck you.

“That’s cute,” he said sarcastically, gripping your thighs and attempting to pull you further up his torso, “that’s not where you’re sitting tonight.”

The man was no stranger at using his mouth to make you see stars, but you’d never ridden his face before. You looked at him, the question obvious on your face.

“Seriously?” You asked even though you knew by his face that he was.

“Seriously. You were enough of a leader to go after Sabini, you’re enough of a leader to sit on my face. Up,” he repeated again while his grip on your thighs tried pulling you forward.

You did as you were told this time, shuffling forward until you were straddling his face. You weren’t given a choice of when to sit as his hands came to your hips and pulled you down, forcing your full weight onto his waiting mouth.

If there was one thing you were grateful for, it was Thomas’ ability to use his tongue and lips in more than just outsmarting his enemies.

His tongue trailed through your lips, his hands keeping your hips in place, while his tongue slowly explored you at first.

It had only taken a couple weeks for you to crack and make the first move on Tommy, joining him in bed one night when you’d decided you could trust him, and you’d been insatiable and addicted to him ever since, though he never complained. He’d spent the first couple times figuring out every move that made you tick and every name that made your cheeks flush and used them to his advantage at every turn.

His tongue was a gift with the way he knew exactly how to use it. He dragged it up and down between your folds, drinking in every bit of your arousal before focusing on your clit, alternating between quick flicks and long drags.

Tommy’s hands on your hips began guiding them, silently instructing you to take control. You didn’t hesitate in going along with what he wanted you to do and began rocking your hips. One of your hands trailed to his hair while your other went to lay on top of one his that gripped your hip. You hadn’t realized the volume of your moans until you felt the vibration of his moan against your clit.

Your hips jerked at the added stimulation and he hummed against you purposefully, his eyes never leaving you as your hips sped up, chasing your own high. Within moments you could feel it approaching and your grip on his hair and hand tightened, moans of his name falling from your mouth like a prayer.

“Please, fuck,” you cried, whimpers falling from your lips, “Tommy, Tommy…”

Your high crashed over you a moment later and you felt Tommy’s movements begin to slow down as you rode out your high, your chest rising and falling rapidly as you caught your breath.

You went to move off of him, but his grip on your hips tightened at the same time that his tongue started speeding up again.

Your moans of pleasure turned to whimpers of over stimulation and you squirmed against him, but he didn’t let up. Your hips jerked as you tried moving away from him, but all it did was add to the stimulation.

You could practically feel him smirking underneath you as he continued on, watching as your eyes clenched shut and you relented yourself to letting him torture you so beautifully.

If it wasn’t for the way your body was on edge from not being given any type of break after your first orgasm, you might have felt slightly ashamed at the way he was able to bring you to your second orgasm so quickly.

And then your third.

Tears were freely falling from your face when he finally slowed his movements to a stop and helped you to lay down on your back.

He trailed soft and slow kisses along your thighs and stomach to help bring you back down to earth. When his lips reconnected with yours, you returned the kiss, letting your eyes fall shut at the surprisingly tender moment.

“Next time you want to start a war, at least let me know your plans,” he said, causing you to open your eyes and be met with a smirk dancing across his lips, “and don’t doubt my punishments.”

You could’ve smacked the smirk off his face if it wasn’t for the fact he had turned your entire body into mush.

“Think you can be a good girl and handle one more?” He asked.

Your cheeks flushed at the praise and his hands moved to his belt and pants, pulling them off after you nodded your confirmation.

Once the rest of his clothes had been removed, he gently lifted your legs and positioned himself between them. He was gentle as he pushed inside you, but the smirk on his face from the way your voice cracked when you moaned was obvious.

The stretch was familiar at this point, but it didn’t mean you didn’t need the moment he gave you to adjust. When you nodded your head, he started moving.

Tommy knew your body like he knew his own after your time together. His hips immediately changed position as he started thrusting, making sure to hit the spot inside you that added to the ways your legs shook underneath him.

He leaned down and placed his elbows on either side of your head, capturing your lips in a kiss right as a moan parted through them. One of his hands came back to cradle the back of your head and his fingers tangled into your hair to keep you close to him.

His other hand went to one of your legs and pulled it up so it rested in the crook of his elbow, causing him to hit even deeper inside you.

The action caused you to let out a high pitched moan and you wrapped your arms around him. Your next moan broke the passionate kiss the two of you had shared while your nails raked down his back.

“Who do you belong to?” He asked, beginning to speed up the movements of his hips.

“Y-you,” you moaned out, your back arching underneath him.

“Say my name. Who do you belong to?” He repeated.

“Thomas Shelby,” you answered and dropped your head back.

“Good girl. You’re my fucking wife,” he moaned out. He sat up, using one hand to keep your leg up in the same position while his other hand went to your already over sensitive clit, “all mine. No other man gets to touch you, look at you, or even fucking think of you. It’s my cock that you’re whimpering over right now, and it’s the only cock you’ll ever be whimpering over again.”

“I’m yours, Tommy,” you repeated, your voice breaking as moan after moan fell from your lips.

“Then cum for me. Be a good Shelby wife and make a fucking mess on my cock just like how you made a mess of this war tonight,” he commanded.

You didn’t need any more encouragement from him as your fourth orgasm hit you, causing your back to arch again and your nails to run down his arms.

His moves start to become more sloppy and his pace sped up as he began to chase his own high, the feeling of your cunt squeezing around his cock only driving him closer to the edge.

“Want to feel you Tommy, please,” you moaned underneath him, “please, cum inside me.”

“Fuck,” he swore out. His hips pushing against yours as his high hit him and his arms came down to either side of your head again while he shoved his face into your neck, completely claiming you as his own while his cum filled you.

His hips slowed as he rode out both of your highs and your arms came to wrap around him, placing a gentle kiss on the side of his head you could reach.

Once the two of your breathing had slowed down to a normal pace, he moved to push himself up and your legs around his waist tightened along with your arms.

“Don’t. Not yet,” you said in a quiet voice.

“I’m going to crush you, love.” He placed soft kisses along your shoulders between his words as he tried warning you.

“I’m a grown woman. I’ll tell you if it’s too much,” you replied and began running your nails softly along the shaved part of his head, knowing the motion worked on him every time.

“Stubborn,” he falsely chided, but relented and relaxed back into your hold.

“Little late to the party if you’ve just worked that out.” Your reply causing both of you to chuckle. “Remind me to start more wars if it means you fuck me like that every time.”

His hand came down and gently slapped your thigh in response while a burst of quiet giggles left your lips.

“Stubborn and a brat,” he teased, sitting up again and carefully sliding out of you.

“Too bad you’re stuck with me,” you responded with a smirk.

“I don’t think of it that way,” he said as he stood up and wrapped his arms under your waist and legs before pulling you up into his arms.

“How do you think of it?” You asked him as he carried you across the hall and into your shared room.

“I think I’m lucky enough to be married to a woman who killed for me over a years-old attack even though we’d never even said that we loved each other.” He set you down in the middle of the bed before crawling in next to you and pulling you into his chest.

A bright blush rose to your face as he pointed out that you had never even said you loved each other, even though you had admitted to him earlier that you had fallen for him. You didn’t know how to reply immediately and you turned in his arms to look up at him, his arms staying locked around your waist.

He didn’t seem to expect you to reply though, because he leaned in to you, pressing his lips against yours. The kiss was tender and sweet, as if he was trying to communicate what your actions had meant to him without having the words to say it.

“I fell for you, too,” he finally admitted, “I don’t know when it happened, but I know that I realized it tonight. The panic I felt to see your note and to see you come home covered in blood. The anger I felt over seeing you another man’s jacket. The way I felt when you revealed what you had done and why…” He trailed off, looking down at you and seeming to try and memorize every part of your face, “You’re mine.”

“I’m yours and you’re mine,” you replied, leaning up to kiss him.

“I’m yours and you’re mine.”

#thomas shelby #thomas shelby smut #thomas shelby x reader #Thomas Shelby x reader smut #tommy shelby #Tommy Shelby smut #Tommy Shelby x reader #Tommy Shelby x reader smut #cillian murphy imagine #cillian murphy #cillian smut #cillian murphy x y/n smut #cillian murphy x fem!reader #cillian murphy x reader smut

[stevieschrodinger]

Baker Steve/Rock Star Eddie wrong number AU

Part One

Part Two

PART THREE

"It's like a TV show, but on YouTube."

"Right," Steve answers, half listening to Dustin's explanation, "so it, like what, has an air time, or whatever?"

"Yeah, like a series."

"And it's just, what, famous people playing dipshits and dickheads?"

"Steeeeeeeeeeeevvvvveeeeeeeeeeee why are you like this?"

"Dunno," Steve shrugs, trying to read a recipe online. Unfortunately that's resulted in his having to scroll past someones entire fucking life story and he's ready to give up and try and work out the dumb Oreo cake recipe himself, "just lucky, I guess."

Dustin drops his head on the kitchen counter like Steve is the greatest difficulty he's ever going to face.

"So why do you need to be here to watch this?"

"Because we all want to watch it together, the guests are Corroded Coffin, they all like, play, the whole band, it's so cool-"

"Corroded Coffin? Playing your nerd game?" Steve's interest leaks through before he can stop it, "I mean, like, I think I've heard of them?" The last thing he needs is the kids finding out he's been kind of friends kind of flirting kind of maybe wants to date the actual Eddie Munson.

Dustin looks at him skeptically, "yeah...so you-"

"You can all watch it here, it's fine...I'll make cookies."

Dustin's completely distracted by his own success, instantly whipping out his phone to inform the other kids. Steve's pretty sure their group chat is called 'No Steve's allowed' but he hasn't actually found out for sure yet.

Steve does bake cookies. All the kids are gathered around his smart TV, absolutely demolishing them while they wait for this thing to start. It's like, an actual channel, with intros and graphics and stuff, a logo that reads 'Final Roll.'

And there's Eddie and the band, sitting around a table with two dudes who must run the channel. They all have the bits of paper and dice and little figures that Steve's used to seeing when the kids commandeer his dining room table.

There's preemptive ramble, and Steve leans forward a little every time Eddie's in shot. He's relieved all the kids are all sitting in front of him and all glued to the TV, so he can ogle in peace. They do introductions, and then everyone introduces their characters.

"May I introduce Sir Steven, the half elf paladin," behind Eddie Gareth rolls his eyes so hard his whole fucking body moves. Steve can see him and Geoff mouthing something to each other. Steve can only assume it's because Eddie has named his character, presumably, after him, "he has a sworn oath to always protect those weaker than himself."

Steve's heart fucking melts.

Steve's phone is buzzing. He's prepared. He knows Eddie's back in the country, they've been talking for months. Steve's kind of done waiting, and he's ready to press his advantage. He's had this set up for a little while, just waiting for the right moment. He presses play, and then answers the phone.

"Hey Stevie how-...are you listening to Corroded Coffin?"

"Yeah, yeah," Steve turns it down, bomb dropped, trap sprung, advantage played, "the kids absolutely love them, they're trying to get me into them even though they're not exactly my thing."

"Right, ah, right, what do you, uhm, think?"

"Yeah. Still not my thing-"

"Oh."

"But I really like it when the lead guy sings."

"...yeah?"

"Yeah, not the like, shouty growly singing, I can't understand a fucking thing he's saying-" Eddie chuckles, "but like, the parts where he properly sings. I think he has a beautiful voice."

"I ah, well, I mean, I bet the, uhm, shouty bits are hard work, you know. I expect that takes a lot of, you know, practice. Hell on the throat. I imagine, I would guess anyway, I don't actually, like know-"

"No no, yeah, well, maybe he should just sing more then, save those vocal chords, or whatever. I'd like that a lot."

"Yeah?" Steve can practically hear Eddie blushing down the phone. Eddie's so cute when he goes shy.

"Yeah." There's a long beat of silence before Steve goes in for the kill, "the kids are trying to get me to go see them. They're in the states now, apparently. Will be playing a gig in Indie."

"Yeah they are- I mean, I assume they are, most bands, uhm, yeah-" And Steve is hardly holding it together, Eddie is such a bad liar, and he's trying so hard not to lie at all. Steve doesn't know how he;s keeping his tone normal and not letting the whole ass cat out of the bag.

"And the kids are absolutely itching to go, you know? But tickets man, they're all doing every chore they can find to get some extra cash, but tickets are pricey, and for eight of us? Because I'll need someone else to help me chaperone and, you know..."

"I. I might...know a guy. Maybe. Like, because of the band I might...know someone who can get you tickets."

"Seriously? Eddie that would be incredible, the kids will absolutely loose their shit."

"Yeah, ah, is your work email cool?"

"Yeah, yeah, of course of course, man, the kids are going to love you for like, forever."

And maybe I will too, Steve just about manages to keep the words inside.

@steves-yellow-cardigin @melodymeddler @pitrsattabhaadmeinjao

@superduckmilkshake @she-collects-smut @paintsplatteredandimperfect @resident-gay-bitch

#eddie munson #stranger things #steve harrington #steddie #my fic writing #fan fic stuff #fic wip #ficlet #rock star eddie munson #baker steve harrington #dungeons and dragons

[the-offside-rule]

Max Verstappen (Red Bull Racing) - Reconsider

Requested: yes

Prompt: 35) "Can I convince you to stay?"

41) "Do that thing I like"

52) "You looked great out there today"

Warnings: smut, 18+, douchebag Max, teammate x teammate, possessive Max, oral (f!receiving), edging

Christmas Day 7

Y/n smiled as she took her helmet off. P2 in qualifying and it was what she expected to be her last race at Red Bull. While she loved the people there, she wasn't winning and that is quite frankly what she wanted to do. She didn't think she could do that having to play second fiddle to Max Verstappen. When she hopped out of the car, she was met with Lando who congratulated her and joked she should come to McLaren. She laughed along with him until she felt a poke at her shoulder and she knew exactly who it was. She turned to see her teammate with his helmet hair looking as hot as ever and a lazy smile on his lips. "You looked great out there, today. Pity you're not here next season." He said. Y/n smiled back and took her own helmet off. "Yeah, a real shame." She replied and placed her helmet onto the podium table.

Max moved closer and leaned down to her ear. Her heart beat in her chest. "Can I convince you to stay?" Max whispered lowly into her ear. She looked around at all the cameras snapping photos and videos of this moment, yet kept her composure. "Bold move." She replied, still smiling. He looked down to her lips. "I can."

As Y/n went around the media pen, she anticipated finishing up so she could get her convincing to stay by the dutchman. It wasnt the first time they would fuck and it probably wouldn't be the last. Neither of them did this for feelings, it was simply to blow off steam after sessions and it kept them both focused without getting frustrated. The team knew and they didn't care as long as it didn't interfere and it never did. Both drivers did their job, then left for a half hour only to come back as professional as they started the day. Sometimes, they'd even schedule to hook up in between weekends, just because they could and the PR would handle the media speculating about the closeness of the two. Their favourite was when the other would do well in a race or when both would DNF. It was good to celebrate, but it was good to angry fuck too. For today, however, Y/n didn't know which side of Max she would get.

She smiled as her last interview finished and she began walking towards her trailer. Y/n looked around slyly, trying to find where her beloved dutchman was and surely she saw him hanging closely by. She smirked and walked quicker to her driver room, lifting her phone to pretend she was answering a phone call to avoid questions from the fans and paparazzi. Shortly after she closed her door, Max barged in. "New record." Y/n joked. "What can I say? I like breaking records." Max said, walking towards her and almost immediately beginning to kiss her lips hungrily. Y/n unzipped her overall and wrapped it around her waist, her lips not leaving his, both their lips fighting for dominance. That was the problem for her. They fought for dominance both on the track and behind closed doors and that was a dynamic that wouldn't work for her.

"Please stay." Max said, unzipping his overall. Y/n's hand ran down his under armour before her hand lifted it and ran over his toned abs. "Will you let me dominate?" She asked, lingering dangerously close to his lips. "In what way?" He asked. He moved his forehead closer and they ended up touching. "You know what way. I want to beat you." He chuckled and let his own hand drop to her hips and pulled her closer. "And why would I let you?" Y/n turned and looked out the one way glass, before she took her hair tied off and let her hair fall. "Well it's more of a 'you scratch my back, I scratch yours' kind of thing." She explained, moving her hair over to one side, knowing Max was right behind her to begin nipping at her neck and he did just that. She grimaced as her teammate's hands glided up under her fireproof shirt and began caressing her breasts. "You know I can't do that. But I can let you dominate and beat me in my apartment." He whispered. Y/n turned again to look back to him. "That's a pity." She began pushing the driver backwards before he fell back onto the sofa.

Max couldn't comprehend what was happening before Y/n hopped on top of him and began grinding. They both felt his erection growing within seconds. They looked down and grinned. "Are you gonna take care of that?" Max asked, biting his lip and sighing as Y/n lowered her hand cupped the clothed area. "Do that thing I like." Max begged. "You're meant to be convincing me to stay and you want me to pleasure you? I may have to go sign with Mercedes now, I'm afraid." She chuckled. "You're acting like that would change what we're doing." Max replied boldly. "It might not, but I'm sure whoever my teammate is would love to do what you're doing. And maybe they'd do it better-" Max hopped up and lifted her over to the counter and slammed her down with such force, she felt shaken. Max spun her around so she was leaning against the counter before he grabbed her wrists, holding them behind her back and pushing down. "No one would do you better than I do you." He growled. "Prove it." She replied. Max grinned and undid the lower part of his race suit. "You're not going to be able to walk tomorrow, nevermind drive." He tugged at her race suit, chucking down to her ankles and taking his length out and delving into her. She gasped. He didn't give her a chance to adjust to him this time. She was getting angry Max, and that made her smile. His thrusts were deep and hard, just as she liked. He loved the sounds that fell from her mouth. Strings of curses, followed by his name. Heavenly. He let go of her wrists and wrapped his hand around her neck, pulling her back towards him. "Look out there, shcat." He demanded. Y/n looked out at the people walking around the paddock. She even spotted some drivers still doing their interviews.

"You're so loud, I wonder if the media pen knows how good I fuck you yet." He whispered into her ear. "Just keep going." She pleaded. His spare hand spanked her, making her moan in bed pain and please. "Look in your mirror, I want to watch you." He watched as her face contorted with each thrust she took. Her moans grew louder and louder before she crumbled and her knees nearly gave out. Her finger nails dug into the wooden countertop as her mouth fell open. Max leaned closer. "I'm not finished yet." She groaned. "I can't. Fuck me, I-"

He pulled out and pulled her up onto the countertop before dropping to his knees and looked up to her. She looked down to him through hooded eyes. "You wouldn't." She huffed. Max boldly kissed her thighs, inching his way closer and closer to her soaked pussy. "Max, don't tease me." She pleaded. "You wanted convincing, you're getting it." His mouth got to work, making her crumble yet again. Her fingers tangled in his dirty blonde strands of hair, her grip tightening with each swipe of his tongue. He grabbed her thighs and threw them over his shoulders. "Max, Max I'm gonna cum again." She whimpered. Max stopped and looked up at her. "New record." He smirked and stood again, her legs still on his shoulders. He stroked his cock, leaving it at her entrance. "Can you just fuck me?! I don't know what the problem is!"

He pushed in and started a quick pace. Y/n's fingers dropped to her clit, rubbing it to match the rhythm of Max. "Who's my good girl?" He asked. Y/n couldn't speak. She could only hum in response. "I can't hear you, schat." He said, edging her on to answer. "Oh my god, me! I am!" He grinned. "Max, can I cum?" She asked. "Wait for me, schat. You're taking it so well for me." She took her legs off his shoulders and sat up, gripping his shoulders now and kissing him again. She moved her hips to meet his thrusts and in no time, Max began moaning and his thrusts became sloppy. "Can we cum now, Maxie?" She pouted with a strained voice. That was enough for Max to come undone. Her begging and her using his pet name. "Ugh, fuck- yes!" He replied before they both came undone, holding onto eachother. As they rode through their orgasms, they simply kissed before Max pulled out and the pair went to change and get ready to leave the track. "Look, you've been a good teammate." Max said. "Well, yeah. I don't think any other teammate would suck you off in between sessions." Y/n replied. Max smiled and looked back but she wasn't laughing. She was tying her race boots. "Y/n, besides that. I mean this, you've been one of my better teammates." Y/n watched as Max walked towards the door and he looked back. "Just, consider re-signing?" He said, before closing the door and leaving.

A week later, Max scrolled through his phone when he came across an Instagram post.

Y/L/N RE-SIGNS WITH RED BULL FOR 2024 AND BEYOND

Max grinned and opened his messages

Congratulations on resigning. We should meet up to celebrate ; )

#f1 blurb #f1 imagine #f1 oneshot #f1 oneshots #max verstappen x you #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen one shot #max verstappen imagines #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen #max verstappen smut

[msbigredmachine]

Checkmate - A Roman Reigns One-Shot

The new Smackdown GM reminds the Tribal Chief who’s boss, in more ways than one. The aftermath of the highly entertaining WrestleMania 40 Press Conference.

Pairing: Roman Reigns/OC

Word Count: 5.9k

Warning: Smut

Click here if you want to be on my tag list. If I’ve forgotten anyone please let me know so I can add you.

-----

Answer your fuckin phone.

She's been expecting his text message, to add to the half-dozen missed calls he's already deluged her phone with. His WrestleMania plans were thrown into disarray tonight and for some reason he thinks she has something to do with it.

Too bad she doesn't give a fuck what he thinks.

I'm calling you one more time. You better pick up.

So bossy. Always has been. But he knows damn well who the boss really is. When her phone springs to life again with his beautiful face snarling at her through the screen, she rolls onto her back with a heavy sigh, smooths down her oversized t-shirt and presses the green button, waiting to hear his deep voice on the other end of the line.

"What the fuck, Joy!"

Damn. Even when he's pissed, he sounds sexy as hell; it's the same menacing timbre he adopts when he's folding her up and turning her out. The memory makes her hot between her thighs.

"Reigns." Her voice is calm and steady despite the thumps of her heart, calling out to him even when she doesn't want it to.

"Why was Cody there tonight? Hmm?" he demands, his temper simmering beneath his words. "I coulda sworn he agreed to step aside for Dwayne. Why he change his mind? Did you have something to do with it? What'chu say to him, huh?"

She extends her left hand to inspect her ombre-colored acrylic nails. "Calm your tits. I don't control Cody's actions, I'm Smackdown's GM, not Raw's. He won the Rumble and he has the right to choose who he wants."

"Don't patronize me, Joy! Rock and I were a done deal!"

"You sound tense, Reigns. Paranoid, even," she smirks, "Worried you can't beat the American Nightmare a second time? Besides, you heard the fans...they wanna see you and him-"

"Bullshit!" he cuts her off. "This wasn't about no fans. You wanted this and I know why. You saw the pictures of me and Venita over Christmas and you been in your feelings ever since."

It's a predictable, childish response, and though there's some truth to it, she dismisses its immature delivery. "What you do with your bitch is your business. You are marrying her, after all," she says coolly, hearing him bristle at the other end.

"See? We ain't had a civil conversation since those photos got out. I know exactly how you feel about her, so tell me I'm lying."

"Don't ever question my ability to separate business from pleasure. You are walking proof of that," Joy warns him. "My problem is with you questioning my authority, with your silly little threats and your temper tantrums. You did it leading up to the Rumble and I'll be damned if I let it happen again. In case you forgot, I run Smackdown now. You work for me. The Mania match is scheduled, so your ass better show up in Philly, you understand me?"

A long, tense moment crawls by.

"Are you done?" he says, sounding bored.

"No. Whatchu gon' do about it?" Joy challenges.

"You looked hot as fuck in that dress tonight."

She rolls her eyes. Of course he deflects. But it's not going to work this time. She wants him to feel as frustrated as she has been over the last couple of months. "Ain't your fiancée over there with you?" she retorts, her tone clipped and snarky.

"She's in the Hamptons. And even if she was here, that ain't never stopped us anyways," he calls her out.

"Whatever." As flippant as she's tried to be about it, she is growing tired of the same old song and dance between her and Roman. She's allowed him to juggle her and Venita, and she blames herself for not leaving him alone when he chose to stay with her. Perfect, pretty little naive Venita. The IG influencer extraordinaire whose only two cares in life are her follower count and the picture-perfect aesthetics of the 'Roman & Venita' brand.

Whatever helps her sleep at night, I guess.

Joy had wondered just how perfect they really were the first time she saw the couple backstage in the Thunderdome, with Venita looking bored as hell the entire time she was there. It was clear that she had no interest in Roman's world, and Joy told him just that. Certain she would be fired on her first day for opening her big mouth, he had merely laughed and agreed, and it was then she found out she was his producer for the upcoming Bloodline saga. Onscreen, they created magic with the now legendary Tribal Chief storyline, but the magic they soon began making behind the scenes and between the sheets was even better and way too hot for TV.

She's never had time to be ashamed of inserting herself in someone else's relationship, mainly because her career has accelerated to the top of WWE's creative hierarchy. Plus, she's not about to give up such great sex, not with a stroke game that superb and a libido as high as her ambitions. Sometimes she wishes she doesn't have to share him, but she accepts that she can't have it all. After all, she already lords over the A-show as Smackdown's General Manager, meaning she is virtually unstoppable now, with money, power, and most importantly, the balls of the biggest star in the industry in the palm of her hand. Literally.

But he's pissing her off right now.

"Look, I want us to talk. Come see me." He's turned on the charm but Joy refuses to fall for it.

"What I want is an apology for your constant disrespect ever since I became GM," she replies, "I told you; I don't give a damn that we're fucking. Do not make an enemy out of me, Roman."

The Tribal Chief sighs heavily. "Look. You're right. Let me make it up to you. Come to my room so we can talk things out."

"No. You just want pussy."

"That too," he snickers.

Joy bites her lip as she idly circles her middle and ring finger over her pussy lips. She had no prior plans to touch herself, but listening to his deep, haughty voice has sparked a throbbing between her thighs that needs urgent attention. "Right. Well, I don't feel like leaving my room. This bed is way too comfy," she emphasizes.

"Mine is comfier. Are you alone?" he asks.

"Wouldn't you like to know."

"Woman, you better not be givin' my pussy to nobody else," he growls, making her laugh.

"You're hilarious. My pussy is mine and mine alone, no matter how good you beat it and eat it," she reminds him, her smile widening as she hears him taking deep breaths, trying to compose himself.

"I see that you get off on testing my patience. Does that turn you on, baby girl? Hmm? Does it make that pussy wet? I bet you wet right now." His voice drops an entire octave at that last part, and she bites her lip to keep from moaning when her slick honey pools around her fingers.

"I might be," she gasps.

"Then bring your ass over here and let me take care of it."

Joy huffs, determined to resist him for as long as she can. "I can take care of myself, Reigns. Matter of fact, I'm doing just that as we speak..."

"Aww, babe, don't be touchin' on my pussy without me," he grumbles. His frustration makes her grin in triumph. She holds all the cards and she's enjoying listening to him squirm.

"I wanna see you, beautiful. We ain't been together in so long. I miss you," Roman continues.

"Is that right?"

"Uh huh. Don't you miss me, Joy? Don't you miss this dick? It definitely misses you. Listen..."

The slippery, sticky sound that follows his words is unmistakable, and her heart pounds in her chest at his soft groan. The image of him lying in his bed, probably naked, jerking off to her, makes her stomach flip and her pussy spasm beneath her fingers. The tension crackles over the phone, simmering with the same intensity as though he were right there in person.

"Hear that, baby? That's how bad I need you. Come over." His silky-smooth whisper finally loosens the last thread of control she has held onto tightly up to this point. She knows that ultimately, she won't deny him...she never does because she can't, and he knows that.

"Gimme ten minutes," she relents.

"Make it five."

"I said, ten. Text me your room number." Cutting the call before he can respond, she leaves her bed and searches for a couple of accessories to wear. After a quick check in the mirror, she picks up her phone and sees he's already sent her his room number. The thought of what is about to transpire hastens her flight out of the room, the dead of night no match for her rapidly burning need for him. She has since accepted that she will always need him, too.

His door swings open seconds after she knocks, and a surprised yelp escapes her when he yanks her inside and tugs her flush against him. He is barefoot, in gray sweatpants slung low on his hips, and shirtless to show off the majesty of his massive, inked chest. Joy meets his loaded stare head-on as he drinks in her own appearance. She is in one of his old Nike hoodies that she swiped from him and never gave back, with the open zipper in the middle showing the swell of her breasts underneath. Long pastel-pink stockings run up to her brown thighs with gray Crocs on her feet. As his eyes crawl hungrily up and down her frame, her body thrums with realization at just how hard he is, his sizable erection poking her lower belly. Despite their back-and-forth, it's no mistake that she intoxicates him, and that power thrills her.

"Like what you see, champ?" she asks, staring him down for his response.

Roman's moan is ragged as he clamps his huge paw around her throat and covers her mouth with his, and she instantly melts in his arms, her nerves alight from his touch. She is swept up in the softness of his lips, the sweetness of his taste that contrasts erotically with his aggressiveness and the eager, hungry flicking of their tongues as the kiss heats up. He feels wonderfully warm and smells incredible like he always does.

Reluctantly, his mouth retreats from hers and he tucks his face in the hollow of her neck. He nuzzles his cheek against her skin and inhales the fragrance he's missed so much, her hushed moan caressing the depths of his senses.

"You a vindictive little bitch, you know that?" he mumbles, pressing a kiss to her throat.

"Only when I wanna be," she hums, her eyes twinkling with mischief.

"You musta loved watching me lose my cool tonight," he adds, "I saw the look in your eyes on that stage when I got into it with those two bums. That shit turned you on. Your nipples were hard through your dress. And I'm sure that pussy was soaked."

Truth be told, seeing his cool calm composure collapse, with his long hair flying and cocky countenance as he talked shit to Cody and Seth, made her so wet she had to run into a restroom stall to take off her panties, forcing her to go commando for the rest of the night. She'll never admit it though; she never likes to give him the upper hand. "How do you know?" she challenges.

"Cuz I know you. I know everything about your body, sweetheart," Roman brags, "I know what you like, and I know you love testing me cuz it makes me wanna fuck the attitude outta you."

"So what are you waiting for?" She licks her glossy lips, full and pouting, goading him with her bedroom eyes. But the Tribal Chief can feel her body trembling, betraying her bravado. This time he has the upper hand and he plans to exploit it.

He pulls her hoodie over her head and his eyes immediately drop to the thin beaded belly chain adorning her slender waist, accentuating her delicious curves. Desire gleams in his brown irises at the sight of her bare breasts, the fleshy mounds popping out at him, her nipples hard and aching for his touch. "Fuck, you're sexy," he murmurs. He massages each one then leans down to lick and suck on them, his tongue and hands working together to pleasure her.

"Ooh, that feels good," she moans, placing her hair behind her ear to get a good look at him feasting on her nipples. Ever the multitasker, he grabs her white lace thong at the hem, yanking impatiently until it rips from her body. Joy bursts out laughing at his savagery. "I knew you was gon' fuck up my panties," she jokes.

"I replace 'em, don't I?" He abandons her breasts and kisses her again, this time sliding both hands down to her round backside and lifting her up to press her against the wall. The friction of their bare chests pressed together, nipples grazing, her legs wrapping around his waist and bringing them even closer, builds the desire. He grinds his throbbing hardness against the open heat between her thighs, and she gets him back by reaching inside his sweatpants and grabbing his dick, stroking the turgid flesh as it jumps in her grasp. "Mmm, baby you're so hard. Put it in me," she orders.

"Not yet," he cuts her off, his huge biceps flexing as he carries her across the lavish suite. "Come over here, you little slut. Come suck my dick in front of this great view of the Strip."

Next to the expansive window is an L-shaped sofa large enough for a good trip to Pound Town. As he takes off his pants, Joy can't stop herself from drooling at his towering form. Six foot three, bronzed Adonis with chocolate eyes, luscious hair, massive and muscled and all man, with a long, hefty cock pulsing between those powerful thighs. He looks like a demigod in all his glory, and she venerates at the altar of his beauty.

Roman settles himself at the other end of the sofa and eyes her down with a smug smirk. Tucking his hands behind his head, he spreads his legs. "Crawl to me," he commands, his smirk widening when she advances towards him on all fours. Joy is a work of art, with nicely sized titties, round hips, thick, mouth-watering thighs and ass and that fat pussy he dreams about at least once a day. Every part of her is real and silky soft to the touch. It's been years since he first tasted her, and he is still drunk off it. She is a potent drug he can't wean himself off of, and frankly, he doesn't want to. He loves Venita, but for all her prowess in bed, she does not possess a fraction of the wild thrill that encapsulates the woman before him. He wants Joy, needs her like he needs to breathe, and he always will. He will seek his fiancée's forgiveness when that day comes.

Joy slowly slithers up the length of his body, ignoring his erection for now as she straddles him and plants a long, wet kiss on his mouth, the sound of their lips meeting and parting filling the suite. Her hands caress the tight muscles of his body, having memorized all the spots that make his breath quicken and his pulse spike. He puts his hands on her hips, but she seizes them and pins them above his head without breaking stride, laughing when he moans out with frustration. She catches his tongue as it slides into her mouth, and she proceeds to suck on it, her head bobbing like she is sucking his dick. Saliva quickly gathers around their joined mouths as she feasts on only his tongue. It's the messiest, sloppiest, hottest kiss they've ever shared, and the tension is reaching fever pitch as a result.

"You want me to suck your dick like this, baby?" Joy asks. When Roman nods, she tugs his lower lip between her teeth. "Say it," she orders, her fingers digging into his wrists. Her hips are rolling too, moving in a seductive, serpentine dance that short circuits every fiber of his being. He can't move even if he wants to; his senses are pinned down to the bed along with his body. The Tribal Chief is helpless, forced to endure the sweetest agony, with the head of his dick grazing her wet slit and driving him insane. An uncharacteristic whimper deserts his lips as his blood pumps with agitation.

"Yes," he responds breathlessly.

"What's the magic word?" Joy presses. The mocking smirk gracing her pretty features should infuriate him, but it only arouses him instead.

"Please," he concedes, knowing full well that she will drag out the torture until he succumbs. With a triumphant smile and one more intoxicating kiss, she finally takes pity on him and makes the descent down his heaving body, soothing his butterscotch skin with soft kisses. As she nears his groin, his eyes squeeze shut, and he takes deep breaths to remain focused.

"You think you're in control, toying with two women's lives." Joy shakes her head. "Hell no. I'm in control, Roman. I own you. You're mine to do with however I want. And you know the best part?"

She closes her mouth over the tip of him, giving it a gentle suckle before driving home her point. "Deep down, you love that shit."

Roman merely grins. The power has shifted back in his possession and she doesn't even know it. He shows her when he strikes with lightning speed, grabbing her and twisting her around so her legs are on either side of his head. Stunned, Joy grabs his thighs to steady herself, as he's already grabbing handfuls of her ass while using his tongue to part her lower lips. Her body jerks from the warm fat wetness of his tongue lashing around her sensitive crevices, softening her up with his saliva. Heady with desire, she just lays there with his dick in her hand, too overwhelmed to do anything else but moan with pleasure.

A sudden, stinging smack on her left ass cheek jolts her back to earth.

"You gon' suck me off or what?" Roman demands impatiently before refocusing on his own task.

Regaining her senses, her mouth engulfs his length, her head bobbing with her wrist twisting around the base. She cups his balls and rolls them in her other hand, making him groan wantonly. Her mouth is warm and her pouty lips are tight around him, sliding up and down with her tongue trailing saliva along his hard flesh. He retaliates by spreading her pussy open and holding her down on him, sucking and licking her folds with rapid strokes and enjoying her sexy throaty sounds that mingle with the sloppy slurps of his mouth on her. The increased pressure on her sensitive pussy has her moaning and squirming against his face, which in turn floods his tongue with her taste. His appreciative groans while licking her in rhythm with her rolling hips sends shivers down her spine.

Mustering all the strength she possesses, Joy frees herself from his clutches and crawls back down his body, her juices smearing a slick trail along his torso as she guides his length inside her with impressive quickness. She moans out loud as he fills her, her head tipping forwards as his big palms paw at the supple flesh of her backside. Roman groans at the wetness that welcomes his dick as it disappears into the warm canal of her pussy. "Yeah, fuck me good, baby girl," he growls, slapping her ass in encouragement.

Holding onto his ankles, she rocks up and down his erection, winding her hips with each drop down to take him as deep as she can. His husky moans and his tight grip on her waist empower her. Joy seizes every chance she can to turn him into putty in her hands. Because the motherfucker never likes to relinquish control, always determined to break her down into submission; whether it's with his God-gifted tongue, or his huge hands choking her, or with that big ol' dick, fucking her against the wall of her office, bending her over the table in his locker room at TV, or making her ride him in the bowels of his private jet. It's fun taking control from him and showing him who's boss, on the job and especially outside of it.

"You love it when I ride this big dick dontcha? Got you deep in this pussy just the way you like it," she purrs haughtily, upping the ante by reaching down to grip his cock.

The Tribal Chief realizes she's on demon time to be stroking his dick while riding him. She looks so sexy on top of him, in them pretty waist beads and stockings. Her thick hips roll back lavishly, her even thicker ass presses down on his pelvis, grinding and twisting and nudging him all the way up in her creamy pussy. Damn. He loves the way she fucks him. Baby girl has mad skills and a juicy pussy, and he is glad to be the one she uses them on. "Go faster, baby. Bounce on my dick," he cajoles, massaging her ass cheeks and groaning softly when she obeys, "Uh-huh, just like that, babe, unnnh..."

She can almost see the look of pleasure on his face. She can definitely hear him as he tugs at the soft flesh of her butt, lost to the depths of her warm wetness, in the erotic sounds of their sex noises and their slapping skin filling the big room as she bounces on his dick. Another moan escapes her, her head tilting back as he angles his hips to make his dick reach that oh-so-sweet spot inside her. He smacks her ass again, earning yet another whimper from her lips as her juices trickle down his length down to his balls. Her thighs are starting to burn from her efforts, but she can't stop, not when she's so close...

"Uhhhn baby, I'm comin'," she gasps, leaning back to rest her hands on his chest as she gyrates her ass on him. Roman's breathing is as heavy as hers, his fingers digging into her hips to steer her movements. The sensations are overwhelming as her walls contract around him, her pussy moistening as she leans forward again and rides him even harder. Seconds later, a flooding orgasm bursts inside her with such power that it wracks her entire body with tremors. Through the thick fog of numbing pleasure, she hears Roman's surprised grunt as her cum leaks all over his groin area.

"Damn baby, you nuttin' all over me. I knew you been needin' this dick," he taunts her.

Truth be told, she wasn't expecting to come this hard, but fuck it always feels so good when she does. "Oh my god," her voice trembles, her hand clutching the headrest to keep from collapsing in a heap.

Roman spanks her again. "I ain't tell you to stop. Keep goin'..."

"Hol' up, you got me shakin' so much," Joy groans, her thighs still quivering. He is still deep inside her, his dick throbbing impatiently inside the warmth of her tight walls.

"If I take this shit over, you won't be able to walk in the morning, that's a promise," he threatens.

"Then quit talkin' and do that shit," she bites back, glaring at him over her shoulder.

"A'ight then." He pulls her backwards on top of him, with her back to his chest. He grabs her legs and holds her up by her knees, thrusting upwards into her, reveling in her surprised yelp that quickly dissolves into loud moans. This new position feels so good that she's whining and making noises that only seem to turn him on as he strokes in and out of her pussy from underneath, making her body react and remind her exactly why she's not leaving his trifling ass anytime soon.

"Uhnnn yes, Roman, fuck me," she whimpers over and over, her mind spiraling, her eyes rolling back. He is relentless, pulling her legs further back and pounding her faster, sparking another intense orgasm. She squirts so hard that she's left dizzy and boneless, causing her to slip off his sweat-slick body, a shivering crumpled mess. She curls up into a fetal position and gives in to the intense euphoria of her release. With a proud snicker, the Tribal Chief caresses all over her body, then rolls her onto her stomach, spreading her thighs to observe the damage he's inflicted on her pussy.

"We ain't finished," he informs her, tapping his hard, slickened dick against her soaked, puffy folds. She tenses and arches her back on instinct, anticipating his invasion. He smiles behind her, grabs her hips, and drags her limp body up and onto his hard, waiting dick. The moans they exhale together is a symphony that serenades the pair as he continues his hard, deep thrusts. With her hips in the air and her backside in his calloused palms, she is at his mercy yet again, and her vision swims at the feeling of him practically in her spine. She knows just how deep that big ass dick of his can get inside her, but it never fails to wipe her mind blank when it does.

"Oh, fuck," she mumbles into the couch, her face sinking further in it as he drills into her hard and rough. It hurts so good that it's quite literally taking her breath away. "Shit, fuck Roman, wait, wait," she pleads, reaching behind to push his thigh and forcing him to halt his movements.

"Too much?" he asks, laughing as he presses gentle kisses along her spine, feeling her body shiver from the contact. "That's what you get when your pussy is so good. You was talkin' all that shit earlier, best believe I ain't lettin' up, baby girl. Who owns who now, huh," he says, swatting her ass and starting again.

"You're a cocky asshole," she moans shakily, defiance swirling in her lust-filled gaze.

Roman's smirk is diabolical and panty-wetting. "And don't you forget it. Now shut up and take this dick."

Joy winces as his hand curves around her throat, the other clutching her lower hip as he fucks her prone body into the sofa. She clings to the cushions and her sanity with everything she has, tears filling her eyes as he pummels her with hurried, lethal thrusts, making her ass jiggle and her pussy drip some more as she's dragged dangerously close to the precipice. He pushes the arch out of her back and flips her around, sliding right back inside before she can regain her bearings and dropping his body weight on her. His intoxicating cologne surrounds her as their mouths crush together in a hungry, toe-curling kiss. Incoherent moans leave them both as he rolls his hips against hers, nestling his dick right there, eking a sob out of her as she falls apart again.

"Aww, f-f-fuuuck..."

"I know baby, I know it feels so good," He kisses away her tears and then her cheek, his fingers curling over her breast in a light squeeze which in turn squeezes her walls around his pounding thrusts. "Mmm, this pussy so tight and wet. Keep comin' for me, baby, gimme all that nut."

His sultry command sends another wave of pleasure crashing into her like one of his trademark Spears, and her jaw drops from the force of her orgasm, her pussy clenching painfully around his dick. Her pitiful moans that she struggles to muffle against his tattooed shoulder are music to the Tribal Chief's ears as his own body is moments away from the same fate.

"Shit," he groans gruffly, shuddering breaths tearing from his lungs as his balls tighten and his strokes become sloppier, heavier, "Fuck, I'm boutta buss..."

Joy lifts her left leg up and rests it on his shoulder, digging her other heel in his lower back to pull him in deeper and finally take him down. She runs her hands all over his sides, his back, his ass, her moans mingling with his as his hips snap harder and faster. Their foreheads touch, and a devilish smile forms on her face at the helplessness in his glazed eyes, licking his lips in between throaty gasps of pleasure. She has him right where she wants him. "There you go baby, pound that fuckin' pussy, fill it up," she coaxes.

"Unhhh, shit," Roman's whines disintegrate into a whimpering cry as his big body trembles viscerally against her own. Joy's toes curl as he lodges his dick all the way inside her, making her feel each throbbing spurt of his warm seed spilling generously in her pussy. She never minds him coming inside her; her IUD is always in place, mainly for his benefit and hers. His deep, sexy grunts as he rides out his nut with stuttered ruts of his hips wash over her, leaving her breathless and weak-kneed for him.

Kissing her leg and letting it down, Roman finally pulls his dick out with a hiss and strokes out the rest of his cum onto her softened, battered pussy lips. Joy stares dazedly at the ceiling, her body humming from the last vestiges of her orgasm and a touch of pain. She feels his big arms slide around her waist and draw her in so their lips meet, savoring their collective taste with their tongues as they bask in the afterglow. He takes her arms and winds them around his neck before picking her up, transferring her from the sofa to the king-sized bed a couple of feet away. He lays her carefully on the bed and sits at the edge, watching her snuggle against the soft sheets and pillows with a satisfied sigh. The outdoor lights peeking through the window cast a glittery shadow over her nude body, making her look even more beautiful. And speaking of beautiful...

"I got you something," he announces, taking a small gift box labeled Van Cleef & Arpels sat on the nightstand and handing it to her.

"What's this?" she questions, slowly sitting up.

"Just a lil' sumn I thought you'd like," he simply shrugs. "Open it."

Eyeing him suspiciously, she unties the ribbon at the top of the box and removes the lid. Nestled in navy-blue velvet are an eighteen-carat yellow-gold Alhambra bracelet and matching earrings. She wishes she disliked the warmth that blooms inside her at the sweet gesture. She meets his eyes, noting his cocked eyebrow and cocky smirk as he gauges her reaction.

"This a good enough apology for you?" he asks.

Joy smiles gratefully and kisses his lips. "They're beautiful. But I keep telling you, you don't have to buy me anything," she says.

"Well, I want to. Sue me." He goes quiet for a few seconds, contemplating his next words. "You got tickets to the SuperBowl, right? Let's go together. We can hang out in my skybox."

"And have people talk about us? We got reputations to uphold. And what about Venita?"

"She'll be there. She's still clueless about us. And I told you, ain't nobody gon' say shit. Between your lawyer and mine, all them NDAs are water-tight." When he speaks again, his voice is much softer. "I just miss spending time with you. I miss when we weren't at each other's throats like we are these days."

"That's only cuz you make my job harder, Reigns," she points out, scooting over when he rolls into the bed and sits up against the headboard next to her.

"And you, mine. But despite all of that, I would do anything for you. You know that, right? That's why I agreed to that damn match. For you," he adds, biting his lip as he caresses her chin and gazes tenderly at her. Joy feels her heart flutter as his chocolate-colored eyes gleam with that familiar, intense passion that the two of them have been sharing for almost four years now...

"You're so cute when you get all soft and sweet on me, champ," she smiles, leaning in for another kiss that lingers pleasantly this time. It's little moments like these that try to con her, even to this day, that their affair has veered towards the romantic side. She thanks the cynical businesswoman in her for swiftly kicking that childish notion to the curb every time the delusion attempts to rear its ugly head.

Their embrace is interrupted by the grating sound of his phone vibrating, forcing him to pull away from her with a tired sigh. On the nightstand, a text message with Venita's name lights up his phone screen.

Countin the minutes till I touch down in Vegas 🥺😍 Can't wait to see you again! Love you Baby Boo 😘

"Aww, poor baby," Joy's giggle is dark and mocking as she looks over Roman's shoulder. Snatching the phone out of his hand, she opens up the message and begins typing.

"Don't start no shit, now," he sighs, but makes no move to stop whatever havoc she's causing through his device.

"Relax, Baby Boo," she teases, pressing Send and holding his phone up to his face to show him her response.

I'm waiting for you babe. Can't wait to see you 😍 Love you sm.

"See? I was nice," she says, putting away his phone and climbing on top of his big body.

Roman rolls his eyes and runs his hands along her thighs. "I guess I should thank you, then?"

"Oh, no need to thank me. I'm just being a good, caring boss," she replies, bending to kiss his lips, trailing her tongue along his bearded jawline and tasting her dried juices. "You're my star employee, so it's important that I always give you what you need. And I always give it to you, don't I?"

Roman groans into her mouth as she kisses him harder, her dainty fingers stroking his dick which immediately pulses in her grasp as though it hasn't been touched all day. "Yeah, you do," he rasps, his body heating up as she starts to descend on him. "Oh shit, baby, you feelin' generous tonight..."

"Mmm, more like selfish..." She sits all the way down with a gasp, making both their hearts race with each twitch of his cock inside her. "Cuz I want that dick again, and I'm taking it..."

She is already moving, hunched over him, her titties in his face, sucking them both back into that sensual place of pleasure they like to visit together. He answers to her, in more ways than one, and he won't have it any other way. "Anything you want, boss. Anything you want," the Tribal Chief croaks out, allowing himself to sit back and enjoy the ride, quite literally.

THE END

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

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#roman reigns #wwe #roman reigns fanfiction #roman reigns smut #the bloodline #smackdown #roman reigns fanfic #roman reigns imagines #roman reigns x black reader #roman reigns x black oc #roman reigns x oc #wrestlemania

[rosemaryfollows]

Not sure if you do NSFW, but can I request something with Adam? Like yandere toxic Adam who got jealous, some NSFW if you're feeling generous?

𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘏𝘰𝘭𝘺 𝘓𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵

|| synopsis : after embarrassing Adam, he decided you needed to learn a lesson ||

|| word count : 2.7k ||

[ the long awaited part two of Witness! please read Witness first for this one to make sense at the start! I hope that this meets your expectations dear readers and thank you, dear anon, for the request! <3 And as usual for my NSFW posts, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT thank you and good day X3c ]

[ requests are open as per usual! ]

[ cw: Adam being Adam, possessive behavior, angel!reader, NSFW below the cut, BARELY CONSENT, orgasm denial, tried to keep the reader as GN as best as i could :( , barely proofread </3 ]

Adam had finally finished icing your wrist, well, to his standards anyways. He stayed on his knees in front of you, looking up at you. His hands found their way into your hips, squeezing the flesh in such a loving manner. Your heart fluttered inside your chest, your wings fluttering in reply. Both of your hands had nestled in his hair, playing with the thick strands while you looked down at him, a smile very evident. Your heart was pulsing in your chest so heavy you feared for your ribs. Something about the moment felt so serene. Almost as if you were exactly where you were supposed to be, finding heaven in his eyes.

He stood slowly, placing a small kiss on your cheek as he towered over you again, his hands gripping your shoulders rather tightly. Still, he smiled down at you and eventually brought a hand up to trace your cheek with a finger. Like a fool, you had let your eyes close in the pure bliss surrounding the moment. In the short time you had been vulnerable, you felt a sharp hit land against your cheek, the force enough to make you stumble back. Both of your hands raced to hold your cheek, eyes opening with tears threatening to spill out as you now looked at the man who loomed above you.

"So that's how it's going to fuckin' be? You just get to, to come in and be all lovely and dovey with me, like some fucking, whore, only when we're alone?! Who, the fuck, do you think you are? I fucking own you, you stupid bitch." Adam started, taking a step closer to you, taking hold of your halo, tugging you forward a bit by it. A small cry fell past your lips as you looked up at him, little tears burning down your cheeks. "Adam that's not.. I didn't mean--" You started to speak, voice small and meek. Your hands pressed against his chest, trying to put space between the two of you again. He let out a loud, hearty laugh as he let your halo go, his hands getting thrown in the air.

"What bitch?! You didn't mean to what? It's some other guy isn't it? I fuckin' knew you were a damn slut. If it's that prick Lucifer--" He paused, taking a deep breath, running his hands down his face in frustration. "I swear to Satan I will fucking end you." He swallowed down more, unnerving laughter, you had stepped away from him again, now having a few feet between the two of you. You turned your back to him, looking out over the clouds, your wings puffing out in pure fear. "Oh what? You get a little fucking hurt and now you get to leave me? That's not how this works, tits." He growls out what he considered an affectionate nickname, taking a quick step towards you, grabbing both of your wings at the base, taking you to the ground. Your face made an almost sickening noise as it collided with the floor, your arms trying to catch yourself, but Adams' weight added on top of you was making it difficult. "I will tear these fucking wings off of you and keep you up here, to be a good little wife for me, unless you learn your lesson."

His knee had your back pinned in place, his grip tightening on your wings. Your heart beat was all you heard as a few gold spots appeared on the floor below your face, your nose leaking blood. Your heart seemed to stop as you felt him start to move down to the base of your wings, something mumbled how you were a fat bitch. You knew if you even thought about escape he would pull at them, potentially tearing them clean off. "Adam.. Please.. Please think about this..." Your voice was small, shaking as you tried to look over your shoulder at him. Trying to get him off of you, you looked around quickly, your thoughts racing wild. "We can, y'know.. but not... not on the floor." Was all you could muster, your arms still trying to push yourself up slightly. The innocence of your request made his angered mumbling pause for a moment.

As if he still had a pinch of good in his heart, he let out a grumpy sigh, standing up off of you, tugging you up off the floor by your wing. This action made you yelp, "Fine. Only because you won't be able to clean the floor when I'm done fucking you." His voice was low, almost primal as he dragged you further into what he called home. It was a lovely place, it was a shame he ruined it with all of his, Adam-ness. You let out small whimpers as he pulled you through the corridors by your all too sensitive wing. Tears slid down your cheeks as you followed him only half-heartedly. "Adam, please.. We don't have to do this again.." You tried, but your words only made him tug harder on the base of your wing. "Shut the fuck up.. You fucking.. You brought this upon yourself, by being such a whore! I've never made a mistake in my fuckin' life, you're the only reason this shit is happening. Fuckin', Christ."

You let out a small, almost desperate whine, a silent prayer went through your head, the sudden light coming through a window made you have a false hope, your prayer for a savior had been answered! But as cruel as the mistress of fate was, it was just the sun, shining happily into the dark house. You turned your head to look at Adam, watching him open his door and shoving you into the room. This was the room you had offered your whole self to him in, the room where he confessed he loved you, the room you grew to love being in over time. "Get on the bed already, I'm not fucking waiting around. And you better not be fucking wearing anything." Adam would command, moving to the large windows in his room and opening the curtains, letting the sun glare in and reflect off of the white sheets and floors. This made you squint as you slowly shrugged off your clothes, crawling into the fairly large and soft bed.

He was a terrible man, you knew that, but when he ordered you about you felt your heart flutter inside your chest. The cold air in the room hugged your skin, making goosebumps pop up and down your skin, causing your wings to flutter. At the sound, he turned around and offered you a smile, it seemed warm, inviting almost. "There's my pretty fuckin' slut." He's mumble, crawling into the bed, not bothering to shed any of his layers as his hands run up your arms and his head dips down to leave a trail of gentle kisses on your neck. Your head was spinning. His words and actions were cruel, but his touch was just so soft, like he was hiding this side of him under layers and layers of constant betrayal and heartbreak.

That's what you wanted to think anyway.

Adam, was none of the kind words you described him as, he was unjust, a monster. Dare you even say a sinner. Here he was, giving you sweet and gentle kisses down your sternum, his left hand teasingly pinching and pulling at one of your nipples while his mouth suctioned to the other. But his words ran through your mind while you tried to remain composed. Still, your body betrayed the mind, your soft flesh reacting to every move he made. Your lower body shook in slight anticipation, hands trembling as you held onto his frame. "Adam.." You'd mumble out, eyes glazing over as you tried to look at him. He mumbled something that you didn’t quite catch against your chest, his free hand running through your feathers, causing your wings to twitch and flare excitedly.

You let yourself relax finally, leaning into his touch. "Oh.. God.." You'd mumble, your eyes closing as you moved your hands to hold tight to his shoulder. "Mmm, name's Adam, but that works.." He'd chuckle against your skin, nipping lightly at you with his teeth. Your face turned a furious shade of red as you shook your head slightly, "Oh! You know what I.. what I meant.." Your voice was shaking as your spoke, your body twitching at every scrape of his teeth. Finally, as if answering your prayer, the hand that was preoccupying the other side of your chest slid down your midsection, leaving a trail of little hairs standing in its wake. His hand dipped down between your thighs, another laugh leaving him. "Damn babe, I toss ya around and call you names and you're fucking sopping! That's so pathetic.. and adorable." He hums and makes sure to spread some of your juices onto his hand, slowly teasing your most sensitive area.

You felt your thighs twitch as his touch, trying your hardest to close them around his hand as he teased and played with you. The softest of moans left your lips as he toyed with you, making him hum in delight, "Geez babe, I think this gets better ever time I fuck you, but of course it does, I'm fucking Adam. I'm the best dick you'll ever fuckin' get." He let out a laugh as he pulled back and looked over your face, now supporting himself up with his free hand. Finally with your wings left alone, they fluffed out completely and fluttered behind you, moving in time with your heavily beating heart. This made Adam laugh softly, still moving his hand ever so teasingly slow. "God, you're so fucking adorable. It's so pathetic how cute and whiny you are." Adam moved his hand to your hip, making you gasp softly at the lack of attention. "Hnmmm, Adam!" You'd whine, though in seconds he had you flipped over onto your stomach, positioning himself behind you as he pulled your hips up into his, letting you feel his erection against your ass.

"Tell me how much you want this dick, the original, tell me how much you fucking need my cock." He groans, rutting his hips against your soft skin. You let out needy little whimpers and whines, pushing back against him, trying to get any sort of friction. “Ohhhh..” You mumbled softly, pulling one of his pillows to your face and hiding away in it, needy tears filling your eyes, “I need it, Adam.. I need you, terribly.” Your voice was small, barely above a whisper, Adam would give a little click of his tongue, “What was that, babes? I didn’t quite,” He paused, a solid smack landing against the back of your thigh, a bright red hand print showing up rather quick, “Diiiidn’t quite catch that!” He would let out this cruel laugh, his hands moving up to play and knead the flesh on your ass. This made your stomach do flips, your thighs shaking now after their sudden attention, “I need you! Terribly! Please Adam, please, oh god please..” Your voice would start to tremble nearing the end of your sentence, your voice dying down as small and desperate sobs bubbled out of your chest.

Adam would sigh and smile down at you, his hand sliding down your back and trailing over the base of your wings again, making you shiver and arch your back. At the sound of a zipper and cloth shuffling behind you, a grin spread across your face as you happily perked up your behind in wait. This made Adam laugh again, “Of course only my fuckin’ dick could make someone this ‘innocent’ act so shameless, nothing is better than the fuckin’ original!” He boasted, both of his hands again resting on your hips, letting you feel his hot length rest against your ass, this made your squirm as you tried to push him inside with little to no success. After watching you try for a few seconds, he decided to help, taking his cock into his hands and stuffing his favorite hole nice and full with little to no prep. His sudden action brought a long and drawn out yelp from you, your body twitching underneath him as he gave his own groan, "Fuckin, hell babe, just as tight as last time. You just never get old.. That's why you're all mine, mine to fuck, mine to use.. Whenever I fucking want, isn't that right? Fuckin-" He blabbered on like that for a while, massaging around your entrance while he spoke, occasionally giving a thrust or two, making you jolt forward and make those sweet sounds.

"Adam, please.." You'd interrupt his rant about how nice you felt around him, how much he loved you and how much he loved fucking you. He peered down at you, seemingly forgetting that you two were in the middle of having sex. "Oh yeah, fuck sorry babe." He would try and laugh it off, leaning down and placing a kiss on the nape of your neck, something he decided was more affectionate than anywhere else. A feeling of relief washed over you at his change in behavior, not wishing for him to revert back to his arrogant and selfish ways. “You’re hot as fuck yknow that? It’s fucking stupid how hot you are.” He would mumble, finally starting to thrust with a steady pace instead of whenever he felt like he wanted to.

It was almost relentless compared to the lackluster performance before you spoke up, his hips almost constantly meeting yours, loud and unfiltered whines and moans spilling out of your mouth. Adam grins to himself as he reached forward, taking your halo into his hands and tugging it slightly so you’d have to look up from the safety of his now tear and drool stained pillow. “That’s it, cunt. Let everyone in heaven know how good this dick is, no one gives it to you better than I do.” Your face would flush at his words, your hands gripping onto the pillow as if you’d fall from heaven if you let go. You felt the familiar knot in your stomach start to tighten, crying out his name rather pathetically while he continued his almost torturous pace.

Adam felt your walls clench and pulse around his length, a cocky grin spreading across his face at the familiar feeling, "Close already? God damn how worked up were you? Maybe I should pull at you a little more often huh? Fuckin hell babe-" He let your halo go, your head falling right back into the pillow as your back arched in need. "Adam, oh fuckfuckfuck, Adam please 'm gonna, need't come, please oh god," You blabber breathlessly, pushing your hips back into him, trying to pull him to the same edge you were at. Adam was quick to pull out of you and listen to your pathetic little cries and pleads for him to come back and let you finish. The grin on his face never left as he pumped his hand around his cock for a minute longer, his seed spurting out onto your ass and back. The warm feeling on your skin made your whip your head around to look at him, and-

This asshole was getting off the bed and redressing himself, that shiteating grin never leaving his face as he watched you sit up and practically crawl to the edge of the bed, tears spilling down your cheeks, "Adam? Wha-? Where are you going?" You'd ask, your voice as sweet as can be, your jello like limbs barely holding your body up on their own. "Ha! Sorry babe, duty calls, toooootes forgot about this thing with Sera! But hey!" He moved to you and holds your face up in his hands, "Maybe you'll learn your fucking lesson for once. Be here when I get back unless you don't want this dick for a month. And I can go get plenty of puss besides you, don't fucking forget that babes." He grins and poked your nose with a small 'boop', plopping you back down on the bed before just leaving the room. From across the house you could hear a distant, 'Love ya tits! Can't wait to see whatcha make for dinner!'

What an asshole.

[ taglist for those asking for more adam &lt;3 : @cyberp-1-nk @miss-menhera ]

|| note: ​🇮​​🇫​ ​🇾​​🇴​​🇺​ ​🇱​​🇮​​🇰​​🇪​ ​🇲​​🇾​ ​🇨​​🇴​​🇳​​🇹​​🇪​​🇳​​🇹​, ​🇧​​🇪​ ​🇸​​🇺​​🇷​​🇪​ ​🇹​​🇴​ ​🇱​​🇮​​🇰​​🇪​ ​🇦​​🇳​​🇩​ ​🇷​​🇪​​🇧​​🇱​​🇴​​🇬​!! <3 ||

#rosemaryfollows #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #adam hazbin hotel #adam x reader #adam x reader hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel adam #alastor #husker hazbin hotel #alastor x reader #husker x reader #hazbin husk #alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin lucifer #hellaverse #hazbin hotel 2024 #hazbin hotel x y/n

[spitdrunken]

i am absolutely insane about your headcanons with the vee's, my mind is so full now... this is exactly what i was hoping to find when searching through the hazbin x reader tag after watching the episodes 👁️🙏🏻 please i'm so!! the being a writer for the vee's imagine is such a good idea, val and his.. comment especially got to me..

also, for your consideration:

Val — or all of the Vee's, really —, but, in the beginning, he's really not convinced about the quality of your dialogues, despite all the lines he's read (or, well, has had Vox read to him), so naturally you have to read your previous stories out loud to him, cheeks flushing and squirming when it gets to particularly graphic scenes and his gaze on you is so very heavy, smoke caressing your jaw while you stumble over your words.. It's worse if you've written about them and a character who resembles you, and Val's smile widens when you skip from story to story, mentioning the character — definitely not you — sucking Vox off, bending over willingly for Val and begging for Velvette to touch her, or even take all three of them at once, greedy...

Also the. love potions Velvette makes have me feeling things.. Her or Vox but they might end up putting a drop or four into your glass — purely accidentally, of course! —, and...

this is terrible.. my mind is too full now... i might have to post writing for hazbin now and it is your fault alone.. (affectionate; truly, I've enjoyed your thoughts so very much!! thank you for sharing!)

I'm glad you enjoyed it so much :D!! I had an absolute blast writing it myself, and I've been thinking about it lots!! Your ask made it even Worse (/pos) and I simply had to write more!! Please please please let me know if you write something for Hazbin, I can tell from your ask already that it'll be wonderful! And if you ever wanna chat about these guys, feel free to message me again, haha.

Notes: power imbalance, sexual harassment, heavily dubious/noncon due to love potion usage.

The fact Vox even bothers at all to take the time to sit Valentino down and read to him is already a show of your quality— He really wouldn’t go through wrangling him like that for just anyone, especially not with Val getting a bit pissy when being reminded your works were being compared to his. He needs to be told that, obviously, Val, some mere written words are never going to compare, especially not in earnings, to his creations. This placates Valentino. But all Vox gets for his efforts are a lazy flick of one of Valentino’s four wrists, his eyes not even looking at him. “Look, I still think it fucking sucks. But if you wanna hire them so badly, whatever. I’ve got better shit to do than listen to daddy’s horny story-time.” Suffice it to say, he becomes a lot more… Amiable (poor you) once you’re actually working there, and he has a face to attach to the stories. He can tell upon first glance that you’re one of those pathetic little hermits, too scared to leave your own shitty apartment, barely scraping by— He’s recruited plenty of those types as whores, after all. So easily pushed around that it shouldn’t give him nearly as much satisfaction as it does.

When Valentino practically demands you join him in his room and read your previous work to him, you sputter out protests, heart skipping a beat. Every employee in the company has something bad to say about this man, and so he’s about the last person you want to be caught alone in a room with. Especially not his bedroom.

“Ah, sir, I’m not really sure—“ But he’s already wrapping one of his arms around your shoulders, pulling you flush against his side as he drags you through the halls. The first thing that strikes you is how different the texture of coat is than you were expecting. It doesn’t even feel like anything at all. “Oh, sweetheart, call me Valentino. No need to be so unfamiliar with each other.” He practically purrs, a single finger tracing up the contours of your chest. “I feel like we’re going to get quite familiar.” If all the alarms weren’t ringing in your head before, they most definitely are now. But there’s nothing you can do. His grip on you is tight and, underneath his red coat, you can feel the hard metal of a pistol pressing against you.

He takes you to his room, walls covered with posters featuring himself, and you hardly have the time to look around before he sits you down on one of his red couches, still caught underneath one of his arms. It’s hard to think, much less speak, as Valentino starts to prod you to pull out your phone and start reading. “No need to be shy. You’re such an artista, aren’t you? Don’t keep me waiting.” It’s easy, at first. When the scene hasn’t grown explicit yet, and you can pretend you’re only reading the text out loud to yourself like you always do, making sure the sentences sound right. But Valentino makes it hard for you to distract yourself entirely. He rubs circles on the skin of your thigh, and the smoke from his pipe has long since been the only thing you can smell. The red smoke makes your head a little hazier, tongue a little looser— Though that all just might be because you’re not getting enough oxygen. Your every muscle is tense and, you think, this is what being a prey animal must feel like. The first time you stutter out the word ‘cock’, Valentino barks out a laugh, loud and sudden, entirely contrasting with the sultry demeanour he’s been putting on the whole time. You jump, gaze flickering from the screen to his face, before continuing. It gets worse when you realise exactly what story you’re reading out loud to him, one of the ones you’d never even posted anywhere, so utterly self-indulgent and poorly thought out that you regret it with every ounce of your being. (Unbeknownst to you, Vox has already read every draft you’ve ever typed up, but that’s neither here nor there.)

“Sorry, can I maybe, um, read a different one?” You practically squeak out. “I realised I have some better drafts, and…” “No,” Valentino shuts you down, tone temporarily harsh. “Don’t get too fucking cocky now, you’re already taking up enough time as it is. Shit’s about to get interesting, finally.” He’s saying all of this as if he wasn’t the one to drag you there in the first place.

So you trudge onward, reading as fast as you possible can, just trying to tough it out. As you read about a scared, unaccomplished demonic main character catching the eye of a trio of some of the most famous demons in town—through entirely unrealistic circumstances—you can see his grin grow wider from the corner of your eye. His nails dig into the flesh of your thigh, the smoke surrounding your face turning to caress your cheeks.

“So, let me gets this straight… You wrote about a trio of powerful demons with matching names, taking turns fucking an absolute nobody silly. One of them’s a pimp, the other a fashion designer, and the other a business man.” Valentino doesn’t give you the chance to respond. “Greedy little slut. You even chose this one specifically to read out to me, huh? Seems I got you all wrong,” he hisses out. “This must be a dream come true for you, isn’t it?”

Let’s just say that you got enough ‘material’ to write another four or so stories, just from that line alone.

----- A drop of love potion, and models always behave the absolute best, or so Velvette thinks! (As long as you don’t put in too much. It’s very hard to take good pictures when the girls keep trying to kiss you.) No bitching, no whining, only an easy to pose, cute demon to work with. And if she dresses you up in clothes that reveal more than they obscure, purely for her own enjoyment and usage, who’s going to blame her?

Certainly not you. You won’t remember a single damn thing. Not even the parts where you babble on about how pretty and gorgeous and cool she is, and how you’ve admired her for so long— All things she’s heard a million times before. Normally, she wouldn’t care less about it, but such words coming from someone with only a drop of her potion in her system means they’re all the absolute truth. She thinks it’s almost cute when it’s coming from you, really. ------------ Vox, on the other hand, would be more likely to use his hypnosis on you than a love potion. Just to have a few minutes in the middle of a meeting where you’re practically putty in his hands, all of your usual anxiety and shame having slid right off of your shoulders. He doesn’t feel any guilt about it whatsoever. Having read all of your works, he finds it safe to say that this is the exact kind of scenario you would enjoy…

And even if you didn’t, he still would. He gets a bit of a thrill out of the loopy, relaxed smile on your face as you nuzzles your cheeks against his arm, professing all of the thoughts you had about him before working at VoxTech, and the ones you still have today. It’s during one of these exact moments, that he’d likely find out that Valentino had fucked you already, something he hadn’t found necessary to mention. They’ll have a bit of a discussion about that later!

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel #valentino x reader #vox x reader #velvette x reader #cw.drugging #cw.noncon #cw.dubcon

[familyvideostevie]

hey! do you think you could do a steve x reader fic that's grumpy x sunshine? ty in advance!

i have truly had this in my inbox for over a year, so i am so very sorry for hoarding it. i've twisted it a little -- here we've got what happens when you, usually the sunshine to steve's grumpy, has a bit of a bad day yourself. hope you like! sunshine!reader and grumpy!steve on a day when you're the grumpy one | fluff, 1.2k

Steve notices immediately. It's kind of weird, actually. He leans heavily against your door as he shuts it behind him, toeing off his shoes. The plastic of the takeout bags digs into his hands a little but he's just glad to be here, glad to finally see you after a long day. He likes your place better than his and he likes you best of all.

But something is off. There's no music, no familiar smell of that beachy candle he bought you burning. Are you napping? It's possible, but you sounded pretty excited when you called him at lunch asking him to come for dinner. And Steve, sue him, kind of expected you to greet him.

It's kind of an asshole thought, he can admit that, but you always do. You're always nothing short of thrilled to see him, your boyfriend, like he's been away for years rather than a day of work. You throw your arms around him and sing-song his name and kiss him sloppily because you're smiling so wide. Your love for him is infectious and he feels it all the way to his bones.

Because he's not exactly known for being a nice guy, right? Sure, he's not like, a jackass, not anymore, but he's not exactly cheery all the time. He's quieter than he was, a little more serious. It just comes with the territory. Getting older, dealing with shit. God knows he's dealt with a lot of shit.

But you? You're fucking sunshine. There's no other way to put it. He has no idea where you get your endless smiles for him, the laughter that bubbles out of you like sheer goodness personified. And you're with him. You love him.

Steve doesn't get it but hey, he's not going to complain.

So, something has to be wrong. "It's me!" he calls into the apartment. "Steve," he tacks on a bit lamely, hoping it'll make you laugh.

"On the couch," you call back. You don't sound sick or anything so that's not it. He pops into the kitchen to set down your dinner before shucking off his jacket and padding to the living room. When he spots you something in his chest loosens. God, he's so gone for you.

"Hey," he says lightly.

You look up at him from your book with a small smile but it's dimmer than he expects. "Hi, Steve," you say. You're pressed against the arm of the sofa with your legs stretched out, a book in your lap. You reach for him with one hand over the back of the couch. "Did you bring dinner?"

"Sure did," he says. He twines his fingers with yours and leans over to press his lips to your forehead. You sigh. "Nah, screw it," he says. "I'm coming over."

You know what he's going to do. "Be careful --" you try to say but he's already hoisting himself over and onto the couch. You pull your legs to your chest just in time as he bounces on the cushions a little bit.

Steve likes to be close to you. Everyone gives him shit for it when you're out, how he's always on you so much. Arm around your shoulder, thigh pressed to yours at the table. Hand in your pocket or holding yours. You've told him you like it, too, that it's grounding, so that's what he's aiming for. You shove your socked toes under his thigh and he wraps a hand around your ankle.

Time to see what the hell is going on with you. "So," he says. "Who do I need to beat up?"

You look moderately amused. "What do you mean by that, Steve?"

He reaches for you with his free hand. You've got a crease between your brows and he smooths it with his thumb. "You seem...down."

You hug yourself with your arms and sink deeper into the couch and lose his gaze. "Do I?" you say softly. "Sorry."

"Woah," Steve rushes to say. "Woah, no, hey, don't apologize. I just want to see what's wrong."

You say no more. His thumb strokes your ankle lightly and he wonders what the hell he's going to do to make you feel better. He's not very good at this part. You're always the one to bring him out of bad moods, to remind him of all the good stuff he's got going on. He can do this for you.

Steve gently pulls the book from your lap, folding the corner of the page before he puts it on the table.

"I was reading that," you say lightly.

"Yeah, well," he says. "You know I need attention to survive." You huff a laugh. Okay, progress.

Steve reaches for your face again. He lets go of your ankle this time so he can cup your cheek, your knees pressing into his chest a little. It's not a great angle but he can work with it.

"Baby," he says. It's your favorite thing he calls you other than your name since he saves it for moments like this -- when it's just the two of you. "Can you tell me what's wrong? So I can help?"

Your eyes shut and you lean into his palm. You take a deep breath and it shudders a little in your chest.

"I don't know, Steve," you whisper. "I know I'm usually so -- so -- happy, but I just got kind of sad this afternoon." You pull the words from yourself like a confession and Steve hates it. He hates how you sound disappointed in yourself.

"That's okay," he says. "Christ, that's more than okay. You can feel however you want. I mean, come on, you know I'm grumpy basically all the time." He hopes yet again it will make you laugh but he fails miserably as you sniffle. "Okay, come here."

You pull your feet from under his thigh and he hauls your legs over his lap so he can give you a real hug. He can feel your nose in his neck as you inhale deeply. He rubs his palm up and down your spine. He's had bad days, too. Hell, he has lots of them. It just happens, he just never realized it could happen to you, too.

"So, and correct me if I'm wrong here because you know me, but what I'm hearing is you just feel like shit and there's not much more to it."

You nod into his embrace. "That's about right."

"What can I do ?" You pull back at his question and give him a real smile, brighter than anything in the room.

"Just this," you say. "I'm sure it'll go away." Your fingers trace the line of his nose, his chin.

"It's okay if it doesn't," Steve reminds you. You tell him the same thing all the time. "Seriously. I know we have this whole dynamic or whatever but you can feel like shit forever, if you want. I hope you don't, obviously, but I'll take care of you if --"

You press your fingers over his mouth. "It's okay, Steve," you say. "I'll be fine. But I know you would."

Your own lips replace your fingers and you kiss him sweetly. He isn't ashamed to say he melts into it a little. He wanted to kiss you the second he walked in the door.

He's about to turn this into something a little less sweet when your stomach grumbles between you and you both pull back with a laugh. "Okay," he says. "Well, that I can fix."

thank you for reading <3 reblog, send feedback, general masterlist here!

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington fanfiction

[littledemondani]

Hello first time here at your page

I am a sucker for revenge, so how about we give to Fuckboy Eddie a good taste of his own medicine, i want to make this bitch cry a little

Does this makes me evil ?

warnings: 18+ mdni, brief alcohol use, mentions of public sex, fuckboy!eddie, fem!reader, no use of y/n, possessiveness, slight angst, fwb to lovers

it’s not evil at all! he deserves to cry.

//

you’ve teased him about it relentlessly for weeks now. every time you bring up your coworker, josh, and how he’s the only reason you’re able to get through the agonizing 8 hours of work at your current workplace, eddie’s brows pinch and his tone gets snappy.

“awww, you’re jealous,” you’d say, looking at him with a slight pout.

“not even close, sweetheart,” he’d always reply back, shaking his head.

“whatever you say, munson.”

he’d then roll his eyes and look anywhere else but at you.

tonight, though, tonight he realizes he’s been full of shit the entire time.

the two of you are at a bar in downtown indianapolis, the same bar you met him at a little over a year ago, and you’re currently dancing with some dude.

eddie watches as you sway your hips to the beat of whatever hit pop song is blaring through the speakers. mystery guy trails his left hand down your front and over your abdomen. you make no efforts to stop him as he inches closer to your cunt. he leans down and whispers something in your ear, you nod along, then he takes your hand and leads you towards the back of the bar where the restrooms are.

eddie feels nothing but rage. he tells himself he should go after you, because he knows exactly where you’re headed and what you’re off to do. he’s done that same move more times than he can count, not just with you, but other girls, too. hell, he did it a few days ago after one of his gigs. but he knows deep down he can’t go barging into the restroom and beat that guy’s ass. the two of you aren’t dating. you’re not even exclusive to each other. he’d be going back on the conditions he set himself. so, he sits on the barstool, downing the rest of his beer and then starting on another.

twenty minutes later and you come out of the restroom, your lipstick smeared a little, hair slightly mussed up, and mystery guy’s cum dripping from your cunt onto your panties. you search the bar for eddie, expecting to find him with another girl but surprised to see him standing against a wall by himself. his arms are crossed against his chest.

“there you are,” you smile as you walk up to him. “i looked everywhere for you.”

he takes you in, his brown eyes scanning you up and down before he scoffs. “yeah, i’m sure you did.”

you frown at that, but decide not to push it.

“ready to go?” you ask instead.

he nods and leads the way out of the bar into the cool, november night.

it’s silent on the walk to where his van is parked, and you’re starting to wonder what the hell is up.

“are you mad at me or something?” you blurt out.

“what? why would i be mad at you?” he questions, though his tone isn’t helping him in any way.

“well, i don’t know,” you shrug, stopping just before you reach his van. “that’s why i asked you.”

he sighs deeply, almost as if he’s annoyed you’re even asking in the first place. he’s not annoyed with you. he’s annoyed with himself for feeling the way he does about you and not doing anything about it.

“i’m not mad at you,” he finally says, looking over at you. “i-i just —. forget it.” he opens the passenger door to his van and motions for you to get in.

you know exactly what he’s upset about. you could tell from the moment you walked up to him. you saw him eyeing you dancing with mystery guy and watching you leave to the restroom with him. you saw him glancing at you in your post-sex state.

“you know,” you say as you step closer to him. “you’re not the only one who can have fun, eddie. you fuck different girls all the time and i just ‘have to’ suck it up because ‘you know what this is.’ but when i decide to have some fun for myself, you get mad and treat me like this?”

you’re glancing up at him, nostrils flaring with anger and eyes glaring daggers. eddie opens his mouth to say something but you’re quick to interrupt him.

“if you’re mad that i fucked some random dude in there then i have some news for you. you know what the fuck this is, eddie,” you throw his own words back at him. “if you want things to be different then just fucking say s—.”

eddie cuts you off with his lips, pinning you up against the door of the van. you deepen the kiss, your hand finding purchase in his hair as you tug harshly.

“you’re mine,” he groans against your lips. “all of you. every fucking inch of you.”

“and you?” you ask, breaking the kiss to glance up at him through your lashes.

“yours,” he says with a slight tug at the corner of his lips. “i’m yours.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #fuckboy!eddie #eddie munson smut #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fanfic

[ttoddii]

photoshoot

pairing(s): model! bada lee x f! photographer! reader

cw: fluff, very suggestive theme, kind of bratty bada, mention of smoking, non consensual picture taken?, bad grammar, lowercase intended

summary: a photoshoot with your ex girlfriend that turn out to be more than what you expect.

a/n: @missminho why did you snitch on me so i have to rush this. and to everyone else, again, i know this is not the best, but i hope you can enjoy it as much as i have fun writing it.

your eyes close shut, your body relax as you lean back to your chair. the cigarette still burning in your hand as you groan.

"not her again" you mumble, eyes still close.

.

.

you're a photographer, your work would mostly be featured on fashion magazines. it's a hard job, a hard job that most people would not recognize enough, and the pay is poor. from dealing with the models, to talk with the staffs, it is a chaotic job that requires you to be patient.

and sadly, there are people who would just not let you do your job right.

that person, specifically, being your ex girlfriend.

"bada, you are making my job very hard right now", you said sternly, brows furrowing as your eyes staring daggers to her form, you clench your camera in your hand.

bada is wearing a long blue jean, not like it matter anyhow when she unbutton it and let you see her underwear underneath of it, her upper body is covered by nothing but a sport bra. as if that is not provoking enough, she is intentionally posing very suggestive poses. getting close up to your zone, showing her skins here and there, teasing you with her movements.

and she knows, she knows how to get you all hot, cheeks burning as you look at her every move. she have the advantage of being your ex girlfriend, and she definitely took that advantage to the fullest.

her eyes bore into yours as you feel how hot the room is, and you dryly swallow your throat, your heart skip a beat as you tore your eyes away from her gaze, your hand reach out for a bottle of water before opening it and jug the cold stream of liquid down.

"am i? i am just doing my job here you know", bada chuckle, the sound of her light hearted laugh echo through the room. her eyes find its way to yours again as she move closer to lift your chin with her pointer finger.

it is a private photoshoot session, no one else but only you two. bada's request you had heard, and fuck she knows exactly what she did with that request. getting all touchy with you, showing skins, she knows what she want, and she knows she can get it.

you bite your lower lip, "let's keep it professional bada, i have other jobs to do, and i would not waste my time here, and plus. you have no business to be this close to your photographer do you?" your eyes burning itself into bada's for a while before you turn away to get away from her touch.

her head tilted a bit, her mouth curve into a smirk "cute, you definitely did not say that the last time that we had a photoshoot together hm?" her eyes still fixate into yours, despite your attempt at getting back to work, and despite the fact that you had jugged down a bottle of water, your dry throat is killing you as bada's words sink into your head.

you truly hate how your mind would gladly show you what happened last time, how you would grab her hips as you kiss her sloppily on the table. even reminding you how hot the air was when you wrap your arms around her body. how her curves would fit so perfectly to your touch, how her voice sound like when you reach out to all the right spots.

bada had known you since you two were kids, it's not just merely a normal "work" relationship, it's much deeper than that.

you had known her from when she had her first heartbreak, known her through her raise of career, and known her through all the time she would sleep in your arms, on your bed.

all the time she would kiss you harshly to prove a point, all the time she would moan into your ears as you do all the things she like.

pleasing her.

shaking your head to remind yourself not to get tempted into bada's words. your brows furrow as you let out a loud sigh, your hand once again clench the camera.

bada is a brat.

a brat that need to be tame.

a brat that need to be put in her place.

and if you want anything out of this photoshoot, you need to do exactly that.

putting her in her place.

"fuck, bada" you mumble, harshly put the camera to the side as you stand up to switch places with bada, your hand rest on bada's shoulder as you push her down to the chair.

one of your arm wrap behind her neck as you lower down, your lips find its way to bada's as you let them collide. one of your hand hold bada's wrist in place on the chair's armrest as you proceed to pry open bada's mouth and let your tongue slide in.

your tongue teasingly circling bada's, playing the game of pushing and pulling as bada let out quiet sounds of frustration.

you enjoy this, you enjoy making bada feel helpless under your influence.

bada moan into the kiss.

and you almost lose it. almost.

as you pull away, standing up straight to look at bada's form, her mouth still agape as she breath heavily. her face tinted red, her fringes now stick to her forehead due to the sweat.

and you chuckle, loving how you can take control of bada.

"dumb baby. don't tease me if you can't handle it"

your fingers travel through the lock of her hair, gently massaging her scalp as she close her eyes. you softly planted another kiss on her forehead before you stand up straight and take your camera in your hand again.

positioning the camera so that bada is in the middle of the frame, you take a picture of her lust drunk form as her body slump back to the chair.

"maybe now you can start properly doing your job."

#bada lee #bada lee x reader #bada lee x y/n #bada x reader #lee bada #bada fluff #swf2 x reader #⟢ tod's chaos

[hrtzz]

Striker x Ftm (succubus) reader

Warnings: (SMUT, degrading, Accidental creampie, mentions of female aligned body parts, reader has top surgery but no bottom, js kinky shit to be honest.)

Reader works as a bounty hunter as a side job for quick cash grabs, He didn't realise how hard this new bounty was going to be.

You got out of your run-down car, and the thing was beat to a pump, with all the fighting and bullet holes you were surprised it was still running. You took the photo of your bounty out of your pocket, he was handsome, of course, but you weren't exactly bothered, you had a job to do, and you were going to get it done as quickly as possible. You looked ahead at the run-down bar, the big neon sign hung high, some letters flashing, the red light hanging by a wire. ‘What a dump’ you thought to yourself as you strolled inside.

You see your target at the bar sipping a whiskey by himself at the bar, the stool he was sat on was red velvet and torn. Discretely, you walk over and order a small shot before walking to a table and keeping eyes on your target as you sit down alone. He stays there for a good half an hour before finally paying his tab and leaving, as he pushes through the saloon doors you swiftly follow. He goes… behind? The bar? Unusual but you don't know what he's up to so you aimlessly follow him.

As you turn the corner an arm slams you to the wall. Fuck. You were caught.

“You think I wouldn't notice your eyes on me darlin’?” a low southern accent spoke out.

“If I did I would have been more careful” you chirp back just to hear a condescending dark chuckle come from his throat.

“Oh you're a mouthy one aren't you cutie?”

Cutie? You might be able to catch him after all. “Yeah… and?”

“I don't like the mouthy ones.” you feel a sharp blade come near your stomach. “Always the most fucking annoying to kill.”

“Who said you were killing me?”

Another chuckle pursued.

“You're in no position to be making decisions honey.” the knife grazes your abdomen and some blood is drawn in the procedure. As he drags the knife up your stomach a mark on your lower stomach is revealed and striker looks at it in curiosity before giving a smirk.

“What's this for eh?”

You didn't say a word back, he knew what it was, and you weren't going to be his little bitch to explain it to him.

“A succubus? Well, aren't you a rare one?” he grinned, his gold tooth showing

“What's it to you? Asshole” he chuckled again.

“I've never been with a succubus before, I imagine the experience is quite extraordinary.”

“I'm not an experiment.” you scowl back at him

“I mean succubus or not darling, I'd still ravage you~. How about I make you a deal?” he smirks

“What deal?”

“You spend a night with me and I won't spill yer guts for attempting to kill me.” He raised an eyebrow as his grip loosened on you.

‘What an ass’ you thought to yourself. You knew he wouldn't be able to kill you and you were pretty sure he knew it too, but hey, what's a bit of harmless fun? “Oh please big scary cowboy I'll do anything! Just don't hurt me!” you say sarcastically, gaining another deep chuckle.

“You got jokes too huh?” Striker released his grip and held out his hand for you to take, you took it and he led you to his horse lifting you onto the back of it “I'll take you someplace real nice darlin’ don't you worry!” he snapped the bridles and the horse set off.

Now you end up in a hotel room having Striker push you against the door as his long tail wraps around your thigh using his spare hand to lock the door, the other to take off your clothes. As he takes off your shirt he looks at your chest admiring your physique “damn.” he smiled.

“Like what you see?” you pant between the kisses. Striker didn't say anything and kissed you more passionately than you expected but you reciprocated it nonetheless. He ran his hands up your figure gripping your hips slightly as you pulled off his shirt. He was toned, very toned, not that you were complaining at all.

Striker runs his hand along your ass as he picks you up and takes you to the bed throwing you down and holding your wrists together. He peppers kisses down your body sucking on your nipple slightly before going down to your pants. His tail rattled excitedly “Your tail rattled? That's cute.” you giggle, striker frowned “I'm not gonna be the cute one in this situation when you're underneath me.” he chuckled as he unbuckled your pants and pulled them down. You carried on talking “Oh sure you cocky bas- FUCK!” you gripped the sheets to look down and see a cream cowboy hat, although you couldn't see what he was doing, you felt it. You could feel his tongue circle around your clit and he sucked it like his last meal making you whimper “M-move the hat…” you say shakily.

Striker stops, making you whine before taking his hat off and placing it on top of you're head “fuckin cute” he snickered and before you could say a word he went back down on you more aggressively as he gripped your thighs his claws sinking into them to hold them to place “god your pussys fucking perfect…” he mumbled making your cheeks heat up. Striker was eager to make you cum as he dipped a finger in your hole curling it slightly and then adjusting your hole by pushing a second one in making you whine as you gripped his hair the cowboy hat falling over your face making striker hiss. He wanted to see your cute little face while he was ruining you. He pushed the cowboy hat out your face and pushed his finger in deeper hitting just the right spot as his digits curled into your fleshy walls. “God if you're this tight around two fingers how are you going to take my cock?” he chuckles as he carried on getting you closer and closer to the edge.

“Striker I'm gonna-”

Then he stops.

“What the fuck I was nearly there!” you say frustrated

“I want you to beg for it.” he smiled sadistically

“Fuck yo- shit!” you winced as he rubbed your clit painfully slow smirking at you.

“What was that sugar?” he chuckled before his face went deadpanned, “Beg, bitch.”

You couldn't take it… you had to… “please let me cum, please please, please, please I'm so close, make me cum sir…”

Striker immediately picked up the pace and curled his fingers fast inside you making you tighten around his fingers sending you over the edge as you let out moan, your pussy creaming all over his fingers “Good boy… that's more like it…” he smiled as he licked up your juices off his hand.

You catch your breath as he kisses you gently moving you up the bed before unbuckling his pants. He lined himself up and looked at you smiling before roughly shoving himself in making you scream in pain and pleasure, meanwhile strikers tail rattles again as he mumbles under his breath “fuck…” he puts his arms on either side of you “god you’re tight…”

He regains himself and instantly starts going at a brutal pace pulling you into his chest against the headboard his tail rattling from time to time as he moves relentlessly “Fuck! Shit shit!” you whine as you try to come down from your last time cumming but you managed to bear it.

Striker chuckled and breathlessly spoke “You'll take down satan himself with that language” he chucked as he carried on pushing in and out of you leaving hickeys on your neck.

You didn't respond and just wrapped your arms around his neck panting into him, helplessly. Striker continued to thrust into you before slightly pulling you into him and lifting you up, allowing him more leverage to fuck you.

God damn could you feel it. As soon as he took his first thrust you felt his tip press against your G-spot, making you moan into his neck “Striker- I can't hold it honestly!” striker chuckled as he picked up the pace and circled you clit at just the right pace snarling at how tight you were getting around him “fuckin keep this up then I'll be cumming soon…” he gnawed into your neck and sucked a hickey into it as he pushed you to the limit. Finally, you feel the knot in your stomach undo as you whine and wrap your legs around him. Your pussy pulsing around Striker’s cock.

“Shit- wait darling!” striker gripped your hips tightly as he tried to push himself away from you, in means of not to cum in you but as you came your legs accidentally held him in place and he couldn't get out of it. “Fuck! sugar fuckin mo- fuckkk!” he groaned as he felt your walls wrap perfectly around his cock while he twitched inside you releasing all his warm sperm inside your pussy.

You both were panting and could barely catch a breath through the small kisses you gave each other, “might have marked you more than I want” he chuckled as he pulled out of you and looked to see his cum leaving your pussy “That's fucking hot.” he smirks as he looks up at you.

You on the other hand were a little panicked as no one had ever raw cummed in you “Yeah until I'm 5 months pregnant!” I scowl, just leaving striker there laughing “Well I couldn't exactly pull out when your legs were around me, besides, don't succubus want cum?”

You never before but by god you did now “I suppose so…”

“Then you'll be fine, I'll grab you the pill in the morning.” he said as he pulled you into him

“You better,” you remark and you lay on his chest.

(I do take requests so if you feel like making one have a look at my pinned blog and leave them under there!)

#striker x reader #striker x ftm reader #x ftm reader #striker x male reader #striker x trans reader #x trans reader #helluva boss

[love-lilly02]

The Challenge— Chapter 10

When you were younger, your mom would tell you how special you were. 

She would go on and on about how perfect you were, how wonderful you would grow up to be, just how smart, how you outshined the class, how you outshined everyone in everything that you did.

When you got older, you noticed that only happened when you followed her rules.

You were so humble when you ate exactly half of everything on your plate, smart only when you got above a 95% on your assignments. You were athletic when you won games, a little Einstein when you got blue ribbon in tournaments. You were only good to her when you could be the best. 

Your sister took an exact opposite route, choosing to do whatever she wanted. “Why live up to her bull shit expectations when i’m having so much fun?” 

That was what made you two so different. You scrapped for your mother’s attention, and she just… didn’t care for it. At all. It always served to confuse you, did nothing but spin your head in circles like some paradox you could never solve. Why not be the best? It’s done nothing but good for me. 

Until you were forced to fake your death. 

That wasn’t really great. 

Your mom had made it sound so convincing, like it was such a good idea. You remember her sitting down in your room, telling you all about the plan and how you would “come back” as a child they adopted to fill the loss. The same name as your sister and everything, all of it would be a fresh start. You get to redo all those wins, all those successes with her now!

And you had agreed. You played the role, hiding in a box while the shooter your mom hired killed a girl who looked exactly like you. You went into hiding while everything got settled out, came back with a new face and a new name, re-joined your “new” family with pride. 

And you kept your mom’s dirty little secret. You swore no one would know, that they would never find out you were a fraud. 

Till you enlisted, that is. 

Nobody ever expects to find lifelong partners in one of the most gruesome jobs known to man, but that’s exactly what happened. You climbed through the ranks so quickly everyone else swore on their lives you were a spy, and joined the task force with the sole mission of getting that name off of your back. Instead, you were introduced to a whole different view of life. 

The way the boys worked with each other never failed to surprise you. Often times, they didn’t even have to speak to make a request before it was being fulfilled, whether on the field or in the barracks. The only thing that kept you notified of these “ghost tasks” was when one of the boys would say “thanks mate” and you’d hear a body fall. 

Over time, they included you in these tasks. How it happened, you never knew, but you had the distinct feeling you needed to shoot that guy just there on the left, and when it happened Price would smile at you, and offer up a quick “Thanks, doll.”

Made you weak in the knees, but nobody needed to know that. 

The men on the task force showed you what true love was. They were there for you when some of your closest friends died on a mission, they saved your sorry ass from death so many times you were sure they were edging the grimm reaper. And they made you laugh harder than you had laughed in years— a full, real laugh, not the small giggle your mom made you do. 

Now you understood why your sister never followed those rules. Why she was so instant on rebelling, why she always looked happier.

And you fucked it up. You fucked all of it up. 

It just took you your whole life to realize it. 

Stupidly enough, your only concern was your sister. 

Being called to your captain’s office was nothing odd, but being summoned by the Lieutenant and both Sargents was… near unheard of. But you knew the instant you saw the looks on their faces that you weren’t sneaky enough. They had found you— the real you. 

You never understood what people meant when they said hearts sank, but in that moment yours just stopped beating completely. The walk to the office was completely silent, and you noticed the boys glancing at you and each other, but you never looked back. A million excuses whirled through your head, how you were tricked, lied too, how your mother was a psycho. None of them would fly in a court room. 

You just had to accept defeat. This was it, the end of your career. Fraud on this level could be punished by death, you were pretty sure. Maybe not in a court, but this was the military, and you were being sentenced by John Price. 

He wasn’t known to show mercy. 

“You know why you’re here, then.”

You just nodded. A tense silence hung about the room, and you saw Johnny shuffle nervously in the corner. 

“Lass— why would you… I canne understand it.” He said, trying desperately to catch your gaze. You kept your eyes pointedly trained on your shoes, never once looking up. 

“Can’t wrap my head ‘round it either. From the looks of it ‘ere, you had it all. Model student you were. What was the point? Got a kick out of it, hm?” Price gestured to the spray of photos, articles and videos, all proving his point. You just gave him a lame shrug. 

“Workin’ with me for so long must have taught you somethin. Better to stay quiet, eh? Think that’s gonna help?” Price snapped his fingers, and heavy footfalls sounded behind you. Ghost’s thick black hand snaked around your neck, forcing your chin up to look at Price. “Hate doin’ this to a team mate, but I got no choice now.” His accent was thick, and in any other circumstances you would have found it incredibly attractive. Now, though, it only served to support the feeling of dread sitting in your stomach. Distantly, you had the small thought that you were going to be sick. 

You tried opening your mouth to say something, although what you were going to say was completely lost on you. It was almost like you were locked in place, forever paused with that stupid look of fear on your face. Now you got why being interrogated by these men was so scary, something most people didn’t survive. You wanted to speak, just as well as you understood that— deep down— the boys were all hoping there was a good reason behind why this happened. But you just physically couldn’t.

“Olright, leme ask you this.” This time it was Ghost, and his hand jerked your chin up to look at him. “You enjoy it? Gettin’ your little ‘do over,’ doin everything right? It made you happy?” 

“At first.” This time you were able to speak, because the answer was so simple. “But not anymore. Never, anymore.” Ghost’s eyes flicked up to his captain, and suddenly he was letting your face go and stepping away. You turned to Price to see how he was leaning over the table, palms clasped into a fist under his chin. 

“I’m gonna give you one chance to explain.” He says. 

So you do. 

You tell them all the things your mom said about you, everything she abused about your sister, how she just didn’t care and kept being herself the whole time. You told them how she came up with the plan, how it was executed, what you did after, how you two didn’t get caught. 

And after, they all just stared in shock. 

“I don’t— I regret it. If that’s what you all are wondering. Doing that to her… She was forced into a life even I hated living. I know what she— why she did the things she did. Being this happy…” You were crying, trying to speak through the huge choking sobs that threatened to escape. “That doesn’t make anything better, I guess. Just don’t hurt her. She had a good life, and she can still live one— I just—“ You hiccuped, scrubbing at your eyes frantically. The sound of the chair scraping against the tile floor didn’t register, but huge arms around your body did. 

“ ‘S alright darling. Gonna be okay, I gotcha.”

And for the first time in your life, you cry in John Price’s arms

AN: Time to disappear for another week😈😈 until next time, my lovelies!!

#cod x reader #poly 141 x reader #task force 141 x reader #poly 141 #simon riley x reader #kyle gaz garrick #john price x reader #john soap mactavish #simon ghost x reader #this series is almost over guys☹️☹️

[milesmolasses]

Trust Don’t Work (Earth 42! Miles x black! fem reader)

Earth 42 miles finna make me act up hes so damn fine

AND I THINK HE MY AGE!!!

don’t y’all just love thug livin?

on my tupac type beat

Warnings: kinda toxic relationship, mentions of blood and killing

From what you knew, Miles Morales was a hard working guy. Always around doing God knows what  as he barely has time for anything else, other than his work. The time that you get to spend with your boyfriend is very limited throughout the day, whether it be short-lived dinners when he comes home, or his lips on yours as he’s about to walk out the door and go back to work.

When you first asked Miles about what kind of work he does that has him out and about all day, he told you, “Don’t worry about that mami, just worry about getting your pretty little nails done.”

And that’s exactly what you did. If Miles didn’t want you worrying about what he did for work, then you thought that you should respect his privacy and his wishes. However, respecting his wishes became difficult when he began coming home in the middle of the night with specs of blood on his jackets and shirts.

Lord knows you would stay up late until Miles finally came home, and when you would try to talk to him, his response would always be “Don’t worry about it ma.”

“What the hell is this... Jesus, Miles are you bleeding? Who did this to you? Did you get in a fight? Miles talk to me-”

“Yo, didn’t I say you don’t gotta worry about it? Dios mío I’m fine ma, now take yo ass to bed,” he said in annoyance whilst walking past you.

It was becoming an ongoing cycle of you questioning Miles every night when he came home and him brushing it off like it was nothing. That was until one day, Miles came home days after he left. He didn’t call, he didn’t text, he didn’t even leave you a note telling you he would be gone for a while.

The first time he left for a couple of days, you almost had a panic attack. For all you knew he was dead already. Thoughts of him being found dead somewhere on the streets plagued your mind, sending you into a frenzy of calling him and texting him, desperately needing to hear his voice. It wasn’t until he came home two days later to see you angry crying when he apologized for scaring you so bad. 

“Mami, you gotta understand it was a stupid mistake. I was out on business for a couple days, and I forgot to tell you. Por favor, I’m sorry. I ain’t mean to scare you like this Ma.”

Learning his lesson, whenever he had to go for a couple days he left you a note on your refrigerator, saying that he would be gone and not to worry about him. This is when you really began to want answers as to what your boyfriend was doing. There was no way he was working no 9 to 5 and being gone for three days. You needed an explanation as to what was going on. 

You chose to try asking Miles what he did for work once again. You sat him down and tried having a one on one conversation with him, slowly leading him up to the big question you wanted to ask. When you had finally asked it, Miles seemed upset with you. He had told you multiple times not to worry about what he did because as long as it paid the bills, you shouldn’t have to worry about what he does. 

“Miles, you come home with blood on you and I don’t see you for three days and you expect me not to ask you these questions? Do you think I’m fucking stupid? You want this relationship to work, you need to put in the fucking work. I need you to tell me the truth,” you said as you paced around your apartment.

What you wanted to be a calm conversation had quickly turned into an argument between the two of you. At this point, it wasn’t even about what Miles did for work, it was about the fact that he was lying straight to your face 24/7. 

“What happened to you saying that a relationship needs boundaries? What, now that I have my boundaries set straight you wanna cross them?” he asked. “If I don’t want you to know what I do for work, then that should be that! You trying to press me to say something that I don’t feel needs to be said, is crossing my boundaries!”

Arguments, like these became frequent; the longer his lie went on, the more your trust for him began to crumble. The more you tried to question him, the more walls he put up between the both of you. It wasn’t until one morning when you turn on channel 2 news to see none other than New York City’s newest vigilante in the limelight.

He had a mask on so you couldn’t see his true face, but cascading down from his head you recognized those two long frizzy braids anywhere,

“Oh my God…”

It was like your whole world was falling apart — the man you loved, was out in the world killing people. Though yes, these people were terrible people who were wreaking havoc upon New York City, that still didn’t change the fact that your boyfriend, Miles Morales, was killing people.

Your breathing began to pick up, your eyes searching the room frantically for something, anything to make this horrible feeling go away. You gripped the edge of the couch, shaking your head, praying a mantra of denial and trying to convince yourself that this wasn’t real.

“No… no no no no no this can’t be real- this can’t be happening, no it’s not him.”

When Miles came home the next day, you couldn’t even look at him. You knew. You knew what he was doing for “work,” that he was killing people and making deals with others. It wasn’t until a few weeks later that Miles realized you were acting strange toward him.

“Mami? Mami ¿qué tal? You’re acting weird,” he said as he sat next to you on the couch, nudging you. You had both legs up with your hands wrapped around your knees; almost like you were cradling yourself.

“I’m fine baby.. just a little tired,” you tried getting up from the couch, not wanting to be near him now that you were fully aware of what he was doing. You didn’t know how to feel about him anymore.

Miles pulled you back down to the couch by your shoulders as he said, “Nuh-uh, hàblame. I’m not just gonna let you get up and leave me without talking about this first-“

“Who said I was gonna leave you? Huh? Is that what you think Miles, that I’m gonna leave you-” you questioned him with your eyes wide open looking at him. He looked at you, surprised by your small outburst.

“What? N-no mi amor I meant leave the couch.. are you good you’ve been acting like this for a while now?”

It was happening. You know you would have to tell him that you found out what he was doing, but you just didn’t think it would have to be so soon.

“I know what you’re doing.”

“Huh-? Baby what are you talking abo-”

“I know you’re the vigilante on the news. I know it’s you Miles, I seen the braids on his head so don’t even try to deny it!”

Miles slowly took his hand off your shoulder, surprised at what you just told him. Jesus Christ how could you have guessed just by the braids on his head?

“Okay… you know… what do you want me to say about that?” he said, careful not to tread too close to your emotions.

“I want you to tell me why,” you said, putting your head in your hands trying so hard not to let the tears flow. Miles could hear the way your voice cracked as you tried to get the right words out. “Why are you doing this?”

“I’m doing it for you Ma-“

“No you’re not, cause I ain’t never ask for you to go leave this house and kill people! I never asked for that shit man!”

Miles sat there, bewildered. Just looking at you and your convulsing body as you were full out sobbing into your hands. He couldn’t think of what to say. Nothing would fix this, nor what he had done. You were right, we was a killer. But he had always tried his best to keep that side of him private. All he wanted was to protect you from the ugly side of his life. If he had openly told you he was the Prowler, a target would be instantaneously attached to your back.

Just as he was about to open his mouth to say something, his phone rang in his pocket. He slowly sat up to grab it and tell the person calling that now was not the time. But when he heard his uncle Aaron telling him he needed him outside to complete unfinished business, he had no clue what to say in the moment. After a few silent beats and a sigh, he quietly agreed over the phone to meet up with him.

You turned your head to the side to see miles ending the phone call. He turned to look at you, head scrambling to find an excuse to tell you he needed to go in the middle of an argument.

You turned your head back into your hands as you told him with no emotion evident in your voice,

“Just get out man…”

ooooooooo milessssssssss

lol this was fun y’all!

I love Miles G. so imma be sure to write smth more light hearted for the next one

Idk if he’s a lil OOC but we don’t really even know what his character personality is yet

y’all I don’t speak spanish, so for the little spanish I put in here I hope I ain’t screw it up 😭

and if I did, feel free to tell me!!!

#miles morales #earth42 miles #miles g #miles morales x reader #across the spiderverse #into the spider verse #spiderman miles morales #milesmolasses

[bradshawsbitch]

“just pretend to be my date.” with our sweetest boy bradley? i’ll never be able to pass up a fake dating trope

oh my god I love this!! let’s fake date our sweetest boy🥰💘

disclaimer: I grew up piss poor so I don’t really know anything about fancy dinners and stuff, so no hate if it’s ‘wrong’ lol.

warnings: f!reader, persistent dumbass coworker, Bradley being sweet!

Description; your co-worker can’t seem to figure out what the word ‘no’ means. Hopefully Bradley can help you with that!

Letting out a frustrated sigh, you sat at your desk at work, brows furrowed as you twirled side to side in your little office chair. It peeved you, that your co-worker obviously hadn’t been denied anything in his life. You cursed his mother, who obviously skipped teaching him the meaning of “no” and “leave me the fuck alone”. He was the quintessential man who has never been talked back to, and always has to get his way. Which is why you were in this predicament. There was going to be a huge charity dinner this upcoming weekend, and he had been pestering you for weeks to go as his date. Your kind ‘no’ had apparently flown over his head, and your more harsh ‘no’ made him laugh. His laugh made you want to kick him. Which you didn’t because you liked your job and would love to keep it.

Which is why you’d said you already had a date. In fact, you had a boyfriend. A long-term boyfriend. Why hadn’t he seen him? He’s been deployed. Yeah, he was deployed. He was in the navy, actually! You didn’t like that you had to mention that you ‘belonged’ to another man to get this other persistent man to back the fuck off.

You were in such deep shit. You’d told your coworker a name when he’d acted all suspicious. It was the first name that popped up in your head. Perhaps it was because he was the love of your life your best friend, and you trusted him, but you’d said your long-term boyfriends name was Bradley. Bradley in the Navy. Perfect.

You had actually previously planned to meet said Bradley at the Hard Deck after work, and the day was coming to a close. You’d just ask him. You’d sit down, nurse a drink, and just… ask him. ‘Hey please can you help me shoo away a tiny little wisp of a man who can’t take no for an answer because he won’t listen to me but he’ll probably listen to you?’. Yeah. Just ask.

Heaving another sigh you called it a day. If you got there before Bradley you could always just pre-game to help your nerves.

The drive to the Hard Deck was uneventful, and as you stepped inside you spotted a familiar face, moustache and all, sitting by the bar and waving with a smile on his face. God he was handsome!

“Hiya sweetheart!” Bradley smiled, enveloping you in a warm, lingering hug. Resting your forehead against his broad chest, you inhaled his familiar scent. Your whole body seemed to relax at his mere presence, and he chuckled softly as he noticed.

“Had a long day, honey?” He smiled down at you and you nodded tiredly.

“You could say that,” the two of you sat down and ordered, you asked him how he’d been and you chatted for a little while before you figured there was no point in prolonging the torture.

“Look, Bradley,” your voice had turned serious, and he raised a brow as he gave you his undivided attention “I need your help,” he was starting to get a worried crease between his brows.

“What can I do?” He said softly, reaching over and laying his large, warm palm atop of yours.

“Um, well - I’ve told you about that co-worker that’s been annoying me?” Bradley snorted a laugh “The one who can’t take a hint? Yeah,” he smirked.

“Exactly the one. Well, there’s this charity dinner thing this weekend, and he’s asked me for months. And my first twenty rejections seem to have fallen on deaf ears,” you paused for a beat, gauging his reaction - and as you expected, Bradley was starting to look annoyed.

“And I might’ve told him I already have a date. In fact I went as far as telling him I was in a long-term relationship,” you confessed with a wince, and Bradley was smiling in amusement again.

“And are you?” He inquired, a hint of a laughter bubbling in his voice.

“Of course I’m not! I told him the reason he hadn’t seen my boyfriend ever picking me up or taking me to lunch was because he was deployed. And I might’ve said his name was Bradley” by now your friend was biting his lip to keep the rumbling laughter building in his chest from slipping out.

You powered on hastily “and I figured who better to ask than an actual navy pilot who’s name is Bradley? So uh, please?” You finished awkwardly, avoiding his gaze and staring intently at the bar top.

“Please what, sweetheart?” Bradley was smirking now. Ugh, god he was enjoying this. Why did you love him again? Oh, right because he was the actual equivalent of sunshine and warm, fuzzy feelings.

“Just pretend to be my date, okay? Please?” You were pleading now. Your voice needy and just a little whiney, needing him to understand how badly you wanted your co-worker off your back.

“Yeah, of course,” your head shot up, eyes twinkling.

“Really?” your voice sounded breathless with relief.

“Yeah, I’d love to meet this dude and get to tell him to kindly fuck off in person” Bradley shrugged with a smug smirk on his lips. You squealed slightly before throwing yourself at your friend, hanging on his neck as you thanked him over and over again. He chuckled and let his hand draw circles on your back.

What Bradley didn’t tell you was that he’d also love to show you what a great date, and boyfriend he could be. He’d wanted you for so long, but he was content with being your friend. He’d never want you to feel as if he only valued you if you were his girlfriend. But maybe he’d dare ask you on a real date if the fake one this weekend went good.

—

When Bradley showed up at your door, right on time, holding the most beautiful bouquet of flowers, tears burned in your eyes.

“Bradley, I’ve spent at least an hour on my makeup, you can’t make me cry by being this sweet!” You’d exclaimed as he smiled at you and gave you the flowers.

“Well, I’m supposed to be your boyfriend tonight, right? Isn’t that what boyfriends do, bring their beautiful girlfriends flowers?” He asked as he stepped inside your apartment as you tended to the bouquet.

“None of my previous ones has,” you shrugged. How was he already better than all your previous partners and he was only pretending? Ugh.

Bradley’s eyebrows shot up “sounds like you’ve dated shitty people,” you smiled at him and just replied that you must have.

Bradley was the perfect gentleman, holding his arm out for you to take as you walked to his car, he even opened the door and helped you get in (your dress, although gorgeous, didn’t seem to be made to climb into Broncos).

As you arrived at the dinner, Bradley turned to you “I forgot to ask. Am I allowed to kiss you tonight?” You sucked in a breath, only blinking a couple of times before you went for the safe option “I mean, you don’t have to if you don’t want to of course - I can just tell people we’re not much for PDA” you rambled.

“But is it okay?” He said softly as you exited the car, his hand finding the small of your back as he led you into the large, beautifully decorated room.

“Yes,” you said breathlessly, not daring to look into those beautiful brown eyes of his.

To your dismay, you and Bradley had been seated at the same table as your co-worker, and whilst you were scowling and wincing at every stupid question he asked Bradley, Bradley was only smiling and smirking bigger and bigger - as his answers went from polite to borderline mocking him. Your co-worker seemed oblivious though, which only made Bradley chuckle softly underneath his breath. His hand hadn’t left yours all night, and there always seemed to be some part of him touching you. It was driving you wild in the most delicious way. Bradley would make an excellent real boyfriend.

As your co-worker turned to you, and started asking invasive and inappropriate questions about yours and Bradley’s “relationship”, Bradley decided he’d had enough and abruptly said,

“Sweetheart, I love this song. Would you like to dance with me, darling?” God, you could melt under his intense gaze. You’d barely answered with a breathless ‘yes please’ before Bradley whisked you away to the other side of the dance floor, his hands finding your waist as you swayed together.

“Thank you,” you needed him to know how thankful you were that he’d sacrificed his evening to listening to your dumbass co-worker. Bradley just smiled at you before twirling you with his one hand.

“You look beautiful tonight,” he murmured as he brought you closer. You could feel your heartbeat pick up, and perhaps it skipped a couple of beats at the close proximity of Bradley in a black suit with a bow tie.

“I could say the same for you. You look unbelievably handsome” you confessed, still not meeting his gaze as you licked your lips. Afraid you might confess something else if you were looking into his soulful eyes.

“Darling, please look at me” he whispered, raising his hand to tilt your chin upwards.

“I don’t think I want to only be your pretend boyfriend” he smiled, and your eyes widened. He leaned in, taking a beat before connecting his lips to yours.

“I’d love to be your real boyfriend, if you’ll have a navy pilot who’s deployed sometimes,” he joked as he broke away, thinking back to what you’d told your colleague about your relationship.

“Oh,” you gasped as he smiled at you “I think I’d love nothing more!”

#bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x reader #rooster x reader #Bradley bradshaw fluff #bradley bradshaw fic #thank you!! #300 celly

[pedrito-friskito]

strawberry wine - joel miller x ofc!liv stone/fem!reader

during - part twelve

series masterlist | main masterlist | read on ao3

joel finally gets his head out of his ass, with a little push from tess.

a/n: we have BIG CONVERSATIONS IN THIS HOUSE FAM. i want to reiterate: i love the canon joel x tess. i live for it. but the drama/angst/emotion it has allowed me to create but backpedaling them SLIGHTLY? delish. enjoy babes, please scream at me about the ending 😇

word count: 5.5k

warnings: MY BLOG IS 18+, MINORS DNI, angst, drinking, lots of emotions, mentions of canon-typical violence and injuries, mentions of death, joel is both an asshole and an Emotional Man, tess and liv are true bffs and god bless last night’s episode for solidifying some of my plans 🤍

✨I do not have a taglist - follow @friskito-library for updates on future chapters/works✨

“You need to talk to her.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Yes, Joel, you—”

“Don’t tell me what I need to fuckin’ do, Tess. Leave it be.”

“Joel—”

“Please.”

+

You’ve been staying at Deanna’s. Two weeks now, since your stint in lockup, since Angie had beat the literal shit out of you. The couch isn’t comfy, and your ribs are still sore, but it’s fine. 

The kids are happy to have you around. Emily especially, once she got past the bruises on your face. You weren’t expecting Henry’s reaction; when you woke up in Deanna’s apartment the next morning, he was sitting vigil beside you, tears on his face, bottom lip jutting out. You told him you fell down the stairs, trying to get a laugh out of him, and he’d just hugged you, buried his face in your chest.

You try to keep things normal, whatever the fuck that means anymore. You take on extra jobs, trying to earn more ration cards for the three living in your apartment. Tess shadows you, follows you around every day, and you tell her your secrets, point out your routes, the soldiers you have dirt on, the ones you know not to fuck with.

“She’s the one that beat you?” she asks one day, jutting her chin towards Angie. You’re standing in the warehouse that serves as the food bank, waiting in line. You’ve had a heartbeat in the bruise on your cheek since you woke up, and standing ten feet from the woman who gave it to you isn’t exactly helping. 

You disguise your nod as a stretch, wincing at the pull on your ribs. Deanna was sure you hadn’t broken any, but you sure as hell were bruised. They didn’t look as bad as your cheek, but the pain was deeper, and seemed intent to linger longer. “Yeah, that’s her.”

Tess sneers in her direction, and you have to stifle your laugh. “Fucking bitch.”

You like Tess. You really like her. She’s a hard ass, but rightfully so, given the history. She hasn’t given you much more of her past, and you’re definitely not about to offer up any of yours, but the friendship between you is quick. You’ve skirted the Joel subject so far, despite the fact that they’re literally sleeping in your bed. Most of your conversations have been about the QZ, the inner workings, your smuggling. You have a job coming up, and Tess has already said she’s coming with you.

“I doubt Joel will be thrilled about that.”

“Joel can fucking shove it.”

She hasn’t been shy about her displeasure towards him, but it hasn’t done much to change things between you. You went down to grab some clothes a few days back, and he’d been the only one inside. Tess was out exploring, and Tommy had gone with her.

He didn’t say a goddamned word.

You’d managed to hold back the tears until you were back in the hallway, but you sobbed so hard you thought you actually were going to crack a rib. And on the other side of the door, you heard the radio flick on, assumedly to drown out your noise.

You nearly put your boot through the wall.

You move up a few places in line, and reach into your pocket, pulling out the ration cards you’ve collected. It’s worked out okay; you had some stashed to begin with and you were able to pull a few jobs after you got back on your feet. But Tess is adamant they’ll pay you back, despite your protests.

“First job I take,” she says to you, jutting her chin towards the stack in your hand, “you get half.”

You shake your head. “I told you, it’s fine.“

“It’s not,” she replies, her tone determined. “It’s the least we can do, after what you did for us. Hell, I should give you back double for putting up with the bullshit Joel’s been throwing at you.”

“It’s okay.”

“It’s not,” she repeats, and grabs your arm, turning you towards her slightly. “I’m not fucking okay with this. I need you to get that. He needs to talk to you. You need to talk to him.”

“He doesn’t want to talk to me, Tess,” you say, toying with a corner of a ration card. “I have to respect that.”

“And he should give you the same courtesy,” she says as you move up again. “You need to talk this out. He can’t keep putting up brick fucking walls; you deserve more respect than that. You put your ass on the line for us, and got the shit kicked out of you. History or not, he owes you. I’ll lock you two in the same room if I have to.”

“Hah,” you scoff, lifting your brows. “I’m sure he’d love that.” 

She goes quiet as you reach the front of the line, handing over the cards. The woman working the table slides a crate of food across to you a second later, along with two jugs of water that Tess reaches for. It’s not until you’re back outside that she speaks again.

“I want us to be friends,” she says, and the tone in her voice makes you pause, stopping in your tracks. “I like you, Liv; you’re strong as hell. Brave. Best damn smuggler I’ve ever seen. I just…I need you to understand, me and Joel, it’s nothing close to what I had with Nate, or what he had with you. I know that. I get that. We laid out ground rules from square one. It’s a…” She trails off, searching for the right word.

“A comfort,” you provide.

She nods. “Yes. And I…if I had a second chance with Nate? If I walked down this street tomorrow and saw him walking through that fucking gate, there’s nothing I wouldn’t do to—” She stops, clamps her hand over her mouth and you almost jump when you see the tears in her eyes.

“Tess.” She blinks hard, waving a hand at you, and in an instant, the badass demeanour has returned, if not doubly so. You continue, “If he’s a comfort to you, I can’t be the person that takes that away. He’s not mine to take. Especially not if he doesn’t want me back. It’s okay. You can’t force his hand in this.”

She eyes you, chewing at her thumbnail before, “Maybe I can.”

You shake your head, hefting the crate of food higher on your hip. “Let’s take this back.”

+

The doorknob jiggles, and Joel’s head snaps up. He’s sat on your couch, some book about woodworking in his hands, a mostly abandoned glass of whiskey on the table in front of him. Tommy’s at the kitchen table, bent over a map, trying to figure out the path they’d taken, all the way back to Austin. “I’m just curious,” he’d said when Joel had asked, his voice almost clipped. Joel hadn’t pushed any further.

The door swings open, revealing you and Tess, a crate of food on your hip, Tess carrying jugs of water. Joel gets to his feet, wanders towards the kitchen, leaning against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest. Tommy gets up immediately, takes one of the jugs from Tess. She starts putting stuff away, and you step closer to the table, digging in the pocket of your coat. “Exciting news,” you say, pulling out a key ring with three keys on it, dropping it onto the table. “Moving day.”

“We’re not going far, are we?” Tess asks over her shoulder.

“No,” you reply, pushing a hand through your hair before shucking off your coat. “One floor up, few units down. Besides, you know where to find me.” Joel catches you glance his way, but it’s short-lived, you turning away a moment later to help Tess put the rest of the food away. “I saw they have a posting for a handyman in the building, one for the apartment across the street too,” you say, putting away a box of instant mashed potatoes. “Unit maintenance and stuff like that, thought you boys might be good for it.”

Tommy nods, enthusiastic. “Sounds good to me.” He glances at Joel over his shoulder. “Gotta get started paying you back what we owe you, Liv.”

You wave a hand, and Joel sees Tess give you a pointed look. “Listen, all of you. We’re square, okay? I mean it. I’m just…I’m glad you’re all here. Safe. That’s all that matters to me.”

Joel can’t hold his tongue. “That soldier beat you half to death.”

“Oh, you noticed?” you throw back, and the guilt simmers in his gut. “We’re square,” you repeat, leaning against the kitchen counter, hip cocked, arms crossed over your chest. A mirror of Joel’s stance. “But there’s something I wanted to bring up to the three of you. Tess and I have already talked it over, and I’ve done okay for myself given the circumstance, but I could use you, all three of you.” Your eyes flick from Tommy to Joel and back again, so quick he nearly misses it. “It’s a risk, I won’t lie, but I’ve got dirt on half the soldiers in this QZ. And I know exactly what to give them to keep their mouths shut.” 

“You already know I’m in,” Tess says, bumping her hip into yours. There’s a tiny grin on your face, the bruising along your cheek pinching slightly. “There are still connections from Baltimore we can use. Between the four of us, we could be living like kings, for a change.”

You nod. “Either way, it’s an offer. I trust you all enough that you’ll keep it secret, but if you want in, my door’s always open.” You pause. “But I do want my keys back.”

“I’m game,” Tommy says, leaning back in his chair. “You tell me where and when, Liv, and I’m there.”

“Same,” Tess agrees, “but we’re still paying you back.”

Joel can’t believe what he’s hearing. “Are you out of your damn minds? Both of you?” He stares at Tommy when his brother turns to face him, glances at Tess when she steps forward and plants her hands on the kitchen table. “We just got safe again, and already you want to put that in jeopardy?”

Tess scoffs, and the sound makes Joel blood boil. There’s too much happening. The guilt never leaves, but seeing you, hearing your voice, it makes it that much worse, and Tess looking at him like he’s a fucking idiot doesn’t help matters.

“We pulled a lot of bad shit to stay alive out there, Joel,” she says, her tone stern. “Baltimore was no different. I highly doubt a bit of smuggling is going to fuck with our reputations.”

“Your records are clean,” you offer, your voice placating. It makes the hair on the back of Joel’s neck stand on end. “When Cowan brought you through, he wiped them. Tommy’s is already clean, otherwise they wouldn’t have let him through to start with.” You lift your hands. “It’s just an offer, Joel.”

How have you managed to make his own name feel like a punch to the gut?

“I’ll show you to the apartment,” you say, grabbing the keys off the table, putting a hand on Tess’s shoulder. “You guys can talk it out. There’s no pressure. I’ve got a job in a few days, and—”

“I already told you, I’m going with you,” Tess says, and Joel’s brows raise.

“Tess—”

“Shut up, Joel.” She turns towards the door. “Let’s go.”

You swallow, hard enough that Joel can see your throat bob from where he’s standing. Tess grabs her jacket, gestures at Tommy to do the same, and his brother gets to his feet. You hold open the door, and Joel follows Tess and Tommy out. He tries to catch your eye as he walks past you, but your gaze drops to the floor.

Their unit is one floor up, three down from yours. You unlock the door before handing the keys to Tess, let it swing inwards. It looks about the same as yours, save for the floral wallpaper. It’s a bit bigger, an actual separate bedroom, another bed tucked in one corner, a room divider that’s seen better days blocking it off. He’s surprised, almost, that there’s furniture, even blankets on the beds, and follows his brother inside. Tess wanders, and you hang in the doorway, leaned against the jamb.

“I found some stuff at the donation warehouse,” you say, scratching the back of your neck. “People will leave all kinds of shit down there, stuff they don’t need. The mattresses aren’t great, but I cleaned them best I could, and there’s some clothes too.” Joel turns to look at you, and your eyes move away from his again. “And, if you’re game for smuggling, when knows what else we might find.”

Tommy walks back over to where you’re stood, slings an arm around your neck, pulling you against him. “You’re an angel, Liv. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” you reply, leaning your head against Tommy’s chest, and Joel ignores the zip of…is that jealousy surging through his gut? Fuck.

But it turns into guilt just as quick, makes something mean bubble out of his mouth before he can stop it. “You shouldn’t have done this.” He doesn’t look at you, not directly, but from the corner of his eye, sees you balk, flinching slightly.

“Joel,” Tess chides, walking over to the door, pulling you out of Tommy’s grip and into a hug. “We owe you, I mean it.”

Joel watches, as you hug Tess. Your eyes flutter shut, your hands hooked around her shoulders, your brow pinched slightly. God, how many times had this thought crossed his mind? How many times had he wondered if the two of you would get along?

How many times had he dreamt of merely seeing you again?

Yet here he is, fucking it up harder than anyone ever could have imagined.

“I’m gonna go,” you say, jutting a thumb over your shoulder. “Tess, I’ll see you tomorrow?” She nods. “And Tommy, you can ask Sergeant McCoy about the handyman gig. He’s a decent guy.”

Then your eyes turn to Joel. He meets them, looks back at you, feels the guilt so thickly he’s convinced it’s replacing his blood. He thinks he hears you say his name, but then your wrench your eyes from his, disappearing from the doorway. His feet move of their own accord, propelling him towards the door, but he stops short, hands swinging at his sides.

Tommy claps him on the shoulder. “Brother, I love you, but you’re a fucking idiot.” He turns to Tess. “I’m gonna go check on her.”

Tess just nods, and the door shuts a moment later. It’s just the two of them, and Joel can already tells he’s about to be on the receiving end of Tess’s anger.

“Sit, Miller.” She points to the kitchen table. It’s not much different than yours, though there are no maps spread across the surface. “You can’t keep doing this shit.”

“Tess, don’t—”

“No, shut the fuck up,” she cuts him off, her hand flexing in the air. “You’re gonna sit there and you’re gonna listen, you understand? Please.”

Tess doesn’t often say please.

Joel swallows hard. “Fine.”

“You need to go after Liv,” she says, the words blunt, laying her hand flat on the table. “You can’t keep pushing her away and treating her the way that you are. You can’t keep doing this to her.”

“I have to,” he replies, the words quick, half-hearted. An excuse.

“No, you don’t,” Tess throws back, just as quick.

“You—”

“We’re done,” she says, cutting him off again. “You and I. It was just stress relief, right from the beginning. I know that, you know that. Nate was gone and you were there and I…” She shakes her head, lifts her hand to her mouth and bites her knuckle before continuing. “If I had a second chance like this, a second shot, goddamn, I would have dropped you so fast your head would’ve spun.” She actually laughs. Her eyes are big and wet, but no tears fall. “She loves you, Joel, and you love her. I knew it from the second you saw her at the gas station. It’s not—”

“Tess—”

“Listen to me, Joel. If I turned a corner tomorrow and saw Nate right there in front of me, there’s not a force on this whole fucking planet that could keep me from him. So why are you doing this to her? To yourself?”

He goes quiet, for a long moment. Stares down at the table top, digs his nail into the grain of the wood. “You said it yourself, Tess. We did a lot of bad shit out there to stay alive. I’m not…” He shakes his head. “I’m not who she remembers, who she loved before.”

Tess reaches out and grabs his hand, squeezes his fingers tightly. “Joel, the fucking world ended. I didn’t know her before, but I highly doubt that the Liv I know now was the same before the outbreak. We do what we have to, to survive. She put her life on the line for us, without batting a fucking eye. The least you can do is talk to her.”

“I can’t—”

“You can. What do I have to say to get it though your thick fucking skull, Miller? Second chances like this don’t just happen. If I had one, I sure as hell wouldn’t squander it the way you’re so hellbent on doing. So don’t.”

“Tess—”

“Please.”

Tess doesn’t often say please.

Slowly, Joel gets to his feet, and Tess follows suit. He’s not quite sure what to do next, but then she grabs the front of his jacket, hauls him against her, throws her arms around his neck. He hugs her back, mouth pressed to the curve of her shoulder.

“And I don’t wanna hear any more shit about not joining forces with Liv,” Tess says softly. “We’d be fucking fools not to.” She claps him on the shoulder, pulling away. “I’ll see you around, Joel.”

“Bye, Tess.”

The doorknob is cold when he reaches for it, and Tess doesn’t say another word as he steps out into the hall, pulls the door shut. His feet seem to carry him down the hall on their own. He heads down the stairs, faintly hears Tommy’s voice calling after him as he heads down towards the lobby. 

“Joel, where you going?”

It’s still a few hours until curfew, the sky still light, though dark clouds are gathering over the city. The moment he’s out the main door, he’s sprinting, running as fast as his legs will carry him. He’s pushing past people on the street, boots scuffing on the pavement, mumbling apologies when he almost crashes into someone. 

He just keeps going, arms pumping once he’s through the crowds of people trying to get home. He has no idea where he’s going, but he just keeps going, on and on and on until he finds himself standing in the same alleyway you’d lead him and Tess through, when you’d smuggled them inside.

What the fuck is he doing?

The rain starts slow, a few drips pelting his shoulders, the back of his neck. He tips his head back, stares up at the ominous dark clouds, hears the rumble of thunder in the distance. Joel lets his eyes slip closed, hands loose at his sides.

In a flash, it’s a downpour. He’s soaked in a matter of seconds, rainwater seeping through his hair, wetting his scalp. It runs down his cheeks, sneaks beneath the collar of his flannel, gathers in the hollow of his throat.

She loves you, Joel, and you love her. 

Tess is right. He knows she’s right. It didn’t matter how much time had passed, he always knew in the back of his mind that if he found you again, he wouldn’t be able to keep himself away from you. Everything he’s been doing, everything he’s said since you mentioned Sarah, it’s been…survival. Fear, that if he lets himself have you again, he’ll just lose you, like he lost her. That someone or something will take you from him.

Tommy told me. About Sarah. Joel, I’m so sorry, I just—

It hurts. The memory makes panic and fear surge through him, every single time. Makes his heart beat faster, his hands clench into fists, sweat at his hairline. But you don’t know that. How could you? He hasn’t told you, hasn’t let you in, hasn’t done anything but try and stay as far away from you as possible.

He can’t keep doing this. He knows that. When he closes his eyes, he still sees those tears on your face, at the gas station. The bat in your hand, the bravery in your eyes. You weren’t the same person he’d fallen in love with back in Austin. But you’ve survived just as hard as he has, and you lived. You’re alive.

I’ll find you, baby.

He swore to you.

“What the fuck am I doing?” Joel says the words aloud, towards the sky, to the dark clouds still pouring down on him. “Fuck.”

He turns on his heel and sprints back up the alley. The rain isn’t letting it up, pelting his face, soaking his hair further. He pushes his way back through the crowds, takes the same random path he’d just run in reverse, back to the building.

Back to you.

He takes the stairs two at a time, ignoring the way his knees are shouting in protest. He’s out of breath by the time he skids to a stop in front of your door, bangs his fist on the wood. “Liv!”

“It’s open,” he hears you call from the other side, and twists the handle, pushes the door open. You’re sitting at the kitchen table, rubbing at your forehead, a bottle of whiskey not far from reach. Your gaze lifts slowly, but then your entire expression changes when you see him standing there in the doorway. “Joel? What’re you do—”

“I wanna talk to you,” he says, the words coming out in a rush. His heart is hammering in his chest. He steps through the doorway, shuts it behind him. “Please.”

“Why are you wet?” you ask, your eyes narrowing, but then you shake your head, waving your hands. “Doesn’t matter. What…you wanna talk?”

“I do.”

“About what?”

He heaves a breath. “You. Me. Tess, she—”

You lift a hand, your expression turning defeated, and reach for the whiskey. “It’s fine, Joel. I get it. It’s not like I expected you to wait around for me or anything like that, but just for the record, it’s not reason enough to avoid me like the fucking plague.” You take a swig from the bottle, tearing your eyes from his.

“I’m sorry,” he says instantly, and takes a step towards the table. You lower the bottle, slide your gaze back to his. “About all of it, Liv. Please. I just wanna talk you.” 

He rubs a hand over the back of his neck, shakes the water from his fingers. You don’t say anything when he shrugs out of his jacket, hangs it on the hook near the door, settles into the seat across from you. He points towards the whiskey, and you slide it across the table to him. The liquor burns on the way down, but the warmth that follows helps with the chill from the rain.

You lean back slightly in your chair, crossing your arms over your chest, staring him down. “You wanna talk, Miller,” you say, and part of him wonders how much you’ve had to drink already. “Then talk.”

He takes another long swig of the whiskey. The noise the bottle makes as he puts it back down seems to echo through the apartment. “I’ve been an asshole,” he says, his gaze dropping to his lap, “since the gas station. I’ve been trying my goddamn best to push you away, and I just…” He lifts his head, lets one hand rest on the table, an olive branch between you. “I’m sorry.”

“You said that already.”

“Liv, I just…I did some terrible shit out there, to stay alive. I’m not the same. But I know you aren’t either.”

“We all do terrible shit to stay alive, Joel.” You huff a little laugh. “It’s just the way of the world now.” You drag a hand over your face. “Besides, you are the only thing I have left,” you say, and Joel’s heart jumps into his throat, “from before.” You blink hard, and he can see the tears gathering along your lashes. Everything in him wants to vault the table separating you and just hold you. “I was gonna leave Boston. Before they put up the wall, when all that was standing in my way was a fucking chain link fence. I was gonna leave. Then Cowan calls the Austin QZ, asks about my family, and there’s no record of my sister, no record of you, but my parents…”

You trail off, shaking your head, squeezing your eyes shut. You wipe at your cheeks, and lay your hand on the table, inches from his. Joel’s fingers twitch.

“What happened?”

“FEDRA levelled Austin, when it was overrun. My parents were in a shelter, when they dropped the bombs, and no one survived.”

Joel balks. He remembers, that night, the outbreak. He remembers Tommy’s truck barrelling down the road, down the main drag where the hardware store was. He remembers flames pouring out of the storefront, shattered glass and the way the awning had caught fire. He remembers praying to whoever the fuck was even bothering to listen anymore that your family was okay.

“So you stayed.”

You nod, fingers tapping on the table. “I stayed. I got lucky, really. Dean got me good, before I…” You trail off, rubbing at your shoulder. “They were killing anyone who was injured, shooting them point blank in the streets. I just ran, and nearly a week later, when the soldiers stopped me at the fence, I was still me, and Cowan made sure no one saw my injuries, had Deanna treat me. Left a nasty fucking scar.” You squeeze your shoulder, pulling your eyes from Joel’s. “I never stopped wanting to go looking for you, Joel. Not once. I just—”

He shakes his head, flexes his fingers on the tabletop. “It doesn’t matter, Liv. You did what you had to, to stay alive. We all did.” He swallows hard. “When did it happen? With Dean.”

You grab the bottle, turning fully to face him, your other hand still planted inches from his. “Outbreak day. It’s funny, actually, I had just been on the phone, with you, you remember?”

Joel lets himself smile, the conversation rising to the surface of his mind. “We wished each other happy birthday.”

“We did,” you agree, and take a swig. “I just got home, and Dean was…he was just standing there, in the bedroom, staring out the window. He didn’t notice me, not at first.” You shake your head, letting go of the bottle, rubbing your fingers across your forehead. “I shouldn’t have done it, looking back, but I didn’t know, and I…I called his name. He turned, and he looked at me with that…that dead look they have, you know? And then…then he started running at me, and I knew something was wrong. I kept the bat right by the bedroom door, and when he came at me, I just…swung. Until he stopped.”

You grab the bottle again, and Joel flexes his pinky wide, until it grazes yours. Your eyes drop to the table. “You protected yourself, baby.”

It’s like everything in the apartment shifts, as the endearment rolls off his tongue. He doesn’t mean to say it so soon, but everything in him is aching to comfort you, the feeling tenfold after being stuffed down for so long. Why did he put you through this? Why did he put himself through this?

Your eyes are watery when they lift to his again. “I never should have left Austin, Joel,” you say, and slide your hand across the table, settling it on top of his, your palms pressed together. “I never should have left you.”

“I’m here now,” he says, letting his fingers curl around your wrist. His heart races when you do the same. “It doesn’t matter. None of it.”

Your thumb slides across his pulse, and your eyes flutter shut for a moment before they meet his again. There’s fire in your eyes, one he hasn’t seen in a long, long time. “What are we doing here, Joel?”

His brow pinches. “What d’you mean?”

“This is the ultimate second chance,” you say, and he can’t help his chuckle, “and we are royally fucking it up.” He keeps laughing, and you dig your nails into his skin, making him yelp. “It’s not funny, Joel!”

“I know, I know,” he says, his tone going apologetic. “It’s just…you and Tess get on well, don’t you?”

You scoff a little laugh, nodding. “She’s a badass.”

He juts his chin towards you. “So are you.”

“I get it,” you say, pulling your eyes away. Your hand stays where it is. “The two of you, it makes sense. I…I was with Cowan.” You make a face. “Am with Cowan? I don’t know. It’s just…comfort, I guess, but now, it…”

Joel can’t help but bristle slightly. “He’s helped you all these years?”

You nod slowly. “Hasn’t ratted me out, got me out of some pretty deep shit once or twice. But he’s not…” You nail him to the spot with your stare, leaning forward slightly, sliding your hand up his arm until it’s wrapped around his forearm, resting in the crook of his elbow. “He doesn’t come close, Joel. Dean, Cowan, they’re just…” You shake your head. “They’re nothing, compared to you. I could never love anyone else the way I loved you.” You pause, chew your lip. “Love you.”

“Liv—”

“But I won’t get between you and Tess, I promise. I like her, and you and me, it doesn’t—”

“Tess broke things off,” he says, and your eyes go wide. “She was right. I couldn’t keep doing what I was doing, pushing you away, thinking it was easier that way. I don’t want to stay away from you anymore. I can’t stay away from you.”

“So don’t.”

“You just said you and Cowan—”

“It doesn’t fucking matter. None of it matters.”

Joel’s brain stalls, for a moment, seeing the flare in your eyes. He gets up slowly. Your hands move to your lap as he rounds the table, pulls you to your feet. There’s only inches between you, the air turning thick with tension. “Say it again,” he says, his voice hushed, almost a whisper.

You close the distance, stepping into his arms. His hands slip beneath the hem of your sweater, resting on your jean-clad hips, and Joel inhales deeply when your palms slide up his biceps, rest on his shoulders, one hand slipping up the back of his hair, wet curls twisted between your knuckles. 

“Don’t stay away from me,” you murmur, tugging lightly at his hair, until his face is angled with yours. He can smell the whiskey on your breath, see the remains of the bruise on your cheek. He can feel your heartbeat, wild against his own, your chest against his. “Be with me, Joel, please.”

Your voice cracks on the please, and that’s what gets him. The tension snaps, and he can’t hold back anymore.

There’s no hesitancy in it. It feels like he’s kissing you for the very first time all over again — feels like he’s seeing you for the first time all over again. The press of your mouth is hot and wet, a tiny mewl falling from your lips to his as you hold him to you, your fingers tightening in his hair. He kisses your bottom lip, then the top, sinking his teeth into your flesh, pulling more tiny noises from you. God, he’s fucking missed you, so goddamned much.

You chase him when he pulls away, grabbing his lower lip between your teeth, making him groan into your mouth, giving you a hungrier kiss the second time round. He pushes you backwards, your boots tangling with his and suddenly you’re a heap of limbs on the ground. You actually laugh and Joel kisses the sound right out of your mouth, licking his tongue along the seam of your lips.

The motion makes you whimper, adjusting yourself beneath him until your thighs are spread either side of his hips, your boots planted on the ground. Everything in him feels white-hot, and he can’t stop kissing you, making up for lost time, pouring his apologies into his kisses, memorizing the way you feel and taste now.

“Joel,” you gasp out when he slides his hand along your jaw, tilts your head back on the wood floor, noses his way down your throat.

“Yeah, baby?” he murmurs into your skin, inhaling you deeply, kissing at your pulse.

“Take me to bed.”

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#my fics #strawberry wine #joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller fluff #joel miller angst #the last of us #the last of us fic #the last of us spoilers #joel miller x oc #joel miller x liv stone

[diazsdimples]

Fuck It Friday!!

Tagged by the ever wonderful @theotherbuckley and @wikiangela 💙

Finally got more of the Eddie/Buck first meeting done! Hope you enjoy!

Buck lets his eyes travel over Eddie again (listen, the guy is hot and he just hugged Buck, he’s only human) and it’s then that he notices the LAFD Fire Academy logo on the back of his shirt. In the back of his head, he can hear Carrie’s voice excitedly saying, “his Daddy’s gonna be a firefighter too!”. “H-hey, are you at the academy?” Buck asks, twisting his fingers with a sudden wave of anxiety. Eddie quirks an eyebrow, which looks, frankly, adorable. “Yeah, why?” “Well I – uh – I just finished my probationary year with the 118 and was thinking if you ever needed any help, with like training or whatever, that I’d be happy to lend a hand?” Buck’s got no idea why his heart rate has suddenly ratcheted up in pace, but then Eddie looks at him with a sort of tentative hopefulness, as if he’s deciding if he allows himself to accept help for the first time in his life, and Buck’s stomach does some very unhelpful backflips. “You’re in the LAFD?” Eddie asks, “with the 118?” His brows furrow and Buck’s heart catches in his throat. Is this weird? Is Buck being too much? Eddie looks like he’s thinking and then suddenly his face clears, a grin breaking through and he points at Buck. “Wait a second, you’re Buckley?” It’s definitely not what Buck was expecting, and he stands there dumbfounded for a second before finding his voice. “Uh, yeah?” he says eloquently. Eddie tips back his head and laughs, and Buck’s more confused than ever. “Oh man, you’ve got quite the reputation at the academy Buck” Eddie chuckles. Buck’s pretty sure his brain has been replaced with a family of small crickets. A reputation? Doing what? He nervously thinks back to his early days with the 118, of how he’d steal fire trucks to sleep with women (hey, he couldn’t exactly bring them home, right? And a man has… urges) and wonders if that managed to trickle its way down to the academy. “Uh,” he laughs nervously, “what do you mean by a reputation? I didn’t –“ “You’ve got like, all the records on the scenarios and exercises, man, I’m constantly trying to beat them, but I just can’t get there. And now I know you did all that whilst also being a single father? Jesus.” The way Eddie’s looking at Buck, almost with a sort of reverence, is absolutely insane. He’s hugely relieved that Eddie wasn’t about to bring up his old nickname of “firehose” (coined by one of the other academy members after catching him in the showers with one of the guest speakers) and if he’s totally honest, just a tiny bit smug that no one else has managed to beat his records. “Well, ya know, work hard, reap the rewards, right?” he replies, instantly realising that he sounds like a cocky ass. “Right, right,” Eddie says distractedly, pulling out his phone. He looks back up at Buck, hesitating for a second, before stretching out his phone to him. “Hey do you think I could maybe get your number? I just – I could probably do with a bit of help with my certification tests, and if Christopher and Carrie are going to be friends then it might be –“ “Of course!” Buck grabs Eddie’s phone, maybe a little eagerly, and keys in his number. He contemplates setting his nickname to “Sexy Firefighter Dad” but decides against it. Makes him feel too old anyway, that’s something Bobby would go by. When he finally hands Eddie’s phone back to him, he’s blushing furiously. It’s been years since someone asked for his number for anything other than sexual. “Thanks man,” Eddie says appreciatively and Buck waves him off. “No problem. Who knows, we might end up real close.” He winks cheekily and is delighted to see Eddie’s cheeks pink up a little.

tagging @daffi-990 @watchyourbuck @hippolotamus @cal-daisies-and-briars @puppyboybuckley @disasterbuckdiaz @thewolvesof1998 @rainbow-nerdss @spotsandsocks @jesuisici33 @fortheloveofbuddie @wildlife4life @evanbegins @buckbuckgoose @bucksbackwardcap @exhuastedpigeon @tizniz @smilingbuckley @housewifebuck @steadfastsaturnsrings @slightlyobsessedwitheverything @nmcggg and anyone else who wants to join

#btw I imagine all the mums at pickup watching this with interest #just ya know #cause they're hot #single dads au #single dad buck #buddie #eddie diaz #911 abc #911 buddie #evan buckley #911verse #911 fanfic

[mlmxreader]

Not Alone, Never Alone | Eddie Brock/Venom x gn!reader

Anonymous asked: Eddie Brock: Hello!!! May I please ask for a work using the following prompts for Eddie Brock X non-binary, male, or gn!Reader: "I don't wanna be alone" Thank you 🖤🖤! 🐍anon

summary: Eddie's not exactly best pleased to be answering the door in the middle of the night, but when he sees who it is, he can forgive the interruption to his peace.

tws: swearing

support your fanfic writers by reblogging what you read & enjoy

It was so late, the skies were a bleak bleached grey and the stars were nowhere to be seen, the constant whooshing rush of traffic swept by the window and the soft pitter patter of rain hit the panes between each car.

Eddie wasn’t expecting a visitor so late at night, but something about the doorbell ringing told him that it couldn’t have been good; Venom noticed it too, the rise in Eddie’s heartbeat, the valves slowly opening to allow adrenaline to begin pumping through his veins. Eddie was on edge, extremely so, unsettled and almost panicked as he grasped the door handle and slowly turned it, the wood creaking with each millimetre.

Eddie looked around when he could, and all adrenaline and panic and edge dropped from his shoulders the second his eyes met yours, a sigh of relief leaving his open mouth. He stepped aside, automatically welcoming you in and gently closing the door and locking it behind you.

“Everything okay?”

You shrugged, sitting on his sofa and shaking your head. “No.”

Furrowing his brows, Eddie put his hands against the inside of his upper arms as he frowned, swallowing thickly. “You wanna talk?”

“I don’t wanna be alone anymore,” you said quietly, shaking your head again, wringing your hands between your knees as you sniffled. “And I’m sick and tired of coming home to a man who only thinks of me as his own personal- forget it, I shouldn’t have come.”

“Stay,” he said softly, crossing the room and sitting down beside you, his arm outstretched across the back of the sofa as he dared to offer a soft and broken smile. “Please? It’s late, I don’t wanna think what’d happen if you walked home.”

“I walked all the way here without issue,” you pointed out.

“Just stay,” Eddie whispered, shaking his head. “We’ll make sure you’re never alone.”

You shot him a look, and then dared to scoff as you caved in, leaning over and resting your head against his shoulder. “Promise?”

“We promise,” he nodded.

“We can take turns,” Venom grumbled from inside his head. “I want Saturdays, though. Saturday is takeaway day.”

Eddie wanted to scoff and roll his eyes and tell the symbiote that it was a little more than about takeaway, but he couldn’t bring himself to as he cleared his throat. “Venom says we’ll take turns. But he wants Saturdays.”

“I was kinda hoping you’d have Saturdays,” you dared to laugh weakly. “I miss when we used to have takeaways every week and watch a shit film… remember? We’d end up tangled in bed after gorging ourselves on pizza and other shit, watch something so bad it was hardly watchable… I miss that.”

He nodded, not wanting to admit it but knowing that he did, too; Venom was confused, though. There was something wrong with Eddie, but he couldn’t pinpoint what.

His host’s heartbeat was elevated, skipping a beat once, he was producing sweat on his palms and his stomach was in knots; it was like he was nervous, but in a nice way. Like he was excited yet anxious for something. Venom couldn’t understand, although he was trying to.

Something was going on with Eddie, but Venom had no fucking clue what; he wasn’t sick, he wasn’t hurt, he wasn’t panicking. It was something to do with you, but it wasn’t something bad. It was like… it was like Eddie had a crush on you.

“Maybe I can work something out with Venom,” Eddie said, his voice only slightly shaking. “And we can have our Saturdays back.”

You nodded, taking Eddie’s hand in your own and mapping out the scars and calluses and little marks with the tip of your finger, making him smile and relax as he watched you.

“I’m sorry I woke you up so late,” you murmured. “I didn’t mean to, I just… I didn’t know where the fuck else I was meant to go.”

He nodded, swallowing thickly as he let out an only slightly shaky breath. “I get it, don’t worry… does he know you’re here?”

“I wouldn’t chance it,” you told him. “He’s got Micro, who can hack into pretty much fucking everything. I wiped everything of my fingerprints, scrubbed every hard drive so he wouldn’t even think I’m here.”

“Frank wouldn’t hurt you,” Eddie murmured. “Would he?”

“Me? No,” you shook your head. “But you? I don’t wanna take that risk. You saw what he did to Marc when I decided to go on holiday with him for a few days after his dad died… he gets on my nerves. One minute, he’s this really hot, possessive, type who can’t leave me alone. The next thing, I’m coming back to a flat and it’s like he’s never even stepped foot in there before - all his shit gone, his smell scrubbed from the furniture, he’ll be gone for fucking days and… and even when he’s not, even when he’s with me, I still feel so fucking alone, Ed.”

“Do you feel alone now?”

“No,” you licked your lips, biting down on your bottom lip like you were trying to hold back tears. “And that’s the sad part - when I’m with you, I don’t feel alone at all. I know I shouldn’t, I told Frank I’d always be loyal but…”

You pulled away, kneeling on the sofa and looking at his lips for a moment; you couldn’t stop yourself, leaning in and capturing him in a kiss. Eddie didn’t even hesitate, kissing you back as he cupped your jaw with one hand, even daring to smile a little. You smiled back before you broke the kiss and pulled away.

“Then don’t be loyal to Frank,” Eddie told you with a shake of his head.

You looked at his lips again, clearing your throat as you nodded. “Fuck Frank.”

“Exactly.”

“Fuck, Ed,” you breathed out. “What am I gonna do?”

“Whatever you want,” he said gently. “If you want, I can get us a takeaway, and we can sit on the bed and watch a shit film.”

“Yeah,” you sighed. “I’d, uh, I’d like that.”

“Wait here,” he told you, kissing your forehead before he wandered into his bedroom. You presumed he was grabbing his phone, until you heard a high pitched squeal of, “I fucking did it! I kissed them!”

#mlem writes #eddie brock x reader #eddie brock x you #eddie brock x y/n #eddie brock x yn #eddie brock imagine #eddie brock imagines #eddie brock oneshot #eddie brock one shot #eddie brock fanfiction #eddie brock fanfic #eddie brock fic #eddie brock #venom x reader #venom x you #venom x y/n #venom x yn #venom imagine #venom imagines #venom oneshot #venom one shot #venom fanfiction #venom fanfic #venom fic #venom #marvel x reader #marvel x you #marvel x yn #marvel x y/n #marvel imagine