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katsu28 · 1 year

Note

🍭 lollipop could u do 31. (sudden spells of dizziness disturbing their day) from list 5 for steve pls? ty 🫶

ofc love!! thank you for requesting <3

steve harrington x reader, 1k, mentions of injury but nothing specific

Steve didn’t regret having the everlasting shit beat out of him more times than, since he was doing it to protect the people he loved (and the entirety of Hawkins), but goddamnit if it didn’t fuck him up in all sorts of ways. Mentally and emotionally, yes, but the worst one was how it messed with him physically.

Because of how many times he’d had his bell rung, he could barely hear out of his left ear and see out of his left eye, his head and whole body hurt to no end all the damn time, and more recently (more frustratingly too), he began having dizzy spells.

He didn’t tell anyone at first, not even you, having been rather accustomed to dealing with his problems on his own, but the more frequent they came along, the harder it was for him to hide them.

Fast forward to now, Steve’s dizzy spells were the worst they’d ever been. Maybe it was from a lack of sleep lately, or he hadn’t been drinking enough water, he didn’t know, but the room started spinning every single time he’d stood up so far today. He’d managed to keep the first few under wraps, but he was getting increasingly frustrated.

“Hey, Stevie, can you help me grab the paper towels? Someone put the new roll on the top shelf!” And by someone, you meant Steve, who always “accidentally” kept important things on the higher shelves so he could swoop in and save the day when you couldn’t reach them.

Steve smiled to himself. “I have no idea who would do such a thing!” He called back, tossing the magazine he was flipping through off to the side and going to roll off the bed.

Big mistake.

As soon as he did, he was hit with what had to be the most head spinning, stomach turning, ear ringing bout of dizziness he’d had to date.

“Jesus Christ,” He breathed, squeezing his eyes shut. One hand braced himself on the bedside table, while the other came to drag through his hair, fisting the strands at the nape of his neck before letting them flop back into place. He took a few deep breaths, willing the room to stop spinning quickly so he could go help you.

“Steve?” Your soft voice sounded out from the hall, and he opened eyes to see you hovering in the doorway, brows pinched in concern. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, fine.” He replied quickly. Too quickly. You didn’t believe him one bit.

“Are you sure?”

“One hundred percent sure.” He confirmed, aiming a reassuring smile at you. “How bout those paper towels, hm?”

He knew his cover had been blown the second he took a step in your direction, when the entire room lurched sideways yet again, and he lost his balance, stumbling on his feet big time. You were at his side in an instant, steadying him by his forearms.

Your brows furrowed, eyes scanning his whole body for any sign of what could’ve made him pitch like that but coming up empty.

“I’m okay, I just moved too fast. Lost my balance for a second.”

“Steve…”

“What? I’m fine, Y/N.” He snapped, growing instantly guilty when you flinched the slightest bit at his harsh tone.

“Why are you being so defensive?”

“I’m not being defensive!” Even that sounded extremely defensive, and you both knew it. Steve inhaled sharply, dragging a hand down his face. “Sorry. I’m not trying to be defensive, I’m just…frustrated.”

“Frustrated? Why, baby?” Your voice turned hushed, gaze softening at his defeated tone.

“I’m all kinds of messed up, sweetheart.” He sighed, squeezing his eyes shut. You tilted your head curiously at him, rubbing your hand up and down his arm soothingly. “I get dizzy a lot. And, uh, usually I can deal with them on my own, but they’ve been getting worse lately. A lot worse.”

“Oh, Steve,” You murmured, feeling your heart ache for the poor boy. You’d had your fair share of pain and trauma from the whole saving the world thing, but it was nothing compared to what Steve endured time and time again.

“I’m sorry for not telling you.” Steve’s chin dropped towards his chest, dejected gaze aimed at his feet. “I know—I know we’re supposed to be a team, and tell each other everything but I…I really thought I had a hang on them. I don’t.”

Steve was always the one who took care of everyone else. Need a ride somewhere? Call Steve. Need someone to rant to? Call Steve. Need someone to coax the neighborhood cat out of a tree because you scared it all the way up there trying to see if weed worked the same as catnip? That one was Eddie and only happened once, but still, call Steve.

He was so used to putting everyone else before himself—so used to everyone relying on him, that he forgot that he could always rely on you.

“Hey, no. You never have to be sorry with me, Steve. We’re in this together, yeah?” You insisted, looping your arms around his neck. “I’m the one who should be sorry for making you feel like you couldn’t come to me about this.”

Steve shook his head vigorously, squeezing you tight. “If I’m not allowed to be sorry, you’re not allowed to be sorry.”

“Okay. No sorrys here, from either of us.”

“No sorrys.” He repeated, nodding once. No sorrys, but an endless amount of support, however and whenever Steve needed it. Whether that meant going to doctors to see if these dizzy spells could be remedied, or changing around your lifestyles to make things easier on him, you’d do it for Steve.

He’d do the same for you.

“Just so you know, I’ll be your human crutch if I have to.” You offered, tilting your chin up at him. Steve snorted, rolling his eyes playfully. “Oh, don’t pretend like you wouldn't like that! Get to drape yourself all over me like you do when you're drunk.”

“I don’t do that!”

“Ask Robin. Or Eddie, or Nancy, or—”

“Okay, okay, maybe I do. But it’s only because I love you.”

“And I love you too. Otherwise I'd drop your wasted ass on the nearest couch and come home.”

“...thanks.”

#almost done with my 1k writings hehe #and thank god too bc i am starting to run out of writer fuel #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x you #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington fluff #stranger things #joe keery #kait celebrates 1k!

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mystk · 2 months

Text

Evil’s Hero

Chapter one!! (More to come soon)

Made in collaboration with @urfavcalli

18+ Only.

English isn't our first language

🌙 = Muzans POV

☀️= GN insert POV

🕰️= Flashback

(Contains; hurt/comfort, slight gore, physical torture, basements (scary), kidnapping, savior complex, waterboarding, sedation, non-consensual sedation, cigarette burns,

Trans-male Muzan, threesome, praise kink, co-dependent Muzan, Hero complex, Muzan is just a little fella, flashbacks, hydrophobia, electrocution, shock collars, comfort sex.)

Kink warning: Torture, Pet play, Bondage, Asphyxiation, Degradation, Praise, Slight Waterboarding, Kidnapping, Collar, Non-con, Cage, Burning, Whipping, Threesome, Femdom, Humiliation, Cockwarming, Aftercare, Punishments.

Couple; GN reader / Muzan / Female BC we love a good femdom

(None of these things are endorsed by us! We do not write this in a kinky way, this is just being used as a base for the whole “mentally broken” aspect.)

Two people simultaneously wrote this please untwist your panties and don't comment hate!! 🐡🐡🐡🐡🐡🐡🐡🐡🐡🐡🐡🐡🐡🐡🐡🐡

🌙

I’m only vaguely aware of how badly my body aches, the sticky feeling of blood on my skin.

My mind is fuzzy, and I can barely keep my eyes open.

Something in the back of my head is telling me to run, some primal instinct that keeps warning me about danger approaching.

But why should I care? I'm so tired. It couldn't hurt to just close my eyes for a second, could it?

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☀️

I glance back, watching my girlfriend put a bullet through that sick-fucks head. We’ve been on his trail for months now, and I'm just glad we can go back home now. She turns and grins at me “I got the final blow, you're cooking dinner tonight!”. I fake scowl, ruffling her hair and laughing.

And then we hear it, well, she hears it. A small sniffling noise penetrates the silence of the kitchen.

She grimaces and looks at me.

“Sounds like another one of his victims in the basement.”, She sighs. I glance towards what I assume is the basement door and approach it, stopped only by her hand on my shoulder. “We don't know what's down there.”. I grin, looking back at her; “We won't till we go look!”. I shout, and open the door.

The stairs are creaky, but the noise has silenced.

I'm hardly halfway down the stairs when I see it, barreling down the rest of the flight to kneel by his side, as my girlfriend approaches us.

“Fuckin’ hell.” She mutters, looking horrified.

I'm quick to pry open his eyes, staring at the blown-out pupils with a grimace. “He’s alive, just sedated.” I inform her, a relieved look on her face.

“Poor thing.” she tuts, brushing a bloody, matted, black strand of hair out of his face.

–––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

🌙

I wake up in somebody's arms. He hasn't taken me out of the basement before so it's a tad bit surprising. I don't have the energy to fight him, though.

It's embarrassing really, I didn't even notice I was crying till I felt some of the dirt on my face dampen.

I hear water running. Wait- running water ?

I know it's futile deep down, but I do my best to get out of his grip, screaming (As loud as my damaged vocal chords let me, anyways), and desperately trying to wiggle out of his strong grip.

–––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

☀️

I try my best to hold him still gently. “Hey buddy, it's okay.”. I'm not the best at soothing people but I'm trying.

“Sir? PLEASE I'VE BEEN GOOD-” His voice is high and panicked; I cringe, thinking about what it could mean.

“Hey, it's okay- you're okay.” I try my best to be soothing but it only seems to add to his panic, he kicks and screams and fucking bites me.

This kid has a death grip on me. He won’t let go for anything. “Hey! Let him fucking go!” my girlfriend screams while she tries to wrestle him off of me.

When she finally pins him down, he keeps thrashing around on the tile, struggling with what was left of his strength to get free from her grasp, ‘’Jesus christ, calm down kiddo-’’ it takes him a second, but he pauses looking around as his eyes widen. ‘’W-wha- who are you.’’ His voice is quiet and timid, but endearing in its own way. She sighs, loosening her grip on him. ‘’You’re safe, he’s dead.’’

–––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

🌙

Dead?

For a second, everything is blissful, the idea of that sick fuck being dead running through my head over and over again.

He’s DEAD

Does this mean I can go home?

Am I free?

My head feels clear for the first time in months, the numbing fog disappearing from my brain.

I look at the woman holding me down, blinking away tears as my eyes focus-

‘’My name’s [name]’’ she sighs, letting go of me.

The person holding me earlier grimaces, offering a hand to me.

“And my name’s [name]” the other man says, while checking the bath’s temperature. “I think it’s ready for you, kiddo.”.

My eyes go wide when I realize he wants me to take a bath. Before he can say anything else, I sprint out of the bathroom and down a hallway. I immediately get lost, and start checking door handles, looking for an unlocked room.

I hear yelling coming from the bathroom. I think they’re arguing. As soon as I hear a door click open, I run inside and quickly shut the door. Then, I scan my surroundings, looking for a place to hide.

As I hear footsteps get closer to where I am, I start to panic, and the memories come flooding back to me

–––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

Two months ago

–––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

🌙🕰️

‘’Just fucking- GOD!’’ he curses, grabbing a handful of my hair and pulling me back by it- I know I'm crying, but I'm beyond the point of being ashamed of it.

He glares at me and I know ive made a mistake,- ‘’You fucking bitch I was going to go easy on you.’’ he’s yelling in my face and I’m sobbing but- of course he doesn’t care, he’d have to be able to feel for him to care.

He grabs the back of my neck, pushing me into the far too hot water.

And he holds me under the water.

Then I feel it. The electric shocks in the water. He’s starting on a medium voltage, but keeps turning it up after each shock. I’m going to die, I think.

I’m trying to wiggle out of his grip, but there’s no use. My panic rises every second I'm held under the water, my oxygen rapidly depleting.

But before my mind can even start thinking of worst case scenarios, he yanks me out of the water. I stumble back and hit my head on the concrete.

“STOP WIGGLING AROUND YOU USELESS SLUT- Actually, I have a better idea. I’ll make sure you can’t move around.”. He reaches into his drawer and grabs-

–––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

☀️

It takes a second to break down the door, I cringe internally seeing the smaller man curled up on the floor, bawling his eyes out.

‘’Jesus- it's alright kiddo.’’ [name] Soothes, gently cradling him in her arms.

I don’t know why, but I feel a spark of envy ignite within me upon seeing how she cradles him. I do my best to squash it- feeling stupid for even considering being jealous of him. I know she loves me, but I still feel insecure at the sight of her coddling another man.

Soon enough, we’re all back in the bathroom, sitting on the floor beside the bath. The boy is only in his boxers, eyeing the water with a worried look.

She’s staring wide-eyed at the scars and bruises covering his body, her eyes giving away the guilt she feels at not being here sooner- at not being able to save him some of the pain, despite how hard she tries to keep her expression blank.

I can’t even begin to imagine how he got half of the injuries on his body, they’re so intense it's terrifying to see. I’m mad at myself for being jealous of him, realizing now that he didn't even want to be touched- let alone held in the moment.

#angst #muzan kibutsuji #anime #fanfic #fiction #im going insane #kimetsu no yaiba #hurt/comfort #tw torture #tw nightmares #tw flashbacks #demon slayer #sub!male #bottommuzan #collaboration #collab story

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liaromancewriter · 2 years

Text

Handful

Premise: Ethan’s on baby duty and the twins have a surprise for him.

Book: Open Heart (post series) Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Cassie Valentine) Rating/Category: General. Fluff. Words: 710

A/N: This fic was requested by @simbralia, prompt 16 (Person B - being usually the stoic one - somehow managing to evoke a laughing fit in the baby) from this list.

Submission to @choicesjuly2022challenge Day 28 prompt “Kid Fic”. Also submitting to @choicesficwriterscreations Please Be Prompt, week 2 fluff.

Dr. Ethan Ramsey had a certain reputation among his colleagues, peers, and terrified interns alike of being austere, demanding, and a cynical so-and-so on occasion. They said that he’d once ripped apart the AMA president’s research, causing the poor man to resign in disgrace.

But the two pairs of mulish green eyes staring up at him didn’t seem to care about any of that. They were also not impressed by his handling of the situation, pursing their lips and turning their tiny heads away as they (most likely) complained about him to each other in whatever language babies used.

The twins were almost four months old now and the experts called these the enchanted months. As far as he was concerned, those experts hadn’t met the Ramsey twins or else they would have revised their opinion.

He was on baby duty while Cassie went for her first run in a long time. He knew she’d missed running while pregnant and had been chomping at the bit to get out there once she received the all-clear from her doctor.

The twins had been asleep when she left and he had been using the alone time to catch up on the latest journal articles. When he heard their thin cries echo over the baby monitor, he knew the quiet time was over.

Then he made the cardinal sin of being just a few minutes too late to suit them. Their whimpers had turned into full blown wailing by the time he entered the nursery.

Well used to the routine by now, he checked and changed their wet diapers (grateful they had only been wet and nothing else). They wiggled the whole time, apparently punishing him for his tardiness, so that he had to hold them down with one arm.

“Come on, you two,” he said sternly. “You’ve had your fun. Now behave yourselves.”

They continued to troll him, alternating between hitting his forearm with their tiny feet and grumbling at him. So, he quickly completed the task at hand, taping the sides of Sophie’s diaper before repeating the process with Eloise. They settled down enough for him to dress them up in clean onesies, popping the buttons in place with a sigh of relief.

He discarded the soiled clothes and diapers while keeping one eye on the twins as they babbled to each other on the changing table. He noticed how Eloise smiled at her sister while Sophie waved her hands expressively, almost as if telling a story.

Olivia had mentioned once how Cassie and Max had been the same as babies, happy in their own company with a unique way of communicating. As far as Ethan could tell, nothing much had changed as adults.

Lost in thought as he looked out the window, it took him a few minutes to realize the twins had gone quiet. Too quiet. And then the smell hit him. Foul and so pungent that he had to pinch his nostrils closed to prevent it invading his senses.

His litany of curses bounced off the walls making them laugh. Flabbergasted, he stared down at the twins, noting an almost calculating glint in their eyes as they watched him back.

“You couldn’t have done that before I cleaned you up?”

He watched in consternation as their faces scrunched and then they both let out another foul-smelling load. Their peals of laughter soon followed before they turned sideways to face each other, cooing the whole time.

“Christ.” He somehow guessed that this was their way of getting back at him for the ‘behave yourselves’ remark.

Hands on his hips, he surveyed his daughters who were relishing in his discomfort, smiling and giggling, their small bodies vibrating with amusement. And then rolled up the sleeves of his shirt to begin anew the work of getting them cleaned up.

“I've seen that smile before,” he mused, the severity on his face at odds with the amusement in his voice as he bent over them, lifting them by the feet to wipe their bums clean. ��You two are going to be a handful, aren’t you?”

First Eloise and then Sophie shoved a tiny fist into his mouth. And that, as far as they were concerned, was that.

All Fics & Edits: @potionsprefect @trappedinfanfiction @bex-la-get @mysticalgalaxysstuff @genevievemd @choicesaddict5 @jerzwriter @rookiemartin @schnitzelbutterfingers @vi-writes-stuff @coffeeheartaddict2 @quixoticdreamer16 @dorisz @zahrachoices @lucy-268 @a-crepusculo @jamespotterthefirst @ofmischiefandmedicine @headoverheelsforramsey @takemyopenheart @gryffindordaughterofathena @queencarb @crazy-loca-blog @natureblooms24

Ethan & Cassie only: @custaroonie @lady-calypso

@openheartfanfics

#ethan ramsey #open heart #open heart choices #open heart fanfics #playchoices #playchoices fanfics #ethan ramsey x mc #choices fic writers creations #please be prompt #cfwc fics of the week #ethan x mc #open heart fanfiction #ethan ramsey x cassie valentine

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release-the-mccracken · 1 year

Note

please write more bert x quinn bottom bert pleaseeeee

Sure thing! Here ya go

I'm Melting In Your Eyes (Like My First Time)

Rating: Explicit

Ship: Bert McCracken x Quinn Allman

Warnings: Drug use, high sex, drunk sex, loss of virginity, anal sex, bottom Bert, top Quinn, blow jobs, rough sex, unsafe sex, outdoor sex, creampie, dirty talk (kinda)

Words: 3,521

Ao3 link or read below the cut. <3

They were barely in their twenties the first time it happened. Bert figured he would remember that night until the day he died. It had been pretty good, they’d pulled together enough money to get a shitty motel room and dinner that night. Roaches crawled over every surface and Bert could hear a couple fighting three doors down from their room all night, but at least they had a roof over their heads. Rain drilled against the windows and the drawn curtains blocked out every amount of light. Branden and Jepha were curled up asleep in one of the beds, their breathing even and no movement coming from their side of the room. Quinn rested in bed with Bert because it seemed the most natural.

But Bert hadn’t fallen asleep, eyes wide open as he stared at the ceiling and his mind running wild with thoughts of absolutely nothing. He’d been confused when Quinn moved over top of him, his bare skin warm and his breath reeking of the shitty beer they’d all had earlier. His hips fell open awkwardly to let Quinn settle onto him, pressing way too close. Bert didn’t shove him away, though. He simply looked up at Quinn through the darkness, body thrumming hard and definitely not sober enough to be able to keep up with what was going on. His pupils were blown wide and his body didn’t even feel like his own as Quinn leaned down to press a small kiss to his cheek a bit nervously.

“Just let me do this,” Quinn mumbled out and Bert wasn’t sure what ‘this’ was, but he made no moves to stop the other. Bert could feel himself nodding even though he didn’t feel like he was even in his body anymore. The next thing he knew, Quinn was pulling his boxers down his hips and grasping onto his thin waist. Bert had always been insecure about how he looked, always a bit too skinny and a bit too sharp. But now, Quinn was stroking over his skin like he was perfect. “Fuck. You feel like a girl,” Quinn laughed and Bert felt his mouth go bitter. Of course, it wasn’t gay if you told your bandmate he felt like a girl before shoving your cock into him. Bert knew that was unfair. Quinn wasn’t like that. He’d never cared if something was gay or straight, he was just himself. Bert knew that deep down.

“So do you,” Bert breathed out, hands moving up to find Quinn’s soft face. His fingers stroked over the shaved skin there, petting at the baby soft hairs that were beginning to grow back in. Quinn laughed again, soft and airy in his throat as he lined his cock up. It felt gross, wet and spongy despite being hard. Bert didn’t know what it was covered in, but it was tacky and viscous all at once. Maybe a strange mix of saliva, precum, and the cheap travel-sized body lotion the motel left on the counter. “Do it,” Bert wasn’t sure if his words sounded more like a dare or permission, but Quinn seemed to take it as a promise instead. He pressed forward quickly and surely, pushing himself inside slowly but steadily. It seemed to be never ending and Bert breathed a bit harder.

“Jesus Christ,” Quinn breathed once he bottomed out, sounding choked up already. Bert briefly wondered if this was the first time Quinn had ever fucked somebody before, but he didn’t bother asking. It didn’t matter much either way, he figured. If he was a little more sober, Bert would’ve felt embarrassed by the noise that left his own throat at the full feeling. He couldn’t lie and say he’d never gotten curious about his own ass, but a finger up there felt a whole lot different than Quinn’s entire cock. Still, he only adjusted to it for less than a minute before he whispered at Quinn to move. The blonde haired man didn’t need any extra encouragement before he began moving. “You feel so fucking good around me,” He whispered close to Bert’s neck, seeming to be in awe of everything happening.

Bert didn’t say much else, occasionally having a soft noise forced out of him by the force of Quinn’s thrusting. Above him, Quinn made all kinds of noises. Loud and uninhibited, and Bert wondered if he always sounded like this or if being high made him louder. In fairness, Quinn was usually high anyway so that might skew the perception of what was ‘normal’ behavior for him. Bert was happy that Jepha had already passed out and that Branden slept like the dead once he was asleep. He wasn’t sure how he’d explain Quinn pounding him into the mattress or risk them hearing the breathy noises he himself was beginning to let out as Quinn hit his prostate.

“Oh, fuck. Bert,” Quinn groaned after some amount of time. Bert’s perception of time felt so fucked up while he was high, every minute simultaneously feeling like seconds and hours. But at least the drugs made his entire body completely relaxed and pleasure felt even more intense like this. Quinn buried his face into where Bert’s shoulder met his neck and Bert slid his hand up the nape of Quinn’s neck, burying his fingers deep into his hair. “It’s so tight. I’m gonna-” Quinn cut himself off, groaning quietly. He was barely pulling himself out each time he moved, simply jackrabbiting his hips into the other man. He was nearly delirious with how good Bert felt around him.

“You wanna come inside me? Know you do, Quinny. Come on,” Bert breathed out, gripping onto blonde hair a little tighter. He reveled in the way Quinn gasped and seized up, hips stuttering as he finally emptied himself inside of Bert. “There we go,” Bert laughed out a bit too harshly, patting Quinn on the back. He smiled as he heard Quinn panting and whining against the curve of his neck. His fingers pushed up into the back of sweaty blonde hair, cupping the back of his head. “Good job,” He pressed a small kiss to Quinn’s temple and finally began drifting off beneath him.

It started happening more and more after that night. Despite neither of them remembering completely, they both remembered enough that it continued to happen. The first time they did it sober, they were spending the weekend at Bert’s childhood home. It seemed like the best idea ever when Bert snuck into his bedroom where Quinn was lying down, whispering for him to come outside with him. Bert’s parents would kill him if they caught him with a guy, especially underneath their roof, and there were too many people who might wake up if they risked messing around in the house.

Bert felt like he was a teenager again, but getting to have normal teenager experiences for the first time. It felt like he was back to sixteen with how carefree and excited he felt as he snuck out of the house, Quinn following close behind him. They were both laughing as they ran down the small concrete path that led to the forest behind the house. When they were far enough into the woods to not have to worry about being caught, Bert was turning around so abruptly that Quinn was crashing into him. He seemed to anticipate this, grabbing onto Quinn to keep them from knocking their heads into each other.

Quinn didn’t have time to catch up to what was happening before Bert was kissing him. It was rough and messy, and neither could keep themselves from laughing against one another. It felt ridiculous to be fully grown men and to still be sneaking off into the forest to mess around. Quinn couldn’t deny the feeling of butterflies beginning to flutter in his stomach, feeling nervous in a way he hadn’t in a while. For a while, they just stood there and kissed before lowering themselves onto the ground. Bert settled down onto his back, ignoring the wetness spreading over his back due to the grass being dewy. Boxers were easily worked off and Bert pressed a small packet of lube into Quinn’s hand.

“You brought that to your parents’ house?” Quinn teased, taking the packet and beginning to stroke himself with his other hand. It felt weird to jerk off in the middle of the dark forest, kneeling in between Bert’s legs. But he was able to get over how strange it seemed pretty easily, smiling a bit as he watched Bert reaching down to jack himself off shamelessly. That was one thing that he’d quickly learned about Bert. The man had absolutely no shame, especially when it came to sex.

“What can I say? I always wanted a pretty boy to fuck me here,” Bert was grinning up at him, showing far too many teeth. It was intoxicating, contagious like a disease and Quinn found himself grinning back. He didn’t know when his heart had started skipping beats when he looked at Bert, but that was now a thing that happened. “Kinda fantasy fulfillment. Hurry up and stick it in me,” And who was Quinn to argue with that? He helped Bert flip over onto his stomach and he luckily turned without fussing about it. It was awkward trying to get in the right position and they were both laughing by the time they got it just right. But both their laughs died off into moans when Quinn finally got his cock slicked up and began pushing inside of the dark haired man.

“Fuck. You always feel so good,” Quinn managed to say, feeling like he was choking on his own words as he tried to give Bert time to adjust. He’d never had anything up his own ass, but he figured it would be uncomfortable and he’d appreciate getting some time to get used to the feeling. It took all of his willpower to not just start thrusting as soon as he was inside. He hadn’t hooked up a lot in his life, but Bert was by far the best he’d ever had. It was almost painfully tight and burning hot, slicked perfectly by the lube he’d used. “Just let me know when you’re ready for me to start moving,” Quinn murmured out after a few seconds, pressing a kiss to one of Bert’s grass-stained shoulders.

“How are you so fucking long? Feels like you’re playing in my intestines,” Bert rambled off as his body tried to adjust to the feeling of being so full when he was sober. It was a weird feeling, not quite painful, just an uncomfortable and unfamiliar sensation. Maybe it would be easier if Quinn had a smaller cock, but he wasn’t about to complain about the guy he was fucking having a big dick. Quinn himself grimaced a bit at the words, trying to ignore the mental image. “Get your ass moving,” That was the distraction Quinn needed and he didn’t need to be told twice. His hips pulled out slowly, leaving only the head of his cock inside before he shoved back inside roughly. “Fuck, Allman!” Quinn would’ve been concerned at that if Bert hadn’t moaned half of his name out.

“You feel perfect, baby. Perfect little hole for me to fuck,” Quinn murmured out, voice just loud enough for Bert to hear. The words were messing with him more than he wanted to admit. Quinn didn’t usually talk like this, but it was certainly a pleasant change. Sooner than he anticipated, he was pressing a hand back between his thighs and wrapping his fingers around himself. Quinn’s words and movements were quickly making him needy, groaning as he started stroking himself. He tried to match the pace of Quinn’s thrusts, but their movements were always slightly off. Though, he couldn’t bring himself to care too much. “You’re perfect,” The words felt softer than the previous ones had been, less focused on sex and more on themselves, but neither were ready to look too deeply into that.

“Keep going, baby. You feel perfect. Aim a little higher,” Bert rambled out a mess of praises and demands, sounding more desperate as time ticked on. Quinn could understand why. Not only did it feel good, but fucking Bert in the dirt and grass made things feel more primal. More right. It seemed like the only thing that mattered was them. Quinn followed every request as they were given, angling his hips up a bit and yanking Bert back against him harder. Bert gasped out his name as he did so, making Quinn smile and move faster. “Just like that,” He encouraged and Quinn couldn’t keep his eyes open, focusing on the increasingly loud sounds Bert was making and keeping his pace steady.

It felt like hours passed them by like that. Quinn managed to keep up a good rhythm, holding off his own orgasm until Bert finished first. He knew it wouldn’t be much longer, hearing Bert’s hand sounding slicker against himself as he leaked more precum. As odd as it sounded, Quinn knew what noises Bert made when he got closer to finishing. After enough nights of Bert thinking everyone was asleep and some days of him just being fucked up enough to not care who was awake, Quinn could recognize what every sound coming from Bert meant.

He smiled when he was proven right. After a few more thrusts, Bert was letting out a quiet gasp of Quinn’s name and painting the wet grass beneath him. Quinn pressed a kiss to one of the man’s shoulders, burying his face into his sweaty skin as he continued. His hands readjusted on Bert to give himself more leverage. He knew Bert would get oversensitive really quickly and he wanted to finish before that happened. His thrusts were far more shallow now, barely pulling out an inch before he was fucking back into him. It wouldn’t be much longer before he came as well, already feeling so close to getting off and Bert clenching tighter around him made it even easier. Quinn didn’t make many noises when he got off, but he let out a shaky exhale as his movements faltered and he came inside of Bert.

He felt weightless as he slumped down against Bert’s skin a bit, trying to catch his breath and recover. They were both panting together in the grass, the night air a bit chilly now that their skin was so warm and sweating. But neither of them minded. It took all that was in them to not fall asleep there, but Bert knew his parents would freak if they’d seemingly disappeared into the night and they’d lose their minds even more if they found them all tangled together outside. Bert smiled into the dirt, satisfied that he’d gotten what he’d always wanted. He couldn’t imagine doing this with anyone besides Quinn as cheesy as that sounded; he knew it’d always be the most fun with Quinn.

The next time they found themselves in a similar situation, it was far less romantic. Both of them were laughing outside of their bus, nighttime surrounding them. They’d been drinking and smoking all night, and it was all finally catching up to them. Bert knew he was properly messed up when he listened to Quinn laughing and he felt his heart racing pleasantly in response. He managed to keep his thoughts to himself, but he furrowed his eyebrows when Quinn pulled him closer and smiled brightly. It didn’t last very long before Quinn’s hand was pushing him towards the ground.

“Do you seriously think I’m gonna suck your cock?” Bert had laughed when Quinn shoved him down to his knees. His words were more to argue rather than to genuinely say no. He knew if he actually didn’t want to do this, he could just stand up and tell Quinn to fuck off. The bite of his words were mostly from anxiousness, he’d never sucked a guy off before and he really hadn’t planned on it tonight either. “I’m not your fucking girlfriend,” He huffed out dramatically as Quinn shoved his jeans and boxers down his thighs enough to stroke his cock. Somehow, he looked even bigger when Bert was facing him like this, focused completely in on the other man’s dick in front of him.

“You’re pretty enough to be. Just open,” Quinn muttered and maybe Bert was just a sucker for praise. His mouth opened reluctantly before he could even stop it from happening, leaning and leaning until the head slipped inside. It was weird and gross, and nothing like anything Bert had ever done before. He licked at the head awkwardly, trying to figure out what he was supposed to do. He tried to think about what he liked when he was having someone go down on him and tried to repeat that on Quinn. “Fuck, yeah. You’re doing really good,” Quinn murmured out. Bert knew it was mostly being fucked up that was clouding Quinn’s judgment, making everything feel ten times better. Maybe he just didn’t get his dick sucked a lot and anything would feel good to him. Bert decided he found it very endearing.

The minutes felt like hours as Bert bobbed his head slowly, trying to ease himself into the feeling. Quinn luckily wasn’t pushy, didn’t grab at Bert’s head or thrust his hips up. His fingers simply slipped into greasy hair, giving himself something to hold onto rather than pushing at him. He was louder when he was high than when he was sober, breathy gasps and quiet moans pulling themselves free from his throat whenever Bert moved in a pleasurable way. It was encouraging for the man on his knees, making him feel like he was doing something right and spurring him to continue. When he was high, his mind latched onto something and refused to let go of it. And right now, Bert was fully focused on trying to get Quinn to come like this and to prove that he was good at giving head after all.

Precum tasted gross every time more leaked out, but the alcohol in Bert’s body numbed him to the taste. It made it more tolerable and let him focus on drawing more sounds out of the blonde haired man. He sucked a bit harder, focusing on the head of Quinn’s cock. He’d always loved playing with his own when he got off, so he figured it was safe to assume Quinn would like it too. He ended up being right, Quinn whining and rocking his hips up a bit at the feeling. He shouldn’t be as obsessed with Quinn’s noises as he was, but he felt proud that he was the one causing him to make those sounds. It was an odd sense of accomplishment rising up in his chest.

He was finally getting into it, but his jaw was beginning to ache. Bert was used to screaming, to laughing, to grinning like a lunatic. He wasn’t used to having someone’s cock in his mouth while he sucked them off, though. It was leaving an odd sense of soreness that he was sure would only be worse in the morning. For a moment, he began to pull away from Quinn. Before he could get too far, Quinn’s fingers tangled tighter into his hair and kept him pressed down against him. Bert felt panic rising up in his chest, but a few moments of Quinn rocking up into him softly, warmth and bitterness was filling his mouth. It was thick and slimy, and easily the grossest thing Bert ever experienced.

Bert held it in his mouth, feeling like he might puke if he tried to swallow it. And the last thing he wanted was to puke out a mess of alcohol and Quinn’s come. He climbed to his feet off of the dirt and his knees hurt a bit from being pressed into the hard ground for so long. Quinn was grinning at him, seeming blissed out and endeared by Bert. He figured it was easy for Quinn to feel giddy and happy when he’d just gotten off. It irritated him a little bit, but he couldn’t bring himself to feel genuinely angry at the other man. He’d never been good at staying mad at him for very long.

Quinn tried to kiss him, wet and open-mouthed, but Bert caught his chin between his fingers before he could. He was grinning as he spit Quinn’s own come back into his mouth, pushing away from him and heading back to their bus before Quinn’s mind could catch up to what was going on. He felt proud of himself, so much so that he couldn’t even hear what Quinn was yelling at him. For a few hours after, Quinn would sulk around and be pissed off about what happened. But after a while, he’d finally crawl into bed with Bert and pretend that nothing had even happened. And Bert wanted to laugh, wasn’t that just a perfect summary of their entire relationship?

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diamondmeadow · 6 months

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untitled #2

just a sirius black snippet that i headcanon for my au rp server. suppose it's rather metaphorical, so might be a tad bit annoying to read but oh well.

happy birthday, you brilliant fictional man (even if you are a bit of an arshole and a sad man in my rp) -----------------------------------------------

What if your whole life has been about living on the edge between losing yourself and going mad or pushing everything that should be the closest to you away just to be yourself?

What if your whole life has been about making this decision?

What if your whole life has been about escaping this impossible choice? Which honestly doesn’t feel like a choice at all. It’s an ant crawling along the edge of the grass stem about to be blown to one side or the other by wind. An ant hardly can manipulate elements, can it? No wonder after a while there’s not much fight left in the ant. Flight becomes the only answer. But typically, ants are wingless species.

What if the only way out was simply abandoning it all?

Sirius is tired.

He has lived in the state of high alert since he attempted to produce his first intentional memory ever. It was supposed to appear across the back of his eyelids as he closed his eyes back when he was 4 years old when his nanny asked him to try to recall his happiest moment with his family. For the life of his he could not think of a single instance. Odd.

Sirius is 18 years old, and he is so, so tired. He’s rather sure 18-year-olds shouldn’t be this tired.

So he runs.

Sirius runs from his mother, from his father, from his brother, and from every one friend he has ever made. He runs from everything he’s ever known. From the only life that has ever been known to him. Because he despises every single second of the balancing in it. Everything hurts. He despises the idea of being an ant.

Sirius runs towards something he barely has any idea of. Does it even exist? Because how can he know for sure? He’s never seen it, never experienced it. It is all one big wild guess. About things that could be. About freedom of thought. About freedom of act. Just a mirage of something that he is perhaps able to glimpse in those few instances he leaves Eton against all the rules (just to be forced back under the kind of threats that his 13, 14, 15, 16, 17-year-old head can hardly understand in their full gravity until they are -quite literally- hitting him in the gut, or leaving him starved, or without any human contact for days on end.)

At first, it’s overwhelming. It’s like a first shot of heroin, well, how Sirius imagines it must feel since he has never tried it. There’s a pleasurable, euphoric sensation running through his body when he finally doesn’t have to look behind his shoulder every time he makes a decision based on what he truly wants. There’s a strange sense of well-being. Relief. Safety. Endorphins.

All of this is so new. Sirius doesn’t know what to do with this high. With this feeling of the path underneath his feet where both of them fit firmly. He feels no stress of balancing the tightrope. For the first time in his life, he isn’t exhausted. And it’s tremendous. Exquisite. It’s all super. His new friends, the school, the music, life, the life.

Well, it’s short-lived. Ironic. Like the heroin high. Because that’s how it works, doesn’t it? It’s not all just song and dance. A stroll in a rose garden. He should have known. He finds out the moment he gets to know Remus. Who’s a storm but can he be a port? Who’s a wide-open ocean but can he be a boat? Who’s a friend but can he be more? And once again, it’s the blade of grass, it’s the rim of a glass, if only it was possible to stay in some sort of impasse. But it’s not. Deny, balance, fight. Sirius is an ant, a tiny, miniscule, bloody weak. He tries to shoot up a new dose. A dose of school work, and tattooing sessions, and design work, and live gigs, and sex with people he is sometimes lucky to care about a bit.

Christ, he’s terrible at balancing. He sucks at it. And it’s a learnt response really, the fight or flight scenario, Pavlov would be proud. Last time it took him 18 years, this time it’s only 4.

Sirius is 22 years old and he is tired. And maybe 22-year-olds can get this tired, but he wouldn’t know because it’s his first time being 22.

So he runs. Because that’s all he knows to do to deal with a situation that is blowing him away. Ants are but fragile beings after all.

At first it feels good. But it’s a proven fact that the more you shoot up, the shorter the period of elation and bliss. It’s really, really not fair how short it is this time. He is here and there. One new place after another, but the more he seeks that thrill of freedom of thought, freedom of act, the one thing that helped before, the less it works. And it’s months, then weeks, then days, then the relief never comes and he is stuck, frozen in one spot, a deer in headlights. Physically moving, yes perhaps, but he might as well be still.

Five years gone by. Five years is a long time to be in a headlock of your past.

Sirius is 27 and could it be he’s less than an ant now? He only vaguely remembers what it is to live a life, the one he thinks he was imagining he was running to when he left his family. He questions whether he has ever even gotten a true taste of it. He doesn’t know what it really looks like. He thinks, ponders, reflects, and this time tries to force it all onto the backs of his eyelids, fuck the happy, he just needs something. What shows up is regret.

He wants to say sorry to his brother, to his father, to his mother, to all the friends he has ever made, to Remus.

Ants live in colonies.

There’s an article he finds on the internet that says that according to a new study ants cannot live without their peers. It reports that in the experiment ants died after about 6 days of isolation, whereas the socially integrated controls lived for up to 66 days. Sirius thinks about the article often.

Sirius packs. He doesn’t run this time. He goes back. Home? Perhaps it is okay to retrace the steps from one colony to the other. Perhaps that’s how he’ll be able to find out what life really is, what freedom of thought, freedom of act really looks like. Perhaps the thing he should have done long time ago was not trying to tiptoe in the wind, maybe he should have grabbed the division line with both his hands and cling to it and try to reconcile both sides instead of perform some kind of sick mental gymnastics. Perhaps. He takes a deep breath when he arrives in the city he fled so long ago. He’s but a little ant. But perhaps that’s okay.

#marauders #sirius black #wolfstar #harry potter #fanfiction #drabble #marauders fanfiction #remus lupin #marauders au #hogsmeade central #diamondmeadow writes

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toointojoelmiller · 9 months

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please don't go: a last of us fic

chapter 9

after David / Silver Lake / post-episode 8

angst, Joel & Ellie bonding, 99% canon compliant

rating: mature - content warnings re: s/a, violence, more

ch 1 | ch 2 | ch 3 | ch 4 | ch 5 | ch 6 | ch 7 | ch 8 | ch 9 | ch 10

link to whole story (work in progress) on AO3

----

He shoves open the door to find there’s no one else inside - just Ellie, still on the ground, tiny inside the sleeping bag. She’s hunched forward a bit, shoulders rounded, holding her arms tight against her stomach. Most of her hair is loose from her ponytail now - hanging in her face.

“Joel,” She’s sobbing.

The door slams closed behind him and he nearly throws the rifle into the corner as he rushes forward, falling down hard on his knees next to her.

“I’m right here,” he breathes. What the hell was he thinking. “You’re okay.” He takes her little face in his hands. Wishes he could hold it forever.

She clutches onto his arms. “I was - you were gone.”

Goddammit. “I’m sorry -” He needs to hold her - keep her in one piece. He moves closer to wrap her loosely in to his chest - can’t pull her in tight like he wants to - doesn’t want her to hurt more. Doesn’t want to scare her.

He briefly wishes the pain in his side was harsher - deserves to be squirming, writhing under it.

She’s shaking hard, keeps trying to get words out against her crying - “Please -” she wails, “don’t leave me -”

“I’m not leavin’ you, Ellie” - he’d do anything for her to believe it - “I swear. I’m - that’s not gonna happen again, you hear me? I’m sorry - I was just outside - shoulda woke you, I’m -”

She’s scrambling to get her legs untangled from the sleeping bag as she pulls away from him, ending up on her hands and knees as she gags. He holds back some of the hair hanging in her face and rubs a hand on her back cautiously - she’s letting out groans - pain - body lurching, splashing watery bile on the floor.

And even then, she’s afraid of it - “Sorry,” she whines in between heaves, “Please - don’t go -”

Joel thinks about the look he’d put in her eyes back in Jackson, when he told her she wasn’t his, that he wasn’t hers - can feel, like it’s happening now, her little hands shoving at his chest as she laid everything bare, in that brave way she has - “-died, or left me - everybody fucking except for you -” She’d told him she was scared, then - and he’d walked away, left her alone.

And how easily she forgave him for it - took him back like he was good for anything.

“I’m -” she sobs, “I keep - h- he-”

She seems to lose her words. Hyperventilating now. Spinning into a full blown panic attack and he has no clue how to help. Would do anything to fix this.

“Shh, I’m here.” He tells her, “I’m not going anywhere.”

“They-” she says after she heaves again - nothing coming up anymore. She’s spitting her words out in pieces - “They were b-butchering - them - they were gonna - eat me -”

Jesus fucking Christ.

“Breathe, Ellie,” he begs. Her air is coming in gulps. His own breaths are shallow. He can feel his eyes stinging.

“Just keep breathin’ - I got you. I’m not gonna let anything happen to you, baby, alright?” He’ll say it as many times as he needs to for her to hear it. Just wishes it was a promise he could keep.

He thinks about not being able to protect the people he needs to keep safe. How the feeling of it has never really left him since it crawled into his skin in that field in Texas, the light leaking out of him as Sarah’s body cooled - it burrowed down inside of him, coming awake from time to time to gnaw. Hollowing him out a bit at a time.

Her arms are shaking under her, and he’s worried they’ll give out. She seems to be done throwing up for now - he risks trying to coax her back to sitting, putting his hands lightly on her arms and tugging back - she moves easily, falling in against him again when she gets upright, and he puts his arms around her.

He looks down to her face, raises his hand and tries to brush some of her hair away from where it’s sticking to her tears.

“Joel,” she sobs in a high, sad voice. “We have to go, we - they’re gonna f-find us, we c-can’t stay here - I can’t breathe -”

“I’ve got you,” he keeps repeating.

“We have to leave,” she says as she presses her face against his shirt. “Please, we have to -"

“We’re ok- I’m taking care of things, Ellie, we’re safe - shh, baby girl, you’re ok -”

There’s nothing else he can offer her. She cries against him long enough for his legs to go numb - he shifts awkwardly until he can reposition to sit down fully - keeps his hand cradled against her head.

Sarah would get scared and wake up crying in the night sometimes when she was young (she was only ever young). He’d curl up with her - make a spot in the stuffed animal pile she kept at the corner of her bed then - sometimes just lay on top of them as he hugged her - little ringlets brushing his neck and face as she clung to him. She’d always needed a nightlight and he was grateful for it then - the warm pinky-purple glow letting him soak her in while she slept. Sometimes he just couldn’t bring himself to leave - would stay there the rest of the night, sleeping next to her.

Sarah afraid of something she saw on TV - Ellie scared for her life, of being hunted - which she had been - it's far from the same, but it's an echo of it - her going from tense and trembling to soft in his arms.

Ellie simply runs out of energy, he thinks - that’s all that brings her sobbing to a stop. Just too worn out and hurt to continue - loud, panicked pleading turning into crying - then sniffles and shaky breaths.

“My head h-hurts,” she whispers into his chest. “Everything hurts.”

“I know,” he says, “Don’t have to do anything today - we’re just going to take it easy.”

He holds her in the quiet for a few more minutes before she speaks again.

“Where did you go?”

“I went -” he clears his throat so he can talk, mouth going dry, “- was putting traps out." He’s so furious with himself it’s hard to keep his voice steady. “For game. Need to get us some food, but I - I didn’t want to wake you - with how much you're hurtin’. Didn’t know how far I’d have to go, and - doesn’t matter - I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that to you.”

“It’s ok,” she mumbles. “I’m sorry, I - I’m - I think I’m - going crazy.”

He has to pull back a bit, now, to look at her - needs to make sure she is hearing him. Her eyes are red, puffy - the swelling around her nose - the blooming black eye - a new bruise coming in on her forehead - face wet with tears. It’s agonizing.

“Ellie, listen to me - you are not goin’ crazy. It’s ok - when,” - he’s no good at this - “- when something - when you’re hurt - it’s - it’s hard for anyone to handle - and it - it takes -”

He’s fucking it up - pulls her close again - gently - tries another approach.

“When Tommy … d’you remember I told you, about him bein’ in the army, back then - and leavin’?”

She nods a little.

“It - it was hard on him. Some things that happened - that he saw. And it - took time, I think, to feel… ok. Used to have a hard time with - got real scared - sometimes a noise, or something he’d see. Had - he had bad dreams sometimes. But it - it got better - just took time - it's normal. Happens to everyone, who - when hard stuff happens.”

He’s leaving out a lot - a few 911 calls - all those years of binge drinking, bar fights. But it’s not as if he can share his own example on living with pain - booze, drugs, get so full of rage you go blind with it - kill with your bare hands - and hope something takes you out before you wake up.

“You hearin’ me, Ellie?” He asks, and she pulls back from him. He lets her go, arms feeling empty.

“I keep - thinking for - for a second, that I’m - s-still there,” she says shakily.

He wonders if it had happened differently - if he’d been stabbed in the chest instead of his gut, and died fast instead of hanging on - wouldn’t she have escaped all of this, then? Nothing to hold her back - she’d have gone straight back to Jackson - safe behind a wall. None of this would have happened to her. She's a fucking kid.

If it wasn’t for Ellie needing him now, he thinks he’d probably just go lay down in the snow and be done with it.

Everything he can think to say to her is so inadequate. He falls back to the same too-late thing he’s told her a hundred times since he found her - “I’m sorry.”

“What are we gonna do?” She mumbles, looking down at her hands.

He thinks she means more than just today.

“Well - you ain’t doing much,” he starts, and she looks up like she wants to say something but doesn’t. “We -” he’s caught between wanting her to know he understands her fear and not wanting to scare her further. “We can’t stay here forever - you’re right - but we can’t go yet. Not like this. Not today. So - you’re gonna stay warm. Drink water. And rest - alright?”

She nods.

“You said your head is hurtin’ - how bad?”

“Bad,” she mumbles. “Kills when I move it.”

Crying and puking are never pleasant - torture with a head injury.

The spike of concentration he had been running off of since he heard her scream is starting to wane - he's getting foggy at the edges. His muscles - lungs - are burning. Shouldn’t be so tired from that small amount of sprinting - he’s so deconditioned it makes him think he was out for multiple days. Longer. It’s so sickening it sends a crush of anxiety into his chest.

But there are things to do - she’s up, and talking - good chance to give her a quick check over, get some more water in her, especially now that she’s puked up what little was in her stomach.

It’s still a little too dark.

“You ok if I flip the light on? I just wanna take a look.”

Predictably, she hates the flashlight in her eyes again - pupils normal - eyes bloodshot. He doesn’t see anything new with her head and neck, other than the puffier nose and bruises he’d noticed earlier.

“Your shoulder?” he asks.

She goes to raise it, winces. “Sore but, ok I think. Not - a ton worse. Stiff.”

Hmm.

“And - everythin’ else? Ribs?” She had been holding her stomach - yesterday, and now.

She just shakes her head. He’s not sure what to make of that.

“Ok”, he flicks off the flashlight, “have some water, if you can, baby - then you should keep restin’. If you can.”

She obediently takes the thermos when he hands it to her and - wipes her mouth with her hand first - sips from it a few times.

“What are you gonna do? If I'm - asleep?” She asks. He hates the anxiety in her voice - but he’s relieved to see she’s starting to shift back and lean against his pack again.

“Not much - save up some energy too. Take a look at the maps maybe - see if there’s a way out of here that makes sense. I want to get some snow - cold - on where you’re hurtin’ in a bit too - take the swelling down a bit. Might help the pain. Don’t worry - I’ll - I won’t go out without letting you know, okay?”

She nods.

“And - I’m hoping we’ll get something in the snares tonight or in the morning,” he says, “tracks looked good. Lots new - so - food, soon, if we’re lucky.”

She nods again, and turns a bit, so she’s facing slightly away from him.

He thinks she’s going to close her eyes, try to sleep again.

It feels like his heart is breaking - the way she just stares - at the wall, through it.

#last of us fic #last of us fanfiction #joel and ellie #ellie and joel #tlou fic

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nimblermortal · 10 months

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I'm depressed and full of self-hatred tonight. You know what's there for me in times of woe? That's right, medieval Norse history!

More specifically, I wanted to ask you guys if this is treachery/regicide or not, because I feel like it has to be but I can't figure out how. So I'm just going to copy pretty much the whole section.

So Magnús is the grandson of my boy Harald Hardradi, and when his dad dies he is of course elected. But not everybody agrees with that, and so wannabe Hákon goes to Trondheim (it's always Trondheim, it's always. Trondheim. Thronders are always up for a rebellion. Also people named Hákon.) and gets himself elected king there, and he's popular enough, due to giving tax cuts to the rich, that people like him.

- side note, one of the concessions he grants is "He also exempted them from having to give Yule presents [to him]" and I know what the brackets are doing there but I am deeply amused by the idea that he got himself elected by exempting everyone from having to get Christmas presents for each other -

---

In the fall King Magnús journeyed north to Kaupang [in Trondheim], and when he had arrived there he went to the royal estate and dwelled there during the beginning of the winter. He kept seven warships in an open space in the ice of the Nith river in front of the royal residence. But when King Hákon learned that King Magnús had arrived in the Trondheim District he came west [north] over the Dofra Mountains to Trondheim and to Kaupang, and took lodging in the Skúli residence below Saint Clemens Church. That had been the old royal residence.

King Magnús thought ill of the great concessions which King Hákon had made to the farmers to win their favor. Magnús considered that it was no less his own property which had been given away, and he was greatly incensed about that and considered himself wronged by his kinsman in thus having so much less revenue than his father and forefathers had, and blamed Thórir [Hákon's co-conspirator] for that. King Hákon and Thórir became aware of this and were apprehensive of what measures Magnús would take. They thought it ominous that Magnús had afloat warships tented and equipped.

In spring, near Candlemas Magnús set out at dead of night and stood out with his ships tented and with lights under the tents, and sailed to Hefrin Head. There they stayed during the night, making great fires up on land.

Then King Hákon and the troops in the town thought that this was done to trick them. He had trumpets blown to call out his forces, and all the people in the town came and collected in one place. But in the morning at dawn, when King Magnús saw the assembled multitude on Eyrar Point, he sailed out of the fjord and south to the Gula Assembly District.

Then King Hákon prepared for proceeding east [south] to Vík. But before that he held a meeting in the town and there made a speech bespeaking the friendship of the people and promising to be friends with all. He said he felt much misgivings as to what King Magnús, his kinsman, intended to do. King Hákon sat on horseback, all ready to start out. Everyone vowed friendship and good will, promising to him their aid, if that was required. And all the multitude followed him out to Steinbjorg Hill [west of town].

King Hákon journeyed up to the Dofra Mountains; and one day, as he rode over the mountains, he followed after a ptarmigan which flew away from him. Then he took deadly sick and expired there on the mountain. His body was brought north and arrived in Kaupang half a month after he had left it. Then all the people of the town, most of them weeping, came to meet the body of the king, because everybody had loved him with heartfelt affection.

The body of King Hákon was interred in Christ Church. King Hákon had reached the age of about twenty-five years. He was one of the chieftains who was most beloved by all the people in Norway. He had traveled north to Permia, had fought there, and won a victory.

#Norsebinge #is it the ptarmigan? is the ptarmigan symbolic?#Hyacinth says these things just happen sometimes and it's true! they do!#but the tone here is just. SO SIMILAR to when Harald Hardradi is cheating at lots #or when somebody got a murder done to them #but that tone is also so flat and dry and prepared for you to miss the joke/intrigue #that I feel like there must be SOMETHING here #did he get ambushed in the mountains? was he poisoned?

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subspencer · 3 years

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spencer has been on a case for a couple weeks now, and he’s coming back tonight. his plane was delayed so he wouldn’t have gotten home until really late so you try your hardest to stay awake by doing different things that google says helps, and eventually you fall asleep reading a book or something and when spencer comes home he sees you and just moves you to get comfy and kisses your head, then you wake up and then some fluff or smut doesn’t matter<33

hiii i wrote this all last night! it’s a bit of both fluff and smut!

wc: 1.4k

According to Google, the scent of pumpkin was known to arouse men, especially when combined with the scent of lavender. So you lit a bunch of different candles, a few of both scents, plus dozens of smaller ones to line the windowsills.

Chocolate is another aphrodisiac, as you’ve heard. You hand-dipped fresh strawberries in the fanciest chocolate money could buy, plating them up next two two champagne flutes and a chilled bottle of bubbly. It was the least you and Spencer deserved after weeks apart.

Everything looked great, until he texted you at nine-thirty in the evening, at the time you were expecting his plane to land.

I’m so sorry, a massive storm came through. Plane never left. We’re getting back on now, hope to land in a few hours.

Well, fuck. You were so prepared for him; all dressed up, glasses already poured, candles lit, and a set of new lingerie on.

But it was only three hours. That’s all that separated you from Spencer, and after so many days, you could manage to busy yourself for a few hours. He was worth the wait.

You passed eighty minutes by watching some tv, another twenty while playing a game on your phone, and twenty more by going back to the tv. Two hours down, one more to go. But you made the fatal mistake of having some of that champagne while you waited, and staying awake seemed harder to do with every passing minute.

With no coffee in the house to keep yourself up, you resorted to the internet again. The first search result was a listicle of tips and tricks:

1. Get Up and Walk Around

Okay, done. And while you walked around, you also accomplished tip number four, “Eat a Healthy Snack to Boost Energy”. With a whole, peeled carrot in one hand, you paced around Spencer’s apartment while chomping on the vegetable for a good ten minutes.

It worked, but only a little. So, you tried another item.

5. Start a Conversation to Wake Up Your Mind

It was a total bust. At goddamn eleven forty five in the evening, on a week night, not many people would be excited to pick up the phone. You tried a few numbers and all of them went to voice mail.

On to the next one.

3. Give Your Eyes a Break

Okay, so no screens. You put your phone down, shut the television off, and walked over to Spencer’s bookcase. Running your fingers along their spines, you were in awe of how many books he had. It was too many to pick from, so instead, you went to his bedside table and picked up the book he was last reading in bed.

You almost fell into the trap of sitting in bed to read it. You knew if you did that, you’d fall asleep right away. So you took it to the couch, grabbing one of his sweaters off his armchair on the way, and tossing it overhead.

In a bid of hope, you never got out of that lingerie you put on for him, but now it was starting to get chilly. You promised yourself to take it off the second you heard his keys hit the door; he’d never have to know you were anything less than the perfectly seductive piece you were dressed up as.

But, Jesus fucking Christ. Spencer reads some boring books.

Not boring, maybe, but ones that have words just in the damn title that you don’t even understand. You strained your mind through four of the pages, which took at least another twenty minutes anyways, and decided that was more than enough.

You checked your phone again, hoping for a miracle. And it came to you in the form of a text from Spencer.

Just landed!

Got news that all the roads are blocked off. Trains are closed, Morgan’s gonna drive me home, but it could still take at least an hour :(

There wasn’t even a moment to be excited about the first part before you swiped out of the messages app and angrily pulled up that listicle again. All the other suggestions were rubbish; you weren’t going to go exercise in a snowstorm, there wasn’t any fucking sunlight at past midnight, and you’d already drank tons of water.

There was one item on the list you hadn’t tried yet.

2. Take a Nap to Take the Edge Off Sleepiness

That was tempting. Spencer did say it would be another hour, and as he’s informed you many times before, a twenty-minute nap was all it took to get the optimal nap in.

You caved. But you made sure to set your phone alarm for twenty minutes out, and yet another after that just in case. Fluffing Spencer’s sofa cushions up, you tucked one under your head and laid down.

You woke up just moments before Spencer came home. He walked in to find you waiting for him, clad in the hottest red lingerie he’d ever laid eyes on. After weeks of being apart, he didn’t have the time for words. He dropped his bags at the door and wordlessly stormed over, bringing his hands to either side of your face and gripping you tightly as he covered your mouth with his own.

Your mouths worked furiously together, and his hands dropped low on your hips before throwing all caution to the wind and palming your ass. With both hands just below your ass, he picked you up, wrapping your legs around his waist as he walked you to the wall and pinned you against it. Your pussy was leveled perfectly against his hard dick. He grinded himself against you, moaning at the sweet friction. His head was buried in your neck, sucking so deliciously.

“Spencer,” you moaned his name, low and rolling, as he shifted your panties aside. “Mmm, feels so good baby.”

He carefully set you down and dropped to his knees, putting his face between your legs instead. His tongue pressed along the length of your seam. You let your eyes close as you dropped your head back onto the wall.

“Fuck, Spencer!” you couldn’t stop moaning it. Every other breath became the sound of his name.

And then, you felt a kiss on your forehead. And a palm on your shoulder. Your eyes flickered open, fully and for real this time.

Next thing you knew, Spencer was kneeling on the floor. Not between your legs, but by your side while you were laid out on the couch, gently shaking you awake.

“Hi,” he smiled as you finally blinked your eyes awake. “Havin’ a good dream, I hope?”

You grumbled, disappointed both that it wasn’t real, and that you’d fallen asleep. “No, no, it wasn’t supposed to be like this!” you pouted, sitting up. “I was supposed to wake up and, and –”

“Be ready for me?” He quirked a brow as he surveyed the room.

There were dozens of blown-out candles under the open windows, carrying a cool evening breeze. An untouched plate of chocolate strawberries, and a less-untouched bottle of champagne. You, clad in something silky and red, that made you look like a present waiting to be unwrapped. And also, his chunky knit sweater.

“I tried, I promise. I did everything, I even read that book of yours,” you gestured to it on the coffee table, barely cracked open.

“Well, it’s no wonder you fell asleep then,” he laughed.

“I’m so sorry, Spence.”

He only shook his head and pushed your shoulders back down until you were lying on the couch again.

“Don’t apologize.” He pulled your knees closer to him, hooking the leg closest to him over his far shoulder and nestling himself inside. “To find my girlfriend waiting for me, in my home,” he stopped to kiss the inside of your knee, “in my sweater,” and then the other one, “and in this, too?”

Spencer pushed up the hem of the sweater, exposing the fancy lingerie you had under. His large hands rested on your sides as he dove in to kiss your belly, right above the mesh garter belt you wore. From there, he kissed a line all the way down, stopping before reaching your panties.

“Well, that’s all I could’ve asked for.” He gave you a smirk before hooking one finger into your panties and pulling them to the side. He dragged his tongue over you. “So, why don’t you tell me what that dream was about?”

#spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid self insert #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds smut #spencer reid blurb #spencer reid imagine #blurb

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professorrw · 3 years

Text

Disobeying the Captian

Pairing: female reader x Steve Rogers

Requested: Yes

Warnings: smut, 18+, spanking, unprotected sex, Captain kink

A/N: Requests are open for one-shots, headcanons, imagines, and drabbles for My Hero Academia, Harry Potter, and Marvel! My taglist is open so if you’d like to be on that just tell me! Please like, comment, and reblog!

Your heart is pounding out of your chest. Your footsteps are thundering on the metal tops of shipping containers.

“Y/L/N get out of there! Retreat! That’s an order!” Steve yells.

You ignore him and keep running, sights set on your fallen comrade. In just a moment the bomb will go off. But you can’t leave a man behind. You won’t. You jump down to the concrete ground and drop to the man’s level. “Can you walk?”

“I can try,” he pants out. His whole body was shaking and his leg was limp. You loop and arm under him and hoist him up. You start running back with the man limping along with you. Once you come into view of Steve he runs to meet you and as you pass the man along there’s an explosion. Heat gushes behind you and your head rings.

“Get in the chopper Y/N I got him!” You start running and risk a glance back at the chaos. The shipyard is in flames and your team is right at the edge of it. You jump into the back of the helicopter and help Steve fasten your teammate into a seat. You were clutching your burning chest. The intense running was killing your lungs.

You and Steve were the last to get in but as soon as you do the chopper takes off. You put on the aviation headset and let your head rest against the wall behind you. You can feel Steve’s glare even with your eyes closed. It was safe to say he was mad.

As soon as you land and your injured teammate is taken to get help Steve rounds on you. “Y/L/N you had no right to disregard orders.” He’s fuming and his eyes are narrowed at you.

“Steve, you know I couldn’t leave him behind. You wouldn’t leave him behind would you?” You cross your arms and stare right back at the taller man.

“This isn’t about what I would do, this is about you. You almost got yourself killed acting reckless.” At the last sentence his eyes momentarily soften but then he resumes his furious stance. If you weren’t blinded by anger you could have caught it.

“I won’t leave a man behind and that’s that Captain.” You weren’t going to let Steve make you feel guilty for your actions.

“What if you didn’t make it? What if you both died huh? Then we would have lost two people.” He raises his eyebrows, thinking he’s got the better of you. His hands are on his hips and his face is a foot from yours. His blue eyes are intense and burning.

“But I made it. I got to him in time and we made it back. No lives were lost.”

Steve swallows thickly, “You’ll come to my office later to discuss your punishment. Until then you’re dismissed.”

“My punishment?” you ask in disbelief. “What are you going to do, spank me? I saved him for Christ's sake!” Your arms are wide open and your eyebrows are raised.

“We’ll discuss this later Y/L/N,” he says through gritted teeth before turning from you. You scowl at his back and he disappears around a corner. For a minute you stand there, still in shock that he would punish you for that. You huff and finally turn around, making your way outside to the parking lot.

You turn on your car and switch on the air conditioning. You were still sweaty from the mission and the thing you needed right now was some cool air. You pop open the center console and pull out your phone. You immediately dial Sam to rant about Steve’s behavior.

“Y’ello?”

“Sam, you will not believe this. We just got back from a mission right? And one of my comrades fell, we took him to the med area and he’s getting treated, he should be okay, but I went back to save him because the bomb was about to explode and I couldn’t just leave him there. We get back and Steve blows up on me! He says, and I quote, ‘You had no right to disobey orders.’ Can you believe him?” Everything gushes out at once in one long and quick breath of air.

Sam starts cracking up on the other side of the line, “Oh Y/N. Don’t tell me you’ve lost your little crush over this? He cares about you obviously! Let me guess… he also said you could have died?”

Your mouth hangs open. “I- I do not have a crush on him. And …yeah.”

“You can’t lie to me! You were ecstatic when you heard you were being transferred to work with him. And it’s nothing to be upset over, he’s just in his feelings. He was probably scared.”

“He said he was going to punish me.”

“Oh- tell me how that goes,” he laughs again. “If that’s all I’ll be hanging up now. Ciao Y/N.”

“Sam-” there’s a beep and you pull your phone away from your face. He really hung up. Such an ass you think to yourself. You let a little breath escape your nose in a short laugh sort of way. Of course your best friend would say that. Of course Sam would say that. And why did he have to mention your crush on Steve? It was a girlish fantasy that would never be fulfilled.

You return inside and go to your room, mulling over Steve and Sam’s words. What kind of punishment would you get? Suspension? Cleaning the toilets? And also did Steve care about you? He’s never blown up on anyone else like that. Maybe he just doesn’t like you. Maybe he finds you aggravating.

You head to dinner with another one of your teammates from the mission earlier that day and eat with them. Right at the tail end Stacey, another one of your teammates, taps you on the shoulder. “Cap wants to see you in his office when you're finished.”

“Thanks, Stace,” you say to him. You finish up your dinner slightly dreading what’s to come. The walk to Steve’s office has your stomach rolling and you think you might just throw up.

You step up to his door labeled “Captain Rogers” and knock.

“Come in Y/N.” You step through the door and into his office. He’s sitting behind his desk lounging in his leather rolling chair.

“Captain,” you say flatly. You stand in front of the now shut door and cross your arms.

“Y/L/N look. I apologize for yelling at you. I shouldn’t have. I should really be thanking you. Drake is alright and it’s all because of you. He fractured his kneecap and he’s undergoing surgery but they think he’ll be okay.”

“Good. I’m glad.” You let your front drop a bit now that Steve’s calmed down.

“But I still think you deserve a punishment.” You hear the change in his voice, the way it lowered when he said that and it sent shivers down your spine.

“What do you have in mind?” you croaked out.

He chuckles and rises from his seat. He walks to the front of his desk and leans against it. He crosses his muscular arms over his just as muscular chest. He crosses his ankles and cocks his head to the side slightly. “What do you think I should do? I actually quite like the idea of spanking you. Do you think that’s a fair punishment?”

When he said that your entire body heat rose about forty degrees. Your cheeks were burning and your stomach was doing flips. It was like you were in a wet dream or something. You couldn’t deny that your Captain was turning you on. He always had. You had eyes after all. Everything about him was just… hot. His beard, his hair, his arms, his ass, the list went on.

You were incapable of responding and Steve found it amusing how flustered he made you. “How about it doll?”

“Yeah- Yeah that seems fair,” you manage to get out. Your voice was failing you and you sounded just as bewildered as you were.

Steve quit leaning on his desk and stood at full height beside it. “Bend over.” He motioned to the spot he had just left. You swallowed and walked over there in a daze. You did as you were commanded and bent over.

Steve’s hand rubbed on your butt before leaving it and coming back down with a loud smack. The motion pushed your whole body forward and your ass was already burning. Tears threatened the corners of your eyes. This was the first time in your whole life you had been spanked in such a manner.

Once again he rubbed your plump butt before delivering another blow to it. Your knees felt weak and you thought they were going to give out on you.

“Three more doll,” Steve’s sultry voice said from beside you. You prepared for impact as his hand came down again, and again, and again. Your butt was numb and tears stained your face.

“That wasn’t so bad was it? Are you going to disobey me again?” His hand was rubbing circles on your throbbing ass cheeks.

You fervently shook your head. You were fully embarrassed from the experience.

“You’re such a good girl… I wish you would listen to me more often. If you were gone, who would I masturbate to? Who would I spank? Would you like it if I spanked other girls?” he asked in a soft voice.

You shook your head again and dared to turn around. Your knees were shaking and you were having trouble standing but you willed through it.

Steve cupped your cheek and rubbed his thumb across your lips. “ You’re such a good girl. Do you want your Captain to take care of you? Do you want your Captain to make you feel good?”

You nodded this time but he ‘tsked.’ “Use your words.”

“Yes.”

“Yes what?”

“Yes Captain,” you answered.

“That’s what I like to hear.” He smiled at you and moved his hands to your waist. He grinded his crotch against you lightly as he pressed his lips against yours. You reciprocated the kiss and found purchase in his hair.

“Turn around for your Captain okay? Bend over again. Don’t worry, I won’t spank you.”

You did as he said and bent over the desk again. Steve got behind you this time and ran his hand along your spine before it went to your ass. He pulled your pants and underwear down and stopped to stare for a second.

He chuckled, “You’re already wet for me doll.” You couldn’t see what was going on but you could hear his belt buckle clink and then a zipper. You felt the tip of his cock brush against your slick folds. He moved it up and down your entrance, taunting it. He stopped at your cunt and pushed the tip in.

You gripped the edge of the desk and put your cheek against its cool surface. He waited for a second before he started to push more in. Your walls stretched to accommodate his thick member. It was without a doubt the biggest you ever had inside you.

You were moaning without a filter as he began to thrust into you. His balls were slapping against you repeatedly. He knew what he was doing, hitting your g-spot and sending tingles throughout you.

“You’re doing so good. You’re such a good girl.”

You moaned his name and then moaned “Captain” and that made him feral. He rutted into you without pause. He fucked you with superhuman strength. When your orgasm came he was still pounding into you trying to reach his own. You were worn out and your pussy was throbbing but he wasn’t going to stop until he came on you.

He body was rocking back and forth on the desk and the desk was scraping against the floor as it inched farther and farther back. Steve’s huge hands were pulling you to meet his thrusts. He pulled out of you and the next thing you knew warm liquid was spurting onto your bare ass cheeks. He stood there for a minute, admiring the art before him.

You pulled your underwear and pants back up and turned around, but still leaned against the desk. Steve smiled at you then held onto your waist to kiss you once more.

“If you disobey me again then I’ll punish you but if you act like a good girl I’ll make you feel good, how does that sound?”

“Good,” you whispered.

“Good…”

“Good Captain.”

“That’s what I like to hear.” He gave you one more kiss and let you get in order before you left his office.

Taglist: @bellamy1998

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hyunjilicious · 3 years

Text

body shots [bucky barnes]

A/n: I word vomited this in 20 minutes and I fucking need this in my life. This is literally just a college AU with minimal plot + shy!innocent!bucky with a twist

Summary: you’re the popular girl and Bucky is the nerd no one talks to. What happens when you finally confess you have a crush on him? 2.1k

Warnings: ok, I always try to not describe the reader at all, but in order for the things in this fic to be able to happen, the reader has to have boobs that aren’t... you know... non-existent like mine lol. Language, alcohol and I think that’s it?

“Come on” you giggled, your tormenting gaze consuming the whole of Bucky’s being. He fidgeted with the hem of his shirt, eyes awkwardly avoiding yours, in a pathetic attempt to get himself out of his situation. You followed his gaze, looking over the sea of people, but nothing caught your eye. You turned to him, frustration curling your brows, “Please, Bucky”

“No” he whined, throwing his head to the side as the softest of smiles danced at the corner of his lips. Deep down, judging by his pink cheeks and glossy eyes, you knew he wanted to let loose. It was probably the surroundings that inhibited him, that kept him tied to the corner of the room, one red cup of beer in his hand. “I’m not-” he cringed, gesturing towards the tens of already inebriated young adults around the two of you, “I can’t. I’m not one of you guys”

“You can be” you giggled seductively, grabbing his hand into yours. He stiffened against your touch but he didn’t pull away. Instead, he watched you closely, his perfectly innocent blue eyes curiously watching yours, looking for confirmation. Were you really hitting on him? He was oblivious to the moon and back, but even so, your intentions were a bit too obvious.

He contemplated it for a second. You raised your eyebrows, sending him a wordless question and he actually thought about it for a minute, his mouth popping open before he regained himself. Bucky shook his head, chuckling with embarrassment, “Are you making fun of me?”

Your heart broke. “No” you squeezed his hand tighter into yours, “Of course I’m not” you added, Although your tone was somewhat stern, your voice almost cracked as you failed to hide just how much his question hurt. “Why would you think that? Bucky, if I ever did anything-”

“No” he cut you off. Your sudden change in attitude worried him, and now his words drowned in guilt. “You never did anything wrong. I’m sorry.”

“What is it?” you questioned, dragging him by his hand to a nearby table. You put your own glass down, and turned to him, “Tell me”

“It’s nothing” Bucky shook his head, silently laughing as he stared at your shoes.

“Why don’t you want to dance with us?”

“I don’t like dancing,” he shrugged.

“See?” you smiled, wrapping both your hands around his. “If you had told me that from the beginning I would have dropped it. But you told me you don’t think you’re one of us. What does that mean? And you asked me if I’m making fun of you. I would never, Bucky”

Despite the speakers blasting music loud enough to make the windows shake, silence settled between the two of you. You awaited his answer, softly rubbing your thumb across his knuckles.

“I feel stupid” he shook his head, “I don’t even know what I’m doing at this party. No one wants me here anyway”

“I want you here”

“You’re just saying that because you’re a nice person”

“I’m not nice enough to go around and make sure everyone feels welcome”

“Then why are you here with me?” he scoffed.

“Because I like you?” you hesitated despite it being the truth, and felt your ears burst into flames. In some way, you felt a deep pain in the depths of your chest as you spoke the words, but as soon as they left your mouth, you actually felt relieved. “I liked you for some time, but I had no idea how to approach you, so I thought maybe you’d want to dance with me.”

There was nothing but confusion on his features. His eyes studied yours, looking for the lie. He gawked and all but gasped when you maintained the eye contact and sent him a sweet, reassuring smile. “You like me?” Bucky asked, “Why?”

“Don’t be like that” you frowned, “You’re amazing”

“You don’t know me”

“But I want to”

He bitterly chuckled, the disbelief in his tone sounding almost condescending. “No, you don’t”

“Listen” you said, “If it’s really dancing that you don’t like, we can do something else. We can, I don’t know, talk, do shots? Race down the street or sit down on the porch and roll the joints for these dumbasses. But if it’s me that you don’t like, tell me and I’ll go now and won’t bug you again”

“You’re not bugging me,” Bucky said, his voice barely audible.

“Really?” you beamed almost not able to believe your ears, “Do you wanna-”

“Let’s, um” he laughed, “Let’s dance.”

You weren’t going to object - it was what you came to this shitty party for anyway. Keeping your hand tightly secured around his, you dragged him through the room, searching for a darker corner of the dance floor. You knew he was already somewhat uncomfortable and didn’t want to make everything worse by having him end up in the middle of a mosh pit or something worse.

“Hey there!” Clint’s voice reached your ears. You stopped dead in your tracks and cursed under your breath before turning to face him.

Bucky looked confused and cornered while Clint was as smug as ever.

“This is a party, not a nerd fest, Y/n. The fuck’s he doing here?”

Nostrils flaring, you swallowed your anger and stared him down as you wrapped an arm around Bucky’s frame, “Why are you such an asshole?”

“It’s ok” Bucky tried to butt in.

“No, it’s not” you objected.

“How come the princess of this campus is the one with the balls in this relationship?”

Feeling Bucky tense, you took a deep breath, and decided to ignore the erroneous assumption. “He’s just too polite to sink to your level. But I’m not. So beat it, Clint.”

He pretended to turn around and leave, but stopped and faced you one more time, his expression hazardous. “I just wanna know. Were you his first kiss?”

You all but lunged at him to slap his cheek. And you would have done it had Bucky not stopped you at the last moment.

“Wow!” Clint exclaimed, and turned to Bucky. “How the fuck did you land that piece of ass?” he asked, nodding towards you, “You can even hold you ground”

Bucky scoffed, and shifted his weight from one leg to the other. He looked around the room, slightly amused as you waited for his reaction. “I can very much hold my ground.”

“Prove it,” Clint taunted. “Prove you’re not a pussy”

“God” you rolled your eyes, but he continued.

“You two. Body shots” Clint commanded, eager to see Bucky chicken out.

“Oh, jesus christ!” you scoffed, “What are you, 14?”

Just when Clint was about to laugh and claim the win, Bucky nonchalantly accepted the challenge. “Sure”

“Bucky-” you turned to him, “We don’t have to do this, who cares what Clint has to-”

“You don’t wanna do it?” Bucky asked, looking down at you, his eyes cold and determined, nothing like they were before. He smiled lewdly, a smile that hid a lot. The hairs on your body stood up, yet you agreed through a simple nod.

Much to Clint’s surprise, Bucky led you to the bar, his grip strong around your waist as he guided you across the room. “Who goes first?”

“I don’t… I don’t care” you mumbled, amazed and still in shock following his sudden change of attitude.

“Come on” Bucky smiled, and fisted the back of his collar, elegantly pulling his sweater over his head. He handed it to you, and for a second you wondered why he was wearing both a sweater and a shirt, but this thought was wiped from your mind, literally obliterated, blown to pieces, fucking erased when your eyes landed on his naked top half.

The music had been turned down, everyone around you watching carefully. Girls who otherwise would have never looked in his direction gawked and giggled to one another, unable to look away from him. And frankly, neither could you. From his chiseled and defined abs, to his tan chest and the unearthly, bloodcurdling scars that littered his frame, you found yourself struggling to function properly. Who was this guy?

Bucky sat on the bar, a slice of lemon in between his fingers. “Where do you want it?” he asked, waving the salt around.

“Wherever you want it, Bucky!” you shook your head, enthusiastically smiling from ear to ear, “You got it”

“It’s your turn to choose” he urged you.

“Fine” you grinned, “Lean back”

With a side smirk, he laid down on the bar, his chest and abdomen on full display for you and everyone else in the room. You moved to stand by his side, your left hand on his massive thigh as you peppered salt in on the dips in his abdomen. His whole frame rose with every breath he took, and by the second, your need for him grew stronger.

Bucky placed his warm hand on your hip. “Whenever you’re ready”

“Oh, I’m ready all right” you giggled, grabbing your shot.

Before slipping the lemon slice between his teeth, Bucky sent you a wink, and you pussy didn’t fail to respond in an instant. All eyes were on you, whispers and gossip all over, but you drowned them out as you leaned down and licked your way up his body. His abdominal muscles clenched under your tongue, yet somehow off his skin, the salt tasted sweet. You downed the tequila and moved towards his face, your teeth gently grabbing onto the lemon slice as your heart beat out of your chest. And of course he didn’t let go too easily.

Close to bursting into nervous laughter, you opened your eyes, finding his blue ones menacingly staring at you. You were ready to pull away without that damned slice in order to just breathe, but then he unclenched his jaw. You exhaled with relief, his lips brushing against yours before you managed to stand up.

And when you did, you felt disheveled. The amount of tension that tortured your mind during these seconds compared to nothing you had ever experienced before. Every part of your body burned and you sucked on that poor lemon slice for too fucking long in order to pull yourself back together.

“Your turn” Bucky teased, sitting up. You met his eyes and chuckled. “You don’t have to take your shirt off if you don’t want to,” he announced but you rolled our eyes and scoffed.

“Yeah, right”

After ushering Bucky off the bar, you watched him dress himself back up. When he was ready, you took his spot and salaciously grinned at him as you pulled your top over your head, your breasts inches away from his hungry eyes.

“Lean on your elbows, doll” he said, and you almost burst into flames at the pet name.

You did as told and lowered yourself back.

Tens of people watched you, yet the only eyes you cared about were Bucky’s. He stared at you as if he was going to eat you alive, and frankly, at this point, you were willing to beg for it.

“Take this” he said, placing another slice of lemon between your teeth, before grabbing the salt and pouring a healthy amount across your breasts.

As he lowered himself over your body, you heaved in anticipation, your chest nearing his face with every tortured breath you took. And when it happened, it felt like pure electricity attacked your body. His devilish tongue brushed against your skin, around the curve of your tits, his breath hot and wet as a smile was visible at the corners of his mouth.

You continued to watch him as he straightened his back to take the shot, and almost choked on the slice between your teeth when he leaned down again. He didn’t hold back, his lips crashing against yours, the aggravation of his movement making the lemon juice drip down your chin. And this could’ve gone so much differently, but he had a task. Bucky ripped the slice away from your teeth, pulling away as he munched on it.

You were lost. Completely and utterly in pure awe with this man. In a matter of minutes he went from a cute nerd you were soft for, to a sculptured man who you were fucking weak for. And judging by his proud expression, he knew it.

“Ok, ok, fine, fuck it” Clint called, his voice pulling you out of your thoughts. “I fucking take everything back. Though you, Buck-” he added, “Could fucking ditch the dweb attire and maybe… I don’t know, stop being fucking weird., cause man-” he whistled, looking Buck up and down before turning around and leaving without another word.

“Oh my god” you laughed, and so did Bucky.

You wanted to stand up, but he was quicker, grabbing your waist and helping you to your feet. “Got some shit I need to tell you about me” he confessed, his voice low, right against your ear.

“No shit” you scoffed, slapping his chest.

“Your place or mine?”

“Whichever is closer”

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes smut #sebastian stan imagine #sebastian stan smut

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caramel-whiskeys-writing · 3 years

Text

Red Dead Preference: You Get Taken by O'Driscolls

Red Dead Masterlist

Arthur

As soon as he hears that you were kidnapped by those scum he jumped on his horse with Dutch struggling to keep up with The Count behind him. Once the whole gang, including the girls, get there Hosea has to talk to Arthur like he did with John when Jack was taken. Dutch however knows how much you mean to Arthur and doesn't even try to talk to them and starts shooting. You were tied up to a chair with blood dripping from your face as Colm kept punching you every time you talked to him. Arthur had taught you to have a snappy mouth which wasn't helping your situation. As soon as they break through the door Arthur pulls you into a hug. Dutch and Hosea fight your way out of there as Arthur holds you in his arms constantly telling you how thankful he is that you're alive. You dealt with it for a couple of minutes until you got annoyed and told him to shut his mouth. No matter how many times you told him to stop talking and focus he wouldn't listen. Hosea just told you to push through it as he was probably going to keep saying it for weeks until Grimshaw tells him to stop.

Dutch

When Hosea was out trying to make money off of the Cornwall shares they stole he heard an O'Driscoll talking about a girl that was just like you. When he came back he ones he had to tell Dutch who immediately loaded his gun and called over the gang. There is no way he is going to lose you to Colm like he lost Annabel. He goes into a huge rage and the energy seems to also come off of the rest of the gang. Colm knew that you were special to Dutch and he was having a great time when you cried out in agony which make him continue to shove knives into your skin. As soon as he found you he started crying. You were unconscious and barely breathing. He never cried in front of anyone, but himself. With the condition you were it was hard to get you out, but with Arthur by Dutch's side you all finally made it back to camp. Right away he made everyone focus on you and kill any O'Driscoll they found. He was so happy that you survived Colm as you always told him you would never leave this world without saying goodbye. Once you woke up he kissed your forehead and constantly rubbed your arm to comfort you when you were in pain. He'd even read to you if you asked him.

John

Sadie came running into camp yelling for John with fear and pure anger in her eyes. So as soon as he hears your name he drops everything and goes to Dutch and begs him to help. Dutch was never a fan of some of the ideas you had. They only seemed to get you into trouble and this time it really did. He saw how much John had changed when he came back with you after he left the gang so he knew you were worth it. He also knew that you had a loud mouth and also talked a lot. John was panicking that whole ride or the enemy camp and sometimes would get lost on thought and Arthur's loud voice brought him back to reality. Once he cut you from the shackles that hanged you on the wall he kissed you hard even though you had blood in your mouth. You were still able walk so once you left you shot up every living being in the radius of your rifle with John, Arthur, and Dutch by your side. After that you only did business with hunting down O'Driscolls and sometimes John would join you. You also had a clue thing you would say when you killed them together.

Sean

Jesus Christ, he never stopped talking about what he was going to do to them once he had his hands on them. The whole way to save you he thought about what has things they could be doing to you and after all of this he was going to treat you like the queen you deserve to treated like. The loudmouth yelled at everybody he shot at and you knew he was pretty quickly because of it. So you got yourself out of the rope that tied you to a chair and took back your weapons which they mistakenly put in the room you were in. Right before he was about to kick down the door he just jumped and was about to get his brains blown out, but you open the door and shotgunned the fucker down spitting blood onto his dead body. Sean looked up at you in awe and said, "God you're the perfect woman." and you responded with a smirk on your face, "I better get some good sex to forget this." Your wish came true, but only after about 10 heavy drinks and some dirty singing with the ladies.

Any requests?

#red dead redmeption #red dead redemption arthur #red dead fandom #red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption dutch #red dead redemption john #red dead redemption sean #red dead #rdr2 fanfic #rdr2 #rdr2 original character #arthur morga #dutch van der linde #john marston #sean mcguire #writer #write #writing blog #writing

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let-the-dream-begin · 3 years

Text

In My Daughter’s Eyes Chapter 34: Forever

Chapter 33

Read on AO3

IMPORTANT PLEASE READ: This fic is on a very long hiatus until further notice. Please see the AO3 link for more details. Much love❤️

It was June third, the day after their eleven month anniversary. Claire couldn’t believe it; it was truly almost an entire year since that fateful Saturday at the stables. A year since their hearts and bodies had spoken what their voices dared not say.

He took her down port again, to a restaurant even more extravagant than the one they’d gone to the last time they were there. It was a glorious Saturday night, and Claire was blissfully happy.

Though something seemed off with Jamie.

His hand had done that tapping that he did when he was anxious the entire drive over, and it was his left, always his left, so she could not reach out and take it to soothe him.

“Why, you’re as nervous as you were on our first date,” she’d teased.

“Aye, well.” He’d forced a chuckle, winking at her. “It’s no’ every day ye celebrate nearly a year wi’ the woman ye love.”

She’d laughed, too, not really considering what an odd thing that was to say.

She also hadn’t considered how strange it was to go so all-out when it wasn’t actually a full year yet. She could truly only imagine how extravagant those plans would be.

And anyway…what was there to be nervous about? There wasn’t a single thing they hadn’t shared, a single thing they didn’t know about each other now. Holding his hand as they left the parking meter, strolling down the sidewalk to their reservation, his palm was as sweaty as it had been the night they’d first slept together.

Had he never eaten at this restaurant? Was he worried she wouldn’t like it?

Watching his hand jiggle at his side at a constant loop at the table, Claire put her menu down.

“Jamie. You’re shaking the whole table.”

“Christ, I’m sorry.” He stiffened, reigning himself in. “I didn’t even notice I was doing it.”

“Don’t be sorry,” she said gently. “I’m serious. What’s going on with you? You’re never so out of it when we go out.”

“Nothing’s going on,” he said, and she almost believed him. “I’m alright.”

“You’re about to cause an earthquake with that nervous tick of yours and you expect me to believe you’re alright?”

His lips quirked up in a sheepish grin, and for just a second she caught a glimpse of Jamie again, not the anxious mess she was at dinner with.

“Is something happening with your family? And you don’t want to ruin the evening by bringing it up now? Because I don’t give a damn about the evening. We can leave right now—”

“No.”

Claire jumped a little, wincing at how tightly he squeezed her hand.

“Sorry,” he stammered. “I’m mucking this all up.”

“Mucking what up?”

He sighed. “Nothing is wrong wi’ my family. Nothing at all is wrong. Everything is…perfect. My life hasna been this right since I was a bairn.”

Claire allowed a tiny smile, her eyes glimmering. “Okay,” she said softly, urging him to continue.

“That’s what has me feeling this way, I suppose. You are perfect. Our life is perfect. I suppose this big anniversary is just…I dinna ken. I think I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

“Jamie…” Claire shook her head. “There is no other shoe. I’m not going anywhere. Faith is not going anywhere. You’re stuck with us, darling.”

He sighed in relief, and Claire could not comprehend that he would ever think otherwise to the point where he would feel such relief.

“Even when I’m shaking tables and sweating through shirts?”

She giggled. “Yes. Even then.”

He kissed her hand. “Good.”

The rest of the dinner went off without a hitch, though there was still something underlying buzzing through Jamie. She couldn’t wait to get him alone and reassure him the only way she knew how. If he kept this up, she might not be able to wait until they got home. She’d have to find a long, empty dock and drag him to the edge and kiss him senseless anywhere he wanted. She couldn’t stand to see him like this, and she wouldn’t rest until she could see that he was absolutely sure that she was his and his alone.

Forever.

They went to their usual ice cream place, and as they swapped cups and tasted each other’s, Jamie seemed to relax a little bit more, laughing, savoring the flavor like a little boy. That was one of the things she loved most about him. He took nothing for granted, not even the difference between his moose tracks ice cream and Claire’s mint chocolate chip, not even the pigeons and seagulls that watched them out of the corner of their eye the closer they got to the beach.

“I’ll unleash all my unholy power if they so much as peck this ice cream,” Claire said, eyeing a particularly nasty looking little bastard.

“Dinna fash, my lass,” Jamie said gallantly, raising his spoon like Excalibur. “No harm shall befall ye, or yer precious frozen treat. No’ so long as I’m wi’ ye.”

“My hero.” She batted her lashes at him, then craned her neck and puckered her lips, and he obliged her, kissing her soundly.

The farther along the beach they wandered, the less and less people they encountered, and Claire began scouting locations where they could tuck themselves away for even a few moments of privacy. She certainly couldn’t fully have him here, but a few sloppy kisses and heavy touches would do the trick. Her eyes flicked to a dock with a boat on the end, no people to be found on it. She gave him a mischievous look and began tugging him toward it.

“I ken that look well enough,” Jamie said, matching her mischief. “And I’ll no’ be giving in to ye.”

She stuck out her lip in her most convincing pout. “Why ever not?”

“I dinna trust ye no’ to get us arrested for public indecency. No’ with that gleam in yer eye.”

“I’ll be good! I promise.” She stopped tugging so she could press herself flush against him, arching her back just enough that her breasts were the first thing that came in contact with him. “Come on, love…I promise I’ll behave.”

She fully expected him to grab her hips, press his hardness into her with a growl, and accept defeat.

But instead, he just grinned. Not even a smirk, a full-faced grin.

“If ye can catch me, ye can have yer way wi’ me.”

“What—?”

And then before she could blink, Jamie was running, sprinting away from her, kicking up sand in his wake.

“You bastard!”

She hiked up her skirts and chased after him as fast as her bare feet could carry her in the sand. She lost track of how long she spent going after him, but he was not relenting, not letting her catch up. They were both laughing their heads off, whooping, Claire calling after him until her voice was hoarse. He finally stopped, appearing to not be exhausted in the slightest, and she slowed herself to a jog, chest heaving and burning.

“You absolute maniac,” she panted. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

She was laughing as she said it, and he laughed with her, reaching out his hand and taking it when she caught up. He kissed her hand.

“My legs feel like jell-o. You’d better be planning on carrying me back.”

“Aye, of course,” he said automatically. “But I want to show ye something first.”

She cocked a brow skeptically.

“Come on.”

He tugged on her hand, and out of sheer exhaustion, she allowed him to lead the way. They were walking right to a dock, and before Claire could exasperatedly complain that she’d been trying to do the same thing before he started that marathon, she realized.

There were candles lining every step of the boardwalk, a string of lights wrapped around each wooden post along the way. Across the top was a zigzag of more lights, held in place by thin metal poles attached to the wooden posts. She hadn’t seen it, even as she was running right toward it. She’d had her eyes locked on Jamie’s bright red hair all the while, desperate to catch up to him.

“What…what is all this…?” She was still out of breath, and on top of it her breath was gone for an entirely different reason.

He didn’t say anything, just kept his hand laced with hers and continued walking her down to the end of the pier.

“This is beautiful…is this always here…? I don’t understand…”

A familiar humming noise took her out of her dumbstruck admiration of the twinkling beauty, and she whipped her head around. “Jamie…what…?” Squinting, Claire could make out two figures at the opposite end of the pier, and a bouncing little thing in front of them.

Before she could process what was happening, she felt him take her other hand. She turned her head to question him, but was stunned into silence by the look on his face.

He was radiant.

The string of lights painted glowing streaks in his hair and twinkled in his eyes. And God, his eyes…they were bigger than she’d ever seen; she may very well have drowned in them if he didn’t start speaking.

“Claire, I…” His voice broke, and he cleared his throat. The hand that was grasping hers was trembling.

“Jamie…?”

“You are…the most remarkable woman I’ve ever met,” he continued, holding her gaze and squeezing her hand tighter. “The first time I saw ye I was…blown away by how big yer heart was. The way ye looked at Faith, the way she smiled at ye…I knew. I knew ye were special. And I didna realize at the time, but ye’d already crawled into this hole in my heart that was made for you. Both of you.”

Claire’s eyes welled up with tears, and it very suddenly hit her exactly what was happening.

“I know the pain ye’ve seen, mo ghraidh, I know the fear and doubt that plagues ye. But I…” He cleared his throat again, and then lowered himself to the ground, on one knee.

A single tear escaped Claire’s eye, trickling down as her breath hitched in her throat.

“I will never, never stop trying to be worthy of ye, Claire. I swear to ye on my life that I will be a good husband, and…a good father. You deserve to be loved beyond measure. And I…I do, mo sorcha. I love you wi’ every ounce of my being.”

Claire was fully sobbing now, and his thumb rubbed over her knuckles as his other hand reached into his pocket.

“So will you, Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp, make me the luckiest man in the world?” He opened the box, revealing the beautiful sparkling ring within. “Will ye marry me, Sassenach?”

Claire could not speak. She nodded vigorously, more ridiculous sobs sputtering from her. Jamie’s strained, concentrated face erupted into the most glorious smile she had ever seen. He leapt to his feet and Claire threw her arms around his neck, and he encircled her waist, lifting her off the ground and spinning her. He exclaimed loudly in Gaelic, laughing joyously, and Claire sputtered her own laughter in between sobs.

He finally put her down, and Claire seized his face in her hands and pressed her lips to his, and he kissed her back passionately. When they pulled apart, Jamie was holding the ring, a small but beautiful rock set within it, and she allowed him to slip it on.

“Oh, love…” she croaked out, and he brought her hand to his lips and fervently kissed the ring.

Something suddenly collided with Claire’s legs, and she cried out a bit in shock. Jamie laughed again as Claire turned around and looked down to see Faith clinging to her legs. Looking up, she could now see that the figures in the distance were Gail and Joe.

“You…” She turned back to Jamie. “You had this all planned, didn’t you?”

Jamie just beamed at her, his eyes glistening with tears. Claire let out a joyous laugh and sank to her knees in front of Faith.

“Hello, lovie….” She wrapped her arms around her and squeezed tight, rocking her gently. “Oh, look at you…” Claire pulled back so she could see Faith, dressed in a beautiful little dress, blue and purple and frilly, white stockings and her perfect little white shoes. When she’d left her with Leina, she was still in her pajamas from the night before, and the plan had seemingly been to leave it that way.

“Look at us, hm?” Claire said, sniffling as she stroked Faith’s hair. “All dressed up? Mummy is going to be married, darling.” Claire’s voice broke, and she laughed through more tears. “See, Faith?” She held up her hand, and Faith immediately began fiddling with the rock. “This means I’m going to be a bride, baby.”

God…I can’t believe it.

A hand suddenly touched her shoulder, and she looked behind her to see that Jamie had crouched down beside her.

“I’ve, ehm, got something for her, too,” he said, his nervousness returning.

Claire’s heart felt fit to burst as her eyes landed on the pink velvet box in his hand.

“With yer permission, Claire…” Jamie took a deep, stuttering breath. “I’d like to ask yer daughter to let me be her father.”

Claire’s chin quivered again, her eyes immediately welling up. She nodded, swallowing thickly, and then fervently kissed Jamie’s cheek before standing up to allow him to proceed.

——

Jamie took a steadying breath before straightening himself out, getting up on his knee the way he’d just done before Claire.

“Hello, wean,” he said. She was fiddling with her skirt and twirling it back and forth, staring intently at its sparkles.

“Faith, a leannan, can ye look at my eyes?” He gently poked her chin with his finger, and she looked up, only to become enraptured by the string of lights above her head.

“D’ye like the lights, Faith?” Jamie flicked her chin with his middle finger, signing light. She giggled and snatched his hand in both of hers. “Ah, ye got me,” he teased, bringing her hands to his lips and kissing them. “I like the lights too, ye ken. Reminds me of our special day in our fairy den. D’ye remember?” She hummed a bit, freeing one of her hands from his grip to flap it, saying fairy

“Aye, that’s right. Very good, Faith.” He took her hand again in hopes of keeping her attention. “I had lots of fun that day, Faith. In fact, I have lots of fun whenever I’m with ye. Because ye’re a very special lass. D’ye ken that?”

She started fiddling with the wee hairs on his hands, giggling to herself.

“I asked yer Mummy a very important question, Faith. I asked her if she wanted to be my wife. And I gave her a special present to celebrate, a very pretty ring. D’ye like the ring?” She nodded absently, still twirling the little hairs. “Well, I’m glad to hear it. Because I’ve got a special present fer you, too.”

That got her attention. She whipped her head up and looked at him, humming and then opening her mouth with an excited groan. Jamie chuckled softly and held the box up to her. She stroked the velvet box with her hands before pressing her cheek into it, likely enjoying its softness.

“Lovely box, is it no’?” he teased, and then gently lifted her chin to pick her head up off the box. “Let’s look inside, aye?”

Before Faith could snatch the box again or get upset, he popped it open.

“See what I’ve got for ye? Look.” He let Faith take it in her hands. “It’s a crown, see? And look what it says. F-A-I-T-H.” He signed each letter to her as he said it. “Faith. That’s yer name, aye?” She hummed, biting her lip with her smile. “Princess Faith, it says.

“D’ye ken that I love ye, Faith?” His voice got tight, his eyes welling up. “I think I fell in love wi’ you just as quickly as I did yer mam.” He tucked a curl behind her ear. He kept his hand there, cupping her cheek, as he signed I love you with his free hand. “See, a leannan? I love you.”

Faith gave a high pitched, squealing giggle, bouncing as she returned the sign. Jamie uttered a breathy laugh, a single tear trickling down his cheek. He heard a tiny sob from above him, and wasn’t surprised to feel Claire’s hand grasp his shoulder.

“Good girl, Faith,” Jamie whispered, rubbing a circle on her cheek with his thumb. “It makes me verra happy that ye love me, too.” He signed happy, smiling widely. “Are ye happy, Faith?” She hummed, jiggling her hands and nodding. “Good, good lass.” He sniffled, blinking away more tears, reaching to his own shoulder to cover Claire’s hand in his.

“I promise to always love ye, and protect ye, and do right by ye, just as I will yer mam.” He gave Claire’s hand a squeeze. “Will ye be my wee princess, Faith?” He poked a finger at the necklace, his fingertip cooling at the touch of the metal. “Will ye let me be yer Da?” He spread his fingers, poking his thumb to his forehead.

Faith hummed and jiggled a bit, but Jamie held the sign patiently. After a few seconds, she giggled, and then copied him exactly, thumb on forehead. Fingers splayed.

Da.

Jamie laughed out loud, fit to burst with joy. He released Claire’s hand to wrap his arms around his wee girl, and Joe and Gail broke into applause. He felt Claire fall to her knees beside him, and his heart cracked open to hear her openly weeping. He folded her into his embrace as well, and she pressed her face into the crook of his neck, fisting his jacket in one hand, caressing Faith’s curls in the other.

“Oh, Jamie…” she blubbered against his skin. “I love you…”

“I love you, too, mo chridhe. Wi’ my whole heart.”

When the three of them finally released each other from their embrace, Jamie freed the necklace from the box and fastened it around Faith’s neck. She rubbed it between her fingers, pulled it up and rubbed it on her cheek, and jiggled it in her hands.

“It’s beautiful, Jamie,” Claire breathed against his neck.

“D’ye think she likes it?”

“She does.”

“D’ye think she…understands?”

They looked at Faith for a moment, grinning from ear to ear as she fiddled with her necklace.

“I think she does.” Claire pressed a kiss into the crook of his neck. “If nothing else, she knows that you love her, Jamie.” Claire met his eye and held up the sign, trembling lips curling into a smile. He repeated the sign, touching their fingers together as he’d often seen mother and daughter do, and their foreheads rested together. “And she loves you, too. She doesn’t say what she doesn’t mean.”

A tear slipped from Jamie’s eye and trickled down Claire’s nose, and they kissed one another sweetly, I love you’s still pressed together.

Gail and Joe suddenly got closer, calling Faith over to them. Jamie broke into a wide grin, watching from the corner of his eye; the last part of the plan was nearly complete.

“Go on, baby,” Gail said. “Go put them on, just like we practiced.”

Faith scampered back to them, bounding and skipping and squealing with glee. Jamie exchanged a look with Claire, who seemed utterly bewildered, and who somehow looked completely and utterly beautiful, even red and swollen from tears of joy.

Jamie ducked his head and allowed Faith to clumsily place the hat atop his head, and then watched as she plopped the one with the bow on Claire. Faith squealed again and jumped up and down, clapping her hands in triumph and then flapping relentlessly.

“What on Earth…?” Claire turned to look at Jamie, and then burst into laughter.

Faith had put Mickey Mouse ears on them both — well, Minnie Mouse for Claire if you accounted for the red bow.

“D’ye no’ find me rather dashing?” he teased, and Claire laughed all the harder. “Here. Look.”

Jamie removed the hat, and Claire did the same, then Jamie held them side by side. Claire exhaled with a breathy laugh, leaning her cheek into Jamie’s shoulder as she read the words that Jamie had had embroidered onto the backs, his and hers respectively:

I asked

I said yes!

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pluviophile-imagines · 4 years

Note

Shiggy hand 🕴🕴

I gotchu anon

You think, maybe, that you’re being a little heavy-handed (pun absolutely not intended, but hilarious nonetheless).

Really, it’s the oldest trick in the book. You used to scoff and roll your eyes at the girls who would do it with their crushes in high school—oh, if they could see you now, a secret villain trying to make a pass at your infamous boss.

To be fair, Shigaraki’s hands are quite nice, large and slightly veiny but in a nice way, with long fingers that aren’t quite spindly or skeletal but just thick enough. They’re deadly, though; if his touch were less lethal you’d have done this weeks ago. Instead, it’s taken days of planning with Magne and Toga to get a solid plan in the works. But you’re certain it’ll be worth it—it’s an investment, a present you’re hoping both you and he will be thankful for in the future.

Magne informs you as you walk into the bar tonight that the package you ordered had arrived, and that Toga had already delivered it to Shigaraki. He’s not out in the main area with the others, but he’ll make his entrance now that you’ve arrived. You’re pretty sure past the first week of joining up he’d never missed a single day you’d visited (and to be fair, that could be written off as simply being a good leader, considering your appearances are a lot more rare than those of your other associates save perhaps for Dabi, but you like to think he wants to be around you).

Sure enough, not even three minutes after you make yourself comfortable at a small table in the corner away from where everyone else is sitting, Shigaraki stalks into the bar with a small package held in one hand, pinky up like always; you’ve always found that cute.

“What’s that?” You try to act coy as he comes to find a chair across the table you’re seated at. You’re pretty sure he knows you’re behind this; he’s not a fool, and Toga’s not the quietest of your colleagues (though none of them are exactly quiet right now as they greet their leader quite loudly and he solidly ignores them in favor of, well, you).

“Toga gave it to me.” He’s willing to play along at least, and you’re fairly certain that’s a good sign. Occasionally when you set him up like this he’ll be a bit more amused. If anything, he looks more nervous; he’s not wearing Father, but he’s keeping his head low, letting his hair drape over and provide some cover for his crimson eyes.

Five fingers brush against the shipping envelope, quick and efficient, no need for a knife. A single sealed package is left on the table in the dusty remains. He picks it up, two fingers raised this time, and inspects it.

“She said they were anti-fouling gloves.”

“Artists use them.” You lean forward, resting your chin in the palm of your hand and looking up at your boss through your eyelashes. “They reduce smudging for traditional mediums, friction with tablets…”

They’re black, made of nylon, covering his pinky and ring finger and velcroing around the wrist. Costing less than $10, you’d actually gotten three pairs, because you’re pretty sure there’ll be a bit of a learning curve getting them on.

“You seem to know an awful lot about a present Toga got me.”

He definitely knows you’re behind this, then, but still no clear indication of if he’s put two-and-two together as to why, or even if he’s more excited or nervous for what you have planned.

Instead of getting yourself worked up thinking about that, you reach forward and gently take the packaged gloves from his hands, busying yourself with opening them.

“I think they’ll suit you.” It’s a bit of a struggle; kind of embarrassing, but you play it off by ignoring it as you take out your pocket knife and cut the package entirely, leaving you with a pair of identical black swaths of fabric. “There we go.”

You don’t allow yourself to hesitate or give him a chance to take them from your hand. Dropping on, you reach forward to take hold of his left wrist, pulling it towards you so that you hold his hand over the table right between the pair of you.

Shigaraki’s hands are weapons, this you know; you’ve seen him in action plenty of times between sparring and watching the news. You’ve never quite had the chance to touch them like this—actually, now that you think of it, you don’t know if you’ve ever really touched them at all. He’s not the most tactile person; even when you’ve sparred with him he hasn’t bothered to help you up.

This was a mistake. You shouldn’t have thought you could get away with it.

But when you pause halfway to pulling the glove over his fingers, he doesn’t let you retreat. His free hand comes up, three fingers holding you hostage so you can’t set down the glove.

Your breath hitches. You glance up to see him staring at you, face no longer hidden behind that blue hair and eyes locked on yours, and the intense look in those irises makes your heart beat a little faster. You can’t quite place what emotion he’s trying to get across, something like anxiety or anticipation or excitement. He doesn’t say anything, but the message is loud and clear: don’t stop. Keep going.

So you do.

You pull the glove all the way onto his wrist and velcro it closed. His gaze moves to it now, and you watch as he slowly moves to plant four fingers onto the top of the table, then solidly presses his thumb down. Nothing happens. There’s a little hint of a smile that quirks his mouth as his eyes dart back up to you, then immediately to where your own hands lay laced together on the table before you.

That’s enough of an invitation, you decide. You lift your right hand just as Shigaraki removes his left from the table—you’re pretty sure he’s caught on—and raise it so that it hovers, almost touching.

Then you press your palm to his, fingers bowed back so they still don’t touch. He’s warmer than you expected; you’re not sure why you expected his hands to be cold, but somehow you did, and it’s a pleasant surprise that they’re not.

His eyes never leave where your hands touch, anchored there, but you’re captivated by his face. You watch his Adam’s apple bob with a swallow and decide to go further.

One by one, you press your fingertips to his (or rather, as much as you can, because his are long and on a notable few yours don’t quite reach), pinky and then ring, followed by middle and pointer, and then thumb. Still gauging his reaction, you let your fingers rest fully, hand entirely pressed flush to his.

You hear him sigh; a quiet sound, one you’re pretty sure you weren’t meant to hear but cherish nonetheless. He’s stark still, stiff and unmoving, and you’re floored by how much you like this simple touch.

Is it intimate? You can’t really tell. It’s strange; you’re pretty sure those high school girls who flirt this way aren’t this stunned by it, but to be fair none of them are doing it to an S-class villain whose hand could kill them with a simple slip-up. Your heart is beating fast; you wonder, fleetingly, stupidly, if he can hear it. Now that your fingertips are also pressed against his, his warmth is more obvious, sending gooseflesh rising up your arms.

It’s dumb, you think, insecurity sinking into you. Shigaraki probably thinks you’re a fucking airhead. But the words come automatically; you’re possessed by the spirit of those little high school girls you used to envy as a first year and they spill out as if drilled into your mind.

“Wow. Your hands are so big compared to mine…”

Behind you, all the way at the other side of the bar, Dabi lets out an emphatic groan. “Jesus fucking Christ.”

You whip around towards him, shooting him a glare and flipping him the bird to get a lazy eye roll in response. Ordinarily you’d get at least a little huff of laughter from Shigaraki for that, but he stays uncharacteristically silent, which pulls your attention solidly away from Dabi and back to the man you really want to be talking to because damn if that didn’t make you all the more insecure.

You’re not sure if you’ve given Shigaraki or yourself too much credit, but this was clearly a bad idea. Either you’re too awkward to pull this off or he’s too awkward to pick up your signals. Maybe it’s a mixture of both. Either way, you can feel your face burning.

You move to pull away, removing your palm just barely, but Shigaraki’s hand stops you. It follows, as if desperate to keep you there, and in the same motion his fingers shift.

He moves them to the right just slightly, aligning with the gaps between yours, and then tentatively threads both of your fingers together, resting the pads of his on the back of your hand.

Your gaze shoots up from your now linked hands to his face. His Adam’s apple bobs again. He might not have Father to cover him, but he’s tipped his head further downward so that curtain of pale blue hair shields his whole face from you—you can’t tell if he’s still staring at your joined hands or if he’s moved on, but you’re decently certain he’s still looking at you.

“I can’t wear them often or I’ll get out of practice going without them, and I can’t risk that,” he says softly, almost reverently; you get the feeling he might be talking about you. His head tilts up slightly and you decide, quite suddenly, that you’re very glad he’s been covering his face. He’s giving you a look that takes your breath away. The way his red eyes are wide and blown and soft like a villain’s should never be is not something you think you want anyone else to see. It’s yours; you want to keep it all to yourself.

He gives a little squeeze and you swallow thickly as his mouth quirks up, just barely. “But maybe I’ll keep them on just a bit longer.”

#bnha x reader #bnha imagine #shigaraki x reader #shigaraki imagine #shigaraki tomura x reader #shigaraki tomura imagine #shimura tenko x reader #shimura tenko imagine #mha x reader #mha imagines #anon #IGNORE ME POSTING THIS TWICE IT WASNT SHOWING UP IN THE TAGS #ask.🌧#char.🌧 shigaraki #mine.🌧

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busycryin · 3 years

Text

REPOST - THE NIGHT WE MET

THE NIGHT WE MET

PART ONE - THE NIGHT WE MET

Pairing: Javier Peña/ Female Murphy!Reader

Words: 5.3k

Summary: You decide to travel to Colombia on a whim, there you meet a gorgeous stranger that just so happens to be your brothers partner.

Content Warnings: 18+ Smut-ish (I wouldn’t wanna read it out to my mom), dry humping, dirty talk in Spanish which reader doesn’t understand so does it really count?, gratuitous love of the black shirt from the torture scene.

Anon was worried about losing my work when I switched blogs, so fear not. I’m reposting on here but I have no intention of deleting my other blog, it’s where I got my first 200 notes and I’m honestly blown away by it. I’m happy to announce I’m working on a fourth part. I’m not sure when I’ll post it as I’m still in the idea stage but it’s definitely a start, ay!

AO3

MASTERLIST

Author Note: So here is my return to writing! The word count got away from me but I loved every second of it. Always after prompts, so drop me a message on here if you’d like to see anything in particular. If it’s in my wheelhouse, you’ll definitely see it.

Pedro in the black shirt is what inspired me to write this, I can’t lie.

If you were brutally honest with yourself, this spur of the moment decision may have been a mistake.

Other people could make these choices and not have that nagging feeling in their gut from the second they booked their fuckin’ airline ticket. You had attempted to grab your crappy life by its metaphorical horns and go and sort this shit show out by yourself, but after your momentary bravery was used up, all that was left was a crippling anxiety that threatened to send you into one of your full scale panic attacks if you thought too hard about the fact you were following your big brother to Colombia.

Yes, Colombia. You, a U.S. national with no particular interest in hunting Pablo Escobar, had decided to vacation in sunny, crime ridden Bogot�� on a whim.

You were fuckin’ dumb.

Sarcasm aside, you weren’t actually here on vacation, you were going to check on Stevie. Your brother, one of the DEA agents assigned with taking down Escobar.

You’d been worried about him for a few months, it had sounded like he was dealing with heavy shit in South America, you knew that was the job, but he was still your brother.

His calls had gotten less and less frequent until he stopped returning them all together and the only reason you knew he was alive were your pep-talks with your sister-in-law, trying to help her keep her shit together, but hell, you weren’t a therapist or a miracle worker. So when Connie rang asking to stay at your place you had obliged and she had returned to Miami a mere shell of her former self.

After a mammoth amount of prodding over the course of two days you managed to wring the truth out of her, not the nuggets of information she had given you over the phone in hushed whispers during her time in Colombia but the whole messy story; the communist Elisa Alvarez, Steve’s kidnapping and the cold edges your brother was developing.

It was all you could do not to book the tickets there and then, but you held out and supported Connie in the ways Steve couldn’t have, taking care of Olivia when you could and just trying your hardest to be there for her. Your presence alone seemed to be enough to help her through the days that followed. A week and a half after her return, you booked your flight to Colombia in secret.

You had to check on Steve.

He hadn’t answered a single one of your many many calls. You packed light and told Connie the morning of, and whilst she didn’t like it, she understood. You supposed that a part of her was relieved to know her husband would have someone in Colombia that wasn’t there to kill him.

So here you sat, two hours into your flight to the paradise destination; Bogotá. Your brother’s address scrawled on a scrap piece of paper in the one hand and a glass of cheap whiskey in the other. The alcohol did little to to calm your nerves, this was a dangerous place for a cop, let alone a fuckin’ clueless civilian.

When the plane finally touched down, you stood from your seat emptying the last few drops of whiskey which had tried to evade you onto your tongue, you picked up your backpack and queued to leave the plane.

The second you left the aircraft the humidity hit you like a brick wall, it was like all of the fresh air had been sucked out of the atmosphere. On a normal evening you would appreciate such a warm climate, but now the heat meant frustration to your tired brain and it only added to your baseline levels of anxiety as your hairline and upper lip were drenched as you walked through the arrivals gate.

Cards on the table; you didn’t have much of a game plan, you spoke no Spanish and stuck out like a sore thumb. You had the address but no means to get there, you didn’t relish the idea of getting in a taxi as a woman alone in a foreign country, but with little to no other options you went to hail one of the cabs that sat outside the airport.

Your fears turned out to be for naught, well not quite naught as the man had raked his eyes across your body for a large percentage of the trip in his mirror, but he had the good grace not to kidnap or murder you, which for you meant it was a successful journey, how low you had set the bar was just occuring to you.

After paying the gentleman he dropped you outside what appeared to Steve’s apartment building. You take a moment on the pavement to recollect yourself ready for your reunion. Peeling your denim jacket off, you decide instead to wrap it around your waist, tying the sleeves securely. With a harumph, you grab the handle of your suitcase, and drag it behind you. Your success thus far gives you a second wind of determination.

Though apparently dumb luck can only get you so far, because after heaving your suitcase up a flight of stairs and rapping on the door of apartment 20 until your knuckles ached, it began to dawn on you, you had no clue if this was even the right building.

“Fuck.” you mutter to yourself, you should’ve rang Connie or tried Steve again when you landed, but you’d been so single minded in carrying out your plan all common sense had apparently abandoned you. So with a million different scenarios of things you could’ve done better playing out behind your eyes you dragged your suitcase to the small lobby of the building, where the front door stood.

You huffed and dropped onto the bottom step in surrender, not quite sure where to go from here.

Weeks of anxiety and worry finally took their toll on your body as reality set in, and as it did so you couldn’t help but laugh at the sheer stupidity of the situation you’d put yourself in. A light chuckle escaped your body as you held your face in your hands, you rubbed at your eyes as a way of refreshing yourself before sighing and leaning back.

You must have sat with your head in your hands for around three hours before anyone of note arrived, you had received strange looks from residents in their comings and goings as they stepped around you, your expectant looks turned to disappointment when you realised they weren’t Steve. In fairness, you, a gringa sitting on the stairs at 2am, most likely wasn’t a daily occurrence to these homeowners.

By the time he came through the door, your eyes were closed and your head was leant on the bannister, trying to get what little rest you could. Your eyes opened a crack to see a man and a woman enter the building and turn right, the man had his arm around her as he stared at you in confusion, the look was so quick you may have missed it if you blinked, but they were talking in low whispers of Spanish and from the looks of things he didn’t give you a second thought.

So you extended him the same courtesy and shut your eyes once again, you heard the metal jangling of keys going into the lock, the sound of smacking lips and then the door was closed. You figured that was the end of it, instead you heard hurried footsteps coming towards you, your eyes shot open as he rounded the corner.

“Estás bien?” The man questioned. It took you a moment to realise he was talking to you, as you took him in you were struck by your stupidity, how could you have dismissed this man so quickly even in the throes of a mental breakdown. His chocolate brown eyes bore into your own as you realised he was waiting for a response.

“Uh… no hablo… español?” you pretty much asked him, cringing internally at your butchering of the most basic sentence of this gorgeous strangers language, his lips quirked at your mumbles making his mustache raise on one side with his smirk. Now, you’d never been a fan of a mustache, Steve and your father had both taken to styling their facial hair in such a way, and as a rule of thumb they were a big no-no. But my god. This man made that mustache his bitch and that bitch worked for him.

“You’re American?” He questions, smirk dropping along with his eyebrows in confusion as his brain processes the information.

“Oh thank god and Jesus fuckin’ christ above. You’re American!” Your timid nature had given way to pure unadulterated relief. “Stevie, Steve Murphy, he lives in this building, yeah?”

“Yeah… Stevi…Steve lives here- I’m sorry, who the hell are you?” He asks with a puzzled look and a shake of his head, there’s an air of distrust about him for some strange reason.

“I’m Y/N Murphy, I’m his sister.”

“Sister? Mierda… does he know you’re here?”

“Nope,” You pop your P as you shrug at the man before you with false nonchalance. “He’d have to answer the phone to me or Connie to know that now, wouldn’t he?”

“Steve.” The stranger sighed, annoyed.

“Sorry, who are you?” You asked, yourself becoming more bemused by the man by the second.

“I’m Steve’s partner, Javier.” He held out his hand which you were more than happy to take in a shake, his tan hand was soft yet strong as it held your own captive within it. “C’mon in I’ll give him a call, God knows what time he’s planning on getting back.”

“Uh, I don’t want to interrupt…” You mumble, waving your free hand vaguely towards where you knew the woman was waiting for him, making him smirk once again.

You were beginning to think that the sarcastic raise of his mouth was just his default resting face.

“You’re not interrupting anything.”

Now I know what you’re thinking, ‘cause I’d think it to. This is how people die in America, let alone fuckin’ Colombia, but if it’s a choice between dying at the hands of a gorgeous man who seems to know your brother or a stray that wonders in through the non-descript lobby door then you’d rather go out with a nice view, even if he did have a girlfriend.

If you had to gamble, you’d say you had a damn good chance of making it out of this apartment alive.

So you nodded and used the hand he hadn’t released yet to pull yourself up into a standing position. He wasn’t particularly tall but he still towered over you, your eyeline gave you a great view past his black shirt which was unbuttoned quite liberally, you assumed that was courtesy of the woman he’d entered with.

“Thank you,” you nodded at him with a genuine smile of relief. He didn’t reply, only grabbed the handle of your pull along suitcase before extending his arm towards his apartment and motioning to wordlessly say, after you.

Now you know how people say when you can feel a stare? You had the sensation before, but as you leaned over to pick up your backpack from the bottom step, you felt his eyes laser focus on your denim clad ass. You turned your head in disbelief and found his eyes still lingered there for a moment before meeting your own. Unbelievable. Part of you was flattered, the other part was bemused that he had a beautiful woman in there waiting and here he was ogling you.

You rolled your eyes, instilled with a new confidence as you turned and walked towards his apartment, you felt his eyes follow your form once more.

Steve’s hot partner was an ass man… Good to know.

…

As it turns out Javier’s girlfriend, or what you we’re starting to think was more of a one night stand, was not happy with the situation at all, you came to this discovery as Javier pointed you to the sofa before beginning arguing with her in hushed Spanish, the beautiful woman huffed and sent a dirty look your way before storming out and slamming the door behind her, with enough power to make it shake in its bearings. You raised your eyebrows at Javier from your seat. He shook his head with a sigh and began lighting up a cigarette, he turned and offered you one.

“No thanks, I quit.”

“Woman with an iron will?”

“Not quite,” You whisper, shaking your head.

He smiles before clearing his throat and moving over to pick up his landline. Javier presses a combination of buttons, before putting it to his ear and blowing the smoke from his lungs. His eyes met yours as the phone rang, he gave you reassuring wink.

“Murphy? … Yeah… you need to get back to your place now… You’ve got a guest…. No … come find out why don’t you?” Sarcasm dripped from his lazy tone, his voice was so smooth. It was like chocolate on gravel, you could listen to him talk for hours, which led your mind down that deep dark hole of what he sounded like during more carnal acts, he’d be a talker, for definite, what with all that confidence and swagger. “‘Kay… I’ll see you soon.”

Shaking your head you centred yourself, it had been a dry patch for you. You needed to calm down and not throw yourself at your brother’s partner, even if he just so happened to be the first man you had any interest in to show you attention in months.

“He’s on his way,” He confirmed what you already knew but you liked hearing him speak so you nodded in thanks. An awkward silence filled the air for a few moments, as you two perfect strangers shared one another’s company.

“Drink?” He offered pointing at the bottle of whiskey on the counter.

“God, yes.” You all but moaned at the offer. Javier chuckled, and grabbed a second glass from his cupboard, before pouring you both a generous serving. He walked around the back of the sofa, and passed you the glass of liquid gold and took a seat next to you. Close enough to initiate something, but not touching, quite a respectful distance.

Initiate something? God Y/N, get your mind out of the gutter. This poor man had only invited you in because you were his partner’s sister and he was doing the decent thing.

“Uh… The television work?” You ask, pointing at the empty screen.

“I didn’t realise you could speak Spanish…” His voice was dripping with sarcasm, mocking your earlier attempts at the language, though he reached across and switched the box on with the remote, he began flicking through the channels so quickly he almost gave you a headache.

“Oh yes, I’m very proficient, I just didn’t want to intimidate you earlier. Hola Señor Javier.” You say continuing his ruse. He chuckles at your words, it’s a deep warm noise that shakes his entire frame. You were definitely thinking about adding Javier’s voice to your top ten list of favourite sounds.

He flicks through the channels, for a few seconds before sighing and dropping the remote in your lap. Taking your assignment seriously, you sit up, bringing yourself a few inches closer to the man next to you, purely accidentally of course and begin flicking through the channels as Javier had done moments before, though 3am TV scheduling left a lot to be desired.

News, News, Colombian QVC, News, News, Soap opera. Bingo!

“Ah, now we’re talking.” You mumble, eyes stuck on the screen of the Colombian Soap opera playing. The two of you sat in silence once again as you slowly sipped on your drinks watching drama play out.

You watched in silence for around ten minutes, not understanding a single word of what was being said. The scene was on two latino actors sitting in a bedroom. The woman was sat on the bed being confronted by the man in a serious tone.

“What is she saying?” You question narrowing your eyes at the beautiful woman’s tone. Javier, who had been watching your reactions the whole time as you got into the awful tv show scrambled as he tried to listen and translate the woman’s words.

“Uh… her dads an alcoholic and she’s trying to support her son… that guy didn’t know about the son… I think… she was happy living a double life without the worry and she wants him to forgive her and start over…” Javier translated, giving you the general cliff notes.

“Oh shit,” You gasped at his words, but your attention diverted to the screen where the two had continued their heated argument and began kissing or rather where the man was devouring her neck, “I’m getting vibes that he might be open to forgiving her.”

You chuckled at your own joke, as did Javier. Though this time when his body shook his bare elbow touched your own.

How was he so goddamn warm?

All he was wearing was a black button down shirt. One that looked to be the wrong size it was so tightly fitted- not that you were complaining about the view. My God, were you horny today.

You took a gulp of your drink, trying to refocus for the third or fourth time this evening, trying so desperately to reign in your inner school girl and focus on the television, though that didn’t help as the actors were now eating one anothers faces on a bed. The silence was thick with tension, though that could’ve been entirely on you; one innocent touch of a man’s elbow and you’re a blushing mess.

Get a grip Y/N.

The silence dragged on as you pretended to watch the soap opera you had absolutely no understanding of in a futile attempt to ignore the man next to you. You can only imagine what he thought of your levels of focus on the tv, as you stared at the box in the corner of the room like it was the greatest cinematic masterpiece of all time and you were getting ready to write a full-scale analysis on the work of art.

Javier broke the tension in the room by finally asking the question that had been on his lips all evening.

“You came all the way to Colombia… Why?” Javier grabbed a cigarette off of the coffee table, placing his drink where the carton of smokes had been. He lit the stick and waited for your response, honestly, you were thrown. The question had come out of nowhere whilst you were still trying to analyse why exactly this man had such an effect on you when he was doing nothing but being a good host. You hastened to think up a half coherent reply before you just answered truthfully.

“Steve stopped answering the phone, I mean he’s always been shitty at checking in, even when he was in Miami. When he got here we’d have a catch up every week or so, we all know how dangerous it is for you guys over here, so we joked about calling it ‘the alive check’. For the last couple of months, I was checking in with Connie more than Steve but he’d still pick up once every week, without fail. Then four weeks ago the fucker stopped answering my calls all together and Connie showed up on my doorstep with Olivia in tow last week.”

“Look, you coming down here probably makes more problems than it solves, Steve’s a big boy if he doesn’t call to check in, it’s probably ‘cause he’s busy… He’s-” Something about Javier’s dismissive tone rubbed you the wrong way, call it sleep deprivation or blame the weeks of stress, but you were tired of being called paranoid. You were not an overbearing mother hen.

“My brother always answers my calls. Or at least he used to. I can’t begin to understand what you guys are going through, but I’m not losing my brother to some piece of shit Colombian drug dealer.”

Javier raised his hands in mock surrender, cigarette still in mouth. “He’s actually more of a drug lord slash narcoterrorist, but-”

“How is he?” You interrupt Javier’s attempt at diffusing the situation with humor, turning to him on the sofa. You rearranged yourself, bringing your leg up so your knee touched his thigh as you gave him your full attention, you plucked the smoke from between his lips and held it between your two fingers as you spoke. “Tell me Steve’s fine. Tell me I’m worrying for nothing and I’ll get back on that plane and leave tomorrow morning.“

You take one drag and offer it back to him, he accepts it, deliberately looking you in the eyes as he places the cigarette in his mouth, attaching his lips to where your own had been seconds earlier. He takes it from his mouth and stubs it on an ash tray that rests on the arm of the sofa, his focus is single minded on his task. The pressure in your lower stomach is mounting as you stare at the tanned man before you who is carrying out a menial task that has you more turned on than you’d ever admit.

When the red tip is extinguished thoroughly, taking much longer than you thought it needed to, Javi turns to you, his mahogany eyes have you pinned in your tracks. You found yourself admitting they were gorgeous for the second time this evening, they were the type of brown you could never quite describe, they had so much depth, not quite a chocolate, not quite coffee, they were rich and deep pools. They reminded you of the forest, not the green leaves but the earthy brown, the strong beams of wood that held everything up around it.

Javier’s hand emigrated forward slowly, your eyes followed the movement in your peripheral but you didn’t dare look away from the pools of molasses as he reached to grip one hand at your denim thigh, his eyes roamed your face for any sign of this being an unwelcome approach and when he found none his other hand began its climb to rest on your jaw, just below your ear.

You couldn’t say if you moved towards him or if he advanced on you, all you knew was he was on you now as the tips of your noses rubbed against one another.

“Quiero saborearte…” He whispered so lowly you barely even heard it before he leaned in that last inch and captured your lips in a single, chaste kiss. Your lips connected and you realised the heat you had felt from his arms had been nothing. Fire coursed through your veins upon contact, surging through your blood and going south to a pressure that built in your lower stomach.

Your hand shot up to land on his collarbone, before you could even really consider your own actions you pulled apart until your foreheads were the only thing touching. He was intoxicating, you could lose yourself completely in this man, he somehow smelt like cinnamon, whiskey and sweat, a combination you’d never thought would send liquid fire through your central nervous system. You’d give anything to taste him properly, but this was wrong. So so wrong. This was your brother’s partner, this was inviting complication to your door, when you were just here to check on Steve. You were here for Steve.

You were here for Steve…

“… This isn’t a good idea.” You all but whisper, closing your eyes. Regret pulses through your veins at your self imposed restraint.

“Never is.” He leaned forward and captured your lips. You didn’t have any fight left in you, exhausted and at wits end you embraced your spiral into stupidity instead and your hands glided across the clammy skin of his neck to grab at his short ink black hair. You wrapped your fingers around it to drag him closer to you, your lips clashed, all teeth at first but you didn’t care as his tongue began to fight against yours for dominance.

He tasted as good as you imagined, he was the right combination of sweet and bitter, with undertones of whiskey and tobacco on his tongue. Your response to his assault on your mouth told him it was go time, Javier pulled you into his lap and his hands lowered to your ass. Your body was flush with his own as your breasts pressed against his chest, you could feel every solid line of his lithe body against your own.

You licked at his honied tongue, before withdrawing and pulling his bottom lip into your mouth and sucking on the soft plush skin. His mustache tickled your upper lip, a sensation you weren’t used to but could so easily grow to love. This made him tighten his grip on your backside in response and he let out a throaty groan at the meat he found there, Javier was definitely an ass man, you felt his bulge pressing against your core as you both began grinding against each other in earnest. You felt like a horny teenager as you grinded on a man you barely knew.

You felt him grip at the bottom of your tank top and begin to lift it, except he stopped, and began to rub patterns on the stomach he exposed. Javier’s mouth descended from your lips to begin to suck and lick at your throat. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head at his work as pleasure rippled throat your body. His hands slid the length of your body to grab at your chest, which conforming to every stereotype was heaving, he palmed your breast blindly as his face was still buried in your hair, sucking and kissing along to your ear, before he raised his mouth a mere inch and whispered “Te follaré toda la noche niña.”

He said it with such surety that your body convulsed in on itself without even needing to know what the man above you was saying. You could only hope it was absolutely filthy and profanity ridden, because then at least, the sentiment would be shared. He bit at the lobe of your ear before his hands left your breasts and travelled to the hem of your tank top, getting ready to pull it over your head.

It was strange to say that you remembered your brother was on his way here as a man tried to take your t-shirt off, but that’s just the way it went. You knew if that top came off, dry humping would be the most PG action of the night and if Steve turned up and found you mounted on his partner, he probably wouldn’t be too thrilled.

You couldn’t stop yourself from stroking the man’s hair whose face was planted in between your tits as his hips rose against your own pushing his hardened length up against the seams of your jeans, you gasped as he hit that sweet spot. You let out a noise that sounded like a wail. You wanted nothing more than to lie back and let this man have his filthy way with your body. And you know, from the hour you’ve spent with this man it would be phenomenally filthy. The kind of sex that would ruin all men for you, but no. You had to be a good sister. Like a fuckin loser.

Sighing, you threw your body sideways before you could change your mind and ended up on your back. Javier followed you, caging you with his frame as he covered your body with his own. Gripping your face like he was a starving man and you were the only sustenance he’d ever need. It would be so easy to get lost in him, to give in to that magic tongue but you couldn’t let this go any further so you placed a hand on his chest.

Taking your cue he paused his tongues assault on your mouth and stopped, resting his forehead against your own. You were both breathing heavily trying to come back down to reality, his eyes were no longer the chocolate brown you’d been comforted by when you met, but rings of obsidian staring into your soul. You wanted this man, my god you did. But this would make more problems for Steve.

The two of you stayed that way for a while, foreheads and bodies pressed against one another until both of your breathing evened out. The silence dragged, heavy in the air as you two strangers both waited for the other to break it.

“…Is Steve okay?”

“…No… He’s been fuckin’ mess ever since Connie left.” Javier sighed whilst closing his eyes and breathing deep. You raised your hands from his chest, which was difficult as he was crushing his body to yours and cupped his cheek, you joined your lips once more, much like the first kiss. This was sweet and there wasn’t a carnal appetite behind it but rather an understanding.

The loud knock on the front door startles you both as you’d been so wrapped up in one another you’d not heard the steps leading to it. The two of you split apart like a pair of guilty teens caught in the act. You both stared at each other for a second before he nods at you and walks to the front door whilst rearranging his bulge discreetly in his jeans, this was something you pretended not to see as you sat back up right on the sofa. You had only a moment to fix yourself, as you pulled your tank top from where it was hooked by your breasts and ran your fingers through your hair so you didn’t look like you’ve just had the ravaging of a lifetime.

Javier pulled open the door and you clutch your hands into your lap, not quite sure what kind of reception you were about to receive from your brother. You hear the two men greet one another in hushed whispers, you couldn’t make out Steve’s voice much until you hear his voice clear as day “…what the hell was so important it couldn’t wait until tomorrow?”

You stand from your spot on the sofa and quickly realise the button on your jeans is undone; if you’re honest you don’t even know how he managed to do that without you noticing, even though it’s not the time you take a solitary second to commend Javier on his artistry of disrobing a woman. Turning quickly you pull the rivet back through the hole and swing around as Steve crosses the threshold from the hallway.

Steve looks from you, to Javier and then back to you once more in complete surprise. It takes his brain a hot second to process that you’re here in front of him and in Colombia before he rushes you. Clutching you tight and hugging you to his chest. You hear something that sounds suspiciously like a sob leave your brothers chest before he collapses into you. The front door and Javier’s bedroom both in rapid succession, giving you the privacy you knew your brother would need after breaking down like this.

You couldn’t support Steve’s weight with your considerably smaller frame and the two of you fell to the ground as you held your broken brother. His body shook with silent sobs as he buried his face in your shoulder.

You said nothing as you held him and stroked his hair. In that moment you thanked your every instinct that screamed at you to come to Colombia.

This had definitely not been a mistake.

#pedro pascal x reader #javier pena x reader #javier peña x reader #repost #narcos fanfiction

84 notes · View notes

fandom-puff · 4 years

Text

Home alone

Pairing: Remus Lupin x Reader

Requested by: @obsessedwithrandomthings

Prompts: E6 (dom/sub dynamic) and E10 (orgasm denial) from Smut Prompts

Summary: an empty house, and no protective older brother watching your every move. What could go wrong?

AN: thank you for requesting this! I hope you enjoy it!! Also, I cannot title for shit :)

Warnings: smut, a naff title, Dom/sub dynamics

“Look after her, Remus, while I’m out, alright,” your brother said, preparing to go out spying as padfoot.

“Oi! I’m twenty six, I can look after myself, thank you very much,” you said, hitting him over the head, but giving him a tight hug all the same. “Take care of yourself, Sirius,” you said into his shoulder. “Because I’ll kill you if you get hurt,” he laughed and soon slinked out of Grimmauld Place.

The door shut, leaving you and Remus alone in the empty, miserable house. “Er... there’s a boggart in my desk drawer,” you blurted. “Can you... help me out with it? I’ve not been too good with them on my own since I came back here,” you murmured, blushing slightly. You didn’t want Remus to think you ask weak. Despite being twenty six, you still felt like Remus and Sirius saw you as a little kid.

“Alright, lead the way,” Remus said kindly. As you walked up the stairs, he couldn’t help but admire the way your hips swung. He quickly averted his eyes. You were his best friend’s little sister- what on earth was he doing checking you out. You opened your bedroom door, and pointed at the desk.

“Middle drawer,” you said, grabbing your wand.

“Okay, on three?” He said, readying himself. You nodded, preparing yourself for a deranged version of your brother and your terrifying cousin Bella to crawl out like the last time. Instead the boggart latched onto Remus first and with a quick ‘Riddikulus’ it was defeated. Remus smiled gently at you as he inspected the desk. “All gone,” he smiled warmly and you nodded. He stared at you for a moment and you blushed under his gaze.

“Fuck it,” you murmured, cupping his face in your hands and kissing him lightly, expecting him to pull away and laugh at you. Instead he deepened the kiss, groaning a little into your mouth before pulling away.

“Jesus Christ, YN, you’re my best friend’s sister,” he said, rubbing his forehead. You scoffed.

“So? I’m also a grown woman capable of making my own decisions thank you very much,” you argued, folding your arms defensively.

“It’s wrong! You’re almost ten years younger than me, your Sirius’s baby sister for god’s sake, you need someone young and whole and-”

“Don’t you dare start of the werewolf spiel, Remus Lupin!” You exclaimed, brows furrowing. “It May have escaped your notice, but I’ve been perfectly capable of taking care of myself since Sirius was arrested! I’ve done just fine since you all left me in this house with my mad family! And I don’t need you feeling sorry for yourself, making out like I need protecting! I’m not afraid of you Remus, werewolf or no! Now make up your fucking mind because mine is already made up!”

Through your rant, Remus couldnt help but stare ss colour flooded your cheeks as you got more and more wound up. “Alright! Alright! Stop shouting, YN,” he said loudly, grabbing onto your wrists.

“Fucking make me,” you hissed.

The effect was instantaneous. You were backed up until your knees hit your bed, remus kissing you as if you were his lifeline. “YN,” he grunted, teeth scraping against your neck as he worked his way down. It was as if Moony had completely taken over. “I swear to god, are you sure about this?”

“I’m yours, remus!” You whimpered, already breathless. It was all he needed. He tugged you away from the bed, and held you at arms length.

“Strip for me,” he demanded, pupils blown and lips drawn into a slight snarl as you tugged off your clothes. He laughed darkly as you almost stumbled kicking your jeans off. He then licked his lips. “Want to taste you,” he groaned, nostrils flaring as the scent of your arousal reached him. Sometimes his heightened senses were a curse. Right now they were a blessing.

You nodded eagerly, scrambling to lay back against your pillows as he eased your legs apart. He inhaled your musk, eyes rolling back as he drank in your scent, before he dove between your legs, licking your folds like a man starved, feasting on your arousal as he gathered it on his tongue and spread it around your clit. You arched your back off the bed, grabbing onto his hair with one hand and your bedsheets with the other, bucking your hips up to his hungry mouth. The noises he made as he feasted on you were obscene and wet, and although you were blushing, it was the most arousing thing that anyone had ever done to you. Within moments, you were throbbing, just seconds from your almighty release when he pulled away, holding your legs apart as you squirmed and whined. He saw your hand twitch and smirked. “Don’t you dare touch yourself,” he demanded, smirking as you whimpered beneath him. When he was sure you had calmed down, he returned, this time plunging his tongue into your quivering entrance, the strong muscle teasing your inner walls as his nose bumped your clit. Lip between your teeth, you whined needily, yanking on his hair with both hands as that burning, tight pressure cooled in your belly and-

He pulled away, again, shaking his head at your needy moans. “So desperate, aren’t you?” He teased, nipping your thigh gently. “Tell me why, yn. Use your words, good girl, tell me what you want,”

“Want- need- please, Remus?” You whimpered, but by his arched eyebrow you knew it wasn’t enough. “Need to come, remus, need you to make me come,” he grinned, flicking your clit with his calloused fingers, admiring you as he did.

“Very good, such a good girl, Hmm? Want my cock, YN?” He asked and chuckled when you nodded quickly. “I thought you might,” he quickly shed his jumper and corduroy trousers and boxers, his cock standing to attention, the tip weeping Precum. Squirming, you became aware of a tingling in your lower abdomen and knew he had cast a contraceptive charm. You smiled gratefully, and reached for him, wrapping your little hand around his cock and pumping it slowly, licking your lips subconsciously. “Soon, love,” he murmured, jaw slack. “You can taste me soon but right now... need to fuck that sweet little cunt of yours. I bet it feels as good as it tastes,”

You moaned at the utter filth spewing from his mouth, surprised it could come from sweet, quiet Remus Lupin. He hummed, spreading you legs a little wider to accommodate his broad hips as he slowly guided his cock into you. You squirmed at the stretch, letting out a low, long moan as you wriggled your hips to take more of him, not caring about adjusting just yet. He groaned at your wet warmth enveloping his cock and his arms shook slightly as he braced himself, his elbows resting either side of your head. “Move, remus, please,” you cried and he nodded, feeling you clench around him already, your body already perfectly wound up from his oral edging. You let out a little scream as he snapped his hips, pushing your breasts up to his chest as he fucked you roughly, brutally pummelling that sweet spot inside you that made you see stars. Your moans soon caught in your throat and all you could do was gasp as he pistoned into you ferociously, jaw clenched tight as he neared his orgasm. You cried out softly, begging him, vaguely aware of your own voice moaning “please,” over and over.

“Please what, YN?” He grunted, hips snapping, filling the room with the unmistakeable sound of an intense, passionate coupling.

“Please let me come, remus! Please!” A nod from his was all you needed as the coil in your belly finally released, causing floods of your juices to cover his cock, and your clenching milked his own orgasm from him as he came inside you with a growling shout of your name.

Spent, trembling and legless, you flopped back as he rolled off you, panting, before gathering you up in his arms. “Fucking hell,” he said once he finally caught his breath. “Are you alright, love?” He asked, rubbing your back and pushing hair out of your sweaty face. “I’m not normally that rough, I’m sorry. Did I hurt you?” He asked gently, but you shook your head.

“No,” you murmured. “Not in a bad way at least... I-I don’t think I’ll be able to walk straight tomorrow though,” you grinned, pressing your face into his chest. He laughed and held you close, casting a cleaning charm and tugging the covers over you.

“You did so well for me darling,” he murmured and you nodded.

“I’m glad,” you said before a cheeky smirk fixed itself on your face. “I quite liked being called a good girl, especially if I get to be YOUR good girl...”

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