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world-of-aus · 2 months

Text

How's Your Head?

Pairing: Firefighter! Bucky x Paramedic! Reader

Warnings: None.

Author's Note: The gym thoughts won.

“What happened Chief?”

Sam gives you a look, “I’m on the job so formalities only,” he cracks a smile, you roll your eyes biting back your own, “details on the injured chief where is he?”

He tilts his head to the back of the fire truck stationed feet away, “he’s at the back of the drill truck, Rogers is keeping him talking, got his head and shoulder banged up pretty good running drills.” You hoist your bag higher on your shoulder, “take me to him.”

You hear him before you see him, “Rogers I swear if you don’t get your damn fingers out of my face, I told you I’m fine, I’ve gotten hurt worse on the job there’s no need for all this fussin, you shouldn’t have called.”

“And that’ll be my call to make,” you say rounding the truck finding Lieutenant Barnes sat slouched over the back, ice pack pressed to his head, Captain Rogers pressing one to his shoulder. You place the bag next to him taking over the icepack pressed to the lieutenant's shoulder.

“I’ve got it from here Captain, you and chief are free to go.” you say excusing the two other men, they thank you letting the Lieutenant next to you know they’ll be at the station when he’s done.

You turn to the broad-shouldered brunette sitting in front of you his posture much straighter now that his colleagues have left a glint in his eyes and a cheeky smile on his lips as he looks at you, you already know you’re in for trouble.

“How are you feeling Lieutenant Barnes?”

The man groans, clutching his chest in dramatics, “You wound me, I’ve told you to call me Bucky sweetheart, we’re past lieutenant Barnes at this point.”

Your tongue pushes into your cheek, biting back the smile threatening to split your lips, “and I’m on the job lieutenant, now how are you feeling, any pain?” You question lifting the ice back from his shoulder, your fingers curling into the white top to peek at the reddened skin, a speckle of red and purple look back at you.

“Sweetheart if you want to see me shirtless all you have to do is ask.”

Ignoring his teasing comment, you press down on the skin softly drawing out a pained groan, “scale of one to ten what’s the pain level?”

“I’d say an 8 but a kiss could bring it down to 1, get my mind right off of it.”

You shake your head placing the icepack down “and how’s your head?” you continue getting right in front of him to remove the second icepack, your fingers combing softly through his hair to check for broken skin

“I’ve had no complaints.”

Your fingers pause in his hair, eyes meeting his amused ones, you laugh, “I meant your actual head Bucky, are you feeling pain?”

“Will you kiss it to make it better?”

“Bucky.”

“What about a date,” he continues, “I’d have something other than a headache to look forward to tonight.”

You chuckle fingers moving in his hair again, “you should be glad they called I’m pretty sure you’re suffering from a concussion.” you say examining his head again.

His hands find the sides of your thighs, the action rendering you motionless, your fingers still in his hair again eyes finding his, “I’m actually glad they called - I got to see you.”

He’s grinning at the smile you try so hard to hide. “C’mon sweetheart one date.”

“If I agree to this one date, will you let me finish checking you so I have something other than your incessant flirting to report back to the chief?”

“If you agree you can check me as thoroughly as you want sweetheart.”

“Fine Barnes, one date, one.” you stress.

“Oh sweetheart you and I both know it won’t only be one.”

#firefighter!bucky #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes drabble

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jhuzen · 8 months

Note

do you have any thirst hcs for grandpapi neuvi? if you do pls share i’m so hungry 🤲

hydro dragonussy [m.reader]

hello hello, guess who’s back to writing again? this is a warmup because i struggled hard in continuing my kaveh request wip and a buncha scenarios for sick reader w genshin men and jing yuan all at once. on second thought… i think i really shouldn’t have written everything all at once. not to mention i’m trying out quotev to publish my yandere oc/m.reader stuff for fun. + yes that is the title. it’s either that or crybaby old man dragon thirsts. you pick.

𖦹 nsfw, neuvi is a virgin old man, underlying mentions of reader being an attorney (we all know i have a bias for them anyway, have you seen my workload series? lmao), switch male reader, switch neuvi, though we’re heavily leaning on bottom neuvi for this one, honorable mentions of cockwarming and thigh fucking, brief mention of double penetration (reader receiving), gentle and rough sex, implied dacryphilia (you), breeding, fontaine rains whether or not he’s sad, his tears are the rain and i will drink them like a hungry eremite in the sumeru desert.

Let’s face it, Neuvillette has no time outside of his work as the Iudex of Fontaine, he’s constantly buried underneath those paperworks, and on top of that, when he’s not tackling mountains of cases, he’s out in the opera, presiding trial after trial when the Oratrice can already do the same thing for him.

So when you appeared in his life all of a sudden, he was new to all sorts of things. In his long life as a dragon, he has had little experience in what you can offer to him. He’s awkward for the first few moments of your relationship.

It’s the same to sex — you’d have to take initiative in every single little thing, show him the ropes like the good commander you are, and he obeys with no complaints. He sees that you enjoy it, and if you’re good at it and you’re willing to teach him, he is an obedient patient.

Old man’s heads are very clumsy at first, teeth scraping against your length while he slowly but surely bobbed his head. He’s slow, but he treats your little guy with so much care. Looking up at you with tears pricking at the ends of his eyes as he tried to please you as best as he could. Obligatory weather report — it’s a light drizzle in Fontaine.

But when you give him head, Neuvillette squirms, it doesn’t matter where he is, he could not keep himself still. It’s always obvious that even you cannot bring yourself to blow him semi-public in his office, just because you’re afraid a poor innocent little Melusine would come inside and see their beloved leader squirming around traumatize them. It would also be bad for his image if you guys get caught, so… sexy times are inside the comfort of his possibly huge home as much as possible.

Sex with him is slow and intimate, very romantic. What did you expect? He’s from Fontaine and they apparently love to romanticize things. Whether or not who’s on top when you guys are doing it, they are a lot more languid in style, like a moment of relaxation between the two of you.

A switch, though preferably a bottom. Yes, that’s right, old man Neuvillette likes to be serviced. He likes it when you’re the one filling him up so good. It’s hot and heavy, just the way he likes it.

He’s a tired man, so he’s definitely a pillow prince— no, a pillow king. He lays there and takes it like a good boy, only gazing at you with those soft eyes, hazy with love and lust while you continued to push into him. He takes your hand in his every time you enter him and he always squeezes your hand tight the deeper you go in.

Call him romantic and a basic man, but he lives for missionary. He wants to see you while he feels you stuff him full of your cock. He only writhes in the beginning while he tries to adjust around you, squeezing you tight inside him while his breath stutters, trying to take you in all at once.

If he’s the one in charge, it’s all the same, he’s gentle with his actions, though, honestly, he’d rather have you ride him instead. He likes to see you in all your glory, with you rolling your hips in such a needy manner while he kept you grounded, holding onto you as he caressed your thighs. It’s perfect for him.

Oh yeah, and this goes without saying — he’s a dragon, so he has two cocks. Fitting him in is a sport on its own, but you graduated with a major in fucking dragons, so you’re good. He’s a bit thicker on the side too, so each time you take him in, you could feel every inch of him, and every throb of his cocks is a heaven sent feeling that courses through your insides.

Please be gentle with him, he is an old tired man who hasn’t had a break. He is so vanilla that it’s boring but his cries are worth it.

He’s a very quiet man too, his moans are shy and light, a gasp here and there and a tiny whimper with every increment of speed adding into your thrusts.

Neuvillette is definitely the type to squirm and get away from you at first, but you just need to keep him still and hold him down by his thighs before you plow into him. He likes it though when you do it, it reassures him that you want to do this with him and that you’re not letting him go no matter what happens.

Another weather report: a good light rain. Not too heavy.

Now that all the sweet stuff is out of the way, rough sex is not as often as the usual vanilla one, but it’s not completely an uninvited guest between you two.

If you fucked him rough and hard, Neuvillette will cry and break. His poor pristine and unmarked body, filled to the brim with your greedy bite marks and hickeys, glowing red and bruising dark purple that leaves him embarrassed when they’re still around if you somehow managed to weasel in a rough session in the morning before he goes to work and you will be reprimanded for it once he’s home, no exceptions.

“No more of these obvious markings,” he’d say with a stern tone, only to end up face down on the pillow with his ass up while you found a loophole and devoured his entire back instead.

He hates that he can’t see you when you go rough on him, because it’s normally him ending up with his face buried into his pillow while he laid on his stomach, his hips being held up by you while you ruthlessly pounded into him without even an ounce of mercy.

He hates it, but at the same time, it does help with keeping his noise down because when you’re doing him so roughly, Neuvillette wails, he cries hard, with those pretty tears of his not letting up. He’d scream to the high heavens and were it not for the fact that your hand was forcing his head down into his soft pillow, the entirety of Fontaine would hear it.

Again, Neuvillette is a tired old man, so something so rough definitely leaves him drained, you’d constantly have to hold him up halfway through your little session.

Fucking him while he’s on his side and his one leg hooked over your shoulder is a great compromise, with how you can both still see each other Neuvillette can immediately turn his head to hide away into his pillow when he realizes he’s being a little too loud on his own good.

He’s definitely the kind to force himself to be quiet. If you fuck him without anything for him to bite into to hide his loud noises, he will cry and be embarrassed through out, barely even managing to cover his own mouth with his hand without an ounce of struggle while his body jerked up and down, following through every harsh punctuated thrust that you made into him. Weather report: Fontaine has a storm.

Neuvillette cries his heart out every time you go rough, full on sobbing and it is such a turn on. The way he makes garbled noises while he would protest into your roughness, hand gently pushing into yours while he asks for you to be gentler and go a little slower, only to cling helplessly into his pillow when his pleas fell into deaf ears.

His tears are just… divine. He cries so prettily and he does it with unwitting grace and class — somehow, he’s just innately beautiful in every thing that he does. There is no such thing as an unsightly sobbing to this man.

Neuvillette makes this soft noise in between a whimper and a gasp every time you hit his prostate spot on and he just shudders in delight, his breath shaky until he can barely think straight.

Gentle or rough, he’s definitely into breeding. Neuvillette has a breeding kink and anyone who thinks otherwise will sink deeper than Khaenri’ah. Stuff him full of your cum and he’s a happy and satisfied man.

It’s not just the feeling of your hot seed pumping him full that pleases him, but being around the Melusines, treating them like his children despite them being just his subordinates has definitely gotten this old man all too paternal. He likes the premise of being able to build a family with you, and he will nurture your children with all his being.

Thigh fucking? Thigh fucking. Though it’s rare, only when he’s really tired but still aches to please you, and even you’re too lazy to move a lot.

Bother him when he takes work at home by making him cockwarm you. He could not concentrate at all — squirming and squeezing around your cock so deliciously while you teased him about getting his work done.

Has definitely tried wall sex with you, with his back against the wall while you held him up. May or may not have happened at the opera after a heated trial when he ruled against your client and you were pissed your streak of wins on that week crumbled into dust. It’s neither your fault but the client’s, but you’re a sore loser and Neuvillette is a stoic judge.

Call him daddy while you fuck into him and he will break, he’ll go slack, his mind numbed when a rush of dopamine just infiltrated his brain every time you’d call him that.

And after all that, aftercare is a must. Treat your dragon well. He did so much for you, and you broke his old man back after fucking him into oblivion. Clean him nice and well, kiss his tears away, and wrap him tightly in a blanket while you hold him.

#I AM #somewhat alive #i honestly planned on posting more works soon if i didn’t hit the classic ‘wow i suck’ moment #i have been doing nothing but scroll though yt shorts help 😭#also play genshin and hi3 because hsr has no content until 30 #jhuzen’s stupid hcs #jhuzen’s shameless filth #genshin impact x male reader #sub genshin #sub genshin impact #sub neuvillette #neuvillette x male reader #neuvillette smut

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aliensupastar · 10 months

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shouldn’t feel like a crime

Rating: Mature

Pairing: Carmy Berzatto/GN!Reader

Word Count: 2.1k

Summary: You finally try Carmy’s cooking. Follow-up to “not wrong, but not right”

Part I Part III

Warnings: minor angst, comfort, fluff, depiction of an eating disorder, food and eating, healing?

A/N: first off, thank you all so much for the love on the first part! i wrote it as a comfort during a difficult time and it was so nice to see people enjoy it. i didn’t intend on writing more for it, but a few people asked for it and i finally got an idea for a follow-up! as a disclaimer, i wrote most of this before season 2 came out and edited it afterwards, but there are no spoilers. gif by emziess <3

Carmy is a good boss. You know this, you’ve known it for months. His sometimes-abrasive idiolect aside, he runs the restaurant like he cares about every brick that built it, every burner the crew uses to make each dish, every ticket that comes through that god-forsaken machine on the expo station. It makes any screaming match easily forgivable, and any nightmare lunch rush endurable.

What you didn’t know was that Carmy could also be a good friend. Since your stint in the emergency room he’s made good on his agreement with you, without ever being overwhelming. He’s instead mercifully subtle. There’s a few bottles of lemonade kept in the office’s mini-fridge now, for when you get dizzy. He’s lent you that coat of his a few times, when the night air ends up chillier than you predicted that morning, and you’ve left your own jacket at home. And he never fails to give you a look, during the busiest hours at the restaurant, communicating quickly, and quietly: Are you good? And you know if the answer is no, he’ll let you take a breather without a single complaint, but you always respond with a quick nod and push through the rest of the shift.

In turn, you do your best not to worry him. You take vitamins and get better sleep and try to stop pushing yourself to the brink of passing out. You even eat one of your safe foods in front of him, at family while everyone else enjoyed the samosas Ebrahaim had cooked up that day, and for once it felt good to eat; the constant playful bickering and banter a welcome distraction from the usual stress that follows your meals.

It’s nice. Maybe you don’t necessarily feel like you’re getting better, just more… stable. Less like you’re in a free-fall and more like you’ve got both feet on solid ground.

When you go to leave after closing up one night and find that it’s raining, impeding you from making your usual trek to the train station, you turn back and head to the office. And a few months ago, you might’ve been too nervous around Carmy to even ask to stay in the restaurant an extra hour, preferring to brave the cold rain and let your clothes get soaked and heavy rather than hang around. You’re relieved, now, to find Carmy right where you left him when you said goodnight just a minute ago, ready to save you from a miserable trip home.

“What’s up?” He asks when he spots you.

“It’s raining.” You tell him, nodding your head in the direction of the back door. “Didn’t bring an umbrella. Do you mind if I stick around for a bit, just ‘till it stops?”

“Yeah, it’s no problem, I’ll be here finishing up for a while, anyway,” He says, then continues after a brief pause. “Y’know you really gotta stop relying on that iPhone weather app.”

You scoff, shaking your head at his teasing.

“You know I’m too lazy to start using another one.”

“I’m just sayin’.” He pushes out of his chair and walks past you, into the kitchen, grabbing a sponge and the container of soap water he uses to clean the countertops.

“You want help?” You offer, already taking off your coat and tossing it onto the office chair.

“Nah, you already clocked out. Don’t worry about it.” He replies, not even looking up as he begins to scrub, but you pick up a sponge anyway and get to work on the counter behind him.

You fall into a comfortable silence for a while after that, only broken by the sound of rough sponges scraping away at the grime and the faint patter of rain on the roof of the building, and part of you wishes you had more opportunities for this. More time spent with him, outside of the hustle and bustle of the restaurant, even if it’s spent cleaning. His presence has become something you’d rather not avoid, even if it makes your heart race; the unique scent of him on the coat you’ve borrowed is becoming familiar, comforting.

“Glad it wasn’t busy today.” Your train of thought is interrupted by his sudden comment, but you quickly nod.

“Practically a miracle, for a Friday.” You agree, hearing him chuckle behind you.

“Didn’t need that shit today, anyways, not while I’m on,” He says. He was working the stovetop today, alongside Sydney, making an efficient team as they churned out dishes quicker than the customers could file in. It made your day a little easier, the delicious aroma wafting from the kitchen while you savored the downtime granted by the slow day.

“I’ve never tried your cooking,” You say offhandedly, but your words make him pause and look back at you, eyebrows raised in surprise.

“Really?” He asks, and you nod. “You’ve worked here for months, though.”

“I know.” You shrug.

“How come?”

That makes you stop scrubbing, turning slightly to look at him.

“Think you know the answer to that one, chef.” You tease, before continuing to work. He huffs out a laugh, but keeps staring at your back while you scrub.

“I could make you something.” He finally says, and it makes you truly stop, turning to face him fully.

“Y’all just cleaned this whole kitchen.” Now it’s his turn to shrug.

“I don’t mind.” You give him an incredulous look.

“I- If you think I’m gonna help you clean the stove and the plates again, you’re wrong.” Carmy just shakes his head, tossing his sponge back into the container of water and grabbing a few clean pans.

“C’mon, I can’t have you walking around saying you’ve never tried the food at the restaurant you work at,” He says. “You like spaghetti?”

He’s casual in the way he asks, but you’re still standing by the counter, eyebrows raised in shock. Your mind is starting to race, the way it does every time you’re faced with food, but Carmy’s already pouring olive oil into a saucepan and brandishing his chef knife to chop an onion.

You approach the stove he’s standing at carefully, like it might just burst into flames, and you can already smell the familiar scent of garlic and olive oil and god, he’s only been at it for a minute and it already smells like heaven in this kitchen.

“Smell good?”

“Yeah,” You practically breathe out. “Shit, smells amazing.”

He smiles at that, a rare thing to see on his face. He’s thoughtful for a moment, before saying:

“This is, uh, Mikey’s recipe, actually.”

Your eyes widen, a bit taken aback by his mention of his late brother. At least, his mention of Mikey to you.

You’d learned about what happened to Michael just a few weeks after being hired, after having witnessed the heavy silence that overtook the room when he’d been mentioned, and asking Marcus after work what all that had been about. Since you received your explanation, you’ve tried to mind your own business when the melancholy that came with Michael’s memory returned, giving those who seemed to know him best room to process before getting back to work.

Carmy’s never talked about Mikey to you directly; no one has. You’re not sure what to say.

“Mikey, that’s… your brother, right?” You ask hesitantly, even if you already know the answer before Carmy nods.

“Yeah. He used to run this place, before it was The Bear.” He tells you.

“Before?” Your confusion and surprise seeps into your tone. “What was it before?”

“Still a restaurant, but, quick service. Italian sandwiches. We weren’t called The Bear, we were-“ He chuckles, caught up in reminiscing. “We were called The Original Beef of Chicagoland.”

“No shit! This used to be The Beef?” He nods his confirmation and you’re instantly brought back, the memory faded like an old photo that’s been shoved into storage and forgotten. The only thing that wasn’t hard to recall was the sandwich you’d ordered, practically dripping with flavor, the exact kind of comfort food you’d needed that day.

“Been here before?” He asks.

“Yeah, I just- I didn’t recognise it.” You’d sat at a table across from the friend that dragged you to the slightly shabby establishment, silently relishing in the deliciousness of your food before the panic could set in, so enraptured by it you didn’t even care about the booming voice coming from behind a door that presumably led to the kitchen. Not even when the person it belonged to came out to the front and-

“Mikey, was he like, tall? Black hair?” You suddenly ask, gesturing how tall you’d remembered the man being, and now Carmy’s the one that’s confused.

“Uh, yeah. You- you knew Mikey?” He sounds a little breathless when he asks, but you shake your head.

“No, but when I came here before, he was still running the place, I guess. And just… loud as shit. Hard to ignore,” You look up and meet Carmy’s eyes. “Hard to forget.”

You both share a laugh at that, at the memory of his brother that he loved, and that you barely even knew.

“Yeah, that definitely sounds like him.” The sweet smile stays on his face as he chops and sautées, refusing to let you do more than start boiling the spaghetti for him. All you can do is watch the pasta and watch him as he navigates his brother’s recipe like it’s pure muscle memory.

As much as you like to steal glances at him during opening prep, you don’t get to see as much of him during service hours. You’re just as busy working front-of-house, keeping people happy and keeping Richie off your ass, as he is while he’s trying to keep up on dishes. You don’t get a ton of chances to see him like this, in his element. He plates the finished spaghetti perfectly, in two bowls, so you know he won’t let you eat alone.

Still, the anxiety in your stomach rises when you accept the fork Carmy hands you, and you can’t help but pause. He does, too, and you know he easily recognises the cause of your trepidation.

“What’s up?” He asks, his voice gentle. You shake your head, trying to rid yourself of the conflict in your mind, but you can’t stop yourself from saying it.

“Do you… just, maybe have an idea of-“

“I have no clue how many calories are in this.” He answers your question before you can even ask it, and you can’t help but let out a breath of amusement — at yourself, at him for somehow knowing.

It’s his gentle smile, one that lacks judgment or pity, that pushes you to finally swirl the spaghetti around your fork and take a bite and-

Oh my god.

You can’t help the moan that escapes you during that first bite, ignoring Carmy’s chuckle at your slight dramatics. You can see why he’s hot shit in the restaurant world; the dish barely looked fancy or complicated when he’d made it, certainly not as complicated as anything on the menu, but somehow it tastes better than any pasta you’ve ever had. You would say you’re in disbelief, but you don’t pause long enough to think about anything but this, how amazing every flavor bursting on your tongue is.

Carmy finishes his pasta before you do, but he stands next to you till your bowl is empty, before taking it over to the dish pit and beginning to scrub down all the dishware he’d used. And you stand there for a second, staring at his back, unable to process all the emotion filling you as he washes your bowl. The bowl he let you get dirty, because he wanted you to be able to try his food.

The utter warmth flooding your senses is almost overwhelming.

Then, despite your earlier protests, you pick up the sponge he abandoned earlier and get to scrubbing the stovetop down again. You ignore the few warm tears that escape your waterline in the process.

You mindlessly follow Carmy around as he walks through each room, shutting off lights and locking the front entrance and office doors. When you inevitably make your way to the back exit, you push open the door only to find that it’s still raining, worse than it was hours ago. You can only sigh and lean your head against the doorway in defeat.

“Need a ride?” Carmy offers easily.

You think back to the frame that sits on the countertop out front, holding a slightly crumpled index card: “I love you, dude. Let it rip.” Words you’ve seen nearly every day since your first on the job; you just now realize they’re probably Michael’s.

It feels like too much. The letting you stick around, the pasta, the… everything.

You nod anyways, accepting Carmy’s offer, letting him lead you to his car, and he lets you lead the way home.

#carmy berzatto #carmy berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto #carmen berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto x you #carmy berzatto fluff #the bear #the bear fx #the bear hulu #the shrimp that fried that rice #my writing

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cinnamonest · 19 days

Note

Yan childe x teacher reader BUT the reader has a lover OMG I CAN'T-

//cucking + filming noncon, age gap, Ajax is an awful little bastard as usual

(also here's the original Delinquent!Childe x Teacher!Reader post, and the second sequel post)

Oh anon. Anon. I love this, but consider: take it a step further.

The poor boy finding out that his precious teacher he’s been fantasizing about fucking silly is MARRIED.

Typing away on her keyboard when his eyes drift and he stiffens up when he sees the ring he never noticed before. The pain. The horror. Devastated.

He’s never even met the guy, and yet he hates him so much. It’s not fair that he got to you first, just because he was born earlier than he was!

He’s probably not good enough for you. Some old guy who can’t rail you with the vigor and intensity that a young guy like himself can, probably can’t keep up with your drive either. You must be so frustrated and unsatisfied.

Now it feels so awful on his tongue to call you what he normally does. Miss _____, he says, and it feels like he’s spewing poison from his mouth, knowing it’s some other man’s name practically forced on you by dumb traditions and social standards (not that he wouldn’t do the same, but that’s different). It makes his chest hurt to hear it, the name feels like a constant reminder that some other man basically has laid claim to you, that the name marks you as belonging to someone who isn’t him.

He does some digging, finds everything he can on the guy, any online profiles or social accounts. Ugh. You deserve better. If it were him, he would just support you himself, you wouldn’t have to slave away doing paperwork all the time.

Even worse is the fact that the guy has a nice job — you know, the kind you need some higher degrees for, which he definitely won’t get seeing as his behavioral record is pretty much guaranteed to keep him out of any credible institution… still, you don’t need that much money to get by. Sure, he’ll never make that much (without getting into crime, at least, which isn’t an impossibility…), but still, he’s better for you.

It’s so much worse, though, when he stalks your accounts, sees pictures of the two of you together. Makes him feel sick to his stomach, you look happy and he doesn’t like that. He ends up having to close the window, unable to handle any further emotional damage.

He starts to pry, little by little. Can’t be too blatant, but he slips in a question every now and then — how you met, what you two do for fun, so on and so on. It makes him stomach churn to hear you talk about him, but he can’t refrain from continuing to ask, practically a compulsive urge.

God forbid you express any sort of discontentment. Even the slightest frustrated sigh, passive-aggressive comment in regards to the man, and so on, he perks up and zeros in. Oh, so you are unhappy. Typical unsatisfied wife that’s getting pent up from unmet needs and all that.

He’s very attentive to those complaints, the things you mutter under your breath and the implications of it all. He works too long and is never home (terrible, he would never leave you so lonely), he’s never helpful around the home (which wouldn’t be so much of an issue if you were home all the time and didn’t have work responsibilities), he suspiciously disappears sometimes for “work trips” or unexplained entirely (unforgiveable, your suspicions are well-founded, he’s definitely cheating and you shouldn’t forgive it).

Sometimes you sigh and shake your head — ah, sorry, I shouldn’t trouble someone your age with all this… but he assures you it’s fine… also he’s searched a list of local divorce attorneys, you know, if you consider that, which you should.

He’s not the best at being subtle or exercising restraint, so he can’t help but actually mention it out loud — life is short, better to divorce than stay in a miserable relationship! But you sigh and say it’s not that serious. He holds out on the hope that there’s an unspoken “yet” at the end of that, that eventually you’ll get fed up.

But you don’t. You keep tolerating it. It’s somewhat understandable, since divorces are difficult and messy, and you would need somewhere to stay and all that.

But getting one’s own place isn’t that hard. He would know, now — he’s actually been picking up odd jobs recently, all to get his own place. Hard to balance that with schoolwork, but he manages (and he’s in the absolute bottom-tier difficulty for courses anyway, with very little actual homework, and it’s not like he’s prepping for college like a lot of his peers). You’re very pleased with it, say you’re proud of him for being so dedicated and responsible, completely unaware that he only really has one intention for doing it all anyway.

He was planning to take that part slowly, ease his way there, but you push the limits of how much he can tolerate when he’s forced to meet the guy face-to-face. He’s just sitting there as per usual in your after-school sessions, talking a mile a minute as per usual, having a good day, completely unprepared for the psychological gut-punch he’s forced to experience when that same face he saw online comes walking right into your classroom. The sacred space that’s supposed to be just for you and him.

His soul is crushed when you get up to greet the guy all happily, practically ignoring him for several extended seconds before you gesture over to where he’s sitting and introduce each other — with himself as the student I’ve been tutoring, you know the one. The man nods, casts a single uncaring glance his direction.

Right. She mentioned you before.

The hell does that mean. He keeps the smile plastered to his face, but it’s twitchy. What did you say? Was it bad? No, you wouldn’t say anything bad about him… except maybe certain factual statements like the whole behavioral record thing, but he can accept that that’s his own fault.

Still, he doesn’t like the way the guy looks at him. A vague condescending, disdainful glance. Makes him curl his hands into fists and clench his jaw. If it weren’t for the whole “impulse management” thing you’ve been hammering into his head for months now, he might have outright attacked the guy.

It’s practically torture to sit there. You say something about how you’re going out for your anniversary, so he came to pick you up. Awful. Like you might as well have stabbed him. Not to mention it’s cutting into what’s supposed to be his time with you, and now he has to leave early.

So he’s forced to walk to the front doors with you both, listening to you talk all happily about where you’re going, while he’s forced to continue to pretend to be perfectly fine with it. Ugh.

You bid him goodbye, and he smiles and waves and walks the opposite way… and the moment you’re out of sight, he’s scowling and grinding his teeth and kicking rocks on the road all the way home, sulking like a petulant kid, imagining all the horrible ways he hopes your date goes terribly wrong.

It makes him seethe all night long, laying in bed, staring up at the ceiling, nausea ruining any chance he had of sleeping. He can’t even go sulk around his parents with the hope of getting attention like he used to do when he was mad, now that he lives in this little apartment by himself.

How is he supposed to live under these conditions, no attention available on demand. You don’t even text him to see if he got home safe like you do sometimes. Probably too busy doing whatever with your husband who’s more important than he is. Hmph. His mind briefly flickers to wondering what you’re doing now that it’s later in the night, but the obvious realization only makes him feel ten times more sick. He doesn’t get any rest.

And the longer the night goes on, the more irritated he starts to feel, the misery and hurt begins to turn to bitterness and anger. He starts to feel like you probably know — no, you definitely do. And yet, you willingly tortured him like that. You've been so nice to him, giving him all that attention and affection, knowing you won't ever give him what he really wants and being totally fine with causing him so much pain. He's hurt, and more importantly, mad.

But he can't hate you… your husband, however, is a different story.

That guy kept his arm around your waist walking outside, rubbing it in his face like that. He’s certain that your husband must realize that he loves you (way more than said husband does, for the record), but that look of disdain — he doesn’t even see him as a threat, does he. Thinks that he’s not even proper competition. That much is painful. Bothersome. Annoying. Rage-inducing.

Well, he’s wrong.

That’s the thought that pushes him over the edge. He’s already had the idea in his head for a long time, he just kept bailing out every time he gathered the gall to go through with it, much to his own shame.

But clearly, continuing to be passive is not going to get him anywhere. Come to think of it, a few months ago, he would never have hesitated to go through with whatever impulse struck him, no matter how violent. It’s not like he hasn’t been expelled or arrested before.

He appreciates the time he’s spent with you, but he’s starting to think that all those little speeches about “self-control” and “thinking before you act” and all that have only really just made him docile and tame. How embarrassing.

A man should just take what he wants, right? Anything less is practically a blow to his pride.

He’s still not the brightest when it comes to formulating plans, but his rather straightforward plan ends up working. You actually agree to swing by when he says he has something to give you, something too big to carry to school himself, so he needs you to come pick it up with your car and all that. You must really trust him. Or you’re just naive, maybe, but he likes to think you trust him, however unwise that may be.

He worries that you might back out, but you show right up to his door. The motions from there are mechanical, putting his brain on a sort of autopilot mode in which he just goes through with it, without thinking too much, lest he hesitate, until you’re secured.

Grabbing you by the shoulder and jerking you inside, hand over your mouth, other arm around your waist and picking you up. It's a short distance to the bed (well, mattress on the floor), since it's just a studio apartment and all.

You being so weak makes it so much easier. He can technically tell you're struggling, but it barely feels like resistance, just weak squirming and thrashing that doesn't even loosen his grip in the slightest. You make cute little noises of surprise and confusion and fear, muffled by his hand over your mouth.

Sadly, he can't afford to have you attracting attention from the neighbors, so he's forced to keep you gagged, pulling your shirt over your head (to which your whimpers turn to full-fledged sounds of panic), and — after the brief moment where he has to detach his hand from your mouth, hearing you stammer out a wait, wait— balls it up and stuffs it into your mouth, quickly grabbing the duct tape (he, feeling very proud of himself for such clever forethought, thought to go ahead and tear some long strips off and stick the ends to the wall ahead of time), and placing it over your mouth, flipping you over onto your stomach.

You're so cute. You make the cutest little noises, your eyes get all teary, you squirm and whimper and try to pull yourself away, but he's got your wrists pinned behind your back with one hand, the other pulling your hips back. The cutest part by far has to be when you feel him jerk your skirt up, his cock pressing against your flesh and pushing inside of you, your squeals get louder and higher pitched and you struggle so hard, to no avail.

So mean, though, to pretend like you didn't see it coming. You know what you did. You led him on on purpose. Knowing full well the sort of things he's done to other people — beating his peers black and blue on impulsive whims, getting into fights because he felt like it, stealing stuff and vandalizing stuff and all those other things he knows you know he did, since it's all on his records… you willingly came all by yourself, in private, with someone like that, who you know full well is so much stronger than you are—

What did you fucking expect?

Up until then, the stream of words from his mouth are all amused and teasing and sadistic, but in those words, and the sharp jerking thrust accompanying them, you hear that underlying anger breaking through. You really hurt him, you know, by being married. He loves you so much, and you had to go and do that to me, he says, as if it was a retroactive choice, as if you should have predicted his presence in your life years in advance, as if you willfully did it to spite him years before you knew he existed.

Is it irrational? Sure… but it isn't going to change that he feels that way, and he’s mad and you can't do anything about it anyway, so he's going to keep blaming you for what you did wrong.

He keeps muttering about how stupid you are — for coming here so naively, for choosing your dumb fucking husband over him when he's so much better and loves you so much more, for all the little things you did to lure him in and make him want you so badly, for being so nice to him and having a body you should have known would make him want this so badly.

It's all your fault.

The words get more and more muffled and slurred as the movements get faster, harsher, you squeal with each thrust that makes the springs creak and the whole mattress itself move back and forth against the floor. He points out that you're leaking all over him, fluid drooling out of your hole and spilling onto his hips and thighs, satisfied by the shameful little whimper you make and the way you hang your head. You must not get fucked good enough at home, huh.

And then, he starts to slow down. There's a pause. You see him reach over, to where he tossed a few things that were on you when you came in onto the floor. Fishes something out of your purse.

You made a confused, panicked little sound when you notice he's holding your phone. Easily unlocked, whatever method you use — he holds it up to your face or forces your thumb to press against it, or, most alarmingly, even if it's protected by password or pattern, he enters it with a single try. Shouldn't have opened your phone around him so much, of course he would pay attention to that.

You're flipped onto your back, reeling from the sudden harsh movement, grunting and squirming when your bra is pulled up to your collarbones and your skirt pulled up even further, exposing your body completely before shoving back inside of you, and oh, what a euphoric sound you make — and this time, you visibly clench down on him when he does. Perfectly timed, too.

Your stomach clenches in dread and panic as you see your phone’s front side facing you.

Smile.

You cry out louder than ever before, struggle so hard, so good. His hand latches onto your throat and squeezes hard, and your hands, now no longer in his grasp, reach up to claw at them, all entirely futile. The sound of skin slapping skin reverberates around the room, and you see him tilt the camera downward, ensuring he captures the sight of his cock pounding into you, stretching you apart, all the slick fluid now coating everything from your thighs to his hips, and the sweet, precious sounds you make for him.

He wonders if anyone has ever made you react like this before. If your husband is going to be torn apart by the realization that he's made you feel better than he ever has, that he's better and bigger than him. The sheer fear on your face would suggest that. The thought feels euphoric.

He re-angles himself, leaning forward a bit, ensuring his body presses against your clit — you start to tense up, push back, your heels dig into the mattress and your body writhes with greater force than ever before. Your eyes squeeze shut and you shake your head but he doesn't stop, and you hate yourself so much in the moment for the sensations your body feels, the guilt and despair overwhelm you, you feel a cold chill in your gut — but you finally spasm and shudder on his cock all the same, clearly trying so hard to minimize it and hold back the sounds and movements, but the involuntary shudders and soft little cries are unmistakable all the same.

Normally, he would want to stay inside you longer — but there will be plenty of chance for that later. This time, the prospect of pulling out and capturing it is too tempting, and God, is it satisfying when he does. The squelching sound, the way his cum starts to drool out of you onto the mattress, the way your hole twitches from the sudden absence, slightly agape from the intrusion. It's so, so perfect, better than he could have even imagined.

You rip the tape off your mouth, gagging and coughing from the strain on your throat, and the overwhelming sensation leaves you in a dazed stupor for a few moments… your head slowly drags over to him, and an ice-cold spike of fear strikes through your heart when you see that he's still on your phone.

Slight movement from you as you try to push yourself upright takes his attention away from it, eyes flickering over to you.

Ah, right.

You make a scared little sound and pull your hands close to your chest (very cute!) as he looms over you again, but you're helpless to do anything as he puts the phone down to flip you over again, this time taping your wrists behind your back, adding a new layer over your mouth, and finally one on your ankles. Your struggles barely faze him.

You see him zip his pants back up and pull his shirt back on, standing and making his way over to the door, shuffling his shoes back on before grabbing your car keys.

I'll bring these back. Your place is only five minutes away if I drive, you know. I won’t get into any wrecks this time.

It occurs to you that you've never told him where you live, but it's the least of your concerns then and there. Your heart sinks to your stomach as he takes your phone again, grinning as he types and, after a pause, makes one distinct, final tap that you know can only be hitting 'send.'

His head turns over to you, that same dopey, carefree smile on his face as always, that now seems so much more sinister than before.

Don't worry. He won't have enough time to call the cops.

Your muffled words don't stop him. You writhe pathetically on the ground as the door opens and closes before you, listening in dread and despair as his footsteps slowly fade away.

#lord forgive me but this is the GOOD stuff #like taking reader from her lover/husband/bf by force... hnnnnng

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wannab-urs · 5 months

Text

Title: Harsher Than the Bark

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader

Summary: Javi makes you feel things you’ve never felt before, will never feel with anyone else, but he can’t – or won’t – love you.

Tags: smoking, probably shit spanish, smut, angst, fingering, squirting, unprotected PiV, probably unrealistic amount of orgasms (like 4 idk it’s kinda vague, choking/breath play, Javi has dom vibes but it’s not like BDSM he’s just bossy, one “good girl,” begging, religious imagery because Javi makes you see god, biting, that one position from that one scene – you fucking know the one, excessive cursing because it’s me and I refuse to change, Javi is a cuddler, emotionally unavailable!Javi, references to past arguments/past hookups because this has been an ongoing thing and I love to start in the middle of a story. Based on 505 by Arctic Monkeys, (being annoying and posting at 5:05 am) No beta we die like Oberyn WC: 1.4k

A/N: I kind of wrote this in a fever dream, I literally don't even know if it's any good. It's sort of a planned three parter, but I'm not putting pressure on myself to finish it, so each part can stand completely alone. If I write all three, it'll be called In the A.M. as in In the Morning but also because they're all based on Arctic Monkeys songs. Hope you like it <3

Series Masterlist | Javier Peña Masterlist | Main Masterlist | AO3 | Kofi

The knife twists at the thought that I should fall short of the mark Frightened by the bite, though it's no harsher than the bark

Javier Peña is probably the best fuck you’ve ever had in your life. Actually, scratch that. He’s definitely the best fuck you’ve ever had in your life. He makes you feel things you’ve never felt before. Coming three times in one night with him is the absolute bare minimum. He loves it when you scream for him. Does everything in his power to get you a noise complaint from your neighbors.

And God is he gorgeous. Long and lean with strong arms, broad shoulders, a tiny waist, a perky ass. His nose looks like it was carved off a greek statue and placed on his face. He’s got these big sad brown eyes, full lips framed by a neatly trimmed mustache, and a jawline that could cut glass. You’re probably in love with him.

You put out your cigarette when you hear the door open, lay back in the bed and stare at the ceiling. It’s five in the morning, but you never turn him away. No matter what time.

“Shouldn’t leave the door unlocked, hermosa,” Javi’s deep drawl drifts across the room to you.

“Knew you were coming. Didn’t wanna have to get up.”

Javi drops his shirt on the floor and crawls up the bed, draping himself over you and pressing a kiss to your lips. “No es seguro, cariño. Anyone could walk in.” (It’s not safe, baby).

“Lo que sea, Javi.” (Whatever, Javi). You roll your eyes at him. “It’s locked now, no?”

Javi drags his lips along your jaw, nips at your throat, drags a finger through your folds. “Wet already, baby? Were you thinking of me?”

You were, but you kind of hate him for being right. “Fuck you, Jav–” his name drags out into a moan as he stuffs two thick fingers inside you. He pumps his fingers in and out a couple times before curling them up into the spongy spot inside you. You throw your head back in pleasure, back arching and hips thrusting so that you’re practically riding his fingers.

He wraps the fingers of his free hand carefully around your throat. “Mírame.” (Look at me). You force your eyes open and he’s so close you could count the individual hairs in his mustache. You look into his eyes with so much adoration, so much love, he has to look away. He squeezes your throat tighter and you close your eyes again as your cunt tightens on his fingers.

He rubs circles on your clit in time with the thrust of his fingers, feeling you wind tighter and tighter around him. His hand on your throat isn’t blocking air, but you still can’t catch your breath. When your body is so tense it feels like you’ll shatter into a million pieces, he releases the hand on your throat. You gasp in a big breath and fall apart in his hands. He works you through it with firm, slow strokes.

Just as you feel yourself start to come down, he picks up the pace again. He places the hand that was on your throat on your pelvis, holding you down on the mattress and rubs his thumb in quick, hard circles on your clit. He pumps his fingers into you hard and fast.

“Come for me, hermosa. Come all over my hand.”

Your vision whites out and you let out a near agonized scream as you clench around his fingers and gush all over him. Javi pulls his fingers out of you and slips them into your mouth. You suck the taste of yourself off his fingers.

“Good girl,” he growls in your ear. He stands up, leaving you panting on the bed, and strips his jeans off. He strokes himself as he gets back on the bed, hand still slick with your cum. He pulls your thighs over his and you wrap your legs around him. He drags his cock through your folds and watches you shudder.

“You’re soaked… You want me to fuck you?” The bastard is teasing you. You whine his name. “Las palabras, cariño.” (Words, baby).

“Need you, Javi. Please. I need you so bad,” you’re desperate, aching for him. He taps your clit with the head of his cock one more time before lining up with your entrance and pushing in. You let out an absolutely wrecked moan, voice breaking as he bottoms out.

He leans forward, planting his hands on either side of your head and pulls out before plunging back down inside you. He has your hips tilted almost vertically, driving you down into the mattress with every thrust. You dig your nails into the meat of his shoulders and drag them down his back, making him groan into your neck.

Fucking Javi is always a religious experience. You find salvation and damnation at once in his arms and you swear you see God himself when you come on his cock.

Javi doesn’t slow down despite the way you clench around him. He often works out his frustrations in your body, tries to bury them and himself in you.

He pulls out and flips you over by your hips, sheathing himself inside you the second you’re on your knees in front of him. He fists one hand in your hair and pulls your back to his chest, wrapping the other hand around your breast.

You lay your head on his shoulder and let the pleasure wash over you, lose yourself in it completely. You only exist in this moment, the pleasure and pain melding to form something divine inside you. He bites down on your neck and you come on his cock again, and you think you scream. You aren’t quite sure.

Javi groans as he slams into you one, two, three more times and collapses forward onto the bed, trapping you under him. He stays inside you for a few more moments, nuzzling your neck. His lips catch your ear lobe as he pulls himself out of you and falls to the bed beside you. He wraps his arms around you, curling his body around yours, and holds you close.

You lie in silence for a long time, just listening to each other breathe. This has become routine. Javi has a bad day at work and takes it out on your body in this bed. He never talks about it, about why he needs such a frenzied release, but you can guess.

Sometimes, though, he’ll talk about growing up in Laredo or about a nice dinner he had with Connie and Steve or about an op that went well. Sometimes he lets you see beneath his hardened exterior.

The truth is that you’re definitely in love with him. But Javi won’t ever be with you, not in the way you want. Javi won’t commit to being with you because this, what you just did, is all he thinks he deserves and all he knows how to do. He loves making you feel good, takes pride in making you come over and over and over. He loves making you moan and whine and scream for him. He loves it when you tell him how good he feels, how perfect he is, how pretty his cock is. He just doesn’t love you.

He always curls up with you, snuggles you close, clings to you. But if you bring up wanting something more, something defined and committed, he fucking runs. He can give you himself physically, but he can’t let you near his heart because it is rotten and caving in and no good. And you? You are good. He can’t touch you with that. The dark and broken part of himself. He can’t infect your good with his bad.

You know this and yet…

A tear slips from your lashes, trailing down your cheek and falling onto the arm tucked under your cheek.

“Cariño, ¿por qué lloras? (Baby, why are you crying?) He sounds… fucking anguished. “¿Te lastimé?” (Did I hurt you?)

“It’s nothing, Jav.”

Javi sits up, grabs your face in his hands and makes you look at him. “It’s something. Dime.” (Tell me).

“If I tell you, you’ll just fucking leave again, Javi. I can’t do this right now. Just hold me, please? Be here when I wake up?”

Javi searches your eyes for a moment. You aren’t sure what he sees there. Heartbreak? Resignation? Desperation? Whatever it is convinces him.

“Sure, yeah. I can do that.”

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tetsuskei · 3 months

Text

‘too-too’ - kuroo tetsurō [fluff]

notes: repost. also inspired by work (yay capitalism) and self indulgent. wrote this for a piece of mind, if you will.

warnings: toxic work habits, etc, bad title names, not edited completely

word count: 1.4k

“is everything alright?”

your eyes snap up to your coworker, kuroo tetsurō. he leans against your cubicle. tall, muscular figure moving to look down at you with concern.

you blink, fingers pausing their movements over your keys. “what do you mean?”

kuroo is a strange individual. he’s funny, and nerdy, and a little clumsy sometimes (you’ve seen him burn his hand one too many times with hot coffee). but he has a good heart. one probably made of gold. he’s always genuine when it comes to his actions.

“i’ve just been noticing the boss has been piling a lot of work on you as of lately…i didn’t know if maybe you were overwhelmed.” he suggests, shrugging. he stuffs his hands in his pockets and peers over to the stack of files on your desk. “that all need to get done today?”

you sigh, running your hand through your hair, “no, but they will need to by the end of the week. i can handle it all though, with a couple of late nights. i appreciate your concern, kuroo.” you send him a weak smile.

at work you’re known as the one who can handle anything and everything with no complaints. your boss seems to hold you in high regards to it, coworkers are jealous of your ability, and your family has always been proud of how hardworking you are.

the only problem is, people take advantage of this. they ask for your help on minor things, interrupt you when you’re clearly busy, or assume you’ll have the time and tell your boss you’ll take care of it (without your notice).

kuroo is one of the only people who doesn’t do that. he genuinely comes up to you for conversation and asks about you. he’s taken you out to lunch (usually by force to drag you away from your work), brought you coffee, and always made sure you’re okay.

you don’t want to say his actions have caused a small crush to develop, but you’d be a horrible, horrible liar. after spending so much time with him, you begin to see just how handsome his features are. how sharp and angular his jawline and cheekbones are, how he laughs and has dimples appear, how his hazel eyes sparkle with mischief whenever he tells a (horrible) joke—

suddenly fingers are snapping in front of you and you’re brought back to the present.

“you sure you’re good?” kuroo looks down at you with concern and you feel your heart swell a bit. “you’re spacing out.”

“peachy!” you respond, and feel your cheeks get warm. you hope he doesn’t notice. “I couldn’t be any better!”

his perceptive eyes pensively train on you. “well, I’ll be on my way then. don’t hesitate to let me know if you need anything.”

“sure.” you nod, smiling.

and just as stubborn as you are, kuroo is more stubborn.

for the next few days, the man is always lingering around when you’re working late.

“what a coincidence, i’m here late, too! need a buddy?” and he’s already invading his way into your space before you can say ‘no’.

you feel as if there’s something he isn’t telling you, but you don’t ask.

the two of you share ordered dinner, chatting and bantering. time goes a lot faster with him, and you think it’s because he’s made you more productive (despite his antics), but you also know it’s because it’s him.

“you know it’s okay to ask for help, right?” kuroo points out again one day. “you don’t have to take on everything by yourself.”

“well, what do you know?” you say spitefully.

he senses your offense, and he knows quickly explains, “i-i’m not saying you can’t handle things, but you shouldn’t work yourself to death. i mean, you’re amazing at what you do, and—“

“look, i’ve been in your shoes before, and i know the feeling all too well. i just know it doesn’t feel great.” he finishes.

“thank you, kuroo.” you smile, “and I’m sorry for snapping at you…maybe i’m just tired and need a break.”

he perks up at this, “then why don’t we go do something?”

you shake your head, “i can’t…i have to finish this.”

“don’t worry. it’s already done.” he assures.

your mouth falls open, “how…?”

he laughs nervously, “well, don’t hate me when I say this…”

you narrow your eyes teasingly. “can’t promise that. but how bad can it be?”

“i rallied up those coworkers you talked to and told them you weren’t available to help them because we’re going on a date.” he confesses, scratching the back of his head. “may have also threatened them to not take advantage of you again…”

you sputter, choking on your food, “a date? like…a romantic date?”

“if that’s what they assume, then yes. which by the way, did you know people think we’re dating?”

there’s another strike to your heart, “they do?! but…how? why?”

he hides his face in his hand, cheeks a light pink, “dunno, maybe it’s because i spend most of my time with you…”

you’re shocked at his words, feeling like you need someone to pinch you. “really?”

“really.” he nods, leaning in towards you. “i thought it was obvious but I guess not…” he laughs.

you shake your head. “i didn’t want to assume anything, so i just thought you were being nice.”

“i mean, yes and no. i always like helping people, but i’d really use any excuse to talk to you.” he admits with a goofy grin. “but i’m sorry if i’ve made you uncomfortable in anyway.”

“no…i just didn’t think you’d feel that way about me, too.”

“‘too’?” he parrots.

you’re quiet for a moment and then say, “well maybe i have feelings for you and wasn’t going to confess unless i knew you liked me back. you do, right?”

“yes! i like you too—too!” he exclaims, probably louder than he means to. “i mean—“

you giggle, “i like you too-too, tetsu.”

he relaxes, like a weight has come off his shoulders. “well, as your date, i say we leave here. one more file to look at and i’ll cut my own head off.” he says.

“agreed.” you nod, standing up alongside him.

you both pack your things up and soon make your way outside. you’re brutally reminded of the cold autumn air as you feel it hit you in the faces.

a shiver comes over you, and you shrink within your own coat, trying to retain any and all warmth.

“here,” kuroo quickly wraps his scarf around you and you quickly smell mint and some form of expensive cologne. you bury you face in it and feel more at ease.

“thank you.” you gush.

he hums, “no problem.”

the two of you quickly find yourselves in an arcade. you both play games and you quickly learn how 1. competitive, and 2. horrible kuroo is at games. to soften his sour mood, you do win him prizes on his behalf.

“i haven’t had fun like this in awhile!” you beam. the two of you leave the arcade, kuroo offering to walk you home.

“i can tell, you haven’t stopped smiling since we left.” he says, chuckling.

“thanks to you, i guess.” you joke.

“you’re welcome, i’ve been losing on purpose just for you.” he admits.

you blink, not convinced. “sure.”

kuroo pouts, “it’s true,” he gestures down to his bag full of toys, “worked out in my favor, too.”

“right, tetsu.” you snicker, smirking.

the ravenette feels his heart swell at your words. “heh. well, more important prize is you, though.” he says cheekily.

“corny, but I’m flattered.” and before he can say another (horrible) pun, you pull him to your height by his work tie before abruptly kissing him on the lips.

this definitely throws the man off as he stumbles a bit, gasping against your mouth in surprised. his lips are soft and a bit chapped, his mouth tasting like candy from the arcade.

when you pull away, you say, “thank you for treating me to an evening like this. i didn’t realize how much i needed it.”

he slips his hand into yours, his large palm enveloping your smaller one in comforting warmth.

“of course. i just think someone as pretty as you shouldn’t have to worry about things so much.” he says, a faint blush appearing across his cheeks. “you shouldn’t let them walk all over you. make sure you have boundaries.”

you lean onto his shoulder, squeezing his hand. “you’re absolutely right. but you know what?”

he looks at you, “what?

“the only boundary that was worth crossing, was the one involving you.” you confess.

and in kuroo’s honest opinion, you couldn’t have been more right.

#kuroo x reader #kuroo tetsurou fluff #kuroo fluff #hq x reader #kuroo tetsuro x reader #hq kuroo #haikyuu kuroo #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu x reader #haikyu fluff #hq fluff

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girlboypersonthingy · 1 year

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Can I request Vi, Jinx and Caitlyn trying to cheer up/apologize to their S/O after a nasty fight? I wonder what they would do to try and make it up to them.

AAAHHHH ANGSTY GIRLS ARE MY WEAKNESS 😩💔 As always, I am so grateful for the request! Also sorry this took so long… ENJOY~

VI 💘

Okay, she def said some mean shit to you. She’s good with her fists, but she has a sharp tongue too. She can destroy someone with her words just as fast as she could with her bare hands.

You’re hurt and upset, probably crying or maybe you’re angry at her. She knows you’re upset at her too…she just doesn’t care rn.

Once she’s gone off on her own to calm down, she’s thinking about what she said to you and the longer Vi thinks about it, replaying the words in her head, the more she feels guilty.

She comes back to find you later with the saddest look on her face. It’s obvious that she feels so guilty she wants to die right now but it doesn’t make the sting of her words any better.

“(Y/N)….I…” She can’t even come up with words that could fix this. She knows she really fucked up.

She’d definitely try to physically comfort you before she would try to offer comforting words. She does not know how to say sorry, it’s lowkey so hard for her. She feels sorry but the words just won’t leave her mouth.

Vi would sit or lay beside you and gently cup your chin in her hand, turning your face so she can look at you.

“Sorry…” She finally spits it out, watching your eyes water.

Then she’d go straight in for a kiss, maybe on the lips, maybe on your forehead. She’ll put her lips wherever you’ll let her rn.

If you accept/return the kiss, now she’s feeling more comfortable with talking. She’ll apologize again then kiss you again then apologize again then kiss you again, maybe slip a little compliment in about how precious you are to her then back to kisses. This goes on for like 5 minutes straight until you’re smiling a bit and your heart feels full again.

If you DONT accept her kisses or apologies, she’ll get so sad. This girl will just watch you with wide eyes, chewing on her lip as she asks “what…can I do?”

Honestly, give her any task you can think of, she will do it so fast with no complaints. Tell her to go jump off a bridge and she’s running there. Tell her to actually give you a proper apology and she will stutter through it and look at you with puppy dog eyes as she tries her best to make you feel like she doesn’t hate you.

If you’re just giving her the silent treatment, she will literally go disappear for like 8 hours. She’ll just give you space and go think about what she did. She’ll spend this time reflecting inward, thinking about what lead up to the outburst, why she felt the way she did, why she let her emotions get the best of her, why she took it out on you of all people.

When she finally comes back, hopefully you’re more ready to listen and respond to her. She’s so grateful when you are.

She will do literally anything for you when you’re upset with her. Even if it’s illegal or dangerous or something she has no idea about, she’ll figure it out and do it for you. Think there’s something she won’t do? Try her.

Once you’ve been consoled and talked to properly, when you’ve finally accepted her apology, she just wants to be close to your. You don’t have to be cuddling, you could just be holding hands or laying down with your head in her lap. She just needs the physical reassurance that you’re still her ✨partner✨

JINX 🦋

Let’s be real…Jinx blows up on you a lot. She just loses it too often and you two are so close, you’re always right in the path of destruction.

She’s not really the type to apologize after every time she blows up on you. If it’s obvious that you’re just butt hurt and irritated with her, she won’t bring up what happened but she will get all clingy and nice all of a sudden. She knows what she did and she’s gonna cheer you up and make you feel loved. She just wants to remind you that she’s unstable but your relationship shouldn’t be. She’s trying.

If she really upsets you, says something that really hits home, she’ll break down crying almost immediately after the words have left her lips. You might not even be crying yet, but Jinx is. She can tell by the look on your face, the way your lips are turned down and your eye brows are lowered, she can tell that you are truly hurt.

When you’re upset like this, she will cry hysterically as she tries to apologize and explain herself. She’ll be sniffling and hiccuping as she furiously wipes her wet eyes. Honestly, when she gets like this you think maybe she’s more upset than you are rn.

When she yells at you like this, it all comes pouring out of her mouth in the heat of the moment. She’s just in a blind rage. But as your face changes, she’s always reminded of her sister. The way her sister would yell at her and call her names. It triggers her and she always ends up sobbing in your lap, begging for your forgiveness, begging for you to stay with her, begging for you to love her still.

If you readily accept her apology and maybe offer her some comfort, she will comfort you back tenfold! She’s playing with your hair, gently scratching your back, offering to rub your feet while she’s still apologizing every so often. She feels like a bad dog who needs punishing and bc you won’t really punish her, she turns to manual labor on you. This is her punishment, pampering you until she’s exhausted.

If you’re not so quick to accept her apology, she gets scared…like actually terrified of you walking out on her right now. She’ll get really quiet, probably not even crying anymore, but she won’t let go of you. She’ll stay flush against you, her arms trapping your torso against her own. She feels like if she just clings to you, you can never leave. She can’t handle you leaving…plz don’t leave her.

As you both sit in silence, she’ll remain still, only moving to tighten her grip or lay her head on your other shoulder. In this moment, nothing else matters to her, no one else matters to her. Sure, she’s probably scared of being alone, but she’s never loved someone as much as she loves you. You are her everything…if she loses you…then she has nothing else to lose. She doesn’t know what she’ll do then.

She’s basically having a silent panic attack as she clings to you, awaiting your response. And she’ll wait forever if she has to.

If you need some space and time to yourself, she will literally just back away a little bit and still stay in the same room. She’s literally terrified…she thinks if she leaves the room she’ll never see you again. But she will stay silent and give you some breathing room.

Once you’re finally ready to talk about it, she’s constantly interrupting you to tell you that this is all her fault and how sorry she is. She isn’t trying to speak over you, she just feels like you shouldn’t be the one doing the talking, she just needs to make sure you know how horrible she feels.

As you talk it out and come to terms with what has happened between you two, she’ll get happy again and start smiling at you. She’s just so overjoyed that you forgave her and are willing to keep trying with her. That’s all she can ask of you…please keep trying. Don’t give up on her.

She’s a good girl at heart and she’s trying her best with what she’s got.

CAITLYN 🤍

It’s actually very rare that you two fight. Caitlyn can be very stubborn and hard headed but she is always willing to compromise for you.

This time tho…she just lost control. She was having a rough week, feeling like she lacked confidence and security in her job, feeling the weight of her parent’s expectations of her and she just snapped at you.

Yeah…it stings but she would never say anything offensive to you. Ever. She might raise her voice at you and call you a pain in her ass but a crude name or insult would never leave her mouth when talking to you.

She probably just told you to shut up and leave her alone bc she’s stressed okay? She can’t handle you rn. She needs to be alone and think in silence.

If you’re upset and decide to leave her be, she’ll spend maybe an hour or two alone before she comes to find you. When she does, she takes your hands in hers and says your name so softly. If you’re not looking at her, she’ll pull her hand away from yours to gently grab your chin and turn your face to her. She pretty much forces eye contact and tenderly whispers an apology.

If you decide not to leave her, maybe you just back away and stay on the other side of the room. She’ll accept your presence as long as you’re quiet…and after the way she said “shut up”, you’re sure to keep quiet.

After maybe 20 minutes, she’s speaking up to apologize…but she’s still in a sour mood. Don’t let her stern apology fool you. You should probably just stay silent.

Soon she’s waving her hand at you as she mumbles “come here…” and you do. You go to her slowly, noticing how she’s watching you. Once you’re within arms length of her, she’s reaching for your hands and trying to look into your sad eyes. She’ll shyly apologize as her thumbs rub over your hands.

If you don’t accept her apology so quickly, she’s very mature about it. She’ll tell you that she accepts your response and then she’ll say how sorry she is again before leaving you to think about it more. She’ll give you space for as long as you need it. She’ll busy herself with other things while still thinking of what she can say to make you understand how sorry she is. She’ll take this time apart to really think about how much you mean to her and how she can better herself and your relationship.

If you immediately accept her apology, she’ll pull you into a tight hug and gently kiss your cheek before explaining herself to you. Caitlyn feels like she has to explain where she’s coming from and why she snapped like that. She needs you to know that she’s not upset with you and she shouldn’t have taken her anger out on you. She doesn’t want you thinking she’s mad at you when she’s actually mad at everything but you.

Whenever you decide to accept her apology, she wants to have a whole conversation about it immediately. Like I said, Caitlyn is very mature, very polite and caring. She wants to talk this out like a couple in love should. She wants to dive deep into your partnership and make sure you’re feeling okay.

She just cares about you so much. She never means to snap at you…she’s just under a lot of pressure. So when it does happen, she can’t just sweep it under the rug. She must be sure that you still love her and that you know she still loves you. Plz tell her you still love her.

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intoxicated-chan · 3 months

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𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟐 ║ ❝𝐘𝐨𝐮❜𝐯𝐞 𝐈𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐈𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭❞

(A/n) ➳ I’m planning for the next chapter to be a longer one, I’m working on my writing on smut and testing out a couple of things. If you guys wanna be added to the Taglist you can check it out HERE.

Word Count ➳ 1.3k

Content Warnings ➳ Sexual content, p-in-v, overstimulation, swearing, praising, pet names (darlin’), mentions of dangerous situations, TERRIBLE FLIRTING…

JUDAS Masterlist

YOU REMEMBERED ROCKING YOUR HIPS BACK AND FORTH.

Throwing your head back as your mouth opened to let out another loud moan as your orgasm came crashing down on you.

You must’ve been on the fifth… Seventh? Maybe more? You lost count, Daryl made you lose count.

He was brutal, ruthless, fucking you over and over again. Yet you had no complaints.

All night, you were worried about something you shouldn’t have to be worried about. He made you lose your mind, losing yourself, and letting go in the pleasure.

“Let me hear ya.”

“Gotta be patient for me.”

“Jus’ like tha’.”

“Doin’ a good job for me.”

Your body went limp for a second but it didn’t stop Daryl from slowing down, he kept your sweaty body close to his, thrusting his hips up as his arms wrapped around you.

“Daryl!” You whined, chanting his name like a mantra.

“Goin’ weak on me?” He grunted.

You attempted to shake your head, your no getting cut off by another gasp.

“One more, gimme one more.” As if he didn’t say that hours ago. Daryl knew what he was doing, driving you to the edge each time.

Daryl pushed you onto your back, your head hanging off the bed, his hands moved to clutch your waist.

Your hands come to his chest, hooking your legs around him. “Please, Daryl!” Starting to feel overwhelmed.

“Ya can take it, darlin’.”

You sat at the table, a cup of freshly brewed coffee in your hands. Daryl left in the early hours of the morning, giving you a vague answer as he left your apartment.

Amy came into the kitchen, as she had come over to your place an hour after Daryl left. She saw you sitting in silence but she could see it in your eyes.

“So, spill it.” Amy smirked, pouring herself a cup of coffee from the pot. “How was the night with Mr. Leather jacket mysterious man?”

You let out a small laugh, feeling your face warm up. “He was… Different. Excitin’. He ain’t like anyone before.”

Any leaned against the counter, bringing the hot cup to her lips, careful not to burn herself. “Different how?”

You paused, trying to find the right words. “He’s… He’s unpredictable. B-But in a good way! It brings this energy into my life, fillin’ what was missin’ in my life.”

Amy lifted an eyebrow. “All that from one night? A couple of hours?” Her voice filled with concern and suspicion. “And Shane? He’s crazy about you.”

“I-I know, but I know if I’m with Shane. It’ll be somethin’ I don’t want to settle, especially settle for him. I don’t want that.”

Amy slowly nodded. “But (Y/n), I’ve seen too many girls in my college choose the adrenaline life over a safety net given to them and most of the time, it doesn't end well.”

You opened your mouth to speak but Amy’s groan interrupted you. “Shit. I gotta go before my professor docks my damn grades.” She took the cup with her as she rushed to your door. “Remember! Tell Shane you don’t want him!”

“I’ll try!”

“You will! I don’t wanna hear you complaining about him!”

You happily waved her off, letting her leave with your cup. But you knew she would come back with it, wouldn’t be the first time.

You stood with a huff, walking to the kitchen to dump the rest of your coffee down the kitchen drain.

You turned on the faucet to wash the cup, a knock startling you. You turned the faucet off and headed to your door to look through the peephole.

You grumbled, seeing Shane on the other side. You debated for a moment but decided to open the door to him.

“Hey.” Shane greeted you, his hat in his hands. It seemed like he was fumbling with it.

“What are you doin’ here Shane?” You asked him. “Thought you had work.”

“I was in the neighborhood. Did you get my voicemail?”

Right… He was calling you back when you were in the club, probably calling you when you were getting screwed by Daryl.

“Sorry. I had a rough night.”

“Is it alright if I come in? I jus’ wanna talk.”

You stepped aside, letting him come in and take a seat at the table. You closed the door and locked it.

You sat as well, feeling the atmosphere become tense. You were unsure how to start the conversation or if you wanted to talk at all.

Shane cleared his throat, setting his hat down on the table. “I, uh, wanted to talk to ‘bout the yesterday mornin’.”

“Right…” You knew where the conversation was going to go or how it was going to end. Better to say it now, you don’t want this biting you in the ass. “Shane-”

“Maybe they’re onto somethin’.” Shane immediately said, leaning in. “We’ve known each other for so long. I care ‘bout you, (Y/n).” He then took your hand, holding it tightly. “I want my future to have you in it.”

Your eyes shifted around the room, Shane’s eyes to the table, the door, and the coat rack. “I don’t know, I-I mean, I see where you’re comin’ from but-”

Disappointment was clear across his face. “But? But what? We have somethin’ special between us, don’t you want that?”

You started to panic, your eyes coming back to him. “I do but-!”

“But what?” He repeated. “Is it time you want? I ain’t a patient man. Jus’ give me a night, a chance, I’ll show you-”

Your phone ringing cut him off.

You pulled it out and saw the caller ID, an unknown number.

“Go, take the call.” Shane’s tone was cold, he reluctantly released your hand.

You retreated to your bedroom, shutting the door quietly. You opened the phone and brought it to your ear. “…Hello?”

“Daryl.” You heard him over the phone. “Nearly thought you lost yer voice.” He laughed.

“How did you get my number?”

“It don’t matter. Ya free tonight, midnight?”

You were taken aback by the invitation Daryl gave you. “Uh, yeah… Why?”

“I’m taking ya ridin’.” Daryl replied.

A smile formed on your lips, nearly calming you. “That sounds great.”

After a few more words, you put your phone back in your pocket and came out of your room. When you returned to the kitchen, Shane was gone. You sighed, ashamed.

Amy was going to have your head.

You hurriedly got ready, opting to wear loose-fitting clothing such as a skirt and a v-neck lace blouse. You’ve been wanting to wear it for a while but never got the chance to.

With a glance and a posing session in front of the mirror to test if the outfit was good or if you would need to change for the hundredth time. You grabbed your jacket and keys and headed out the door.

You heard a rumble of a motorcycle engine, it got louder as you made your way to the parking lot.

You spotted Daryl leaning against his sleek motorcycle, a grin across his face.

“Right on time.” Daryl commented, feeling his eyes on you.

“Wouldn’t want to keep you waiting.” You replied you couldn’t help but smile widely. “You ready to take me for a ride, Judas?”

Daryl handed you a helmet, his fingers brushing against yours. “Only if ya can handle another one, darlin’.” He teased you.

Taking the helmet, you shot him a playful glare as you secured it in place. You swung your leg, and straddled the seat, finding his waist to hold.

“Hold on.” Daryl warned you. “Wouldn’t want ya fallin’ for me too soon.”

He pulled out of the parking lot and onto the open road, the air suddenly whipping through your hair.

You gasped at the sudden speed, your heart nearly pounding out of your chest…

Amy can get your head later.

Taglist ➳ @deansapplepie , @ladylincoln , @gamingfeline , @lady06reaper , @alanamarie , @daryldixmedown , @celtic-crossbow , @mrdixon , @itwasntaphasema , @duffmckagansbandana , @raspberryslxt , @itsrainingbisexualfrogs , @ingstadstarlight ,

⊰ Chapter 1 ⊰ » » YOU’RE HERE « « ⊰ Chapter 3 ⊰

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sugawara-kkoushi · 1 year

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Thoughts about Rezaren’s characterization:

Spoilers beneath the cut.

I’ve seen some people lament the way his character seems to completely flip in episode 4, saying it feels unrealistic and reductive. But that scene was honestly my favorite in the whole series.

I’ve seen complaints like these with other villains before, in which they’re “cartoonishly evil, puppy-kicking villains” that suddenly feel one-dimensional because they’re going to such extremes and seem beyond reason. While that can be true for some villains, that’s not the case with Rezaren.

What makes the mindscape scene between him and Miriam so good is how much it highlights his core perspective: That she belongs to him. Rezaren hasn’t changed at all - we’re just getting a stark, real picture of his true colors. His personality, motivations, everything - remain consistent from start to finish.

His introduction scene tells us everything we need to know about his character: He’s charismatic, commanding, and self-serving. His love interest tries to stop him from summoning a spirit, but he disregards and manipulates her with hollow placations. Then he refuses to heed the summoned Memory Spirit’s warnings, only talking over it and trying to force it to do what he wants. Two times in one scene, he’s been told “No”, and two times, he disregards what others have to say. He will get what he wants, be it by manipulation or by force.

As the story unfolds, his love interest tries and fails multiple times to tell him “No” - “No, you shouldn’t go back to the vault”, “No, you can’t use blood magic”, “No, you have to stay in your quarters as is lockdown protocol”, “No, I’m in the middle of an interrogation” - and every single time he asserts his authority over her to get his way.

Then we get to the mindscape conversation between him and Miriam. He shows her memories of their past growing up together - visions where they’re happy and playing like siblings. But when she shows him her own perspective - one which shatters any idea that they were familial equals, he can’t accept it. Indeed, he completely dismisses it, saying that they were all suffering under his mother’s parenting, so they were the same.

But that’s not when he turns on her.

It’s when she tells him simply, “No.”

It’s when he “offers” her a chance to be his slave again, but treated “like a sister” as he rules the Chantry as the new Divine. A single refusal from her, and the vision in the mindscape literally starts to crumble and crack violently. It’s here that he rips into her - tearing her dignity down, telling her she’s less than a slave, that he offers her purpose and that she will only live because he wills it.

This is what real life manipulative abusers do. They tear you apart, then offer you salvation - salvation that only comes by living the way they tell you to. And if you dare to refuse? They get violent.

He is an Abuser - a Slaver.

This is why I think his characterization was better than what people think. He didn’t “suddenly become evil” - he always was. This is what real abusers look like. To most, they seem pretty okay and generally get along with people. But that monstrous, narcissistic mindset lurking beneath the surface can come out very fast when challenged.

#dragon age absolution #rezaren #character analysis #dragon age

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helloheyhihowdyheya · 1 year

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Familiar Faces

Eddie Munson x gn!reader

Masterlist

Summary: Eddie's still getting used to life with you, especially once his dad shows up.

Word count: ~1.7k

Warnings: Mentions of Eddie's bad childhood, Eddie's dad (yikes), swearing, angst, lots of fluff!!! Eddie's a sweetie and he loves you <3

A/n: I really loved writing this fic, it just felt so right for Eddie. Hope you enjoy it, I would love to hear what you think! Thank you for reading

Familiar, for Eddie, had never stayed the same – but at least it was consistent. No matter where they were, Eddie had gotten good at keeping quiet when his parents fought. Got even better at acting out when he could outrun them or had a locked door between them.

He’d learned how to pick up things fast, whether learning how to hotwire a car or pick a lock during their father–son bonding time. And he memorized the man’s schedule so Eddie could go to bed and wake up early so he never had to face his dad.

Familiar had been shoving down his honest thoughts and feelings, until he pushed away himself too.

But, those habits had now started to fade in your home with him. It was still there, embedded into his mind like any other piece of survival DNA, but Eddie was learning. He fought the urge to quiet himself all the time or fear someone’s anger, and though it took slow practice, you were there to show him a new familiar – one that comforted him and kept him safe.

Sometimes, he would tense at your touch, but Eddie couldn’t help softening into it when he realized it was you. When he focused really hard on something, with that scrunched-up face and tongue sticking out between his teeth, you would tuck his hair behind his ear so he could see better. Even when you were occupied with something else, if you walked past him or wrapped your arms around him from behind, you were there to walk your fingers up his neck and past his cheekbones to brush a loose curl from his face.

And every time you came home, you kept a soft hand on the door as it shut, keeping it from slamming closed. He noticed you do it after accidentally letting it close with a bang once – you were there next to him in an instant after his entire body shot up and panicked breaths fell from his lips. You hadn’t done it since, even closing the cupboards and drawers just as quietly.

You gave him kindness he wasn’t always sure he deserved. The heat that traveled up his arms when you held his hand still shocked him, as if he’d been unexpectedly burned, but he loved the warmth you gave. When you rubbed his back as he curled over the toilet bowl with a stomach bug, Eddie swore he didn’t feel as sick – as if you were some sort of cure for anything wrong in his life.

With you, he was slowly learning to stop wincing after apologizing or messing something up. He stopped preparing himself for yelling and anger every time something went wrong.

You let him talk on and on about his favorite books and his current D&D campaign without complaint, always squeezing his hand when he apologized for rambling too long. And when he made a joke at his expense for a cheap laugh and distraction from the truth, you reassured him then too. He loved and hated the way you saw through him – peeked through his carefully crafted wall at all of his tactics like it was the easiest thing you’d ever done.

Eddie, who hadn’t told anyone the details of his parents, opened up to you within a few months of dating. You held onto each other as his tears dripped onto your shoulder (and your tears onto his, though you had hoped he hadn’t noticed you were also crying) (he did). His breath turned shaky and body tired from holding onto it all for so long – the sadness, the anger, the guilt. He’d been ready for you to turn away, to take one look at his brokenness and finally learn that he wasn’t worth your love. But you did love him, as you told him over and over again throughout the night.

So, really, he shouldn’t have been surprised by your protectiveness the day you two went over to Uncle Wayne’s. You’d immediately agreed to go help him when he mentioned getting rid of a bunch of junk from the trailer. Eddie loved watching you laugh with his uncle, the way you just fit into their lives so naturally.

But while you were busy organizing what to give away and what to send to the garbage and Wayne left to grab more garbage bags, Eddie slowly made his way to his old room. Though Wayne now slept in here rather than on the couch, nearly everything Eddie had left here hadn’t been touched. “So you always have a home here, son,” Uncle Wayne had told him. Staring at the old posters and his miscellaneous knickknacks from childhood, Eddie tried not to get too nostalgic – not that he’d even been gone that long.

As he began to sort one of the junk drawers there, his finger caught on a small trinket he couldn’t believe he left there. Pulling it out, he held in his palm the paper clip ring you’d made him when the two of you first started dating. He hadn’t taken it off for months… except when he was afraid it’d get dirty or damaged in some way. Maybe he’d lost it then, but either way, he couldn’t contain his easy smile at slipping the ring back onto his finger.

Eddie let memories of the early months of your relationship play through his head when he heard you and a man speaking outside. He thought nothing of it – you were friendly with several of his old neighbors – except for impatience at wanting to show you the ring.

But it all fell away once your voice grew louder as you began shouting. In an instant, Eddie’s head whipped toward the sound before he started running through to the trailer’s door.

“Get the fuck out of here, douchebag,” you screamed as you stomped down the wooden steps. “I swear to god, I’ll bash your head in!”

Eddie stood in the doorway watching you seethe and only then did notice the baseball bat clutched between your fingers. He was about to call out to you when he saw who you were yelling at.

With a loose cigarette hanging from his lips, his father stood next to his rundown truck with that scowl Eddie knew so well – the grooves etched between the man’s eyebrows had carved themselves into the folds of Eddie’s memory.

Any words that Eddie wanted to say shriveled up in his throat, his lungs now finding it hard to breathe. He should’ve run after you, or in front of you to protect you somehow. He should’ve intervened – this was his fight after all. But his blood ran cold, paralyzed him as memories he’d tried to forget overtook his mind.

Eddie was no longer an adult, but a terrified boy hiding in his closet at hearing the rumble of his dad’s truck return home. He was helpless again, the corners of his eyes beginning to sting with tears. His knuckles began to ache as he clutched the side of the trailer.

Maybe he would’ve been broken from his trance and beat the shit out of his deadbeat dad if the man posed any danger toward you. But through the fog of his fear of memories, he saw the man he’d hated for years swearing and scrambling back to his truck.

Vaguely, on the periphery of Eddie’s awareness, he heard you still yelling.

“If you ever come back, you’ll need to call the cops to save your ass! I promise that I’ll fucking-”

Eddie’s eyes fought to look up from the ground as the rumbling of the truck’s engine cut off your words.

Even as the tires kicked up dirt while his dad threw the vehicle into reverse, Eddie’s chest still felt too tight. The image of Uncle Wayne coming back to the trailer and begin yelling at his dad too couldn’t break Eddie from his trance either

Beneath the noise of the engines and shouting, he could at least clearly see the middle finger Wayne threw into the air as his dad drove off.

Still, he hadn’t turned from the doorway – his eyes just trailing after the truck. So many days Eddie had wished for the sight of his dad leaving for good, and now he got to see it because of you.

He didn’t know how long he stood there, swaying with his heartbeat pounding throughout his body. It must’ve only been a few moments because you were right there asking him something, but all he felt was the warmth of your palms cupping around his cheeks.

Your touch brought his gaze to you, brushing along the curves of your face. You’d dropped the bat at some point, chest still rising and falling fast as your arms wrapped around him.

“Eddie, I’m so sorry. Are you okay?” you asked, forehead pressed against his. Your eyes traced all over his face, looking for any sign of distress.

He held onto you tight, letting out a long sigh. As he breathed, the scent of your shampoo and just you grounded him here, away from those memories.

“I love you so much, ” he whispered against you. It’s all he could say, the words brushing along your skin. His fingers curled tight into your shirt, just savoring the feeling of having you there with him.

As his breathing slowed, Uncle Wayne climbed the steps behind you, and though he wasn’t a hugging man, he wrapped the two of you in a hug.

“If that bastard ever steps a foot back here, it’ll be the last thing he ever does,” he said, the rumbling of his voice vibrating through his chest.

Maybe, on another day, Eddie would laugh at his uncle’s words. But here, he bit back tears standing with the people that showed him kindness and taught him that he deserved it too.

You held him extra tight that night, in your shared bed, surrounded by four walls that had never trapped him or heard him cry alone. Pressed against your body, he fell asleep easily knowing he’d wake up loved by you.

A/n: Thank you for reading <3 Please let me know what you thought, it really helps motivate authors :)

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x gn!reader #eddie munson fluff #stranger things #eddie stranger things #joseph quinn eddie munson #eddie munson angst

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almightyellie · 2 years

Text

all your'n

in which you both know that he loves you. of course, you do.

word count is 1.6k

author says i simply love jake seresin, but not as much as i love a wedding date fic <3

title inspo is all your'n by tyler childers

“you two are a beautiful couple.”

an hour and a half ago, you might have corrected jake’s aunt (cousin?), but how many times can you smile politely and say, oh, just friends, actually and face that expression, half confused and half disappointed? now, you and jake just smile, and jake squeezes your waist while you say, “that’s so sweet, thank you.”

a wedding had seemed like an easy favor, but now you wonder how it ever could be. a room full of seresins, a little boozy and high off a joining of two souls. they’re as southern as southern comes, and the thrill of love and alcohol only further emphasizes this. jake laughs softly in your ear, squeezing you close.

he should have known that this would happen—you have a sneaking suspicion that maybe he did—but he had a little extra faith in his family, hoping they would be focused only on his baby sister on her day. you can tell she kind of loves it, though, because every time you catch her eye with a silent plea for help, she giggles and claps. she’s almost as bad as her brother.

neither of them are half as bad as their mother.

“isn’t it wonderful?” she croons, holding the two of you together. “i’ve been telling them to get together for years. they finally listened.” she finishes with a wink in your direction and a knowing smile. she truly had been telling you two to get together as long as she’s known you, but she’s taking this opportunity to really play it up.

you pinch jake’s side, sharing a knowing look with him. his tux offsets his tanned skin beautifully despite his complaints. beth had insisted he not wear his uniform (“don’t steal my limelight, asshole!”) to her civilian wedding, and though you loved a chance to see him in his uniform, it had been years since you’d seen him in any non-military formal wear. oh, was it a sight.

with a soft smile, he nods once. “c’mon, sweetheart,” he goads. “i think you’ve earned a drink.”

it’s almost a struggle to get to the bar unscathed, but it’s oh so worth it when you do and jake pays for your drink. “you shouldn’t have, babe,” you giggle.

he laughs good-naturedly. “you’re annoying. sit down.”

jake’s feeling like a real big man with you on his arm, looking so right and pretty. he’s been looking forward to this for weeks; any excuse to spend a few hours with you making him look better. he has to admit, his family is right. the two of you are a damn fine couple, and the ache he’s gotten so used to hurts a little more than normal.

you’ve known one another for years. somedays, jake thinks you know him better than he knows himself. most days, though, he knows that couldn’t possibly be true. if you knew him better than he knew himself, you would know that sometimes you smile at him and he gets a head rush. you would know that he lies awake at night just in case you text him something ridiculous about your cat or your job. you can’t know that just the sight of you makes his heart pound and his mouth dry because if you did, you would never look at him the same. you could never treat him like he’s just jake ever again, because you would know that you weren’t, and never had been, just you. you had always been everything.

you know a little more than you let on, but you won’t ever bring it up. he hadn’t always been so obvious, but since his return from top gun, he’s been just slightly different. you can’t know the specifics, but you know that he’s had a change of heart; he’s a little more open, a little more apologetic. a little less subtle. your best friend has such an ego, he might never survive if you told him that his jealousy, that his almost-yearning has been clear as day for the last few months.

he doesn’t realize that he’s been staring until you tilt your head at him with the sweetest smile he’s ever seen. “what?” you ask, taking a long pull from your water.

“i like this,” he answers honestly, brushing his knuckles softly against your hairline.

you smile disbelievingly at him, slightly incredulous. “like what?”

his cheeks pinken up and his smile, though still trying to pull off that smug act, can’t fool you. he’s bashful. “i just mean…that i like when we’re together.”

with a quiet laugh, you say, “well, i should hope so. we’ve spent the last ten years glued together.” the song changes and he loses what little nerve he managed to scrape together, so he finishes your water and nods when you insist, “come dance with me.”

“the road cones blur like memories of the miles we shared between,” he sings easily, wrapping one of his arms around your waist and grabbing your hand with the other. it’s one of his favorites, one you know far too well, and you’re happy to let him hum in your ear. he’s only a little tone-deaf—he struggles with the higher notes, and it’s such a familiar sound that you melt into his chest.

with his mouth against your ear and his thumb stroking circles against the back of your hand, you two sway on the dance floor. you like this, too. you like the way he holds you, how he smiles at you like you’re the only person he can see. you like when he sings to you even though you always jeer him, even though there are people around, even though he doesn’t need to.

the lights strung across the venue ceiling reflect in your eyes when you pull back to look at him. he’s entranced, especially when the corner of your lip turns up. “now what’s that look?”

he shakes his head with a growing grin, pulling you a little closer. “just thinking,” he answers.

your brows pinch in faux concern. “careful, seresin. you’ve been doing a lot of that tonight; don’t hurt yourself.”

with a roll of his eyes, he pinches your side. “watch it,” he warns, the smile evident in his voice, and you giggle.

“i think i smell smoke.”

jake heaves a long sigh, still swaying with you as you muffle your giggles in his suit jacket. “you think you’re cute, huh?”

you beam at him, tilting your head. “i think we both know that i’m adorable.”

“and you’re lucky you are, honey,” he murmurs, warm hand stroking up your spine. he’s looking at you unflinchingly, that twitch of his lips giving away his thoughts. It’s the first time all night that he isn’t shying away from openly adoring you.

you shiver under his gaze; he looks better than ever, under the soft lighting in his fancy suit. it’s the low rumble of his words, your chests pressed together, and the way he looks at you. you’ve always seen that little glimmer of adoration in him; you know him too well not to. part of you was waiting on him to make a move, but something about this moment—the warmth of his body and the way his eyes flicker to your lips, the unconscious way he pulls you closer.

jake feels faint at the sober way you look at him, like you’re looking right through him into his very soul. he almost shivers against you, but you don’t notice. you’re too busy leaning into him, resting your weight against his chest and nudging your nose against his. you’re sure his mother is staring, but you can’t find it in yourself to pull away; the thought of being watched doesn’t even cross jakes mind. he’s too wrapped up in you, eagerly awaiting your next move.

featherlight, your lips brush his. it’s hesitant, a little bashful, and he doesn’t want to startle you away but he can’t help himself. he makes the final leap and presses his lips to yours. a large, warm hand fills the dip of the small of your back, and you take in a deep breath as he kisses you earnestly. you stroke his cheek tenderly, allowing him more access. a little shiver trembles down your spine, goosebumps blooming across your arms; you hadn’t realized how desperate you had been to break the contract of your friendship until you had. years of waving off his mother and sister, years of waiting for him to make the first move, and you could have had him like this the entire time.

you pull away to suck in a soft breath, keeping him close when you press your forehead against his shoulder. his nose buries itself in your hair, breathing you in while you take a moment to consider him. over the speakers, the emcee—jake’s little brother showing off his seresin charm, naturally—begins to calling for the bouquet toss. “single ladies,” he croons, arching a suggestive brow. “what are y’all waiting for? get up here.” jake chuckles, rolling his eyes, and you can’t help your own laugh, muffled against your best friend’s chest.

“he’s such a showboat,” you scoff.

you lean back to look at him, and those green eyes look back at you so tenderly. his hand lifts, fingertips brushing your cheekbone, and in that soft tone that you love so much, he asks, “you gonna go up there?”

as if it were possible, you lean even closer and give him another soft kiss. “no. think i’m going to stay with you.”

he beams.

#jake hangman seresin #jake seresin #jake seresin imagine #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin oneshot #hangman seresin #hangman x reader #hangman imagine #hangman oneshot

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diorsluv · 4 months

Text

feather , part 22

“ with you out my life ”

series m. list previous chapter next chapter

( socialmedia!au )

yourusername

liked by lhughes_06, _quinnhughes, edwards.73, and 81,177 others

yourusername she’s officially a single pringle nowww ‼️ if u see me on tinder no u dont 🫢🫢

view all comments

jackhughes i love pringles

→ yourusername pringles don’t love you back

→ trevorzegras jack’s been a single pringle longer than you have yourusername

→ lhughes_06 oh 😒

luca.fantilli is that why you popped up when i searched up the girl of my dreams

→ yourusername good thing it’s called a dream for a reason 🥰

→ luca.fantilli i knew i shouldn’t have turned to tiktok for pickup lines

→ lhughes_06 oh 🫤

username20 why is luca flirting with mini drizzy this aint right

mackie.samo swipe right when you see me

→ yourusername why are you all doing this

→ rutgermcgroarty not if she sees me first

→ adamfantilli jokes on you she swiped right on me already

→ lhughes_06 oh 😓

trevorzegras not for long 😘😘

→ yourusername get the hell away from me i’m barely legal

→ trevorzegras you are not “barely legal” 🙄 AND ALSO stop making me look like the bad guy

→ yourusername you are the bad guy

→ trevorzegras i’m fighting the urge to strangle you

→ yourusername i don’t my brother would really appreciate you saying that 😒

→ lhughes_06 oh 🤬

edwards.73 your hands look pretty

→ yourusername hand kink????

→ edwards.73 WAIT NO FUCK

→ markestapa eddy this is not what we discussed

→ luca.fantilli bro you did it wrong

→ edwards.73 i’m sorry 😕

→ lhughes_06 oh 😨

username12 why the hell does luke keep going “oh”

→ username3 and why the hell is everyone tryna make a move on my girl 😟😟

colecaufield my friend’s younger brother was asking about you

→ yourusername jokes on you i know you don’t have any friends

→ jackhughes is this about who i think it’s about

→ colecaufield no one of our friends’ brothers actually asked me about her.. jackhughes

→ lhughes_06 oh 😞

markestapa damn how’d you manage to crop me out of that first pic

→ mackie.samo the implications are wild

→ dylanduke25 wow u were in her bed 😱

→ yourusername yes dylan he was in my bed WAITING FOR ME TO PAINT HIS NAILS

→ markestapa HELL NO i was just watching you do yours 🙄🙄

→ lhughes_06 oh 😧

username99 luke keeps oh-ing i’m slightly scared for him!

username45 SHE’S FINALLY FREE

→ username24 escaped booking.com’s basement

→ username27 BOOKING.COM???? 😭😭😭

username71 are they all commenting this shit on purpose lmfaoooo

username36 if their goal is to make luke mad i’m sure they’re succeeding

→ username2 fr i can hear him sobbing from here

jamie.drysdale

liked by _alexturcotte, mackie.samo, rutgermcgroarty, and 64,312 others

jamie.drysdale reminder to never break up with someone over text

tagged: yourusername

view all comments

_quinnhughes she’s gonna kill you LMAO

→ jamie.drysdale oh please she can’t even push me

→ trevorzegras jamie last time she quite literally almost knocked your head on the corner of the counter

yourusername first of all JAMIE I CANT BELIEVE YOU

yourusername THIS IS SO FUCKING FOUL

yourusername LIKE THATS AN OUTDATED PIC YOU CAN’T USE IT

yourusername I’M NEVER FUCKING VISITING YOU AGAIN

yourusername and it wasn’t text it was warzone because he blocked me on everything else 🙄

→ jamie.drysdale one, that’s embarrassing, and two, STOP SPAMMING MY COMMENTS

→ yourusername ok mr proper grammar

→ jamie.drysdale your so annoying

→ yourusername okay i take it back your grammar is ass

adamfantilli aw was she crying

→ jamie.drysdale yeah we got a noise complaint from our neighbors

→ yourusername i can’t tell if you’re being sarcastic or not 😕😕

→ adamfantilli aw were u crying ☹️😔😖😣😩😪

→ yourusername aw did i accidentally block you ☹️😔😖😣😩😪

colecaufield don’t tell me she was actually crying over blaker

→ jamie.drysdale she was!

→ yourusername she was not!

username27 first pic is me knowing dryshughes is never gonna happen

→ username89 IT WILL HAPPEN

→ username37 DONT PUSH UR NEGATIVE THOUGHTS ONTO US

→ username14 ur praying for our downfall arent u

username54 honestly tho she’s a mood

username28 i cant believe jamie actually posted this

jackhughes i just realized you have her saved as “fucking menace 🥰”

→ jamie.drysdale i hate her

→ yourusername don’t u think that’s a little mean jimmy johns????

→ jamie.drysdale god here you go AGAIN with the nicknames 🙄

→ yourusername YOU LAUGHED AT MY NICKNAME FOR JACK WTF DO U MEAN

→ jackhughes HUH WHAT NICKNAME????

→ yourusername don’t worry about it jacky boy

edwards.73 i could’ve sworn i heard a witch screeching but ig it was her crying

→ mackie.samo it’s okay man we all heard it

→ jamie.drysdale can confirm that’s what it sounded like

→ yourusername can confirm i’m being harassed by my friends and brother

→ dylanduke25 we were never your friends yourusername

→ yourusername oh 😥

yourusername i forgot to say i’m not heartbroken

yourusername so STOP MAKING ME LOOK LIKE I’M SAD

→ jamie.drysdale i thought i told you to stop spamming my comments

→ yourusername i’m not even spamming ur such a baby 😒

→ jamie.drysdale RESPECT ME IM OLDER

→ yourusername whatever

next chapter notes ) like i said in my other post i’ve been so tied up in school it’s been hard to get these chapters out WITH GOOD QUALITY nonetheless i hope it was still enjoyable albeit late 😭 also i forgot to mention but u mightve noticed the song lyric at the beginning of the chapter is NOT in order (yes it annoys me) but i didnt wanna repeat lyrics so that’s just how i’m gonna put them in for the rest of the song: if the lyric has been repeated then i’ll skip it til i get to the next new one 🙏🙏

tags: @aliaology @hockeyboysarehot @absolutelyhugh3s @jackquinnswife @freds-slut @love4ldr @blueeyedbesson @43hughes @v1olentdelights @dancerbailey3 @random-human02 @ho3forfakeguys

#luke hughes x reader #luke hughes x y/n #luke hughes fic #luke hughes fanfic #luke hughes #quinn hughes #jack hughes #alex turcotte #cole caufield #trevor zegras #jamie drysdale #ethan edwards #dylan duke #mark estapa #mackie samoskevich #adam fantilli #rutger mcgroarty #luca fantilli

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unclewaynemunson · 1 year

Text

aight this is gonna get angsty

One morning Steve’s car won’t start when he has to get to work, so he calls Eddie to ask if he can give him (and Robin) a ride. Eddie, who knows a thing or two about cars, offers to try and fix the problem instead; it’s Saturday so he has nowhere else to be anyway. Eddie drives to the Harrington house and they swap keys. While Steve drives Eddie’s van into town, Eddie goes to work on Steve’s fancy car.

It doesn’t take long before one of the neighbors sees him: the infamous Munson boy, never up to any good, in the middle of Loch Nora, bent over a car that’s probably worth more than his own home. That can only mean one thing, right?

When the Hawkins police get a call from the concerned neighbor, they quickly get into action. Attempted car theft by the guy who already has a name for possessing various kinds of drugs, the guy whose father is behind bars for grand theft auto and arson? Doesn’t sound too far-fetched, and definitely sounds more exciting than the usual bar fights or property damage complaints that take up the majority of their jobs ever since the Upside Down has been defeated for good.

‘I wasn’t stealing his car, I was fixing it! I’m his friend,’ Eddie splutters when two cops forcefully push him against the side of the car, but they only laugh at that while they handcuff him.

‘Yeah, sure you are.’ Deputy Callahan utters a sharp laugh. ‘Steve Harrington’s friend, good one, freak.’

‘If you call Hopper -’

‘Chief's daughter is ill and we can do our jobs just fine without him. You’re coming with us, punk.’

Rationally, Eddie knows that it’ll all be sorted out in no time. He’ll be kept in detention at the station for a while, they’ll call Steve at Family Video, and Steve will probably lose his shit and get him out in no time. He knows that. But merely knowing it doesn’t help him when he’s all alone in a tiny cell with nothing but his thoughts. He had sworn to himself he wouldn’t end up like this - like his father. Yet here he is. Another Munson in jail for stealing cars. For stealing Steve’s car. How the hell could he ever have thought that he’d be good enough for someone like Steve?

By the time Steve gets to the station and his loud voice echoes through the hallways as he follows deputy Callahan to Eddie’s cell, inexhaustibly scolding the man, Eddie has already lost it completely.

‘Fuck,’ Steve mumbles, his voice suddenly much softer, when he sees Eddie all folded into himself in the corner of the cell, his arms wrapped around his pulled-up legs and his cheeks wet with tears.

As soon as the cell door opens, he rushes over to Eddie and kneels down in front of him, placing one hand on his shoulder and the other on his knee.

‘Hey, Eddie, I got you, there’s nothing to be afraid of anymore, okay? I’m here. I’m getting you out.’

But Eddie is crying so desperately that he can’t even speak.

‘Nothing happened, alright? I’m here,’ Steve repeats. ‘They already dropped all the charges. You got nothing to worry about.’ He pauses for a moment, looks at Eddie intently. ‘Is this about your father?’

Eddie shakes his head. ‘It’s... It’s ‘bout you,’ he manages to get out in between sobs.

‘About me?’ Steve stares at him in confusion.

‘You shouldn’t... Shouldn’t be friends... with me, Steve.’

‘Woah, Eddie, come here.’ Steve drops down onto both knees so that he can wrap his arms around Eddie, gently stroking his back and letting him cry against the fabric of his Family Video vest until Steve’s whole shoulder is wet and Eddie finally has calmed down a little bit.

‘What made you say that?’ he finally asks, softly, when Eddie’s breathing has gone back to normal and he isn’t sobbing anymore.

‘I don’t know why we were pretending that we - that we could be friends,’ Eddie says, voice still thick with tears and sounding a little bit choked. ‘I’m nothing like you. When I’m at your house, everyone thinks I’m stealing your car. And that would make way more sense than the truth, wouldn’t it? They’re right. I’m not - I can’t be - I’ll never be good enough for you. I’m too much like him - just look at me now! You’d never end up in this place when you’re fixing someone’s car. But I’m just like him, and that means I’ll only end up hurting everyone I love - I’ll only end up hurting you.’

‘Eddie.’ Steve says his name so softly, while combing through his hair so gently, and Eddie doesn’t believe he deserves any of that kindness.

‘You’re nothing like your father. Everything you told me about him... It’s nothing like you. None of it is. You’re - you’re so kind and brave and loving and good. You shouldn’t believe a thing of what my dumb neighbors are thinking about you. We know they’re wrong, that’s all that matters, alright? And they better get used to you hanging out at my house, ‘cause I don’t give a shit about what they think, you’ll always be welcome there, even if they call the cops on you everyday. I want you there, Eddie.’

Eddie, exhausted from all his emotions, is barely able process that much sweetness. It’s too much; those reassuring words and the tender way in which Steve is brushing his thumbs over Eddie’s cheeks to wipe away his tears. It is making him lose any last ounce of common sense; he can only give in to those tender touches and press his lips against Steve’s.

Within a second, his brain catches up to what his body has decided would be a good idea, and he freezes in terror. Surely Steve will despise him now; surely he’ll push him away, punch him, call him all kinds of terrible names, lock him back into that cell...

But none of that happens. Steve only produces a surprised sound from the back of his throat, then presses his lips firmly against Eddie’s, soft and warm and gentle, while cradling his arms around him.

It only takes a few seconds, then Steve pulls back, blushing fervently and with a somewhat shocked look on his face.

‘Um. That was... Holy shit.’ He draws in a shuddering breath. ‘They probably have cameras in here, don’t they?’

Eddie can only nod stupidly.

Steve moves his arm to grab Eddie’s hand and squeezes it lightly.

‘How about I get you outta here, and we do um...’ His eyes flash down to Eddie’s lips for a split second. ‘And we do that again somewhere we have more privacy?’

---

They take their time in the back of Eddie’s van, kissing and talking and then kissing some more. When Eddie finally drops Steve off at Family Video to let him finish what’s left of his shift, he feels like he might never be able to stop smiling anymore.

‘Hey, um...’ he starts, ‘When you tell people about us, can you please leave out the part where I had a completely pathetic breakdown, and maybe instead say that you fell in love with me because of how immensely cool and badass I looked behind bars?’

Steve lets out a loud laugh. He reaches out his hand to play with one of Eddie’s curls. ‘That’s gonna be a no,’ he says, still chuckling but with an earnest look in his soft brown eyes. ‘I like our story just the way it is. As far as I’m concerned, everybody can know how strongly you feel things and what a huge softie you are. That’s nothing to be ashamed of. It’s exactly what I like so much about you.’

#don't mind me rambling about stranger things #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #fruity ficlet #angst

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lokischocolatefountain · 5 months

Text

Picture || Mister Miller

Part 2 of Mister Miller. Read Part 1 here.

Fandom: The Last of Us (HBO)

Pairing: Joel Miller x Reader

Rating: 18+ (masturbation, nudes, looking at someone’s nudes without consent, girthy age gap, boyfriend’s dad!Joel, pervy Joel, potential future infidelity, no outbreak)

Word Count: 960 words

Summary: Joel knows he shouldn’t, especially with the guilt of his shameful secret sitting heavy in his chest. But there are so many pictures of you and he is just a man.

A/N: Day 1 was so much fun! I hope everyone is having a good December. Thank you to everyone who reblogged, commented, and liked. It means a lot 🥹. Now here’s our favorite old man for day 2. Tomorrow will be my OG, the one who got me into this Pedro Pascal mess- Javier Peña... Keep a look out for more in the Masterlist. Aaaand leave your girl a comment please🥺🥺

“You should get a new one,” Matt said, typing something up real fast on his laptop.

Joel snorted and said, “Sure, I’ll sell that little computer of yours and buy myself a nice iPhone with the four cameras and shit.”

“It’s three cameras and a LiDAR scanner, dad,” he snarked, finally unlocking his spare phone and sliding it across the table to Joel.

“What’s that? Like the scanner on printers?” He asked, confused once more by technology. The kind of things that came out these days were too much for him to be able to wrap his mind around. Chat GPT, hyaluronic acid, iPads, this fucking scanner thing.

“It’s this sensor that projects invisible lasers and gets data on how far every single thing is. And that way, it can map an entire room,” he said, using gestures to mimic laser beams shooting into a room.

“Sounds like it’ll be more useful in construction. The fuck you need that for?”

He shrugged and went back to his work, the clacking of keys filling up the room once more. Whatever. He needed a spare phone to replace his shit blackberry Sarah got him eons ago. The thing had been through a lot with him and honestly, he couldn’t be too mad at it for dying on him. In all the years he had it, he had taken a few pictures here and there of his kids. But everything else in his gallery was filled with pictures of worksites. Broken pumps, proof to send clients that they were at the site that day, pictures of sample tiles to show clients… Nothing personal. It was the only thing he did on that phone other than making calls.

As he retired for the day, he thought to learn about his new old phone a little. See if the camera was any better. He propped a pillow up against the headboard and leaned back. When he finally found the camera app, he took a couple pictures of his room. Looking back at them, he was a little glad that his old phone died. The camera on this thing was better. It was newer than his old one, so maybe that was it. He didn’t have complaints about his old one, but damn this was it. It was so fucking good.

He swiped his thumb against the screen, looking at pictures, not stopping when he went back to pictures of his son. Pictures of him partying that he had never shown his old man before. He smiled, going through pictures of a side of his son’s life he never knew. Shit parents never got to see.

His heart leapt out at the next swipe, the screen filled with a picture of a nude woman.

You, he realized as he looked at the face. You had a smile on, the same sweet one you always sent him when you exchanged pleasantries and thanked him for letting you crash at his place for the summer. But the picture of you was anything but sweet.

He swiped to the previous picture, an identical one. Except you were biting your bottom lip and looking at him—at the camera with a sultry gaze. His mouth watered as he focused on your tits. Fuuuck they were good ones, he had to admit. He wasn’t a boob man. Or an ass man, frankly. He was just bad at the whole thing. But yours ignited something in him.

He found an entire album full of nude pictures of you. Pictures you posed for. There was a variety. You nude, you in bikinis, in figure hugging dresses that drove him crazier than the first category. In high heels, sideways pictures of your reflection where you stuck your ass out. One with you sucking on a fucking popsicle. Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck.

He’d told himself it was wrong. He’d found his pleasure in others. But fuck he couldn’t get his mind off of you. And now here you were, naked on his phone without your knowledge.

As he wrapped his hand around his hardening cock, he knew that he’d lost the fight. He should not be doing this. But just this once. It was his phone now after all. A justification. Weak, but it was all he had in the moment.

He pumped his cock, eyes trained on the pictures of you. He swiped back and forth between the pictures, desperate to have you in all your forms. In the cocktail dresses and the ratty old t-shirts. Wearing the bright red lipstick and the soft pink one. He imagine you, whimpering quietly the way you did that night when he found you fucking yourself in his living room.

He groaned, his cock twitching at the recollection of his creepy voyeurism. He wondered what you sounded like when you had a man. When you didn’t have to rely on your fingers, but had a good girth cock thrusting in and out. When you had a finger rubbing your clit softly. He imagined his large hand full with your breast, his lips sucking on the other one.

On your knees, right here in his bedroom, his cock in your mouth instead of in his fist. As your licked his balls with his cock deep in your throat in his mind’s eye, he exploded, coating his hand in sticky white ropes of his cum. He groaned and pulled out a few tissues, wiping off the mess you’d created.

His perverted mind imagined you still there, eagerly licking up his release. His mind was no longer pleased with such sinful images of you. The clarity that came after his orgasm tasted bitter on his tongue.

He would have to delete the photos. Tomorrow. He’d do it tomorrow.

Advent Calendar Masterlist

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coralinnii · 1 year

Text

Under a mistletoe with them feat: Idia, Sebek, Epel, Cater genre: fluff note: relationships is up to interpretation, no pronouns were used, I have no idea how mistletoe traditions actually work so that’s something to note,

“Grim, would you please help me with the decorations?” You pleaded, exasperated with the lazy monster laying on the couch while you hung up lights in the living space.

“Why should I? This was your idea anyway” Grim grumbled which left you to sigh.

You realize that Christmas doesn’t exist in this universe (or at least your version of it, anyway) but feeling nostalgic and a little homesick, you thought decorating the Ramshackle dorm would bring your mood up a little…if your dorm mate would be a little bit more cooperative.

“Well, the faster we finish decorating the faster I can get started on making cookies and some hot drinks”

“Myrah, why didn’t you say so? This place will be Crust-mas ready!” the young monster was quick to his feet at the mention of a sweet reward, yanking the decorations around to hang them in a haste.

“It’s Christmas” you chuckled but decided with Grim motivated well enough, you thought you could head into the kitchen to get a head start of the treats you promised. You already told the cat-like creature where things should be.

To be fair, you should have expected for things to not go as planned when the mistletoe you made in good fun falls atop of your surprise guest

Ortho convinced his brother to give his thanks in person when you offered to take his place for in-person presentation (Crowley refused to let him do it through his tablet). Idia figured he could quickly give his thanks then run back to his dorm. That’s fine, right?

He was close to a heart attack when the mistletoe fell on his head, poorly attached by Grim and you kept yourself from laughing while you plucked the decor from Idia’s flames.

You explained the mistletoe and its old tradition, which Idia just can’t believe the gall of your world.

“What crazy normies would ever think of this nonsense?! You’re jumping someone with this boss-level task without warning or prep! That's practically mission impossible!”

Despite the complaints, you saw that he didn’t move from his spot. He wasn’t trapped as he said he was and he could have walked away after saying his thanks, as he planned.

So, you took the chance. Hovering the mistletoe between the two of you, you gently place your lips onto his pale cheeks. A light feather-like touch but it set the senior’s heart racing and hair ablaze as he stumbled back onto the cold pavement.

Idia’s felt his body burn along his fiery locks as he clutched the fabric atop his chest in poor hopes to calm his speeding heart. His senses are going into overdrive as his mind replays the sensation of your soft lips on his cheeks over and over. He’s seen animes with lucky protagonists who get the chance like this and he's ashamed to catch himself occasionally switching the fictional couple as the two of you in his mind. But dreaming about it is vastly different from the real deal.

“T-This is why I can’t understand you extroverts, doing this like it’s no big deal! Don’t you have any mercy for poor souls like me?”

“Hey,” Idia flinched at the way you crouched to his sitting level, leaning your close to him. “Aren’t you being a little harsh?”

“H-Huh?”

“I wouldn’t do that with just anyone, you know?” You pouted before half-hardheartedly glared at the blue-flamed man, who couldn’t look away from such a cute sight “I did it because it’s you”

It was a Christmas miracle Idia didn’t pass out on your front porch.

Sebek was on his way to drop off some blankets and other warm materials to keep you from freezing in the dilapidated building you and Grim call home. Afterall, your weak human body can’t possibly withstand the cold unlike him (which is true, but he shouldn’t just say it).

He was about to go on another rant when he caught the decorative plant before it could touch his hair, appalled by the crumbling state of your dorm before you explained that Grim probably didn’t hang it properly.

He questioned the strange plant in his hand and you explained an old-fashioned tradition from your world, to which made the mixed fae to blush profusely.

He’s flabbergasted by the audacity of your world, to give away kisses so freely. He grew up learning the legend of a princess who shared her first kiss with her true love that broke her curse and he secretly hoped the same for his future love.

“You humans are so imprudent, so flippant with something that should be treasured!”

“Well, we don’t have to do it” you frowned, a little disappointed “Though, I wouldn’t mind it if it’s with you”

Now, Sebek was caught in a dilemma. Despite all his expressed displeasure, the chance to finally kiss you literally fell on him and you’ve given your consent to him. It may not fit the expectations of his first kiss with (not that he has ever thought about, of course!) but he wonders if another chance like this would ever come again.

Coughing into his fist to cover his nerves, he straightened his posture but his line of sight shifted to the side, avoiding your gaze which shook his confidence. “Since it is part of your tradition, I would be a disgrace to Lord Malleus’ name to disregard such a thing as his knight”

You would still have to be the one to close the gap however as Sebek shifted closer to you but with his eyes screwed shut and slightly shaking, he doesn't realize that he was still too far to reach your lips.

You took pity on the poor boy and closed the gap yourself, your lips gently on his shaking ones. You felt the green-haired student flinched but you said nothing about it, opting to lean your weight onto his built body. You could feel the green-haired fae relaxed under your touch, slowly leaning towards you himself to prolong the intimate moment.

When you separated, you saw that Sebek was slow to snap out from his daze, taking a while to open his bright green eyes and realize you already leaned away.

Quickly correcting his posture, he gave you a short goodbye and a nod before turning to walk back to his own dorm, taking quick but stiff steps at a time. You wondered if Sebek remembered that he still had the mistletoe in his grasp. You smiled, hoping to yourself that he would come back to return it.

Epel was making his way to your dorm with a crate of treats from his hometown. He was excited to share his family’s apple jam, hearing that you were planning to make cookies with jam fillings.

But imagine his surprise when he suddenly saw a strange plant land atop of his crate when you opened the door, with you softly cursing Grim for his lazy decorating.

You explain your reasoning for decorating and the strange plant to Epel and he suddenly felt the heat in his cheeks. Growing up without too many kids his age around, the idea of such a lovey-dovey tradition would never cross his mind.

“….Does it happen a lot to you?” He carefully asked as he placed the crate down to inspect the plant, hoping not to sound too jealous of the idea of you kissing other people. It may be a silly tradition but still, having the idea of others having such a chance with you rubs him the wrong way.

“Ah no, never” you replied, feeling a little shy. Despite making the mistletoe yourself, putting it up and doing it are two separate experiences. You explained that not many people do it anymore because “only the boldest” would ever go through with it, and you’ve never had such a chance.

Epel saw this as a chance to prove his confident, masculine side. Boldly, Epel picked the mistletoe and placed it as high as he could between you two. With a cocky grin, he asked you “Wanna give it a try, then?”

Perhaps a little too enthusiastic, Epel crashed his lips onto yours a bit too harshly, shocking you from the pressure of the kiss. After the shock however, you found a rhythm between you two and you closed your eyes to fully indulge in the touch. Be it his natural genetics or Vil's regime, you enjoyed the feel of Epel's lips on your own which felt soft to the touch despite the dizzying passion behind it.

Epel was the first to move away, breaking the spell. He’s brimming with pride looking at your dazed expression. He picked up the crate once more, bringing it into the kitchen.

“Come on, I’m curious about the cookies you told me. Could I stay and watch?”

You didn’t notice how the lilac-haired boy pocketed the mistletoe, already planning a trick or two that night.

The redhead ordered a few magicam-worthy pastries but since he doesn’t have much of a sweet tooth, he thought you would appreciate them more than he would (plus he wouldn’t mind taking a few pictures too).

When you opened the door, he was intrigued over the decor you and Grim put up and he had to stick around for some good shots when he felt a soft weight landing on his head. He saw the cute decor and asked you about it.

The more you explained the old tradition of the mistletoe, the more excited Cater was. How could he not with such a cute premise and the picture-worthy opportunity he could have with you. He had to try it, with your consent.

Since it was his idea (even though it’s your mistletoe), he decided to take the role as the initiator of the kiss. You trusted Cater so you closed your eyes and nervously waited for his kiss.

But Cater instead took the time to admire your face. He watched how your hair complimented the frame of your face, the pretty shade of your lips, the curve of your nose he would love to boop, and especially the plumpness of your cheeks.

He also saw the slight shake from your nerves, perhaps he made you wait too long, he mused.

Slowly, he captured your lips in his with a sense of gentleness you weren’t expecting. You could swoon with how soft Cater’s touch was, how careful he was with you to ensure your comfort.

The two of you separated, both a little light-headed from the experience. You felt hot from the sensation of the kiss but you can’t say you hated it.

“Ooops, my bad” you heard Cater, which you worriedly looked to. Cater himself looked a little embarrassed but not too upset.

“I totally forgot about taking pictures” you also realized that you didn’t sense the flash of his phone. Cater did pull out his phone this time and smiled coyly at you.

“Mind if we do another take?”

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