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luv4kozume · 13 days

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💋 𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐀 𝐍𝐔𝐌𝐁𝐄𝐑 — MATT STURNIOLO

— # ❝ 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐚𝐲 𝐢𝐭'𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐚𝐠𝐞, 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥…

𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐚𝐢𝐧'𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧' 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐚 𝐧𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 ! ❞ 🎧 ₊˚⊹

Homewrecker!Matt x Married!Fem!Reader

Contains: Swearing, hella plot/slow burn, mentions of financial abuse and an unhappy marriage, pet names, flirting, teasing, age gap (reader is 26, matt is 21), drinking alcohol, cheating, praise, spit, handjob, oral (both ways), missionary, leg lock, drunk sex, unprotected sex, creampie. Semi-proof read!

Synopsis: A story in which you and your next door neighbor, Matt, have some underlying attraction towards each other. But there is just one teensy little obstacle standing in the way… your “loving” husband.

Word Count: 7,975

a/n: part of the TRIPLE THREAT EVENT with sienna and maggie!! BE SURE TO READ THEIR FICS TODAY TOO!! 💗💗

a/n(2): this plot popped into my head at the most random time and it was so good that i had to take ‘cheating’ off my guidelines in my request rules??? 🤯

a/n(3): @rootbeerworshiper this was the little plot twist i told you about since the song is about a guy convincing an older woman to get with him (i really had to dissect those lyrics). hopefully i lived up to the expectation of the song lmaoo

*:･ﾟ✧ 💌 *:･ﾟ✧

It was hardly 10:06 A.M. on a weekday and your husband, John, was already starting the day off in a sour mood.

John had worked for a large advertising company and had held the title of the household’s ‘breadwinner’ rather proudly.

Perhaps a bit too proudly.

For the longest you’ve wanted to branch out and have something going on for yourself. However, having the luxury of financial freedom had never been in the cards for you, since he would always dismiss any notion of yours.

He would always say that ‘a woman should stay in the home’ or ‘it would make him seem less of a man if his wife was making money’.

He often hid behind the ‘traditional man’ role, as if that made up for his misogynistic and narcissistic behavior. Not that there’s anything wrong with being traditional, in fact you’d prefer some of those aspects of him.

But in reality he wasn’t ‘traditional’ in the slightest. Just a financially abusive asshole that you had been married to for the past six years.

You don’t even know how you’ve made it this long in the relationship, yet here you were, sitting at your white vanity in your shared bedroom. Face to face with your tired reflection in the dainty mirror.

A white bath towel wrapped tightly across your chest and draped over your thighs. An array of water droplets laid across your chest and shoulders from your previous morning shower.

As John was getting dressed in the next room for a meeting, you were doing your makeup for absolutely nothing.

Your days at home were rather boring. Usually consisting of binging your favorite shows, cooking, or reading.

Recently you had added tanning to the brief list now that it was finally warming up for summer. You enjoyed going out into the backyard and sitting by the pool, taking in the fresh air and a good book in hand. Your husband didn’t particularly like this new activity of yours.

Your eyes dropped down to the various makeup products scattered across the countertop. You grabbed ahold of your eyebrow brush, bringing up to your face and flicking the hairs up with the soft bristles.

“Y/N!” Your husband shouted from the bathroom, the sudden harshness of his voice had made you jump in your seat.

“Yes?” You huff, bringing your hand down away from your face and resting your elbow against the surface.

You straighten up your posture as you heard his footsteps press down into the carpet, making their way towards you in a rush. The bathroom light illuminated in the distance, giving his dark suited silhouette a slight golden hue as he stood in the doorframe frantically adjusted his collar.

“Have you seen my favorite tie?” He groaned in annoyance as if you had purposely hidden the piece of clothing in a form of pettiness.

“No, I haven’t.” You reply shortly before reverting your attention back towards the mirror.

You heard him grumble something under his breath before he started yanking at the dresser drawers in attempt to find another tie. But you chose to ignore his desperate plea for attention.

It was best to not even engage whenever he would get like this, so you completely tuned out his presence and continued your makeup routine. Once your were satisfied with your brows you went in for the primer.

Usually doing your makeup made you feel better about staying home and rotting away, but having his presence so close to you at the moment was spoiling everything. You couldn’t even enjoy yourself with your own husband around.

You couldn’t decipher if you felt more agitated or guilty in this moment. All you knew was that you just couldn’t wait for the very second he’d leave for his meeting and you’d finally have some time alone.

“Found it.” He mumbled, slowly dragging his feet along the carpet towards you. He stood over you as you moved on to the next step in your routine, concealer. He watched as you pressed the product into your cheeks. “You know I prefer you without all that, right?”

This was his lame attempt in striking up a conversation between the two of you. Most of the time they reign unsuccessful and resulted into a petty argument instead.

“I don’t do it for you.” You muttered under your breath, but your were certain he had heard you anyway. You didn’t care either way at this point, why wouldn’t he just leave you alone? Couldn’t he tell that you were upset?

John let out a sigh before recollecting his thoughts, you could hear the gears turning in his twisted head as he articulated what he should say next.

“Are you going to the pool again?” He asked, his tone hinted with just the slightest bit of irritation as he waited for your answer.

“Yeah?” You say, glancing up at him for a spilt second before dropping your eyes down to grab your bronzer. “Why does it matter? You’re out all day for hours at a time and I have nothing to do.”

“Because I don’t like that kid next door.” He snapped back.

“Matt?” You say innocently. The sound of the neighbor’s voice rolling off your tongue so smoothly had him sick to his stomach.

“Yes, Matt.” He retorted in a mocking tone. “I don’t fucking like him.”

“Well first of all, he’s a grown man, not a kid.” You huff out in annoyance. “And he’s just a friendly neighbor, he’s harmless.”

His eyes dropped down to your left hand before bringing them back up to your tired expression before muttering, “Right. Well, make sure to have your ring on while you’re out there.”

Your brows furrowed together and you straightened up in your seat. Your lips parted slightly to speak but he was already stomping down the steps and rushing to the front door.

“I was in the shower..” You mumbled in defeat as if he could still hear you. All while staring down at your bare ring finger.

*ೃ༄

It had been a couple hours since your husband had finally left and you were already starting to feel a lot better. The blazing June sun shone down brightly, giving the pool a shimmery look as a few waves began rippling.

You laid yourself across one of the white lounge chairs your had with a bikini on and one of your favorite books in hand. You had read it at least three times at this point but you just couldn’t get enough of it. Besides, what else were you left to do? At least you were getting some fresh air.

The pages had you lost in trance until the brash noise of a door slamming shut caught your attention. You straightened up your posture, looking over towards the right where the noise had derived from. Just over the brown, wooden fence that separated your yard from your neighbor’s.

The same neighbor that your husband absolutely despised. He had often complained that the fence wasn’t high enough and that he even caught Matt peering over at you while you tan.

The mere thought of that was flattering but you truly believed that everything he did was harmless. Matt never made you feel uncomfortable so you didn’t particularly mind his wandering eyes or suggestive words. Especially when you weren’t getting much attention from your husband anyway.

“Matt!” You shouted with a smile, wrapping your thin covering up over your chest slightly. You extended your arm out to wave at him, grinning ear to ear like a little school girl with a crush when he smiled back at you.

You tossed your book into the seat and slipped into your flip flops. Making your way through the grass to lean over the fence to get a better look at him.

Matt lived alone and it was quite obvious that his entire place lacked a woman’s touch. You often teased him about his backyard, as it was littered with various wild flowers and weeds. Not to mention the overgrown grass that he was in the process of cutting at the very moment.

“Hey, peach.” Matt smirked, rising up from the ground to get a better look at you.

You glanced down at his lawnmower, the old beaten up machine surely had seen better days.

“Finally mowing your grass?” You tease.

“Yeah.” He sighed with a playful shrug. “It looks like it’s about that time, what do you think?”

“Yeah, definitely long over due.” You laugh.

Your hands nervously fell to your side as Matt rested his forearms against the fence. Dirt covered gloves wrapped around his hands, along with a red tee and chain dangling over his chest. You nearly had to squint at the miniature silver horse as it shimmered in the bright sun. His shaggy brown hair spewed out from the sides where his red cap didn’t reach, the bill of it resting on the back of his neck.

His striking blue eyes flickered down to your figure, taking in the way your bikini left little to the imagination. Wrapping around so snuggly in all the right places.

You were fairly older than him— and married. Something that you would often say. But it felt as though you were trying to convince yourself of the fact rather than giving him a gentle reminder.

Personally, Matt wouldn’t give a fuck if you were married, engaged, or single. And he certainly didn’t mind the fact that you were a tad bit older. To him, age was just a number.

He knew exactly what he wanted and he was going to continue pursuing until he got it. You didn’t seem too opposed to this either. He wasn’t an idiot, he caught onto the way you’d blush whenever he was around or how you would find the silliest excuse to talk to him over the fence.

The attraction could be sniffed out from a mile away and he was certain that his feelings were mutual. He just had to pull them out of you. However, he didn’t want to overstep any boundaries. All he had to do was patiently wait for that green light.

But that didn’t completely stop him from dropping ‘subtle’ hints.

“What about you?” Matt nodded his head up with a smirk. “What are you gonna do today?”

“Oh, nothing probably.” You sigh, you could feel your face heating up with embarrassment.

“One of those days again?” He replied.

You nodded, “Mhm, John went out for another meeting this morning. So it’s just me at home.”

“I’m sorry, peach. I don’t like that he leaves you alone in that house for so long.” Matt replied, pursing his lips to think about what he should say next. Whether it was appropriate enough for him to say aloud, “You know I’d never do that to you, right?”

“Yeah, I know.” Is all you could mumble out. A shy smile creeping up on your face, earning a chuckle from him.

“How long is he gonna be out for?” He asked.

“He should be back sometime this evening. I’m not sure the exact time since his work schedule is so sporadic.” You explain, trying your best to play off the disappointment in your voice with a laugh.

Matt clicked his tongue in thought, knowing exactly what he desired most at the moment. Just the mere thought of you all alone in that house prancing around in that tight little swimsuit of yours—or better yet, nothing at all—had his dick pressing through the rough fabric of his jeans.

You had his mind racing with lascivious thoughts. However, it would be best if he didn’t voice these ideas, but you were just dying to know.

“What?” You inquired, slightly tilting your head to the side.

“Nothing, peach.” He laughed, dropping his head to hide his flushed cheeks. Matt has mentioned a bundle of scandalous things to you before— to which you always brushed off as if they never happened. However, his sudden meekness this time around had caught you off guard.

What was on his mind this time may have been the most outlandish thing of them all. He didn’t know how you would react, how you would handle such words. It was best to keep them to himself. The last thing he wanted was for you to feel upset or any discomfort from his own doing. He would never forgive himself.

But this didn’t stop you from still wanting to know what was on the brunette’s mind. He could only hope that a watered down version of what he originally wanted to say will suffice.

“I was just gonna suggest…” He began as he sheepishly rose his head back up. His primal gaze locking in with your shy eyes. “…that maybe you could come in with me.” He says pointing his thumb back towards his brick house behind him.

“Just so you won’t be so lonely.” He added in hopes to reel you in, watching you nervously shift on the heels of your feet.

Unfortunately, your mind and your heart were not on the same page, therefore the only correct answer would be, “I… don’t think I should.”

Matt couldn’t help but drop his eyes lower, seeing that your ring finger was still bare. He had noticed that you stopped wearing your wedding ring a couple weeks ago.

You always came up with the most outlandish excuses as to why you never wore the damn thing. Eventually he stopped pestering you about it, assuming that there was a deeper meaning why it was never around your finger. He didn’t want to force that information out of you, he could only hope that you’d tell him in your own time.

The way your smile slowly dropped from your face tugged at his heart, he didn’t like seeing you so upset about it. Maybe he should have articulated his words a bit more carefully.

“It’s okay, don’t beat yourself up about it.” Matt reassured you with a soft chuckle, “I gotta get this thing started, but you know where to find me if you change your mind.”

“Thanks, Matt.” You reply.

*ೃ༄

Hours passed since you last spoke to Matt— or anybody for that matter. The sun was beginning to set for the evening, the sky turning various colors of soft yellows and pastel pinks. The golden rays from the source shone through your livingroom window, giving your home’s interior a gentle glow.

You had changed into some more comfortable clothes earlier and were now snuggled down into the plush cushions of the couch with a large blanket draped over you.

The television was on but you weren’t paying it any attention. You tuned out the white noise of the characters speaking as your scrolled through the apps on your phone.

You hadn’t been able to get Matt’s words out of your head, “You know where to find me if you change your mind.”

A frustrated sigh seeped out from you. You knew that it was immoral of you to be thinking of another man under your circumstances but there was this longing for him that you just couldn’t shake.

Something about him was just so comforting… so alluring. You wanted to have deep and meaningful conversations with him rather than just brief, friendly talks over the fence.

You wanted to dissect his brain, to learn him inside and out. What he liked and disliked. What he does in his spare time. If he thinks about you as often as you think of him. You craved for his presence and you ached for his attention.

Your phone buzzed in your hands, pulling you out of your thoughts. You felt your stomach churn with dread as you realized it was your husband who had texted you instead of the person you needed the most.

John

‘I won’t be back until late tonight. Going out to dinner with coworkers.’ at 7:12 p.m.

You couldn’t even remember the last time you and John had been out to dinner together.

You weren’t sure if you should be feeling more angry or ecstatic over his message. This was the official green light that your heart had been waiting for since the day you met Matt.

But your brain was screaming the complete opposite. John was your husband and pursuing anything romantic or even sexual with Matt would be cheating. How would he handle that? How could you live with yourself after the fact?

Your thumbs hovered over the keyboard to reply to his message, until another notification buzzed at the top of the screen. Butterflies swarmed in your stomach when you noticed it was Matt who texted you.

Matt :)

‘Shameless, huh?’ at 7:14 p.m.

You look up from your screen, eyes now glued to your tv in front of you. His text referring to the show you were watching. You looked out the window over to your right, seeing that Matt was standing on the sidewalk just inches away from the grass in your front yard.

What perfect timing.

He was still wearing the same clothes as before, this time he wasn’t alone though. He had his dog, Trevor, with him. You smile as you point towards your front door, beckoning for him to come meet you at the porch. To which he happily complies.

The heavy door creaked open as you pulled it in towards yourself. A bashful smile crept on your face once you locked eyes with your neighbor, “Hi.”

“Hey,” He spoke, mirroring your happiness. “You changed your mind yet, peach?”

“Maybe.” You reply with a playful shrug. “But… I’d be more comfortable having you come in with me instead of the other way around.”

“What about John?” He asked, his brows furrowing together in confusion.

“He went out to dinner with some of his coworkers.” You explained. “He won’t be back until later tonight.”

“Okay, cool.” He smirked. His eyes flickered down to the ground where Trevor was, giving the leash attached to his collar a gentle tug. “Just let me put Trev back in the house and I’ll be right over.”

You nodded and watched them both step down from the steps of your porch before you shut the door.

*ೃ༄

“Do you drink by any chance?” You ask Matt, your sweet voice coursing through him as it echoed from the kitchen.

He sat perked up on the couch, his back straight up against the cushions and his thighs slightly parted from each other. His eyes shot over to you, your back faced him as you rummaged through your silver fridge.

“Anything you wanna do, I’m down.” He replied, you didn’t have to look at him to know that there was a cocky grin plastered across his face. You could hear it in his tone.

“Red wine then?” You reply, turning around as you waved the nearly full bottle of alcohol in your hand.

His smile only grew larger as he nodded in agreement, his cheeks flushing up to match the same rosy color as the beverage. Your feet shuffled across the floor as you reached up in your cabinet to grab hold of two empty wine glasses.

His eyes never left from you as you made your way back towards him on the couch. The cushions sank in deeper as you plopped down next to him, setting the glasses gently onto the low coffee table in front of you.

Matt grabbed the bottle of wine from your hand, twisting off the tight cap with ease. It was a simple gesture really and you mentally cursed yourself for getting so worked up by it, but you found it endearing.

“Excited, huh?” He joked, feeling your aura practically bouncing off of you as you watched the red liquid pour into the shape of the cup.

“Just happy.” You say, catching a glimpse into his sensual gaze before shyly looking away.

There was no way in hell that you expected Matt to keep his lecherous thoughts and curious hands to himself tonight, especially with alcohol now being thrown into the mix.

It was going to be torturous for him to stay on his best behavior.

*ೃ༄

About half an hour had passed and the two of you nearly drank the entire bottle, both of you now having nearly two full glasses of wine in your systems.

Matt quickly learned that you became a little giggle box the moment you started feeling a bit tipsy. He thought it was the cutest thing and made it a point to continue speaking so that he could hear your voice over and over again.

You sat up on the couch with your knees up to your chest, your fingers still slipped underneath the roundness of the glass. Matt had called it quits just a few minutes ago, his empty cup now sitting on the coffee table.

He could give a fuck less about the alcohol anymore, all he wanted now was a taste of you. He slumped down into the couch, much more relaxed now that the wine soaked its way through his system.

His hair was a fluffy mess now that his hat was finally off. He stared at you intensely with lazy, hooded eyes, grinning ear to ear seeing that you were so happy with just his presence.

“Okay, my turn.” You hiccup, finally setting your cup down for the first time tonight.

“Shoot.” He replies nonchalantly.

You adjusted your seating to where you were little bit closer to him this time. Your legs folding together as you place your jittery hands in your lap, “Why do you call me peach?”

“Uhh.” He huffed out with a bashful smile, his palms coming up to his face as if to rub away the embarrassment he felt. “It’s a long story.”

“I got plenty of time.” You reply, playfully tapping his shoulder. “C’mon, tell me.”

“Remember when we first met last year?” Matt asks, finally drawing his hands away from his face to look you in the eyes again. You nod. “Well, I remember you were in your backyard and you were taking care of your garden. …

…I was like, ‘damn, that lady has a ton of plants’, but I was just so intrigued by you. I couldn’t take my eyes off you. …

…Anyway, you didn’t notice me looking your way until you started watering your little peach tree. You looked up at me and smiled, then you started talking my ear off about peaches. Now every time I see one, I think of you. So I just started calling you that.”

Your heart fluttered in your chest at his words, you never realized that there was a deeper meaning behind the little pet name all this time. You had actually assumed it was for another reason entirely.

“Ohh.” You say in realization, bringing your fingers up to to your flustered face. “I’m so embarrassed…”

“Because of what I said?” He asked, his brows knitting together.

“No.” You laugh. “I thought you called me that because of something else.”

“Why did you think I called you that?” He questioned, a curious smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

“Because of my butt.” You reply rather bluntly. “That’s why John got so upset when he found out that you were calling me that. He thought you were checking me out.”

“Firstly, John’s an idiot.” Matt slurred out, earning yet another giggle from you. “And second, yeah, I do.”

“Do what?” You ask, your brows furrowing together in slight confusion.

“Check you out.” Matt admitted with a shrug, “You have a nice ass. Nice and round, just like a peach.”

Although the alcohol was running its course through him, he was still in somewhat control of what slipped out of his mouth. The only difference was that his sober mind would have preferred to keep that last bit of information private, in fear of making you feel uncomfortable.

But, you had felt the exact opposite. You had found his slurred, drunken speech flattering. You nervously shifted your weight between the cushions, trying your best to contain this giddy feeling that bubbled up inside you.

Your eyes shot up to look at him as he cleared his throat, hoping that he didn’t accidentally step over any boundaries.

“My turn.” He finally spoke in a raspy voice, ready to change the subject.

“Okay.”

“Why don’t you ever wear your ring?” He asks.

“Well,” You began, drawing in a breath. “That’s another long story.”

“I’ve got time.” He grinned, mocking your previous tone, to which you sarcastically laugh.

“It’s about you, actually.” You reply, hoping that would drive him away from the conversation but it only intrigued him more.

“Now I gotta know, c’mon spit it out.” He chuckled.

“Alright, alright.” You giggled nervously, “We had gotten into a really heated argument a few weeks back…”

All of a sudden a heavy lump started to form in your throat and you could feel warm tears starting to prick their way through the corners of your eyes. No way, you were about to cry in front of Matt.

You raised your hand up to your face, quickly wiping away any forming tears before they had the chance to roll down your flushed cheeks. He took your shaky hand in his and gently started to stroke the top of your skin with his thumb. You took a deep inhale before telling him more.

“I won’t go too much into detail about it, but basically he told me… that I should stop talking to you… because it was obvious that you were just trying to use me.” You choked out, as memories of that night began rushing in.

You saw Matt’s brows furrow together, his face scrunching up in protest. His lips parted slightly to give you a response but he could tell that there was more and let you speak.

“He also said that even if you did… you know… you would regret it soon after because I’m older than you. And that you probably weren’t into that sort of thing.” You mumbled.

“That is the stupidest shit I’ve ever heard.” He blurted out.

“Which part?” You sniffled.

“All of it.” He replied. The cushions underneath the two of you shifted as Matt adjusted his weight between them. He sat up straight now, both of your hands resting in the gentle grasp of his much larger ones.

“Peach, you’re the most kind and generous woman I know, you make my day better whenever I see you. You’re beautiful inside and out, and I hate that you let him stomp all over you like that.” He continued, most of his words were a blur as they sloshed together.

You suppressed a laugh as you caught a whiff of the fruity alcoholic scent that still lingered on his breath, he was drunk as hell.

But you didn’t care, the way he held you close and how his eyes locked so intensely with yours made up for it. He was babbling on and on about how shitty of a husband John was, yet your focus was set right on his lips— the most taunting of pink. You couldn’t help but wonder how they would feel pressing tender kisses into your skin. You want to feel his lips on yours, you needed to know what that felt like.

However, you were soon pulled out of your sinful thoughts once you felt the warmth of his hands vanish. You watched him throw them up in disbelief as he continued on, “I wouldn’t even be surprised if… nevermind.”

“What?” You question, “Go on, say it.”

“Nothing, peach. Don’t worry about it.” He shrugged off, growing embarrassed as he realized just how carried away he had gotten.

“C’mon, Matt.” You whine, your palm falling on top of his thigh. The sudden contact had caught him off guard and you could feel the muscles in his leg tense up below you. His eyes shot up to your glassy ones, hoping that he wasn’t the only one who felt a burning desire brewing inside of him. “Please.”

You could feel him relax a bit once he drew in a sharp inhale, thinking of what exactly he should say next without coming across as too vulgar.

“Does he even..” Matt began, being sure to choose his words carefully. “Does he even please you? Like, really satisfy your needs?”

“Like… sexually?” You muttered, being sure to get the clarification out of the way to make sure that you weren’t misinterpreting his words.

“Yeah,” He replied, his speech started to slur again as he mumbled, “Since he wants to keep my name in his mouth. I’d show you that an old man can’t do your body like I can.”

Matt was rambling again. If he hadn’t stepped over any boundaries before then he most definitely has now. You pulled your palm away from him, resting both of your hands back down in your lap. Shit, he was sure he had fucked this up now.

“Sorry.. I’m just really drunk right now.” He groaned. “You don’t have to answer tha-”

“No.” You interrupt, catching him by surprise. “He doesn’t.”

“Are you serious?” He replied, his brows raising up in shock. You nodded, to which he laughs in disbelief, not even knowing what he should say next.

“You want me to show you?” Matt spoke, his suggestive words came tumbling out as if he had them stored in his mind the moment he walked through your front door.

“Show me what?” You ask, slightly confused by his offer.

“What real pleasure feels like.” He coaxed, “How good sex can feel when it’s with the right person.”

Butterflies fluttered all through your stomach and your mouth went dry, bringing your shy gaze up to his primal look. His eyes spoke for himself, you could feel the desire radiating off of him and the feeling was overwhelmingly mutual.

Your fingers wrapped around his arm as you shifted over, as if there was some magnetic pull that tempted you to get even closer to Matt. Your eyes flickered down to his lips, the tips of your noses grazing against each other’s ever so slightly.

You brought your stare back up to his, feeling tingles trickle down your spine before whispering, “My age doesn’t bother you? You really don’t mind that you’re younger?”

“Of course not.” He coaxed. “I’m a young man, but my dick’s grown up.”

“Yeah?” You reply, inching your lips dangerously close to his. He nodded, “Then prove it.”

The elastic band of the arising sexual tension had finally snapped the moment he smashed his lips into yours. Wasting no time at all as he kissed away at you as if you were to slip away from his hands.

But you wouldn’t dare, you hadn’t felt this eagerness—such passion—from a man in what felt like ages. You were like a dry savanna awaiting for the smallest droplet of water.

You could feel the lust radiating from him as he made sure to show it in every action. That’s when you had finally realized just how long he has desired to have you in his grasp.

It was exhilarating.

You melted into his soothing touch, feeling safe and content in his arms. The soft pads of his fingertips slid up past the hem of your top, his warm palms resting right at the dips in your waist. He was testing the waters, seeing how far you would allow him to go. He’d be lying if he still wasn’t the slightest bit afraid of taking this “too far”.

But it was much too late for that now.

You craved Matt in all the ways imaginable.

One your hands dropped down lower, your delicate fingers grazing along the rough material of his jeans. You eased your palm down, pressing gently against his thigh. You could feel the muscles in his leg beginning to tense up once again.

You pulled a low groan from the brunette as your curious hand inched up closer and closer towards his groin—agonizingly slow.

By his body language and constant noises you could only assume that Matt wasn’t the type to enjoy being teased. But the way he squirmed underneath your touch had only encouraged you to want to do more.

You made sure to swallow each little plea that slipped out from him. Your palm now glued to the growing, aching erection in his pants.

There was nothing left to focus on, no distractions or obstacles standing in your way to keep the two of you apart. You had finally managed to have him all to yourself.

Matt was unbearably hard now. His fingers dug into your skin as he shamelessly started grinding himself against your hand. He knew without a doubt that if you kept this up, he’d have an embarrassing spill that he would never be able to live down.

Suddenly, the atmosphere in the living room grew stuffy and everything seemed to be moving in slow motion. Your bodies were ablaze and your clothes felt restricting against your flesh.

The warmth of his hands disappeared as they slipped out from underneath your shirt. His fingers came to the surface of your top, pinching at the soft fabric of the hem before finally pulling away from your luscious lips.

“Is this okay?” He whispers in a husky breath.

“Yes,” You reply with a huff, “Take it off, please.”

Your top was gone in an instant as Matt eagerly slipped it over your head and tossed it onto the plush rug lying on the floor. His lips curled up into a flustered grin, taken by surprise at the lacy, black bra that squeezed tightly around your breasts.

He would have never guessed that you were wearing such scandalous lingerie underneath your oversized tee. Now having the knowledge that you were wearing it during the entirety of the conversation had his dick twitching in his pants.

He couldn’t wait to get his hands on your baggy sweats to reveal the answer to his burning question: if you had matching panties on underneath.

“You wore this just for me, peach?” Matt whispered, leaving you shuddering as the warmth of his palms traveled up past your ribcage. The delicate material of the lace intertwined between his fingers as he cupped both your tits in his hands.

“I want to take my time with you,” He begins with a muttering tone. His dark strands of hair brushed against your chest as he brought himself down lower, “But you’re making it really hard for me… makes me want to tear your clothes right off.”

You whine at his lewd choice of words, combing your fingers through his scalp. You pulled your bottom lip behind your teeth as Matt pressed sloppy, tender kisses against the swelling tops of your breasts.

You squirmed with each kiss that he gave you, his lips sinking down into your warm, plush skin. He continued fondling them in his hands, being sure to stay a man of his word and take things slow.

Although there was a voice in the back of his mind that screeched at him to claw away at the rest of your clothes he chose to ignore it. You were special to him, he wanted to cherish and savor this moment. And he wanted to be sure that you were aware of that.

His glossy eyes flickered up at you, adoring your rosy cheeks and hooded gaze. He pulled yet another whine from you as he flattened his tongue against your chest, licking a stripe up from your exposed cleavage and stopping right at the most sensitive bit on the side of your neck.

He left a few hot, open-mouthed kisses along your throat before pulling away and giving your lips the same attention.

His large hands slithered back down to squeeze at your waist. This kiss was far more hungry, more desperate than before. A heated mess between slippery tongues and clashing teeth.

Even though you admired and appreciated him for taking things slow, you couldn’t take it anymore. There was a burning, itching desire brewing up inside of you that only Matt could satisfy.

Deep down you knew it was awful. You should be ashamed by the way you latched yourself onto your neighbor the moment after finding out that your husband wouldn’t be home. But being with Matt now just felt so right—and so terribly good.

Your hand dropped back down to his lap. Only this time, your hand went straight for his belt instead of the very obvious tent that protruded out from his pants.

Your brows furrowed together, letting out a strangled moan. Growing frustrated as your fingers unsuccessfully fumbled around with the silver buckle of his belt.

You could feel him smile against your lips, amused at how desperate you were to get him out of his pants. He finally pulled away from you, letting go of your hips and brought his hands down to meet yours.

The buckle clinked as he easily unlatched it, you watched as he yanked the leather belt through each tiny loop that was placed around the waist of his jeans.

You glanced down as it hit the floor, joining your shirt. It felt like Matt’s movements were excruciatingly slow, you began to wonder if he was doing it on purpose.

Your heart raced against your chest as he finally plucked the silver button out of the slit and slowly began sliding down the zipper—the satisfying noise ringing in your ears as he did so.

He tugged both layers of his clothes just low enough for his cock to spring out. Your eyes quickly fixated on him, widening at the sight.

He was much thicker than you had imagined, longer too. His tip matched the faint rosy hue that spread across his cheeks, twitching just the slightest as the cool air conditioning spewed throughout the room.

You shift nervously against the couch, your breath hitching in your throat as you notice the thick vein that ran along the side of him.

Matt’s eyes flickered up to your meek expression, chuckling lightly as he spoke, “Getting shy on me now?”

Before your lips could part to give him a proper response, his fingers wrapped around your wrist, slowly guiding your hand down to his dick. A low groan seeped out from him as he felt your delicate touch wrap around him so sweetly.

“It’s not that..” You finally reply, running your hand up his length with a weak, timid fist.

“What is it then?” Matt asked, meeting your eyes.

“You’re just…” You began to say, only to quickly avert your eyes away from him, “…much bigger than what I thought you were.”

“What you thought or what you’re used to?” Matt teased. A flustered expression took over your face as you squeezed around his base at his snarky remark towards your husband. “Sorry, sorry.” He joked.

You loosened your grip around him, bringing your eyes over to his. The same smile still spread from ear to ear, “Mhm. I suppose you were right about what you said earlier, then.”

Your sweet, buttery tone ran all throughout his nerves. You could feel his muscles loosening, finally allowing himself to melt into your touch as you slowly started pumping him. Only for you bring your movements to a halt just mere seconds later.

He watched you with lazy eyes as your knees spread apart, getting into a more comfortable position before lowering your head down towards his lap. Your lips now dangerously close to his aching tip.

You could feel your ears growing hot as Matt never took his stare away from you. Although the view wasn’t all that he imagined it would be, since the majority of your hair swept right in front of what he wished to see the most—your face.

He let out a low huff, bringing his shaky hand down towards your head. His thick fingers looped underneath your dangling strands of hair and gently brushed them out of the way by tucking it behind your ear. You glanced up at him with doe-like eyes and flushed cheeks as you spat out a generous amount of saliva onto his tip.

His nose scrunched up and his nostrils flared out, watching your eyes drop back down to what was in front of you. Clear, tiny bubbles trickled down his member, pooling up around his base. Your hand still slowly pumping him like before, making sure to get him nice and saturated before finally taking him into your mouth.

“Fuck.” Matt cursed under his breath, sinking down into the soft cushions.

His brows knitted together as his teeth drew back on his bottom lip, watching as you took him in as deep as you could. You could feel him tense up below you as he felt your tongue slither against him, slowly bobbing your head up and down. Your lips wrapped around him so perfectly and the warmth of your mouth had his fingers clawing into the armrest of the couch.

“So pretty, baby, so fucking pretty.” He mumbles in a drunken slur, his sugary words encouraging you to slightly quicken your movements.

Your back arched at the slightest, the imprint of your spine dipping down as your ass hiked up in the air. Your eyes fluttered closed, palming the rest of him that you couldn’t fit down your throat.

Matt could feel his pulse pounding into his ears, taken away by all the pleasure. Goosebumps raised up from your skin, feeling his fingertips stroke their way up and down you back in an almost loving manner.

It took everything in him to not thrust himself up into your mouth, desperate to know what it would sound and look like for you to gag around his cock.

But if he were being honest with himself, there was no way he was going to be able to last a second longer with the way you were moving.

His heavy breathing becoming more rapid and his noises came tumbling out. You could feel his veins throbbing against your tongue as you continued—he was awfully close.

“Shit… h-hold on..” Matt whined, the hand that was once on your back now tugging you up by the hair, gently pulling your mouth away.

You peered up at him with glossy eyes, a thin trail of saliva connecting your swollen lips down towards his dick.

“What’s wrong?” You mumbled timidly, wiping away the drool from your mouth with the back of your hand, “Should we stop?”

“God no,” Matt huffed out with a smirk, “I was just wondering if you would be more comfortable on the bed instead?”

“Oh,” You reply, sitting up straight now. You pondered his offer for a moment before agreeing with a nod.

“Yeah?” Matt whispers, a grin starting to grow on his face to which you nod again with a smile of your own. His fingers dug into the couch, looping under you as he lifted you up with ease and carried you towards the bedroom.

*ೃ༄

“Fuck, Matt..” You whine, “..don’t stop.”

Both of your clothes were scattered along the floor in a matter of seconds, not even bothering to shut the bedroom door in the process.

The soft amber light from the lamp gave your nude bodies a golden, angelic-like hue as you were both entangled between your silky bedsheets.

Matt’s large hands were wrapped around both of your thighs, spreading them apart so that his face nestled right where you had craved him the most. His tongue moved in a sensual rhythm, sucking and swirling against your swollen clit.

The alcohol still lingering in his system gave him the courage to peer up at you, his primal stare admiring your flustered face that was twisted up in pleasure. A sense of pride washed over him, feeling proud of himself—and rather cocky—knowing that he was able to make you feel this good while you husband was out doing god knows what.

Your trembling hands made their way towards him, nestling your fingers into his dark, wavy strands. He finally dropped his intimidating gaze, groaning against your core as you tugged away at his hair.

Various moans and cries fell from your lips. Your grip against his scalp subtly grew tighter, but he didn’t mind, in fact it only turned him on more. Your entire body squirmed in his hands, back arching up from the mattress as the elastic band in your stomach threatened to snap at any moment.

Your legs began trembling and your toes curled in against your soles. Your voice now much higher than it was before as you warned him of your arising orgasm.

It wasn’t long before you had released into his mouth, his rough stubble brushing against your inner thighs as they squeezed around his face. Leaving Matt’s cheeks a faint flushed pink, his ears grew hotter by the second as he peered up at you again.

Once you had caught your breath, your legs weakly fell open, allowing him enough space to stay between them as he crawled up towards you. His hands rested on either side of your face as he pressed a few lazy kisses against your lips. You whimpered against him when you felt his tip accidentally brush against your slick folds.

He caught onto your whiny hint, chuckling slightly as his dominate hand slid down between your bodies. His thick fingers wrapped around the base, aligning himself with your entrance before slowly pushing himself inside of you.

Your brows furrowed together as he wrapped his arms around you. A spew of broken moans slipped out from you as he began slowly thrusting into you. Your palms flattened against his back as he nestled his face into the crook of your neck, pressing even more kisses down your throat.

His low groans and soft whines filled your ears as kept the same sensual pace. Your thighs shook with each movement he made before you finally decided to wrap your legs around his waist.

The combination between that subtle action and the sweet sound of your voice ringing in his ears was slowly becoming too much for him to bare. His orgasm already creeping up on him.

He picked up the pace of his thrusts, now lazily ramming his hips down into yours at a sloppy speed. His forehead pressed against yours as his eyes locked into your glossy ones.

He smirked knowing that he was the cause of you feeling this way, that he could fuck you better than your own pathetic husband.

“You’re squeezing around so me so tight, baby. Gonna cum for me already?” Matt breathed out cockily through his quick movements, your nails clawing down his back.

He watched as you struggled to form a coherent sentence before dropping his hand down lower. The pad of his thumb pressing against your puffy clit as he cooed, “I know, c’mon and let it out sweet girl.. you’ve earned it.”

“Oh, Matt.. fuck!” You cried out shortly after, your back arching from the bed. You trembled beneath him as you came for the second time tonight.

Your legs remained low around his waist, assisting him with his messy, drunken movements. His lips pressed down into yours, wasting no time to slip his tongue past your swollen lips.

Your nails dug into his back and your eyes fluttered closed as you felt his warm cum gushing out and spilling into you. Your legs tightened around his waist, gently pushing him further into your core, filling you up to the brim with his seed.

📃 — taglist!

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stranger-awakening · 2 years

Text

hannah’s asleep so i can make this post without them noticing. it’s their birthday at the end of the month and i’m pulling out all the stops for it. just going absolutely mental and rabid and whole time just hoping it’s enough and good enough for literally the best person in my life because it needs to be

#i'm writing them something because that's kind of our tradition #and im so hyper aware of the word count which isn't unusual for me i always am but i genuinely don't know how long this piece is gonna be #i'm hoping to get it in the 2-3k range #hopefully it's not the only thing im giving them im like a little worker bee #just chipping away at my little writing doing the most for my bestie you know how it is #and its so hard not to send them sneak peaks and lines and stuff but i do have to keep this all a secret #because its a surprise i mean i think they have an idea of what im working on but they don't know details and im trying to keep it that way #anyways i love gift giving i really do fgskfhd #jess rants about life

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forever-rogue · 1 year

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Hi darling 🥰 I love, absolutely love the way you write Eddie and I have an idea for a fic! Maybe reader is Eddie's best friend forever (she has the same style, taste in music, also plays D&D, has tattoos, colorful hair) she is also in love with Eddie, but for some reason she thinks Eddie is attracted to cheerleaders and would never pay attention to her sooo she gets quiet and closed off, she's hurt and sad, she feels not enough but our dear boy finally gets the truth out of her and shows her his love, that she's the only one who really matters to him 🥹 If you are ok with it they have romantic sex but no pressure! Love ya!

AN | Friends to lovers! Fools in love! Requited pining 🥺🥰

Warnings | Language

Pairing | Eddie x Fem!Reader

Word Count | 3k

Masterlist | Main, Eddie

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

He had a pretty smile. A really fuckin’ pretty smile.

It had been one of the first things you’d noticed about him when you met him as an awkward pre-teen. Now it was one of your favorite things about him. Among everything else, but you know, that wasn’t important. Sure, you were in love with Eddie Munson, also known as your best friend, but that was beside the point. Well…maybe it was the whole point.

But none of that mattered. Because while you were in love with your dorky, funny, and hot best friend, nothing was ever going to change. While you were like him in so many ways, and people always presumed the two of you were dating (to which Eddie liked to remind people that you were platonic with a capital p), you were absolutely not his type. God, it's brutal out here.

No, his type was soft, ultra feminine, pastel pretty girls, bonus points if they were cheerleaders. If you had to sum it down to a singular person, Chrissy Cunningham fit the bill. And, honestly, you couldn’t even blame him. Not only was she pretty, smart, and funny, she was also kind. She’d never had so much as a singular rude thing to say and that made you want to hate her even more. Eddie was infatuated with her and all you were was his best friend. And it fucking sucked.

No matter how hard you tried to get over him, by hooking up with other people, trying to expand your interests to include other people, and even - for just a horrible moment - you’d tried to change yourself to be more his type, it never worked. Your thoughts, feelings - your heart - always went back to him.

Eventually you’d had enough and decided that it was time to make a change. Even though you knew it would break your heart, you decided that this was the only way you’d ever get over him.

You had to create a divide, to set a distance and boundaries between the two of you. It was going to hurt at first, but that would pass, hopefully, one day and perhaps you’d both be better.

That was the plan in your head anyway…too bad life decided not to play by your little plan.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Hey sweetheart,” ugh. Your heart cracked at the sound of the sweet pet name he’d always called you. Normally you liked it…normally when you weren’t trying to avoid him. He slid into the seat next to you, elbow on the table as he rested his chin in his hand. You could feel him staring at you before he reached over and delicately twisted a lock of your hair around his pinky, “new color. I like purple, it looks pretty.”

“T-thanks,” you swallowed thickly before staring down at your tray, your appetite slowly disappearing, “did you need something?”

“Umm duh,” he teased, “it’s Friday night, aka movie night, and I am making sure you remember since you’ve been avoiding me like the plague. Which I won’t take personally, unless it continues on.”

“Oh,” you hadn’t forgotten movie night. It had been a tradition for the last five years, but you couldn’t bring yourself to face a night alone with him. You drummed your fingers along the table, “I-I can’t tonight. Sorry, Eddie, I…forgot.”

“You forgot movie night?” his entire face fell and as you shrugged your shoulders and nodded slightly, “but we always…have movie night. How-”

“Look, I’m sorry,” you allowed yourself one little look at the boy before feeling your heart drop. You’d never seen such a sad look on his face before. You grabbed your bag before standing up, “I just forgot, I’m sorry. I…I’ll see you around.”

You were off and out of the cafeteria before he could say anything. You left him sitting there, staring after you with a heartbroken expression. You’d never forgotten, you’d never turned him down before. Not until today anyway.

Eddie decided that he wouldn’t think too much of it. It was only the first time and maybe you really did have something else pressing to do. He wasn’t going to freak out yet; he was sure things would be back to normal order shortly.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Except Eddie was wrong. Very wrong.

Not only you had feigned that you’d forgotten movie night, you soon seemed to forget every plan and usual things done with Eddie. Whenever you saw him, you ducked around a corner or walked the other, or hid in the girls’ bathroom. You never answered the phone when he called your house, and never appeared to be home when he stopped by - which he knew was a lie.

You’d gone from being thick as thieves to slowly drifting apart, and Eddie was scared that he was going to lose you forever. Maybe it was dramatic, but he couldn’t imagine a life without you in it….he’d even wager to say it wasn’t worth living. Call him dramatic, which you only did, but he wasn’t just going to accept you walking out of his life without some sort of answer.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

It was another afternoon of suffering through the mundane classes at Hawkins High. At least lunch afforded you some to go outside, to breathe and get some fresh air. You were sitting at a small table by yourself, sketchbook open and pencil in hand, but yourself found yourself lacking inspiration. It wasn’t until you looked up and stared off into the distance that you noticed Eddie. A small sigh escaped your lips as you watched him stalk off into his secluded little spot behind the school…with Chrissy in tow.

The two of them were laughing about something, and that just served to make your blood boil. Why would Eddie even need you when he had pretty, perfect little Chrissy at his beck and call? He wouldn’t….he wouldn’t need you anymore.

You slammed the sketchbook shut, but not before looking down at what you had mindlessly created. Of course. It was a quick sketch of Eddie, something you’d done a million times before, but today it just served to make the bile rise in your throat.

This was harder than you ever dreamed it would be. You missed him…you really fucking missed him.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You almost jumped when the chair across from you was pulled out. It was a quiet afternoon in the library, and you’d been the only one working in there…until now. You looked up and frowned when you realized it was Eddie. He gave you a small smile before slipping into the seat, “hey.”

“I’m studying,” you pointed to your books as if it wasn’t obvious enough, “do you mind?”

“Are you coming to Hellfire tonight?” you’d skipped out on the last couple of meetings, feeding one of the younger boys some excuse as to why you weren’t able to make it. It seemed to placate them well enough, but Eddie wasn’t buying it. You sighed lightly before shaking your head.

“I can’t,” you lied, “I’ve got this big test I’m studying for, I just don’t have the time.”

“Funny,” he mused thoughtfully, “that’s exactly what you told Dustin last time.”

“I have multiple classes and different tests,” you hissed, “besides, they’re AP classes, which require more work than the same basic pre-calc class you’re taking for the third time.”

And oh. That was a shitty low blow and you both knew it. You hated how it sounded as soon the words left your mouth. You didn’t mean any of it - you were just angry and wanted him to leave you alone and figured that might work. But Eddie, steadfast and sweet Eddie, wasn’t moved.

“This will be the third meeting in a row you’ve missed,” he whispered, “you know the rules - three missed meetings and you’re out. And rules are rules, even when it’s you.”

“Fine,” you grabbed your books and shoved them into your book bag, “kick me out then, that’s fine. I’ll live.”

Okay, there was absolutely something going on that you weren’t letting on about. Eddie knew you better than that; you’d never just miss Hellfire for no reason and just not care about being kicked out. That was absolutely not you.

“Wait -”

“No,” you hissed through gritted teeth and stalked out of the library. But Eddie wasn’t made. If anything, he was more determined to figure out what was going on.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

It was late but you weren’t sleeping just yet. You couldn’t - your mind was way too loud and incessant for that. Truthfully you hadn't slept well in weeks, but you’d adapted to living under a cloud of tiredness.

It was the loud tapping at your window that snapped you wide away as you looked up from where your head bent down and stared at a textbook. You had no clue what the noise was, and wondered if you should ignore the sound. But then it came again and you knew that it wouldn’t stop until you examined what was going on.

“You open the window, or I’ll do it myself,” the voice from outside reached your ears and you quickly pulled the curtains back. There was Eddie Munson, perched on the roof outside your window, ready to open the window himself.

“Eddie,” you decided to take mercy on him and opened it so he could come inside. He landed without any grace on your floor, almost tripped over his own feet, “it’s past midnight! What are you doing here?”

“I’m here to see you,” he insisted and you sighed as you sat down on your bed, shaking your head at him. He dropped to his knees in front of you and reached for your hand, which you just pulled away, “what is going on, sweetheart? And don’t lie to me and say it’s nothing. You’ve been avoiding me for weeks, and we both know it. I just want to know what I did, so I can fix it, I want to make things better. Please, let me fix it.”

“Eddie,” tears had already pearled up and run down your cheeks. Of course he wanted to make things better, he was still willing to try despite how terrible you’d been to him, “I-I don’t think you can fix it.”

“You don’t know that,” he insisted meekly, “you just have to tell me what it is.”

“It’s you,” you breathed and watched as his face turned into a look of confusion, “you’re the problem. And there’s no way to fix this, not anymore.”

“I’m the problem?” he looked so taken aback, so hurt. He had no clue what he could have done to hurt you or upset you, at least not knowingly. He’d never hurt you; he’d take the pain and brunt a million times over before letting you get hurt, “what do you mean? W-what did I do?”

You wiped at your cheeks with the back of your hand and shook your head before exhaling shakily. You’d already made a fool out of yourself, might as well get it all out there in the open, “I’m in love with you.”

A heavy, thick silence fell over the two of you as he watched you closely and you just sniffled and looked anywhere but at him. He spoke up when he couldn't stand it anymore, “what’s so bad about that?”

“Eddie,” you turned back to him and noticed he had the softest and most gentle of smiles on his face. That just confused you more, “I can’t be your best friend and be so in love with you and watch you fawn over girls and date them and eventually…forget about me.”

“Wait, I’m confused…what do you mean other girls?”

“Pretty girls, the ones that you like, like Chrissy,” you shrugged and tried to act like your heart wasn’t completely broken, “I saw you with her.”

“I don’t…I don’t like Chrissy,” he confessed as your brows knitted in confusion, “she’s nice and I was with her, to sell her some stuff for a party, and another time for some advice.”

“Everyone likes her…” you shrugged lightly, “you can tell me the truth, that you’re into her and all those other pretty cheerleaders. Besides, what advice could you possibly get from her? It’s fine if you’re into her, Eddie, it just…I don’t think I can be your friend and have to see you with her all the time. Maybe that’s really selfish, but it’s true.”

“Stop, please - just listen to me for a moment. I was asking her about you,” he professed and you looked to find his eyes searching you. Your mouth opened and closed a few times and Eddie took advantage to brush a few rogue locks of hair out of your face, “because you’d been avoiding me and acting like you hate me. I was asking her what I could do to get you to talk to me again.”

“Oh…a-and what did she say?”

“She told me to be honest with you,” it was his turn to breathe shakily, his eyes soft but nervous, “to get it all out there and tell you that I’m in love with you.”

Your eyes snapped to his, positive you hadn’t heard him correctly. There was no way that he said what you had been so desperately wanting to hear for years. This had to be you trying to manifest your dream into reality. He laughed nervously when you didn’t say anything, scratching at the back of his neck awkwardly.

“What did you say?” your voice was so soft and small as you looked at him nervously, “Eddie?”

“I said I was in love with you,” he plopped onto the floor, sitting in front of you as he waited for you to say something - anything.

“Do you mean it?”

“Yes,” he promised, “of course I do. I’d never lie to you. I…I thought you knew, I thought it was so obvious. And then when you started pushing me away, I got scared. I thought I was going to lose you forever.”

You slid off the bed and flopped onto the floor so you were sitting across from him, your leg resting against yours. You swallowed the lump in your throat before leaning in to him, “I thought I was going to lose you forever too.”

He exhaled through his nose sharply, making a small sound of amusement before looking at you intensely, “so…where does that leave us? If you still don’t want anything to do with me, I can leave. Whatever you’d want, I respect.”

Your silence almost killed him as you seemed to be mulling over something. Every moment seemed to take an eternity as he waited for you to speak. He was braced and ready to leave, figuring you really were done with him.

But then, suddenly and surprising the both of you, you leaned in and kissed him. It wasn’t even a proper kiss, more of a brush of lips, saccharine and shy. You sat back down, your entire face and body flushing with warmth as you looked at him nervously. You found the biggest and most lovesick smile on his face as his bambi eyes softened.

He reached for you, his hands settling on your waist before he pulled you into his lap. You gasped in surprise at the suddenness of his action, finding yourself face to face with him. He settled a hand on your face, tenderly brushing his thumb over the apple of your cheek. You couldn’t stop yourself from leaning into his touch, sighing softly as the feel of his soft palm and calloused fingertips.

He leaned in and you couldn't help but wonder what was coming next. Was he going to kiss you and then call it a day? Was he just going to leave? Was he-

Eddie quickly answered your question by kissing you, his hand going from your cheek to tenderly cup your neck. You leaned into his touch and let him take the lead. He didn't stop kissing you until you were dizzied and drunk off his touch. You imagined this so many times, and so many ways, but nothing compared to the real thing.

"I love you," he gently cradled your face in his hands and it felt like he was looking into the depths of your being, into your soul. You wrapped your hands around his wrists and blinked back your tears, “I mean it, sweetheart. It’s always been you. And I’m sorry that I ever did anything to make you like it wasn’t you.”

“It’s been you too,” you whispered softly, causing his cheeks to flush a pretty shade of pink, “always you, Eddie.”

“Fuck,” he sighed softly before kissing you again, “I’ve been waiting so long to hear you say that, sweetheart. You’ve been my dream girl since we met, you know.”

“That’s a strong way of putting it…” you wanted to hide your warm face, but he wouldn’t let you. He shook his head softly, clearly disagreeing with you.

“But it’s true,” he insisted softly, “can I kiss you again?”

“I don’t ever want you to stop,” you confessed sweetly, causing his heart to practically melt, “I want everything with you, Eddie.”

“Everything?”

“Everything,” you promised, taking advantage of his momentary shock to kiss him again. You could feel him smiling against your lips before he kissed along your jaw and down your neck, biting at the delicate skin to leave behind a haze of pretty lavender bruises. You already felt like you’d died and gone to heaven, “Eddie.”

“Can I make love to you?”

“Yes,” you pulled back to your lips and kissed him gently, “please.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie muson x fem!reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson one shot #joseph quinn #joseph quinn x you #joseph quinn x reader #st

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frantic-fiction · 4 months

Text

Happy Birthday

(Gif: Alistairs)

Prompt: The gang throwing Spawn Astarion and Redeemed Durge a joint birthday party 😭

Credit to @bauldersgrave69 for letting me use their idea. Hopefully, you like it.

Astarion x F!Reader (Mostly Gender neutral but reader does wear a dress)

Warning: None. No spoilers just durge's memory lost and violent tendencies. This is pretty much pure fluff.

Word Count: 3.1k

It's been almost a year since you found yourself aboard a mindflayer ship, forcibly shoved into an adventure - one with life-changing choices. Choices that left you with a family not bonded through blood and torture, but one of trust, acceptance, and a chance to change something in yourself that you didn't fully comprehend when you woke up in that pod.

And the most important piece of the puzzle is currently walking next to you. As close as appropriate in public, moving away from the waterfront, Astarion would occasionally drop kisses on any exposed skin he could reach. But for the most part, he was content to hold your hand in his, just happy to be with the love of his life.

It was your date night. After the chaos had died down, you and Astarion had established this weekly tradition. Neither of your previous lives before the tadpoles allowed for much personal exploration or relaxation. The dates aimed to help take back both the agencies that had been torn away violently by cruel masters.

It was Astarion's week to choose the activity. He decided to push his boundaries just a bit and go dancing - not the stifling ballroom dances Cazador demanded be performed during various public events. No, Astarion wanted liveliness, drinks, and a wonderful band.

So, he bought a lovely pale yellow sundress from a stall by your apartment and added his personal style, ending with a beautiful garment - swirls and intricate patterns embroidered as accents. Donning himself in a dashing doublet, dark greys, and black accented with a similar shade of yellow.

The blushing mermaid was brilliant, the band jovial with pounding drums, and excellent lute and violin playing. Drinks were shared until heads were fuzzy. It took a bit for Astarion to work up the courage to dance, but he quickly offered his hand. The moment it was offered, your drink was down, and with a flushed face and a smile, you took his hand and pulled him to the dance floor.

The rest of the night was spent spinning and dipping until you were dizzy. You had never really danced, and if you had, that memory was lost and not worth finding. At times, you would stumble into a spin or out of a dip, but Astarion was always there to make sure you stayed on your toes with a firm hold.

When the energy of the night waned down and the band began to play a slower tempo, Astarion didn't hesitate to pull you flush against his body. His coolness was a pleasant contrast to the stuffiness of the mostly crowded tavern.

Astarion bent down to kiss you below your ear, whispering, "I don't think I will ever run out of thank yous."

"For dancing with a handsome man, I can say it was tiring but I'm having fun." The word is still a foreign concept, but one you and Astarion have become incredibly good at together.

"Yes, this night has been the best dancing I've done in years." You card your hand through his curls; his hand trails the curve of your spine. "But my thanks go beyond tonight, with you, my love. I have felt - you see I..."

Words seem not to be able to grasp what Astarion wants to say. So, he simply smiles and captures your lips in a kiss. Not everything needs words to express.

****

"My sweet, I believe we forgot dear Evelyn's oranges."

You had just entered the neighborhood where your house resided. It wasn't anything big; neither you nor Astarion liked the idea of a big space with rooms that would stay empty and cold.

Thankfully, you came across Miss Evelyn, a sweet elderly gnome who owned a multifamily home. Her son had sadly died when the Absolute took Baldur's Gate. His wife and child went back to her parents, leaving Evelyn with a lot more space than she needed.

Astarion and you rented the upper portion of the home. The rent was cheap and you wish to pay more, and when you tried to explain just how much wealth you could spare, Evelyn shut it down immediately. She said that her price was fair and all she needed to make it for herself.

There was no room to argue after that, so you and Astarion took it upon yourselves to help her in any way she would allow - like getting oranges.

"I'll run out early before she wakes. Eve won't even notice."

"If you try to throw me on the chopping block again, I will not be making any cookies for a month."

"You would never!" You gasped, clutching your chest in dramatics.

"Don't tempt me, darling; I can be very stubborn." He said this, holding the gate to the property for you.

"Star, you know how her disappointed look makes me feel," the gravel crunched under your feet, the porch light to the house breaking through the dark.

"Yes, well, you'll just have to hope she made her bedtime." He kissed your cheek smugly and walked ahead, taking the stairs two at a time.

His shoes hit the wood boards of the porch when you heard, "Oh good evening Evelyn dear, I do have to apologize; my love completely forgot to get you oranges. By the time I realized their mistake, the vendor was already gone for the evening."

Handsome fucking asshole. Hands bunched up the skirt as you followed up the steps. He is going to have quite the time having any post-date fun with the way he's playing.

Making it to his side, Evelyn's in her chair, a basket of walnuts beside her. She didn't say anything for a moment, leaving only the crickets. Grabbing a walnut, she placed it on the table and slammed a hammer you did not see, cracking the shell before popping the flesh into her mouth.

"I figured, you two never get the things I want when it's your date night. Whatever, just get them tomorrow; your visitors gave me these walnuts so I'm not too bothered." The words were jumbled between almost toothless gums and walnut bits. A few pieces flew outwards with trails of spittle.

"Visitors?"

"Yeah, that little ragtag group you got. The bald one gave them to me. Told me something about 'Boo' thinking it would be polite since I let them break in and all."

Astarion and you met eyes, confusion reflecting each other's. Why was Minsc here?

"Did you plan something?" You asked.

"No," Astarion quickly turned to Evelyn, " I hope our little friends haven't been too much of a bother. Have a wonderful evening, my dear. Your oranges will be in your fruit bowl come morning."

He grabbed your hand and made for the stairs to your floor. Evelyn simply grumbled "They better be, pointy," before slamming the hammer down again.

You started to pull Astarion faster up the remaining stairs. But as soon as you reached for the door, Astarion halted you with an arm snaking around your middle. His mouth captured yours in a kiss, fast and heavy before you could even speak.

You melted. It's automatic, instinctual. You sigh carding you finger in his hair tugging on the roots. The orange incident quickly forgotten and the heavy annoyances with it. Not even the question of why your friends have broken into your home during date night mattered. His lips were gone too soon.

"I don't know about you, my sweet, but I believe our little weirdos have been very rude to us." He breathed into your ear before giving it a nibble. You nodded slightly, pulling his face to your neck. The he scrapes his fangs against you throat and you gasped

"I think they should have learned by now that I like to keep you to myself at night. And on our lovely date night, where you have been teasing me all night with this garment."

He pressed your back roughly against the door. The hinges whined against the force. You kiss him again, feeling his leg press between your legs. "And how am I to know that I shouldn't be ravishing you right here against this door."

"OKAY, OKAY. WE GET IT, ARESHOLE. DON'T INTERRUPT DATE NIGHT," Gale yelled.

"Maybe the next time we think about doing something nice for you two shits, I'll remember to bring earplugs," Wyll followed.

Astarion stepped you both back fully on your feet. "Maybe this time they will finally learn." Placing one last soft kiss on you cheek, he fully pulled away and moved to open the door.

You couldn't say what you had expected to see walking into your home. But this was not it.

Bright colors of balloons cluttering the floors, strings of paper tossed haphazardly around your living room. Your dining table is scatered with wrapped gifts and a frosted cake.

Each of your companions stood, all staring at Astarion and you, a mixture of disgust, excitement, and boredom (though that was mainly Lae'zel, who stood brooding in the farthest corner with a purple cone on her head). Oddly, they all had pointy hats tied to their heads. Even little Boo.

Scratch, who with all the excitement of seeing all of his friends back at his home, had begun to use his as a chew toy. Minsc pleaded with him to stop and seemed to be having a three-way conversation between the dog, Boo, and himself.

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY!" Karlach screamed as if the words had been burning in her mouth for hours. This had each and every one of your companions repeating the same phrase.

The shocked and confused looks Astarion and you shared must be very evident because Wyll was quick to jump in. “You both shared with us not knowing when your birthday was, so we’ve all decided what better time to celebrate than the start of our journey.”

This had Astarion's hand tightening in yours, his posture stiffening. Your heart hammered against your ribs, tears brimming over, trickling down flushed cheeks.

You don’t deserve this. The little voice echoes, the same voice that chokes you at night when you lay crying in Astarion's arms as he helps you calm from a panic attack. These people. This beautiful, caring family you stumbled upon was too good for such a broken, tainted person like you. To even think about this, planning a party with cake and presents simply to celebrate you and Astarion just living another year.

Him you understand; you had already been silently planning something similar for him for months. But it’s Astarion. The man who saved you, the one who reminds you each day that you are loved and safe and no longer the puppet of a cruel god. Yes, Astarion deserves to be celebrated and showered with gifts and affection. But you? The same person whose hands are stained so red with blood you still can’t comprehend the full extent of your depravity. No, you don’t think so.

"Well," Astarion’s voice cracks, and he takes a shaky breath, clearing his voice. "I guess being the center of attention for the night should make up for postponing my plan to bend my beloved over the cou-"

This snaps you out of your self-deprecation. You clamp your hand over his mouth loudly saying, "Thank you guys; this is… well, this is just perfect."

You rip your hand away when you feel the wet glide of Astarion's tongue and the scratch of a fang. "Seriously," you groan, wiping your hand off on his chest before stepping away and walking up to give out your first of many hugs.

****

"You cheated, you fucking bastard!" Astarion points accusingly over the coffee table, glaring at Gale. "I can sense a spell; you're not as clever as you think, wizard!"

You rub his arms, silently telling him to chill but shooting a glare of your own at the man. "Not to mention Karlach is not a very good actor," you say bluntly, causing the tiefling to scoff in offense. "You know I love you, Kar, but you have never been a good liar. Gale, if you won't play by the rules, I won't be responsible if Star gets violent."

Getting up from the couch, you peck Astarion's cheek and collect the pile of dessert plates. Astarion stands to start his turn of charades, beginning to mime out his word as Gale, Wyll, Karlach, and even Lae'zel tries to guess. Though Lae'zel only seemed to guess various ways to harm an enemy.

Minsc has himself in a deep talk with Boo. The two sat close to the bay window where Halsin and Jaheria had found themselves in a game of chess. By the looks of it, Halsin was winning, and Jahiera was none too happy.

Placing the dishes in the sink, you quickly wash the cake crumbs and frosting off. You carelessly toss each on the drying rack, Astarion always hated when you did dishes always complaining of the many chips you keep putting in the ceramics.

Once done, you walked up to Shadowheart where she was dividing the small pile of presents into two.

"Thank you," you said softly, catching the half-elf's attention. It had come to light that Shadowheart had been the one to bring the idea up. "This has been more than I ever expected."

"We're family," was all she said. And you guessed it was all that needed to be. Just a simple act of love for two people in a large, slightly dysfunctional family. You move automatically, practically tackling Shadowheart into a hug.

"This means more to Astarion and me than we'll ever be able to express." The two of you don't mention the hoarseness in your voice. And if Shadowheart felt a few tears drop on her collar, she doesn't say.

She simply hugs you back just as tight. Once you break away, Shadowheart calls for everyone to gather for presents.

It's a novel concept to open gifts while everyone stares on, waiting for expressions of happiness and thanks. It's awkward, and both Astarion and yourself share the feeling of being out in the deep end. But it's kind of fun.

You open boxes to find books and painting supplies (a hobby you picked up after you saved that rather stuck-up painter from the Zhentarim last year.) But the best is a medium-sized portrait of the party together, something you've been begging everyone for months to do. It's beautiful, and you are already thinking of the perfect location to hang it up.

Astarion receives new embroidery supplies, a shiny new dagger, and a small box. It's black velvet, and when he opens the hinged lid, a plain-looking copper band sits in the middle of a makeshift pillow.

Never one to hold his tongue, Astarion cheekily says, "Oh how quaint, look at this darling; doesn't it look just like the magic ring the tiefling boy tricked you with."

You shoulder him, and he laughs. "Actually, it's a bit more magical than that little trinket; we went to a lot of trouble for that thing, so hush," Jahiera scolds.

"Oh then please regale us with the story of this mysterious gift," Astarion smirks.

"They call it the Sunwalker's gift. It's a rare magical artifact that protects a person from light sensitivity," Shadowheart says.

It doesn't process for Astarion right away, but your breath instantly catches. You freeze in shock; how in the hells did they find this? You thought it was just a legend.

"Gale got a lead, and long story short, it's real, it's here. Fangs, you can walk in the sun mate." Karlach smiles bouncing on her feet, her flames flickering a bit brighter in her excitement.

"However, it's not perfect. You can still succumb to some effects of your hypersensitivity. But the ring should allow at least a solid 8 hours of sun exposure." Halsin quickly adds.

Astarion doesn't take his eyes off the ring. His pointer finger smooths over the tarnished band. He swallows dryly, blinking back tears as quick as they come. "This… this" he's lost for words, and no one rushes him. They all know. "Thank you, will you excuse me?"

He's gone before anyone can react. There is no judgment; everyone knows strong emotions are not something Astarion can process anywhere but alone or with just you.

"This is amazing. I'm pissed you didn't let me in on this surprise, but from both Astarion and I, thank you all." You motion for a hug and they all pile in.

Astarion doesn't return, but no one expects him to. The party wraps up quickly after that; everyone says their goodnight and departs into the night. You lock up the house and retreat to the bedroom. He sits by the window, staring out into the silent city. He's shirtless, his pale skin ethereal in the moonlight. The ring dances across his knuckles absentmindedly, his chin in his other hand.

You make your footsteps purposefully loud as you approach the vampire. Your hands snake themselves around him, caressing his smooth skin of the chest. He catches the ring and turns his face to meet your eyes. You push some hair out of his eye. He's been crying.

"Hey handsome," you smiled, kissing his lips. He turns towards you. Pulling you on to his lap and cups you face. There's no rush to the dance of your lips. Just soft brushes and tongue caress. You pull away panting.

"Gods, I'll never get tired of this."

"Good cause I'm quite smitten with you." You grab his hands, taking the ring from his palm. You slide it onto his left ring finger, the magic tightening the metal to fit perfectly. You press a soft kiss to it sliding off. "Now come; I want to cuddle."

He helps rid you of your dress, slipping on one of his shi in replacement. You both slide under the sheet, Astarion pulls you onto his chest, strong arms enclosing you. Your head is tucked under his chin. He presses a kiss to your hairline whispering I love you.

You play with his hand, taking it off and putting it on each finger, watching it shift to fit each one. It was quiet for a while. Both of you are just soaking in each other.

"Our family," Astarion says quietly, his chest rumbling under your ear. You drop his hand and look up. He has a look of pure love. "The term has been one that has only caused me pain for 200 years. To think I would find a new one that could contest 200 years of shit is…pleasant. Something I didn't expect to have again"

You smile brightly, grabbing his face and pressing your lips back onto his. "We really lucked out, didn't we. Now how about we get some sleep, and in the morning, we go get Evelyn's oranges together."

He doesn't say anything for a moment, just running his hand down your spine, stopping at the swell of your bum and back up again. He kisses you again. "There is nothing I'd like more."

Feedback is welcome and always makes me smile, hate does not! Have a nice day, cheers!

#astarion x dark urge #astarion x tav #astarion imagine #astarion x reader #bg3 astarion #astarion #astarion ancunin #baldur's gate #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #fanfic

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devildom-moss · 6 months

Note

Headcanons with the 7 demons on NNN, in nut november :D, do they participate? What do they do for NNN?

Thanks for the request anon! I felt like I had to do this one since we're at the beginning of November. I hope this is to your liking. I did make it so that part of the temptation of NNN was MC, hopefully you don't mind. Woo. First request complete:

The demon brothers participating in No Nut November headcanons

(NSFW)

Word Count: +2,900

Lucifer

Failure: Likely (+65%)

Ranking: middle of the pack failure if he doesn’t commit to success

Lucifer would participate in it to stroke his own pride, but he’d rather not be asked about it or have to admit that he’s participating.

He’s conflicted over participating in a stupid trend and showcasing his ability to exert self-control.

Ultimately, he’ll quietly participate for an ego boost. If he hears about others – especially Diavolo or Solomon – participating, he’ll be more vocal about joining in. I could see The Fantastic Three group chat (Lucifer, Diavolo, and Barbatos) bringing it up and Diavolo roping the other two to join him because “It’s such an interesting human tradition.”

If Lucifer hears that Solomon plans to participate, he’s definitely going to do it because he can’t be bested by some human.

If MC tempts him, though, he’s screwed. Depending on how far MC wants to push him and if he’s announced his participation, he might wait it out and tease them back all month long – constantly denying MC any sex until December hits. This will require him to basically throw himself into his work. He’ll even abstain from drinking most of the month because he gets so needy when he’s drunk, and he’s not willing to risk it.

If MC isn’t around, as long as they aren’t constantly sending him flirty texts, nudes, videos, or audios, he’d probably be fine. (Although Diavolo might also tease him just a little – a bit of “Oh Lucifer, you look so tense. Can I help?” with his hand on Lucifer’s thigh under the table.)

Or, more likely in my opinion, Lucifer’s going to give in and let MC have their way with him. When MC is concerned, this man is horny on main. He’d probably end up calling MC a “naughty human” for tempting him.

He’ll act like he’s annoyed that MC made him give in, telling them “You have this coming” (which he would also tell them if he decided to tease them all month instead), but honestly, he’s just overjoyed that they couldn’t resist him for a whole month.

If he fails and he’s asked about it, he’ll either skip around the question or he’ll blame his loss on “a certain little human who couldn’t keep their hands to themselves.” (If he has to lose, he’s at least going to make everyone jealous in the process.)

He would probably participate with some regularity. He thinks of it as an intriguing ritual.

Mammon

Failure: Imminent (100%)

Ranking: Beginning of the pack (anywhere from 1st to 3rd to fail)

Mammon likes to brag that “the Great Mammon could totally go a whole month. It’s not like it’s gamblin’ or nothin’.” In his mind, he’s got this in the bag.

In fact, he does not.

Mammon could easily get through about half the month if he tried – assuming MC leaves him alone and isn’t constantly flirting with him. If MC tries to tease him, though, he’s got anywhere between 1 hour to three days of restraint in him. That part depends on how easy it is for him to run away and hide from MC.

He’s the type to try the cold shower cliché. He will also hide out in Levi’s room and game with him a lot – few things kill a mood like being around his otaku little brother.

Unfortunately, his spending habits can get worse when he’s trying to distract himself, so he’ll probably end up strung from the ceiling at some point.

However, if MC keeps tempting him, he’ll convince himself that it’s fine to fool around a little. Then, the greed will take over. Once he has MC in his grasp, he won’t be able to hold back – not after all that teasing they put him through. He’ll crave more. More pleasure. More of their touch. “After all tha shit ya pulled? I’mma need a lot more outta ya.”

There is no regret for failing on his part, and if anyone asks, his comeback is, “At least I’m gettin’ laid.”

If MC teases him but they’re too far away (across the Devildom or in the human world), he can hold out a bit longer, but after a week of teasing, he’ll take matters into his own hands (literally). Since MC was nice enough to get him all riled up, he’ll send them a video of him touching himself. He’ll even add a cute little message: “ya made me tap out early. Take responsibility next time I see ya, yeah?”

He will lie about having done that if anyone asks, though.

Mammon would probably participate in it again, but maybe not every year.

Leviathan

Failure: Imminent (100%)

Ranking: Beginning of the pack (1st or 2nd)

He gets so flustered if anyone so much as asks him about it. He’ll be all ums and uhs and blushing cheeks. (I just imagine Asmo asking him: “Hey, Levi, you want to participate in No Nut November, too? You don’t get much action, so it’ll probably be easy for you, right?” “I-I uhm. Uh. Wh-why would I um. . .” “Great. You’ll join, then?”)

He doesn’t have anything to prove, but he’ll go along with participating – mostly because he doesn’t want anyone making fun of him for not even trying. (Unless it’s MC or Diavolo, who can ridicule him as much as they’d like.)

Levi will play action video games to distract from the urges. Honestly, if he so much as sees MC or a picture of them, he won’t even last a day without the urge to touch himself.

He can’t watch any anime with fanservice in it or play more risqué otome games. He’ll still log in and get his daily bonuses and do whatever else he really has to do, but that’s it. His imagination wanders too much, and he won’t be able to resist thinking perverted thoughts.

The more he tries to resist, the worse it gets for him. I imagine he’s usually quick to just masturbate when he gets urges, so he doesn’t have much experience holding back. Levi will try to curl up in his tub and just sleep it off.

Unfortunately, Levi will get so desperate that in a half-asleep state, he’ll slip into his demon form and start to rub himself with his own tail. Once he realizes he’s already started to touch himself, he figures that counts as an accidental loss, so he might as well keep going. Levi will end up fucking himself with his own tail in a needy, sleepy attempt to relieve himself. Even worse for Levi, only a few days of November had passed. (I could also see him losing as early as day 2)

If MC tries to touch him, he won’t resist – although he would be incredibly pleased to have MC tease and edge him for a while. In that case, he would probably last a bit longer (up to a week) because he wants to be the perfect babygirl for MC. But inevitably, he’d either touch himself while half-asleep (and lose), or MC would touch him a bit too much and he’d cum prematurely (and lose).

He’ll probably participate once and then never try again. He's just bad at holding back and edging, but any attempt to do so would turn him into such an adorable, submissive, moaning mess that I think it’s perfectly fine.

Satan

Failure: Unlikely (<20%)

Ranking: End of the pack (probably 2nd to last)

Satan thinks the idea of holding back and resisting is fun, but he also feels like he’s proving himself – especially if it becomes a thing that everyone sort of commits to trying. (I can imagine Satan and Solomon competing and whoever caves first pays for MC and the winner to go on a cat café date).

He’s come a long way with controlling his anger, so controlling lust isn’t that much of a big deal. It makes him feel sort of proud. However, it is annoying to lose one of his stress-relief outlets.

This man would probably test himself by pulling out the good (albeit a little deranged, unhinged) erotica and reading it all month. Satan would probably read some of it aloud for MC, too. He likes being able to tease them and get them riled up, but he pulls back before either he or MC are ready to get too hot.

He would kiss MC on the cheek more often throughout the month in place of kissing their lips. He can handle a few chaste kisses on the lips, but Satan spends a while testing the waters to see how much physical intimacy he can tolerate. In the first half of the month, Satan doesn’t trust himself to make out with MC without wanting more. By the end of the month, he can probably get into some heavy petting without worry.

He commits to finishing – or, well, not “finishing” – that month, so very little is going to get him to quit. Even if MC is desperate and can’t hold out or doesn’t participate themselves, Satan will just offer to give them head until they feel better. He’ll use toys on them or something, but he really wants to stick with it on his end.

If MC really wants him that badly (especially if they get so needy that they cry or threaten to ask someone else to take care of them), he’ll cave so quickly.

If he does succeed, he’ll plan a romantic date with MC sometime in early December (or plan a video/audio call). He’ll be slow and sweet about it, indulging in every touch before devolving into need and desperation. MC will have to clear their schedule for the following morning. After all, Satan has a lot of time to make up for.

Satan will participate every once in a while, especially if Solomon does it, too. It’s sort of like prolonged foreplay to him (and I feel like this man adores foreplay).

Asmodeus

Failure: Unlikely (<15%)

Ranking: End of the pack (probably 3rd to last)

Asmo participates in it – in a way. Honestly, he just uses it as an excuse to do a month-long edging session. He gets a kick out of seeing how close he can get without cumming. So, he’s not a “no nut” purist or anything – what can you expect from the avatar of lust?

Asmo will try dozens of different forms of stimulation throughout the month – on his own, with MC, and potentially with others if MC is open to it *coughcoughSolomonThirteen*. I won’t get too into all of it, but pillow humping, hidden vibrators in public, and nipple play are definitely involved multiple times.

He loves experimenting and enjoying the pleasure regardless of whether he cums. If MC is participating, Asmo will have even more fun. He’ll flirt and tease them all month. The number of nudes, videos, and audios he would send to MC is excessive. (He would send the most delicious audios. Mm.) If MC doesn’t participate, he’s still up to fool around.

Unfortunately, he is a bit more distracted throughout the month. At some points – sometimes days at a time – he’ll be walking around in a cloud of lust.

Like Satan, Asmo will offer head and use toys on MC, but he’ll go a few steps further. MC can use him however they please, so long as they stop before he’s pushed over the edge (but he does have a risk of failure here). If they want to just put him in a chastity belt or use a numbing cream on him, that works too.

Asmo will likely succeed in not cumming for the whole month. He’ll invite MC over for a little fun the night of November 30th, edging all the way up to midnight before he finally gets to cum after the clock strikes 12. I could see him having MC do a countdown for him like it’s New Year’s Eve (except instead of a ball dropping, two of them release. And instead of fireworks and confetti, there are moans and cum everywhere. Sorry.)

Side note: How adorable would it be to lie to Asmo that night and start the countdown early so he cums a few minutes or seconds before midnight? Then you could tease him and tell him he loses. He’d pout so much, maybe playfully slap his hand on your chest or shoulder, and then just kiss you and tell you to do it again. After all, you owed him his first orgasm in December. You better follow through.)

Asmo would probably participate almost every year – if not every year. He enjoys it.

Beelzebub

Failure: Unlikely (<25%)

Ranking: End of the pack (Probably last if he succeeds)

Beel does pretty well, even without edging. Honestly, edging probably won’t come to mind unless MC brings it up with him. If he does try it, he finds it quite pleasant, although not that useful for quenching his desires.

Although Beel doesn’t show signs of being particularly needy or desperate, he does exercise and eat more than usual to distract himself when he feels a bit hot and bothered. Beel will especially crave sweet or spicy foods to numb his desires.

As long as MC doesn’t try to tempt him too much (and by too much I mean as far as grinding on him for a half hour or dropping to their knees and begging to suck him off or rubbing him through his pants for longer than a few minutes), he’ll be perfectly fine.

If it’s clear that MC wants sex, he’ll do what Satan and Asmo would and just give them oral, use his hands, or use toys on them – but he would prefer oral. He’s happy to please MC for as long as they’d like (although MC is definitely at risk of being overstimulated because if Beel is trying to hold himself back, he’s at least going to indulge in pleasing MC). If MC is participating, and they just want Beel to edge them, they’re out of luck. He probably will not stop in time. And if he does, he’ll pout and look up at MC with such sad eyes, I don’t know how they would be able to deny him. Who could put no nut November over Beel? What kind of monster would do that?

The only way he’s failing is if MC does some kind of foodplay-esque teasing (the classical ice pop sucking, licking something sticky off of Beel’s fingers, etc.). Even then, he might be able to hold back and stick to just focusing on MC’s pleasure.

However, if MC doesn’t want him to hold back anymore, he’ll stop participating. Beel’s not that committed to succeeding (unless he makes a bet that involves food). It’s not a big deal as long as you’re both happy.

If he succeeds, he won’t have any plans to orgasm in December, so he might get through most or all of December without it, too. At that point, it’ll be a bit of a habit to not touch himself or MC, so he might just forget. Once he does finally get off, he’ll unravel a bit and crave more (hopefully it wasn’t intended to be a quicky, because he’ll turn it into an all-nighter).

Beel probably won’t participate often (unless one of his sports teams makes it a tradition or something). It doesn’t do much for him, although he does enjoy watching MC get needy and a bit desperate for him when he participates and denies them a bit. (He just wants MC to want him and use him whenever they please.)

Belphegor

Failure: Imminent (100%)

Ranking: Beginning of the pack (anywhere from 1st to 3rd to fail)

It doesn’t count if you cum in your sleep, right? If Belphie tries to participate, which he’d only do if someone else dared him to (peer pressure), the attempt to restrain himself would result in intense wet dreams. A few nights into November, Belphie would find himself grinding against his pillows or MC in his sleep. He’s a lucid dreamer, so he would lean into the most depraved thoughts.

Unfortunately, he hates dealing with the mess that comes (cums) from his little loophole.

Belphegor would probably try to nap whenever he gets the urge to touch himself or MC.

Honestly, he’s willing to give up at the drop of a hat. He doesn’t care. He’s put minimal effort into this. He’s a tired demon, and there’s no reason he should deprive himself of a waking pleasure for a dumb trend.

If MC starts purposely teasing him, Belphie will just quit and ask MC to take care of the tightness in his pants that they caused.

Even under normal circumstances, Belphie isn’t the biggest fan of being edged. He’ll be super whiny about it – especially if he held out for a week or so. (“I need it now. Touch me, please. . . Ah! You feel so good. I missed this so bad, MC.”) Once he gives up and finally gets to have sex with MC, he’s a squirming, desperate little mess.

“I held out for so long. You should praise me more. I’ve been so needy.” He’d whine, rocking his hips to meet MC’s and letting out soft, little whimpers. If they try to tell him that he failed to make it the whole month and doesn’t deserve praise for so little effort, he’ll just pout, still humping against them sleepily, and retort, “but I tried.” (He will say this even if he only made it three or four days.)

He did try. MC should be proud of him and just keep fucking him until he’s a sleepy, content puddle beneath them. He’ll make it up to them by being an adorable body pillow/cuddle buddy.

He’ll try it once and never again. He’s going to get his dopamine (and other happy chemicals) in whatever form they come (cum) in.

A/N: Don't forget that the poll for November's fic ends at the end of November 7th PST and requests end at the end of November 5th PST

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drchucktingle · 10 months

Note

Doc, is there anywhere we can purchase your ebooks other than Amazon? I would love to support you and your work without giving my dollars to the big bad Bezos corp. Thank you for doing what you do!!! <3

this is great question buckaroo. amazon has way of STRANGLEHOLD on self publishing not just ebooks but also way of print on demand (chuck once went to whole trouble of setting up books to print with separate print on demand company and then a few months later amazon BOUGHT THE OTHER COMPANY what the heck). so way of self publishing is wonderful in some ways and in others it is very much locked down by amazon.

there is small answer though, which will hopefully one day turn into BIG ANWSER. i am sorry to always be harpin on buds preordering CAMP DAMASCUS but i will say this:

chuck trotted to traditional publishing for many reasons but VERY BIG REASON was because of how many buckaroos have asked question you are asking right now. ironically in this particular business going to BIG PUBLISHER is only way to get your books into SMALL BOOKSTORES and goal of chuck was to have my writing in independent bookstores so buds like you could buy them. right now i have deal for my horror novels but SUCCESS of this deal will speak to the future of tingleverse distribution.

so for right now amazon is only way to get tinglers but if you would like to help chuck keep pushing away from that in the future there is concrete way to help with is to preorder camp damascus WHICH YOU CAN ALREADY DO THROUGH ANY INDEPENDENT BOOKSTORE. the better this book does (and way of first week sales is big part of this which preorders count towards) the more opportunities i will have for wider distribution.

thank you for question bud LOVE IS REAL

BUCKAROO EDIT: also wanted to edit to add it even helps if you request from your library which most libraries let you do online. so if you have book already or cannot afford that is other important trot

#love is real #book business #tingleverse #way of the buckaroo #buckaroo lifestyle #camp damascus

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navybrat817 · 1 year

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In His Hands

Pairing: Woodworker!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Summary: Bucky's new project is his favorite one yet for a very special reason. Word Count: Over 2k Warnings: Fluff, implied sexual content, pregnancy, slight feels (it's me), minor flashback, canon divergent, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?). Graphics talent and thanks: Banner by @sgt-seabass. Divider by @firefly-graphics Bucky edit by Nix. Moodboard by yours truly. A/N: My first Connect 4 (C4007 - Square 2) / Into an Alternate Juneiverse for @buckybarnesevents! Set in Into the Woods AU and time jump from Valentine's Day Tradition, but can be read as a standalone.❤️ Beta read by the lovely @whisperlullaby, but any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

The buzz of the table saw echoed in the barn as Bucky carefully cut through the maple board, inspecting it to make sure it was even. He put a lot of thought and care into each project and design he created. Everything from cost to maintenance to longevity. His current project was especially close to his heart.

My favorite one yet.

After the fight, coming to grips with his trauma, everything, the city felt different. Bucky longed to have a simpler life. He unexpectedly found a bit of peace in the form of woodwork. Using his hands to build things, and not damage them, kept him busy and happy. But the thing that brought everything full circle was you.

His wife.

"Doll, I still can't believe you said yes."

"Who would say no to you, Jamie?"

He glanced at a photo of the two of you on the wall, still in disbelief that he got to wake up beside you every morning. He found it more and more difficult to get out of bed when he wanted to stay tangled up with you, but the bills wouldn't pay themselves and he had to work to get a paycheck. Lucky for him, his "office" was in the nearby barn. The yard was a decent size, too.

"Great place for a family one day, isn't it?"

"Just about perfect, doll."

Like Steve, he hadn't expected to love living a quiet life outside of the city, but he did. You made a beautiful home together and it wasn't that far of a drive if he wanted to visit. He wondered some days if he was living in a dream because things seemed too good to be true.

If so, he never wanted to wake up.

"Need you to be perfect," he said to himself as he cut another board.

He checked the design again, his eyes narrowed as he thought about how long it would take to finish. You gave him your seal of approval when he showed his idea and reminded him not to put too much pressure on himself. He had plenty of time to make it and other projects came first.

But he hadn't had a task as important as this one.

He removed his safety glasses when the sun shone through the window, giving the place a soothing glow and him a moment to pause and reflect. He made love to you that morning. There was no pain in his left shoulder. Steve planned to stop by this evening. It was just about a perfect day.

How is this my life?

"You know, I think that is going to be your best work yet."

Bucky turned his attention to where you stood in the doorway. He couldn't keep the smile off his face when he noticed you had one of his shirts on. You looked good in his clothes, always had. And seeing you enter a room still took his breath away. He didn't think he could love you more, but he did each day.

If I ever stop breathing from the sight of you, at least your face will be the last thing I see.

His gaze went to your stomach before he closed the distance between the two of you and placed his large hand on it. He hadn't built a crib, but he did his research to be sure he'd make the best and safest one possible. It would be something to hopefully pass on to future generations. Another tradition.

But first and foremost, it would belong to the baby.

Our baby.

"I'm just getting started, but I think you're right," Bucky said, sinking to his knees and kissing your belly. "Only the best for our little jellybean."

Most days he couldn't keep his hands off of you, but it got worse once he found out you were pregnant with his child. You were glowing, more than usual, and he was a moth drawn to the flame. Thankfully you didn't mind and let him indulge.

Your need matched his own.

He'd never forget the joy he felt when you told him you were pregnant. You often brought him snacks or lunch while he worked, but that day you brought him a small gift box, too. It wasn't his birthday or a special occasion, so he had no idea what it could possibly be. Inside were two positive pregnancy tests. He almost dropped them, too stunned to speak. His heart almost burst through his chest when he saw the happy tears in your eyes.

"We're having a baby, Bucky. You're going to be a dad!"

It took a minute to sink in. You were having his baby. He was going to be a dad. You were giving him a family. A life he had only dreamt of.

'I still have to see a doctor, but-"

His mouth came down on yours before you could finish what you had to say, his massive hands framing your face so he could deepen the kiss. He poured his love, passion, soul, everything into it. He took you right there on one of his empty work tables, his left hand on your stomach the entire time.

"I love you, doll. Love you both so much."

He brought you back to the house and made love to you all over again, taking his time to worship you. He didn't get any work done the rest of the day. It was worth it.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, concern filling his eyes when you yawned.

He always checked on you during his breaks to make sure you felt okay, even when you insisted that he didn't need to. Days like this when you visited the barn first, he still had to ask. Any discomfort or pains, he wanted to know and help however he could.

"Just fine," you assured him, tucking a few strands of hair that came loose from his ponytail behind his ear. Just like he couldn't stop touching you, you always found an excuse to run your fingers through his long, brown locks since he grew it back out. "A bit tired, but fine."

"You're not wearing your mama out, are you?" he asked your belly. He pressed his ear against it and felt a slight kick, as if he got an answer. "Good because she needs rest. She has enough to deal with taking care of me."

"We take care of each other," you said.

Bucky wanted to believe that. You had a good set-up in the city before the two of you decided to move and he worried you'd regret going with him. You reminded him that you were still going to work from home and it was a choice you made together.

Partners. Equals. Soulmates.

"Yes, we do," he said fondly, focusing on your stomach again. "But can you believe she had the nerve to ask if we should buy you a crib? Like she forgot I could make you one. Don't hold it against her, jellybean. Hormones and baby brain."

"Bucky!" you scolded before you laughed.

He chuckled as he kissed your stomach a second time. "I'm kidding. Kind of. I did have to drive all over town the other day to find the potato chips she wanted."

Bucky would drive to the ends of the earth to satisfy any craving you had.

"Hey. Our baby is the one asking for them and it was the only flavor that would provide any satisfaction," you defended yourself. "And I balanced it out with fruit, so everyone wins."

"Yes we do and I'm glad. I need you both nice and healthy," he said as he stood up.

"We're both fine. You know that," you smiled.

He hadn't missed a single appointment, wanting to be there every step of the way. Listening to his baby's heartbeat was like hearing his favorite song again for the first time. He actually waved at the screen when you had your sonogram. And he swore the baby waved back.

Bucky also bought a few books on babies and parenthood. While he knew some life lessons couldn't be learned from a book, he wanted to be prepared. You supported him in that and baby proofing the house in advance.

Your only request was that you didn't want to know what you were having, which he agreed to.

It would be a beautiful surprise for both of you.

"Need you both safe, too," he added.

"We are safe," you said, glancing around. "Our home is safe. You don't need to worry."

Bucky tried not to. Your home was secure and he kept a clean and safe shop in the barn, but he didn't want to take a risk by having you too close to any of the tools or get irritated by the dust. The only table he let you touch was the empty one where he made love to you. Maybe that was why it was still empty.

"I guess you're right," he said, brushing his lips against your forehead. "You know if we have a girl, I'm never letting her out of my sight."

"Oh, I know," you giggled, putting your hand on his wide chest. Feeling the wedding band through his shirt was one of his favorite things. "And if we have a boy, you'll teach him to be a gentleman. Though I imagine he'll probably be just like you."

"Hey, I am a gentleman, ma'am," he smiled.

"Mmm. You keep telling yourself that," you teased.

Bucky hoped they took after you. Kind, but fierce. Loving and fair. Whether he had a daddy's girl or a mini version of himself, he just wanted to have a special place in their heart.

"And you really don't mind that I'm making the crib, do you?"

"Of course, I don't," you said, frowning. He immediately kissed your lips to make it disappear. "Why?"

"Just making sure," he said, rubbing your belly. The source of comfort from such a small gesture amazed him. "I think I just feel better knowing our baby is truly in my hands."

It was silly, but Bucky thought if he made the crib that it would be like he was holding your child as he or she slept. That no matter what, they would be safe and cared for. Surrounded by familiarity and warmth.

Your baby deserved that and more.

"I think that's a beautiful thing," you assured him, placing a hand over his. "You work so hard for us and I know our baby will one day appreciate that you built them something with your heart and hands."

His hands, like the rest of him, were massive and strong. A man his size was meant to destroy, which he did in battle and worse. He also proved that he was meant to create. His size never intimidated you. In fact, you once said that one of many things that made him special was how deceptively gentle he could be.

That the only ruin he would bring you with his touch would make you whole again.

In my hands, you'll always be loved.

"I'll always work hard for my family," he promised.

He hadn't told you yet, but he planned to build a rocking chair for the nursery, too. He wanted it to be a surprise. He could already picture the two of you sitting in it with a soft blanket to keep you warm.

The image made his heart swell.

"And if I have my way, we'll have one more. Jellybean could use a companion."

"Now you sound just like Steve. Both of you wanting to keep your best girls knocked up," you smiled, sliding your hands up his muscular arms to his shoulders. "You think you'll convince me?"

"I don't think. I know," he smirked, kissing you before you could argue.

As excited as Bucky was for the next part in your journey together, he was also afraid. He knew he'd be a good father, but not a perfect one. He'd make mistakes and stumble along the way. He wouldn't always have the answer. What he did know was that he was going to give his child unconditional love and care.

Starting with the crib built with his heart and hands.

Bucky is going to be an amazing dad, right? And how about Steve? Love and thanks for reading! 💙

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

#navybrat writes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #connect4au #woodworker!bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #woodworker!bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #into the woods au #bucky barnes x f!reader #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x female reader #sebastian stan x you

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valleyof-goldenlilies · 4 months

Text

The Gingerbread Kerfuffle - Modern! Daemon Targaryen x Reader

Summary: Seeking your husband's help in baking gingerbread turns out not be the roaring success you had hoped it would be.

Pairing: Modern! Daemon Targaryen x AFAB! Reader

Warnings: profanity, p in v sex, degradation, cunnilingus, spanking, overstim, tiddy play, rough sex, slight daddy kink if you squint, she/her pronouns used

Word Count: 1.75k words

A/N: hoe hoe hoe! a very merry late Christmas and Happy New Year in advance from me to you :) Daemon girlies, you are up first 😋 i hope you enjoy!

lovely dividers credited to @firefly-graphics !

“And what exactly is the difference between these two?” Daemon’s disgusted voice broke you from your focus as you focused on beating the milk and sugar. You sighed, turning to face Daemon as he held up the bag of flour and baking powder, looking confused.

Why in the Seven Hells did you think it would be a good idea to try and rope your husband into helping you to bake gingerbread cookies?

If it weren’t for the two twin girls soundly asleep upstairs in their beds, eagerly awaiting for your household’s traditional gingerbread cookies, you might have laughed until you woke the whole neighbourhood by now.

“This, my dearest husband,” you took the bag of flour from his hand, “Is the flour. Or all-purpose flour as we call it.”

“And what are its purposes?” Daemon inquired, a scowl on his face as his gaze flickered between the baking powder and flour.

You paused, “I…actually don’t know,” you admitted. “It’s just essential.” Daemon scoffed, “Darling, are you sure you know how to bake?” You shoot him a glare. “Who’s the one struggling to tell the difference between flour and baking powder, darling?” You moved to check on the mixture in the mixing bowl. Your husband came up behind you, hopefully not to ask another question about the difference and functions of baking ingredients.

Arms encircled you, as Daemon buried his face in your hair, inhaling your sweet floral scent. “You know…” Daemon murmured, hands creeping towards the front of your shorts. “I might not understand anything about baking, but you sure look sexy as hell while doing it.”

“Mmm,” you hummed, playing along as Daemon continued kissing your neck. “Daemon, the girls.”

“Won’t hear a thing,” Daemon concluded, trying to tug off your shorts. “As long as you’re quiet, darling.”

You smirked, pressing yourself up against him. A groan and his hardness pressing against you made you know you had succeeded, causing your smirk to widen. “Come on, darling, what do you say?” Daemon murmured, hands grazing over your pussy over your shorts. “Let me fuck you?”

“Hmm,” you pretended to consider it. “I say…help me roll up the dough into two balls, you dirty dog.” You spun around, pushing him off you gently.

Daemon raised an eyebrow, a smirk forming on his lips, looking not at all bothered by your rejection. “I know what other two balls you can play with-'' He laughed as you shoved the mixing bowl in his arms, looking at him sternly. “Less dirty talk, more rolling please. I’d actually like to get some sleep before having to wake up early to bake these tomorrow.”

“Yes, madam,” Daemon responded in a sly voice, as you narrowed your eyes at him.

The two of you made fast work of it, rolling the dough into two balls, before putting them in the fridge. You let out a sigh of relief as you began washing up the bowls in the sink, it was only 11 o’ clock, which meant that the two of you could get in eight hours of sleep before having to wake up tomorrow to bake the cookies.

When you finally finished washing up, you wiped your hands on the kitchen cloth, brows furrowing a little. It was quiet…too quiet.

“Daemon?” You called out, scanning the kitchen for your oversized man toddler. You had asked him to put the ingredients back into the pantry, but the man was nowhere to be seen. “Daem-“

You let out a squeal as strong arms scooped you up, bridal style. Daemon carried you like you weighed nothing more than a rag doll, briskly walking up the stairs to your shared bedroom.

“Daemon, what are you-“ you squealed again as he tossed you onto your bed roughly, immediately climbing over you and removing his sweatpants. “You think it’s funny, hmm?” Daemon lifted an eyebrow as he continued undressing himself, then moving to undress you. “Teasing me like a brat in the kitchen, acting all smart with me in the kitchen, like you’re better than me hmm?”

You stifled a giggle, coyly trailing a finger down Daemon’s abs. “Well, to be fair, you were the one who confused sugar for salt. I think I-“ You yelped as Daemon flipped you over onto your stomach, landing a harsh smack on your ass. “Not so feisty now, are we?” He taunted, spanking you again.

You choked on your breath as he continued spanking you harshly, but the inner brat in you refused to submit. “Says the man who doesn’t know the difference between a spatula and a whisk,” you mocked, sticking up your ass even more, leaning into his touch.

Daemon growled, hand landing on your ass so harshly that it made you yip in pain. He immediately moved to cover your mouth. “Shh, little whore,” he said condescendingly, smirking down at you. “Don’t want to wake the girls, don’t you?”

You were about to argue back, but then Daemon, clearly having had enough of your bratty attitude, thrust into you harshly from behind, making you scream into his mouth. He rubbed your back soothingly with the other hand, shushing you like you were a small child. “Shh, shh, I thought you said that we shouldn’t wake the girls, yes?” Daemon’s words were mockingly sweet, as he began pumping into you leisurely. He still kept his hand over your mouth, muffling any of your moans and cries as he fucked you. He groaned as you clenched tighter around him when he went faster, his hips snapping into yours. “Oh, the little whore likes it when I treat her rough like this, doesn’t she?” Daemon taunted, emphasising his words by thrusting into you when he called you a little whore. “Likes it when her daddy just fucks her with no care in the world, doesn’t she?”

You nodded eagerly, and Daemon smiled wolfishly at that, planting kisses down your neck down your spine. “Such a good fucking girl, mmm, all for me,” Daemon smacked your ass lightly a few times, groaning at the erotic sound of skin slapping on skin.

You felt a heated whisper against your ear, as Daemon grazed his lips against your ear, making you shiver. “And do you know what good girls get, sweetheart?” Daemon pulled back with a smirk as he watched you with mock pity. “Oh yes, my hand is still around your mouth. Tsk, how silly of me to forget.” He relished in the indignant “mmph!” noises he heard from you in response.

“I’ll tell you the answer, sweetheart,” Daemon said blandly, like he wasn’t currently ploughing into you right now with the vigour of a bull. “Good girls get to cum, sweetheart.” With that, his other hand went down to your swollen pearl, rubbing it with his thumb. He laughed as he heard your noises becoming more and more needy, letting out a sated sigh as he felt you cum on his cock, your walls tightening around him as you did.

“Oh, beautiful,” he leaned down and kissed you, taking note of how out of breath you were as he released his hand from your mouth. A smug smirk flickered on his lips. You were shaking so badly…

Too bad he wasn’t known for being “The Merciful” in the business world.

You yelped when Daemon flipped you over. Your back hit the cool sheets, but they provided little relief as Daemon seized your legs, forcing them to wrap around his waist as he continued thrusting in you. Cries of pleasure fell from your lips as Daemon’s hot mouth went to suck on your swollen, hardened nipples, biting them lightly and delighting as you writhed under his tongue.

“I can’t come again, Daemon, please,” you cried out, as Daemon’s pounding grew more and more intense and you felt the familiar coil in your stomach again. Daemon released your nipple with a wet pop, and looked menacingly into your eyes.

“Yes, you can. You little slut.”

Daemon lowered his mouth back onto your heated, sweaty skin again, this time devoting his attention to your neck and collarbone, while his hands came up to play and fondle with your tits, squeezing them. You let out a strangled moan as you came again, as Daemon flicked his thumb at your hardened bud.

You had hoped that Daemon would let you go after that, but your husband had other plans. Your head initially lolled back against the pillows in exhaustion, but it snapped up again as Daemon spread your legs even wider. “What…”

A wicked grin was all you saw before Daemon dived between your folds, eagerly licking up your wet, swollen slit “No, no, no more,“ you cried out, hips bucking off the bed as you tried to pull yourself away from his hot, needy mouth, but firm hands gripped your hips tightly, preventing you from moving an inch more.

You were always the sweetest thing Daemon had ever tasted, and he especially loved eating you out after your orgasms, with your legs shaking and barely managing to keep a hold of your sanity as he ravished you with his mouth.

When you felt his skilled tongue flicking at your clit, you could feel your orgasm approaching again, your body trembling in preparation for it. “Daemon, I can’t, I can’t-“ A strangled moan tore from your throat as you came, squirting Daemon’s face and tongue with your juices. Daemon chuckled darkly against your folds, refusing to stop until he had licked up every trace of your cum.

Exhausted after the three orgasms wrung from you, you collapsed back on the pillows. You felt a finger running along your overstimulated slit, as Daemon pulled himself up to you again, kissing you sweetly, a stark contrast from his former ravenous, wicked demeanour.

Daemon pushed his finger into your mouth, giving you a simple command. “Taste yourself, darling.” Your tongue hesitantly darted out, sucking your own juices off his finger. A sigh emerged from your lips, and Daemon smiled, kissing your forehead. “Is it over now?” you mumbled softly, eyes fluttering shut.

“Mmm,” Daemon hummed, looking down at your blissed out, fucked out state. “I think you’re forgetting something, darling.”

You opened your eyes, looking confused. Eyes darting to the clock on the wall opposite your bed, your brows furrowed. “Merry…Christmas, love?”

Daemon burst out laughing, hand trailing down to play with your nipples again. “Not that, darling,” he whispered, a devilish grin on his face. “I still haven’t come yet, haven’t I?”

Oh, fuck.

Daemon General Taglist: @aiyaiy @kmmg98 @norestfortheshelbywicked @hb8301 @hc-geralt-23 @babypink224221 @mckenziewhite2005

let me know if you wish to be added to a general taglist for daemon related works or just my works in general in the comments below or through this form! :)

thank you for reading! if you liked it, likes, comments and reblogs are always highly appreciated! merry late xmas guys 😘🎄

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marvelseries19 · 2 months

Text

THE ONLY MEMORY IS US KISSING IN THE MOONLIGHT

Pairing: Mary Earps x reader

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

Summary: All of your memories are lost after a concussion... All but one.

A/N: First, it was meant to be a one-shot but, it turned out to be a bit too long for my liking so, in the next few days I should be able to post the second part if you want it. Despite studying to be a nurse, I have no idea how a concussion works, so, don't quote me on anything. Also, I used to play football like a hundred years ago, so, again, don't quote me on anything. I hoped to post this on Valentine's Day, but life happened, and I ended up driving my sister to get a few things, which set me back a lot. I hope you like it and I'm open to reading your feedback and your ideas if you want. I did not proofread it so, if you see a misspelled word or something... no you didn't.

Warnings: Mention of injuries mostly.

Word count: 1.4k+

[You do not have permission to repost or translate any of my stories or claim them as yours]

Part one

Manchester United vs. Manchester City

It was Derby match day, and as such, you were all nervous about it. Everyone was very determined to get another win for the team. But there was no one more determined than your fiance. Mary tended to take it very hard whenever someone got the ball past her, especially on a Derby match, and you more than anyone knew how much it affected her, having witnessed Mary's dedication and passion for the game countless times before. Her commitment to the team was unwavering, and she always gave it her all on the field. The pressure of this match only fueled her determination further, making her even more focused on stopping every shot that came her way. It was also the reason you were so committed to ensuring she could, hopefully, maintain a clean sheet.

Traveling to the stadium proceeded as usual. Before heading outside to do the field inspection, you went to the changing rooms and put away your gear. Following one of your pre-match traditions, you went hand in hand, talking about some ideas and your hopes while also giving each other sweet, supportive words.

After you were done with the inspection, everyone headed toward the changing room to start getting ready to go out for the warm-up. "Baby…" Mary came to sit next to you in your cubby, holding the physio tape out for you to take. Another one of your traditions was for you to tape her fingers before every game. You kissed each of her fingers as you taped it, taking care to get it exactly how she wanted it. "All done, baby." You leaned in to kiss her cheek before she moved to tie your boots. When you first made it a tradition, your teammates made sure to tease you relentlessly about it, but after time passed, they realized how important it was for both of you and decided to just silently admire the dedication and love each of you put into the task.

It felt like you blinked when you suddenly had to get out to the tunnel to make your entrance, but not before sharing a sweet kiss with your soon-to-be wife.

The next hour passed like a blur. Each team left it all out on the field in the first half, both being very physical about their game. By this point, the goalkeepers were the only players who had not been taken down by another player. Leaving the first time 0–0 didn't help either to calm their playing strategies.

Halftime goes as expected. The pressure of the derby weighs heavily on everyone, especially on the defensive line and Mary, since the opposite team managed to break it a few times, creating dangerous opportunities that your girlfriend was successfully able to save.

Going to the second leg of the game, you were even more determined to help Mary get a clean sheet, so when the other team got a corner kick, you were inside the penalty box to make sure that the ball didn't get past the blond's hands.

Your heart was racing while you waited for the city player to take the corner, fighting to maintain the mark on your player. All that was on your mind was keeping that ball away from the danger zone, so when the ball was finally in the air, you, along with the other players, jumped to head the ball.

That is the last thing you get to see, as your head not only collides with the other footballer's head, but since you were near the post, your head ended up hitting it too. Mary got a hold of the ball, but before she could send it far, she noticed your unmoving body. Ella, who was near you, leaned down to make sure you were okay, but if the blood on your forehead wasn't enough to scare her, your lack of response was.

The medics are rushed to the playground, worried that head injuries can become bad really fast. Mary is stuck in place, not able to do anything more than call out for you in hopes that you open your eyes.

"Baby, please just open your eyes." A nudge from Zelem takes her out of her shock, finally making her way toward you.

"We need to take her to the hospital; she's not waking up." One of the physios said as they called in the paramedics on standby at each game.

"I need to go with her," Mary said to her captain. "Go, I'll talk to the coach." With a pat on the goalkeeper's shoulder, she sent her on her way. "Let me know what happens!"

—

Mary is left in the waiting area, concerned about your condition, while you are hurried into the hospital for some scans to determine the extent of the injuries. She understands that injuries are inevitable in such a physically demanding sport, but it breaks her heart to watch the person she loves so much lying on the ground, unable to open her eyes. The blonde was struggling mightily with her tears, trying not to think of the worst-case scenario because she knew it would not help.

The remainder of the squad started to move toward the waiting room an hour later. Even though Mary wasn't crying just yet, her expression made it obvious that she was frightened about your condition, and they were all rather concerned about it.

They didn't have to wait much longer for a status report. The doctor appears through the door of the waiting room. "Y/n Y/l/n's family?"

Mary shot up from her seat. "Yes, I'm her fiance."

"I have some news; there are no signs of intracranial bleeding, which was our main concern, but she does have a pretty serious concussion, so I must warn you. She may present some loss of memory, but it will be temporary, and there is no way of knowing how much time it will take for her to recover it or how much of it she'll lose if she does at all."

"So, she's going to be okay, right?" Mary said, her voice filled with concern.

"Yes, she will need to rest a lot and take it easy for a while, but she's going to be okay." Everyone could feel the tension leave their shoulders. "Would you like to see her?"

"Yes, please." The doctor was quick to direct the blonde to your room. Mary wanted to cry at the sight of you, so small on the hospital bed and with a big bandage on your head.

"Remember that she might not know who you are just yet; just be gentle with her." The keeper could only nod to the doctor. "I'll leave you with her; if you need anything, just press the button on the side of her bed."

Mary walked next to you and held your hand in one of hers; with the other, she very gently caressed your cheek, not wanting to disturb you in any way. She was scared out of her mind. You were about to get married; you were supposed to enjoy this chapter of your life, and now you might not even remember who she was.

The first few hours were the easiest for her. The more time that passed, the more she worried. What was taking so long? The doctor had said that you would be okay; it was just a concussion.

Your teammates had tried in vain to lift her spirits, but at least they'd succeeded in getting the blonde to change out of her still-fitting team kit and take a shower.

The shower, the strong emotions of the day, and the game you had played tired her out. She fell asleep with her head resting next to your body on the bed while holding your hand for dear life.

—

Your eyelids flickered open and then shut again as soon as you noticed the room's brightness; this made the pounding sensation in your head worse. You tried moving your hand to cover your face when you felt a weight on top of it. The movement stirred Mary up, who took a second to understand what was happening.

"Baby, you're awake," Mary whispered with a mixture of relief and concern in her voice. She gently moved her head from your body and sat up, allowing you to adjust to the light. "How are you feeling?" she asked, her eyes filled with worry.

"Who are you?"

To be continued…

#Mary Earps #mary earps imagine #mary earps x reader #Manchester united wfc #mary earps x reader fluff #woso fanfic #reader insert #woso imagine #engwnt #woso fanfics

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yelena-bellova · 10 months

Text

Heartfirst: A Ted Lasso Story - Chapter Eleven

Chapter Eleven: Christmas for Two

Plot: Away from their families, Jamie and Y/n attempt to do Christmas together.

Word Count: 4.1k

Warnings: f!reader, language, talk of alcoholism, child abuse/neglect

A/N: A little Christmas in July/Phil Dunster Emmy nomination gift for you all! I have no clue what the timeline on s3 is, but this felt like a good place to put a Christmas chapter. I also did my best to combine English and American Christmas traditions/vernacular, hopefully did okay. Hope you enjoy!! 🎄❤️

—————

The coach’s office was a mess of ribbons and wrapping paper.

Ted gasped as he opened the box sat in his lap, “You are kiddin’ me.”

Stood in a corner of the room, Y/n beamed.

“C’mon now,” Ted pulled out the bottle of American barbecue sauce, “Where’d you find this?”

“Specialty store in Chiswick,” Y/n replied, “I was there seeing if Britain had finally caved and brought over Ben and Jerry’s. Spoiler alert: they have not.”

Ted was grinning ear to ear, “Man, this is special. Thank you, Y/n.”

On their traditional half-day of work on Christmas, the AFC Richmond staff were holding their party. Gifts were exchanged and treats were eaten. One room over, the Greyhounds were having their own celebration.

“Yes, I think you’ve got us all beat for gifts,” Rebecca said from her corner, sniffing one of the tea bags in the collection Y/n had gifted her.

“Not true,” Y/n held up a finger before holding up the spa certificate Rebecca had just handed her. “I just know the power of American barbecue.”

“And yet,” Beard held out his hands in expectation, “None for me.”

Y/n rolled her eyes, knowing how happy he actually was with the philosophy book she’d found him.

“So,” Ted drummed his hands on his desk, “What’s everybody’s plans for today?”

“The Higgins’ door will be open and ready to receive any and all weary travelers,” Higgins volunteered, “I believe most of the boys are coming.”

“I’ve got dinner with Nora and Sassy,” Rebecca said.

“Fun,” Ted said, looking over across the room, “What about you, Roy?”

“Phoebe’s got a pageant at school,” the coach replied, “Fuck knows why it wasn’t last night.”

“Nice,” Ted smiled, “Y/n?”

Y/n exhaled, “Well, my sister couldn’t come over this year, so it’ll just be dinner with a friend.”

“What about your folks?” Ted asked.

“Yeah, uh,” Y/n tried to put on a smile, “They couldn’t make it either.”

“Too bad,” Higgins empathized, “Well, if you and your friend don’t feel like cooking, there’s always room at our table.”

Y/n nodded, “Thanks.”

Things lasted another half hour or so before people began to trickle out, off to their respective plans. Y/n stayed behind, having volunteered to clean up since everyone else’s day was time sensitive. She was just tying the trash bag of wrapping paper when there was a knock.

Jamie hung on the frame that separated the coach’s offices, “Ready to go?”

“Yeah,” Y/n set the bag in the corner of Roy’s office, “That’ll be Monday’s problem.”

Grabbing her bag of gifts and switching off the lights, Y/n glided past Jamie, who followed behind. They ducked out into the hall, some of the last people in the building.

Christmas was an off holiday for both of them. With the match against Crystal Palace that weekend, Jamie couldn’t get away to Manchester to visit his mom. And Y/n hadn’t lied when she said her sister couldn’t travel to spend the day with her, but she had lied about her parents. They had every opportunity to phone and ask her to come home, or to visit. They just chose not to.

So, with nowhere else to go, Jamie and Y/n had decided to spend the holiday together.

“Are there even any markets open on Christmas Day?” Y/n asked once they were in the parking lot.

“Yeah, I think there’s one near here,” Jamie unlocked his car door. They’d carpooled in the interest of the shopping they had planned after the party.

“I hope you thought right,” Y/n said as she climbed in the passenger seat, “Or else it’s going to be a pretty funky dinner.”

Jamie had, indeed, guessed right. There was one market open for half a day in Richmond for the cooks who’d forgotten that one ingredient. Y/n and Jamie, however, were starting completely from scratch.

“Okay,” Jamie tugged on one of the shopping trolleys and swung it around, “What do we need?”

“Everything,” Y/n stated, “You ever cooked a Christmas dinner?”

“Uh, no,” he replied, “You? We’re fucked if you say no.”

Y/n scanned the rows of aisles, unsure of where to start. “No, I have. It’s just been a while. Like, not-since-America while.”

Jamie puffed out his cheeks, “Right.”

“Okay,” Y/n clapped her hands together, “Turkey. Main attraction. Let’s start there.”

Down the aisle where the entrees should have been, there was an empty case. A few lonesome birds were still chilling, but it was clear all the good ones had been chosen long ago.

“So we’ve either got a fuckin’ Goliath,” Jamie held up a massive turkey in one arm, then the smallest in his other, “Or its baby.”

Y/n crinkled her nose at the colorful description. “I mean, that one’s meant for way more than two people,” she pointed to the first option, “It’s not like we need leftovers.“

Jamie nodded, that was true. Roy had allowed him one cheat day for the holidays, the free pass ended at 12AM, December 26th. But be was determined to enjoy the one meal.

“So the baby?” Jamie held up the small bird.

“If you stop calling it that,” Y/n grabbed the cart, “Yes.”

Jamie laughed cheekily, setting the turkey in the basket. “Right, what else?”

“Stuffing, potatoes, something for dessert,” Y/n listed items off her mental menu. She glanced over at Jamie, “Really hope we can cook.”

They went around the rest of the store, picking leftovers off the barren shelves. Unfortunately, that left either the specialty items or the nearly expired dishes, which was how they ended up with the most expensive potatoes, gluten free stuffing mix and a pudding that was on its sell-by date.

“Who was your secret Santa?” Y/n asked as they passed the wine aisle.

“Dani,” Jamie answered, “Why?”

Y/n stopped and backtracked her steps, reaching for the first bottle of red wine she saw. She’d stopped by the locker room on occasions where the Greyhounds won and had caught a whiff of the strong Mexican liquor Dani favored. A world didn’t exist where she felt like subjecting her stomach to that.

“Smart,” Jamie agreed as she popped the drink in the trolley.

They managed to get in and out quick enough that the only person who recognized Jamie was the cashier, who didn’t do more than wish him luck on the upcoming match. Y/n wasn’t used to worrying about being photographed, but she knew that any time she stepped out with Jamie, there was a chance of it.

As they loaded the bags into the boot of Jamie’s car, Y/n caught one lone present, wrapped and tied with a ribbon, pushed to the side.

“Did you forget someone today?”

“Huh?” Jamie hummed. Y/n pointed to the box. “Ah, no,” he shut the boot before she could get a better look and smirked, “That’s for later.”

Y/n pursed her lips a little, smiling as Jamie walked the cart back to its station.

“Alright,” he said as they got back in the car, “We doin’ this at my place or yours?”

Y/n thought for a second, “Do you even know how to use your kitchen?”

“Course I do,” Jamie paused a second, “I mean…pretty sure.”

“Uh-huh,” Y/n chuckled, “My place it is. That, or we ask Sam for the keys to the restaurant.”

Jamie backed the car out of its spot, “Think we need to have a bit more confidence for that.”

Y/n agreed silently, before her thoughts fell to the inevitable. A few weeks prior, during the whole Twitter fiasco, Sam’s restaurant had been broken into and destroyed. The night of the Arsenal match, the boys had all gone over to repair it, surprising Sam. Y/n had yet to see it in its restored glory.

“I feel like we got a pretty good handle, though,” Jamie interrupted her thoughts, “We got the meal, the crackers, place’ll be all decorated…”

Hoping his eyes were more focused on the road then her, Y/n grimaced.

“Yeah,” she said, “That’s, uh…”

“What?” Jamie asked.

“I’m not…totally decorated,” Y/n struggled to get out.

“You’ve got a tree at least, yeah?” Jamie replied.

Silence.

Fate bestowed him a red light, and Jamie turned to Y/n with widened eyes. “You haven’t got a tree? The fuck’s wrong with you?”

“I’ve been busy,” Y/n defended the decision, “I’ve barely been home between the away games and working late. There wasn’t much of a point in getting one.”

Jamie let his hand smack against the steering wheel, “Unbelievable.”

“Wha- you don’t have one either,” Y/n argued. There’d been a stunning lack of Christmas cheer in Jamie’s house the last week when he’d been appointed to host the monthly team dinner.

“That’s different,” Jamie put his foot to the gas as the car behind him honked.

“How?” Y/n laughed.

Jamie shrugged, “I dunno. You’re you. Figured you’d be one of those people who’s decoratin’ the day after Halloween.”

In another life, that was her. Y/n had been all over Christmas in her younger years. Every holiday was a speed bump in getting to December 24th and 25th. But once she’d graduated and started her corporate life, it became less and less of a big deal. If it was a year Caylee came to visit, she’d dust off decorations and make a show of it, but it just seemed sad to do it all on her own.

“Well, I’m sorry to disappoint,” Y/n smiled, ignoring the particular bit of backstory she didn’t feel like sharing.

“You’re not,” Jamie replied as he signaled to get into the next lane, “‘Cause we’re fixin’ this.”

Y/n looked out the window, the turn that would’ve been theirs was drifting further and further away. “Where are we going?”

“You’ll see.”

Ten minutes later, Jamie was pulling the car into a Christmas tree lot. Or rather, what once was a Christmas tree lot.

“Can’t believe these places are even open today,” Y/n commented as they walked up to the shop.

“They’re here for the sad sacks who wait till the last minute,” Jamie remarked smugly, nudging Y/n’s elbow with his.

Like the market, the lot was sparse. The only trees left were either the type that shed its needles if you breathed on it or the ones that were already turning brown.

“I’m not overwhelmed by our options,” Y/n said, scanning the rows over again.

“Hang on,” Jamie climbed behind one of the half-dead ones, having spotted a flash of green as he’d passed. He pulled out a miniature one that barely went up to his waist.

“It truly is a Charlie Brown Christmas,” Y/n remarked, smiling at the juxtaposition between Jamie’s size and the tree.

“I mean, it is going in the bin tomorrow, innit?” Jamie picked up the glorified shrub and brought it to the poor worker stuck there on Christmas Day. “We’ll take this one.”

“And we’ll just stick it in the car,” Y/n added, catching Jamie’s confusion and whispering, “We are not making him go to the trouble of tying a houseplant to the roof.”

As Y/n handed the worker a few bills, Jamie spotted a small stack of ornaments and stands for sale as well. He grabbed one of each and pulled a few pounds out his wallet, adding to the total.

“Thank you,” Y/n said to the man, “Merry Christmas.”

Jamie looked proud as they walked back to the car, “Now it’s Christmas.”

Y/n couldn’t argue with him.

—————————

Once they got back to Y/n’s place, Jamie took over unpacking the groceries, while Y/n dug through the hall closet to find some lights for the tree.

“Oi,” Jamie called down the hallway, holding the box of stuffing, “We can still cook this normal, yeah? We don’t have to do anything different.”

“I would think,” Y/n yelled back, waist deep in old boxes, “It’s just bread.”

Jamie went back to the kitchen, he remembered his way around from when they’d unpacked it months ago. The only thing that had changed was the light fixture.

“That’s new,” he said, hearing Y/n’s footsteps approaching.

“Oh, yeah,” she replied, setting an old strand of multicolored lights on the counter, “Ted helped me install it last week. Couple shocks…mostly Ted, but we got it up.”

Jamie chuckled.

“Okay,” Y/n looked to the pile of food beside the stove, “I’ll do the turkey, you start on sides?”

Giving a little salute, Jamie went about grabbing bowls and spoons. Y/n pre-heated the oven and took the turkey out of its wrapping.

“Ugh,” she groaned, peeking inside the bird, “I forgot how disgusting this part is.”

Jamie glanced over and scoffed, “Nope.”

Y/n shut her eyes as she reached in and pulled out the giblets, nearly gagging as she did.

“Carry on with that,” Jamie teased, making a show of pouring in the very dry stuffing mix, “I’ll stay doing this.”

Annoyed, and slightly jealous, Y/n cupped the unmentionable parts of the turkey in her hands and approached Jamie.

“Hey, hey, hey,” he held up a wooden spoon as if it were a shield, “Get away. There’s probably, like, four different bird diseases in there.”

“Yep,” Y/n continued walking towards him, “Don’t get smug in my kitchen, or you’ll be benched with three of them.”

Jamie held up his hands in defeat, “Truce.”

The two of them snorted and snickered before carrying on with their tasks.

It all flowed rather well. Even though they were lacking in skill, Y/n and Jamie felt good about how well everything seemed to be going. In between mixing and flipping, they managed to get the tree in its stand and start decorating. As Jamie was finishing with the ornaments, Y/n popped over to check the turkey, surprised by what she found.

“Shit,” she exclaimed, reaching for the oven mitts.

“What?” Jamie called.

Hurriedly, she opened the oven door and pulled the bird out. The outer layer was far beyond well done, looking tough and chewy.

Jamie entered then, puzzled, but chuckling. “Thought you said you knew how to cook a dinner.”

“I do,” Y/n replied, her voice jumping an octave, “With a much bigger bird. This is a pigeon!”

Jamie was full on laughing by then, covering his mouth.

“Oh, yeah, Padma Lakshmi,” Y/n retorted with a smirk, “Smell that?”

The air was thick with the scent of something burning, and it wasn’t the meat. Jamie pushed past Y/n to get to the stuffing and potatoes he’d put on. Determining the stuffing was the cause of the scent, he switched the burner off and attempted to scoop it out of the pot.

What came out was one giant clump, burnt to a crisp on the bottom and around the edges.

Y/n snorted as she set the turkey on the counter, hand on her hip as she watched Jamie work up a reply. When he came up with nothing, holding the burnt blob on an oversized fork, the two of them fell into a fit of laughter.

In the spirit of Christmas magic, they were able to salvage the dinner. They scooped out the good stuffing, trimmed the chewy parts of the turkey off, and agreed the potatoes were the only dish that looked semi-normal.

After, with their paper crowns on their heads, Jamie and Y/n sat on opposite ends of the couch, still amused at their efforts.

“I think we did pretty good,” Jamie gestured to his chest.

Y/n made a doubtful noise, “We’re a ways away from opening our own Ola’s.”

“We’re keeping takeaways in business,” Jamie replied, “Think about it that way.”

“Oh, that we are,” Y/n smiled, taking a sip of wine, “That we are. And hey, you got to eat.”

Jamie slapped a hand over his sated stomach, “Don’t know if my body’s knows what to do with it.”

Y/n laughed before Jamie smacked his hands together. “Right, time for gifts.”

Y/n stayed in her spot, “That’s assuming I got you anything.”

Jamie looked back from the front door, shooting her a quirked eyebrow. Y/n smiled and got up, like there was a chance in hell she’d have neglected to get him something.

They each went to retrieve the gifts, meeting back on the couch. Jamie was holding the mystery box he’d had stashed in his trunk.

“You first,” he said as they swapped packages.

Y/n unwrapped the square, nearly holding her breath as she took off the box’s lid. Peeling back the tissue paper revealed-

“Oh, good Lord.”

Jamie was somewhere between a grin and a smirk. Whatever it was, he wore it proudly.

Y/n held up the #9 ‘Tartt’ jersey and smirked at Jamie. “Really?”

“You’re gonna work at a football club, you gotta have a kit,” Jamie shrugged.

“And it had to be #9, huh?” Y/n quirked an eyebrow, “Couldn’t have been Colin or Sam’s?”

Jamie scoffed, “They ain’t your favorite.”

Y/n let out a single laugh, “What makes you think you are?”

“Don’t see either of them sittin’ here on Christmas with ya,” Jamie replied, “In a flat they found for ya, eatin’ a dinner they cooked with ya.”

It was hard not to laugh at Jamie’s cockiness. Behind the raging over-confidence, there was something sweet behind the gesture that Y/n could appreciate.

“Well,” Y/n set the jersey back in the box, “I’m not wearing it to matches.”

“Oh, why not?” Jamie asked unseriously.

“Because I’m there for all of you,” Y/n smirked, “And if I’m wearing anyone’s shirt, it’ll be Roy’s.”

“Oh, fuck off,” Jamie moaned. Roy and Y/n had bonded on the mornings she joined them for training. The two of them took such joy in torturing Jamie.

Y/n set the Tartt box to the side and handed Jamie his gift. He went about unwrapping it, a little speechless when he removed the last of the paper.

“This from last week’s match?” He asked.

“Mm-hm,” Y/n hummed, hugging her legs to her chest.

In a thick silver frame was a picture of the Greyhounds on the pitch at Nelson Road. Sam, Jamie and Isaac were the most prominently featured. Sam had just scored a goal and a heap of the players were celebrating. It was a perfect representation of the brotherhood they carried with them on and off the field.

“One of the photographers snapped it and I asked him to send it to me,” Y/n explained, “I noticed you didn’t have any pictures up at your place, thought this could be the first one.”

Jamie’s home decor was less than personal. His first few years in the Premier League hadn’t come with many close relationships, his own fault. Most of his family pictures were tainted with memories of something that had happened the days they were taken involving his dad. That didn’t leave him many options.

But this, Jamie thought as he weighed the frame in his hand, this was special. Not only was it his team, his mates, his place in the world, but Y/n had seen the value of it all.

Jamie looked up at her, the corners of his lips tugging upwards, “I love it.”

Y/n grinned, shopping for everyone had been stressful. It had been a long time since she’d had to choose personal gifts, and there’d been a part of her that wanted to throw away the whole gesture. But she’d pushed past her instincts, choosing to give into sentiment. One look at how touched Jamie and the others had been told her it had been worth it.

“Well,” Jamie set the frame on the coffee table, next to his kit, “We can call this a win, yeah?”

“For sure,” Y/n said, reaching out to clink her wine glass against Jamie’s, “Best makeshift Christmas ever.”

“Yeah,” Jamie cackled.

“Best Christmas you’ve ever had?” Y/n asked, “Go.”

Jamie blew out a breath, thinking back. The last few holidays had been spent either in Manchester with his mum or on his own. Two years before, when he was back at Man City, he’d ended up with his dad for part of the day, which left him miserable. If he was being honest, the last Christmas Jamie had truly enjoyed was the one he was currently celebrating.

“Eh, probably when I were a kid,” he answered, “Forget how old I was, but it was the first year I remember being really into football. Me mum got me my first kit.”

Y/n looked over her wineglass, “Was it Roy’s?”

Jamie sighed, glaring softly at her, “Not the point.”

Y/n chortled.

“It was one year me dad was too drunk to remember what day it were,” Jamie went on, his eyes falling on the wall as the memories hit, “Spent the whole day worried he was gonna show up, but…never did. By dinner, I think even mum knew he weren’t coming ‘round, and everything just sorta…relaxed, y’know? Didn’t feel like Christmas till then.”

Jamie’s blue eyes melted into some sort of sad resignation. It was a piece of his history that still hurt, but enough time had passed to see the silver lining, if there was one to be found. He wouldn’t have told the story to anyone else, but this was Y/n. She understood.

Y/n smiled softly, feeling the melancholia. “And you went to bed wearing your little Roy Kent jersey?”

Jamie’s smile came back, thankful for the change in tone. “Fuck you,” he replied, downing the last of his wine, “Right, what’s yours?”

Y/n sighed, like Jamie, there weren’t many to pick from. “Probably when I was eleven. My parents were hosting some party and they pawned me and my sister off on our grandparents. I think they could see that they had zero interest in being with us or giving us a good Christmas, so they went overboard. My grandma got me and Caylee in the kitchen cooking with her,” Y/n glanced at the kitchen where the remnants of dinner sat, “Clearly none of the skills stuck with me. My grandpa had all the movies playing, he tried to keep us laughing as much as he could.”

Taking a breath, Y/n continued, “I remember Caylee and I wrote this Christmas play before dinner. There was a lot of dancing and a lot of off-key singing,” she laughed, Jamie snorted, “But…damn it if our grandparents weren’t up on their feet clapping as if we’d just done Hamlet.”

Though shitty parents came as no surprise to Jamie, he was still a bit shocked. His voice was soft as he asked, “They really just left you?”

Y/n nodded, hugging herself, “Most years.”

The two of them sat in silence, their mutual history sitting in the gap between their bodies. The holidays amplified the best in the world, goodwill and generosity, but for those already hurting, the ever-present loneliness only intensified.

“Don’t know why people have kids if they don’t want ‘em,” Jamie mused, his eyes flitting to Y/n.

She shrugged, her hand curled against her lips. “I’ve been asking myself that since I was old enough to. Haven’t found an answer yet.”

In the moment their eyes met, Y/n and Jamie were struck by just how similar they really were. They’d known it already, it was one of the reasons they got along so well, but it felt like there was a different reality to it. Another layer peeled back, another piece of themselves they were entrusting to the other. And, above all other things, it was safe.

Y/n sniffled, wiping a stray tear away, “This is getting depressing. It’s Christmas.”

“Yeah,” Jamie cleared his throat.

Climbing off the sofa, Y/n went over to the kitchen bar and grabbed her Bluetooth speaker. She connected her phone and pulled up her Christmas playlist.

Jamie watched from his spot on the couch as she slid over to him, hand extended. “What are we doing?”

“We’re going to dance,” Y/n replied, “And we’re going to celebrate the fact that it’s Christmas and we’re somewhere better than we’ve been.”

If it were another day, Jamie wouldn’t have hesitated to make some joke of what Y/n had said. How of course it was better, because he was there. But all he really wanted to do, and what he did do, was take her hand, anchor them together and dance to whatever overly cheery song was playing.

All over Richmond, the uplifting mood was hitting its peak. Ted was on the phone with Henry, sharing his dinner and his son’s lunch, talking about what Santa had brought. Rebecca was giggling with Nora and Sassy at a five star restaurant. Keeley was seated at a full family table at her mother’s. Roy was with his sister, applauding Phoebe as her and her classmates took their bows. Beard was helping Leslie carve a massive turkey as Sam, Dani, Jan, and the rest of the Greyhounds sat around foldout tables. Y/n and Jamie were giggling uncontrollably as he picked her up and spun her around, the sounds of Nat King Cole filling the flat.

For all of them, it was Christmas to remember.

—————

Heartfirst Taglist: @lalla-04p @optimisticsandwichgladiator @makingmunson94 @taytaylala12 @storysimp @sokkigarden @lightninginab0ttle @poohkie90 @alipap3 @verra-nerevarine @shineforever19 @spaceagechimera @burnafter-reading @qardasngan @cyberpvnk-enthusiast @sogoodtoheritsvicious @buckybarnex @angelsunflxwer @blueanfield @thewildestwonderland @sablecities @oxxolovemelikeyoudooxxo @strawberryacethingz @mentalistfan @tortilla-maria1 @katdahlali @for-fuck-sake-im-alive @glitterquadricorn @jamieolivia27 @imvibin69 @katlizada @lil-tracys @fanaticalfantasist @heyitz-julia @cactajuice @peachyy-tea @notalxx @rockchickrebel @anxiety-prime-max @loveforaugust @jellycolors @actuallybarb @heletsmelovehim @lovinnscarletknight @imfalling-inlove @leslieiscrying @meg-ro @littlemisssunshine192 @beboldbebravethings @maydayfigment @spencerreidsbookclub @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @lemoonandlestars

#ted lasso fanfic #ted lasso fanfiction #ted lasso imagine #ted lasso fic #jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt imagine #heartfirst

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whorekneecentral · 4 months

Text

Holiday Greetings

Virgil Van Dijk x Fem!Reader

Warnings: holiday postcards bring together friends, old friends reconnect, falling out with family, virgil never gave up on the friendship, mentions of bad relationships, surprise visits, old habits die hard, wet dreams, sharing a bed, making dreams a reality, oral (m!receiving), sub!virg vibes for like 0.2 seconds, penetrative sex (p in v), choking, using of the word 'whore' in a sexual context, sweetness from the big man at the end.

Word Count: 2,934

Author's Note: again, so sorry for posting this late but y'all know the big man is my babyyyyy so hopefully you guys like this one as much as I do!

merry smutmas series

You send your old friend a Christmas card every year and when he sees that a certain someone was no longer in the picture, he pays you a long overdue visit.

The world works in funny ways; the red string theory and what not, you find the people that were meant to be in your lives one way or another.

He just happened to always be your person.

You and Virgil were old friends, you grew up down the street from each other; your families were always interlinked, the two of you attached at the hip - from school to Virgil's football matches around the corner from the houses, you were together.

At 18, you upped and left Holland without so much as a warning; all Virgil received was a letter in the mail, letting him know that something had happened with your family and you could no longer stay there. He tried to get you to come home, telling you that his mom would be more than happy to have you with them, which was true but you assured him you'd be fine.

He never gave up, asking you again when he signed with the Celtic and then again when he was with Southampton and Liverpool.

Despite you not taking him up on his offers to move in, you always kept in contact with Virgil; you didn’t talk often, a happy birthday message or a message of congrats when things went well for his career.

You never fully settled until recently, moving from job to job, place to place. For a while, you didn't have an address, bouncing from Belgium to Germany and then Spain before you finally settled in Switzerland.

Regardless of your lack of address, you and Virgil kept up your tradition of sending holiday postcards. It was your yearly catch-up, but you and Virgil would send a card back-and-forth and write a little message on the back of it.

For the last few years, there has been an addition to your cards; first it was your puppy, Sammy and then over the last 3 years, your boyfriend, John.

Virgil had never personally met John, but based on your type in men, he could tell that John was no good for you. The first card he got with him in it, you were happy, smiling but as the years went on, there was still a smile but he knew you well enough to know you weren’t you.

This year's card arrived early, the first week of December rather than the week before Christmas. Liverpool was wrapping up for the holidays as they'd be going on winter break. Virgil was pleasantly surprised to see that it was just you and Sammy on the card this year. He flipped it over to see what you had written on the back.

Dear Virg,

I don't have much to report this year; turned a year older, got a promotion and I bought a new car - yes I still have the old one, I cannot bring myself to trade/sell it.

I see that you've made some big moves, congratulations skipper! Proud doesn't begin to cover it and you know that I always said you'd make it big.

Hope all is well with you.

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!

Yours always,

Y/n.

Virgil smiles, your words and card tucked safely back into the envelope it came in as he took his laptop out to look up something; flights to Switzerland.

He had some time between the end of the season and his return to Holland for the holidays. What better way to spend the time than to visit his favourite person in the world?

It had been years since he last saw you; frankly he hadn't seen you since you left all those years again but nothing's changed between you two. You were still y/n and Virgil - attached at the hip as always.

Switzerland was even colder as he expected it to be. Despite coming from cold, cold England, Virgil still felt as if he was underdressed.

The car parked at the curb as he checks the return address on your holiday card and the address he had put into google maps. Assuring himself he was at the right place, he got out and grabbed his bags, walking to the porch.

Christmas had always been your favourite holiday so to see your house decked out in decorations, lights and garland wasn't a big shocker. The little plaid doggie bed by the door was an assurance that he was in the right place - you had sent him a picture of Sammy in the same spot when you first adopted him.

Virgil shook off the nerves, knocking on the door. A part of him wanted to run away but another part of him couldn't wait to see you.

Sammy must have made it to the door before you, barking to alert you that someone was at the door. He could hear your voice, "shut your big mouth! I heard it!" You tell the dog, scooting him out of the way to open the door.

"He- what the fuck?" You passed, shocked to see who was at your front door.

"Is that how you greet everyone who comes to your house?" He asked you, a big smile on his face.

You laughed, setting your coffee mug on the entryway table, not saying anything but pulling Virgil into a bone crushing hug; it felt the same as it did all those years ago, it felt like home - he felt like home.

You stepped aside. "Please, come in. Make yourself at home."

Sammy runs over, jumping on Virgil. The man reached down to say hello to the dog, scratching behind his ear. You shut the door, noticing his bags. "Where are you staying?"

He glances at you, the same sly look on his face that you'd seen a million times before. "I was hoping I could stay here?"

You laughed, nodding. "Yeah, of course." You pulled Sammy away from Virgil for a minute, letting him take off his coat and walk into the house a bit more. "What the hell are you doing in Switzerland?" You asked him, sitting on the couch.

Virgil shrugged, joining you on the couch, "I came to see you, seemed like the right time to pay you a visit."

Just as well as Virgil knows you, you know him. You're certain he pieced together your break up and that's why he's here.

"You know you don't need to look after me, Virg. I'm not 15, I'm a big girl." You glance at your friend.

Virgil nods, his hand patting your thigh, "I'm not looking after you, y/n. I'm visiting my friend."

"Well in that case, how about dinner? My treat."

"Oh I'm the footballer and I don't have to pay for dinner? I should come visit more often." He jokes as you reach over his lap to the side table to get your phone.

It was as if no time had passed; you and Virgil comfortable in each other's space as if you were in your childhood bedrooms, giggling about the rumours at school or rerunning the tackles Virgil made on the pitch.

You settled on what to eat for dinner; a local place that made the best pizza on the planet, based on the fact that Virgil ate half the box, you'd say he agrees with your statement.

At some point throughout the night, you two shifted from spot to spot, just chatting about life. From the dining room table to the kitchen and finally back on the couch.

It was rather domestic and so easy for you two to slip into this little routine, even though Virgil had only been there for the evening. You're leaning on him, his arm over your shoulder with Sammy curled up on the other side of him, a movie playing quietly as you continued chatting.

"So do you like it?" You look at him and he nods. "Being captain is the dream come true. It's a great team, the place is so.. I don't think there's a word to explain how special it is to me and the guys.. we've got a fantastic team both on and off the pitch."

"That was such a PR response." You teased, laughing. Virgil smiles, pinching your shoulder softly.

"I'm going home after this, back to Breda. I'm there until new years and then it's back to Liverpool."

"That's nice," you smiled, "tell your mom I say hello."

Virgil laughs. "You can tell her yourself, she always tells me that you two are friends on Facebook."

"Don't diss your mom, dude! You're just hating because your mom is cooler than you and she gets to have me on Facebook and not you."

"I don't have Facebook, I'm not 67 years old."

"You shouldn't hate when you've got a big ass head like that."

"Shut up!" He laughed, smacking your arm softly. He sighs, glancing at you, "you should come home, it'd be nice to go home, no?"

"I.. I can't." You tell him, turning your attention back to the tv.

"Why not? It's been years, y/n. I'm sure your family wants to see you and so much has changed, don't you wanna see our home?"

"I can't, Virg. Not after what happened."

His brows furrowed, leaning back a bit to fully look at you. "What did happen, y/n? You never told me."

You shake your head, things were said that couldn't be taken back - none of which were your fault but no one ever seemed to care. Your family never reached out to apologize so you never did too.

Virgil looks at you, your silence was an answer in itself but he can't help but wonder what went wrong. He had asked his mom, knowing your mom and his were close, they often chatted and still do to this day but his mom never told him anything. She'd often remind him that if he doesn't know, it's because he's not meant to know.

He can't help but feel sad; not only for you but for him, for what could have been if you two had maybe gotten together, if maybe you had never left home.

You quietly get up, excusing yourself and heading up to your room. Virgil hadn't been your place before but in the short time he has been there, he figured out where things went. It was like a second home to him, he took it upon himself to clean up and take Sammy out before coming back in and locking up.

He makes his way up the stairs and knocks on the first door to the right, the same room that you occupied when you were at home.

Suppose old habits die hard.

"Y/n?" He knocks on the door, peeking into the room. "Can I come in?"

You nod, lying on your bed. Virgil lets himself in and sits next to you on the bed. You're on your side, your back to the man as you feel the weight of the mattress shift, his hand passing through your hair gently. You roll, now facing him and curling into his side.

"I'm sorry," he whispers into the silence of the room. "I didn't to upset you when I said-"

"You didn't," you cut him off. "It's just.. complicated is all."

Virgil shifts, now lying next to you and you move to rest your head on his chest. The two of you cuddled against one another, comfortably relaxing as you'd done a million times before when you were teenagers.

You're not sure when the minutes turned into hours but you had both fallen asleep.

The sound of Virgil's voice woke you from your slumber. You thought you heard him say something but when you glanced at the man, he was still fast asleep. You just assumed he was asleep and settled back into bed.

A few moments later, he makes a sound - a soft whimper.

You open your eyes to check on him again, trying to see if something was wrong and yet, he was still sleeping. You figured he was just dreaming.

You see make out his silhouette on the bed, the blanket tossed over Virgil as he shifted in his sleep. You can hear him mumble, you shake him softly. “Virg, you okay?” You ask when he groans. He rubs his eyes, confused for a moment.

“Y/n? What are you doing ?” He hadn’t realized the blanket had slipped down when he sat up. You glance down and you instantly look away. “Oh uh, sorry.”

He was confused for a moment, he looked down and he pulled the blanket back up, his cheeks red and shy. “Sorry! I didn’t realize-”

“It’s okay,” you glance at him. “It happens. I didn't mean to wake you, it's just.. I heard my name and you were, well, groaning." You trailed off, Virgil's cheek burning hot as he looked anywhere but at you.

It takes you a second but you connect the dots. Between the hard cock hidden away under the blanket and the avoidance of his glance, you realized why he was calling your name.

“Oh,” you breathe, “um, if you want.. I can help you with that if you want.”

Virgil seemed shocked by your offer, his eyes widened. "What?"

"I mean, it was obvious you were dreaming of me, Virg. It's not like I haven't seen you naked before," you joked, trying to lighten the mood.

"Yeah but.. this is different."

Your hand rests on his thigh, “not really, I'm just helping you with it.”

Virgil shifts in the bed, suddenly feeling a bit shy and he can’t help but think about what you’d look like on your knees, looking up at him. He nods, “oh-okay.”

“Yeah?” You ask, looking at him. Virgil nods once more, slowly moving the blanket off his lap. You shift to lay between his legs, pulling his cock out of his boxers.

He watches as your lips wrap around his cock, tongue running over the tip. His hand tangles in your hair, pulling it away from your face as you lean down all the way, taking all of him into your mouth.

Your cheeks hollow around him, Virgil's hips buck at the feeling. A half smile playing on your lips when you glance up at him. You can see the red on his cheeks, the way his eyes follow you every move, watching as your head bobbed up and down, your cheeks hallowed around him.

It had been months, if not longer since he’d been with anyone like this; every time he even dared touch himself, you were the thought on his mind. It was like he was a teenager again, crushing on you and just wishing you'd make the first move because as confident as he was on the pitch, he was far too shy to make the move on you.

He'd be lying if he said he never imagined what it would feel like, what you would look like, how you'd make him feel.

It didn’t take long; your hand sliding up his torso and your lips wrapped around him, tongue pressed to the underside of his cock. Virgil's hips buck once more, you can feel him at the back of your throat.

He pushes you off of him, your brows furrow. "What? Something wrong?" You asked him, your tongue passing over your bottom lip, tasting him.

The sight of that alone makes his cock twitch.

"I wanna feel you," he whispers and you can't help the smile on your face.

You let Virgil pull you up for a kiss, tasting himself on your lips as he undressed you. Slowly, a pile of clothes ends up on the floor and you're on all fours. The man's behind you and your back arches, the curve of your spine evident when he drags his finger along it.

Virgil pushes into you, his name falling from your lips. “God, please Virg, like that,” the words tumble out, begging him for more as he fucks you.

His hands squeezing your hips, nails digging into your flesh. Your hand reaching under you, fingers barely reaching to rub your clit.

He pulls you up, his arm wrapped around your neck, your back pressed to his chest. His fingers dig into the side of your neck for a moment, squeezing you a bit.

The two of you facing the mirror in your room, “look pretty girl,” he whispers into your ear, “look how pretty you looked all fucked out.”

Your eyes open, looking at the screen in front of you. his eyes meet yours, and you smile. “You’re such a whore,” he hums, chuckling.

Between the angle you were at and his hand sliding down to rub on your clit, your head drops back onto his shoulder, begging him to let you cum.

Your eyes find him in the mirror and you don’t even have to say anything, he knows exactly what you’re saying.

“Shh, it’s okay sweetheart, I know.” He tells you, thrusts getting sloppier by the second.

The two of you in sync, Virgil's chest pressed to your back as you came down from your orgasm. He peppered kisses all over your back, rubbing your side softly. He leans to press a kiss to your neck before pulling out slowly.

You're flat on your stomach, catching your breath when Virgil moves off of you and shifts to next to you. His arm rests over your back, rubbing your skin soft. "You okay?" He asks quietly.

Glancing at him, you smile. "Perfect."

Virgil smiles, leaning over to kiss you.

taglist: @nosugarallspice @evieepepi08 @mimithepooh @koufaxx @dannyramirezwife-simpaccount @topguncultleader @molliemoo3 @aisharmi @mamako23 @ac3may @lewislcver @miahgonzalez16 @books-and-netflix-pls @wibi96 @bwddermilch @pedrisgatorade @clarasenchant @sainzluvrr // @trentsfav @trentsmyfave @noturbabe22

#merry smutmas xoxo #virgil van dijk #virgil van dijk x reader #virgil van dijk smut #football #football x reader #football x you #football x y/n #football smut

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lucifertoxics · 18 days

Note

pooks whenever you can and if you want, I'm in need of some fluffy cuddling with marcus 😫😫

note 💌: hiii pookie! i was so happy today to see your request that you have no idea so hopefully this mamages to help with your deluluness

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

my princess | marcus lopez arguello

pairing: marcus lopez x reader | genre: established relationship | warning: no warnings <3 | word count: 0.4k

[ BACK TO MASTERLIST ]

Having been alone all his life, Marcus was finding sharing affection to be hard sometimes. Many would consider him a merciless killer, but once you got to know him, he wasn't how you expected him to be once you first met him.

When you and Marcus have met, you never thought that you would see yourself dating him. Once you got to know him and date him, you realised that even if he didn't know how to show affection, he tried his best when it came to you.

Tonight, you were cuddling in his bed. He was listening to the Smiths, his favorite band, while he had his arms wrapped around your waist, holding you tight. You had your arms wrapped around his neck, playing softly with his hair, as you could hear the music from his headphones.

Not long after, he took a cigarette from the packet, in his jacket. Lighting up, he took a drag from it and kissed your forehead. Closing your eyes softly, feeling his faint touch, made you feel butterflies in your stomach. Looking up to him, there was no denying that he looked so calm and relaxed. The two of you would share the cigarette, and this was one of the times. It was one of your traditions, so to say and it reminds you of the night the two of you met.

He loved when you played with his hair, even if he didn't know how to show it properly. From time to time he would kiss your forehead or your cheek, mumbling words or even phrases, such as, "I love you", "my princess" and "don't leave me". Hearing those words made you realise that you would do everything for this boy, that's how much you loved him.

Not long after he said these, you saw his eyes closing and then opening again, trying to keep himself awake, wanting to spend more time with you. Marcus kissed you slowly, still having his arms wrapped around your waist. He tasted like cigarette and mint, which made you melt the second his lips touched yours. You couldn't deny that he knew how to make you feel loved and wanted, even with some simple words.

#marcus lopez arguello #marcus lopez x reader #marcus lopez x you #marcus lopez imagine #marcus lopez smut #writing #marcus x reader #marcus lopez x y/n #deadly class #benjamin wadsworth #mattheo riddle #mattheo x you #mattheoxreader #mattheo x y/n #mattheo x reader #mattheo riddle x you #slytherin boys #slytherin

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caroldantops · 6 months

Text

indentation in the shape of you || valcarol

ship: valkyrie x carol danvers

summary/request: carol shows valkyrie her new suit. valkyrie doesn't like it.

word count: 1.2k

warnings: smut (18+ only), kinda pwp, the marvels spoilers, strap on use, jealous sex, daddy valkyrie, dom!val, sub!carol

a/n: if you're seeing this coming from a ship tag hello! i usually write reader insert so if you go to my blog looking for more of this ummm. sorry.

masterlist | ao3 link

“I’m glad that they seem to be adjusting well. Fury tells me that they’re working on restoring Tarnax’s atmosphere, so hopefully they won’t have to stay in New Asgard for too much longer,” Carol tightens her fists at her side, tension in her body clear as she stands in front of Valkyrie’s desk.

“Oh, no worries. Having them is no bother at all. Though I’m sure they’re eager to get off Earth,” Valkyrie hums as she swirls her dagger.

Carol insisted on coming down after fixing Hala’s sun to check on things, something that didn’t surprise Valkyrie in the slightest. What did surprise her was her sudden costume change. Her suit was different. Less saturated, emblem bigger on her chest. Valkyrie didn’t like it. It didn’t feel like the Captain Marvel image that she’d grown used to.

Plus, this one’s torn in places. Cheaply made. Not fitting for a hero who flies into suns.

Carol is rambling on about something to do with one of the Skrull families as Valkyrie analyzes this new suit. It does hug her hips nicely. Form fitting around the waist that she’s grabbed and pulled against her many times before.

“What’s with the new get-up?”

“What?” Carol’s train of thought comes to a screeching halt.

“This,” Valkyrie points her dagger at Carol. “Different suit.”

Carol looks down at her suit. Valkyrie holds back a chuckle at how she almost looks surprised by what she’s wearing. “Oh! I got a new one.”

“Clearly,” Valkyrie laughs. “Come closer, I wanna see it.”

Carol scrunches up her brows in confusion at Valkyrie’s sudden interest, but chalks it up to that warrior mentality. That woman loves some good battle armor. She walks around the desk to stand in front of Valkyrie, awkwardly holding still as she inspects the suit, running her hands over the material and poking a finger through one of the tears that ripped during the fight with Dar-Benn.

“Seems cheap, doesn’t it?” Valkyrie sneers. “My armory could make you something ten times as sturdy. Where’d you get this shit suit from?”

“It’s not shit,” Carol huffs. Valkyrie raises an eyebrow at her and pulls her finger down, making the rip bigger. “Hey!”

“Why aren’t you answering me, hm?” Valkyrie knows damn well where this suit came from, she could tell from the moment she touched it. She just wants Carol to say it.

“Aladna. Prince Yan--”

“Oh, a gift from your husband.”

Before Carol knows it, she’s being tugged flush against Valkyrie. From her standing position, she towers over her even more than she usually does, but she gulps because she knows who’s in control here.

Valkyrie knows that Prince Yan is no more than a friend to Carol, but both of them know just how much the idea of Carol being technically married makes Valkyrie’s jealousy blaze.

Especially when she comes around with the gifts he’s given her.

“Val--”

“You know, I’m surprised it looks so dull, given that Aladna’s traditional clothing has more colors than a pride parade.” Valkyrie grips Carol’s waist, fingers digging into her sides. It would hurt if Carol didn’t have super endurance. But it’s enough to make the message clear.

“It’s fine, I’ll probably go back to my old one anyway.” Carol refuses to make eye contact with her. She can’t let her know how much this is affecting her right now.

But gods.

It took Carol a long time to find someone who could make her feel this way. Someone who could make her feel safe rather than terrified of giving in to their control, their dominance.

It just came so naturally to Valkyrie. Carol supposes that’s why she can’t stay away, comes running back when her thoughts get too much for her to bear and she just needs them shut off.

Like now.

“Don’t look away from me,” Valkyrie says firmly. Carol bites her lip and meets her gaze again. “Good girl. Bend over the desk.”

Carol briefly considers asking why, but at the moment she can’t bring herself to fight Valkyrie’s little game. She moves some stuff out of the way and bends over the desk. She does her best to steady her breathing as she feels Valkyrie’s hands run up the back of her thighs.

“You’d think that Prince Yan would give his princess a sturdier suit. You know, I bet I could just…”

Riiiiiiiip.

“Valkyrie!”

Valkyrie laughs, giving Carol’s ass a slap as she admires what she’s done. Just as Valkyrie suspected, she was able to poke into one of the tears and fully rip a hole right through the crotch of Carol’s suit. Her cunt is exposed, the pale skin of her ass peeking through the top of the tears as well. Valkyrie steps forward, hips flush against Carol’s ass.

“Feel that, princess?” Carol groans. “Use your words.”

“Yes, sir.” Carol gasps as Valkyrie grinds the bulge of her strap into her exposed ass. She tries hiding her face to conceal how flustered she is, but Valkyrie won’t tolerate that. She’s tugged up by her hair, Valkyrie’s lips brushing against her cheek as she speaks lowly to her.

“Does your husband ever do this for you?” Valkyrie doesn’t expect a response, just chuckling at Carol’s whines. “Does he know what a needy girl you are?”

“No, sir.” Valkyrie unbuckles her belt, pulling out her strap and nudging the tip between Carol’s already damp folds. Carol shudders, pushing her hips back against the sensation.

“Greedy, greedy thing. Already trying to fuck yourself on my cock.” Valkyrie stands up straighter, but doesn’t release her grip on Carol’s hair, knowing the stinging in her scalp makes Carol as compliant as can be. “You’re getting spoiled, princess. Gonna have to ask nicely for what you want.”

“Please,” Carol asks softly, voice pitched high as Valkyrie rubs her clit with her strap. “Please, sir. Please fuck me.”

“Hmm,” Valkyrie releases Carol’s hair and runs her hand down her back, feeling the strong muscles of her back quiver under her touch. “Dunno, that’s not very convincing if you ask me.”

“Please, daddy, I need you to fuck me!”

Valkyrie laughs and sinks her cock into Carol’s weeping pussy. Carol lets out a guttural moan, only overshadowed by the wet noises her cunt makes as Valkyrie pounds deep into her. She grips Carol’s hips, pulling her back against her to meet her rough thrusts.

She loves having Carol like this. The all-powerful Captain Marvel, destroyer of armies and savior of the universe begging for her tight pussy to be ruined by her, shivering under her praise and degradation, weeping in her arms after she’s been thoroughly fucked.

Carol must have been particularly pent up today, because it doesn’t take much longer for her to be on the edge, a few strokes of Valkyrie’s fingers over her clit and some whispered praises of “Good princess, let go for me. I’ve got you” send her into a shaking mess as she comes.

She mumbles something incoherent as Valkyrie flips her over, pulling her up to curl against her chest. “What was that, baby? Can’t hear you when you’re mumbling.”

“Thank you,” Carol sighs.

Valkyrie smiles softly, kissing Carol on the tip of her nose and rubbing her back. “You that tired after one round?”

“Not tired, just…tired.”

“Ah, yeah. That really cleared things up.”

“Shut up.”

#valcarol #valkyrie x carol danvers #s: valcarol #fic #silver writes #i wrote this mainly just to get it out of me idk its been so long since ive written not reader insert #so i am a bit rusty #the marvels spoilers #IM SO SORRY I KEEP FORGETTING TO TAG

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kscheibles · 5 months

Text

christmas break (college bf! au)

content warnings: f! reader, fluff, smut, oral sex f! receiving, gagging

word count: 2.4k

a/n: merry christmas from your sweet boyfriend who also doms you :)

You watch the minutes pass on your computer clock as you sit under the punishing fluorescent lights of the library. You’ve been done with your assignments for a half hour, but have dutifully decided to stay with Matty until he finishes researching his term paper. It’s some rumination on Sartre you don’t quite understand but you told Matty you’d keep him company and you intend to keep your word.

He’s been homesick all semester, you can just tell. He takes every opportunity to bemoan the lack of brown sauce in New England and show you photos of his family preparing for the holidays back home in Wilmslow. In an effort to make him feel better, you’d driven to a specialty food store to buy him the specific chocolates he’d been craving the most. A few weeks ago, you’d looked up flights to Manchester together, hoping that with a few tricks you’d learned from a friendly compsci acquaintance, you’d be able to score a deal. But Matty’s on work-study and can barely make enough money to cover his living expenses, let alone a transatlantic flight. It will be his first Christmas without his family, no matter how he spends it.

He slams the top of his laptop down suddenly, sighing dramatically as he does. You rub your boyfriend’s thigh in hollow reassurance.

“You ready to head up?” he asks.

You nod. “Did you finish your research?”

“Fuck the research. I can’t focus, my Adderall has worn off anyway.”

“Okay,” you acquiesce, beginning to pack your belongings into your bag. The air is thick with something unsaid. Matty would never try to make you feel bad, but your excitement for the winter holiday is not something he shares. It makes you apprehensive to broach the subject of even going on a date to the local light show. You can’t imagine that would make him feel better.

You both trudge up to your dorm, as is your ritual. Matty always follows you to your door and waits for you to take your backpack off so you can give him a proper hug before he heads home. You would sleep together if you could, but the stiff single beds you rent are hardly comfortable, let alone sexy. At your door, you set your things down and envelop Matty between cold, brittle arms, squeezing him gently so hopefully he knows you care.

“I was thinking,” you start, pulling away to look in his eyes, “We have room for a guest at my house. I think my parents would be okay with you staying over the holidays as long as you take the spare bedroom. Would you like that? I know it’s not home home and my parents will definitely try to suss you out, but there will be warm food and Christmas traditions and–”

Matty cuts you off with a soft kiss on your lips. “I’d love to stay with your family, babe.”

Your face breaks into a grin. You nod slowly.

“Okay. Okay, then it’s decided. I’ll get them to cave.”

“My little meddler,” Matty beams, ruffling your hair. You catch his hands and move them off, smoothing your hair down.

“I’m their only daughter and they haven’t seen me in months,” you shrug.

“I love you,” he says, seriously.

You fall into his chest and smile, “I love you, too.”

It feels weird dragging your carry-on luggage up the pathway to the home that used to be yours. You have Matty in tow whereas the last time you lived here, you had never met him before. You’re transformed, yet when you put your key in the lock and step across the threshold, you feel like the same girl who lived there for eighteen years. You feel like a child again somehow.

“Mom, Dad! Matty and I are here!” you shout out. Your mom comes scurrying from the kitchen.

“Hi, how are you?” she asks you as she pulls you into a hug, rubbing your shoulders, “I thought you were supposed to have stopped growing. Harold, get in here, she’s grown three inches!”

You shake your head, chuckling. Your mom opens her arms warmly and holds Matty in a welcome hug.

“I’m Carol, nice to meet you,” she says.

Matty introduces himself as your dad shuffles into the entryway.

“Ah, there she is! I had a work call that ran long, shutting down for the holidays it can be a lot,” he leans down to hug you, “We missed you.”

“I missed you, too,” you sigh, “Especially missed your cooking.”

“Speaking of, I’m making Papa’s chicken tonight!” your dad exclaims, “Matty, I hope you aren’t a picky eater because we’ve planned a whole spread to welcome our girl back.” Your dad reaches out, offering his hand to Matty as he speaks.

“Not at all, sir,” Matty replies.

“Good then,” your dad states, “Why don’t I show you to your room, Matty? Let our girl get settled.”

You give Matty an apologetic look and head over towards the opposite side of the house and to your old room. It’s been preserved in its perfect adolescent state of whimsy, but something isn’t right. It's weird that it used to hold all of your clothes, all the evidence of your accomplishments, all your turbulent, hormonal emotions and now it’s like a movie set or a museum exhibit. Or an archeological site. Your bed is made with a childhood favorite stuffed animal in the middle against the pillows. You pick her up and give her a quick hug, she smells like home. You used to not be able to smell it because you smelled like home, too.

You take care unpacking your clothes, meticulously folding your sweaters and jeans, and placing them in your dresser. You open the windows to rid the place of the smell of nostalgia and then head back to the kitchen nook, where Matty is talking to your mom. You put on a brave face and massage Matty’s shoulders sweetly before sitting down with them.

When everyone’s departed to their separate rooms at night, you take an extra-long time doing your evening routine. You press each serum and treatment into your skin extra carefully and brush each tooth individually. When you’re sure your parents will have fallen asleep, you tiptoe to the other side of the house and open Matty’s door. He’s tucked into bed, back against the pillows, and phone in his hand. It almost flies out when he recognizes you in the doorframe.

“Fuckin’ hell! Thought you were the grim reaper,” Matty whisper-shouts as you make your way to the bed and tuck yourself in next to him. His arm pulls you close to him on instinct.

“You alright?” he asks.

“Yeah, just missed you,” you whisper.

“Awwwwww,” he pouts condescendingly, “Well, I’d love to have you stay, but your dad might actually take me outside and shoot me if he found you in here.”

“Oh god, did he give you the talk?”

“Just a little, don’t worry about me,” he consoles, “I kind of respect it anyways. I’m sure I’ll be the same with our daughter one day.”

“Our daughter?” you ask, looking up at his eyes.

“Too much? My daughter then. I dunno I just… I get the protective instinct.”

“It’s not too much,” you tell him, leaning over him to kiss him on the lips, “Very cute and very appreciated.”

Matty smiles into your mouth and you move to sit on his lap, straddling him comfortably.

“Well I really like your dad, too,” he says.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, he really loves you,” Matty states, rubbing circles onto your hip, “You can tell that everything he does is for you.” You get shy at that.

“It’s fine, you can call me spoiled.”

“Not spoiled if you deserve it,” he says.

“I want you to spoil me,” you say into his ear, “Need you, baby.”

“Baby, I can’t, Harold will have my fuckin’ balls.” You giggle in response.

“Will you just put it in, then? I’ll be so quiet, I promise,” you plead. You see a familiar glint in his eyes and feel him hardening under you.

“One sound and I take it out, you understand?” he tuts.

You nod eagerly. “I understand.” You move his pajama pants down and take yours off, moving your panties to the side as you sink down onto him. You breathe wildly for a moment when you’ve taken him all the way. Your world is spinning.

“You okay?” he asks. You nod, “C’mere.”

You fall into his chest, totally content, and start kissing his bare collarbone. You lay the side of your head on his shoulder and try to catch his eyes. He leans down and nips at your earlobe.

“Bein’ so good for me, baby,” the praise makes you squirm and you clench around him repeatedly, looking for some relief. “I can feel that,” he teases. You pout in response. Matty’s hands reach for the hem of your oversized nightshirt and lift it over your head, revealing your naked breasts to the cold night air. His hands cover them instantly and his head ducks down to take one of your nipples into his mouth.

“Matty,” you warn. He responds by lapping his tongue all over you, sucking you more insistently. He bites gently at the sensitive bud, and you whine loudly, involuntarily.

“Shhhhh,” Matty tsks, looking up at you, “You don’t want me to stop do you?”

You shake your head back and forth so quickly you think it might fall off. Then it tips back; you look at the ceiling fan hoping the sight will ground you but it doesn’t. Your body is filled with pleasure and you have no outlet.

“Matty, can I move? Please? I promise I’ll still be quiet.” Matty huffs frustratedly and lifts you off of him harshly. You look at him sadly while he gets up to get out of bed. You reach for his hand as he does, feeling as though you might cry if he leaves you hanging.

“Please, Matty, I didn’t know that talking counted. I need you!” you say as loudly as you comfortably can. His hand slips out of yours as he heads towards the closet and kneels down to rummage through his luggage, leaving you dripping on his sheets. When he turns around, he has a tie in his hands.

“What’s that for?” you ask.

“Well I was gonna take you to a nice dinner while we were here,” he says playfully, “But now…” He taps your bottom lip, a command to open your mouth. When you do, he places the silky fabric on your tongue, looking into your eyes for permission as he ties a snug knot at the back of your head. “Need to shut you up if I’m gonna give you what you want. Would you like that? Gonna be a good girl and take it nice and quiet?”

You nod, drool already pooling in your mouth, soaking through the tie. Matty pushes you down so you’re flat on your back. You make grabby hands at him as soon as you’re down, still trying to be good. He smiles good-naturedly and takes his pants all the way off before moving on to you, removing your last stitch of clothing: a heart-printed pair of cotton underwear you’ve probably had since high school. He kneels before you – knowing he’s being watched closely – and slowly brings his mouth down between your legs, breathing all over you before licking a broad stripe up your soaking cunt. You gasp, trying to stay as quiet as possible as he starts to fuck you with his tongue; filling you and leaving you again. You grab his hair and try to maneuver him a bit higher to your clit.

Matty takes the hint and starts working on you there, switching between flicking his tongue up and down and sucking at you. You can feel the pressure in your body building and you accidentally let out a moan. Matty stops for a second, looking up at you. You realize what you’ve done too late, slapping a hand to your mouth. Matty chuckles a little before leaning down again, thrusting two fingers into you.

“Keep that hand over your mouth, okay, baby?” You nod, delirious from lack and need and anticipation. Matty’s mouth finds your clit once more, licking side to side and keeping in rhythm with his hand fucking in and out of you. You can feel your moans trying to escape on your hand as you begin to buck your hips in time with Matty’s assault on your pussy. You tug on his hair a little to catch his eyes and nod, silently communicating to him. Then he’s sucking on your clit and you’re a goner. You burst into flames as you cum, clenching his fingers as he works you through it until the pleasure feels like pain. You remove your hand from your mouth and gasp, pulling your boyfriend away from your tortured cunt.

Matty kneels over you a second later, untying the gag, wiping your mouth gently, and pressing a kiss to your lips.

“Thought you were gonna fuck me,” you say playfully.

“Greedy, greedy.”

“Not greedy, I just want you to feel good,” you tell him earnestly. Matty lifts the tie up so you can see the wet spot you left on it.

“I’m gonna use this when you go to sleep don’t worry about me.”

“But I’m here now.”

“I know but I’m really quite scared of your dad,” he laughs a little as he says it, but you believe him.

“Okay,” you kiss him hard and long, “Goodnight.”

“G’night, baby.”

On Christmas morning, Matty knocks on your door before going to the living room. You beckon him in to sit on your bed, careful to leave the door open in case your parents wake up. You give him a quick kiss and then turn around to grab something from your dresser.

“Close your eyes,” you tell him. Matty looks at you questioning but finally gives in. You place the item on his legs and indicate for him to look.

On his lap is a set of pajamas, matching ones that your whole family wears.

“My mom gets them for all of us every Christmas, you don’t want to be caught without,” Matty is quiet, “Do you not like them?”

“I love them,” he says, pulling you into a hug, “I’m so grateful to your family for taking me in this Christmas. I felt like a bit of an orphan, to be honest.”

You hold his face in your hands.

“You always have a place here, okay?”

“Okay,” he smiles shyly.

“Merry Christmas, baby.”

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